Six years later I came back visit Hong Kong, and everything looks almost exactly the same. The diversity of cultures it’s amazing, being a game to find where are they from. Travelers, residents, tailers asking you if you need a new formal suit, probably from India. I walk through the labyrinthine floor of Chungking Mansions and take the lift of B Block. Next, to me a young man looks tired, it’s near six o clock and was a hard day for him, “Where are you from?”, asked him, “Portugal”, “Oh Portugal, the football it’s good”, “And you?”, “Pakistan… the football’s not so good… hahaha”.
Arrived on the ten floors, this is my exit. The Hostel was in the same place with the same people, like it was waiting for me, and the owner didn’t get old a bit, what could it be his elixir of youth. Finally, could rest before going out to eat a nice slice of pizza in the supermarket near. Looking through the room window, a narrow gap between two buildings could see the busy road, crossing it in exact intervals of minutes every time the unmistakable beep sounds got out of the traffic lights. The time to go out as come, let’s go eat something, I’m hungry.