Finding Sole Town

I started out on Saturday morning a wretched creature with the vilest of hangovers thanks to a ‘few’ ‘quiet’ after work drinks, Phil’s company card and Jane’s bright ideas. But I’ve really got no one to blame but myself.

I hung in there all the way to Sydney airport, all the way to HK, gliding into Sheung Wan on the MTR, lurching up to Hollywood Rd in my cab and then the final gruesome leg, up the 8 floors to my apartment, with many an internal pep talk at every throb of my temple and twist of my guts all along the way.

After what seemed like eternity, Mr Paul finally completed his guided tour of my kitchen cupboards, bathroom cabinet, extensive wardrobe, services manual, light switches and selection of remote controls. I was finally left alone. I had prevailed. I was arrived. I was curled up on the floor under a steaming shower.

Sunday brought duller stomach aches, rain and adventure: exploring the streets and alleys of Soho, the culinary delights of neighbourhood eateries and the nuances of my clothes steamer. (No iron!) Nikki and Trent reunited me with my old treacherous friend - a first cautious glass of wine and a Tsingtao.

On Monday, I found my HK niche. I skipped puddles on glistening streets, bustled down escalators into the veins of the city, shot through tunnels in a sea of bobbing dark heads and then up the 35 floors to my little desk by the window with the muted harbour yawning out before me. From there I sip endless cups of Chinese tea, strain to interpret accents on the phone, venture out with Ethan for tasty lunchtime noodles and try not to fumble and drop the work Lee throws at me. My trip home again is relatively unobstructed, save the dalliance of a scenic route, a spontaneous dinner stop or that cute little dress – black with white polka dots – that threw herself on me and would not let me pass until I’d surrendered my credit card.

Phone-camera photo by Liela. Special thanks to Jeff who made it all possible. I am his biggest fan.

Outwardly, I had settled into a new and wonderful routine, chest puffed up with anticipation, eyes wide with wonder, Birkenstocks sodden with rain. But deep inside a little chink was gaping, a mocking shadow. A piece was missing. I wasn’t quite there. I was still searching… for something.

And then tonight, I found it. I emerged into the gleaming white and found myself surrounded by hundreds of pretty little nymphs, all winking at me, whispering my name, tickling my toes. It was there above the grit and drizzle of the city streets that I finally found my Sole Town.

And tonight, I clutch a new pair of size 6.5 Steve Madden flats to my bosom and feel my arrival in HK finally complete. Bring it on.