My night in the clouds at the Ritz-Carlton Hong Kong: it is the highest hotel in the world and offers stunning views from a height of 500 meters.

The elevator is one of the fastest in the city, traveling at 30 feet per second. Which means it takes one minute and 10 seconds to get to the check-in desk on the 103rd floor of the Ritz-Carlton Hong Kong, where you pick up your key and take in the view for the first time.

At least that’s the idea. But since it is the tallest hotel in the world, it is so high that for much of my stay the only thing I can see are clouds.

Still, it’s pretty exciting and explains why people pay around £380 ($480) a night for a spot so high above the twinkling skyline of Hong Kong’s Kowloon region.

The hotel occupies floors 102 to 118 of the International Trade Center (ICC), a glass beacon that was only made possible by the 1998 closure of an airport famous for requiring hair-raising descents as planes passed between skyscrapers and towering apartment buildings. .

Superlatives appear strongly and quickly. The Ritz-Carlton has the highest swimming pool in the world (at almost 1,600 feet or 490 m), and its Ozone bar, at the top of the hotel, proudly carries the title of “Asia’s tallest rooftop bar.”

The hotel is 46 stories taller than The Shard in London, which is just 72 stories, and is 505 feet (153 m) taller than the Eiffel Tower. I arrived on the Airport Express train, which conveniently arrives at the basement of the ICC (although I am an anomaly among other guests, who arrive in chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royces).

It’s disappointing not to have a room at the top of the tower, but any complaints quickly subside when I open the heavy door to my luxury suite and enter a huge living room, with a desk, armchair, and padded windows.

Angled floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the South China Sea and Hong Kong Island. Some of the skyscrapers look so small that you want to pick them up and put them in your pocket. After a quick shower following my 13-hour flight from London, I head to the pool and gym on the 118th floor to work up an appetite.

I return two hours later and discover that the clouds have once again painted my view. They feel intimidatingly close: all I can see is white, like I’m on a plane going through a storm.

I spend much of the day exploring Hong Kong Island’s bustling markets and back streets, which are packed with locals and tourists. They queue outside small teahouses and noodle bars, while men push carts full of steaming dim sum.

That night, I head to the 102nd floor of the hotel for dinner at Tin Lung Heen. “Sorry about the view,” the waiter says as he leads me to my table; The rain drips through the window. I can make out some of the tallest towers in the city.

The next day, during breakfast, they ask me: “How are you this morning, Mrs. Sime?”

“On top of the world,” answers my response. He doesn’t notice my attempt at a joke, and before he knows it, I’m being dragged 118 stories back to earth, in more ways than one.