Hong Kong
You can’t help but think that you’ve missed the former glory of Hong Kong: the madcap era of industrial manufacturing that caused high rises to burst into being, the heady days of the 1980s when big finance boomed, or the more recent moment when the British reluctantly let go.
Perhaps even better would be to witness the street protests that were a lash-out against the Mainland’s controls and a future that’s clearly China-bound. Now Hong Kong is a bit more sleepy when compared to its shiny sisters like Shanghai or Guangzhou, and a little ashamed that it lost so much of its exceptional urban history in its own race for progress.
Fabulous neon signs still glow on Nathan Road despite regulations that prevent them. But it’s in the early morning light that you can still see traces of what Hong Kong once was, such as the Sham Shui Po neighborhood with its streets dedicated to ribbons, buttons, and beads, the old-school Tai Hang enclave with its lovely temple, or the Hong Kong House of Stories offering a bright tale of neighborhood survival.
Real estate may be among the most expensive in the world here, but eating out is not. And so no one eats at home, turning the city into a giant kitchen. Dim sum chaos reigns at the cart-pushing, steam-filled Lin Heung Tea House, so tight with space that your teapot must be placed beneath the table. At Kung Wo Beancurd Factory, their signature tofu pudding awaits. Everywhere are small shops offering milk tea and egg tarts with perfectly crumbling crusts.
Despite the teeming surges of humanity, Hong Kong is an infinitely kind city. Cardboard mats are laid out for domestic workers on Sunday, where ladies fix each other’s hair and apply makeup. The communal grief to the tragic apartment fires that took place when I visited, which impacted mostly elderly residents in addition to domestic workers, led to a city-wide shutdown for mourning. Nearly half of Hong Kong lives in public housing, which can be discovered at the Heritage of Mei Ho House.
The outcome of so much density is a preservation of nature all around, and so a ferry must be taken to visit a wild island, such as the hipsterish Peng Chau or the southern-most island of Po Toi, with its fantastic trails along the sea. Even in the city, you can don your bathing suit and enter the South China Sea at the Sai Wan Swimming Shed, which is the only remaining such structure (out of about a dozen that once existed) and is now a popular Instagram spot.
For a pro tip when visiting Hong Kong, spend a day with Max, the entrepreneur behind Lantau Blue. The British moved his grandfather’s village to the location where he now holds his indigo workshop on Lantau Island, and the dying takes place where the pigs were once kept. Max, who learned his craft in Taiwan, will ply you with oolong tea as he guides you in the creation of your masterpiece. There we transformed a piece of linen from white to a heavenly blue, with a repetitive natural pattern that turned out so beautiful I had to fight back the tears. Then, from his grandfather’s garden, Max gathered a few seeds from his indigo trees – originally from India, then Taiwan, then Lantau – which have now sprouted in my own little garden.
Here’s my photo essay on Hong Kong.
