Sitting in the business lounge of Hong Kong International Airport, I can't help but reflect on the time I've spent abroad. My stay in Manila was fun, exciting, challenging, at times frustrating, but also quite productive. I've had a number of experiences and have written a lot during the past three months. Most of my experiences have been good ones (people I've met and befriended; places I've seen) and some not so good (my run-ins with corrupt cab drivers; having my iPhone stolen). Still, I don't regret making the journey, though I'd really like my phone back.

Living in a third world country for a period of time will make you aware of certain things you wouldn't normally hear of or be exposed to. It probably sounds trite, but I have a new-found appreciation for the conveniences of living in New York, though I still intend to move out of the city at some point. Having access to a large variety of good quality food almost 24 hours a day, for example. That's a big one. Being single, I buy a lot of frozen vegetables because otherwise I would throw out a lot of food due to spoilage. When I was in Manila, I was only able to find frozen broccoli once when I went to the supermarket. Frozen. I would think frozen vegetables would be a staple in a place where so much produce need to be shipped from other countries. Some of the frozen foods were rife with frost and had obviously been thawed and refrozen. Needless to say, this was only one of numerous challenges I faced in adjusting to my new environment.

Another adjustment I had to make was in how things were done. There was a lack of urgency almost everywhere I went. This was something to which I, as a native New Yorker--albeit a very laid-back one--was unaccustomed. The one exception seemed to be the guy at the 7-Eleven downstairs from my apartment. That guy hustled.

Then there was my first haircut. I had no complaints with the haircut itself, but I was startled and almost shocked to the point of feeling violated when at the end the barber pushed me forward and started massaging my shoulders and upper back. Apparently, that's customary. That's nice. I think I'll pass. Now, if it was a pretty girl giving me the haircut...

Now for a more detailed experience. This took place early in September:

I stepped into the elevator with this guy I've seen in the gym downstairs on occasion. He's a muscular, bald guy with a goatee. Anyway, we ended up getting off on the same floor and walking down the same hall. We started talking. His name is Alex. He's 45 and living here with his wife, a Filipino woman named Wilma. He met her here 25 years ago. We didn't talk much and then returned to our respective apartments.

Then, a few days later, I ran into him in the gym, and we started talking again. He's Serbian and runs a private bodyguard business in Europe and is trying to extend his business down here. Most of his employees are ex-Israeli soldiers. His wife showed up. I met her, and we all talked for a few minutes, then they had to leave. Up until this point, I hadn't seen anyone in my section of this floor. It was actually a little eerie, and I've already got ideas for some kind of ghost story.

One evening, as I was locking the door of my apartment and getting ready to go to work, I looked up and this security guard dressed in a white uniform stood about twelve feet away from me. I'm usually fairly aware of my surroundings here, but I did just wake up and was running a little late. As far as I knew, the hall had been vacant.

"Good evening, sir," he said in his thick accent.

"Good evening," I replied. It may have been apparent that I was a little startled, but I don't know. 

"Can I help you with anything?" I asked. My apartment is at the very end of the hall near the fire exit, and I could see no justifiable reason he should be here at this time.

"No, sir," he said. Then he walked past me, opened the fire exit door, and entered the stairwell.

The incident struck me as beyond odd. It seemed just surreal.

The hallway was hot and humid as usual, and I wore my glasses. I proceeded to the elevator bank and hit the button.  Insects buzzed around the light fixtures, but they looked like little stars bouncing around.  At first, I didn't realize they were insects at all. At first, I thought someone was playing with a laser pointer.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside, and it was literally frosty. The mirrors in the elevator were fogged up. When I reached the ground floor and left the elevator, of course my glasses fogged up as well.

As they say, it's in the details.

Labels: Hong Kong, Manila