Out of the rain

We got the best welcome back to Paris today.

Sunshine.

Of our 96 hours in Rome, it rained about 93 hours. We arrived when it started to rain. It rained while we enthusiastically ventured out to all the famous landmarks and it rained while we slept. It rained while we drank our cappuccinos and ate our cornetti and it definitely rained while we were pizzaria hopping.

It stopped raining while we lined up for the security check to go into St. Peter’s Basilica but surely enough, when we exited the magnificent church, it rained once again.

The rain didn’t manage to dampen our spirits but it definitely dampened our ill-prepared feet.
It rained so much that the river rose about 14 meters above normal and made the evening news. We were thankful to see Rome and spend it with our friend, but damn, there was just so much rain!

We’re happy to be back in Paris, with sunshine and not a cloud in the sky. At least not today.

 

 

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Old friends, new places and egg tarts

As I’m slowly settling into HK life, my time in France feels like many lives ago.

I re-read some of my old posts and stumbled across Old friends, new places and a tarte. I wrote it about a year ago about when I met up with my friends Adam and Melissa in the twin towns of Fréjus and St. Raphaël in the Côte d’Azur.

Being in a completely new place, away from the familiar, there are few things better than meeting up with friends. Being able to recount old times and laugh with people you know when you’re away from home is precious. Though I am not alone in living abroad this time, it still doesn’t change the reality that I am enormously far away from home. Even with Bruce, I do get homesick.

When my dearest and oldest friend Tashane told me that she had booked tickets to come to Hong Kong with her boyfriend for a couple of days, it was a surreal moment. She’s been teaching in Korea for a while now and between all my traveling the past couple of years,  I haven’t seen this girl in 3 years.

Postcard perfect

The view from our balcony is the best part of our new apartment. Past the heavy sliding glass doors of our modest place is an incredible snapshot of water, mountain and a view of the skyscrapers of Eastern Hong Kong Island.

The channel is Lei Yue Mun, and on the Kowloon side, it is known for its fishing villages and abundance of seafood restaurants.

Our balcony is shared with the apartment next to us, where Bruce’s 92 year-old aunt resides with the live-in maid. We’re fortunate to have them offer us our own apartment just next door. Depending on where we find work, the living situation may change.

But for now, this is ours to enjoy.

Relocating

In a few hours, we will be finally be boarding our plane to Hong Kong.

I’ve gotten much better at packing, taking lots of notes from packing for France last year, but the emotions remain the same.

I’m excited and nervous, but the prevailing emotion is anxiety. I am incredibly lucky to be going with the love of my life, though the anxiety is still shared between us. I have never been to Hong Kong outside of its airport, often en-route to Vietnam.

After my year in the kitchens of France, I have a much better understanding of where I am in terms with my practical pastry skills and where I would like them to be. My craft alone is where all my interests lie and I am going to make the most of our time there.

I have no expectation for the city, though I have a lot for myself.

Katz’s Deli, New York

I am currently in New York city with Bruce, eating and having a great time. Originally, I wanted to wait until after our trip to start posting. However, I am quickly learning that there would be too much to post if I wait. New York truly is a food-lover’s dream come true.

We arrived in Brooklyn around midnight this past Thursday. For Friday lunch, as our first eating-out meal, Bruce really wanted for us to go to the famous Katz’s Deli in Manhattan.

I’ve never imagined that I would dedicate an entire post to a deli. Then again, this is no ordinary deli.

Mammi et Pappy

I absolutely love Aurelie’s grandparents. They are what I always imagined European grandparents to be: gentle, kind and so so very generous.

They live in a house built from their very own hands, and their garden is a utopia in the summertime. Last year, after leaving my very first lunch at their place, I left with enough produce for a week. They shoved carrots, potatoes, tomatoes and fluttery heads of lettuce into my hands, after just plucking them from the ground.

Mammi, as Aurelie affectionately calls her grandmother, is an excellent cook. She lives to feed her family, and you can taste it in her food. Pappy is full of stories and his eyes light up when he reenacts fond memories.

Eating is an extravagant affair at their place, and I always leave feeling a bit less graceful each time, barely able to waddle down their flower entwined porch.

I am a veteran, having eaten at her grandparent’s several times already. Today was Bruce’s first time. I gave him some advice before we drove off to Firminy, to see mammi et pappy.