Rhythm of life

Today, I had a midday appointment with my traditional-Chinese-medicine doctor. Afterward, I went to a local teahouse to grab some lunch. The place was crowded, and people were lining up for seats or to pay their bills. After 2 p.m., the crowds began to ease. The official lunch hour for white-collar employees in Hong Kong is between 1 p.m. and 2 p.m.

Hong Kong teahouse

I finished my late lunch, then went to a fast-food restaurant. I had arranged to meet my friend in about an hour, so preferred not to go home and then come back all the way again. I brought my computer and decided to do some work in this restaurant, where I could stay for as long as I liked.

The place was quiet; there were plenty of tables for me to choose from. I worked for about an hour, until 3:45 p.m. Again, as in the teahouse, streams of people were gathered near the cashier. Yes, of course, I reminded myself, local folks, particularly those engaged in hard labor, traditionally have a break at 3:45, and this fast-food place—affordable—has become their haven for a break.

Rhythm of life in a city.

Such is the rhythm of life in a city. If I had not been there, I would not have felt it so strongly. There is rush hour on campus, too, during lunch, but the afternoon break is never observed so strictly. This is so very interesting to me. It reminds me of the times in the past decade or two when the construction industry was very strong in Hong Kong.

Yes, I am kind of reminiscing. Just so you know, research has shown that age has nothing to do with the preference or tendency to reminisce.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International. 

Travels and staying green

With the increasing frequency of natural disasters and the constant reminders about our endangered environment, who can afford not to be conscious of depleting resources and global warming? I have become more aware of how environmentally unfriendly I am when I travel. Even if I do not count carbon emissions from flying, I am still ruthlessly taking advantage of the world’s limited resources.

Hotels, for example. No matter how many times I place the green card on my bed indicating that I do not need to have my towels changed every day, and even though I hang up my towels to make sure that they are not the floor, I still get fresh, clean towels every day. I eat meals that are served in generous portions and end up not finishing them. There is no use taking a doggie bag, because I may not be able to finish the food when I am back at the hotel; I may have other plans or may be leaving the next day. I use soap, paper cups, Kleenex and so on, but leave the unused portions to be thrown away.

I take free souvenirs or buy souvenirs that are of no particular use. I don’t need them, but I take these little presents just the same. Because these little gifts please me and I take them, conference exhibitors continue to give them out for free. I take promotional printed items. I hardly read them, or just browse through them before tossing them in the garbage. I may bring home only about one-fifth of the materials I receive. Worse still, I hardly use even that small fraction. I am as hypocritical as those crusaders to the Antarctic, whom I have criticized.

I often wonder about those environmentalists who claim they love Mother Nature, but go on exploring the Antarctic—or Arctic—to document the destruction that humankind has done to our pristine land. Many of those who have visited those remote places are not scientists, but advocates who want to see firsthand the damage that has been done. Why do they feel the need to be there, to be seen in pictures of themselves in the Antarctic, before they can promote its protection?

As I reflect on my lifestyle, particularly when I travel, I realize that I am no better than those about whom I grumble.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.