Tag: India

BLOG: In the Mood for Love

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Saturday morning.

Woke up early from a bad dream. I can’t remember it, as per usual. I either don’t remember or have a very intense, dark nightmare. I wake up angry and frustrated so often. I can’t get rid of the anger. I don’t know how to filter it out.

I went up to the rooftop for a nice yin yoga session. Had a coffee and a cigarette. Meditated. Thought to myself, “Stop thinking about what you’ll do if everything goes wrong and start thinking about what you’ll do if everything goes right.”

Tennis lessons. Horse races. Junk boat parties. Quiz nights. Stand-up comedy. Shopping sprees. Weekend trips to Japan and the Mainland. My very own Birkin bag.

Okay, so it might actually turn out to be a Chirkin, and I’ll probably be flying on a budget airline and sleeping in one of those weird little capsule pods, but you know… whatever.

My meditation colors today were orange and yellow. Finding my center of balance by embracing my creativity energy. Love it. This has been the recurring theme in my journey this year.

It was a good session. I felt safe in my body again and found some clarity of mind. Peaceful vibes. I feel much calmer now than when I woke up. Now I just want to eat some French Toast and stay in bed all day watching Wong Kar Wai films.

I’m clearly a little biased because I’m American, but my personal favourite is My Blueberry Nights. It’s one of those movies that inspired me to set out on my journey. I really identify with the main character, aka Norah Jones. It feels like it would be good inspiration right about now.

Just staying positive for now. Sitting here enjoying the feeling of being safe in my own body. I was thinking about South Dakota again. Everything there was so different. So hostile. I always felt like I was just waiting for the next attack to happen. They were so vicious. It’s not normal.

Here it’s like… I’m totally anonymous. No one knows or cares who I am. I can wander around and eavesdrop on conversations and watch people. No one notices. No one cares. I meet random people all the time who have interesting stories to tell and interesting things to say. I love it. It’s a vibe. I love not being “Betsey Horton.” Like the night I spent with The Russian. I could just be Liz. Most of the time, I just want to be Liz.

This is going to sound strange to say, but it’s weird feeling safe all the time? Like what do you mean I don’t have to worry about any of that anymore? My system doesn’t know how to react to the shock.

It’s like… yeah. South Dakota was pretty bad. I experienced so much violence and trauma towards my body, mind, and soul there. Literally just non-stop attacks from every angle. I knew it messed me up, but I’m looking back on it now after having lived abroad in Asia for a year and I’m thinking to myself, “No wait, actually, that was really, really, really fucked up.”

Rest and recovery = crucial. It’s good that I’ve had a long rest period, though I would hardly call navigating the everyday challenges associated with life in Hong Kong to be “restful.” I think Bangkok was probably more of a “restful” situation. Bali was so beautiful but Yoga Teacher Training courses are crazy intense and basically force you to sit with all of your bad feelings until you find peace.

All of this being said, I would go back to India for a 300hr YTTC in Rishikesh. I guess if Hong Kong doesn’t work out, I can just go do that. Oh, except for the part where July is the absolute worst time to travel to India. So, that’s off the list… for now.

Funny how the hand of fortune deals its cards. We’ll just wait and see what happens, I guess. Hopefully… Magic, lol. Otherwise… I’m fucked.

For now, I think the metaphor of being a woolly mammoth thawing out of an ice block feels apt. It’s like I was just frozen in time out in South Dakota, forced to relive the same hellish situations over and over and over again. Now I’m not there reliving it anymore and it’s like… okay. I’m safe. I’m calm. I’m cool. I can do this.

So what? I don’t know. Get a career and make money and generally be boring and live a normal life? Sure, I would love to be a writer, but it feels like I don’t know how to be professional about it. It feels like all I know how to do is dump my trauma out all over the place. I want to find my own identity outside of all of that.

I just want something else to bring in money for awhile. Something I don’t have to think much about. I don’t know. Clearly “Crunchy Hippie Vegan Yoga Teacher” is not the correct path for me. So what is the correct path for me? I don’t know. I just follow it wherever it goes…

For now, the path is leading me to drop off my laundry and then go out for brunch. I admit that I get really tired of eating alone all the time. It’s nice when there are other people there. They just come and go so often, you know? The life of an expat is very transient. One day someone is there, the next they are gone. Another new person appears in their place, then they disappear again. So on and so forth. Friends come and go, men come and go, randoms come and go. The only thing that stays forever is the story.

Well, I may not be emotionally fulfilled, but I can be physically fulfilled by eating a succulent Chinese meal, so that’s what I’m going to go do today.

Have a good one!

BLOG: The Forgotten Side Quest

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Sunday.

I just looked at my calendar and was shocked by how much time has already gone this month. Crazy.

In two weeks, I will have been gone a whole year. In one month, my visa expires. This is crazy. So crazy. I can’t believe this year has gone by so fast. I feel like I spent most of it barely keeping my head above water. Now I’m finally starting to find my footing and the tides are changing yet again. How I long for stability…

Well, the only way to get stability is to hustle, and even then, it’s always an illusion. As we learned from the TV series “Straight To Hell,” you never know when some hot beefcake will target you, seduce you, and con you out of all of your money and property, leaving you with nothing and no one.

That somewhat unlikely situation aside, I did indeed spend yesterday hustling. I just sent out a bunch of job applications to different English language centers. We’ll see if anything hits. I’m pretty sure it’s all the same ghost job postings that are always up there, but whatever. A job is a job and I need money, so… at least this time I have a better understanding of what exactly I’m up against.

If I don’t get anything here, I’ll try the mainland. I hear the money is better over there. Then again, it is the mainland. It’s not exactly Hong Kong, ya know? The rules are different there. You know what they say: one country, three systems: Hong Kong, Macao, and the Mainland. The OG Triads, lol.

I suppose there’s always Taiwan. No further comment.

Last night I went out with my friend. We went to this Greek place I’ve been to before. They redid the interior to make it significantly less charming. Before it was all blue and painted to look like a Greek cafe with a charming sea view. Now they’ve streamlined it and taken away all the charm in favor of a different, more bland concept. The food is still good but I just hate the new interior.

While we having dinner, my friend asked me a very alarming question about last weekend. She asked me if I remember a little side quest we went on after our visit to The Sketchy Place. Apparently we went to an Indian restaurant and had a whole conversation with an Auntie about yoga, my trip to India, and my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend from Haryana. I do not remember any of this. Like, at all. Grand!

She was concerned for me because she thought she walked me home in my blacked out state. Instead, I decided to go on a little adventure up to the 7/11 on Peel Street, where I met up with someone I should not have met with. My friend was even more alarmed when I revealed to her that he and I ended up making out under a tree, in spite of the fact that I am not attracted to him, he is not my type, and I don’t want to be involved in whatever his situation is.

Initially, I agreed not to write about this, but now that I understand just how fucked up I actually was that night, I think I should mention that it happened. Obviously, this is not good. I definitely should not have been where I was that night.

My other friend expressed additional concern when we stopped by her bar to visit her after dinner. She said, “Watch her tonight. See how normal she’s acting? It’s only when she goes up to that place that she gets crazy like last week. I think they’re putting something in her drinks.”

This solidified for us that The Sketchy Place is officially off-limits forever. I admit that this is on me. I can’t leave things alone when I should. I let my curiosity get the better of me. I just had to know the truth. Now we know the truth, beyond all reasonable doubt. Something isn’t right there. It’s time to just step away and leave it alone.

For me, this is serving as extra motivation to get my shit together. Only I would accidentally wander into a modern day opium den and get sucked into whatever crazy bullshit is going on there.

Why did this happen to me? Because I don’t have a job. I have too much free time on my hands. I need something productive to do. Time to get to work and stop drinking in bars with increasingly questionable people.

At first I thought it was exciting to meet the so-called scum of society, for academic research purposes only, of course. Now I realize that I need to stay as far away from people like this as humanly possible, especially if I am going to elevate myself to a successful position in society.

It is indeed as my Irish Family in Bangkok said: “You are a Lady. No good will come of you running around down by the docks with all of the riff-raff.”

Truth.

Speaking of riff-raff, last night we met some rich banker lady on a business trip who asked us if we knew where to find cocaine. Ridiculous. These people are such a trip. As previously stated, it’s alarming and terrifying to me how much of the world’s systems are barely being held together by people with active drug addictions. Insanity. Eye-opening, for certain.

Yeah, so, first she asked us if we had any cocaine, then her friend asked us if we are poly. JFC, why aren’t any of these people normal? I guess when you have all the money and all the power, shit gets boring and you gotta spice it up. I can’t even imagine that, personally. I’m still down here at the bottom, scraping by, trying to survive. I guess I’ll figure out the answer to that question later.

Honestly, who wouldn’t be “poly” after two marriages and three kids? You’ve already checked off all the boxes on the life list. Time to throw caution to the wind and have some fun!

Okay, I guess now I know what my plans are for when I’m in my 60’s and my non-existent children are all grown. You know, my non-existent children that came from the eggs I didn’t freeze after The Russian gave me a whole lecture about it, then never came back to fertilize the eggs in question.

That was actually crazy, lol. I just laugh every time I think about him lying in bed next to me buckass naked, lecturing me about my fertility. Like he actually gives a fuck! It’s just funny.

It literally feels like he picked me up by my scorpion tail and checked my underbelly for eggs. It was so weirdly invasive and frankly, way too intimate for a one-night stand. Everything we did was way too intimate for a one-night stand. I just can’t be doing that with strangers anymore. I need an actual partner, for sure.

I’ve been with many men in my life, but none of them ever did anything like that. That was so crazy. Yes, he was really something. I am still thinking about him to this very day. It was an Experience. As with most of my experiences in the last year, I was left alone thinking to myself, “Wow, what was that?”

It was…

Yeah.

Upon further reflection, I can see why the experience was so unsettling for me. I was just sitting there and then suddenly, out of nowhere, here comes this man with impossible amounts of charm and charisma and confidence. He is clearly only seducing me for the purposes of meaningless business trip sex, yet he spends the entire time talking about intimate topics such as marriage and the meaning of partnership and then gives me a fucking lecture about my fertility right at the end. And then he just… fucks off and disappears into a void forever. What the fuck is that? That’s bullshit, that’s what it is. Men are so fucked up. Seriously. Stop picking up random, unsuspecting women at bars who are innocent and looking for love in all the wrong places and get a therapist instead. Ridiculous.

Men are dumb and annoying and this is why I don’t like them. They’re just liars and whores. I’m over it.

Okay, that aside, did anything else weird happen last night? Yes, yes it did. We did not go to the 7/11 on Peel Street because it was raining. Instead, we took a seat at the open corner bar right across the street. The people at this bar were… questionable at best.

There was one woman in there and she was 100% giving crackhead vibes. The Brazilian guy sitting next to her looked at my friend and I like we were fresh meat on a stick. He immediately approached us like he was ready to carve off a slice, you know what I’m saying? Yeah, sure, he was hot and Brazilian and a tennis coach, but the whole situation around us was really not doing it for me. I felt like I was being seduced in Rio by a hottie with a body, only to be robbed of my valuables later. Not into it.

Then his South African friend appeared and asked us if we wanted to go to the jungle with him. Like, hell no, dude. I’ve learned enough about South Africa in the last year to know that I don’t want to go anywhere with you, let alone to “the jungle,” whatever that might be.

I wanted to leave, but this Brazilian dude kept talking and talking and talking and had us blocked in. It was making me nervous, to be honest. Finally, we escaped and went back to my rooftop for a bit. Then my friend went home and I went to bed. No blackouts, no side quests, no unhinged social media posts. Good job, me. Way to act like an actual adult, for once.

This is about the time my friend asked me why I drink so much. The truth is painful. It’s because I was really sad and really lonely and really angry for a very, very, very, very long time. I was not in a position where I could change my life for the better because I was unable to escape the toxic situation I was in. I turned to alcohol and weed because they were the only way I could cope with the fact that I felt like shit every day and had no power to change even though I desperately wanted to.

Now I have changed everything, but the physical chemical addiction and bad habits remain. I recognize that it’s holding me back and causing me serious harm at this point. But… you know… it’s not something I can just stop on my own anymore. The monkey on my back is running the show right now. I know that. I’m not proud of it. I don’t like it. I want to change it. But, you know… rehab is expensive, I live in a foreign country, and I don’t have healthcare back home. It is what it is.

I can only do what I can to minimize consumption at this point. I already killed my 7/11 habit and now I’ve learned the hard way that some people, places, and situations are safer than others. It’s not a good idea to go out alone. It doesn’t end well. It’s not safe. Furthermore, when I go out with my friends, I should feel comfortable enough with them to be sober. I shouldn’t have to hit a three drink minimum before I feel comfortable being myself. What is wrong with me?

This I say as I sit and my favourite brunch place drinking a mimosa to take the edge off from last night. Ridiculous.

Anyway, someday I will turn all of this into a TV show. Who doesn’t love a fatal flaw in a leading character? It’ll be just like Emily in Paris, if Emily struggled with alcoholism behind the scenes. Sort of. I don’t know. I’m still studying teleplay writing at the University of Netflix. I’ll get back to you later.

Speaking of Netflix, I am going home to change into my sweats and curl up in bed with season 2 of Running Point. It’s so rainy and gross out today. It’s the perfect day to rot in bed.

Have a good one!

BLOG: You Want To Go To A Real Party?

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Wednesday.

Strange days, strange nights. My new favourite song lyric is “You’ll get more than you bargained for when you come to Hong Kong.” Ain’t that the truth?

Let me start with Monday night. Late at night, I received a text message from my bartender friend’s mother asking me if I knew where she was. As I had just finished that “Should I Marry A Murderer?” Documentary on Netflix, I immediately panicked. When I didn’t hear from my friend for an hour, I started to spiral. By the next morning, I was fully convinced she had been trafficked or murdered.

I texted her mother asking if she ever showed up. She confirmed that my friend was alive and okay, but the situation she described was unclear. I went to the bar where my friend works in search of her. She was not there, but her Auntie was. I showed her the message and she said, “Oh yeah, last night was crazy. It was a whole thing. I am actually about to go see her right now. Do you want to come?”

Obviously, yes, because I still hadn’t heard from my friend herself, so I was worried. We left the bar and took a cab to Causeway Bay to meet up with my friend at this rooftop bar where she was with her boyfriend. I was so relieved to see her. She explained what happened. She was out drinking and broke her phone, so nobody can currently get ahold of her. Okay, not so bad.

My friend and her Auntie both seemed half-surprised at my concern, but at the same time, they were not really that surprised at all. I have become close with them since I came back to Hong Kong. They share stories with me, I share stories with them, we laugh, we cry, we smoke, we drink. Last night we went out for a girls night and had the best time. We are all real friends now.

It still wigs me out to see how people look at me when I hang out with them. The racism and classism here is so real. There is definitely a sense of “Why is this Western white woman hanging out with Filipina women? Doesn’t she know they’re ‘The Help’? Why are you hanging out with ‘The Help.’”

Probably because I don’t want to spend time around rich white people with active cocaine addictions who classify brown people as “beneath them?” Hmm… just a theory!

Definitely a fish out of water over here. Ugh. I was explaining to them that I’ve grown to resent this concept of “networking” because nine times out of ten, it’s just rich white people doing Coke and Special K together. It’s so depressing to realize the entire financial system on this planet is run by people with active drug addictions, but it is what it is, I guess.

Not exactly a mystery why I, a person who spent 20 years working in the service industry, would want to hang out with other people who work in the service industry. They’re relatable. They have the same perspective as I do. We stand behind the bar and judge the fuck out of the crazy people snorting coke off of dirty bar toilets who somehow think they are “above us.”

Also, I’ve never had a corporate office job and I’ve been trapped out living in the middle of fucking nowhere for 17 years. Now I’m 37 years old and I’m having my first exposure to the “white collar” world. It’s like…. Ugh. Gross.

Most of these people are so out-of-touch with reality. They have no idea we are watching them like they’re characters on a TV show. They just think the people who are bringing them drinks are empty-headed slaves put on earth to serve them because of their presumed “superiority.” It’s ridiculous.

Anyway, we had a good time on the rooftop last night. Plus, we got a discount because my friend had worked there before and everyone on the staff knew her. Perks! I even said to Auntie, “This is your Jack Dawson moment. Like we just surveyed this room of corporate jerks and you looked over at me and said, ‘Do you want to go to a real party now?’”

Yes, yes I do. Take me to the lower decks and we’ll crack open the whiskey and dance until this ship sinks to the bottom of the SEA.

So that’s what we did.

We also wanted to test out the theory that some people and places are safer than others. They have serious concerns about me after hearing my stories about The Sketchy Place and The Wolf. In fact, my friend asked me I remember seeing her on Saturday night after leaving The Sketchy Place. I do not. I barely remember anything about Saturday night, to be honest.

She said I was absolutely fucking shitfaced and she had never seen me in a state like that. She said everyone was concerned because they have all seen me drinking in their bar and they’ve never seen me act like that. I said this is the third instance of a blackout happening at The Sketchy Place. They are very against me going back. I can’t help but agree with them, considering the only two things I remember about being there are watching a drug dealer do business with everyone there and then not having to pay for our tab.

We decided to test out the “How much alcohol can Betsey actually put down before blacking out?” Theory. I was with them all night drinking mojitos, eating snacks, smoking menthols, and laughing hysterically. By the end of it, I was barely tipsy and in a very good mood. This proved to us that yes, The Sketchy Place is, in fact, unsafe, and that I should never go back there ever again.

Mission Accomplished.

Fast forward to this morning. I was not hungover. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. More proof something weird is going on at some of these places. They are convinced I’m being targeted because I’m a writer. They are probably right. It’s not the Triads I’m afraid of here. It’s the Finance Bros and their active drug addictions that make them power-hungry, paranoid, and totally unstable.

I came to the coffee shop, as I always do. However, instead of writing, I launched into a conversion with another writer I met here who is from India. We have a lot in common. He gave me some really good advice and invited me to join a local writer’s group.

I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that I had a vision of Lord Ganesha on a beach in India yesterday, and now there is an Indian man sitting in front of me imparting extremely valuable writing advice. That’s not a coincidence! That’s just Hinduism working its magic.

There are some truly strange things that happen in this world sometimes. Strange, unexplainable things. I believe in all of them. I truly do believe in magic. I believe in it more and more as this year has unfolded. There is no such thing as a coincidence. We always end up exactly where we are supposed to be.

On that note, I am off now. To do what, we don’t know. I’ll let the universe take the lead today. I trust in the process…

BLOG: Gonna Have A Good Day

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Tuesday afternoon.

I am having a good day so far. Looking good, feeling fly. Ain’t nobody dope as me, I’m just so fresh, so clean (so fresh and so clean, clean)!

Did yoga on the rooftop, then showered and got all dolled up for no other reason than just because I can. I set my intention for today to just feel good and be happy and have a nice day.

Luckily for me, my neighbor decided against sneaking up on me during my yoga session. I sensed he was out there at some point because that’s a real thing you can do when you’re real deep into your mind. My guess is that he caught me when I was deep in meditation and realized it’s actually not cool to disrupt someone when they’re in the middle of their yoga practice.

I still got startled by a pigeon afterword, thinking it was him. I’m super paranoid he is going to jump out at me now at any moment and scare the absolute crap out of me. It’s so funny to me how easily I startle. It’s definitely a trauma response, lol. I appreciate the fact that my neighbor and I have made a little inside joke out of it. As I have learned, anything on the Trauma Spectrum is best dealt with humor.

I had a very nice vision while I was meditating today. Much to my surprise, I received a visit from Lord Ganesha himself, which was very unexpected and pleasantly surprising.

In case you need a reminder, Lord Ganesha is the Hindu Elephant God who, amongst many other things, invented writing and the alphabet. He is the god I chose to devote myself to when I was at the Yoga Shala in India. He hasn’t let me down so far!

He was holding pens in all four of his hands with different names on them representing all the different places I’ve been. He handed me the pens and said, “You are doing well, Betsey. I am very pleased with your progress on your story so far. You will be a great writer someday.”

He grew two more arms and held up two choices in his hands. In one hand was a fireball representing anger and in the other hand was a bag of ca$$$h money, baby!

He said, “You must let go of your anger now. It’s holding you back. You must choose. You can stay angry, or you can make money. What do you want?”

Obviously I chose the money because duh, who wouldn’t? He handed me the bag and disappeared. I found myself walking down Agonda Beach back in India all alone, as I usually do when I’m meditating.

The Russian appeared and looked at me really sadly. He stopped me and took me in his arms and started dancing with me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I forgive you,” I answered.

I kissed him goodbye and let him go. Then I got on my horse and rode off alone into the sunset, just as any good American cowgirl would do. The last thing I saw in my vision was myself dressed in white, dancing all alone, looking happy and free.

I came back to reality and felt the sun shining down on me, warming me, soothing me, recharging my battery, bringing me back to life. I said my final prayer, then got up to wash my mat. I felt so good in that moment. I’m still feeling pretty good. I feel extra sparkly today.

After I finished washing my mat, I went back down to my apartment to transform myself from Sweaty Betty mode to Princess mode. I put on my “Self-Esteem Booster” playlist and sang along to it while I showered and got dressed.

It wasn’t until I was packing up to leave that I realized my neighbor could probably hear my fabulously musical rendition of “P.I.M.P.” By 50 Cent. I imagined him sitting on the other side of the wall, looking confused and thinking, “What in the fuck? WHO is this woman?!”

Hilarious, truly, lol.

I guess I just wanted to warn him. I don’t know what ya heard about me, but a bitch can’t get a dollar outta me, lolololol!

Too funny.

Hmm, what should I do today? I don’t know. I just wanted to do something simple and easy that will make me happy, like ride the ding-ding from one end of the island to the other. The weather is perfect for it. Honestly it’s so fun. I don’t care how lame and touristy it is.

Next stop: Kennedy Town!

Oooh, I should stop by HKU campus even though it’s completely unaffordable for me! I just want to see the campus. It’s very historic.

The barista says I should go to the beach. Could be an option. I’m not really in sand mode since I just did yoga and showered. I’m wearing a really pretty dress and I’ve already done my hair and makeup. I’m like, more in… “find a nice cafe overlooking the fragrant harbor and eat lunch there” mode. You know me. My idea of being outdoorsy is sitting on a patio. I already did my workout today. I have zero desire to go on a hike.

LOL these two guys are standing outside the coffee shop talking about how attractive I am in French. They have no idea I can understand everything they are saying. Classic comedy material right here.

Hmmm… what else can I say about today? Well, last night I watched the Netflix documentary “Should I Marry A Murderer?” Girl, damn. It’s scary how easily that could be me. Watching her mental breakdown in real time was pretty distressing.

I do respect and admire the fact that she put in the work of getting the confession and the location of the body. The way the police treated her was really shitty. They didn’t help her at all.

The comments online are even worse. It’s so depressing how many people in the world completely lack empathy. They’re lucky in a way because they have clearly never been in a situation where they themselves or someone they know has seriously struggled with mental health and addition issues. Still… just… sad to read. People are so fucking shitty. They just don’t get it.

She ends it by saying “When you love yourself, you attract healthy love.” This was my inspiration to love myself today. Yes, I will love myself enough not to end up in bed with another sociopath, lololol. We can only hope…

Off now.

All aboard the ding-ding!

Ding ding, ding ding, ding ding…

BLOG: The Cure for Loneliness

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Sunday afternoon. Chillin’ in my apartment on a rainy day. There is something very cozy about rainy days in Hong Kong. The thunder is rolling in, the lightning is flashing, the rain is pounding against the pavement, the streets are slowly filling up with water and flooding. It’s the perfect day to stay inside and cozy up with a cup of tea and Netflix.

I feel much better after this weekend. I was very depressed last week. However, I went out and socialized. Hung out with my neighbor on the rooftop on Friday, went out for dinner with my girl friend last night, had brunch with my Irish friend today. Chatted with my best friend on Instagram. It turns out the cure for loneliness is, in fact, friendship!

My friend and I went to a Lebanese restaurant last night for dinner. The food was delicious! I love Lebanese. My friend is a great person to go out to eat with because she has strong opinions about the subject of food. As a foodie, I personally feel this is the best kind of friend to have.

I asked her if she wanted to go to this French place I’ve been dying to try. She said, “No, I want Lebanese.” I sent her suggestions for four different restaurants. She sent me a voice note back with strong opinions about all of them. The one she chose was really good. I officially trust her judgement on this matter.

We went to the French place afterward for dessert and drinks. They have the most fabulous patio! The design of the whole place was soooooooo Parisian! It was straight outta France! The best part was that all of the waiters were extremely good-looking men. All of them. They were wearing the little suits and everything. It was incredible. I was really hoping they would all form a kickline and break out into a Beauty and the Beast style musical number.

After they closed, we walked down to the 7-11 on Peel Street to pick up some cigs and sat outside watching the crowd. At that point, it was about 1am, so everyone was pretty messy. The crowd was mostly skewing very young. Big “spring semester internship abroad” energy, if you know what I’m saying. More fun to watch from afar than be part of. I was watching a live feed of the crowd on Peel Street last weekend and thinking I was missing out on a vital Hong Kong experience. Now I know it’s just the Hong Kong version of Char Thirty, lol.

This morning, I went out to brunch with my Irish friend. He’s pretty chill. I don’t know how to explain the vibe there. It’s very… familiar. It’s like hanging around with a cousin. I am learning a lot from him. Brunch vibes. It’s definitely the same feeling that I felt when I was with my Irish Family in Bangkok. Friends come in all forms. That’s one of the lessons I’m learning here in SEA.

He asked me how I was feeling about The Russian. I said it was still bothering me a lot. He said, “You must have really liked him.” No, I did not, actually. Somehow I remain frustrated about the entire situation. I think maybe what both of us really wanted was an actual emotional connection and it just wasn’t possible in that specific situation, so it’s just upsetting me and annoying me that I did that when I should have just held out for something deeper and more meaningful. It’s less about the man himself and more about my frustration with the entire situation.

We changed the subject after that. He was telling me about the trip he took to Hanoi, Vietnam. He stayed in this old French colonial palace. Sooo jealous. I want to go to Vietnam so bad. Everyone just raves about it! But I have to wait. I need to get my career shit together. No more running off on adventures until I get my job/career/income situation together. Once I have income and stability, I can run off to Vietnam or Cambodia later.

As I am constantly reminding myself every day, I did not just come to Hong Kong on a whim. My life dream has always been to live in a big international city and have a successful career and live in a fabulous apartment. I am here now. I can succeed at this if I just give it the old college try. I can do this. I have friends who are supporting me on my journey. I can ask for help whenever I need it. It’s going to be okay.

I can do this.

I think it’s really easy for me to fall down into a pit of despair and spiral into anxiety mode. I’m grateful that I had so many friends around me this weekend to raise me back up and knock some sense back into my head. I think the biggest lesson I’m learning as an Expat is that we are never really alone. We all have to be there for each other and support each other. I’m not the only one who experiences these feelings of sadness and loneliness or being lost and faraway from home. There’s a whole community. I can’t be afraid to put myself out there and be part of it just because I’ve had a few weird interactions. There will always be some who to help you out when you need it.

After this weekend, I felt a sense of renewed hope. I’ve just been feeling so down. Now it’s like… okay, I can do this. They call it the Hong Kong Hustle for a reason. Get up off your ass and work!

Going to make a cup of tea and re-watch Eat Pray Love for the billionth time now. The main character is really annoying, but I’ve noticed over several re-watches that she’s sort of written in a way that makes it easy to project yourself onto the character and imagine your own journey unfolding across Italy, India, and Bali instead.

I remember I used to watch it and just dream and dream and dream of traveling. I could have never, ever have conceived of myself going to India or Bali, but now I’ve been to both. Now I live in fricking Hong Kong! And before that, I was living in Thailand! Amazing! I am doing The Thing. I am doing The Eat Pray Love Thing. Go me!

Maybe not every day is a good day, but all that matters is that I did it. I’ve done it. I’m out here doing it. I am Living the Dream. Now let’s keep the dream alive and find ourselves an income!

We’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, it’s time to curl up in my blanket with a tea and enjoy reflecting upon my journey.

Happy Sunday!

BLOG: Shark Fin Soup

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Friday. At the coffee shop. It’s raining today. It rained all last night. The construction was still going on outside until about 2am when the rain started, so the very loud sounds of the drilling were replaced by impossibly loud, extremely terrifying thunder claps. Needless to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night.

Instead I stayed up late into the night vision boarding and life planning. I was looking at everything I was doing this time last year before Hong Kong. So much hope for the future, lol. Looking back now, I can see why I immediately fell into a deep depression when that first TEFL job went off the rails. Mistake! It wasn’t my fault. This company has a terrible reputation here in Hong Kong!

Still, most people I’ve met out here are better about jumping back fast. It took me more time than I thought it would to jump back. Then again, I was carrying a lot with me when I came here. Like I’ve said, it took me six months just to feel safe in the fact that I don’t have to go back to SD. There was also the breakup, all of the unprocessed feelings about my dad’s death, etc etc etc. I was in pretty rough shape.

Luckily for me, Bali and Thailand’s expertise is nursing sick water buffalo like me back to health, so here I am now. Back in Hong Kong. Recovering after a mysterious set of injuries appeared after I blacked out at the Sevens. Grand.

The good news is that I did get another ping from a source regarding the shadiness of one of those bars, so I’m not wrong to be concerned there might be more to the story. Maybe I was actually followed and attacked? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I guess I would rather think I fell down the stairs because it’s a more pleasant version of reality…

Anyway, going over my old Pinterest boards always kicks my ass back into gear. I had a plan once. I had motivation. I had goals and dreams and a notebook full of financial worksheets and fancy charts. All of my academic dreams are well within my reach. Ireland is within my reach. The whole world is within my reach. I just have to work for it.

Let’s just channel The Russian’s energy here for a second, just to help me be less messy for five seconds. This is a person who is very educated, has traveled extensively, and started his own business. This is basically just the male version of the person I would like to be. It’s a good thing I fucked him, because now I have his energy inside me and I can be more like that.

It’s like how some Chinese people snort ground up rhino horns or eat shark fin soup or whatever. They do it because they think they’re absorbing the power of that animal. This is my new strategy with men: absorb the power of the animal, which in this case is a scorpion. So just more of the same, but manlier, lol.

That’s actually not limited to the Chinese at all. Wasn’t there an English king who ate a lion’s heart because he thought it would make him more powerful in the Crusades or something? Yeah, Richard the Lionheart. From Robin Hood. I think? Somebody fact check that for me later. I’m in the middle of a flow and now I’m moving on to the part about West African War Lords in eating children’s hearts and snorting gunpowder or whatever.

Hmm… I think I’m starting to figure out why men are so afraid of women, lol.

Anyway, that was a neurodivergent side quest into history. Side bar over. What was I talking about again? Absorbing Finance Bro energy to make myself stronger and more powerful? Yeah, that sounds about right. Somehow this has something to do with making vision boards on Pinterest. I have no idea, lol. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Or maybe I just haven’t finished my coffee yet.

I think my goal for the day was to re-do my resume for the billionth time, split it into multiple versions, and start sending it out, again. I was using a local job board, but I have gotten nothing back from it, so I’m switching to a different tactic. Be open. Embrace the chaos. Get that passport stamped. Worry less, travel more. See the world! Save money! Go back to school! Write about it all later!

Hmm.

Too bad The Russian ghosted me. I’m sure he would really appreciate me comparing his dick to illegally-poached ivory products and shark fin soup. I can imagine him doubled over laughing hysterically on the red leather couch right now.

Alas.

I just have to remember: I am not helpless. I am awesome! I am empowered! I’ve made it this far, and by this far, I mean traveling to a dozen countries in two years, attending two yoga teacher training courses in India and Bali, surviving life in Hong Kong after a failed TEFL job, finding my inspiration to write again while briefly living in Bangkok, and adding more characters to my Island of Lost Guys along the way.

I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who was intentionally pushed into a mental breakdown after her father died by her incredibly sick-minded co-workers from Starbucks for entertainment. That was three years ago! Wow! And where are those jerks now? Well, one of them definitely went to jail for assault, so there you have it!

Thank god I escaped that place. I hated South Dakota so much. There are no words. I don’t know what’s wrong with those people. They choose conflict and drama every time. Now that I’m far away from it and I don’t have to deal with it anymore or be an active target, I can see how wrong it really was. Sick, sick, sick people. Just sick, twisted, and evil.

Okay. Forget all of that. It’s hard. I still try to drown it out every day. It still affects my confidence. I still have flashbacks about the days I was constantly being attacked online, at work, around town, by my family, by my exes. It went on for years and years and years and years. It’s not easy to forget. I just have to keep adding new memories, new languages, new travels, new stories, new media, new everything to my brain to replace it all.

It is like Kim Kardashian says. “You just need to do so many photoshoots. The good pictures will replace all the bad pictures and soon everyone will forget the bad pictures altogether.”

I can’t remember if she said that in the show or if she said it to me in a dream. That happens sometimes. I have dreams about her coming to me and giving me life advice. Kim K and Paris Hilton. It’s a whole thing. Judge me all you want. I don’t care. I’m willing to take the L on this one. I shamelessly Keep Up and I have no regrets about it.

Okay, I had a mission today. That mission is to get up off my ass and work. Try to find a way to keep the past from haunting me forever. Move forward. Find a new job. Live a new life. Save money. Go back to school. The whole jam.

Motivated AF!

The Chinese guy sitting next to me at the cafe just looked at the bottom of his mug and read his foam the same way one would read tea leaves. How fun! I’m going to try that now. Let’s see what comes up…

Ohhhhhh I definitely got a heart! And a snake. So love is coming, but there will be obstacles along the way. No worries. That’s why I’ve got not one, but two statues of Ganesha, as well as a giant rainbow tapestry depicting him. Obstacles? No problem! We’ll be cruising on through like we’re on a TukTuk ride through New Delhi at rush hour!

BLOG: See the SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I do not know.

I am early to the coffee shop today. Early meaning 10:15am. Normally I come around lunchtime because the streets are busier and much more fun to watch. Today I came early just because I woke up at sunrise, a rarity for me here in Hong Kong.

I am doing a little bit better today. I went out for pizza on the patio last night, which I have not done in over a month. I’ve been going out to different places and trying new things in an effort to cease my reliance on my Western comforts. That being said, one can only eat rice and noodles for so long before they need a slice of pizza with hot sauce and a cup of ranch on the side.

In the case of Thailand, this particular craving manifests as a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of coleslaw and ketchup. I would never, ever eat such a thing in the US. But in Bangkok? Hell yes, give me that shit, I haven’t seen a single tomato in weeks.

I also did a really intense 3-hour Tibetan Buddhist meditation session last night. The drilling on the street was going until pretty late, so I put on my headphones and some chanting and vibed. I had a vision I was doing yoga in Rishikesh. I had a notebook with me full of bucket list items that I was checking off. A nice little reminder that I am, in fact, living my life to the fullest. It’s okay to give myself some space for rest.

Overall, I feel good about my decision to stay in SEA, for now. There is so much more to see and do! Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Taiwan, Singapore, Japan, Korea, Mainland China, the Phillippeans, and, of course, everywhere in Thailand outside of Bangkok. I can go back West to study another time.

Everyone says the first year abroad is the hardest. I would agree with this. It’s been a lot of ups and downs. I’ve seen a mix of beautiful things and things no human being should ever see. It’s been an adventure I wouldn’t trade for the world. Resubscribe me for another year!

Now, if only my job applications would stop disappearing into the void. I need to find work, ASAP.

Anything to distract me from the intrusive thoughts I am having about The Russian. Ugh. Men. So annoying. I thought if I dated guys who just got on a plane and left, it would be much easier to cut the cord. However, this guy has proven it is not so easy, which sucks because I’m pretty sure he’s never coming back! So sad.

Why did I allow myself to be swept off my feet by his overwhelming charm? Probably because it had been five months since the Hot Beef Stew. I was ready to get him out of my system and fantasize about someone else! LOL! Well, I definitely got what I asked for. I am merely sitting in observation of my feelings now. I allow them to exist, but I take no action regarding them. There is no action to take. He is gone. The story is over. The End!

Anyway. Forget him. Let us focus on what is necessary and important: job hunting. Forever and always!

We need to step it up. Do the Hong Kong Hustle, as they say.

I have no idea how I live here some days. You’d think with my current energy levels, I’d be much happier rotting on a beach somewhere in Thailand or Vietnam. However, being here in Hong Kong and soaking up the professional vibes is good for me. It’s motivating. It’s inspiring. It pushes me to be something better than I am. That’s what I need right now in my life. I want to move up to the next level.

Just push me up the escalator to that next level. One more staircase, one more hill, just keep climbing and climbing and climbing until I reach the top…

BLOG: All Over The Place

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Here we are. Monday, again.

Still nothing to show for my efforts but some blog posts. I like to think it’s okay because I’m getting funnier, in spite of my occasional brush with darkness out here in SEA.

I applied for another crop of jobs last week. Nothing. It’s all the same recycled job postings that were there in January. So I am basically applying to be rejected by the same companies all over again. Fun.

I wish I knew how to do what I do all day and make money from it. All of my problems would be solved. No more pretending I like people. No more “networking.” No more masking. No more exhaustion that actively prevents me from writing and creating art. Just this, all day every day, for the rest of my life. I would be fine with that.

I thought about throwing in a random application for a Masters program at HKU. They would need to pay for literally everything though because I have no money for anything. Not school fees, not an apartment, nothing. I’m in the same position no matter where I move my piece on the board. Sucks.

I was feeling more motivated about it on Saturday morning. Now I don’t feel any motivation to do anything at all. I thought my depression would go away if I moved to the opposite side of the world, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. Some days I just get so lonely and overwhelmed here. I feel so lost. I don’t know who I am or what I want. I am just at the whim on the universe. I am not taking an active role in my own life at all. Honestly, I don’t think I even know how.

In the meantime, I am trying to make peace with things as they are. As I said the other day, I finally made peace with Bloody Mary’s. As we always knew, I was right and all of them were wrong. South Dakota people just enjoy being cruel for the sake of being cruel. They see someone out there doing something different and their first instinct is to burn the witch at the stake. That has literally nothing to do with me or my book. That state is just all bad vibes, all the time. It’s not about me.

I got rid of Andrew months ago, so that’s not an issue anymore. I’ve replaced him with true stories of ridiculous dates I’ve been out on with real men. Made peace with the deaths of Mad Dog, my dad, my aunt, my uncle, and my grandmother.

One thing I cannot make peace with is my living family. There is no peace to be made. It’s a source of constant struggle for me. I want to make peace with it, but I really struggle to accept how fucked up the situation is. It doesn’t help that my mom, grandmother, sisters and aunts basically stonewall me whenever I try to communicate. They really think they can just pretend nothing bad ever happened. They literally refuse to take any kind of accountability for anything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to communicate ANYTHING to them, at all. They will always DARVO me.

They still act like me moving abroad is the gravest crime ever to be committed on earth, which again, makes absolutely zero sense because my aunt literally lived here in Hong Kong for a year. You would think she would be happy for me or asking for pictures or checking in. But she doesn’t. It’s just… radio fucking silence from all of them. It’s so weird.

I swear it feels like leaving a cult, but I don’t know what cult it is or understand how it operates. I can only say that my cousins on my mom’s side are all also in the same situation where their parents are extremely controlling and keep them contained close to home in spite of the fact that they are all fully-grown adults. It’s weird. That whole family is weird. It’s only now that I am on the other side of the world, watching other people post pictures of their families visiting them, that I realize… that shit ain’t right.

I never speak to my dad’s side anymore. After he died, my aunt went full mask off and basically said, “You’re not my family anymore. I don’t want to spend time around you or invite you to things. I don’t want to deal with you at all.” Okay, crazy. I’m sure my Irish grandmother would love to see you treating your own blood relatives like that. I bet she’s really proud.

So yeah, I am definitely having a lot of trouble moving past the family stuff. As I’ve mentioned previously, I am the Family Scapegoat, which means everyone treats me like a punching bag they can take out all their negative emotions on. This is why nobody is happy for me and why they refuse to acknowledge my writing career. They don’t want me to succeed. They want me to fail so they can continue beating up on me. I refuse to accept that kind of treatment anymore, so they are vilifying me for walking away from it and setting up boundaries. It’s all very textbook for people with undiagnosed personality disorders.

I think it’s really hard knowing that they feel this way and act this way. I think I did something really brave by accepting a job on the other side of the world, getting on a plane to come here, and then sticking it out for the rest of the year when the job didn’t work out. I think it’s amazing that I’ve visited 12 countries, studied yoga in India and Bali, and lived in Bangkok and Hong Kong. I never, ever thought in a million years my life would look like this. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. And my family, the people who are supposed to be supportive and provide unconditional love, all hate me for it.

Why?

I have so much weighing on my mind right now. My date with the Russian was merely a distraction from all of this. Men are always just a distraction from all of this. They come and they go and, if we are lucky, they provide some entertainment along the way. That’s all we can hope for in this life. There’s no point in expecting anything more from any of them. Just get the story and leave. Don’t get attached. Don’t get hung up. Just take the story and leave.

I know I have this fantasy that if I go to Ireland to research my family history that I will find a new family that loves me and accepts me for who I am. I think this is very unrealistic. I should not go because I expect to find something or receive something in return. I should go because I want to spend my days unraveling old scrolls in the library just for the sake of learning and education. I’m setting myself up to fail by going there “for the people.” I should go for me, to find me, to learn to love me and understand who I am outside of my overly-controlling family.

Anyway, it’s not a good time right now. In addition to the housing crisis, now there is a fuel crisis affecting the entire country. All weekend my feed was dominated by footage of the protests across Ireland. I just felt like… maybe it’s not my time yet. Maybe I have more to learn out here in SEA before I go there.

I don’t know. I am so lost right now. I can’t pick a road to travel down. Some days I just want to go back to India to study more yoga. Some days I want to hop a flight to Vietnam or Cambodia. Some days I want to go to Ireland. Some days I want to dump off all my stuff at my brother’s apartment and just take a backpack all around Africa. Some days I just want to get married and have a nice apartment/condo/house/whatever to decorate. Some days I want to go to graduate school. I really am, as my AI-generated google search results say, “All Over The Place.”

Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel today: All Over the Place.

BLOG: I Think We Lost The Plot

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Thursday. Where did the week go? Oh yes, I know. I spent all day yesterday sucked into Netflix while actively avoiding reality. Nothing like a good true crime docu trio to wake you up to all of the different ways life could go wrong.

I’m not really partial to the murders myself. I like the documentaries about cults and cult psychology. I have watched ALL of the cult documentaries. Unemployment Level 100. I am also fascinated by cult psychology because, as an American, I recognize that my country has been taken over by a very dangerous cult.

This particular documentary was about the FLDS in Utah. It is absolutely terrifying to watch as a woman. I have nothing but respect for Dr. Christine Marie. She is definitely one of my new role models. That documentary was harrowing.

Then I watched the one about the pro cyclist who was murdered by the jealous girlfriend of some loser guy. The girlfriend took off to Costa Rica, where she was hiding out at various yoga retreats. That one definitely made me think a lot. I just looked back at some of the people I met in India and Bali and was like, “WTF were they running from?”

Some of them were really strange and off. As I’ve said before, I’m not sure I would go back to Bali again after what I experienced there. Bangkok, yes. Bali, no.

I found people in Bangkok were generally more open about the fact that they are running away from something. Maybe they won’t tell you what it is, but it’s kinda just the general vibe of the expat community in Thailand. It’s like walking into the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. You know everyone in there has come from somewhere else to do some kind of shady business. It’s just better not to ask too many questions about it.

In Bali, people are presenting themselves to be something they are not, and what that something is generally involves grifting off of people struggling with mental health, grief, spiritual questions, and a lack of meaning/purpose. I definitely saw some cult-adjacent shit while I was there. I also met people who were just… way, way, way off. Like “maybe they should be in the Hotel California and not running a yoga studio in Bali” kinds of off. Ya know what I’m saying?

It did feel validating in that way. I think sometimes I can be sensitive and take other people’s weird behavior super personally when in reality it has nothing to do with me at all. Like, maybe that lady wasn’t mean to me because I’m a bad person who deserves it. Maybe she killed her husband’s affair partner and went on the run and now she’s hiding out in Bali and she’s worried some writer is going to go snooping around and find out the truth.

Maybe.

Or maybe she was just having a bad day. Either way, this isn’t about me. Don’t take it personally. I’m perfectly grand just the way I am.

Right now I am sitting outside the coffee shop, watching people on the street. I just love Hong Kong. I really do. Every day I wake up and think, “Wow, I can’t believe I get to live here. This is the most incredible opportunity of my entire life. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for it every single day.”

I was meditating last night before bed and the spirit of my Irish grandmother showed up to talk to me. She said, “Do you know what the Irish Dream is? Not the American Dream. The Irish Dream. The Irish Dream is for our children to be free to become writers, poets, artists, musicians, filmmakers. It’s to give them the gift of free time so they can create. You don’t have to slave away at the docks or in the factories or give up your education to take care of a dozen children. We did all of this so you can sit outside on the rooftop and write your book and enjoy life in Hong Kong. Stop feeling guilty about it. Enjoy it. We did it all for you.”

Okay, okay, okay. I get it. My sole purpose on this earth is to Create. I must honor my ancestors by finding a way to become a serious, professional writer. Well, we all know the first two steps: money and a room of one’s own. I have that right now, yes, but how to maintain it over time is a problem.

I don’t know. Somehow I keep making it work. Failing upward, as they say. Perhaps a reminder to focus on manifesting simple things like a fabulous apartment that someone else is paying for so I can just sit there and write all day. Hahaha.

I’m not joking. That’s a real thing. It’s called “patronage.” It’s where rich people give you money and a room of your own so you can create art all day. I’ve actually had several patrons in my life, including my father, my uncle, my aunt, and The Publisher. It really is the best way to go. At least, for now.

That’s what I have to manifest: a patron! Ah, yes, so simple. Why did I not think of it before? Patron, patron, patron.

Brilliant.

Haha, aww, the song “I’ll Be Missing You” just came on the street stereo the delivery guy always plays around this time of day. Definitely a message from my ancestors. My dad always does that. Communicate through music, I mean. Sometimes I’ll just be sitting somewhere random and a playlist comes on that only he would make and I just know he’s there.

Oh yeah, they’re definitely there right now. It just switched to “Empire State of Mind.” Big New York City energy coming in right now. It’s a whole thing.

Now I am sitting here thinking about my book/Netflix show, lol. I’ve been going through my manuscript I made in January and I just hate it. The first half is such a slog. I just want to delete it all, speed up the timeline, and just have the first 10 pages/minutes be a montage of my dad’s funeral, getting fired from Starbucks, car breaking down, losing the house, getting a giant check in the mail, and buying a one-way ticket to India. That’s it. Fuck South Dakota. This is the terrible Prequel series no one asked for. Everything since India is like… my actual real life as I have always wanted to live it finally began. That’s the real story here!

I think we’ve kind of lost the plot a little bit here. Yes, I have meaning. I have purpose. I am a writer. It’s my dream to become a professional writer. That is why I am here. I got on that plane to have a crazy adventure and write it all down. Take whatever comes at me along the way. I did that. I’ve done it. I am actively doing it, even when it comes at a cost, like my little adventure up to the Mid-Levels.

So now we have to figure out how to steer the career into professional mode. I have no idea how to do that. I have no talent for business whatsoever. I need an agent/editor type to guide me in the right direction. Someone who has that eye for business in the way that I don’t and all of the connections I need but don’t have. Again, a patron type.

Okay, I feel like I’m back to normal now after my date with the Russian. Wow, what was that? Hmm. Wild. I don’t actually have anything else I want to say about him here. I just wanted him to know… I could have easily ripped you apart, but I didn’t. But I could. So just… know that.

Honestly, couldn’t even tell ya what he does for a living. You could be water boarding me old school Soviet style and I’d be like, “I swear to you, I don’t know! It sounded so boring. I checked out halfway through his explanation and started examining the crystal chandelier and hanging gardens at the Four Seasons. I can list off every plant and flower in the terrarium. Couldn’t tell ya what he does for work. Something with Finance, maybe? I thought he said he owned his own business. I honestly have no idea.”

The world will never know. Furthermore, the world does not care. The world cares about the part where two Scorpios went on a date to a bar that looks like an old-timey opium den/brothel and it was the most on-brand thing ever for both of them. Show us those terrible red leather couches from the 80’s! That’s what the world really wants to see!

Netflix execs will be like, “How is this even relevant to the plot?”

It’s not, it’s just an excuse to film at the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong. Since when do we need a plot for sex? Spoiler alert: there is no plot. This is just a random, gratuitous sex scene with no purpose or relevance whatsoever. Since when do you have a problem including that in your shows?!

They’ll be like, “You’re right. Let’s make sure we get a top-notch intimacy coordinator on board with this production.”

IDK, I think that might be too “woke” for the Russian. I can just imagine the look of outrage on his face right now…

Ha ha ha!

I think I’m hilarious.

Off now. To do what, we don’t know. We know we’re not going back to the Mid-Levels anytime soon!

The battle of Hong Kong Island neighborhoods continues. So far I’ve eliminated Causeway Bay (too busy), Wan Chai (too wild), Central (too expensive), Happy Valley (too far), and the Mid-Levels (too bougie). I’m actually quite happy in Sheung Wan. It’s very… French. Close to everything, but easy to escape from the chaos of the city with a quick trip up to my rooftop.

I think I’ll go do that right now, actually. Then I have to clean my apartment because it’s a mess. All of my clothes are piled onto “the chair” instead of hanging in my closet, where they should be. Alas, I am not fancy enough to have a “helper” or live in an upscale “serviced apartment.” I am confined to my tiny little coffin box with the rats and the cockroaches, living off snacks and instant noodles from 7-11.

It is what it is.

BLOG: Ye Olde Caste System

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Saturday afternoon.

I did not get home until about 4am last night. My sleep schedule is officially fucked.

I stayed after at my favourite bar with my bartender friend and her auntie. They are from the Philippines, and therefore have some absolutely crazy stories to share.

We sat out on the street and had some drinks (very much legal and acceptable in HK) and traded stories. I asked them if they minded if I wrote down their stories and shared them on my blog. They laughed and said, “I thought you already were.”

At the end of the night, they thanked me for giving them a safe space in which to share their stories. They said Westerners usually treat Filipinas like crap. I’ve definitely noticed that since I’ve been here. They are treated like second class citizens here. They are usually working service jobs or as maids/helpers/housekeepers/nannies.

I’ve noticed I get really strange looks from other Westerners when I’m at the bar chatting with my friend. We usually go out to have a cigarette together during her break. People always give me a weird look like, “Why are you talking to The Help?”

IDK, because they’re human beings with interesting stories to tell, and you’re a boring business executive who drones on about work all the time? I guess I relate more to the bartenders and servers because those are the jobs I’ve always done to support myself as a writer.

Unfortunately, my endless experience means nothing, as I am locked out of the service industry here for the aforementioned race and class issues. They don’t give those jobs to educated white Western women here. They just don’t.

If I have to listen to one more racist rant from some old British dude, I swear to god I’m gonna lose it. Last night there was one who came into the bar at like 11pm and ordered a Bloody Mary. My first thought was, “What time of day do you think it is? This is a morning drink!” Both my bartender friend and I were judging him.

He came in with his British-Indian friend, who he proceeded to hold hostage with a rant about immigration in England. I get so annoyed when English people do this. They have ZERO self-awareness whatsoever. It always follows the same pattern of “They come to England and they don’t try to understand our culture or history or heritage.”

I’m always just like… “Now you know how it feels, oh Once-Great Colonizer of the Entire World.”

I could tell his Indian friend was just sitting there like, “I hate this fucking guy.” Needless to say, they left after exactly one drink.

I then turned my attention to the other side of the bar, where the energy was increasingly weird. In one corner, we had a group of businessmen who my friend recognized from Wan Chai. Wan Chai is now called “The Grey Area” because it is becoming increasingly common for sex workers to do business there. Being recognized from Wan Chai as a man is not a good thing.

At the bar were two sex workers, one who was working that night while the other acted as her “manager.” They were deep in conversation with another old white British dude, who would not stop making loud, obnoxious, sexually-charged comments for all the bar to hear.

He was also chatting with another one of the servers, who was off-duty at this point. Another guy tried to come in and talk to her while he was in the bathroom. When he came back, he put himself between her and the random, who looked very heartbroken when he realized he had been rejected. He took out his phone and spent the rest of his time playing chess while occasionally looking up at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I was very much not into it. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After they all cleared out and they closed the bar down, we all went out to sit in the street. We watched people as they walked home from their various adventures out. We saw one couple coming that was quite obviously a John and a sex worker.

How do we know she was a sex worker? Let’s just say… you learn to identify the calling cards over time. It’s not always necessarily how they dress, but there is definitely a certain way they dress that stands out in a more conservative, business-oriented city like Hong Kong. There’s also the types of drinks they order and how they stand at the bar. It’s a whole vibe. I was taught how to spot them by a man when I was in Dubai. Turns out this lesson has come in very handy in SEA.

He said very loudly to her as they passed, “I don’t even know how old you are!” My friend and I went silent, looked at each other, and nodded in acknowledgement that yes, she was definitely a sex worker.

I’m not judging. I’m just here to watch the show.

My friend told me another horror story she heard about the Indonesian sex workers in Wan Chai. Here is another strange race/class differentiation I did not realize existed. She said Thais and Filipinas used to be seen as the “bottom of ladder,” so to speak. These days they have “elevated themselves,” so they mostly come to Hong Kong to work service jobs, save money, start a business, and get an education.

The bottom rung now belongs to Indonesians, who are now seen as being “lower” than Filipinas because they are so desperate they will do anything for money, including being exploited and degraded sexually. I suspect most of them are being drugged and trafficked, especially based on the level of degradation involved in some of these stories I’m hearing.

This is all brand new information to me. Racism in Asia is on another level, truly. I thought I understood what racism was after living in South Dakota, but I was wrong. I don’t know shit about shit in this world. That is the only thing I am 100% certain of these days.

As we discussed all of this, my friend turned to me and said, “This is exactly why all those men didn’t like you writing about them in Bangkok. They don’t want you to know the truth about what they’re involved in. They know you’re onto them.”

True, true.

She thinks they were actually trying to protect me from something I don’t understand. I suspect the same. My only question is, “Are they protecting me, or are they protecting themselves?”

She says she’s afraid for my safety if I go back there again. I think she might be right, especially after they started making “jokes” about how I remind them of an Irish journalist who got shot in the head while out on assignment. Grand.

Again she said to me, “I am so grateful you are listening to our stories. I feel safe with you. You can help a lot of people by getting this information out there. They don’t listen us, but they will listen to you.”

I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely trying.

As I walked home alone at 4am, I felt the weight of the world upon me once again. I knew without a doubt this is what I’m meant to be doing. This is my mission. This is my purpose. This is what gives my life meaning. I am supposed to be a writer. I am supposed to be here, listening to these stories and sharing them with the world. I just need a different outlet for it. How do I make myself into a professional writer?

I don’t know.

This is the only question I have to answer now. I must move forward somehow. I cannot remain as I am. I need to figure out how to play my hand. I guess I will just have to be patient and wait for the answer to come.