the other day i had a surplus of something i never have: time.

i left my parenting course at 11 and headed down the hill to central, knowing my next appointment was at 1am. i had a few errands to run, all in the compact central area. and being in no apparent rush, i walked slowly. i did not jog towards traffic lights in hopes of making the green light, i did not jockey for position at the stop areas so that i could be the first when the little green man pinged on and told us all to walk. i got on escalators and i didn’t walk up or down them. i stopped at shop windows.

old habits die hard, it was tough to let go of habit and to cruise around, my mind a careful blank instead of wondering if i would catch the bus, if everyone else would be on time, but i did it. and it was very enjoyable. hong kong is a great place anyway, but when you take the time to stop and watch the faces, note the bags (from plastic takeaway bags holding steaming lunchboxes to gossamer string bags holding couture creations and credit card slips) and briefcases, the stride and set of shoulders…you are amazed afresh at this hong kong way.

today, i was in a rush. i zipped around people, look back alleys as shortcuts, passed everyone on my way out of the MTR. i’m not rude, but i am brisk. and although i know it is better for my mental health to be slow and luxurious, never to rush…when you rush in hong kong you really feel a part of the city. there is certainly competitiveness to get the taxi, to command control on the very inside of the sidewalk, but you understand that everyone is under time constraints, or believes they are. you would never hear someone in hong kong saying, "hey what’s your rush?" because the concept of being short of time is accepted as the norm. when you rush, you are in rome, doing as the locals do.

two weeks ago, i was the rusher’s nightmare, i was mummy travelling with walking kids on the sidewalk. i had one arm twisted in front of me, and then other behind me. sela and carys were in front, each holding a finger and each other’s hand, while jasper got the back hand. people were streaming around me, always finding time to share, of course, but also impatient that i was moving so slowly and taking up so much sidewalk space. i am so grateful that i didn’t have a massive diaper bag! the mummy walk is similar to the mummy shop, continual commentary, trying to jolly the kids on so they don’t register that they are walking and not allowed to run. and assuring them you are fine, and so are they, while throwing useless trivia at them. having to stop every 20 meters or so and wipe my hand on my skirt…jasper has the sweatiest sloppiest hands.

unintentionally slow, hindered and slow, and rushed, there is part of me for each state, and i enjoy them all. i know i will miss slow-mummy when it is all over, but for now, she is my least favourite walking companion, mainly because i hate getting jostled by the hurried, and i hate not being able to throw things at the people who (accidentally) bump into my kids. (please don’t give me points for not throwing items and the kid bumpers…restraint isn’t what is holding me back, rather because my fingers are gripped by the victims).