Two men sit on a peak at Hong Kong's Lamma Island, Oct. 2, 2012.
If Snowden has a natural fan base in Hong Kong, it would be among the blunt-rolling, hirsute residents of this scruffy isle, a 25-minute sail southwest of the Central business district. Home to impecunious freelancers, resting actors, pale folk-poets, NGO types and other rent refugees, Lamma offers a surfeit of potential safe houses and sofas to the fugitive freedom fighter. Given that he blew a ton of cash on room service at the Mira, Snowden would also be delighted to discover that he could easily eke out what means remain to him at the island’s many cheap restaurants. Laying his hands on the right props for a deep-cover layover would also be simplicity itself: a 2G phone, a dog and a pouch of rolling tobacco are all that’s needed to gain admission to the island’s toniest circles.