You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Hong Kong is a labyrinthine jungle of a place. Footbridges, crosswalks, and metal fences keep the pedestrian traffic from straying too close to the cars, buses, and trams. One finds oneself all-too-easily lost, which I’m suspecting is sometimes the point. This consumer-driven emporium seduces you with feng shui curves, beaming its baubles for you to gawk and awe, then surprises you with a dead end; this was not the path you were supposed to be on. Buy something and feel better?

Gone are the days of not needing to know either Mandarin or Cantonese. The Chinese aren’t taking that simple act of subservience to another culture anymore. And yet, they are all so obsessed with learning English. Know more than the other guy and he can’t dominate you again. Like the scrawny kid on the playground, China has learned how to fight and it’s making Hong Kong its own. (This does not bode well for yours truly, as I neither speak any dialect related to Chinese, nor am I qualified for upper-management, where the rumor of not needing the local language actually applies).

Hong Kong itself remains a cultural smorgasbord, at least on the island. Expats and locals rub elbows to the music of the modern and eat - all the time. Drinking is not as rampant as it was in Saigon, as bar owners have embraced the idea of paying for ambience, not just the contents of your glass. Curiously, this overcharging has made the outside of Lan Kwai Fong’s 7-11the hottest drink spot in town. Thank the proverbial deities for cheap public transportation, as pre-drinking is now a mandate from your ever-shrinking wallet.

Maybe I have gotten a bit lost in Hong Kong. I have been driven a bit wayward from any kind of career that I actually want to have. But surely, life experience counts for something. Right?