Hong Kong "And then one day you find, - Pink Floyd, "Time" I walked through the new Chek Lap Kok concourse, marveling at its shimmering floor and soaring roof above me. No lines awaited me at immigration. I recalled Hong Kong's old airport at Kai Tak, where one literally sprinter like OJ Simpson from the gate to immigration to avoid the inevitable long lines in that antiquated and cramped terminal. Ten years ago I walked down the short ramp out into the greeting area at Kai Tak, mesmerized by the sea of faces and the cacophony of Cantonese with a smattering of English, Tagalog, Hindi, and Mandarin. Bewildered, I finally spied my aunt and her driver who took me out to their home in Repulse Bay, where I lived for three months. My parents grew up in Hong Kong and I planned to spend six months here working at my uncle's bank while waiting to start law school in the fall, and perhaps reconnect with my withered Chinese roots. (I thank my Uncle Jimmy for his generous invitation ten years ago.) I ended up remaining in Hong Kong for five years. My life changed completely. I stumbled into a career where I forged professional and material success. I fell in love, got married; then fell out of love and got divorced. I met a group of kindred spirits, the kind of people that thronged to Hong Kong in the early Nineties - and they remain lifelong friends. I left Hong Kong in New York, accepting a transfer from my employer to work in the Big Apple at the end of 1997, shortly after the handover of HK to Chinese control. |
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Ten years pass and the prodigal son returns! Taking the the world's longest contiguous escalator to the Mid-Levels; I strolled past my first flat on Castle Road. The place barely fit a twin mattress into the each of two closet sized bedrooms. A kitchen, living room and bathroom filled the remainder of this 350 sq ft shoebox. Sitting on the couch, my feet reached the TV. I spent a few months here with my best friend Steve, where we killed many a brain cell drinking bottles of Tsingtao and watching Simpsons on tape.
Back then, my ex-pat friends and I clamored for tapes from family in the States, and we held TV parties to a packed house anytime a tape of Simpsons and Seinfeld arrived. Infatuated with the world of finance, I wanted more than anything to work for an American bulge bracket firm. Everyday, Morgan, Goldman and Merrill figured prominent in the financial headlines as the American investment expanded in Asia. Finally, hard work and luck landed me in Three Exchange Square, Morgan Stanley's offices.
I dedicated myself to work, arriving at 7am and leaving at 9pm, straight for beers at Yelt's Inn in nearby 'Lanky' Fong. We took perverse pride in being at our desks over the weekend and late into the night. At this age, we knew we had to make the most of these 'productive years' and max out our career trajectories.
In those days, my friends and I met at "Am'scam", the monthly Young Professionals Committee happy hour sponsored by the American Chamber of Commerce. Every other person there seemed to hand over a card printed in the subway station announcing their recent arrival and job-searching status! I reigned among the supreme networkers (from what I am told) - handing out hundreds of business cards in my HK time.
Five nights a week we stumbled around Lan Kwai Fong (the main bar area) drunk most of the time, smoking Cuban cigars and locating friends on cellphones. Double drinks at Graffitis and jello shots at Al's dictated the evening's wanderings around bars that opened and closed every two years. 'Work hard, party harder' became everyone's mantra.
Brits, Canadians, Americans, Indians, assorted ambitious folks from everywhere came to Hong Kong seeking their fortune. They came and went in those days, staying either one year or five. Over five years seemed to take you straight to ten, do not pass Go. Many of my friends still reside here, pushing for the fifteen year mark.
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