Just Sunday

We've been talking about it for the longest time.

We, the hot pot gang, talking about the bubbly brunch, for a change. This "really good" bubbly brunch at the Sheraton.

A tad off our mark, especially when we've already been whining about spending too much on hot pot. But I suppose anything just so I stop taking and showing pictures of nothing but hot pot. Anything goes.


Sunday brunch is really a bad idea methinks.

Wait... let me take that back. Sunday brunch is not a bad idea at all.

Sunday champagne brunch is.


Out of the original eight, only half made it to the Sheraton Sunday morning. Out of the half who actually made it, one half couldn't even bear the smell of alcohol that morning, not to mention the taste. Of the remaining two, one's not quite a keen drinker, the other is and got quite upset at another for leaving him alone with the all-you-can-drink champagne.

Of course I made it to the Sheraton. But Simon got upset with me.

Ouch, that did not make the hangover any more bearable.



The other "really good" thing, other than the champagne deal, was supposedly the food - in particular, the oysters.

But the oysters sucked big-time.

Neither fresh nor juicy, some even had a terrible lingering taste. We tried them three times, and we wished we had learnt our lesson the first round. I swear to my god, I will never again eat oysters anywhere else in the world that's not oyster-haven.

There wasn't much choice on the buffet table. I kept moving from the sashimi platter to the seafood platter, back to the sashimi, then back to the prawns again. The cuts of sashimi did not do much justice to its flavor - though there wasn't much flavor to justify in the first place. The prawns were huge and steamed and chilled - but they weren't quite totally fresh nor juicy.

The only savior was the grilled sea bass, which had to be ordered from the menu and actually turned out really good.

And I couldn't even finish one glass of bubbles.

Verdict: I don't think you would ever see me in that restaurant anymore. =/




The truth is, every morning I wake with a headache after a bad night of alcohol overdose, I crave for only one thing from the moment I open my eyes.

Soup. Hot, hot soup. Not the Campbell kind of creamy mushroom or tomato soup. But the real Chinese kind of soup. Like the chicken soups Mom cooks. Maybe it's just a psychological effect. But everyone has his or her own hangover cure, no?

Anyway, I woke up Sunday morning with that craving. I sat almost three hours at the brunch table, still having that craving. I walked out of the restaurant with half a stomach full of bad oysters and chilled prawns and mediocre sashimi - still having that hot-soup craving.

In other words, my hangover hadn't been cured.

I could've gone straight home again to sleep it over, but I thought that would be another Sunday wasted. Since I was out, I decided I would stay out just a little more.

Me and Simon ended up walking around aimlessly until I suggested (more like insisted) we head towards east TST. I'd seen some al fresco cafes and pubs there. We could chill there.

I couldn't even finish my bottle of beer, but sitting there in the open, feeling the breeze (especially when the double-deckers whizzed past us), looking towards the harbor (and the very fogged up skyline across), chatting frivolously with a friend... I realize I have never quite had such a peaceful time outside in Honks. Sure, in Singers, there are plenty of places I could just sit and stone and chill and be at peace. In the Honks? Never.

Well, I take that back. I lied. I've had such peaceful moments before. Not aplenty, but enough. Enough for me to realize happiness comes to you in the most unexpected and subtle ways.

Ah. Well. Enough.


Anyways, Simon got a call an hour later, and we found ourselves walking toward the subway, on our way to Tin Hau.

I don't know what came over me, but I still resisted the bed, and I decided I would follow and pop by a Japanese carnival.

Japanese carnival = Japanese food... how to resist?!



I think the brunch must have left me really unsatisfied, 'cos I didn't say "no" when Si suggested a "really good" congee for dinner.

"Congee? I don't think I can eat any more."
"But it's only congee!"
"But it's practically one bowl of rice!"
"No! It's only half a bowl!"

"Really good" congee? I think I won't trust the boys that easily anymore.


A frivolous Sunday, it seemed. But I came to some realization that day.

And that is, I don't really quite know my new home very well. I ought to be ashamed of myself, really. Just a simple afternoon moving from one place to the next to another, and I walked along streets I never knew existed, saw buildings that intrigued me, discovered new basketball courts, spied restaurants and eateries that interested me.

I even found out where the Central Library is! Hurray!

I've always wanted to run away from here, every time I feel upset and energy-less, every time I feel I need a fresh and different environment to find myself again.

I think this is what I can do, if I can't run away.

I can always pretend to be a tourist on Sundays. After all, there must be enough MTR stations : )