Yesterday was my first day back into the office. I fought through my e-mails, fiegned interest in office affairs, and tried to remember the language of the place.

I am wishing to return changed, but aside from the urge to eat off of everyone's plates, it hasn't happened. Mostly, I am trying to catch up on sleep and appreciate the pace of no longer living out of suitcases and rushing from one public transit system to another.

I am craving Alex's father's cooking, chopsticks, and my little bowls of rice. I am missing Alex's conversation and his big pumpkin head. I am missing the way time passes when there is no where and no one I have to be.

At first touch everything felt wrong. The flow I felt through Japan just didn't transfer, and everthing that I needed to get through the city scattered with the typhoon. My passport, currency, internet connection, a phone...and when I finally reached Alex, I found out he'd missed my e-mails for the past 4 days, and was expecting me to arrive only a day later. Furthermore, he couldn't even begin to explain how I was going to find him in the city. Eventually an information booth attendant called him and wrote down the City One address in Sha Tin in strange scratchy ticks that a spunky taxi driver understood. Eventually, I stopped demanding what I wanted from Hong Kong, and let the city carry me for a while. That, and a good nights sleep could buy an adventure.
But after 5 hours sleep, I had to peek out the window to see the day...and it was fuzzy and promising breakfast. Our first taste; pan fried chicken feet followed by plate after plate of dim sum surprises. Jeff, Virginia, Eugene and grandma all came to the restaurant to welcome us and offer a new dish that promised health benefits like good skin, beautiful hair, or great reproductive health.
Afterward, we took a tour of the wet market that served as a reference point for Fear Factor ratings on the culinary adventures for the days to come. The fruits we tried were amazing; dragon fruit, pomelo, wax apple, asian pear, and persiminon. Then the butchers offered stomachs and tounges, entrails and tails, heads and claws of animals alive or not for long. Chris and I would point, and Virginia would search her English for a translation. My stomach did not recover for hours; until after a good warm bowl of vegetarian green curry and 2-3 pepto bismols- the travelers friend.

As of today, Wednesday, we have seen half of our guide books already, and keep studying our standby flights again and again to see how we can squeeze in a trip to Lantau, a dinner of sharks fin soup, a lesson from mahjong savy grandma, or a tai chi class with Virginias 70-year-old teacher.
So far, we have seen the smoky Hong Kong skyline from Victoria Harbor, and Victorias Peak. We have haggled with the pushy vendors on Womans Street and the Jade Market. We have tasted the elegant Shanghi delicacies like fried eel, blood curd, and magnificant dumplings, and the simple fish ball noodle houses in Kowloon. We have shopped in the sweltering cramping curio shops on Hollywood Street in Central, and visited an ancient temple where devoted contruction workers renovated it's belly;taking in only burning insense for air.

Today, Hong Kong feels like us. We left Alex's side for the first time, and still managed to get cups of coffee, find the bathroom, and leave New Territories for Hong Kong Island. Like a good host, the city usually bends a bit and offers up her western side to us when we need it, and still gives us a good exotic trip all along.

I read this article and decided that any place with Rod Stewart memorabilia AND a divine, holy, barbecue trinity on my side of town is like the greatest sweet jane food-fantasy of all time. (At least the greatest realized food fantasy since that fried chicken and doughnut shack they closed down on Gaston.) Like, to-tally.

Chris HATES HATES HATES Rod Stewart and I think that the article pretty much baffled him. God, how I love the barbecue. God, how I love the Rod. He quizzed me on the ride over to Big Al’s Smokehouse; wondering how I ever found it. Did I google Rod? Did I google barbeque? Did I google Rod Barbecue at the same time? (A secret midnight pact with a dark horned beast?) Even more amazing is that we set out to find the place without a map or address of any kind. ’Da Ya Think I’m Sexy’ pounded from the stereo, I graciously provided the live car accompaniment, and the vehicle guided itself there…despite the contrary directional reasoning between Chris and I.

Big Al’s hides off the Inwood street a ways. The building exterior is of modest and classic construct of mid-seventies barbecue-joint-style, but stands in an old strip mall. Classic barbecue architecture to those not from ‘round these parts -means a ranch-style cedar molding painted fire engine red against a neutral stucco façade and few if any windows.
Inside we surveyed the vast wood paneled layout. No fancy hostess stand to hold your hand to a table, no crappy lethargic waitstaff with a barage of questions and their boyfriend crisis on the phone in the back. Nothing to get in the way between you and the meat feast.

At the ‘ode to Rod’, a glass-framed, autographed, tour t-shirt, we gripped our orange plastic trays. Cautious, we scanned the black board menu with white peg lettering, and coordinated our selections to maximize sample options, and scooched down to the place of the solemn barbecue carver. With the order complete, he used his fork to motion us down along his lush running line of sides called ‘vegetables.’ (Can pasta salad, potato salad, and 2 styles of baked beans be called vegetables?)

Pork ribs with two sides: beans and potato salad. Rudolph’s sausage and beef with a corn cob and smoky beans. (Chris found the wooden pick inserts for his corn impressive). At the end of the line sat a little man that eyeballed the trays and figured the check accordingly. This is CLASSIC barbeque joint organization.

We walked past a half dozen 5-coat-lacqured oak tables before settling on one with plush vinyl chairs footed with tiny wheels; these being preferred over the round tables surrounded by old nautical themed restaurant chairs. We unloaded our trays and didn’t speak for a long time, except to negotiate a trade of my one rib for one silver-dollar-sized sausage and two beef morsels, and then to provide a brief review:
'Ribtastic’.

SweetsweetJane,
Troop morale is good here. No complaints other than the occasional home sickness. I was reading more about what was going on over in La. It sounds crazy. Funny I would think people would act reasonably to a disaster like that but I guess I am a little naive myself. It sounds like pure anarchy in La. right now! I think this is a defining moment for bush. It's sink or swim time.
>SGT Shannon Davis

Shannon,
It's hard for me to tell whether he's sinking or swimming…from here it looks like sinking… but then I’m pretty out of touch with mainstream public opinion.

It’s hard for me to believe that any man or machine would deliberately turn their back on the helpless and poor, especially in a country as rich as ours.

I do know how the intricacies of bureaucracy can prevent what is necessary from happening. I do know of people that lack courage and leadership to make change happen outside of the bureaucracy when needed. I do know how when time is so critical, it seems to slip right through your fingers.

I don't know how I'd react stranded in the superdome with 4,000 or more poor, stinky, scary, sleepless people screaming, crying, with no toilets, no food, and no known ETA for rescue.

Honestly, I'd probably first go try to steal a sandwich, shit myself, and then jump off the second floor to my death.

SSJ

I LOVE THESE!!!





--- choumui wrote:

> OFFICIAL LETTER..
>
> FROM:MR.CHOU MUI
> Hang Seng Bank Ltd
> choumui1234@o2.pl
>
>
> Let me start by introducing myself. I am Mr. Chou
> Mui , Assistant Director of Operations of the Hang
> Seng Bank Ltd,Sai Wan Ho Branch,171 Shaukiwan Road
> Hong Kong.
>
> Before the U.S and Iraqi war, our client Hamadi
> Hashem a business man made a numbered fixed deposit
> of (346,736,899.68 HKD) for 18 calendar months, this
> is valued to Forty Four million Five Hundred
> Thousand United State Dollars only in my branch.
> Upon maturity several notice was sent to him, even
> during the war, two years ago (2003). Again after
> the war another notification was sent and still no
> response came from him. We later found out that
> Hamadi Hashem and his family had been killed during
> the war in a bomb blast that hit his home at
> Mukaradeeb where his personal oil well was.
>
> http://www.iraqmemorialwall.org/iraqicasualties.html
>
> http://www.iraqbodycount.net/names.htm
>
> After further investigation it was also discovered
> that Hamadi Hashem did not declare any next of kin
> in his official papers including the paper work of
> his bank deposit. And he also confided in me the
> last time he was at my office that no one except me
> knew of his deposit in my bank. So, Forty Four
> million Five Hundred Thousand United State Dollars
> is still lying in my bank and no one will ever come
> forward to claim it. What bothers me most is that
> according to the to the laws of my country at the
> expiration four years six months the funds will
> revert to the ownership of the Hong Kong Government
> if nobody applies to claim the funds.
>
> Against this backdrop, my suggestion to you is that
> I will like you as a foreigner to stand as the next
> of kin to Hamadi Hashem so that you will be able to
> receive his funds.
>
> WHAT IS TO BE DONE:
>
> I want you to know that I have had everything
> planned out so that we shall come out successful. I
> have contacted an attorney that will prepare the
> necessary document that will back you up as the next
> of kin to Hamadi Hashem , all that is required from
> you at this stage is for you to provide me with your
> Full Names and Address so that the attorney can
> commence his job. After you have been made the next
> of kin, the attorney will also file in for claims on
> your behalf and secure the necessary approval and
> letter of probate in your favour for the move of the
> funds to an account that will be provided by you.
>
> There is no risk involved at all in the matter as we
> are going adopt a legalized method and the attorney
> will prepare all the necessary documents. Please
> endeavour to observe utmost discretion in all
> matters concerning this issue.Once the funds have
> been transferred to your nominated bank account we
> shall share in the ratio of 70% for me, 30% for you
> . Should you be interested please send me your full
> names and current residential address and I will
> prefer you to reach me on the email address below
>
> choumui1234@o2.pl
>
> and finally after that I shall provide you with more
> details of this operation.
>
> Your earliest response to this letter will be
> appreciated.
>
> Kind Regards
>
> Mr. Chou Mui
>
> choumui1234@o2.pl

Mr Chou,
It is very coincidental that you are reaching out to
me from Hong Kong. It just so happens that I will
personally be visiting Hong Hong the week of September
18th-26th. I would like to meet with you and your
attorney to discuss this opportunity.

Please e-mail with your availability for that week.

CALLUNA V.

Do you know what is means to miss New Orleans
I miss it, each night and day
The longer I stay away
Miss the moist covered vines
The tall sugar pines
Where mocking birds use to sing
And I like to see the lazy Mississippi
Are hurrying to spring
The Mardi Gras memories
Of creol tunes that fill the air
I dream of oleanders in June
And soon I'm wishing that I was there
Do you know what is means to miss New Orleans
And there is something more
I miss the one I care for
More than I miss New Orleans

Hi Shannon,

Well, there's a lot of big stink going on in the south this week. It's all shades of ugly. I've heard people say that New Orleans is gone...just over. Say they never saw it comin'. I think people know that that's just a bunch of bull. Relief efforts can't make it out to these stranded people fast enough... now every junkie out there is starting to come down desperate and freaking out. There are lot's of rumors about FEMA not having their act together. Rumors about misdirected funds that should have been appropriated to fix some shabby levy apparently held together with duct tape. Rumors that there aren't enough uniforms to keep the peace. At the same time, there are lots of donation buckets, and telethons, and fund raisers, and offers from people with spare bedrooms willing to take a family in.

Now one idea is to bring them to Texas. As my mother says 'Our Christian natures are about to be challenged.' She has put together a plan to divert the refugees to Boston because she says those people 'think their shit don't stink and they think WE'RE racist'. I don't think my mom is racist...I think she hates poverty (and maybe yankees). Poverty transends the rules, and then makes monsters out of men. Is there a word for hating that?

I remember hearing that New Orleans was more focused on the party after the hurricane then they were for making preparations for it. The superdome turned into the pleasure dome and then pretty much imploded in on itself. People have jumped out of 2nd story windows, defected all over the ground, raped young girls out in the open, and shot at relief workers. It does sound very Sodom and Gomorah to me...

Well- there's the state of union for ya. Gas prices are at 3 bucks a gallon. Some places had it for 2.89- but then they sold out right away. Chris said he heard the president address us and said we should 'Not get gas unless we have to'. It might have been better to say...'Please ride share'. 'Please conserve'. Now people are slamming the gas stations and the rumor is that there's going to be a gas shortage.

Not get gas 'unless we have to'... WTF? What planet did that come from? Must be the planet where hover crafts operate on banana peels, or that other planet where you teleport to work, or maybe that planet that has managed to solve all the problems of gravity and inertia, or else the planet where people go out and buy gas at three bucks a gallon and stock pile it in their garage 'just because'.

We must have a sense of humor about these things.

So, how is the 'war zone'? (Thinking about you guys over there...makes even this stuff seem like candy land.)
h