As I sat at the gate waiting for my flight, I looked out across the apron at Kai Tak, watching various airliners coming and going. For a moment, I wondered if I hadn’t tried hard enough and failed in the place that was supposed to be easier than the UK—at least when it came to finding work.
Maybe I should have stayed and looked for another job, and I had the sniff of a junior position at Star TV, but I wasn’t interested. Or at Nike, again, not fussed. Friends on Lamma said I was nuts, but it felt a bit like being told to eat when you had no appetite. Perhaps I’d been beaten by Hong Kong, or maybe I’d just decided that at age 22, I was meant to be somewhere else. Just 24 hours ago, I had been partying at a friend’s house on Lamma. We swam, ate, drank, laughed, and danced. As I watched the sunrise and container ships making their way through the channel, I did wonder if I was making the right choice. I knew I was, because my heart wasn't in it - at least, not the office life. As I sat on the Lamma to Central ferry, I watched the island until it was out of sight and felt a lump in my throat. Chapter closed. I would miss this place very much, but now it was time for new adventures. The Lamma life? Oh yes, that was great, but working in an office from 9 to 5? No, I was bored stiff. I remember my mum saying, “It must be so exciting to work in Hong Kong”—but no, it wasn’t. An office cubicle is still just an office cubicle. I remember my first day at work so clearly, thinking about the lyrics to “Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads: “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was.” I'd secured this amazing job, but as I sat in the silent office staring at my screen, I caught myself clock watching...on my first day. I wanted to drop off to sleep behind my spreadsheets and reports, and sometimes, I did. No one spoke in the office, aside from my American boss, and when he was away, I felt the walls closing in. I was 22, but after just a few months working with USA Today at the Ocean Centre and eating Oliver’s Super Sandwiches, I knew I had to get out. Some days, I set up pointless appointments with sailing clubs, the American Chamber of Commerce, and hotels—anything to kill time before the end of the workday. With my boss in Japan for a few weeks and my colleagues ignoring me, I refused to sit there all day just clock-watching. I’d sit harbour-side in North Point, staring into the distance, trying to muster the motivation to go back to the office. “Be careful what you wish for,” they say, but I also believe you only know if you don’t like something by trying it. No one has ever said, “You know what I hate? Coriander! Never tried it, but I hate it.” Try it first, and if you don’t like it, don’t do it again. Mentally, I was probably about 17, just a boy in an adult’s world, and what I really wanted was to work with kids at summer camp in the USA. A career move? Far from it, but something was pulling me there. I’d written to some camps via email at an internet café, and one camp sent me a brochure for a high-adventure camp in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The brochure arrived at the office, and that night, as I commuted home, I read it on the Star Ferry. An American guy in a cowboy hat stood close by saw me reading it, you couldn't make it up, and I promise I'm not! “You going to North Carolina, son?” “Yes,” I said, and he looked at the pictures with me. “That’s God’s country right there…” I’m not a religious person at all, but his words helped justify my decision and took away any doubts. Yes, I was that easily swayed! As I sat waiting to board, I pictured myself arriving there, wide-eyed and excited. I remembered my first day at work, the barbecues on Lamma rooftops, the day I rescued two puppies, playing basketball in Wanchai, and our breakfasts at Deli Lamma that lasted all day. I smiled to myself as I recalled swimming in the Peninsula Hotel pool and being kicked out—what an idiot I was, but what a time! The flight announcement was made. Here we go. I took one last look at the terminal and prepared to board. Don’t doubt it, just go with it—things will work out, I kept telling myself. After a jet-lagged stay at "home" with my parents for a few days, I flew to North Carolina and was picked up at Charlotte Airport by one of the summer camp maintenance guys. He played country music the whole way and the adrenaline wwas racing through my body. We laughed, talked, and he gave me the lowdown on summer camp life. We stopped off for a burger along the way, and by the time we arrived at camp, it was pitch black. I met the directors and then walked into my wooden cabin, which was surrounded by pine trees. It smelled musty, with walls covered in graffiti dating back to the 1950s: “Jake was here, 1952.” “I hope this is okay?” asked one of the staff who came by to see me. He knew I'd come from Hong Kong, and it was almost like I was seen as some sort of rich kid, which was far from the case. “Oh yes, this is very okay,” I replied. “Where’d you come from?” he asked. “Hong Kong,” I replied. Technically, it was London, but I had only been there for four days. “Hong Kong? Isn’t that in China?” It would be soon, but I didn’t get into it with him. The next day, the kids arrived, and that night, we made a fire, cooked hot dogs, told stories, and slept under the stars. I may not have been helping my professional development, but deep in my heart, this gweilo has never felt more alive. “And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?” I knew exactly how I got here, and it felt incredible.
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January 2025
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