I wrote most of this hours before leaving Hong Kong, back on Jan. 31. I just now finished touching it up. I’m leaving in the “I’m still in HK” references. But I am not. Here goes.

I saved this for my last day in Hong Kong. So I would have the maximum exposure to the idea.

It’s not always politically correct, in American society, to talk about (or even acknowledge) issues pertaining to ethnicity or race. I am aware of that. Even if those topics are never far below the surface.

I didn’t want to be in a situation where I was here for a week, and then made some generalizations. I gave it four full months.

The key fact is this: As a member of an ethnic group labeled, here, as “Caucasian” … I am part of a minority that makes up a mere 0.5 percent of Hong Kong’s 7 million (or so) people, according to online stats.

So, how did that go?

Not badly. At all.

I expected to feel more freakish (and perhaps I should have) than I did. I rarely was stared at (far less often than in Beijing), and I can’t ever remember feeling as if the Chinese majority (about 95 percent of the population) was talking about me behind the wall of the Cantonese language.

I felt zero antipathy that I would suggest was race-based. I felt little antipathy of any sort, actually. Even if, as is widely suggested, the Chinese generally find Anglos to be hairy and homely. If that is so, no one said it, I never felt it and I never heard it. I know the expression gweilo — or “ghost man”— was coined to describe Europeans, but I never heard it spoken, while here.

But,  yes, it was odd. If and when I thought about it. “There are 500 people on this train, and I’m the only white guy on it.”

As it turned out, I rarely thought that through, particularly once I was into a work schedule. Most of my train trips were taken up with “how fast can I get where I am going?” or “what do I have to do in the next hour?” Perhaps because I almost never felt as if my ethnicity was an issue for anyone around me.

Some other generalization and guesses I have on what it is like to be one of the 36,000 or so white people living in Hong Kong:

–There is no “white guy brotherhood.” I had this vague notion that all folks of European origin in HK would somehow be simpatico. A “Yo, bro, what up!” kinda thing. Much as I sense African-Americans seem to enjoy in the U.S. — the nods of acknowledgment or friendly words exchanged in passing.

I can remember, early on, on the occasion of encountering another white guy (and white guys outnumber white women here substantially; I’m going to throw out a number: 60-40) thinking, “Hmm, what brought you to this corner of China?”

But white guys were as likely to look right through a “ghost man” as anyone else. The one time I approached and addressed white people/Euros whom I didn’t know — on a street corner in Tin Hau, a man and a woman who seemed lost — I said, “Are you looking for the tennis stadium?”

It turned out they were non-English speakers. And no, they were not looking for the tennis stadium.

–The 36,000 or so Euros are a splintered group, broken up by language. Americans probably have a slight plurality, followed by Brits and Australians. But there are quite a few French here; I was surprised by how often I heard French spoken, and German, for that matter. And some Russian, as well. So, after a couple of approaches to Euros who don’t speak English  you stop assuming that every white dude is “your anglophone bro.”

–I have a sense that yes, there is some advantage to being a white guy in Hong Kong. Probably a lingering thing from the 150 years that Hong Kong was an English colony.

There seems to be some degree of extra patience, with Anglos. Even when they are behaving badly, say, in the more Euro regions of Mid-Levels or the everyday bacchanal that is the Lan Kwai Fong bar/party district in Central.  Or just behaving lamely. Like not knowing how systems or customs work or what is proper, or have trouble picking out the correct change from a pile of coins. Or not knowing a word of Cantonese.

I don’t know if the Chinese — or Hongkongers, in particular — are patient with everyone, with the other minorities, such as Filipinos and Indonesians and Indians. Perhaps they are. Perhaps not.

If Euros get a break, it probably is a function of history and job description and perceived economic status.

The Brits ran the place for a very long time, and every Hongkonger over the age of 18 or so can remember when the Union Jack flew over what was a British colony. So, perhaps it is something that remains in the back of the minds of Hongkongers — that the white man is The Man. Even though he no longer actually is.

Then there are the job descriptions here. Practically none of the whites here are domestics or servants — as is often the case with the Filipinos and Indonesians, who are overwhelmingly female — and appear to be raising every middle-class (or richer) kid on the island (Chinese or white). Most of the white guys are involved in finance or insurance. Some big firm. Lots of them have some sort of title. I would think nearly all have college degrees because you come to Hong Kong to work, not to play.

Hence, the average white guy is, I believe, perceived to have some money. And business people everywhere (and the business of Hong Kong is business) probably are going to be a little more accommodating to someone who might be spending big. Not all white guys do. But they might.

Anyway, then, instead of me being at a disadvantage by being a member of a tiny, 1-in-200 minority, it probably served as an advantage,  in daily life.

–I mentioned earlier there is very little race tension that I could see, or even heard about. But there also is, as I noted, very little apparent social interaction between races here. White folks don’t seem to  have Chinese friends who don’t seem to have Indian friends who don’t seem to have Indonesian friends. Not that I saw. Outside of work, everyone pretty much sticks to their own groups. Language is the biggest divider, but culture is right there, too, and when you’re considering Euro vs. Chinese vs. South Asian vs. Islanders … well, those are some pretty big divides, in any direction.

–Also, being white in Hong Kong … I believe you are perceived to be someone who is not going to be here long. I never looked up this stat, but of the 36,000 non-Asians in Hong Kong, I bet only a tiny fraction (another guestimate: maybe 10 percent?) have been here more than five years. And almost no non-Asian adult has lived here his or her entire life. Non-Asians  are here for a time, two years, three, maybe five, and they generally enjoy it, take advantage of the hospitality — then leave.

So perhaps that makes the Chinese patient, as well. The idea that “even if that white guy was rude, he’s gonna be gone soon” seems to be out there. And they’re right.

This is not to say the Chinese see themselves as somehow inferior to non-Asians. I am convinced they don’t believe that. Not for a minute. My sense (and readings on) China seems to indicate that the average Chinese is every bit as convinced of his culture’s superiority as the most “Proud to Be an American” Yank or “God Save the Queen” Brit or “Shrimp on the Barbie” Aussie.

At the end of this stay, I can’t say I really have any special insight on what it means to be a “minority” in the traditional American usage. Which is oppression or lack of opportunity, or even someone who might be the subject of casual hostility or even violence. That just didn’t happen.

I was a member of a numerically insignificant group. But for the reasons I mentioned above, and perhaps some others I never divined, I never felt disadvantaged in the slightest. Which is what makes being a “minority group” meaningful. As opposed to just being someone who looks different.

Would the HK model of a sort of self-imposed race separation work in the U.S.? Could it be a way to end race conflict? Probably not. We are a far more engaged with each other, if not always in a positive way. And most Americans are not going to get up one morning, pack up their stuff and fly back to their country of origin. Most people in the United States are going to stay, and we need to figure out how to get along.

When I get back, I will be thinking about this more. Comparing and contrasting. One of the great advantages to traveling someplace both far away and more than a little exotic.