Hong Kong was a gonzo dream

Hong Kong is nothing you had expected. They drive on the left, commute in two level busses, use British plugs. You were flying to Asia, but landed in London.

Hong Kong knows how to party. Go out for one drink, come back at 5 am. In Hong Kong parties are grand, international, hungry and lush. Clubs with the best lights, million dollar interior. When in Hong Kong, get Moët & Chandon. A fortune is spent on champagne every hour in roof top bars. CÉ LA VIE. You promise yourself to remember nights in Hong Kong.

In Hong Kong you book a hostel, but find yourself at a Oriental Bazaar, in a Kowloon Walled City. “Hashish, Marihuana, my friend. Rolex, naked body naked massage, my friend. Cheap, my friend”. The building has 20 floors and you find your room only thanks to the boy-singh.

Hong Kong is a market. It is no longer a gate to China, people fly directly. Want to go big? Go to mainland. Want freedoms? Tomorrow, even Singapore will be better. Hong Kong is a haven, haven for money. Money anchor as much Teslas as San Francisco and build the skyline. Money are available, but they need talent. Start business in/from Hong Kong.

Hong Kong was a story. Narrow streets and deep pockets. Slumdog Millionaire dream. “Lets build a skyscraper together, drive a Tesla, eat beef noodles, have a shot”. Hong Kong was a destination, was a sex or a tease, could be just a start. Now, Hong Kong is a runway and it needs to be published.

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