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Before we went to look for work in Hong Kong, we spent a month on Koh Chang in Thailand. At the bungalows where we stayed worked an English girl, Julia, a friend of Al who we’d met in Sumatra.
In between eating well, drinking too much, and sitting in cars made of sand with playful “Pants” Pearson, we met two other English girls, Clare and Louise. Julia had suggested that they sit with us in the restaurant to stop an annoying American lad hitting on them.
They were nice and we had quite a laugh with them. When we told them we were heading to Hong Kong in a few weeks, they told us that they lived and worked there and we could perhaps meet up once we got settled. I passed Clare my address book to get her number. As she flicked through the pages she shrieked, “Oh my God! You know Simon?” Simon had been with us for a couple of weeks in Nias and had written his address and drawn a picture in my address book. Simon was Clare’s ex-boyfriend.
Clare not only gave us her number, they met us at the airport when we arrived three weeks later, and we stayed with Clare and her boyfriend for the first week we lived in Hong Kong. Through their friends we managed to get work, and an apartment soon after. Thanks to the help of Clare and Louise and their friends we had one of the softest landings ever.
Just before we moved out of their apartment, the phone rang. “Grab that, would you?” said Clare. I answered it, and on the end of a crackly line was Simon calling from Jakarta, trying to get in touch with Clare about the chances of his getting work in Hong Kong. When we had last been with Simon we were talking of going to Canada. Hong Kong became the new plan after we rode on top of a bus with a Scottish man called Grant.
“Alright there Simon,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“What the hell are you doing in my ex-girlfriend’s apartment in Hong Kong?” he asked, in amazement.
“Long story mate….”
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