In a city as packed as this, each of the 400 rooms in the Four Seasons Hong Kong would house at least a hundred. The five restaurants could feed 5,000. The workers could bring about Marx's revolution if they weren't too busy working.
I stayed there for a week last year with my boss, who had a 91 m square luxury suite overlooking Victoria Harbour. I'm not one to be blinded by frilly knockers and unnecessary flourishes, but the Four Seasons blew my complimentary silk socks off.
The lifts flew soundlessly up the 41 floors. Music played under the water in the two huge outdoor swimming pools and hot tub on the roof. Ring room service or housekeeping at any time of day or night and a smiling English-speaking bellboy would pop out of nowhere before you'd put the phone down. You can get your shirt washed and pressed in two hours, even if you call at 2.30am (this is important - I keep funny hours).
The gym has a buffet laid out in case you get peckish whilst on the treadmill. The spa offers every kind of mud you might want plastered on your face and white-aproned Chinese ladies to plaster it on. The TVs could be used to broadcast a concert at Wembley Stadium. You'd get really, really fat and lazy if you stayed here for too long.
Constant bowing and scraping from the staff can get a bit much. And you might feel a slight twinge of guilt at your lush surroundings when you think of the sardines in the block next door.
I guess.
But I wouldn't knock it for a week.
[Photo: Jay.Tong]
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