SYDNEY WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT FOR ME. VISITING A QUARTER-CENTURY AGO, AS A YOUNG REPORTER based in Hong Kong, I bounded off the plane, reveled in the clear air and blue skies, kneeled down, and kissed the tarmac. Admittedly, there had been many on-board drinks. Still, excitement had been building from takeoff: like-minded people speaking boisterously, spinning yarns, wearing shorts and loud shirts. I’d felt that I’d finally found my tribe.
I quickly obtained immigration papers—which went unfiled, since, like in most torrid love affairs, the spell eventually broke. And, like so many plunges of passion, the end came in the sack. Sydney claimed stately architecture, wonderful parks, wholesome food, and harbor views captivating even a native San Franciscan residing in Hong Kong. But, sorry Sydney, your hotel scene…
