Leaving Bali was difficult. Our brief time there had been at once restful, sensual, and culturally stimulating. Yet we looked forward to the new adventures we might have in Hong Kong and making whatever discoveries we could fit into the two brief days of our visit.

We flew Cathay Pacific from Denpasar to Hong Kong, arriving at Hong Kong’s massive airport around 830 PM. After retrieving our luggage, we set out in search of a working ATM and then took a taxi from the island where the airport is located to the main Hong Kong Island.

We used timeshare points to stay at the Hong Kong ‘Grand Hyatt’ and walked into its magnificently stair-cased, circular lobby around 945 PM. The desk clerk, new to her job, was a bit more effusive in her introduction to the hotel and its features than we could appreciate at that hour and Ricky, the bellman, would have been easily at home in San Fran’s Castro district. After a nearly five hour flight and arrival into decidedly hot and sticky Hong Kong weather, all we wanted was a quick shower and some food.

Our room had a stunning view of downtown Honk Kong, which at night was festooned in more than the usual array of neon lights in preparation for the 1 July 2007 celebration of the tenth anniversary of Hong Kong’s return to mainland jurisdiction (an event more consequential for some than others, as we would discover). ‘Las Vegas of the East’ was how we came to refer to it. The next day, we resolved, we had to find a replacement camera (on which these photos ultimately were taken), because the sights were simply too fantastic to be missed.

After breakfast the following day, we set out for Kowloon, where the art museums and main shopping areas can be found. Taking the ferry across the harbor is efficient and cheap—except in our case. We discovered after boarding the boat that we had been short-changed almost $100HK and spent the next half hour explaining to the harbor master what had happened: We had presented a one hundred HK dollar bill to the ticket taker and received change for a ten! Perhaps we were mistaken, he suggested; not knowing the money; wasn’t it possible we only thought we had exchanged the larger bill? Since the only denomination issued by the cash machine was in hundreds, that was impossible, we explained. At that, the supervisor insisted that they would check the end-of-the-day receipts and get back to us.

The heat was oppressive and after walking a few blocks, we dashed into a nearby electronics store to find a replacement camera. We selected a new model that could take both pictures and video and in which we could fit the now-dormant Nikon’s memory stick (still containing our precious Bali photos). Camera in hand, we proceeded toward Linda Chow’s custom tailor shop on Peking Road, which the Hyatt concierge had recommended as one of the best places to find suits made to order.

Linda had been expecting us, but since we were late, she’d gone next door for lunch. Even though her assistant encouraged us to begin by picking out a design, the process seemed overwhelming until Linda, summoned by her frustrated assistant, arrived. A small woman in her late fifties, Linda had a no-nonsense approach to her sales. The price was the price; she had enough business and the quality of her work spoke for itself. If you wanted something rock bottom, you could go elsewhere. And we started to do exactly that, until Kathy encouraged Amy to think about what it would mean to have a suit designed to fit her perfectly for the same price as ready-to-wear Anne Klein; it was an opportunity not to be missed.

Amy picked out an elegant pattern and brown checkerboard fabric. Linda measured, asking precise questions like, "Do you always wear this watch or sometimes another?" and "Where do you like your trousers to sit?" dictating numbers and instructions in Cantonese to her assistant. Around the small shop filled with fabric bolts and dozens of fashion magazines—"Pick anything; I can make any dress or suit to your specifications"-- many photographs hung on the wall depicting Linda with her clients around the world, including university Presidents and US naval officers, which led Amy to comment on the history of her own career.

After the fitting, Linda took us to lunch at her favorite Dim Sum restaurant nearby, ordered the food and filled us in on the history of her thirty years in the business while instructing us in the proper eating of baby bamboo shoots (stem in mouth first, then suck the leaves in), those delectable long green stemmed vegetables that resemble baby broccoli plants. As we consumed pork rolls, and shrimp balls, all flavored delicately, Cantonese style, Linda told us about her many trips to the US to visit her daughter and grandson, who live in California. "I’ll be making another trip in the fall; you can come for a fitting then," she told Kathy, who had decided to wait for her bank account to replenish itself before choosing a new outfit.

Assured that the suit would be ready for final fitting the next day, we left Linda at her shop door and headed back into the heat, interrupting our walk to the ferry as often as possible with stops in air-conditioned stores.

Back on the HK side, we were once again reminded of San Francisco as our taxi delivered us to the base of the funicular tram that travels nearly vertical to the viewpoint overlooking the city, known as ‘The Peak’. Along the way, we were entertained by the driver who told us in perfect English about his educational plans to ensure that his three children spoke the best English possible: start studying the language early in school, practice at home and listen to the English-speaking radio stations as often as possible.

As it was late Friday afternoon, the tram was packed but luckily we made it to the top before the largest crowds hit. On the way up, we tried to figure out the new camera and were lucky we managed it because when we reached the summit, we had a magnificent view of the harbor and mainland China in the distance to the west. Stopping for a snack and a drink at, of all places, ‘Bubba’s’ an American franchise, we rode the tram back downhill and taxied to the hotel.

By then, we had given up the ferry money for lost. Yet, when we returned to the hotel, there were no fewer than five messages from the harbor master, requesting us to contact him to arrange a refund of our money. Curiously, even though they were ‘certain no mistake had been made’, they were nonetheless willing to return the cash and we arranged a time to meet the next day, letting bygones be bygones. The heat had so tired us that we decided to order room service. While we waited for dinner to arrive Kathy used the tripod to take some more great shots of the setting sun and nightlights of HK.

The next day was a whirlwind. We checked out of the hotel, leaving Ricky with our growing mound of luggage, and set out to collect our ferry refund, then visited the Hong Kong art museum, and completed our shopping, including Amy’s suit fitting at Linda Chows, in the sticky Hong Kong swelter. By early evening when we returned to the Grand Hyatt to collect our luggage we were near collapse, having enough energy only to take a swim and eat some dinner, killing time before leaving for the airport and our 1230am departure for London and Stockholm.

The flight from Hong Kong to London takes almost fifteen hours and the thought of that was daunting enough. Imagine our frustration when we arrived at the airport to discover that this was the time British Airways had picked to run a check of staff performance in a simulation of computer breakdown! All passengers had to be checked in and their luggage registered by hand, without the use of computerized tagging, etc. As a result, the flight departed nearly three hours late! Even though we weren’t flying in the back of the bus, the trip was the least satisfactory part of our journey, made worse when the two couples seated next to Amy decided it was time (at three in the morning) for a dinner party. Finally, Amy convinced the flight attendant to exercise reason and we were able to sleep for the rest of the flight.

Missing our connection to Stockholm in London, we worried about our bags, a worry that proved well-founded when we learned upon arriving in Stockholm that one of our bags had gone missing. Luckily, it wasn’t the one that we most needed and we took a taxi to the Långholmen Hotel in Stockholm, hoping for the best.