My worst day in Hong Kong became my best — and honestly, Hong Kong is the kind of city that wins you over from day one. Even when day one is a complete disaster.
For many people, what I experienced at the start would have been a sign they’d chosen the wrong destination entirely.
If I think about it — anyone with a tendency to see their life as one long string of failures (more on that in another article) would have described it like this:
A series of misfortunes. A long delayed flight. Cold and crowded on arrival. Google Maps completely useless in this absolute maze of a city. In the middle of all the chaos, the woman I was renting a room from messaged to say it wouldn’t be ready until 10pm — and then stopped responding. Exhausted, I sat down to work in an overcrowded McDonald’s. The apartment turned out to be nothing like what was advertised. The next day — aside from the insanely overpriced food everywhere I tried to order breakfast — instead of sightseeing I got completely lost in their elevated corridors and shopping arcades, spending two hours unable to find an exit that would actually take me where I wanted to go. Later, tired and dirty after a full day, I went to the famous night market… and that’s when the question came up: did I even want to drag myself to that fancy rooftop bar?:D The one that, as it turned out, completely changed this trip — thanks to the remarkable people I met there.
And here’s the most important thing — every single detail of that “terrible day” is essentially true. But I didn’t experience it that way for a single moment.
I was laughing internally at the absurdity of it all. At how challenges like these reveal the reality of a place so different from anything you know — the way people think here, just like their language, is built on a completely different logic. And they built their city the same way — multilevel, labyrinthine, where street-level access for pedestrians sometimes simply doesn’t exist. Corridors. Multilevel corridors.
The Bar
Despite having nothing left in the tank, I made my way to one of the highest open-air bars in the world. I sat down and started actually enjoying the moment. A few minutes later, three men at the next table started talking to me. One thing led to another and they invited me to join the premium table they’d been waiting for. The conversation was remarkable — partly because, as it turned out, each of them was from a different continent (Asia, Europe, America), and yet all three had chosen Hong Kong as their permanent home. That’s also where they’d met each other.
There was something incredible about sitting there exchanging perspectives, listening to the stories of people so different from one another — and yet all deeply familiar with the realities of life, of business. Laughing together at life and its paradoxes.
Each conversation had its own energy because they were so different. One told me about his family’s generational history with an incredible sense of humor. Another was all about realism — and finding answers to the big questions in life. The third spent most of that first meeting mostly observing and listening. Somewhere in between I managed to get him talking while I was taking photos — joking around, swapping a few opinions while the more talkative members of the group were occupied;D
We didn’t want the evening to end.
Eventually we moved on and they showed me a few places in another part of the city.
For the rest of my stay — two weeks — I had genuinely great people around me. Beyond being incredible guides to the best spots and the kind of controversial clubs that give you real experience (the kind you can’t replicate or copy), they brought a lot of interesting perspective — both on life and professionally.
And honestly — they were the ones who kept initiating contact, keeping it alive — even though beyond good conversation, they got nothing out of it.
One of them put it well before I left: “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way — you just have this lightness and enthusiasm about you. I noticed it that first day. I don’t come across it often, despite knowing a lot of people. You can just feel it in your energy.”
He was someone who both broadened my professional horizons and became a solid contact — a must-see on any future visit to this remarkable city. A city where I experienced a lot, where I felt a glimpse of the scale the world can offer.
Two weeks in Hong Kong — spontaneous ones, because I hadn’t planned this destination at all — turned out to be exactly right.
And it had nothing to do with views or the kind of pleasures we usually associate with a vacation. (BTW — these weren’t the “most enjoyable two weeks.” In a way, they were a challenge.)
They were so valuable because they turned out to be enormously enriching — in terms of perspective, ways of thinking, meeting people from every corner of the world in one place. Because Hong Kong is a business hub — the turnover of people is huge. People come for days, weeks, months, years. Very few actually move their whole life there permanently.
During the day you can feel this is a city of ambition. But in the evenings — going out to a club or a bar — you meet people who are open, eager to share experiences, happy to have a good time. That’s just what every day looks like in HK. One sentence sums it up: Hong Kong never sleeps. And that’s the truth. You could genuinely not sleep at all — just move from place to place and you’ll always find interesting people to talk to or have fun with.
There’s a certain lightness and freedom this city gives you. The cultural mix is so strong that there’s no single template you’re expected to fit into.
Though — fair warning — I did hear: “This city pulls some people into a spiral of parties and that lifestyle and it doesn’t end well for them.” I won’t argue with that. It can happen — if you go into something without any limits. Like with everything.
But generally — you’re yourself, and at the same time you absorb the energy and lightness of this metropolis. It has a subtly island-like atmosphere, draws interesting people with specific goals, and makes you start thinking and seeing more broadly — if you let it.
At one point one of my new friends joked: “So — same time next year? At least a month in HK?” I didn’t want to make a naive promise I couldn’t keep. Anyone can say that in the moment.
But deep down I knew. That this place had settled somewhere inside me — and would keep asking to come back.