How I survived a penniless weekend in Hong Kong

Andy Hill

From Thailand to Taiwan to Hong Kong to China, I somehow scooted by on nearly zero money, and was even able to enjoy myself at the same time.

When I was going through customs in Bangkok, I was politely notified that I had overstayed my visa by a moronic seventeen days. The fee was 200 baht/day, equalling 3,400 baht, or roughly $113. Also, roughly seven more dollars than I had in my pocket. Going into gonzo survival mode, I took immediate appraisal of the contents of my bag, the only valuable item being one of those Samsung Galaxy tablets.

The kindly and amused immigration officer watched my bag while I dashed back out to the ticketing area, assuming the demeanor of a circus barker. The ladies at the Thai Airways desk took sympathy with me and began barking for me.

After several frenetic moments, thinking of just how screwed I’d be if I didn’t sell it, missed my flight, and was still stuck in Thailand with a higher debt, two young Thai women came forward with reluctant interest. I started at 2,000 baht but was haggled by desperation down to 1,500. I dashed back to customs with my total of 5,100 baht, gave them their 3,400, and boarded the flight.

I landed at Taipei and changed my baht for roughly $50. The bus from Taipei, at the north end of the island, to Kaohsiung, at the south end of the island, was $4. An American woman on the bus let me use her Taiwanese phone and I reached my friend, who texted his address and said he and his girlfriend would be waiting up with plenty of bottles of wine. In Kaohsiung the taxi cost $2, bringing me down to $44.

The three of us stayed up through the night, talking about everything that had happened in the year since we’d seen each other. It was incredibly good to be with them. And I still had that blessed glow, which prohibited my lack of cash from burning a hole through my stomach lining.

The next morning, he and his lady returned and started to put breakfast together, and told me about a job interview they had just been to. It was for three open positions in Shandong Province, China, paid airfare with return, paid accommodation at a hotel, paid breakfast and dinner, plus $2,000/month. For 20 hours of teaching a week. And they needed someone pronto.

The next day we went back to the school and I was also offered the job, to which I asked “when can I go?” The woman was so delighted I thought she was going to fall out of her seat. Over the course of the next several days, the school booked my flights and the three of us sat around all day and night in their swanky apartment, catching up, laughing till we were sick in the loins.

There had to be a stop in Hong Kong in order to get the Chinese visa, but I was able to again avert disaster when the company fronted me $200 after I insinuated my penury.

When I got to Hong Kong I shelled out $10 for a bus ticket to the city and walked around until I found the Chinese embassy. My flight to China was in two days so I had to get next day service on the visa, which costs Americans $140. This, plus the photos I had to run out and get last minute, brought my reserves down to roughly $50, and I still had two days and nights until my flight to Jinan International Airport. I was coasting on fumes.

That day I did nothing but walk around Hong Kong, trying to take in as much as I could while I was there, getting free cups of water at Starbucks and eating from the day-old racks at bakeries. I knew that the bus back to town would cost me $10. I walked and roamed and rambled. As night descended I began to stake out a place to sleep.

Heading up into the slightly less stacked-upon hills over the bar districts, I slumped past countless financiers belting back $9 Guiness pints and patting their bellies, red-faced and talking about portfolios, indexes and returns.

A church beneath an overpass had a spacious campus of grass and several good perches under which to remain unseen. I crept into a spot beside an ivy-covered storage shed and got situated. It was with a blissful gaze that I watched the stars and felt the grass underneath, falling asleep easily. The next day I stood up, saw that the coast was clear, and walked off the grounds of the church as if I lived there. 

Terrified that for some reason my visa would be rejected, destroying this golden goose egg of a plan, I waited in line at the embassy in the line you wait in to wait in another line, picked a number, my name was called, and the woman shoved my passport into my trembling hands and called the next person.

I still had another day to explore Hong Kong, an idea I wasn’t riveted by. After draining the days’ hours in bookstores, I decided I would just sleep at the airport. I got the $10 bus back around midnight, claimed a nice corner, and stretched out to read my book. I had twelve hours.

It wasn’t bad at all! They have benches there that are just as comfy as any hippy pad couch, and people kept a wide berth. I finished my book and loitered in the bookstores after they opened at 6am, catching up on details of salacious celebrity romances. Finally I boarded the plane and took account of my cash. $11.

I looked out the window with crazed anticipation for the next chapter of this absurd adventure.

When I landed at Jinan, I was greeted by an extremely energetic Chinese man in his sixties, who would be my boss and handler for the next three months. We shuffled through the parking lot to the car through the delightfully autumnal, heavily polluted air of north western China.

While we were cruising through the corn and cotton fields along the Yellow River in the fading daylight, I mentioned in a circumspect way that I was, for all intents and purposes, flat broke. He whipped around, beaming, and exclaimed “SURE! DON’T WORRY SO MUCH! RELAX AND ENJOY THE RIDE, BABY!”