It’s been a very busy week. After Seoul and the whole toe incident (its no longer purple!) we flew to Hong Kong for two days.
Hong Kong was a city like no other. It looks like Jurassic park, with modern architecture and huge metal skyscrapers among lush green tropics. We took it easy through the city, riding a tram around for three hours to get the vibe, checking out the views from Victoria Peak, and watching the city skyline light up at night to an elaborate light show. We had dim sum at the world’s cheapest Michelin starred restaurant, and had pork buns that made me feel things I never thought I could feel for pork buns.
I didn’t write about Hong Kong right away because it didn’t leave me feeling inspired. It was a city, a large city with millions of people bustling through it, with apartment building on top of apartment building. It’s the kind of place you would go if you wanted to be a nobody for a little, a somebody that nobody knows. You could get lost in the hustle and bustle of the city. But I’m not trying to get lost. I’m trying to get found.
Singapore was a whole different story.
For those of you who don’t know, before I moved to Barcelona, I visited for a day and knew right away I had to live there- so naturally I packed up and flew away for a semester (awful pun, I know.)
Well, that same thing happened in Singapore. Immediately the city just felt so right. It felt like it could be home, maybe even within a few years- sorry Mama Kulka.
But I suppose I’ll save that for another post, I’m honestly a little busy frolicking around a Balinese beach club with my three Habibis.