Oh! And I got stopped at the airport by the officials who take the temperatures of people to make sure they're not bringing some communicable disease (like SARS) into the country. I have NEVER seen them actually taking someone's temperature, and I wasn't even walking near them, but they came running out after me (calling, "Lady! Lady!") and made me have my temperature taken. I felt terrible, and I must have looked just as bad. I was picturing myself trying to explain to them that I had a cold, but being quarantined nonetheless... but they let me go. Phew!
So much industry. The whole world appears to transit through Hong Kong.
I always travel with Mr. Mustache. He's a great neck pillow for the plane, and, well, he likes to see the world. I came back one night and the evening maid had turned down the bed and set him atop the pillows! Now I always judge the hotel maid by her treatment of Mr. Mustache.