Different Man in the Same Cage

There is one Hong Kong lesson it is perhaps necessary to relearn every few years.  Once you’re in the middle of the review, it all floods back.  If you have to walk for more than two blocks in business attire in the SAR, it’s more humid than you think, and if you’re rushing, you’ll be a sweaty mess out therein most seasons in no time. 

It must be sixty-five degrees outside.  It’s cool, pleasant.  But yesterday I had short sleeves on and I was in no rush.  Today I’m dressed to impress and have luggage.  Leaving, I realized at the last minute that I’d be the last one out of our Airbnb apartment.  What’s the protocol?  Am I supposed to leave the keys in a drop box?  Am I supposed generally tidy up or leave the sheets in a pile?  There’s a probably a binder somewhere that I haven’t considered, that explains it all.  Turn off the electricity, says the sign.  At the fuse box level?  A call explained all but it ate up the time I thought I otherwise had.

The only thing I was on the hook for was getting one of the two keys to the doorman downstairs.  I’d chatted with him in Mandarin late the other night when we came back.  I walk up to a different man in the same cage and try to explain that I’m leaving the key with him.  This gent however speaks no Mandarin and soon I’m knee-deep in a one-way exchange that might as well be Bengali.  “Yes.  Twelfth floor.  Yes. Sure. Here you go.  Bye.”  

By the time I cross with the light at Waterloo St. and come up upon Pitt St. I’m concerned about pits.  They’re wet.  And I don’t really recall how much longer it is till Shandong Road.  It should be right up there but the tall tower but I could certainly be wrong.  I start thinking about the other clean shirt in my bag.  At the first break I’ll duck out and change it.   Naive to think I could cheat the Hong Kong humidity.

Friday, 4/07/17