strangely at home

While I was walking down Gloucester this morning (i.e., the big main avenue in Wanchai where my office building is located), I was a trifle weirded out that it felt like I was walking down Ayala on any ordinary day in Manila.

This was the umpteenth time I had felt this since I arrived; the first time was yesterday evening, going home to the hotel from work, when I was at the corner deli grabbing a salad; the third and fourth and fifth was when I was riding the MTR; the sixth was when I was strolling down the streets of LKF, peering into bars and imagining I was in Malate (during more genteel, less jologs days); and so on.

Maybe every city is exactly the same as the rest, or maybe I haven't quite discovered the soul of Hong Kong just yet. The only difference I feel right now is that I can't hop into a cab and go to Greenbelt to meet my Bes, or go to the club to see Tan or Stef or Jef or Ets or the rest of the boys.

Put another way, like I told Jef when he called me last night, all I need is a friend's voice on the other line, and Wanchai transforms, in a heartbeat, into Makati in my mind ;-)