HONG KONG

I'm sitting here in the Hong Kong Airport waiting for the last leg of my flight to India. I'm still about ten hours from my destination. The flight from San Francisco was over fifteen hours. Oddly enough, as I stepped into the Hong Kong terminal, the first thing I noticed were the strains of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus being played over the intercom system. That's about where any familiarity with anything ended. Hong Kong Airport is immaculately clean. There are few Americans and fewer children or babies. Fully armed security guards with loaded machine guns walk past about every five minutes. That's a little disconcerting. Everyone seems to be in some kind of uniform here and maybe it's just me, but there seems to be a lack of individuality.  Everything is SO quiet. Lots of people, but they all look like they're headed for a close relative's funeral. There's no odd behavior or colorful people to watch around here. Except me, maybe. I'm definitely beginning to stick out. I feel like I look like a greasy, unwashed hippie. I always knew I would come to this.