Near the end of the tour we visited the Summer Palace, a park of nearly three square kilometers, most of which is water. Beautiful buildings of ancient architecture surrounded a large lake where an empress dowager liked to fish as recreation. Indeed, her version of the sport consisted of sitting in a boat with rod and line while her servants swam underneath and stuck fish on her hook. Got another one!
Beijing. Big, bold, breathtaking Beijing. My desire for pagodas and red-tiled rooftops was sated as was my yen for local food. I could go home satisfied that I was able to touch on a portion of China's vast history and rich culture.
Our final morning was spent in — guess what — a shopping mall. I bought a purse. A bubblegum-pink purse. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never used it. I chalk the purchase up to vegetable deprivation.
Mr. Leung was excited about this particular mall because the top floor housed a food court where one could find excellent meals at very low prices. I wandered the many levels of the center, then passed through the restaurant area, where my friends happily lunched. I couldn't do it. I needed a salad and the idea of one more chunk of pork was beyond comprehension.
Later in the Beijing airport I was certain I would find a salad. I came upon a cafeteria with a showcase featuring synthetic replicas of their menu items. A plastic hot dog with plastic mustard. Plastic spaghetti with plastic red sauce. And then...there it was. A plastic Caesar salad, with little brown plastic croutons. A server raised her eyebrows as a way of asking my order and I pointed to the salad.
The what?
She came around the glass case and studied the thing. She called her co-worker over and the two of them gawked at it like they'd never seen such a thing. They looked at me and shook their heads. They had no idea what that thing was but would I like a hot dog?
When we arrived back in Hong Kong I turned to my group à la Dorothy saying farewell in Oz. In five short but long days I'd become fond of each of them. I loved that they had taught me how to wash all my dishes with hot tea. I developed such affection for the lady who regularly chatted with me in Chinese as I nodded and smiled. We had a nice hug at the airport.
Bye to Mr. Leung and his wife. Bye to Leonard and his mom. And then Bryan, who actually managed to pick up a few English words unrelated to the Lakers. Certainly more than I accomplished, language-wise. Ni hao was all I had learned, but I would never forget it.
Home is where you make it, and during our Hong Kong adventure we had made our home there. Now I was ready to get back to base camp in Los Angeles, reclaim our pets and jump-start my life. I was unsure what that would entail. After four years of following William around the globe I had no idea what my future held back home. I dreamed of writing more than the unsold screenplays I had labored over. As William's career was gaining traction, mine had slipped into nowheresville.
Who was I? What was I supposed to be doing? And where had my artistic life disappeared to? Purpose and creativity eluded me. William would follow me home in a couple of months, but until that time I would live alone with the weight of those questions. It was time to sort this stuff out and I needed to do it back home.
My final days in Hong Kong started to feel nostalgic. I viewed the malls and street life with seasoned eyes while remembering my initial impressions. After almost two months in the territory I imagined myself a local. As ready as I was to get back to Los Angeles I still wanted to savor the tastes and smells of our Hong Kong adventure.
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