Between Two Shores: Leaving Hong Kong — or Not Just Yet?

“We’re thinking about moving back more and more… but not for right now.”

How many times have you said that sentence? At a dinner with other expats in Central?On the phone with your ageing parents? In front of your screen, scrolling through photos of friends who stayed in France?

How many years have you been in Hong Kong? Five? Ten? Fifteen? You’ve stopped counting. The best dim sum in Sheung Wan. The 8:12 am ferry. Your imperfect Cantonese that makes shopkeepers smile.

And yet… something has shifted.

Life back home has continued without you. Your friends had children, divorced, rebuilt their lives, without you. And you, between two worlds, have started to ask the question:

What if it’s time to go back?

The Trap of “Not Yet. I’ll Stay a Little Longer.”

One more promotion. One more bonus. One more school year. A little more of this sunshine, this freedom, this life that feels so much richer than in France.

But let’s be honest. Behind those “not yet” lies a truth we’d rather avoid: we don’t know if we’re ready to face what awaits us.

Expatriation isn’t just a geographical choice. It is also, let’s admit it, sometimes an escape. From what, exactly? That’s the real question.

Hong Kong has become comfortable. You are the expat who dared to leave, who lives that international life many envy.

And then there’s the distance that protects you. No tense family dinners. No intrusive questions about your private life. You are free to reinvent yourself.

Going back means accepting becoming yourself again, with everything that comes with it.

What We Refuse to Admit.

Here’s what few expats dare to say out loud: we need to believe that staying is the right choice.

Because admitting otherwise might mean acknowledging we stayed too long. That we missed moments. That life back home continued without us.

So we tell ourselves stories. Hong Kong offers more opportunities! A better salary! And that’s true.

But is it the whole truth?

Or is it also a way of avoiding what awaits us? That country we’ve either idealised (“Ah, France, the cheese!”) or demonised (“The taxes, the weather, the strikes…”).

There’s this fear that going back would mark the end of the adventure. As if returning meant failing.

But what if returning were also an act of courage?

What if choosing consciously to go back, not by default, not out of guilt, but by choice, were simply the next chapter of your story?

The Real Questions

Before deciding, ask yourself these questions:

• What am I really running from? France? Or a version of myself I don’t want to face?

• What am I still looking for here? Is it real? Or just a comfortable habit?

• What is really waiting for me in France?

  
  

The reality. Your parents have aged. Your friends have different lives. You’re not “going home.” That home no longer exists.

How can I make this return an upward move?

Not a regression. A conscious evolution.

Because here’s the truth: life is movement.

Everything evolves. Everything transforms. Not choosing out of fear is already choosing stagnation.

Turning the Return into Momentum

Returning will not be what you imagine. Neither the paradise you fantasise about. Nor the disaster you fear.

France has changed. You have too.

Your friends have children you barely know. Private jokes you’re no longer part of. You may discover that you’ve become a stranger in your own country.

That’s neither good nor bad. It’s simply true.

So how do you turn your return into momentum?

By choosing consciously?

Not returning by default, from exhaustion, or out of guilt.

But returning is because it is your decision. Thought through. Aligned with who you have become.

This decision isn’t binary. It’s made of nuances. Of grief and hope intertwined.

You have the right to be afraid. The right to have doubt.

But stagnating out of fear of choosing? That’s not caution. That’s paralysis.

Returning is not the end of the adventure. Refusing to evolve is.

Whether you stay in Hong Kong or return to your home country, it must be a forward movement.

To choose is to live. Not to choose is already to die a little.

If this reflection resonates with what you’re experiencing, I invite you to reach out to me.

Consultations available online, in Paris, or in Hong Kong.

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