Monthly Archives: December 2024

Kennedy Town, popping boba, and fireworks from our hotel room

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It was the last day of 2024 today. We spent most of it exploring Kennedy Town, a neighborhood on Hong Kong Island that has been redefined in the last 10+ years. For the longest time, urban development was slow in this area until 2014, when Hong Kong’s incredible MTR extended out that way. Now, it’s gentrifying quite a bit, with endless luxury high rises going up, as well as trendy bars and coffee/tea shops.

We enjoyed coffee and a waffle at a cute little coffee shop called For Single. There, I had a flat white made with coffee beans from Yunnan province (I didn’t realize coffee was grown in China!). For the first time, Chris had siphon coffee, which is supposed to enhance the coffee aroma more. Watching our barista make his coffee with the siphons was really fun for the first time, as it was like watching a chemistry experiment in action. Although I doubt either of us would be interested in purchasing siphons to make siphon coffee at home, it was an experience watching it made for us, and the coffee itself did seem different than coffee made out of a Chemex or Aeropress.

We found a slightly off the beaten path swimming shed called Sai Wan, where you descend down several flights of stairs into a “swimming shed” that is essentially the open water. This was a good place to see some nice views of Hong Kong, and also helped me learn a bit of history: I didn’t realize “swimming sheds” were a thing in Hong Kong. They were built in the early 20th century by the Hong Kong government, providing changing rooms, showers, and piers for swimmers. The entry fees were cheap, and with cheap leased swimming suits, people started coming to swim in droves. Unfortunately, the water pollution in the harbor gradually got worse, so the popularity of swimming sheds in Hong Kong started dwindling. Today, Sai Wan Swimming Shed is the lone, single shed still standing in Hong Kong. From what I could see, most of its members seem to be older women.

We also hiked up Mount Davis for some views… which were mostly blocked off due to weeds and trees, but it was good to get the exercise anyway. Chris pushed Kaia up via the stroller, but coming down, we tried our best to get her to walk down a LOT of stairs. She had to be cajoled quite a bit and promised treats, as she kept on insisting, “I’m too small! This is too far for meeeee!” There were only about two public toilets along our hike, and Kaia never had to go…. until she decided she had to go where there were none to be found. I had to coax her to squat and pee by a bush, which she finally did because she was so desperate. Unfortunately, she wasn’t positioned properly, and she ended up getting some pee on the bottom of one of her shoes. Good thing we had alcohol wipes to clean that off!

Later on in the day, we had some claypot rice for lunch, then stopped at a dessert spot called Sweet Dreamer Dessert (or Sweet DD), where we enjoyed a decadent pistachio lava mini cake with ice cream, as well as peach flavored popping boba for the first time (which we didn’t realize would have popping boba in it; we just thought it would be a peach juice flavored drink!). Kaia was completely obsessed with the popping boba and even preferred it to her much loved ice cream. All she wanted to do was hold the boba in her hands, place them one by one in her mouth, and feel them explode in her mouth! I’ll be honest even if it makes me sound old: while it was fun to try out something new and trendy like popping boba, I will admit I probably would not order it again knowingly and far prefer regular tapioca boba.

Kaia also got lucky, as at Belcher Bay, we stumbled upon a big children-centered fair. They had several massive foam (or fake snow) machines that she was squealing nonstop about. The theme of the fair was very cutesy Chinese: “Saying Love in the Snowfall.” There was also a hilarious snowball throwing contest between two teams. Chris noted how clean and thorough the workers were between the fights starting and ending: every last smidgen of snow and ice was cleaned up to the point of being anal — I love Asian cleanliness!

We ended the evening with dinner in Central, where we ate at Little Bao, a fusion restaurant that a friend of mine had recommended. Kaia indulged in a bowl of Shaoxing wine and butter clams, while we had fancy versions of fried dumplings, “filet o fish,” and very strong cocktails.

While we were here for New Year’s in 2016, I was still recovering from pertussis, and so we didn’t actually stay out late that night to see the fireworks. I suppose we made up for it this time, though as parents of young children: Chris ensured we had a harbour-view room on a high floor (floor 37) that would allow us to see the entire fireworks display on the harbour from our room. We watched and recorded the full 12-minute fireworks show in our pajamas from our hotel window (with me sitting on Kaia’s roll-out bed closest to the window while she was fast asleep). It was quite spectacular, with fireworks on all sides, and lots of different types of firework artistry that I hadn’t seen before. You could say it was the lazy man’s way of watching the fireworks — to do it from bed and then immediately go to sleep after. Or, you could also argue that this is what people who are lucky to have means do: we can afford a room with a view like this at this time of year, so why not take advantage of it, especially since we have a young child who cannot yet appreciate things like staying up late to ring in the new year, or a fireworks show? This was a far more comfortable way to watch the fireworks for all of us given Kaia’s age, plus who wants to be standing around outside in the semi-cold for hours on end?

It was a fun and memorable way to usher in 2025; it’s a good thing I have a husband who plans this stuff out in advance and thinks of all this because I had no idea we were guaranteed a harbour-view room until we got here!

Hong Kong public restrooms circa 2024; ordering dim sum while comparing the Chinese menu vs. English menu

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While exploring the Yau Ma Tei Wholesale Fruit Market this morning over on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, I was intrigued by the fresh cherimoyas and ripe hachiya persimmons. I haggled my way into a small discount with two hachiyas. Unfortunately, I was unsure which of the cherimoyas were ripe and ready enough to eat, so I hesitated on those and ended up not buying any, which was a shame given that I cannot even remember the last time I got to enjoy that custardy, sweet fruit. Kaia said she had to go pee, and when I asked the workers where the closest restroom was since my daughter had to pee, a fruit manager took pity on us and offered their toilet in the back for her to use.

“The closest public one is too far away!” the fruit worker insisted. “She’s too young to wait!” I always love how Asian ladies dote on littles so much.

Unfortunately, their toilet was…. not particularly the cleanest one we’d ever encountered. It smelled as though it hadn’t been properly cleaned in years. There wasn’t any soap in the bathroom, so I had to use hand sanitizer on both of us. Within a few blocks, Kaia said she had to pee yet again, and so I begrudgingly took her to the public restroom right there, completely not expecting the experience we would have.

As soon as I entered, I saw a worker wiping down surfaces with sanitizing spray. Beside her was a mop, which she was using to clean the floors. The entire bathroom smelled like jasmine flowers. Each of the stalls had a clean toilet, a clean seat down with a lid, as well as ample toilet paper. Next to the toilet paper dispenser was a little motion-activated machine to allow you to use some toilet paper to spray a disinfectant spray onto the toilet seat before using. In English and Chinese on the inside of each stall, a sign explained that to ensure the highest levels of hygiene to please close the toilet lid before flushing. I was so surprised and excited to see this; the toilet lids being closed while flushing has been noted in lots of hygiene-related studies and news articles as the number one way to increase cleanliness in bathrooms and to prevent the (airborne) spread of fecal matter, which tends to be all over your bathroom whether you are aware of it or not (unfortunately, this is impossible in U.S. public restrooms, as virtually NO public toilets will have a lid. It’s actually disturbing to me how prevalent that is and how no one seems to [know to] care about it). The sinks were wiped clean of even the smallest water drops. The soap dispensers were all motion activated and filled to the brim. There was the option of a hand dryer or paper towels (much to Kaia’s excitement since she’s completely terrified of hand dryers).

I just couldn’t believe how clean this public restroom was — literally every single part of it. And there was an attendant parked there to clean every centimeter of that place. And that restroom was not the exception here — this was how every public restroom we entered was. Contrary to how I feel when using public restrooms in the U.S., I actually never dreaded using a public toilet here in Hong Kong and instead, found it quite fun to see exactly how sanitized and clean all of them were. Hong Kong’s public toilets should be a model for the rest of the world!

Later on, we chose a slightly upscale dim sum house for lunch. I was excited for the opportunity to enjoy a proper yum cha experience in Hong Kong… and was quickly confused when I was handed the (Chinese) dim sum ordering menu to check off which items I wanted and realized I couldn’t read or recognize most of the dishes listed. I know how to read pretty much every semi-common, popular dim sum dish, in both Cantonese and Mandarin. I didn’t understand why things read so differently on this menu. I started using Google Lens to help me translate some of the dishes, but frankly, it wasn’t much help. The biggest issue when reading Chinese menus, as I’ve tried to explain to Chris and multiple others who don’t read or speak any Chinese, is that a lot of food dishes in China have very idiomatic naming conventions and have no real meaning within themselves at all. The dishes are very rarely as straight forward as Western menus are with their descriptions or names. So unless you are familiar with old Chinese texts that make these historical references or “nicknames”/shortened names for foods, you will have no idea what dish you are actually looking at.

Here’s an example of language/cultural nuances from my childhood of a common dish we had on our table at restaurants, especially for the kids, also a dish I crave every now and then: gan chao niu he 干炒牛河 (beef chow fun). The characters literally say “dry fry beef river.” But if you know the language and what’s being shortened, you’ll know right away that what it’s really saying is 干炒牛河 [粉] or gan chao niu he fen –– dry fried beef with flat rice noodles (NOT saucy or with gravy is the meaning of “dry.” 河粉 Or “he fen” / “ho fun” is the name of the long, flat, wide, rice noodles. And if you don’t know the language or food, you’ll just sit there feeling puzzled, not understanding what the heck a “beef river” is.

I sat there, as Chris says, looking like I was studying for an exam while going over that freaking Chinese menu. It took me a while to make my selections. He was getting antsy with me because he was quite hungry, and he could see the dishes were clearly being made to order and were taking a while to come out to other tables. Here’s one dish we ordered which I took a chance on and ended up really enjoying, but it literally meant nothing to me other than three characters (dou miao and egg) when I ordered it: 金銀蛋浸豆苗 jin yin dan jin dou miao or literally, “gold silver egg dipped dou miao/pea shoots.” I didn’t know what all those characters meant together, but I did know that there would be dou miao/pea shoots in it, as well as egg, so I just checked it off. If you read that translated word for word, what would you think it meant? And what came to our table but a large bowl of clear soup with floating egg drop wisps, a generous pile of pea shoots, and thick slices of pi dan/century egg. It was a deeply flavorful, savory broth that we all enjoyed (and Kaia devoured), but it was confusing because I genuinely wasn’t sure how gold silver egg dipped pea shoots translated into a SOUP? I would love for someone to explain this to very Americanized/Westernized me.

So we got a bit of a hodge podge of dim sum because a lot of these things just are not typically on standard dim sum menus in Chinese yum cha houses in the U.S.: the pea shoot and century egg/egg drop soup; fried sesame balls with a light mung bean filling; chee cheong fen (HK style, no fillings other than sauce); fried silken tofu with a slightly peppery coating; shui jiao (fried glutinous rice dumplings with pork, mushrooms, and jicama; mango pudding. Chris wasn’t super satisfied, so I figured now was the time to relent and ask for the English menu. I took the English menu and compared it against the Chinese menu, and there were maybe only two or three things that had crossover; the English menu had all the standard things you’d expect, like ha gao, siu mai, nor mai fan, etc., yet NONE WERE ON THE CHINESE MENU. I was even more confused at this point (and I asked the server if we could add black bean sauce steamed spare ribs, off the English/Chinese menu, to “complete” our meal and make sure Chris didn’t feel jipped of his first Hong Kong yum cha experience this trip). This led me to believe one of two things:

  1. Locals who just know will order the dishes that we in the West consider “standard dim sum” dishes off menu, so there’s nothing for them to check off on the ordering card; it’s simply understood by the server and by the kitchen that they will churn out these dishes, or
  2. The restaurant doesn’t make what we consider “standard dim sum” dishes for locals and makes them only for overseas Chinese/Asians who have come to expect certain dishes to be “authentic” Chinese yum cha dishes.
  3. Or, maybe a combination of 1 and 2…?!

I don’t know. This kind of felt like discrimination or gas-lighting to me!

Back to Hong Kong on the glorious Cathay Pacific

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Flying Cathay Pacific is one of the greatest flight experiences. But to be fair, service on even budget Asian airlines is always top notch. When I’m flying on an Asian carrier, it always makes me think how extremely basic to nearly nonexistent “service” is on U.S.-based carriers. On Cathay, I am always greeted by name, or “Ms. Wong.” It seems like such a little thing, but it always feels so formal and welcoming. Occasionally on American Airlines, they greet me this way when acknowledging my status, but that is a rare occasion. If I have pre-ordered/chosen a meal on Cathay, the flight attendant will have always done their homework and confirm that was the chose that I made (unlike on American airlines, where they barely check anything before they get on board and ask you what you would like, and then look surprised when you tell them you pre-ordered). Flying on Cathay or JAL is an experience in itself during your travel; they define what it means when people say, “It’s not about the destination, but the journey.” While I certainly do want to get to my destination, I absolutely love the in-flight experience, from the appetizers to mains to desserts to snacks to the drinks (they have their own signature drink called the Cathay Delight! It has just three ingredients that most definitely delight: fresh squeezed kiwi juice, coconut milk, and mint) to the service itself.

I also love that they have a Western option vs. a Chinese option. Why you would choose to fly on Cathay and select the Western meal (unless you are from somewhere in Asia and need something “different”) is beyond my comprehension. For my breakfast option, I was served century egg and shredded pork congee, stir-fried egg noodles with mixed vegetables, and mixed fruit. And the lunch option I chose is one of my comfort foods: braised short ribs with egg noodle soup. The egg noodle soup was perfect in pretty much every way: the brisket was flavorful and melt-in-your-mouth tender; the noodles were slightly springy and al dente, and the soup itself was multi-noted and extremely fragrant and savory. For once, Kaia actually ate most of her two kids’ meals in flight (well, with me spoon-feeding her as she happily got way too much screen time with Pepa Pig…); she even finished off my soup and seemed obsessed with it.

After we arrived in Hong Kong and dropped off our bags at the hotel, we went out in search for our first meal, which I wanted to be roast goose. We never get the option of roast goose at Cantonese style roast meat places (not that duck or pork is a bad option!), so while in Hong Kong, we want to maximize our time here. So we chose a spot that was walking distance from our hotel. We sat down, ordered half a roast goose, rice, noodles, and a plate of blanched yu choy (you cai) with oyster sauce on the side. It had been so long (since end of 2015-early 2016) when I was last in Hong Kong, so I had forgotten that most places do not provide napkins/serviettes, so we ended up paying $2 HKD for a small packet. But regardless, the meal hit the spot and was delicious. According to people who know way more about geese and ducks than I do, goose tends to be fattier than duck, and a tiny bit gamier. Both have a pretty thick fat layer between their skin and flesh. To be honest, in the moment I couldn’t really tell the difference. But I really enjoyed the crispy skin and all the drippings that flavored the rice we ordered. The meat was juicy, soft, and tender. It was so satisfying, and a great way to welcome us into eating the little world that is Hong Kong.

When we were on our way from the airport to the hotel, our driver and I had some small talk about living in Hong Kong vs. New York. He complained about the rapidly rising cost of living in Hong Kong and said that things that were once cheap were now extremely expensive (sounds like the complaints of pretty much everyone everywhere, self included). He even used the English word for “inflation” to emphasize how frustrating it all was. In general, Cantonese-style roast meats, known as 燒味 siu mei in Cantonese or shao wei in Mandarin, are considered a delicacy in Chinese cuisine — an integral style of cooking that makes Cantonese cuisine (粤菜 or Yue Cai) so highly respected across China. Though dishes like cha siu (Cantonese-style BBQ roast pork) are nearly daily staples that tend to be more affordable at roast meat shops in Chinatowns around the world, dishes like roast goose and duck are always far more expensive, as they require a bit more skill. Though I’ll be honest and say that I wasn’t totally expecting our half roast goose to come out to 258 HKD, or just over $33. I was fine to pay it since we never get roast goose, and we’re on holiday in Hong Kong anyway, so why not while here? But these sounded like prices I’d pay for a similar half duck or goose in New York. So, this definitely wasn’t the cheap eats meal I was remembering from 2015-2016 for sure. However, I suppose to even it out, our decently-sized plate of yu choy was only 20 HKD, or just over $2.50 USD. It’s a give and take world here in post COVID-19 pandemic Hong Kong while in a high inflation period. I’ll still be happy to eat all, but I know that the “cheap eats” is all relatively defined, and a lot of things, if cheaper, will only be marginally cheaper than back home in New York.

Packing packed luggage for the long trip back

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Ever since we’ve been coming down to Australia for Christmas with Kaia in tow, packing to go back to New York has always felt stressful. It’s not actually like we have more luggage or more stuff, but it feels like it’s more stressful, and I’m not sure how to explain that. Before she existed, Chris would mostly pack the large suitcase coming back with lots of his favorite Arnott’s biscuits and crackers, Australian wine and gin. We’ve had to cut way, way back on all of that in favor of all of Kaia’s gifts. In the last two years, Kaia actually hasn’t received that many gifts quantity wise, but somehow, some way, they manage to fill up the large luggage pretty quickly. There’s really no polite way to tell friends or family in Australia that if they’d like to gift Kaia something on the larger side to please just have it shipped to New York, huh?

I have lost count of the number of stuffed animals she has been gifted. Luckily in the last year or so, she’s grown fond of some of her stuffed animals, like Peter Rabbit. But even he has lost his charm with her. She pretty much doesn’t even acknowledge him anymore. Now, she seems into certain stuffed animals in the moment. Chris’s friend gifted her a little monkey we named Simon (after the friend), and she seems to like him for today, so I guess we’re bringing him back with us. Chris’s cousin got her a huge koala stuffed animal that was customized with her name on its belly. I cannot believe how much space this koala takes in this suitcase!

I’ve told Chris this a number of times, and I will say it here: I would really, really love to one day, take an international trip somewhere, and only walk through the airport with just my purse; no backpacks, no other carry-on roller bags or luggage. In that event, I’d just check a single roller bag, and that would be all my stuff. I would love to not have to deal with packing a super-stuffed suitcase and having anxiety about it being over the weight limit when we get to the airport to check in. But alas, I do not think that international trip will ever happen coming back from Australia, and it’s unlikely to happen while traveling with Chris, who wants to always check as few (or no ) bags as possible.

Family judgments and passive aggression

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At Chris’s and Chris’s cousin’s urging, Chris’s brother offered to host the wider family over at his place today for our fourth and final day of family festivities before everyone goes off and does their own thing until next year. The logic Chris’s cousin used was: it would be easy because we’d mostly be eating leftover food, and given we’d have a much later start (he asked everyone to come over at 5pm onward, as opposed to around 1pm onward for Christmas Day), he “wouldn’t need to do much” because we’d be playing games and chatting mostly. What no one actually did say in terms of effort, though, when it comes to hosting anyone over, is: you still need to… host. That means doing things like, doing what you can (in the leftover food situation) to tally and ensure there actually *will* be enough food); making sure you get everyone fed and hydrated, having adequate stocks of drinks, alcoholic and nonalcoholic; preparing and heating up the food; cleaning up surfaces and areas where leftover food could be; ensuring you have enough plates, cups, and cutlery for everyone attending. Chris’s mom panicked a little when she heard that her youngest offered to host: “He’s never hosted before. He doesn’t know what to do!” and when she asked him what he planned to serve, he responded, “Leftover food… and I can make everyone espresso martinis!”

It kind of panned out the way I thought it would: While Chris’s brother did deliver on making an espresso martini for everyone who asked for one, and he did provide enough plates, cutlery, and cups, he… didn’t do much else. As I expected, his mom took charge of things like reheating the food, laying out all the placemats and foods and ensuring people ate and drank, cleaning, loading the dishwasher, and helping people empty out their rubbish into rubbish bags. She spent most of her time looking preoccupied cleaning or rinsing or wiping something down that I came over a few times to remind her that she should sit down, relax, and eat, that this wasn’t her place. And she gave me this helpless look. “Poor Ben! He’s just all about his espresso martinis and just doesn’t know…” she said, with this sadness in her voice.

I refrained from saying this, but, no, he’s not poor. He’s so far from poor that he has no idea what the word “poor” actually means, in any sense of the word.

So, it was an interesting night at Chris’s mom’s house… I mean, Chris’s brother’s. And what made it more comical were some of the comments I heard Chris’s aunt make to me. Right before we started talking, I heard her ask one of her grandchildren to pass around the snack bowls that Chris’s mom had put together, because, “No one is passing out any food for anyone to eat. Can you go around and offer this to everyone?”

“Oh, just look at him,” Chris’s aunt said to me, with this half look of pity, half look of mockery. “He must not have ever hosted this many people in his life! You think he will ever find someone to marry? What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question, but I simply responded and said I wasn’t sure. Realistically speaking, how could anyone be sure who anyone would partner up with or marry or divorce or what? But it certainly felt like a jab not just at Chris’s brother, but also at their parents… for raising someone like Chris’s brother, who Chris’s aunt clearly was not very impressed with tonight.

Laksa station for Boxing Day

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Ever since late last year, when Hot Thai Kitchen published a video about how approachable laksa broth could be to make at home, I started accumulating a very pathetic, paltry collection of shrimp heads in my freezer, which are being stored in a bag. But I would really love to make from-scratch laksa, by making my own laksa paste. It’s easier said than done, not just from time and effort, but from the mere sourcing of ingredients. Candle nuts are an authentic ingredient used in laksa; they are hard, if not impossible, to find in the U.S. Prawn/shrimp heads are a must for real laksa broth, and unfortunately, in U.S. food culture, while Americans love shrimp, they usually have them with no heads and barely any tails. The prawn heads are where all the flavor is to make a delicious laksa broth. So when we were in Springvale in the first week of our time in Melbourne, I was in the spice aisle at an Asian supermarket and came across some promising laksa pastes. I chose one (based on the ingredients list/least amount of preservatives) and decided I’d make laksa at some point during this trip. As we approached Christmas, I came up with this idea that I’d set up a laksa station on the day Chris’s parents hosted. They hosted today, on Boxing Day (the day after Christmas), so I decided to set up my station: I pre-cooked some cut up chicken thighs, blanched snake (long) beans, tofu puffs, fish balls/fish cakes, bean sprouts, and Hokkien wheat noodles. I omitted the prawns since I figured we’d have enough protein. For the broth, it was really simple and quick: I combined the laksa paste with water and coconut milk, boiled, then simmered. And that was it! As family came in, I ambushed them at the door to ask them if they wanted laksa. They came to my station to tell me which components they wanted, and then I made each bowl to order. It was definitely a different thing to do, since usually on Boxing Day, we have leftovers all re-heated and set up potluck style, but I thought this would be fun to mix things up.

And it seemed like in the end, it was a hit: even Chris’s cousin’s three sons, who are picky eaters, all ate some component of the laksa station. Two of them even said they liked the broth and didn’t find it too spicy. One of them ate my fish balls…. although slathered in ketchup. But you know what? I think it’s a win when a picky eater is willing to eat anything new for the first time. I also discovered some of Chris’s relatives’ eating neuroses: One of them has a slightly paranoid hatred of tofu in any form (he asked me three separate times to make sure that there was no tofu in his bowl) and has passed it down to his daughter, who greeted me with the same paranoia when I told her I had a bowl of tofu puffs. Another relative refuses to eat prawns, and when she found out the broth had shrimp paste, she said she wouldn’t eat it. Then, she subsequently told me excitedly that she is going to Vietnam with her husband, cousin, and cousin’s spouse in early January, but while this may be new and exciting, she’s terrified of eating the food (“No offense,” she insisted, knowing half my heritage is Vietnamese). “I just don’t like eating things that are unfamiliar!”

There is something about serving food to loved ones that always gets me excited. A bunch of relatives kept thanking me and saying it must have been a lot of work. But to me, a bunch of blanching, reheating a pre-made, store-bought laksa paste with some water and coconut milk, and a little stir-frying of chicken actually isn’t too much effort. Sure, it took time to set up everything, but all good things take some time. These are the times it’s yet another reality check to me that most of my from-scratch cooking isn’t done by most people of today; I’m truly an anomaly, even among people who love food. A cousin had exclaimed how amazing it was that I went to the effort to make laksa for the whole family, and to order, and I laughed it off, saying it wasn’t even from scratch; I used a pre-made paste! And he responded, “Oh, no — you don’t understand: in my household, that IS ‘homemade’! You don’t even want to know what we eat at our house most days!”

I may do another laksa station Down Under next year, or another made-to-order station in the same vein. I found this whole thing really fun! We’ll just need to tell people to make less food next year to prevent food waste.

Everyone’s aging this Christmas… and every day of the year

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It’s Christmas day today, and Chris’s 43rd birthday. Chris has been telling everyone that he’s been loving his 40s and that his younger brother, who is turning 40 next September, should be embracing this new era of his life. Chris’s aunt and uncle hosted Christmas at their house. We did as we usually did and had lunch/dinner potluck style, so everyone brought a bunch of dishes to share. Given that we had a good chunk of the family away in Canada this year, there were fewer people to eat the food, so there was probably far more food than we really needed. In addition, some of the kids are slightly picky eaters, so Chris’s aunt made some plainer dishes like penne with tomato sauce and sausages in buns to ensure they ate.

Chris’s aunt just turned 70. She told me that she is feeling her age: simple tasks that were easy to do make her tired now. She has had her three grandsons over more often for babysitting because her older son’s place is undergoing some unanticipated renovations due to water damage; sometimes, she’s even had them overnight. She’s gotten stressed feeding them because they are so picky; one of them claims he’s allergic to vegetables or anything green. But she said that with age, she’s also realized she has to just let things go. “Let them!” she’s said to me about her new attitude when people say or do things she doesn’t like or she can’t stand. She said that there’s a podcast she wants to listen to that is literally called, “Let them.” His aunt said that hosting Christmas and events is tiring, but someone has to do it, and she still wants people to enjoy. So it’s worth it in the end. Though this year, she said, she wanted to make things a bit simpler and use disposable cups and plates. “It’s just one less thing to fuss over!” she said. If it’s easier for everyone, why not? Sure, it’s less environmentally friendly, but it’s just a couple days a year.

It makes me wonder, though, when it’s really our generations’ turn to do the bulk of the work for “hosting.” I think it really should be… NOW. Granted, Chris and I don’t live here, so it’s not like we could do it (plus, we already cook a big chunk of the dishes for the gatherings). But I think that given our parents’ generation is getting older and many are already in their 70s, it really should be more on us to do the work for hosting, whether it’s using our spaces (really, Chris’s cousins’ or Chris’s brother’s), setting up, organizing, laying out the food spreads, cleaning up. It’s why whenever Chris’s parents host, I try to do what I can to help set up, cook, and clean up. It especially makes up for the fact that their youngest son doesn’t do any of the above and just rolls in like he’s a guest. Sometimes, I can’t understand why it seems like everyone in the family of our generation is helpful when their parents host, literally every year and every time… except for Chris’s younger brother. Where did things go wrong here?

The sacrifices you make for your child that you never thought about before (during the holiday season)

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Pretty much from the beginning of November, once Halloween is over and the jack-o-lanterns have all rotted away, I start playing Christmas music every year. I listen to it on my phone. I play it on my computer. It’s on in our apartment. I can hear it in my head when I’m doing things. But as of this holiday season, I haven’t been able to play much Christmas music out loud at all, either at our apartment or at my in-laws’. Why is that? Well… It’s because Pookster the Punkster demands that “Wheels on the Bus” be played, whether it’s by Ms. Rachel, Coco Melon, or whatever kids’ band sings it on Amazon’s Alexa. She wants it playing all day, every day. She fusses over which artist sings it. Sometimes, she attacks versions she previously liked but maybe just outplayed. I tried weaning her out of it since it’s Christmas. I tried to get my in-laws’ Google device to play “Jingle Bells” or “Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer,” so songs that I know she has enjoyed listening to, or even sings herself sometimes. None of it worked. She still would whine and whinge, insisting that “I DON”T WANT THAT SONG! I don’t WANT Christmas music! I want WHEELS ON THE BUS BY COCOMELON!”

So, to avoid yet another tantrum or fat-tears spell, I appease her by just playing the freaking “Wheels on the Bus” song for the millionth time. I tell myself in my head that this is a season, and the season will end, and one day, she will will outgrow this phase and move onto something else. When people think of sacrifices they make for their children, they probably don’t really think about their choice in music. But alas, this is one of those sacrifices I’ve had to make that I never gave much thought to. It’s kind of funny when I think about it, and likely one of those little things I will likely forget. But I’m sure one day, I will look back on this post and remember writing this and think, “Wow, those really were some cute, sweet times.”

Running into an American while at an Australian Costco in Moorabin

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It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to go to Costco just two days before Christmas to do a bunch of grocery shopping, but well, we did that today. Since Costco has come to Australia, the people Down Under have really embraced it: when we were exiting the car park just past 11am this morning, the queue of cars to get into Costco stretched farther than my eye could see. And of course, as each Costco has local goods for its local markets, you also see things here that you would never see in the U.S., such as Arnott’s Tim Tams, Dilmah tea bags, an endless and enticing selection of Australian shirazes from as far as Western Australia to South Australia, and lots of local seafood, such as barramundi, Tasmanian salmon, scallops on the half shell, and lobster from the Indian Ocean.

While in the produce section of Costco today, I asked for assistance from an employee since Chris’s mom had requested jalapenos and pomegranates, but I wasn’t able to find them. One of them told me that they had run out, and immediately, I heard her American accent. As I thanked her and wished her merry Christmas, she stopped me and asked if I was American, and I told her I was. We talked a bit: she shared that she had been living here for seven years already and was loving it. She came with her husband and two young kids for her husband’s work; since then, they’ve had two more kids and have zero intention of ever going back to the U.S.

“It’s so addictive being here!” She exclaimed enthusiastically. “You really get used to the lifestyle here and how much more relaxed it is. And also, I just don’t feel safe raising my kids in the U.S. How can you when it seems like every day, there’s a school shooting?!”

I always think of that in the back of my mind as the reason that most Americans (with kids) who leave the U.S. for other countries don’t want to move back. I told her I completely understood her view point, and that I had a toddler who had sadly already experienced lockdown procedures at her former daycare/school.

“That’s disgusting that kids that young would have to go through that!” the American Costco employee retorted.

During conversations like these, there’s really nothing you can say or do to defend the U.S. You just kind of have to sit in the contemplation of how deeply disturbing and awful American society has become, to think that school shootings are just another part of living there.

Free babysitting – a rare commodity for us

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A few times while we are in Australia the last few years, we have taken advantage of the fact that Chris’s parents are here, available, and mentally/physically capable of taking care of Kaia, so we have gone out a few nights without her and left her in his parents’ care. Free babysitting is not a luxury we enjoy almost ever. One of my best friends babysat for us twice last year. I don’t trust my parents to ever take care of Kaia without me there. And Chris’s parents live all the way across the world from us. So these free childcare moments are definitely very, very rare for us. The first night this trip when we had his parents look after Kaia, Chris was doing a status flight to and from Sydney, while I was having dinner with a friend in a nearby suburb. The second night, we went out with Chris’s friend for dinner and drinks. While both nights out were enjoyable, what we did not expect to come home to (anytime between the hours of 9:30-10:30pm) was an awake Kaia Pookie. Kaia was holding out for us to come home and refused to let her grandma and grandpa put her to sleep. She fussed endlessly, making every excuse not to sleep. She even duped Chris’s mom into giving her more food after she had already brushed her teeth.

One night when we came back, we found her nestled in between them on the floor bed with an air mattress. She was lying on the bed, acting cheeky. Chris’s dad was pretty much passed out on the bed, while Chris’s mom looked exhausted and was attempting to soothe her into a much needed sleep. She saw us and immediately demanded to have daddy put her to bed. The next night, we both gave up, and she just slept in between us on our bed.

The older she gets, the more cunning and clever she becomes. I was hoping she’d just tire herself out and pass out from exhaustion, but she worked really hard to fight it off until we came home. More late nights are to come with Christmas quickly approaching, so this will be a temporary period of an increase in later-than-ideal bedtimes. But wow, her perseverance at such an early age is quite impressive.. even if I am not thrilled about her disrupted sleep cycles. I hope she can apply this perseverance to other parts of her life as she gets older.