Homesick

My second night in Hong Kong and I'm speechless. Not impressed-speechless, nor surprised-speechless, I simply have nothing to say. 

I live on Graham Street, on the top of a hill full of little fruit and vegetable markets. It's amazingly convenient and fresh; I haven't had need of the refrigerator yet. 

Today, I bought 5 apples, a pile of bananas, and a papaya for breakfast. It was only $25. 

For dinner, I picked up an avocado and 3 eggs, all for $11. 

Still hungry, I wandered and wound up at Lan Kwai Fong. Eavesdropped on drunken conversations, watched drunken couples sneaking gropes on the street, marveled at the funniness of drunken people. 

Standing outside my building, I realized my bedroom is only half of an actual room.  The landlord has cleverly split an already miniscule room into rather cruel proportions. 

My room is literally a shoebox. As soon as I come into it, I have to crawl onto the bed. 

Hong Kong is what I expected. It's different and everywhere I go leaves me staring around, mouth slightly agape. I'm eating things I don't know, getting lost in my own neighborhood, and it's great fun. But the thought of being here for another 8 months is one that I find sobering, not liberating. I feel homesick. But for what or where, I don't know. Do I miss Korea? New York? Chicago? How do you miss home when there isn't anyplace in particular you think of as home.