Rockstar starts school a week late, is delighted to be back (kudos to the school, my child with the elephant memory for forming lasting dislikes and taking things wayyy too seriously has been asking when he gets to go back to school despite an exciting 3 weeks in San Francisco – he is 3, so I count this more important than say, where he ranks in class. If a ranking existed. Um, it doesn’t, right?)
One small step: I call this the “NASA shot” – cue fanfare and Hollywood astronauts walking, in slow motion, to the space shuttle as they embark on a great adventure
(This is Rockstar actually keen on going to school. Same difference to me.)
Except when we get in I look around at all the other kids and realize I was supposed to schlep back to the school uniform store for winterwear.
First child, first winter back to school. It hadn’t occurred to me there would be that much “standard issue winterwear” – coat/ windbreaker, fleece vest, winter-weight sweaters and pants. (I was thinking everyone just wears their uniform over layered clothing and puts on their own jackets for outdoor playtime. Maybe just an extra standard issue school coat that’s optional.) There’s also very lightweight cotton shirts that are for the hottest months.
So for the next few days til I could find my way to Aston Wilson in Jordan, Rockstar went to school in (what the nice store staff will explain is) the standard issue autumn/”general weatherwear” of cotton long sleeved shirts, long pants, and his Paul & Shark windbreaker (which coincidentally is in the same-ish school navy so it’s not immediately noticeable I am Mum Who Hasn’t Bought Her Son’s School Winterwear Yet.)
I love Pacific Place. The Admiralty MTR is there, it’s a short 2 MTR stops to Jordan and a short walk to the school uniform store, instead of some much more complicated navigation by car or cab (no whopping fare either). The supermarket is great. The park is nearby. And since I spent significant chunks of my consciousness looking for quiet comfy spots to decompress at lunch hour, I love this place. I might have said that already.
I just miss the train. When I get to the empty platform, there’s a woman standing right in front of the train doors. She has on a very soft-looking grey fur, wound round her neck, and there’s also a generous rich brown glossy fur trim on her camel-colored coat.
I don’t wear real fur. I wear leather because you eat the cow, and I suppose you eat some of the animals whose fur you wear but somehow I just don’t wear it. The only time I tried to buy faux fur years ago in Hong Kong shortly after coming here, I got “Rab-bit,” enunciated carefully. (I know. You can eat rabbit. But I used to have a rabbit. Her name was Honey Bunny. I was 9.)
“We don’t have any fake fur. I don’t think it’s very easy to find, at least not of reasonable quality.” Another salesgirl laughs, not unkindly, “The good quality fake fur probably costs more than if you bought the real stuff.” I must have come across foreign and a little weird.
Woman In Two Kinds Of (I Suppose) Real Fur has taken out some moisturizer. Not the usual drug store stuff in the plastic tube, it looks like something from L’Occitane. My hands are perpetually dry-skinned, and un-manicured so I’m interested when people take care of their hands (but always end up bumming Rockstar’s Mustella, a habit formed from when I gave up the perfumed grownup stuff after he was born). The train moves, she drops the tube top – and squats on the floor to pick it up. I start, and then get embarrassed and try to recover. She’s in classic potty position.
Off the train, and why does it say “for tourists only?” in green?
Ta-daa got here – this time without the help of the friendly neighborhood 7-11. Achievement of the day. So pleased with myself.
The lady behind the counter cheerfully spreads out all the gear for me to choose from:
Sweater (My favourite, but I note in dismay it has a crew neck. Rockstar is all head.)
Winter pants (Don’t they look just like the “general weather wear”? Another mum chips in that they’re thicker. I still don’t see it. So they show me the ankles – very tapered for the coldest days outdoors. Ah. Buy 2 pairs.)
Fleece Vest (Fugly, Forget it.)
Coat/ Windbreaker (Not bad)
Uh… wasn’t there more to choose from? Or were some styles discontinued, I don’t see the navy jacket I noticed quite a few kids on Rockstar’s floor wearing?
Wordlessly, the staff unzip the windbreaker. The lining? They’re all wearing the windbreaker lining? The staff grin.
I buy 2 windbreakers. And 2 pairs of winter pants, all in over HKD 650 I think. I’m distracted because the other mum is saying goodbye. And she came in after me. And I do not move slowly, ok.
How did she have time to chat with me and still finish so quickly? She’d printed out the list and marked down what she wanted. Then exited with the bag in around 5 minutes. And no, she didn’t buy the items before, she’d come over to check out the little pile I was going over, while someone was getting her items.
Then back to Pacific Place, I have 90 minutes to grocery shop and read before our Friend Who Drives Our Car By Way Of Cushy Odd Job Til His Business Takes Off drops Rockstar off and we share a pizza at Great Cafe.
In Seibu, I snap this pic. It is up here because a security guard immediately stopped me quite loudly and I would like to know why I’m not allowed to take this pic of Rockstar and the Pandora poster. It’s not one of those window displays they pay designers to make up (I can understand if they don’t want people to copy the store decor) so what gives? Isn’t this a standard ad you can find in magazines or brochures??
(And btw, I buy Pandora. I have the US edition and the HK edition of their catalogue. Which is why Rockstar is looking at this, he picked out some of the charms on my bracelet.)
Then it’s a walk in Hong Kong Park.
Rockstar overcame his fear of Big Scary Fountain sometime back… Now every time we come here we have get a little wet stepping behind that sheet of water… There’s a big rock cave behind a waterfall we have to “do” too…
So convenient – you can buy Pad Thai, Sushi, Mushroom Tortellini, A Greek Salad or more from Great supermarket in PP, or Simply Life breads, fresh carrot juice and fruit salad, Starbucks or Pacific Coffee molten chocolate cake… and then carry it all to a bench – if your rockstar’ll let you sit in peace, of course.
Surrounded by all the office buildings and near so many banks, Rockstar lunches or coffees with his dad here. The cleaning lady at nearby Citibank Tower told us many mums hang out here so the dad can spend a quick one with their kids, or else helpers bring the kids here to meet working mums… But then she launched into a comparison of Where Rockstar Measures Up Developmentally vs Other Kids Here (uh, not in Rockstar’s favor) and I quickly change the subject. But not before Rockstar got annoyed and wanted her to go away.
(Don’t try to feed the fish or birds though – the park wardens’ll stop you real quick – note the tiny figure in navy jacket with bold white stripes. Good thing is they’re quite quick to stop little kids climbing up the rocks near the pool too)
I used to hang out here and read… I love how there are all these glass and steel high-rises flanking the park… But this is the first time I see at least half a dozen screechy wild cockatoos flapping between the trees.
Nearby, power-suited professionals charge about, almost mingling with the mum with babies (and helpers) and strollers. Also, grandparents. I used to be one of the suits, now I’m one of the mums.
Not the same difference.
