Intruder Alert: Confirmed Poop on the Sink

I am still new to "tropical living". There is much to get used to- from the size and appliances in the kitchen (no oven, no gas, only one person can fit at a time, etc) to always having dirty feet because the bottoms are always sticky and it's too hot to wear socks. I feel like every single day, I am learning new facets of a different life and a different way to live.

So, I admit, this particular mystery took me a while to figure out. Because I am super into insects (and dead things), every little bit and spec, moving or not catches my eye. I often stare at fallen leaves, crumpled discarded tissues, tire shards, fallen tree bits and rubber peelings imagining possible movement or the creature it once was. I stop, approach slowly and move my face as close as I can before I figure out that my imagination is getting the best of me.

As mentioned above, our kitchen is pretty small. There is a two compartment sink, but it is very shallow and not very large. If you cook one meal, it is respectful to clean the dishes shortly there after only because there is no room for anything else to happen. Therefore, I frequently find myself doing the dishes. It did not take long for me to notice the little "brown crumbs" that almost looked like dried pieces of fried rice on the upper ledge of the sink, mostly where one would place a sponge to dry. I would wipe it clean and not think of it again. Then the next day, there would be another piece of fried rice. Then a few more. I started to realize, "Hey!! This is probably poop!!" and immediately started trying to find traces of mice. These turds on the sink, look similar to mouse poops but a tiny bit larger, less cylindrical and smooth and much less abundant. Whenever I would walk into the kitchen, I would look up, around, down, across, and beneath searching for clues. I found nothing. But I have also been going to bed quite early and maybe missing some key research. For the past 4 or 5 nights, I have been up a little later and made it a point to check out the kitchen.

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot this is Alfa Charlie Bravo, we have a 10-99er- the cobra is in the hen house eating the popcorn. I repeat, the cobra is in the hen house. Over."

Turns out, there are about three species of visiting geckos in our kitchen. I could be mistaken, because one of these species does turn from light to dark. Further investigation is needed and in development as I type.
*Poopeater Out.

{Thanks to HKU Reptiles of Hong Kong and Mongabay.com for photos}

Working on Fitting in

There is always a little bit (or a lot) of culture shock when traveling to far off lands. How you respond to these feelings is what makes to a "good traveler" or a "rough traveler". For me, traveling is fairly easy. I tend to adapt quickly and find beauty in even the most mundane. I eat most things. Growing up with an older brother who loved to eat the "exotic" and "weird", I was raised to never turn my nose up at anything. Always taste and be polite. I even have an (non-deadly) allergy to shellfish, that most people would never know about because I will always eat what I am offered... and often times enjoy it tremendously.
Here it comes-
However, living here has been rough mostly because of one fact. I am accepting of the fact that I am sweating more than I ever have in my entire life. Everything is wet, all the time. My scalp is a good 10 degrees hotter than the rest of my body. Those who know me at all, know that I never sweat. Not even on the hottest days in Chicago, when I am wearing jeans. I can't even remember the last time I put pants on.  But this, I can deal with. What I am really struggling with in the treatment of animals, mostly fish and marine invertebrates.
I get it. You don't want to eat a fish that was killed hours ago, let alone a few days ago. I get that people eat fish every day, multiple times a day. I know in most cases, the fish I see, probably just came out of the water that morning or night, and they don't live long in these buckets or tanks that are on display. But man, they are such beautiful creatures! Cuddle fish??? I never thought I would see one alive... and there they were in a little box, with an tiny aerator, looking up at me, waiting to be pulled out and placed in a plastic bag with no water... or best case they are killed and cleaned on the spot. I know their smart. I swear they look at me... "Anna.... Anna!"
Last night, I went for HotPot (A large pot of continuously boiling broth that you place meat and veggies in to cook). It was pretty much an all seafood hotpot. As soon as we sat down, two plates of mantis shrimp, clams, abalone and scallops was placed in front of us, before our hotpot even arrived. Lucky for the bi-vavles, they die upon shucking. However, the mantis shrimp were all still alive. They are phenomenal creatures and kinda helpless out of water. They look nearly identical to a praying mantis, but are not related at all.
It took a good 20-30 minutes for our hotpot to arrive. One of these shrimps kept on flopping off the plate. I almost died. Shortly after the broth came, and the bubbles started to form, I quickly started putting the shrimp in. With some flopping the in the hot broth, while other succumbed much easier, I let out a sigh of relief. I have been to lobster bakes. I know the drill. But I have never seen them struggle so much. But my journey wasn't over, it had just begun.
I was the westerner at the table. It is hospitable to take care of the guest and make sure they are fed well, often times with the biggest and best. When it was time for everyone to start pulling these cooked delicacies out of the pot, I went in and somehow got lucky to get one of the smallest ones! I felt relieved. The mother at the table was not going to have that! She fished out one of the largest shrimps, and placed it in my bowl. Said something in Chinese and took the smaller one away.
I thought, Okay, I can do this. Not so bad. The shrimp was alright. The flavor wasn't what I was expecting and not as strong as traditional shrimp. But as my brother taught me with chicken wings, I left no meat in the shell. Having been to many lobster bakes in college, I was quite good with shellfish.
"Mom" made note of my skill and mentioned to the table how good I was at cleaning my shells, in Chinese (it was translated for me), and passed over another shrimp. Oh boy. I of course ate it graciously, along with all the other organisms.
I know it's not a big deal. But you know, I see a thirsty snail and give it some water. There are things I need to get over. This is just something that is going to take bit more effort. I do enjoy seeing the diversity of species in the fish markets. It really is a very different ecosystem.
I remind myself that I am very lucky to be here... and I was very lucky to be at that table, being welcomed by a family who can't even communicate with me without someone helping. I don't ever forget that. My inner dialogs never stop, though. And I guess they never should.

Photo Credit: Australian Museum

Transport- Square 1

The first few days of settling in were rough. There is no way to describe how dense Hong Kong is. I have been to New York City, London, Beijing, Stockholm, Sydney, Lima, and not to mention living and working in Chicago. I laugh as I type these cities because absolutely nothing compares to this scale of density and size.

When Doug and I arrived at the airport, it was like walking through a mall full of determined holiday shoppers. There was a solid stream of traffic. Doug even tried to walk across the line and it bowed around him, with no drop in speed, as if you placed a brick in a shallow stream. No one stopped, they just... walked around him with no concern. Just like sitting in my car during rush hour traffic, this was something I was going to have to get used to and ignore. Surprisingly, for both Doug and I, sitting in our cars in traffic was the perfect conditioner for acclimating to such public behavior.

We made our way through the airport, to the Airport Express. A magic train that moves faster than superman, with only three stops to get to Hong Kong Island. From there we needed to find the ferry port to take us to the island I would be living on, Cheung Chau. When exiting the Airport Express and as we will soon learn, exiting most train stops, somehow, you end up in a mall. A huge mall. A crazy, huge, complex, stylish, scented air- conditioned, Vegas casino-like mall. Needless to say, after our 15 hour flight and navigating the airport, we were a little flustered trying to get to the ferry. After speaking busted english with a super friendly security guard, we were pointed in the right direction.

As we found the magic exit, I vividly remember the doors opening and feeling the outside air for the first time. Since then, we had been traveling in a massive underground network. We had not been outside or even close to it. It was just about midnight and the humidity in the air was close to visible. There was an instant stickiness to my skin and my clothes felt heavy and wet. There was no relief. We were also carrying all my clothes for the next 6 months. It was rough. We made it just in time to catch the last ferry to Cheung Chau. Easy.

Pulling out of the harbor, we get a better view of the city. As I had mentioned earlier, my dreams were infested with Blade Runner and Fifth Element references, having no idea how accurate they were. The whole city was lit up. There were gigantic barges and ships in the bay, just parked and waiting. We were dwarfed by the freight ships and cranes in the bays. The high-rises grow up the hills behind the city, consuming your space.

It takes at least 30 minutes to clear Hong Kong island. There are small, dark islands with few lights that pop up and disappear. The whole trip from the ferry port to Cheung Chau is about 45- 60 min. We arrived at 1am and my new roommate, Olgierd, was ready to show us to our new home. The ferry lets out right at the heart of the small fishing village. Though most store fronts were closed, there was a couple food stands open and many local fishermen standing around laughing and chatting. To get to the apartment, we have to walk down the main strip- where most of the fronts are seafood restaurants. It smelled faintly of fish, but nothing offensive. You could tell that a few hours earlier this place was busting at the seams.

We walked for 25 minutes, up and down hill, next to the ocean, through some trees and past many staircases. Stray dogs and cockroaches welcomed me on my walk. And though I was sweating more than I ever have, I knew this was the right place for me. Olgierd showed Doug and I to my new home and said farewell for the night. He went to spend the next two weeks with his girlfriend to give Doug and I proper space.

Doug and I fell in love with the place on first sight. It's modest, but spacious in it's own right. There is also a pool, which doesn't hurt. We hurried to find our bathing suites in the clutter that was my frantic packing and went for a peaceful swim with the toads at 3am. I could not have had a better welcome.

*Note: Distance from airport (middle left) to Hong Kong Island, to Cheung Chau (red square)