Hong Kong has a smell. Or, more specifically, Hong Kong airport has a smell. It’s not a bad smell although you probably wouldn’t want it as a perfume. It’s very difficult to describe - as all smells are, I suppose. It’s sort of a vague smell of barbecue pork, humidity and air conditioning but in a good way. It’s the smell, more than anything, that let’s me know officially that I’m back in Hong Kong.
When I stepped off the flight yesterday afternoon, I had an email from my accountant waiting for me - they had spoken to the authorities, who said that they’ll make a decision on my visa application “early next week.” Which means that as of Monday morning, I’m going to be on complete tenterhooks! Oh well - fingers crossed for a week, then.
It’s very warm and humid today, in HK, and my body’s wondering what to do with itself: I got seven hours of sleep last night, which was fantastic, although it’s now 3:15am in the UK, so my body thinks it should still be asleep. That’s the joy of jetlag, folks, and probably explains why this post makes very little sense at all!
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