"I once spent three months in Hong Kong long ago – compulsorily: I had lost my passport in Singapore, and the American embassy people did not believe I was an American until they checked my fingerprints with Washington. I thus ended up in Hong Kong waiting for my new passport to arrive. I was nearly penniless and lived quite comfortably in a brothel in Kowloon – without the services of the girls, I must add. They were all very nice to me, and my few remaining dollars were enough to pay for rice and an occasional bowl of vegetables. I thus saw Hong Kong from the underside, as it were. When my passport finally arrived, I managed to catch a Norwegian freighter going home to San Francisco. All of this was rather jolly, and the British police in Hong Kong were understanding. Everybody seemed to think I was either an agent for the Russians or an escaped Nazi war criminal, although I speak neither Russian nor German. Just my "good looks", I guess."