Right, that’s it. I’ve had a jolly nice time in Hong Kong over the past two years but, just like Fat Pang, I must now make like a pot of Jasmine tea and leave. Hopefully my departure from this Special Administrative Region of China will be a tad smoother and less tear-sodden than that of the British colonialists who bid bai bai 17 years ago. It’ll certainly be less controversial:
Now I’ve read some pretty self-indulgent “leaving China” twaddle from various flacks and hacks since I’ve been here and I have no desire to add to it. So instead here’s an easy-to-digest list of highs and lows.
Love it when you move in and it seems so QUIET!
Hate it when your upstairs neighbour turns out to be a 15 year old girl who spends her evenings screaming at her family. Every freaking night. Oh, and now the bulldozers have started. Brilliant.
Love the MTR – anywhere in Hong Kong for around a quid.
Hate getting stuck behind someone standing on the escalator (wrong side) watching TV on their phone.
Love listening to my neighbours have extravagant noisy sex at 3am; hate it when she leaves at 3.05 with a packed bag and tears in her eyes. She just did that by the way. Poor girl.
Hate it when it looks like you’ll be late for an important meeting because there are no fucking seats on the mini bus.
Love it when, yup, you always get one and actually make it with several minutes to spare.
Hate it when you meet a lovely bunch of people a few weeks before the big off
Nah, there’s no positive here, unless they turn out to be annoying cunts
Hate not being able to see as far as Kowloon on what should be a normal, sunny day. Cheers Shenzhen, you dirty bugger.
Love being able to hike up the peak from my door in just 40 minutes.
Hate not being able to do it for three months straight because it’s still bloody raining.
Hate standing on Wyndham Street with generic house music raping my ears.
Love bunker rave-in-a-cave parties. Shhhhh.
Love no frills Cantonese food at dirt cheap prices
Hate Greek restaurants serving pasta, Thai tapas and everything else in Soho. Oh and when that local family run Canto joint is forced to close and gets replaced by a poncy jewelry shop.
Hate being cooped up in my tiny flat with the mould and mosquitos.
Love jumping off a boat into sea as warm as bath water. With a Tsingtao in my hand. And a slice of lemon drizzle cake.
Death Noodle 