Changes.....

I have been thinking a lot recently about change, letting go and moving on. Throughout our lives we face many changes. Some of these are happy, some sad, some easy and some difficult. No matter how we feel about change there is always one truth - Change Happens! It happens to all of us and it is the only other certainty of life.


How do we let go and move on after change happens? I have no definitive answer but I do want to tell you a story.......


Once there were two monks traveling through the countryside during the rainy season. Rounding a bend in the path they found a muddy stream blocking their way. Beside it stood a lovely young woman dressed in flowing robes.
"Here" said one of the monks to the woman. "Let me carry you across the water." And he picked her up and carried her across.
Setting her down on the further bank, he went along in silence with his fellow monk to the abbey on the hill.
Later that evening the other monk said suddenly, "I think you made a mistake picking up that woman back on our journey today. You know that we are not supposed to have anything to do with women and you held one close to you! You should not have done that."
"How strange," remarked the other. "I only carried her across the water. You are carrying her still"

Today I was compelled to write this. What a change from a book review!

UEFA Champions League Cup final trip to the bookshop

Wednesday was the UEFA Champion League Cup final day and as you know, I am a BIG Manchester United fan. I have to say I was nervous as a kitten up a tree and that wouldn't be too far off the mark. The time difference between Hong Kong and Europe always means that any given day comes sooner to us here and we have to wait so much longer for a European or US event to happen, or so it seems. I had my Manchester United shirt on 10 hours before kick off and was already pacing the floor in agony. Then I had a thought, "How about a distraction?" What better way to calm the nerves than to spend hours prowling around the shelves of the village bookshop? Off I trotted!



Before you say it, I know I don't need any more books to put on my TBR pile, I really don't. I've been thinking about this a lot and to counteract any criticism in this area I have now invented an ever growing list of 'Books To Look Out For' ('BTLOF'), which is entirely different to TBR and has come about since I started visiting other peoples blogs. Before blogging I would mooch along the shelves of the bookshop without a lot of focus, alighting on books if a cover caught my eye or if I came across anything that was written by an author I liked. Now, when I go shopping for books these days it is not for additions to the TBR pile at all because I have a purpose, I have a BTLOF list which is different and makes me feel much better when handing over the cash!!

Here are my purchases from yesterday:

The Distant Land of My Father, Bo Caldwell.

This is a book about an American girl, Anna, who was born and brought up in China. When the Japanese invade Shanghai during WWII, her father sends Anna and her mother back to California, for their safety. As time passes, the father does not return to his family and Anna gives up hope of ever seeing him again. Then, years later, when she has a family of her own, her father turns up in her life again.
Can't wait to read this, to be honest. It has all the ingredients of my favourite kind of book.



Peter Ustinov, The Gift of Laughter, John Miller.

This is a biography of Peter Ustinov which was written with his absolute collaboration. Ustinov is one of my favourite entertainers and I have heard excellent things about this biography......I'm excited at the prospect of reading it.





Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud, Sun Shuyun.

'Ten Thousand Miles Without a Cloud' is a Buddhist saying which means 'the search for a mind clear of doubt'. This book is a memoir of Sun Shuyun who was born in China during the cultural revolution. Her family were devout Buddhists and under the communist regime were forced to give up practicing their faith. Sun Shuyun learns the way of the communists as she grows up but shares a bedroom with her grandmother. Here she learns Buddhist prayers and listens to stories of historical hero's as her grandmother remained a practicing Buddhist, in spite of being forbidden to do so. Sun's favourite hero becomes Xuanzang. When she is older she decides to retrace the footsteps of his epic journey from China to India and back again, one which he took in order to bring Buddhist scripture and teachings to the Chinese people. Sun's book tells of a spiritual discovery where she finds the faith of her ancestors as she tries to understand what drove Xuanzang on. Another can't wait to read for me!





Five Finger Discount, Helene Stapinski.

I have read this book before and loved it, but somehow it went missing from my library. I probably let somebody borrow it and it never returned. Imagine then, the delight I felt when I saw it there, sitting in the bookshop waiting for me to find it again. Helene Stapinski is a now a journalist and this book is a memoir of her childhood. Her family are a bunch of murderers, crooks, petty swindlers and mobsters and she grows up in New Jersey City. She tells of corrupt local officials and the way her father would smuggle all kinds of wonderfully exotic foods from Cold Storage, where he worked. It is a funny and poignant view of a family surviving against the odds and her struggle to escape an inevitable future. I will read it again and it can now go on my "Read and Loved" shelf.





Bangkok 8, John Burdett.

I am not one for thrillers and cop stories usually, but, the blurb on the back cover of this book had me convinced I would like it, not least of all because it is set in Bangkok, where we lived for three years. I always think that tackling a book set in familiar territory is easier to read and identify with, than one where you have to paint the scenery yourself. I am not sure how I will go on with the violent scenes, I'm usually a bit squeamish, but, I'll give it a go and let you know.





So there you have it, my haul for the day and before you tell me that I did not pick up one single thing off my BTLOF list, I already know, but, in my defense I have to say that I would have added all of them to that list had I thought about it earlier ;)



Now, if only the Manchester United team could have been bothered to turn up for the Cup final I would have had a perfect day!! (You think that comment is bad, the non-reader thinks all the team should be fined a million pounds each for playing so badly!! I wouldn't go that far, but, I see his point!). Terrible game, boo hoo!!




Have you had any bookshop hauls recently?

Travel to India - Part One

OK, so I promised you a review of some of the travel books I have read and here is the first of a comparative review of three books on India. Second and third to follow......

First up, Will Randall's Indian Summer.

This is a memoir written about an adventure Will Randall had during a summer he spent in India. A secondary school teacher in London, Randall takes out his class of thirteen year olds on a field trip to a London Art Gallery, one day and by chance, bumps into a elderly retired school teacher who is a docent at the gallery. They get to chatting and she asks him if he has ever been to India. When he says no she urges him to go and offers to pay for a return ticket for him if he will accompany her on an upcoming trip she is planning. In return for the free ticket he will carry her baggage, accompany her to dinner and be available for any assistance she might require during the journey. He thinks about this for some time and decides to take the chance, so he gives up his job. They head first to Bombay for a few days then onto Pune. After they arrive in Pune she heads off to visit a long time friend and Will is free to return home or stay, as he chooses. He decides to stay for a while.

What ensues is an story of compassion and determination. Randall becomes enchanted with a local ashram which is run by the kindly Chavurat and his wife Harshada and he begins to help them and the children who live there. The ashram acts as home to several adopted orphans and a day school for all comers from the nearby slum. Amongst the children there are many notable characters which Randal describes with great clarity. The ashram and the slum becomes threatened by some local developers who use strong arm tactics to scare the residents in the hope that they will move away, after which the developers plan to clear the land and build an office complex. Eventually the children get an opportunity to showcase the work of the ashram in the hope that it will be saved from demolition. They do this by putting on a play and Randall becomes the producer, director and orchestrates the final performance.

"Learning as much as he is teaching, Will finds his life transformed by this remarkable class of orphans: Dulabesh, the head-standing joker who lost his parents on a crowded railway platform: Prakask, who learned self-sufficiency the hard way by scavenging through skips: the nutty yet charming Tanushri, fan of the singer 'Maradona'. When the slum barons threaten to level the school, Will hits upon the idea of a fund raising play to save it: the 24,000 verse Ramayana, ever so slightly condensed...."

It is a lovely story and the characters are very well drawn. I particularly like the description of an outing Randall arranged for the children as a surprise and the sense of wonder they all felt whilst taking the bus journey. I couldn't help but compare the British children's reaction to the school trip we had previously encountered in London. Of course, these two events are purposely included to draw the reader into making a comparison between 'have's and have not's' and he himself comes to conclusions that are not very flattering about the sense of entitlement the British children demonstrate in their daily life as opposed to that of gratitude in the Indian children's lives.

If there is one negative thing about this book it is that I was left with a sense that Randall (or maybe the marketers of the book) were somewhat conceited and gloated a little too much about the good work he had done with the children. It annoyed me to see the sub title "A Good Man in Asia" and the blurb on the back page which said "Will Randall thought teaching in an inner London comprehensive was a difficult job. But that was nothing compared to his next assignment: saving a slum school in the Indian city of Pune". Saving the school and putting on the play was by no means a solo effort. Even the dedication at the beginning of the book stung me a little "This is a book for anyone who thinks it might be worth adding their drop to the ocean". For me, the story was about children who have to live a challenging life each and every day and survive against all odds and was not about someone who drops into their world for a month or so, thinks that they have fixed everything, basks in glory for a while after which they dash of to another awaiting adventure. It was this lack of modesty that just took the edge off what was otherwise a lovely book.

What do you think, am I being over sensitive about this?

Travel, bearing witness and taking on life's chances.....

Sometimes I cannot believe how blessed I have been in my life to have had so many opportunities to travel and to have witnessed some of the things I have seen.....

Along the way I have been to exotic and ordinary places; cities decimated by the poverty of the ordinary folk and the greed of a powerful government and army. I have looked into the eyes of a dying man as he tapped on the sealed car windows, begging for pennies at the roadside. Within seconds the lights had changed and my car sped off, taking me to sail on a luxury yacht where people were sipping champagne and dipping strawberries in chocolate. I had no appetite, I couldn't forget his eyes. I have seen the most elegantly bejewelled ladies dressed in brocades spun with real gold, standing next to women in rags holding an infant to their breast. I have seen breathtakingly beautiful beaches with palm trees and mountain backdrops, after having to pass by corrugated tin built slums where 12 people live in hovels which they share with cockroaches and rats. I once gave a child an apple, which I thought was better for her than money and I was immediately inundated with starving children saying "Me please, me please please!!", I had no idea where they came from and felt woefully inadequate, unable to offer them a single thing. Sadly, I have spoken to far too many people who were enthralled by the prospect of travel, but, didn't even own a passport, have never left their home state or country in their lifetime and live their dream through others.

And many times I have wondered, "Why them and not me?" It is a question which has kept me awake at night and made me cry myself to sleep. As the years go by I still have no answer, but, know that I am eternally grateful for the life I have had so far and all the chances that I have been given and taken.

One of my son's friends got me thinking about all this today (thank you, young man xx). He recently gave up his regular job after university term ended and took a very brave step by travelling to Hawaii alone, for the summer. He knew no one and did not have a job, but took the chance anyway. He wrote to his friends recently and tried to explain the reason behind the decision to make such a bold move, he did this by quoting an email he had received from his dad. He then urged all his friends to think about what he had said. Here it the note to his friends:

This is an email my Dad sent me, and I thought I'd share it as insight to the reason why I decided to take this trip. With two weeks under my belt, the gravity of the situation has hit me, but I thought about the locals I play basketball with every night, the people at my new job, and of course my amazing sister and all of her amazing friends, and I realize that I've made this place my own. So without further ado:

"Co-worker just left so I thought I might send you a quick note. Every day at work, and I mean each and every day, several people come up to me and ask me a lot of questions all about your latest island adventures. They hang on my every word and I am always the first to break it off or I would never get my work done. At first I wondered why they were so interested, as you know I do not like to talk a lot, but they were intent to squeeze every detail out of me. It finally occurred to me that you are living the dream they had, but were not bold enough to embrace. I am so proud of you as not many people have the courage to travel 4,000 miles away, to a new land, where they don't know a soul. I am finding out that many people spend the rest of their lives wishing that they had taken on the type of adventure that you are living. I guarantee you that things will not always go well in your life but remember that "Living well is the best revenge" and Hawaii living is the best.You will look back on your island adventure with relish, just like I do, and you will never have to know the misery of those poor timid souls, who approach me every day and spend the rest of their life wishing........................... "If only I had"..."

It just blew me away! Not only the letter from a father to a son, but, the fact that the son urged his friends to read it. An action, in and of itself, meant to encourage them to look carefully at life's chances and live a dream should chance come along. He is a brave and wise young man and has a great mentor in his dad. I am so glad he is a friend of my son's.

And, if there is an answer for the question "Why them and not me?" perhaps it lies somewhere in this letter.

My next post will be about some excellent travel books I have read, but, that's tomorrow.........today I'm still thinking of taking life's chances.

Rebecca and a Friend of a Friend........

I think I am the only person in the world who has not read any of Daphne du Maurier's work, especially the classic novel Rebecca. It has to be admitted that I have reached this age and not looked at one line of her writing - not until now, that is! Thanks to fellow bloggers ( Dot especially:) I spent all this weekend reading Rebecca and it was every bit as good as every fan had promised it would be.



Other than the thrilling storyline, the most interesting thing about this book for me is the fact that when it was first published, in 1938, it was billed as a 'True Romance' and a kind of 1930's equivalent of today's chick-lit. Daphne du Maurier hated the book being categorised in this genre and after reading it I can understand why. Even Alfred Hitchcock's film adaptation (which I watched on YouTube after reading the book - yes, I became obsessed!!) had that true romance undertone to it and although the film painted some excellent character portraits and focused on the insecurities, insanity and broodiness of some of the main cast, I do not believe it truly captured the heart of what du Maurier was trying to say in the book.



Max de Winter is a recently widowed man whose wife, Rebecca, has been killed at sea. He takes a holiday from his stately home on the coast, Manderley, because he is on the verge of a breakdown and needs to get out of the house as it holds so many memories of Rebecca. The house is famous throughout the county for it's parties and is know for it's style and elegance, which is due mainly to the work of Rebecca, who by all accounts, was the perfect hostess, wife, mistress of the house, employer and socialiser. Max heads to Monte Carlo where he meets a young girl half his age, sweeps her off her feet and marries her, all within a few weeks. They return to Manderley and the new Mrs de Winter finds herself mistress of an enormous staff and home and caught up in a world she knows very little about, completely out of her depth. The new Mrs de Winter appears to be the absolute opposite of Rebecca in every way, shy, awkward, clumsy, timid and eager to please.



Mrs Danver's is the housekeeper and was Rebecca's maid and closest confident, Frank Crawley is Max de Winter's secretary. Both characters play key roles in Mrs de Winter's life during her first few weeks at Manderley. Needless to say, Mrs Danver's loyalty remains staunchly with Rebecca and to the past so she is not a friend of Mrs de Winter and as Frank is devoted to Max, he becomes an ally and friend of the new mistress of the house.


The story takes various twists and turns and it illustrates how inexperienced, inept at being mistress of the house and totally reliant on male affirmation, the young Mrs de Winter is. She is not given a christian name in the book and is only ever referred to as Mrs de Winter or Madame throughout, therefore, her identity is tied exclusively to her husband's name and not her own. (Not a lot of Girl-Power there, I here you say!)








*****This is where you should stop reading if you have not read the book and don't want to know any more of the plot (Scroll down to next line of bold print to continue...... and no peeking on the way!!)*****




After the shocking truth of the real events on the evening of Rebecca's disappearance are uncovered, I began to realise that the hero and heroine of the story were actually a murderer and later an accessory to the fact! Throughout the clever narrative, du Maurier's ability to bring the reader along with these two dubious characters and have said reader sympathise with their situation, was nothing short of genius. I was with them all the way, willing them on through the tribunal and the visit to London, hoping against hope for a positive outcome for them both, that is to say, I was hoping that they would get away with murder or that it was all just a horrible mistake and Rebecca hadn't been murdered at all!! I couldn't bear to think that I was on the murderer's side in this story and not the victim's. Then I stopped and said to myself "What am I thinking?"!!

I re-read the beginning of the book after I had finished the end as the first and some of the second chapters talk about Mr and Mrs de Winter's life in the present, which is set several years after Rebecca's death and the time the rest of the story focuses on. I was shocked when I realised that the biggest crime of all was actually being committed there, right there in the present at the beginning of the book and I had no idea of that when I first read it.

****You can rejoin the post now - I hope you didn't peep at the last two paragraphs****

Brilliant writing! It was no more a chick-lit book than Lord of The Rings!


Tell me what you think of Rebecca - I adored it and will be on the look out for anything du Maurier - do you have any suggestions of what I should read of hers next?


Speaking of women and Girl-Power (which I was actually, if you include Mrs de Winter, Mrs Danvers and Rebecca) I met a really nice lady on Monday who I hadn't met before. Several years ago I lived in Singapore and became friends with a lovely fellow Brit there who had three sons around the same age as mine. We met at picnics and social events, we chilled out on the beach and at outings and got together on committees to organise this and that. Over the years we became close and had a lot in common, which included the love of fine wine and laughing at life in general. Then one day she headed back to Canada whilst I remained in Singapore. Shortly afterwards we lost touch and I often wondered what had happened to her.


Then one day, a year or so ago, I got a friend request on Facebook and it was her. Since then we have shared each others family photos, commented on life's little nuances and generally continued to laugh together. A few weeks ago she dropped me a note which introduced me to another friend of hers in Canada, also a fellow Brit, who was on her way, for the first time, to holiday in Hong Kong. We two became friends on Facebook and before we knew it, we were planning to get together on Monday for a mooch around in Honkers - I am so glad we did! We had a wonderful time chatting and telling each other about our life and family. It was as if we had known each other for years and when I left her it struck me just how small this world really is.


I know we will stay in touch and now I have another friend who is a friend of a friend of mine - that really is Girl-Power at work!

Gilead ............ at last!

I'm back reviewing books again as my mother-in-law has returned home safely after spending a couple of weeks with us here.

I have been reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson for the past couple of weeks and was determined to finish it today, no matter how much housework had to go undone.........;)

The Reverend John Ames is suffering with a heart condition and coming to the end of his life. Through a series of letters written to his 7 year old son, he reveals his thoughts, musing and observations, and slowly but surely, paints a colourful and unique picture of himself, his father, his grandfather, his best friend, his wife and also his young son and all the various family members connected with them throughout the late 19th and first half of the 20th century. At the same time an intriguing landscape of war-torn, small town USA rises from the stories over the years as the characters unfold. The aim of writing this account is to offer advice in matters that a father would guide a son through and to help the boy better understand his heritage and ultimately, the man John Ames was. This is particularly important as the reverend knows he will not be around for the child when he gets old enough to ask questions first hand.

Ames best friend, Boughton, has eight children and one in particular, Jack, is the son who is both his father's favourite and John Ames's godson. He is named after the reverend as John Ames Broughton and is the prodigal son in every way. His return to Gilead during the story, causes grave concerns and misgivings for Ames and great joy to Boughton Snr., who is also very elderly and in ill health himself. As the relationship between Ames and Jack unravels, the true purpose of Jack's visit becomes apparent, after all.

The reverend is very devout and there are lots of religious references and quotations as well as political and philosophical debates in the text, but, none of this detracts from the story. Nor does the content come across as closet-preaching in anyway, it is all very much part of the portrait being painted.

Gilead is a truly skillful piece of writing. The various stories, the plot and all the connections between the characters only come to light at the slow pace the reverend allows them to appear. This is so masterfully done that by the end of the book I could really feel the weight on the Reverend's shoulders as he labours through his days with a failing heart. It is a book which asks difficult questions and is filled with flawed characters who take actions and make mistakes in their lives that are difficult to forgive. It is poignant and heartbreakingly sad in parts and I loved Jack from the moment he entered the story.

The book demands patience and attention, but, is well worth the effort of giving both. Let me know if you have read it and what you think.

Stanley, Peng Chau and more HUGE desserts!!

Grandma letting us see that she has changed her clothes since the last lot of photos, just in case you thought otherwise.....

And so, to Stanley (in another different outfit!).........

Lovely day, very warm...........

Stanley Main Street...........

Messing about on the South China Sea............

Stopped for prawns at The Pickled Pelican......with a view..........

View of St Stephen's beach...........

These waterlillies are real...........

And so to the Military Cemetery

Hong Kong was unexpectedly invaded from the north and Allied Forces, local troops, police and volunteers were pinned back against the sea........

691 are buried in this cemetery - all casualties of the fight against Japanese invasion or subsequently as prisoners of war........

The last stand against Japanese invasion happened in Stanley village and Allied Forces, local police, local troops and many volunteer fighters finally surrendered on Christmas Day 1941. 4,500 people lost their lives in Hong Kong either in the fight against invasion or as a result of being interned........

One of the saddest gravestones in the cemetery...........Mary Willianson died in Stanley Internment Camp in 1942 aged 75 and her grandson, Douglas Harvey Collins-Taylor was killed in action in Stanley Village on Christmas Day 1941, aged 20 years........Lest We Forget..........

And, on our way back this lovely garden cheered us up again. Could do with a sit down, it's very hot...........

Sunset at Stanley...........

Time for a Sundowner......

Another day and Peng Chau at the Golden Flower temple.......

Shrine for incense................

Turtles live at the bottom of this well.............

Lovely dragon column..........

And off to Discovery Bay for another treat............

Good bye to Peng Chau for today........

Another day and Pavlova in Kowloon......... after a lucky escape at the Jade Market........

Where has all the time gone????.........

Lazy Sunday's and off to The Peak

Sunday Afternoon in Cheung Sha...

View of the beach.....

Dragon Boat practice....

Monday, off to hong Kong Island - Pok Fu Lam...

Looking at Kowloon.....

Hong Kong Tourist Bus stuck in traffic.....

One for our Shelly!

View from Mid-Levels Escalator....

Let's peep into the Mosque.....

South of Hong Kong - view from The Peak....

Competitors for the upcoming South Asia Games......

Victoria Harbour from The Peak....

Back down to earth on The Peak Tram....

Star Ferry Pier, Central Hong Kong....

Lights of the big city - Central Hong Kong.....

And back on the ferry - good bye to Hong Kong for today......


Time for Hot Chocolate!!

Discovery Bay and HUGE desserts

So we ended Thursday with Quiz Night at The Bear! Quiz Night with a view!





Friday we set off for Discovery Bay and a little meander about......

First panoramic view...

And here is mum's new boat in the background....

And, of course we had to have lunch, much to the dismay of the little girl we are clearly keeping up!

This is not my dessert, I can promise you (although I did have a spoonful or two!!)

The Bounty at Discovery Bay...

On the ferry back home...

Saturday, out for another stroll and of course we came upon some lovely prawns (which I had to shell).

Lunch with a view, The China Beach Club.