I feel like the guy in Lost in Translation. I feel like the guy in The Notebook. I feel like the guy in In The Mood For Love. I feel like the guy in 2046.
There was a point during my stay in Hong Kong that I wondered if I would feel like myself, or some semblance of what I thought I was. Then I thought, wah lao, damn cock lah! And I went out of the Wong Kar Wai flat, took the lift downstairs and shopped, ate, walked around, and mostly felt un-lost around Causeway Bay, Admiralty, Central and Lan Kwai Fong.
There were things to do: Helping the ex buy her accessories for her wedding costumes.
There were things to eat: An aunt in Hong Kong took me to dinner, and it was one of those eat to death hotpot places.
There were people to meet: Cowboy Caleb was in town also, so we went and tried to drink Lan Kwai Fong dry, but the bugger cannot drink and neither can I; and there was Lucy my friend the bored housewife who doesn’t mind a drink or two.
Then there was the grandest, most beautiful wedding I have ever attended, and appropriately so.
Then in the cab on the way back to the ex’s apartment in Causeway Bay, everything looked like something from Chungking Express.