After living in a friend’s spare room for four months, I found a place to live that fitted my criteria. It was out in the New Territories (not in urban HK); it had a direct bus link to work; and it was close to the sea. Sai Kung even had a sidewalk cafe ambiance about it. It was a fishing village that didn’t grow too much. After living there for a while, I found that it was also the haunt of media types and journalists.
The ground floor was a single room where the village stored its traditional memorabilia.
The significance of the 1928 building (considered very old by my colleagues) to the village was revealed in the middle of 1997. I returned home from work to find that it had been decorated…
Despite being a token gwailo (white ghost), I promptly paid my rent to the headman of the village every month for 7 years…long enough to get a personal visit from the lion dance every Chinese New Year