Typing in some super specific keywords, I found this gem of a site published by a media practitioner, looking back with wry humor on her experiences as a cub reporter in foreign lands, caught in the thick of Earth-shaking events as the Tiananmen massacre. It reads like something Hunter S. Thompson would write if he were female, pretty and if he didn’t shoot himself. I hope the Hong Kong she knew in her mid-20s (about my age, too) is just as colorful today.
Her narratives also made me think about persisting in making it as a reporter at some point in the immediate future, despite all the wrong turns and brain-damaging excesses. Someday, I’d like to look back on my life and my collection of mostly drunken, priceless photos and think that I’d lived just as interesting a life.