After six months in China in 1987, Hong Kong seemed like another world. Air conditioning that worked, traffic jams and skyscrapers that looked modern and well-built. My godfather’s son, Stephen Bourne, was kind enough to let me sleep in his spare room in the Discovery Bay apartment. He took me sailing in his Flying Fifteen in Hong Kong harbour and even let me crew for him in a race. I slowed us down by falling overboard but managed to hand on and climb back on board. Without my help, he would probably have won,
I spent my days preparing for an adventure in Tibet, which involved tracking down maps and lightweight camping equipment. Before long, I was ready and crossed the border into China and caught the train to Guangzhou.
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