Losing face (丢脸) in China is likely one of the more disastrous situations you can find yourself in. More disastrous than an accidental stranger boob-graze, or even drunk texting your ex – both of which would likely result in losing face (since you’re somehow a grand representation of your entire family every time you leave the house), but are not nearly as bad as the red-faced shame that comes with 丢脸. Fortunately, in Sydney, my Mum doesn’t particularly care if I tell my friends that she doesn’t know how to turn on a computer (slight exaggeration – she is now in the process of learning how to print things… love you, Mum), so today, I’m largely concerned with saving my actual face – enter stage right: the single pun used by every beauty article in every Asian publication. Ever.
Now, before we get all up in arms, I have plenty of sweaty, coconut-y, epic-skied photos to indulge in as the weeks wear on, but I thought it better to maintain some form of real time, as per the nature of a ‘blog’ (judging by Instagram, I have a bit of catching up to do). The difference in humidity between Phuket and Hong Kong around this time of year hits you in the face as soon as you wake up the next morning and feel like your skin is cracking. Indeed, Hong Kong’s infamous Summer perspiration may even exceed that of Thailand’s – particularly when jammed in the fragrant armpit of a fellow commuter on the MTR, but come December, one couldn’t chase that armpit faster. Or perhaps something more hydrating. While in Phuket, I hardly exercised any form of beauty routine aside from consuming litres of young coconuts and cleansing before bed. In Hong Kong, green tea replaced coconuts and late night dumplings replaced Aesop, so Cheryl came to the rescue with her facial hugs and awesome packaging.
More HK snaps coming super soon! Now, in search of Sichuan chilli dinner (where I’m currently freezing my face off in the mountains).
*I whole-heartedly take this back now that I’ve flown in and out of Chengdu – Hong Kong, please forgive me.