I spent the rest of 1989 exploring Hong Kong. I took ferry boat trips to the outlying islands, which were then a little more than grass and sand and a few run-down fishing villages. One of them, Lantau, has since become Hong Kong's international airport and Hong Kong Disneyland.
I visited the Man Mo temple downtown, with its candles and incense and shrines to both traditional Chinese gods and Buddha. Buddha traditionally likes oranges, but some of the more modern Hong Kong worshipppers had left him orange-flavoured Starburst.
I went to the Western district, full of crumbling old traditional Chinese apartment blocks, complete with "nightsoil ladies" instead of indoor plumbing. Westerners found them charming and worthy of preservation: the Chinese hated them and wanted them torn down as quickly as possible.
In general, I found my Chinese friends and colleagues had a bias towards things new. For example, I carried a well-worn, well-loved leather school bag that Europeans thought was incredibly hip. Chinese people used to ask me why I didn't throw it away and get a new bag.
I went to Cantopop concerts, including one of the 33 retirement concerts held by local superstar Leslie Cheung, a series titled "A Final Encounter of the Legend." Leslie was talented singer. He also starred in a number of reasonably good movies, including "Farewell my Concubine," before throwing himself off a building in 2003.