2 years back in England, and still I think of Hong Kong every day
- Leaving Covid-hit Hong Kong after 28 years for a village near London felt like escaping quarantine. I love my new life, but miss the old one
The onset of summer, with its long days and occasional sunny rays, reminds me of my arrival in England from Hong Kong. The second anniversary is approaching.
It has taken many months, but reality has finally dawned. I live here now. No longer do I have that feeling of being on holiday with a return flight to catch.
The passage of time makes it difficult to recall what I expected to find here. I spent the first 30 years of my life in London. The leap of faith was nowhere near as big as it had been when I landed in Hong Kong in 1994, having never visited the city.
But I had little idea of what life in Britain would be like. For 28 years, my experience of the country had been as a tourist, snatching a few weeks in the summer.
Looking back, first impressions were always going to be good. When I left Hong Kong, Covid-19 restrictions were still in place. The busy streets of London, lively restaurants and bars and hordes of tourists were a revelation. It felt like being released from a quarantine facility.
The novelty took longer to wear off than I expected. Part of this was due to a decision to try living in the countryside. My wife and I had no idea whether we would like it, after so many years in pulsating, cosmopolitan Hong Kong.
But we immediately loved the peace and quiet of Kent village life – and still do. It is such a contrast. No crowds, no air pollution, no street lights – and no MTR. There is a pub and a village shop, but that’s about it.
Not everyone would enjoy it. The cut and thrust of Hong Kong is missing. But London is not too far away.
The journey takes about 90 minutes. That, I know, would be considered an eternity in Hong Kong. But it can be done.
After years of living in rented flats, moving almost every two years, it was a relief to buy a house in England. The garden, long coveted, is a joy.
Britain, of course, has many problems. I moved back at a time of rampant inflation and a cost of living crisis. The National Health Service is a mess and schools are struggling. There is a knife-crime epidemic.
But thankfully, no doubt partly protected by living in my village bubble, the fears I had on arrival have not materialised, at least not yet. I have, however, kept my costly private health insurance.
After nearly two years, it is a case of so far, so good. It still feels too soon to pass a definitive judgment. And a day never passes without me remembering Hong Kong.
