Final! Final! No More! Goodbye! Final!

That's how one store in Wan Chai says, "Going out of business sale".
The bamboo scaffolding is gone. I actually saw some of the dismantling from the inside and was stunned at the method. There were several men climbing around outside my 26th floor window with absolutely no ropes, pully systems, safety nets or spiderman glue. I didn't see anyone fall. Although I did see someone about to jump off a building. Vera and I were out shopping for props and we saw someone on the roof of a building, surrounded by police and their giant inflatable device. We didn't linger there...
Well, now that I've brightened your day, I won't ruin it with the gruesome details of seeing a man jump in front of a bus. Hong Kong is grating on me. And so, like anyone would, I've started juggling.
There's a group of people who get together and juggle every Monday night. Kazumi (my new roommate) and I decided to go last week. The group's website just said "meet in Victoria Park" which is comparable to saying "meet in Central Park" with no further direction. But we figured that a juggling group would be easy to spot. It's not like we were searching for a Quaker meeting. About an hour later, we entered some sort of portal in the park where there were people with swords, women doing fan dances, and our long-sought-after jugglers. When we approached them and asked to join, they just stared at us, completely silent. [Dallas, add this to our collection of awkward stories (less awkward than saying "Happy Easter" to a Muslim, but awkward still)] Apparently, only one guy there really spoke English, so when he saw the awkward staredown, he came over to save the day and taught us the basics of juggling. From then on, we were accepted into the fold and we both plan to go back tomorrow night.
I'm also coping by taking dance classes. They're mostly conducted in Cantonese, which is great for learning things like left, right, and body parts. Lowintry, my ballet teacher, is what you might call elderly, but she can kick over her head. She probably can't kick over my head since I'm such an ogre. I don't blend in very well. My favorite is on the MTR (subway) when it's packed but I can still see over everyone's head to the end of the train.
And work...is work. Again, no day off since last post, so no amazing pictures. We have our first Penguin show this Friday, and the script, in its current and 9th reincarnation, is still not where we want it. And I seem to be the only one with a real concern about this.
Pork = jew-yuk. I remember this by thinking about how Jewish people can't eat pork, so if they were offered any, they'd say "yuk."