Just hours from landing on Hong Kong airport it was already midnight; we rode a bus and took what seemed like an endless journey to Wan Chai. Everything was laced with city lights, the tunnels, the streets, the bridges. It was like driving through a maze dipped in gold.
On the airplane, Manila was from above, an intricate display of pulsating electricity. Whatever that means haha! It just reminded me of an angiogram, like veins of yellow lights stemming all over the black earth in chaotic harmony. Everything was pretty from a far.
From the bus, we got into a cab with an irate local taxi driver who threw curses on us (I'm glad we didn't understand a single word). Walked two blocks from Jaffe Road to Spicy Fingers. Met Tita Bong, sitting outside the bar, alone but surrounded by people, mostly Americans. She was slightly tipsy, with traces of mascara surrounding her eyes. Her soft curls sexily parted on the side.
From then, several things started happening all at once: some band were performing Sex On Fire; we were introduced by some new-found friends; was offered wine and a smoke; a red neck stranger picked me up from behind and carried me like a life-sized doll; had dinner at this Filipino-Indonesian place called Cinta-J just across the bar, where an old Japanese and a bunch of older French men sang songs my parents danced to back in the days.
That's how Hong Kong welcomed me.