Cosima Underwater

Remember the nice photos I posted of my newly setup veggie bed?

Well, the arugula has been eaten by a dozen caterpillars a few months ago. They looked beautiful, grass green with bright yellow stripes on their back. When I discovered them it was much too late. A woman from the local gardening society told me that they would turn into beautiful butterflies. Little bastards!

They also ate the Kailan (Chinese greens). The Japanese cucumber and string beans climbed up the bamboo sticks and look pretty, but there is not a single pickle nor bean in sight.

The surprising winners are the cocktail tomatoes and carrots from seeds I bought in Germany. Thirty juicy and sweet tomatoes and a dozen small but very orange carrots. I also put supermarket ginger into the ground and it sprouted. However the lemon grass, which was such a success in Dubai, withered and died.

I knew it would happen. Gardening is about learning and sticking with the winners. It takes time and experience. Next year my compost will be ready and I will dig it into the very clayie veggie bed. Every morning I will search for caterpillars. I will construct a raised bed, because tropical downpours will turn level veggie beds into ponds (with tiny cute frogs). And I will plant German carrots and tomatoes and maybe have a second go at Japanese cucumbers.

While the caterpillars munch the rest of my veggies, I watch a BBC series Around the world in 80 gardens. It’s enlightening. Gardening is like religion, so different around the world, but the concept is the same, we all like it and it makes us happy, in a weird BDSM kind of way.

I have been fifteen years in Hong Kong, but having this little garden around the house has been such a pleasure and new discovery. The veggie garden is a work in progress, but the rest, the so-called weeds, the plants that just sprout up after each rain, they are so pretty. The ones I like, I transplant to prime spots where they will strive and grow.

Whereas gardening in Dubai was about watering thrice a day, gardening in Hong Kong is about cutting down plants you don’t like at least once a month. I feel like Tarzan in a jungle with a machete… ok, huge -made in Germany- garden scissors. I also spray myself with “Deep Woods” mosquito repellent. It lasts for about 15 minutes until a colony of these little devils break out in laughter and descent on me.

And then they are the palm-sized spiders, and the creepy crawlies in the compost pile, and at least three geckos inside the house. I was raised by a mum who threw the spiders from the ceilings under our bath tub to eat the silver fish. Nature is about balance, and we are a part of it.

Little man and I observed our bedroom gecko tonight. George the Slow climbed up the wall, ambled past the curtains, and then stumbled behind the TV. The insect population in our bedroom will be kept at a minimum, my task in the equilibrium will be to wipe the gecko shit away.

Tomorrow little man and I will leave for Berlin where we will take care of my Dad’s garden. He is in hospital and half of his right foot is amputated, but in spite of this, and because of this, his tiny allotment garden is Eden and I will help my mum to take care of it. I am so ready for the pleasure of a temperate garden in summer. A bit of grass cutting and watering, how hard can it be?

The previous year was not a good one. I can tell from stepping on the scale. I have gained 8 kilos. Don’t know about you, but I gain weight for two reasons. When I am unhappy or when I am pregnant. I am not pregnant.

Other mothers-to-be crave pickled cucumbers, I craved Moevenpick ice cream. It was a delicious pregnancy. When little man was out, the scale was where it had never been before at 80 kilos (wow!). Ok, about four kilos went to Elsie (left breast) and Luise (right breast) to feed insatiable tiny man, but the rest attached to the bum, the belly, and (most bothersome of all) the face. I am pretty tall for a girl at 5′8, but 80 kilos dragged me down to snail’s pace. I felt tired and had no energy. Having a baby and a job was stressful and left little time, but after two years I draw the line. I started to go to the gym, even if it cut sleep from three hours to one. Exercise had always helped to loose extra kilos. Not this time. It gave me more appetite. Now I was 80 kilos and had the stamina to run 5 kilometers every day. Great, but not what I had hoped for.

A chat with my brother-in-law who had lost 20 kilos and a little bit of googling on the internet brought me to this site. My brother-in-law told me that he lost weight by counting calories. He had tried the Hollywood star diet (only tropical fruits) and other gimmicks, but nothing really worked until he wrote down what he ate and limited his calorie intake every day.

On the side, I normally hate my brother-in-law. He has about half a dozen girlfriends at any given time, a terrible temper, and an ego to match. However, I value his diet advice. Someone who has the need to attract women a dozen a night ought to know.

So I found the Hacker’s diet, and it made sense. I downloaded the Excel spreadsheets and adjusted them for my needs (grams instead of ounces, goat cheese instead of American cheese, etc.). I lost 15 kilos, was my pre-pregnancy self, and felt great.

Then 2009 came. Can we all agree that it was not the best of years? I was in Dubai, and hated it. Somehow food became comfort and a curse. 65 kilos, 68 kilos, 70 kilos (gosh), 73 kilos (no!!!).

So I am back to what worked before, an Excel spreadsheet where I put in all the food I eat, and I strictly stop at 1500 calories per day. It’s easy, geeky science. A woman in the prime of her years needs about 2000 calories a day. If you eat more you gain weight. If you eat less you loose weight. And depending on what you eat, 1500 calories does not need to mean a growling stomach. If you eat lots of veggies your stomach is going to feel full all day, and even a bit of chocolate is ok.

You may think it’s strange and over the top, but I know it works and I know what the alternative is. My dad is 73 years old. He is the best Dad in the world. He has been overweight for most of his adult life. Not obese, always active, just with a little pot belly the sun shone on. But diabetes runs in the family. In his sixties he began to need insulin injections, then the pain in his legs started, now the nerve damage is so bad that one of his toes may need to be amputated.

I am worrying about my Dad, trying to get him doctor’s appointments with the best specialists, wanting the best for him, but in the back of my mind I know that everyone of us needs to take responsibility for his/her own health. So while I am prep talking Dad over the telephone, I am busy putting the calories of my lunch into an Excel spreadsheet.

It would also be nice to be able to breathe again in my favorite pair of jeans.

In writing it looks so innocent, but in reality rain is a wonder and at the same time an extraordinary problem in the desert. It has been raining non-stop since yesterday, and in non-desert places the non-stop drizzle with a little bit of wind would be nothing to write home about, but here it is.

It’s the first drench in more than half a year. It made all the dusty plants turn into a vibrant green. Nature is a marvelous thing, wondrous, and so efficient and adaptable.

On the downside, the birds who where in heavy flirting mood just a few days ago huddle together on my window sill looking sad and cold. The swimming pool will overflow in less than half an inch. The streets are lakes. And drivers who have never heard of aquaplaning lie in the hospital. No drains in the desert. All these new, shiny buildings, built with 60 billion (or was it double that amount?) of debt, seem to soak up the the rain, not repel it.

Tomorrow the movers will come, and pack up our stuff. They may have to swim.

Censorship is a strange thing. The newspapers write that the economy is picking up. Word on the street is that Dubai owes roughly 10 billion to various Japanese companies. They built the metro. Maybe that’s why only a handful of stations have opened. The Koreans finished the tallest building in the world, the Burj Dubai, but they have stopped work on a bridge crossing the Dubai Creek. I don’t think the news will get better, it will get worse. Next to go are the fancy restaurants and shops.

My Bavarian Beauty will travel to Beirut. A Lithuanian girl wanted to buy the automotive marvel, but didn’t get a loan. Local banks have no money to lend. So a Lebanese man bought her for his son in Beirut. Cash, no questions asked. I think he got a very good deal. I would have loved to bring her to Hong Kong, but her steering wheel is on the wrong side.

We will be in Berlin in a couple of days, where it is forecasted to be -10 Celsius. That will be a mighty change to the system.

I have been thinking about sayings. They are sometimes right, more often wrong, and they stick in our minds. Maybe more in German minds. The German language is full of them and we use them in everyday language at least five times a day. They are a poetic form of stereotypes.

I am sure you have heard of Dubai over the last few days. I could have told you the first time I visited this place, and that was more than a year ago. It was obvious. Maybe it was only obvious to people like me, middle-aged, lived through the Asian crisis (by far not as many empty high-rises than here), and never prone to believe in snazzy advertising (highest skyscrapers, man-made islands in weird shapes etc, etc).

Last night we were sitting outside, drinking French wine and one of the few friends I made here was saying that the last seven years in Dubai were hard, but she would not want to miss them. It taught her things that she would never have known had she stayed in her country of birth (small,  European, democratic, with a functioning legal system).

On the one hand I agree. I am glad I came here. We are healthy, not in jail, and still have the money to get out of here.  Only one week to go. And it made me thankful. I know that I have been lucky. Your country of birth determines your fate in life. Dubai is full of people off much worse than me, trying to better themselves. I have the feeling that they will soon run out of time to achieve that.

Money. Money. Money. Greed and fear. It’s disgusting what men and women do to each other to get more, and more, and more, and more of it. For some there is no limit. May they choke on it.

Here are the sayings, I have heard during the last week:

Never believe anything until it is officially denied.

Lying makes the world a much kinder place. We all should do it more often.

Don’t throw stones if you sit in a glass house.

Money does not buy happiness.

Men get better with age (with a ;) at the end, why that? … lol)

The tallest building being built is a sure indicator for a property bust.

What is your favorite saying of the day?

Call it female intuition, but I knew that Dubai would not be home. Looks like we are out of here very soon. It wasn’t love at first sight, and it wasn’t love at second sight, but I am grown up enough to know that it was partly my own fault that prevented Dubai from taking a place in my heart.

Most people here don’t see it as their home, and that is part of the problem. It is a place to make money. It is a transient place. Most people don’t care enough to make it a better place. To those who do, you have my utmost respect, and I wish you success.

Here is what I loved about Dubai:

1) M., the cat. I will try to bring you to HK. It will not be easy. It will be expensive. But you meowed into our heart, and I will try to make sure that your bowl will always be full to the end of your days.

2) My garden. I wish I could bring all my plants to HK. I know it’s folly to water a garden in this kind of climate, but to care for paradise for a year was heaven.

3) The friends little man found. Little man wants to return to HK, because it’s his home. But he wants to take his two best friends from Dubai with him. I am trying to convince their parents that HK is the place to be.

4) The Indian bread baker in Satwa. Sir, I can taste that you love what you do, and in the queue in front of your tiny store, I could see that we are all one people.

5) It’s shallow, I know, but I fell in love with a Bavarian beauty. There were a lot of dicey situations on Dubai roads, but you always brought us home safe. I hope you will bring the same kind of luck to the people who will drive you next.

6) The Thai fast food restaurant in Ibn Battuta Mall. Your spicy shrimp-bean stir-fry made my stomach leap with joy. Little man loves your shrimp balls. Thank you!

7) Ms. J, I know that you went through hell, being a mum myself. Loosing your child is the worst you can experience. Please know that you made a difference to those who you cared for. You are a marvelous teacher, and I wish you happiness.

I don’t know if you will understand, but I am afraid of returning home. Paradise is were you imagine it to be, and I hope HK will come close.

… it’s getting cooler… winter is coming… almost sweater weather.

104 Fahrenheit sounds so much more “real feel” than 40 Celsius. I made the mistake to step outside around noon today. Boy, what a mistake. My “real feel” temperature was close to boiling. What’s the use to report the temperature in the shade if no shade is to be had?

I cought the resident beast of prey (M. the cat) in the last stages of hunting a bird today. I wonder where he hid his catch, or whether he ate it. He only ate 2 small cans of “Fancy Feast” (“Tender Beef Bits” and “Chicken in Gravy”) today, which suggests the later.

M concentrating in the shade before the hunt. In the distance: papaya and kumquat tree waiting for the lazy gardener to get a move on to plant them in the ground.

Since I mentioned my Ficus Elastica earlier, I thought I show it to you.

Thanks to the house guest who is a professed non-green-thumb and screams when seeing a single ant, but nevertheless did a wonderful job of watering the garden during the desert summer, it has grown quite a lot since I freed it from its plastic pot and planted it in the ground.

I am also very proud of my lemongrass (raised from three sickly and dry looking stalks from the supermarket).

Tastes great in chicken soup or everywhere else you want lemon scent without tartness. Today, I made iced lemon grass, ginger and jasmin tea…yummy!

Baby succulents in self-made compost, which I will plant out in two to three weeks to slowly replace the water-hungry lawn in the front yard. (written by novice desert gardener swelling with pride)

Above the wonderful corner hill in my walled garden. The stray cats of the neighborhood used to sleep there during hot noon until M. hissed and showed them who’s territory it is.

Just around the corner is the wonder of nature: my two compost piles. I first bought the green plastic beast for an inappropriate amount of money, because it hid rotting kitchen waste and gardening waste from the phobic house guest and neighbor who is also my landlord (you never know). It soon was too small, and I built a second compost next to it (chicken wire and wood sticks from Ace Hardware). I can recommend it to whoever has a little space in his/her backyard. You feel great because you reduce waste, get fertile compost, and don’t have to run to the waste containers so often.

Today. little man and I aerated (fancy term for mixing with a gardening fork) the two piles. We found lots of ants, termites, and other insects which will help to turn our kitchen and gardening waste into fertile soil. It was fun to guess “what was it?”, mixed with a little excited “yuck! I don’t want to know”.

Asia and the Mediterranean Sea next to each other. The small Frangipani tree I planted half a year ago along with the Aloe Vera(?) plant in the blue planter from Croatia (smuggled in in a wet kitchen towel and a plastic bag).

After little man and I worked hard in the garden we had fun in the pool. I know it sounds very luxurious to have your own pool, but if you knew the trouble (why is it so green? again? what the hell? yuck, I don’t want to remove the bloated, smelly mouse/gecko/beetle out of the filter) you would gladly recline. So we deserved it… double time.

Our  house with pool is rented. If I would own my own house, I would never built a chlorine pool (you can’t imagine the chemicals and work going into that diabolical thing, not to mention the dead wildlife in the filter), if you want to swim in your backyard this makes much more sense.

… he is a mammal.

Proof 1:   He is a good kisser.

Proof 2:   He doesn’t wiggle when hugged tightly.

… and it was wonderful to feel his heart beat.

Meeting “Lennox” was a birthday present for little man, but because little man is still a bit too young to go alone, mama got a special treat as well. We had a wonderful day.