My family and I are on a two month long sojourn in Europe.
Our connecting flight in Hong Kong was to contain a two hour stop over before we were to haul our weary, jetlagged bodies back into that place of inexplicable boredom and restlessness known only as a 'plane'.
We went to board, tickets at the ready. Here we go. I stifle a yawn. It feels like I am averaging about one every ten seconds. Probably.
I look at the air hostess as she checks our tickets. I wonder how they get their up do's so perfect; do they go to some sort of hair school as part of air hostess-training? A crease forms on her forehead. She speaks in a strange language; the sounds are somehow both conflicting and complimentary. Dimly my scattered brain communicates with the rest of my body that something isn't right. My shoulder slumps even more under the weight of my carry on bag (always squish your bulkiest things in here so that you have more room in your suitcase. This seemed like a good idea at the time). We are being told to go to the information desk. We are at the wrong gate. Our connecting flight left an hour ago. There are no more seats on this flight.
Uh oh.
We try a panicky call to our travel agent, but realise it is two in the morning in Australia.
We had all taken out our sim cards and left them behind do we wouldn't get a massive phone bill.
This seemed like a good idea at the time, too.
A night spent on an airport bench.
Surprisingly comfortable, or perhaps Comfortably Numb as the song goes due to my extreme zombie-like state...
despite that creepy man who keeps staring at me and my sisters.
And staring,
And staring.
Hmm.
6:00 AM Hong Kong time
Finally we make it through to our travel agent using the dodgy airport wifi network.
We are booked on a flight for the same time tonight; midnight.
We may as well spend the day wandering the city rather than staring at the inside of an airport for twelve hours.
Despite not knowing which way is up at this point.
She'll be apples.
This is a photo diary of my day in Hong Kong,
which I treasure as a day of Beautiful Chaos;
a phrase that immediately springs to mind when I think of this city.
Matching mum and daughter.
Matching people always get me.
A sea of green.
Three lonely animals... limited space here!
Trapped.
A man and his trade in a Hong Kong backstreet... these guys are the true Backstreet Boys!
From cane baskets to plastic bags... Hong Kong has modernised in their transportation methods
Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dream;
Red, gold and green.
And the adventure continues!
P.S.
This is what super airport boredom will do to you:
Did you ever see that Knight Bus scene in Harry Potter?
I am a big believer in matching. I think that clashing prints, in a weird way, is sort of like matching them. If you keep a neutral back drop, like black, then technically your outfit is still matching on a colour base. The trick is to find some element between the pieces that ties them together. I've given it a whirl here, using polka dots as my staple. Using simple accessories with colours from your outfit ties it all together.
Even though these two pieces totally clash, they somehow work as one.
