Let’s see, in my last blog entry I was telling you the secrets to perfect macorons. Two months passed by without a sound from me, and now I’m writing in a tiny little serviced apartment in Hong Kong’s SoHo district, sans dog, with a pot of hot soup simmering on the stove, waiting for Jason’s return from work.
Yes, life can be funny sometimes. Just when I thought I had everything planned out (I was going to graduate from Le Cordon Bleu and open up a cooking studio/language school at home, teaching French pastry in English or Japanese, depending on the students’ wishes) Jason decided to take a job in Hong Kong. Within a month we sold most of our furniture and the car, packed up everything, and voila! We are in Hong Kong!
I don’t quite yet know how I feel about the move, but let’s just say I am experiencing a sense of true sadness leaving Tokyo, something that never happened the last two times I moved (from US to Singapore, and from Singapore to Tokyo). I don’t think I fully admitted to myself that we were leaving Tokyo for good the whole time I was selling off furniture and household appliances. It didn’t hit me until the captain of our flight announced the final descent into Hong Kong airport. At that moment it was like a sledgehammer hit me in the chest and the wind was knocked out of me. That’s the moment that I realized that Tokyo is no longer my city. It made me want to cry.