Milk walk

There is such a thing as too much of a good thing, perhaps in the dairy department. Last year I overdid ice cream "tastings" in DC, and yesterday I might have matched the intake of all things that can come from a cow. Two containers of full fat Fage yogurt (isn't that a healthy thing???), a double scoop of Mado Turkish ice cream (now that I think of it, that came from a goat), double cream brie on crackers nibbled at the park, and then I had to go have hot chocolate at agnes b (they have some delectable looking desserts but all I wanted was the hot c).

How to offset all that milk? I decided to take a long walk, specifically from Tai Koo to Causeway Bay. I estimate that long course was around 4 km, and following the tram/bus routes, King's road all the way along the northern front of the island, it was a good tramp through some of the least touristy bits of the city. I finally finished my walk at the Central Library, with it's 9 floors of learning a comfortable beacon for my feet. It may also have the best bathrooms that side of the city.

I took to the streets again this morning to have a Cantonese version of diner food. Why go to McDonalds or Starbucks when there's egg fry ups with butter bread accompanied by a large bowl of shredded abalone and ham with macaroni? Add a steaming cup of milky tea, and I'm set to go. I decided to pick up two large buns at the restaurants bread display, a cha siu bao and an egg bun, as part of the provisions for my trip back up into the border. Comfort food aka defense against the elements.

48 hours in Hong Kong

Another of those long coast trips down to Hong Kong, with time enough to just chill, tramp around old haunts, and munch - Indian, Vietnamese, a good burger, ice cream, cheese, and chocolates. Is it a silly bad habit to go straight to a bookstore (one I had never been to, I felt like I should make a wish, a habit that my mother fostered in us when we'd go to a new church), and buy a book, some magazines, knowing I could have saved money on buying used books, but the smell, oh the smell of a bookstore, the paper, the chemicals, the silly knick-knacks?
My rented room is along a row of pet stores, and the one next door has a number of pure breed cats on show. One of them, a scottish fold, looked up at me, raised its paws, and mewed. Oh, be still my melting knees. If only I could take you home with me, such a cutie.
Before taking refuge in the airconditioned chill of the movie theatre (HP6; why am I damned never to see UP in a theater? It opens the day I go back to China.), I wander the lower bowels of SOGO. I used to live a stone's throw away from SOGO in the late 90's, and I mourn how little I took advantage of it's amazing fruit selections, the fun little cooking items from Japan. Now, I wish I had time, money, and suitcase space enough to take them all home. Isn't that always the case?
I'm heading into Indian food territory later, expecting to reek of spice and garlic. Then a night of street food noshing, soaking in all the neon lights, people watching, window shopping, fantasizing about who would want a plastic raincoat studded with grommets (K, I'm thinking you), and maybe meowing back at the kitty cat before it gets taken to a new home. Or should I plan a cat heist??