Sunday brunch

So tuesday evening is a little late to talk about sunday morning, but cut me some slack, will ya? I had a happening week and too many stories to tell. And as I mentioned to the Wishfulthinker, I am too vain to publish more than one post a day, so you will have to do with the lag. Anyway, I digress (which I do very often, so, nevermind!).

There is only one thing you should be doing at 7am on a sunday morning. Sleeping at home. Please note that I dont make any distinctions about whose home you are sleeping in. That is inconsequential, and I am not a judgemental freak (oh, zip it!) and anyway the important word here is 'sleeping'. What you should not be doing, is landing in Singapore from Bangalore, and waiting to catch the 830am to Hong Kong, and instead of finding a nice place to doze off in transit, go looking for the Silver Lounge and then be turned down by them. Yes yes, serves me right, I know. But in my defense, I was planning to upgrade my flight. Which, apparently, can be done only 2 weeks in advance. Bah! (At this point, let me inform you, that all accusations of being a "spoilt brat" or a "rich kid" shall be taken as compliments. So keep 'em coming, honey)

So the poor girl drags her sleep-deprived self and heavy laptop bag and a suitcase she refused to check-in (so she could beat the queue by not having to wait for checked baggage... beat the queue to what, dont ask me!) all over Singapore airport, and then all over Hong Kong airport, and then all over the Airport express... you get the point, dont ya.

Finally, after much harrassment by hotel staff (read: repeated dialogue on where the cafe is and how much they will charge to my card, which I can narrate with my eyes closed after 3 weeks of hotel-hopping), this girl finally sees a bed, a good 1.5 days after she last saw one. And she collapses. It was like from the frying pan, into the fire. Only, it was with a positive connotation this time.

From one of my favourite cities in India, Bangalore, to another one I love, Hong Kong. It is strange how much I did NOT complain about the traffic in Bangalore. How I was okay that it took us nearly 1 hour to cover a distance which would have taken 20 minutes, a year back. How I did not mind waiting 1.5 hours for a friend to turn up at MG. How I didnt get irritated that all restaurants close at 3pm and there is very little chance of getting a good lunch at a decent place. Sometimes, imperfections are acceptable. Sometimes, it makes us seem real. It makes us realise that we are living, not existing. It might sound very poetic for me to say this, given that I was there for only 3 days, was driven around in air-con cars for most part, and didnt have much of an agenda except to relax and enjoy. Yet, I hope you understand, when I say, there is beauty in imperfection.

As I lay on the bed, providing closure to my thoughts on Bangalore, I looked out of the window, and once again, I realised I saw something beautiful. Buildings crammed against each other, small pigeonholes, a whole lot of traffic, and pollution worth taking note of. Yet, Hong Kong has always looked beautiful to me. Very geeky of me, but allow me to compare it to Middle Earth. Especially IFC1 and IFC2 reminding me of the Two Towers. A weird combination of cloud and smog reducing visibility, at the same time giving everything a mystic look. The backdrop of mountains, which gives this concrete jungle a natural touch. The harbour view and the grey of the skies and the water, mixing into each other.

It is strange how sometimes you love the things you never thought you could tolerate. But I guess they know what they mean, when they say, the heart has a mind of its own.