Saskia has been unable to keep anything down since 3am. After the 6th round of puking at 7am and the sight of little blood specks in the vomit, sent us straight to the ER. This is the second time we have visited the lovely public hospital since our arrival in HK. We couldn't be more impressed with the care we have received.
Saskia was quickly triaged to URGENT, seen by two doctors, x-rayed, poked and prodded, and diagnosed with a bad stomach virus all for about $12 US. Amazing. We were given the option of admitting her for observation and rehydration, but opted to try at home first.
She still hasn't kept anything down (and has vomited a total of 13 times) and it promises to be another long night. However, no major signs of dehydration yet, so we will stay home and avoid the hospital IV as long as possible. She is such a great kid and is in surprisingly good spirits, considering.
We will keep you posted.
Showing posts with label Livin' in the Sih-Tay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Livin' in the Sih-Tay. Show all posts
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Bad walkers
When we came back to Hong Kong after the summer, I made a little pact with myself that this was home now, and part of my settling in and accepting that meant letting go of some of the things about Hong Kong that drive me crazy (the pollution, how grocery shopping takes most of a day and requires at least 3 different stops, crunchy underwear, the 87 degree 95% humidity in OCTOBER, et cetera, et cetera).
HOWEVER...I just don't seem to be able to let go of my frustration regarding all the bad walkers. They are everywhere and it is CRAZY MAKING.
This is a big city, is it not? You would think it would be full of determined city folk all making their way quickly somewhere important. But people here mosey. You'd think we were in Kansas. Not only do they mosey, but they spread. They cover the whole sidewalk with their moseying making it next to impossible to get past with out seeming like a rude guialo who can't pronounce "mngoi" correctly.
It is really weird when you think about it, because in many ways Hong Kongers are so pushy and fast paced. They push their way on the subway or bus or elevator before you are able to exit. They are always trying to get ahead, in school, in work, in the world.
They, they, they....hmmm
Most days I am able to take a deep breath, slow down, and enjoy the stroll. Remind myself, that I am the one that needs to acculturate here, not the other way around. I say a happy prayer. I am thankful for all the things I love about Hong Kong. But not everyday yet. I'm not sure if I'll master the step of accepting this home, before we move on to the next. But in the meantime, I'll remember the things I love about Hong Kong (the amazing new things I see everyday, the old folks who do Tai Chi on the podium of our apartment everymorning, the friends we have, the color everywhere, the view as I walk out of the train station each day, the amazing food, the pushy old people, the beautiful young people, the vibrant markets, THE CITY, the public transportation, our little shopping cart, the drivers of our minibus, the people who work in our apartment building, et cetera, et cetera) and keep trying.
HOWEVER...I just don't seem to be able to let go of my frustration regarding all the bad walkers. They are everywhere and it is CRAZY MAKING.
This is a big city, is it not? You would think it would be full of determined city folk all making their way quickly somewhere important. But people here mosey. You'd think we were in Kansas. Not only do they mosey, but they spread. They cover the whole sidewalk with their moseying making it next to impossible to get past with out seeming like a rude guialo who can't pronounce "mngoi" correctly.
It is really weird when you think about it, because in many ways Hong Kongers are so pushy and fast paced. They push their way on the subway or bus or elevator before you are able to exit. They are always trying to get ahead, in school, in work, in the world.
They, they, they....hmmm
Most days I am able to take a deep breath, slow down, and enjoy the stroll. Remind myself, that I am the one that needs to acculturate here, not the other way around. I say a happy prayer. I am thankful for all the things I love about Hong Kong. But not everyday yet. I'm not sure if I'll master the step of accepting this home, before we move on to the next. But in the meantime, I'll remember the things I love about Hong Kong (the amazing new things I see everyday, the old folks who do Tai Chi on the podium of our apartment everymorning, the friends we have, the color everywhere, the view as I walk out of the train station each day, the amazing food, the pushy old people, the beautiful young people, the vibrant markets, THE CITY, the public transportation, our little shopping cart, the drivers of our minibus, the people who work in our apartment building, et cetera, et cetera) and keep trying.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Cooking in Hong Kong (Vegetarians beware!)
During the 1st Gulf War, the company my parents worked for in Saudi Arabia brought US Marines in from their camps in the desert (think tents, dusty grit everywhere and camel spiders that can eat your face off) to nice American homes for showers, calls back to the US, and a good home cooked meal.
Last school year I received an email forward from our crazy librarian. Normally, I delete these unread, but this one titled "Meals in the Home" I opened. Two minutes later I was replying to the Hong Kong American Women's Association Chair saying " Yes, please, we would love to host 3 or 4 sailors/marines/soldiers/whatever.". Our first hosting experience was a big success, and we were excited when the opportunity came up again this past weekend.
The whole thing was probably doomed from the start. First a typhoon threatened to keep the ships (and when I say ship I mean a "small town" of 5,000+ sailors and marines) out of Hong Kong habor. Then Saskia woke up with a fever. While I was at the grocery store shopping for our 3 marines Erik called to say that a Navy Sailor was being added to our group. No problem! A couple extra potatoes, another ear or two of corn, a second tub of ice cream, and a 2 kilo pork roast instead of 1.5.
That's right. Pork roast. (Here's where the vegetarians might want to stop reading) .After much fussing I had decided on a menu of down home pork roast, mashed taters, and corn on the cob. For simplicity sake, I decided to spend the extra $100 hk, and buy the pork roast at the fancy grocery store where I had to go for most of the other ingredients instead of the wet market, where we usually buy our meat. I didn't see any pork roasts in the display and so asked the nice butcher did he have any hidden away in the refridgerator. He said yes, I asked for my 2 kilos, got distracted watching the fish jumping out of a near by tank onto the grocery store floor, took my nicely wrapped (huge and very heavy roast), paid and left.
When I got home, imagine my surprise when I tore off the paper wrapping ready to smear on a lovely olive oil, lemon, garlic, rosemary paste and was faced with this*:
The whole thing was probably doomed from the start. First a typhoon threatened to keep the ships (and when I say ship I mean a "small town" of 5,000+ sailors and marines) out of Hong Kong habor. Then Saskia woke up with a fever. While I was at the grocery store shopping for our 3 marines Erik called to say that a Navy Sailor was being added to our group. No problem! A couple extra potatoes, another ear or two of corn, a second tub of ice cream, and a 2 kilo pork roast instead of 1.5.
That's right. Pork roast. (Here's where the vegetarians might want to stop reading) .After much fussing I had decided on a menu of down home pork roast, mashed taters, and corn on the cob. For simplicity sake, I decided to spend the extra $100 hk, and buy the pork roast at the fancy grocery store where I had to go for most of the other ingredients instead of the wet market, where we usually buy our meat. I didn't see any pork roasts in the display and so asked the nice butcher did he have any hidden away in the refridgerator. He said yes, I asked for my 2 kilos, got distracted watching the fish jumping out of a near by tank onto the grocery store floor, took my nicely wrapped (huge and very heavy roast), paid and left.
When I got home, imagine my surprise when I tore off the paper wrapping ready to smear on a lovely olive oil, lemon, garlic, rosemary paste and was faced with this*:
That's right: SKIN on! I supposed a true chef would be thrilled by a piece of meat like this. I however was completely at a loss. In a panic, I started googling like mad, "how to cook a roast with the skin on" "skin on roast" "roast with skin". Where would I spread my lovely lemongarlickyrosemary paste? I almost started to cry. The only thing I could think of to do was to (gulp) start cutting. As I was elbows deep in pig skin and fat (I could never have been a doctor) my phone rang. It was Erik telling me that only 1 of the 4 expected guests had shown up. 1. One. No problem, I said. Smile. See you soon, and went back to "carving" away at my little piggie.
One.
In the end it was a fantastic meal ( the roast was a little dry, I probably should have left the skin and fat on). Our one sailor was a funny, talker from Oregon of all places. And to top the evening off our good friends (and downstairs neighbors) the Driedgers came upstairs to help eat the massive quantity of brownies, ice cream and berries I had prepared.
Imagine if I had bought the roast at the wet market. Yikes!
* This is not a picture of our actual roast, we had left both our cameras at school. However, this could be the twin sister of the hunk of meat I wrestled with yesterday.
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