The Ultimate Twenty-Something Bucket List - OMFG

My newsfeed is always full of articles with titles such as 30 Places to See Before You Die, 20 Roadtrips to Take in Your Twenties, and, well, you get the gist. Even I'm guilty of posting a bucket-list type article every so often! But, that's where it ends, at merely posting it. Dreaming of living and living the dream are two very different things and for most of us, dreaming is the furthest we go. Being proactive is scarce when your comfort zone is -- well pretty damn comfortable.

I'd like to think I've led a relatively interesting life. A good amount of travel, some crazy experiences, and a few utter last minute decisions where I've packed up and just gotten the hell out of this city for more than a vacation because I could. But, even with all I've done, I still feel as though I've only written one chapter, if that, in the Great Canadian Novel that is to be my life. (Note: the only chapter fully written would be that on desserts. I am an expert.)

With that I present to you my twenty-something bucket list! Not simply a list of things I haven't done, like the bucket lists I wrote when I was little were comprised of; (Swim with dolphins: check!), but a proper twenty-something bucket list of experiences. Really effing awesome experiences.

Be an artist.

We all know right-brained people are taking over the world. It's all about the creative class nowadays and to create is an essential part of the twenty-something (and beyond!) experience. With so many outlets at our artistic disposal, and with even more social mediums to share the creative process than ever, being an artsy-fartsy has never been more accessible. Sounds intimidating, but I'm not looking to mastermind the next Jay-Z interactive performance art installation here (yet, anyway) -- brush to canvas, camera to travel, anything so long as they get the creative juices going! Start small then go big...but always be creating. 

Be an explorer.

I'm in about the same physical shape as a couch. (See: dessert expert chapter) Skinny, yes, but more of a plump skinny-fat, if you will. While not exactly motivated by physical activity, I very well know that some of the most raw and spectacular places on Earth are only accessible to those who pick their asses up off the ground and move. Machu Picchu has always been a trek I've wanted to hike, as well as some of the crazy river paths in Southeast Asia. River Monsters is, I kid you not, one of my favorite shows. Getting into shape in order to see big-ass scary monster fish halfway across the world? Um, I literally cannot think of a better reason. 

An ultimate foodie experience.

While dessert is the love of my life, I'm a fan of food in general. There's pretty much nothing I won't try and there's quite a lot of unappealing delicacies I rather enjoy. (Weird animal innards, weird animals and what have you -- bring it on.) I've been lucky enough to dine at some of the best restaurants in the world but I've still yet to have an ultimate foodie experience. I came pretty close in Tokyo, seeing the Tsukiji Fish Market in action then eating hands-down the best sushi of my life -- but there's still much to see, and most importantly taste, for me in the culinary realm. Truffle hunting, cooking lessons in Tuscany, the full farm-to-plate experience...I could go on. My stomach is rumbling already.

Learn a new language.

The two languages I speak are English, and a made up language my best friend taught me that she learned from camp when we were in junior high. Yup. So there's definitely room for me to grow in that department! Rather than go the Rosetta Stone route, to get a check-off on this list I require learning it first-hand by immersing myself in another culture. Think Under The Tuscan Sun except everyone is twenty years younger. Soaking in another culture is the most cliched of all bucket list experiences but it's for a reason -- quintessential to knowing what you want is educating yourself on all your options, the world over. Soak it all in, kids.

Fall in love....unconditionally.

This may be the hardest one on this bucket list of all. Falling in love in your twenties is no easy feat -- stupid crap we carry around from past trysts, pressure to make the most of the decade life-experience-wise while simultaneously having to somehow figure out our futures makes it damn near impossible. However if you do find that little needle of love in the dating haystack, do it properly and give it a fair chance. No inhibitions, no defense mechanisms and entirely whole-heartedly. Goodness knows I've messed up more than a few relationships with my insecurities and over-thinking. It's easier said than done and there's no guarantee it will be painless, but you never know until you truly try. Stupid crap, begone!

We all know that the times you dive head-first outside your comfort zone are simply the best. Like, the freaking best. They're thrilling, they're scary and they're unpredictable --  all in exciting and momentum-fueled ways. We all get to know ourselves much better when we're in the unknown rather than idly coasting along. This list is merely one I've set for myself; revise it, personalize it, but most importantly make one that gets you outside your comfort zone. The world awaits.

x

OMFG - The Chase: Expectation vs. Reality

Ever since Joseph Gordon-Levitt showed us his split-screen expectation versus reality vision in (the amazing, but also depressingly realistic) 500 Days of Summer, we collectively sighed. No, not over his adorably offbeat charm...but rather because we've all been there. The good old dating game! It never quite lives up to how we picture it, now does it?

Delusions of grandeur are exactly that...delusions. We romantics perhaps have it a bit worse than the rest, but I'd say, even in this jaded and opportunistic urban dating world, everyone is guilty of building things up in their pretty little heads. You want him to do this or lavish you with that, or do that thing that hot leading dude in that rom-com did for his leading lady. (Gosling/Tatum, I'm looking at you!) He, on the other hand, wants you to act this way or do that, or behave like that lady-in-the-streets but freak-in-the-bed chick he saw in that one movie. It's confusing and disappointing and pointless. The key? Adjusting your expectations.

Easier said than done, my fellow daters! The honeymoon period is called so precisely for a reason: the excitement, the courting, the chase...it's absolute heaven. There's nothing quite like the chase and a guy will likely pull out all the romantic, showy stops to get you from eye candy to bed candy...or sometimes girlfriend candy as well. I'm not saying men have to be utter showmen for the duration of the union, but guys...don't do anything you don't plan on up-keeping at least in some way while you're with her.

You can court the crap out of your girl at the beginning, but unless you genuinely can maintain that sort of behavior and, more so, think she deserves it (even after you're with her) then just don't. Seriously. Yes, we're talking financially (it's not like you're comping dinners to the company card here) but also affection-wise. It is more than irksome when a man starts off being intense and intimate and just fades from there. Cue the instant downer sound now. Either she'll resent you for thinking that you were at a level you weren't (or had stronger feelings for her than you do) or you'll resent her for having to execute actions you're just not interested in. Yes, we get it, the chase is the chase, but make it somewhat believable.

And to my girls who get swept away as easily as one, two, Louboutin -- throw in a little logic with those rose-tinted glasses! If he's whisking you away to St. Tropez, or wining and dining you to a ridiculous point within the first few weeks, it's not a good sign. Unless you want to be a little trophy or are a shameless gold digger (both totally plausible options in this city - and if that's your thing - by all means) then steer clear my friends, steer clear.

The trick to adjusting your expectations? Be happy with yourself as is. Anything on top of that will be a nice added perk! Anything that falls short, well, won't matter because you'll be fine one way or the other. Self-loathing makes for all-too-easy delusions of grandeur. Enjoy the chase, go along for the ride, but don't forget to self-tint those rose-colored glasses every now and then. x

How to Hone Your Bitch-dar; Keeping Nasty Gals Away

Bitches be crazy. With men, sure. But with other women...well that's a whole other level. When Congreve penned his infamous line hell hath no fury like a woman scorned in the 1600's, he probably should of modified it to anticipate modern times: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...by bitches. Now, I'm no hater of other girls by any means. Actually, it's precisely the fact that I'm a girl's girl which makes betrayal of female friendship so unleashing of said fury. So, how does a lovely and loyal girl such as yourself make sure you never feel the bitch betrayal? It's as simple as honing in on your bitch-dar, with these tips and tricks of the girl trade. Allow me to elaborate:

- Hateful on being grateful.

I'm a grateful person by nature; living a happy and fulfilled life is only perpetuated by remaining so, in my opinion. I don't take anything for granted, including friendship. (And travel. And music. And sushi. And dessert. Dessert. And more dessert. Let's just say I'm forever grateful for all desserts.) Get your bitch-dar red flags to half mast if you recognize a girl friend who just seems ungrateful...for everyone and everything in her life. I've seen this more so in models than any other demographic of friends, I assume because being beautiful often makes things come easier than they would for those who have to work for model-afforded perks. (Trips, designer clothes, comped dinner, etc.) This observation is not without exception though as a some of my most mind-blowingly gorgeous model friends also possess the most gratitude. Nonetheless, model or otherwise, if she's ungrateful for what you do for her, it's because she doesn't value it. And girls who value very little have the loyalty levels of zip to zilch. I think I can speak for all thanks-giving girls alike when I say no thanks.

- Lost, lonely, little girl.

I have a ton of girl acquaintances, a fair number of close girl friends, a handful of super close girl friends, and one best friend and one sister, both of whom I would trust with my life...or my last piece of cheesecake. We all stay in pretty much constant communication (maybe a little too much -- I know what my sister eats everyday for every meal and vice-versa...seriously) whether it be via perpetual texting, or in-person hangs. While this sounds excessive, most girls are the same way. While men can be lone wolves of (usually) cultivated mystery and aloofness, women tend to be sharers who bond by doing exactly that -- sharing. (One need only watch the Friends episode where Rachel encourages Ross to share with his guy friends the way she does with her gals to see the benefits.) If a girl says you're her only girl friend, or that she, and I quote "usually doesn't get along with other girls", well honey, it's for a damn reason. Girlfriend is going to screw you over...and soon. Such ostracized members of the female sex tend to thrive on 1) male attention and 2) competition. You'll get in her way and she'll cut you down, or she'll step on you on her way to whatever top spot she deems hers. Pass.

-  Too much, too fast....and not in a good way.

We live in an era of fast friends. You meet out through friends once or twice, you have one solid day time hang, and suddenly you're posting inside jokes on each others' Facebook walls, pre-gaming together before every club outing and proclaiming "OMG loooove you!" all the freaking time. I've been there, you've been there, we've all been there. I'd say one in every twenty of these friendships turn out to be the real thing while the rest...well let's just say easy come, easy go, especially when you're an easy (friendship) ho. Girls that tend to latch on and get all up in your life way too fast just strike me as...odd. There's no need for a friend to social climb over all normal boundaries to either date all your friends or befriend all your friends. It's creepy. It's weird. And there's probably a reason she's running away from her life and taking over yours. Obsessive relationships are for junior high kids and bad movies. (Hello, Swimfan.)

- (Don't) save our souls.

A wise man once told me "You can't save everybody Sheila." Sure, this was at an afterparty at 4 a.m. and that wise man was not sober, but the gist of his words was accurate. I have this habit of finding lost girls and wanting to save them through being there for them...endlessly. This has perhaps been the most acute lesson of my twenties when it comes to friendship: you can't help those who don't want to help themselves. I've been burned more than a few times by still giving myself to such friends who have hurt me simply because I know their lives are more messed than mine will ever be. But alas, some people are beyond my capabilities, or more accurately put, just don't wanna change. Self-loathing, torn families, tragic incidents and substance-fueled pasts don't have to mean dark presents or futures...but if a friend has no desire to change, then c'est la (or c'est their) vie. Not yours.

Finely honing your bitch-dar takes a little know how and a lot of experience. At the ripe old age of 26, I can say I've had a sufficient amount of both the former and the latter. There's no need to be cutthroat or cold about any of this -- but perhaps a little perspective will help with this guide: friendship is a privilege, not a right, and by now I know to bestow this privilege only on those who I see fit. Add positively to my life, or don't add to it at all. Happy honing, my darling readers! Scorned, schmorned...ain't nobody got time for that. x

The Skinny Promo Model Bitch Diet

I'm a skinny bitch. Bitchy, when need be, but skinny, always. How's that now, you ask? Does a hard partying, model/promoter lifestyle not shine as a beacon for health and athleticism? Oh, but it does. Allow me to introduce you to the Skinny Promo Model Bitch Diet...no sneakers or Lululemon pants required.

- Drink copious amounts of vodka.

For a little Asian, I can down my vodka with the best of them. Nurture has taken over nature in this case and my promo-breeding has made it so that three times a week from the hours of 11p.m. to last man standing, vodka renders itself to water in my body. Okay, water that gets me wasted, but not nearly as much as it should. They key here is vodka and nothing but. It's all about shots. Cranberry juice is for high school girls and pansies. The only acceptable mix is sugar-free diet Redbull or a lime. I like my girly cocktails at dinners but they tend to be full of sugar and other crap. Like my Russian girlfriends wisely advise, it's all about the WODKA.

- Those extra 4.5 inches.

I'm talking about heels, of course. Waltzing around three or four (or five or six..) times a week for hours on end in sky-high heels gives your legs quite the workout. I practically live in heels and have to run all around clubs in them providing me with an arched-angle workout that you can't get at the gym. This supposed kitten heeled comeback in fashion this season can kiss my toned ass. The magic number is 4.5...inches that is! Tall enough to look amazing and work those calves but not high enough to borderline on hooker-esque. (Defend Loubs all you want girls, but those shiny, patent leather, platform 6-inchers belong on escorts and escorts only.) Guiseppe, Nicholas, Rupert and Alexander care not just about your fashion but your health too...obviously. Now strap on a pair and get moving.

- Shake it like a Polaroid picture.

Shake it, and shake it often. Dancing at a club usually entails bobbing around from side to side while having screaming conversations with your booth mates over the bass line. Heck, on most of my nights the dance floor isn't so much a dance floor as it is a single's mixer. I make a point of dancing my face off at least once a week. When the dance floor won't suffice, there's always in the booth or better yet on the tables. Fist pumping, booty shaking, legs rocking, and whatever else you can do, do it. It's fun. It's calorie burning. And it sure beats talking to all the duds who are trying to pick you up should you remain sedentary. Oh Andre 3000, you are so wise.

- Cooked food is for suckers.

 My favorite meal is steak tartare. I could eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sushi is a close second. What can I say -- I like my animals raw. Fortunately, there are enough trendy sushi restaurants in this city to dine at so I don't have to resort to health/fresh/raw eateries to maintain my raw cravings and can still be social. Dinner at Blowfish before a night out? No problem. Drinks and bites at Ja Bistro on a Saturday? Sure thing. Keeping it (mostly) raw when dining out allows for a meal that doesn't necessarily have to be belt line busting. Also, as some one who has to (seriously, has to) have dessert at, oh, almost every meal, I rather save my calories for all things sweet. Baked isn't the same as cooked, right?! Whatever, cake is so worth it.

- Sleep it off.

When you like to party, you some times get home at 4a.m. When you like to party and it's your job, some times you come home after sunrise. What does this mean for your sleep schedule? Mostly that a good portion of it occurs during the day. On the weekends anyway. And what does this mean for staying a skinny minny? Well, simply put, if you're sleeping, you can't be eating. And when you sleep your way through most normal hours of meals, it means you're eating even less. There are quite a few days a week where dinner is the only meal I have. (And some times late night junk after a night out, but I mean....McDonald's after a particularly intense night is practically a right of passage in your twenties.) Healthy, it ain't, but when I'm hungover in bed, there is not a power on Earth that will make me functional enough to prepare a meal. Until the delivery service industry evolves to fit my promoter needs (ugh, hello, how hard is bedside delivery really), daytime starvation once or twice a week it is.

- Balancing cigarettes & tofu. 

As Gwyneth Paltrow stated in her recent Harper's Bazar interview, "it's all about finding that balance between cigarettes and tofu." (Some call her insufferable, I call her perfection.) I work three nights a week and go out on my own at least one other night. But, the rest of the time, I am pretty darn healthy. Veggies galore and lean fishes and meat. Does it make up for the irreversible damage I'm likely causing my liver and otherwise the rest of the time? Probably not. But I like my cigarettes just as much, if not a little more, than my tofu. Youth is fucking precious and I plan on procuring one that I can regale endless stories from when I'm older.

And there you have it...the Skinny Promo Model Bitch Diet. Ingest with your skinny tongue firmly placed in your skinny cheek. I'll see all you 4.5 inched, straight vodka guzzling skinny bitches on the dance floor. x

 

Shit happens. Keep calm & move on....OMFG

My purse committed suicide last week. Okay...that's not entirely true. I may of assisted in its murder. In my defense, I was drunk. No -- drunk is not a sufficient enough word to describe the state I was in. I was totally, ridiculously, insanely and outrageously wasted. It was the end of the night on my 25th birthday last week and as I stumbled out of the cab to get home (in 4-inch heels, no less), I left my beautiful black purse in the backseat, thus committing the first crime of my quarter century year: pursicide.

One wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelets later I learned my first lesson of the latter half of my twenties: shit happens. Keep calm and move on. The first part of that lesson has never been my forte. A highly emotionally-charged being, I'm prone to freaking-the-fuck out when shit hits the proverbial fan. Mostly on the inside, some times on the outside, and always electronically. My poor Droid has received the brunt end of my emotional lashings via endless texting spazzes and even a few throws...thank goodness for hard box cases. What do these freak-outs do? Next to nothing.

Besides dehydrating me via the massive amount of water I expel through my overused tear ducts, having mini meltdowns over ex-boyfriends this, missing out on that and everything else that tends to cause me stress just makes it worse. I always tease my barely emotional friends for being robots, but at times I wonder if life really is easier with the ability to suppress any uncomfortable feelings. Unluckily for me, I'm a freakin' feelings monster who seems to thrive on functioning at a wavelength that only prepubescent girls and I can hear.

And much to my recent dismay, immaturity is exactly what I've come to realize freaking out amounts to. I'm twenty five now for goodness sake; I think it's time I get a handle on two things: 1) that exes suck balls and 2) that my emotions can't run my life. Mr. Roboto, I never will be, but there's definitely room to improve emotional intelligence-wise. I know my tear ducts will thank me later.

Suddenly one wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelet's doesn't seem like such a high price to pay for one darn good realization: taking control of things that affect me negatively and making them not is entirely in my hands. A wise man (ahem, Thomas Neary) once told me progress is the key to happiness...ending teenage emotional sprees at twenty five may be late, but it is progress nonetheless. From pursicide to epiphanies -- it's all about taking negative experiences and transitioning into positive realizations. Shit happens. Freak out momentarily. Keep calm, keep smiling, and move the fuck on.

x

The Afterparty....OMFG

There's a little ritual that happens every week when I'm out with friends at a club. The bass gets softer, the bottles are face down in the ice buckets and everyone starts to get a little restless. My friends and I exchange sheepish glances and it's clear to everyone that even though the venue is closing down, our night is far from over. And thus begins the search for the after party. Oh, the after party! In a city where last call is a relatively early 2 a.m. (In Montreal, we'd all be less motivated after a good extra hour of drinking, and in NYC, being up until the sunrise is usually a given..) the search for the after party is a regularly occurring ritual for nights out. Over my years out and about on the scene I've seen them all...from sketchy iron-barred hole-in-the-walls on Spadina, to three story penthouses overlooking the water, and everything in between.

It begins with texting. You message your friends who are out and about across the city and see who is willing to volunteer their desirable digs to have people over. If it's not a friend, then it's a friend of a friend. Or, more likely, a dude who knows the neighbor of a friend of a friend of a friend, but is totally loaded and just wants to have a good time. And in the hours after 2 a.m., that's really the common goal here: having a good time. That pursuit of (temporary) happiness as it may be is what brings together the most random assortment of people. I've walked into after parties only to notice after a few minutes that aside from the people I've shown up with, I recognize absolutely no one there. I've also walked into after parties and right back out because there have been more than a few people I would rather not spend time with. Unless I know the owner of the house personally or am the instigator of the shady shindig, it's a lotto game when it comes to the crowd: everyone from my good friends, to industry, to drug dealers, to loose gold-diggers and hipsters. (I'll let you decide just how many of those categories overlap. Clue? Too many.)

Those that are in couples, have office jobs in the early morning or scheduled end-times in their heads to their night need not apply to the after party process. Sure, there are exceptions to every rule (and as half of a couple who used to party hard with her ex, I'll share this: it's fun at first to have a boyfriend/partner in crime, but when you're serious with some one, you just want to hang out alone at 4a.m.) The after party is for those who went out looking for something and aren't satisfied by the time the club dies down -- whether it be a bootycall, riding out the rest of a high, or simply a desire to connect with some one new, we're all looking for something, or some one, when we make our way into the next dimly lit premise.

Sketchiness aside, I've had some amazing times at after parties, which probably happen more than I'd like to admit. What makes the difference for me between sketchiness and sketchy good times is the company; and fortunately I'm always armed with a pretty awesome crew of friends and solid people. That's another goal one can have when it comes to after hours: it doesn't have to be about sex or drugs, but simply just extending a good night out with friends. Fun, friends, and just a little bit of scandal....the perfect mix for after parties in our lovely city. Happy hunting fellow nightcrawlers!
x

OMFG -- a S'pore goodbye!

It's my last day here in Singapore and the only word to describe how I'm feeling is grateful. This trip has been a crazy, wonderful, enlightening experience that I can add to all the other experiences I've had thus far in my grand journey. As my gorgeous roommate and now good friend makes dinner in our little kitchen above the church, I plan on leaving Singapore the way I came -- with the company of amazing friends. I'm probably also going to leave partying because let's face it, that's how I came here too...boarding my flight after being out until 6am the night before -- not fun! I wanted to write a quick list of what I'm thankful for while my memories are still fresh:
The people
Singapore has been an amazing city to live in, and I'm sure I'll be back in the near future. The people here are insanely polite, and this coming from a Canadian can only mean that they're not just a little polite -- they're ridiculously, generously, beautifully polite. From the friends of friends who graciously shared their yachts, homes, and dinners to the darling little old man who walked up to my roommate and I in the pouring rain and insisted on holding his umbrella over our soaking heads until we hailed a cab. There was also the woman with the Chanel purse, LV pantsuit and if I remember correctly, the Swaroski-encrusted manicure, who took twenty minutes on her smartphone to locate the address I was looking for and then walked me to it, all the while apologetically saying sorry as to how long it was taking. This isn't just politeness in the form of a tight smile and terse thank you like we've become used to; this is genuine care and I appreciated every lovely moment of it.
The food
As if this really needs any explaining -- read my previous post. Let's just say I have to hit the gym hard when I get back. I don't care if you don't make friends with salad...I'm going to be best-freaking-friends with salad once my plane hits the ground!
The parties
It's true, you can't go totally insane here because of all the laws, but you can still go 90%! And, like anyone who's on vacation of sorts, the anonymity helps with achieving that 90%. I've fallen into another phase of hardcore love for house music simply from dancing my bum off to Armin at 4 in the morning in the clubs, then until sunrise on my balcony or the beach....there's nothing quite like being totally in the moment listening to house beats while throwing back Moet on the beach. It's a feeling where everything seems consequence-less and just dandy -- and to feel that way even momentarily is memorizing. Although, when our landlord informed us one morning that the church had called to inquire as to "who was screaming about drugs at 4 a.m.?!" I remembered that of course, things aren't quite as consequence-less as they some times seem in my head...for the most part anyways!
Me Myself & I
Everyone...and I mean everyone needs time alone -- away from everything and everyone you're used to, to just be. Yes, it's clichéd to say we all "find ourselves" in our twenties but it's clichéd for a reason. It's because we all do, and however you choose to do that, whether it's a trip, or any other opportunity...do it.

While I'm dreading the three flights I have to take in just a few hours, I figure it's a small price to pay for the experience I've had here. In reference to the post I wrote after just arriving here...my black Samsonite is definitely the only baggage I'm leaving with tonight. And thank the heavens for that.
x

OMFG -- Take Me Away!

I've got Asia on the brain. There's a potential trip for me in the very near future and after almost two years since I was in Hong Kong, Tokyo and Malaysia last, it's consuming my thoughts. The culture, the food, the partying -- oh my! I'm hoping this trip gets finalized soon because I am thisclose squealing obnoxiously with excitement whenever anything to do with Asia comes up. (Are those rice crackers you're eating?!! EEEEEeeeeeeaaahhh!!!!)

A born and raised Toronto girl, Asia's always been a place I heard my family talk about all the time but somewhere I never had a tangible feel on. I had been once when little, but have no recollection of (well not no recollection but very little; mostly of Hello Kitty. I was two, go figure.) and then several times in recent years only to discover that the cities of Asia are even better in person than I had imagined all these years. They are spec-fucking-tacular, to put it mildly. The first time the plane I was on descended onto Hong Kong in the evening, I remember being absolutely entranced by the gazillion lights of a spectrum of colors that covered the incredible skyline of the city, all the while being in juxtaposition against majestic rolling mountains. A feeling of excitement crept up my insides; there was a whole new city -- no, a whole new side of the world -- I hadn't experienced yet and the feeling of the (awesome!) unknown and how you're going to conquer it is probably one of the best in the world -- right up there with the "Damn, I just sealed that business deal!" feeling and the "Damn, I look like a million bucks in my new dress and heels and just saw my ex-boyfriend wince in the corner!" feeling. 

The unknown is always exciting but there was something even better about walking around Hong Kong for me than that: it was like seeing everything I had heard about as a child come to life; a fairy tale come true. All the exotic tales of my childhood were suddenly living and breathing and it was beyond fantastic. As some one who adores cities, Asia is like the mecca of all mega-cities. The sheer amount of infrastructure and the pace at which it multiplies is a marvel in itself. It's progress at it's quickest speed and just to look around in the city can inspire one into pro-activity. It's state-of -the-art mind-boggling architecture next to old-world slummy apartments. It's slick, sterile, brand new malls surrounding shantytown-like markets. It's the newest Lamborghini speeding through the streets while rickshaws pace themselves along pedestrians. Old and new mesh seamlessly in Asia and especially in Hong Kong. I had the biggest urge to just reach out and touch everything when there for the first time as an adult, to take it all in and assure myself that yes, this endearingly noisy and perpetually crowded land was in fact real. 

A quick hint for all of you non-Asians or Canadian-born Asians who plan on traveling to the East: if you're not going to try new things, don't bother. I'm mainly speaking of food here because the food is...orgasmic. I haven't been back since becoming meatless and I can imagine it to be somewhat of a form of torture to be there and not be able to indulge in all the delicacies that waft from every corner. Everything that sounds weird or disgusting is usually the tastiest, and if you let your preconceived notions of what usually makes for good food stand in the way -- well you're missing out. Get rid of the overly-sterilized, overly-packaged Western notion of pizza and burgers food and dive right into preserved sausages, congee (rice soup) with duck egg and fish, beautifully fluffy egg tarts, hot-pot style meals, and a array of animal innards that, no matter how lovingly I describe, will just sound unappealing. To experience Hong Kong is to take it all in, visually and through its vast edibility. To get past the initial gross factor is to understand why the Chinese eat like this; they lust after certain textures and flavors now matter where from. Something I dearly miss in Toronto are Chinese desserts. Sure we have the little pastries that dole out sweet buns and whatnot, but in Hong Kong there are entire restaurants devoted to mango tapioca puddings, sweet lotus seed pastes and tofu done so delicately sweet you hardly know it's tofu. 

Foodie ogling is a great part of the city -- almost as good as the night life. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but I've walked around Hong Kong at 4 in the morning only to just realize it's the middle of the night because everything is still lit up and paved over. Unlike here in Toronto, you can go to the same club night after night and it's an entirely new crowd. Not just new, but vastly international. It's models in town for a couple months from America, business men from Europe, expats from the world over and locals. It's beyond refreshing to be meeting people who have incredibly different lives that the one you've lived and an easy way to meet them is out and about in the nightlife scene. The internationality of it all also attracts top-billing when it comes to club entertainment (no, not that kind!) with top DJ's like Guetta and Aoki ensuring the city stays in a perma-stage of dance fever. For those who worship house music like I do, it's a definite pro since the last time I tried to catch Guetta in Toronto, I was packed more tightly into ex-club Circa's "VIP" area than fat sardines in a too-small tin. If there's no room to dance, what's the point? ...Exactly. Hong Kong's nightlife is legendary in its variety but not cohesive enough in image to have generated a lifestyle, like for example Nikki Beach in St. Tropez. It's variety I'm on the hunt for right now -- or you know, a chance to see Guetta where I don't get hit in the face with badly done bleached extensions every time I want to bust a move!
Hong Kong is just one of the many cities I've been to in Asia and there are a countless number more I have yet to visit. Experiencing the new is essential to..well everything! If you don't know everything that's out there, how are you supposed to make decisions about what you want? Oh, it's like Biggie rapped ever-so-wisely all those years ago: and if you don't know, now you know! I'm sure he wasn't referring to my escapades around the world, but his words have meaning when it comes to experiences of anything you haven't before.

The Hong Kong skyline...just beautiful!

I can hardly wait to hop on a plane again and arrive in a world I know nothing about but want to dive into. Until then, I'll have to settle for being excited by the sight of rice crackers (chopsticks, Pocky sticks, Sailor Moon, you name it, it's all doing the trick right now!) and know that soon enough, I'll be blogging from across the world.
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