“It’s a pretty easy life when you think about it,” one of my dinner companions says with a sweeping gesture. Between the thick Australian accent and mouthfuls of Kingway beer (never Fosters; “Only Americans drink that shit,” he tells me), I’m registering his words on a 3-second time delay. We’re sitting in Hong Kong’s Soho, surrounded by galleries, bars and restaurants that could easily have been sliced and transported from Chelsea or the post-gentrification Lower East Side. Around us sit a cross section of attractive, well-dressed immigrants with shiny hair and Blackberries peeking from tailored pockets. Accents – Australian, Dutch, German, the occasional British or American – stand out in the well-lubricated din, as young bankers, bond traders and other journeyman masters of the universe swig cocktails and discuss this week’s market activity or weekend plans – should we rent a booze junket, or hop a ferry to Macau and spend the night at the Blackjack tables?

“They make it easy,” he goes on, pausing as the Chinese waiter serves our chicken fajitas, grilled tuna salads and salmon penne. Despite having subsisted on prawn dumplings, shark fin soup, cold cuttlefish balls and steamed pork buns for the past four days, I’m less than thrilled to see the “genuine Western” fare. “Your company pays your living stipend, so you have an apartment in the Mid Levels, with the pool and the concierge. Then you get the daily maid, the live in nanny, the cook if you want, the travel allowance to go home. Plus anything you miss from home, chances are it’s here.”

No arguing with that – Central Hong Kong is a tropical Midtown, a Shangri La of abject capitalism, the immaculate streets and maze-like walkways lined with enough luxury to satiate every material whim. Can’t find a Gucci or Ferragamo in this 3-block radius? No need to fret – just cross the street, chances are there’ll be one within ten feet. Need a jelly-filled Krispy Kreme? An extra crispy chicken combo? A Slim-N-Trim turbinado smoothie? Check one of the myriad shopping centers, they’re all there.

“We have a real community, we have restaurants, bars and clubs where we all hang out. Beer is cheap. It’s easy to have a great time.”

And you never have to be reminded that you’re living in China, surrounded by Chinese people. I take a bite of penne and hold my tongue – like most of the Australians I’ve met in Asia, he’s been nothing but friendly. No need to get confrontational.

“I mean, we bring in so much money. Why wouldn’t they want to make us comfortable? We’ve been here for long enough; everyone’s used to us by now.”

Sure – in the city’s 6,000-year-old history, Westerners have been around for about 150 years. Bring on the Prada & KFC!