Cierpliwość

Patience. I suck at patience. I’ve never not sucked at patience. There have been a few points in my life, where I put a lot of time in, and I sort of started to get good at acting patient, but deep down I was still silently willing everything to hurry up, everyone to get out of my way, and to have it all happen according to my schedule. Where is this utopian reality that cares only for my needs? It certainly ain’t in Asia.

I’ve always known this about myself, but I’ve never had to confront it in such a blatant way before; I don’t like people. Face to face, one on one, a human being is a delightful thing, complex and full of insights and surprises. Start adding one or two more people into the mix, then egos and personal agendas can begin to cloud up the landscape of lovely and bring the storms and dog pooh streaked sidewalks. Enter into the masses, and we just turn into straight up donkeys, trampling each other, thinking small, and only looking out for ourselves. I’m guilty. I am not above it. The only way I can get back to feigning patience is to find some space and think long and hard about my donkey ways. Where do you find space in a city so packed that it’s considered the most vertical city in the world because there’s no space left on the ground? My recommendation is to go hang out in a graveyard.

I was walking around today, pushing, shoving, rolling my eyes, and actually saying out loud, Oh my god when people got in my way (my way), when I realized that I probably should cease and desist on my mission to trudge down every street in Hong Kong. Yesterday I found this amazing graveyard built on a hillside, near the water, and jammed up next to a whole mess of high rises. In a city where you can’t move an inch without bumping into someone, this place was completely deserted. Once I realized I needed some relief or I might do something that would get me deported, it was the first place I thought of.

I picked up two beers, a couple of cheeseburgers, and set myself up on the tallest hill. There are memorials with stone tables and benches, I sat and said hello to the folks who were hosting me. I bet they enjoyed the company. Yesterday there was a pack of five black dogs that retreated when they saw me, but watched me carefully as I walked through the graves. They had left me with this incredibly spooky feeling, like I was in an Anne Rice novel. I kept hoping they’d show up again, and bring their vampire friends. They just drink blood, so I wouldn’t have to share my beer or cheeseburgers. Nothing and no one, dogs or otherwise, manifested. I spent the evening in solitude, watching ships sail on the harbor, bugs scuttling by me feet, and the shadows of people as they passed in front of their curtains, on the way from the couch to the refrigerator to refill their iced tea. It was wonderful.