Dear Mili: Today I am on a vacation in Sea Island, where

everything is manicured and pristine, right down to each

painted-green blade of grass. The houses look like

Hollywood sets, and the inhabitants look like retired actors. There is

an air of artificiality that renders this entire island somewhat

suspicious. I thought about the safety of Hong Kong you described, how

if you left your bag out on the bus, you would not have to worry about

finding it stolen. I never felt like that in Atlanta, where

desperate people sweep through the cars of the MARTA trains to

ask for change or food or some of your time.

I thought about all of this when I left my beach bag by

my chair to go into the brilliantly blue ocean. I knew that the

people here have no reason to steal the thirty dollars I had in

my wallet, but I thought they also seem like the kind of people who

would do exactly that just because they could. So when

I returned to find my thirty dollars still in my wallet, I

breathed a sigh of relief. The air in Sea Island tastes like

plastic, and I remember you said the air in Hong Kong tastes like coal.

I never think that the air in Atlanta tastes like much of anything.  

I’m a bit bored of that city, and would love the chance to

visit you in Hong Kong with your safe public transportation and

mass-produced air, but for now I will try to enjoy this

vacation where everything is   slightly      off.