Hong Kong, Pt. 2
A city with so much to offer, it couldn't fit in a single post.
*Apologies for the long break between articles. I took it on myself to become a smidgen of an Adobe Premiere (tm) expert in the last couple of months to make a little side project. I am getting backed up on trips (poor me, I know), so I will be nose to the grindstone from now until the end of June, at least. Anyway, right back into Hong Kong…*
Waking up on my fourth day in Hong Kong on autopilot, I went out immediately in search of coffee. My hotel, while comfortable, didn’t have great cafezinho options- and the Starbucks adjoining the lobby wouldn’t cut it, either. I dropped by for a fast cup at Sense Coffee Company: a coffee shop wedged into a space no more than 6 feet wide between a cutlery store and a sports shop. The slim pickings for a sit-down brew in such narrow environs left me again standing outside and looking at the latest line of tennis rackets and chef’s knives while awaiting my fruity and florally Ethiopian cold brew. The shop sold coffee by the flask as well, so I threw one in my pocket (all hail the convenience of cargo shorts) to drink later.
Another day in Hong Kong, and I was headed by bus to Lantau Island- the largest of the islands here, and known mostly for being the site of one of the three Disney locations in Asia. I would not be partaking in the Magic Kingdom, because if I did, my kids would probably disown me. Instead, I was rendezvousing with a couple of fellow Americans I had met at a bar a few days prior, and headed for the cable car station. The Nong Ping 360 is an almost 6-kilometer-long cable car that took us deep into the mountains of Lantau. The goal was to visit the adjacent sites of the Po Lin Monastery and the imposing Tian Tan Buddha- and see some more of the island if time allowed.
I again found myself marveling at how easy it is to navigate Hong Kong. All signs were in English, people were incredibly helpful if you asked a question, and Google Maps’ “live bus/train” feature meant it took little effort to get anywhere you could want to go. So easy was my bus trip that I got to the cable car station an hour before I was meant to. Clearly old habits die hard, as a “being early is a virtue” ex-evangelical. Thankfully, next door was a just-opened mall. Containing your standard “Lacoste”-style outlet fare, with enough searching I was still able to find a quality coffee roastery called The Cupping Room (no massages or drinkware for sale here) and snag an Indonesian AeroPress and a steam bun- and so I spent the hour sipping cafe, reading Murakami and finding peace amidst the New Balances and Shake Shacks in the world of commerce.
The Bostonians arrived, we grabbed tickets (the “Octopus” card once again saving me from standing in yet another line), and boarded for the 25-minute trip on the sky tram. For the last 20 years, this tram has carried passengers on a scenic tour of Lantau Island, over the Nei Lak Shan mountain to the Ngong Ping hillside. Traveling from the northeast part of the island to the westernmost section on the car’s 5.7-kilometre (3.5 miles) cable, the sky tram also took us past the Hong Kong International Airport where I found out that one of my new friends seemed to know a heck of a lot about airplanes- telling models and makes despite them being small blips. Neat trick.
30 minutes later, we arrived in the Ngong Ping village. It was a little pre-contrived, touristy, and reminiscent of Disneyland. We opted out of the Monkey’s tale theater, the tea house, and other- I don’t want to use the term faux- but yeah, faux trappings of the village and opted instead to walk directly over to the main draw- the Big Buddha.
For over 30 years, the Big Buddha (officially the Tian Tan Buddha- but “Big Buddha” is too tempting not to say) has been considered the largest seated bronze Buddha in the world. A whopping 34 meters tall and 250 tons of bronze make up this formidable statue, but this copper creation doesn’t even crack the top ten biggest Buddhas in the world. The kaiju-sized Buddha market is incredibly competitive, it turns out1. We sweaty travelers climbed the 268 steps in midday heat to reach the Big Buddha base (say that 5 times fast), and once there, were treated to an impressive view of the ocean, densely forested peaks, and the Buddhist compound nestled far below.
The statue is surrounded by pots of lotus flowers and six bronze statues of godlike “devas”- women offering up gifts to the Buddha (items like flowers, music, and fruit) with an area below the statue serving as a museum, holding a purportedly holy relic with the cremated remains of the Buddha inside- but it was closed for lunchtime. Such is life.
After the requisite view-taking, we descended the stairs and spent some time next door in the Po Lin monastery. Scorching sun and humidity meant a brief respite in the shady courtyard, with an ostentatious red-and-gold bedecked temple interior, was a welcome change. Despite being mid-October, the skies threatened rain, and a temperature in the mid-90s (35 degrees for the Celsius-heads out there) meant strolling around was no joke.
The monastery is almost 120 years old, the big-boy Buddha was built as a recent add-on to the complex of several shrines, halls, a hostel, and a nunnery2. Originally and charmingly named “The Big Hut” (大茅蓬), Po Lin’s main temple houses three bronze statues that represent the past, present, and future lives of Buddha. The main hall, almost suffocated in incense smoke and tapestries, is an explosion of color. After years of austere beige evangelical buildings, I really never get tired of the way so many colors make me feel.
After grabbing some much-needed water (and a pear Fanta3 for me), the three of us called an audible and hopped on a bus to head to the southwestern-most part of the island and experience the Tai O fishing village and grab a fresh seafood lunch. The ease of travel broke down a bit at this point- there was a dearth of signage to be found, so as a spur-of-the-moment decision, we boarded the first bus full of locals that we saw and hoped for the best. My up-to-then dependable internet also failed at this point, so I was reliant on the Chowdaheads for assurance that we were headed in the right direction (“yah intahnets naht workin? Fahkin’ we-yad” was the New England exclamation).
As has a charming way of happening sometimes, it all worked out. After twenty breakneck minutes of flying around curves on a local bus with no seatbelts, we found ourselves in the small fishing village of Tai O near the terminus of the island.
Tai O (meaning “Large Inlet”) is called the “Venice of Hong Kong” for its canal waterways and houses built right on the water. Only 1,200 people or so, this village now relies more on tourism as an industry than on fishing. Fishermen are mostly acting on a subsistence level now, with families earning extra income selling dried fish, squid, and shrimp paste outside their shophouses in the town’s narrow streets.
Not having a guide (or internet), I did a deep dive into the village’s history when I returned home. Crazy fascinating, it turns out- Tai O was the main point of “illegal” immigration for those fleeing the Chinese civil war in the 1920s, and was their entry to Hong Kong. It also attracted many native Hakka people who were displaced by the British occupancy of Hong Kong. And it was also a haven for pirates, with a battle4 being fought between Chinese buccaneers and a joint British/American fleet, which for the 1850s was no small team up.
But, history aside, you may ask: how was the food? It was getting late and we were hungry, so after a quick check of restaurants on the main strip of the village, we settled in at Tung Fong Siu Kee Yuen. This family restaurant served us a mid-afternoon kip of morning glory shrimp (shell on, which always makes me sad), squid fried rice, fried spring rolls (best part), and dim sum. Washing it down with a couple of liters of ice-cold San Miguel5 helped the whole meal come together. Thanking the owners (and getting an enthusiastic “thumbs up” in return), we headed down the main riverfront drag towards the Old Tai O public pier, stopping by a couple of temples and shrines- and whatever other off-shoot signs we saw along the way.
Like everywhere else in Hong Kong, I wish I had more time in Tai O to walk the entire island and go to places like the Fu Shan Viewing Point- where the viewer has a good chance of seeing Chinese White Dolphins, but I only learned about this later. Instead, I have to console myself with the lovely stroll around the southern rim of the island, joking around about the differences and similarities of being a 90s kid- and stopping and petting every cat along the way (fishing villages are naturally always full of cats). The island felt quite empty for a Friday afternoon- we visited another temple and a seemingly abandoned Wing Chung school without seeing another soul.
Feeling good to rest after all the go-go-go time, we whittled away some time watching the gulls and cranes at the old ferry point on the edge of the island. A panorama of grey-blue water giving way to rocky outcroppings and verdant green jungle made the place seem even more remote- the only other humans in sight were on fishing boats and distant cargo ships edging out towards the horizon.
Slowly making our way back to the village in the late afternoon, we were dismayed to find the bus to Ngong Ping (and to our sky tram) no longer in service for the day. Eventually, we rousted the solitary snoozing taxi driver in the bus station lot who, after sighing deeply and putting out his cigarette like it was the world’s greatest inconvenience6, took us (also at a freakishly dangerous speed) back to the giant Buddha, touristy village, and our sky tram escape route.
The cable car dropped us off at the station around 5:30. We’d been on Lantau for about six hours (90 minutes or so in transit). And as the sun set into a captivating array of colors, we stood on the staircase for the station in rapt attention, listening to the buzz of cicadas and the splash of a nearby local pool. Wearing a Dodgers hat and standing out decidedly as a non-Hong Konger, I found myself in conversation with a couple of other Americans, from Texas and Missouri, who were watching the sunset with us, and they filled me in on how their travels to mainland China had gone (not well, it seemed).
A gang of five Americans now, we rode the rush-hour subway back towards Central Hong Kong while we shared camera tips, travel stories, and what it was like screen printing t-shirts in Kansas City. My even newer-found friends were leaving that night for the States, so after sharing details to be in touch later, we bid the lovely couple adieu and headed off to grab some dinner and drinks. I had hyped up “Call Me Al” (I still hate that song) to the boys, and they were eager to give it a try.
Back again for round 2 at CMA, and this was not the same laidback bar/foodery I remember- after a quick hotel stop to sort out my e-sim7, I found myself back at Al’s, and a place that was standing room only. Chloe, the manager, was kind enough to grab me a stool near the open-air entrance, where the staff would come by and give me drinks and rib me by calling me “the bouncer.” Eventually, my friends joined after freshening up at their place, and we got a seat at the window bar- only two seats available, so I gallantly stood outside, eating and drinking through the low-slung large windows of the place.
Despite how busy they were, the servers, bartenders, and even a cook I had met the other night kept coming back over to say hi, ask how my trip was going, and where I’d been- they were ecstatic we had made it over to Tai O, and the drinks and food were just as good as they were earlier in the week. In addition to more cocktails- deeper cuts off the menu as well as more of the “Me and Julio”, which by now was my favorite drink of the trip- I had the peaches and burrata (pickled cantaloupe, crispy serrano ham, habanero hot honey, herbs) and the spicy chorizo rigatoni. Kyle and Brad had smash burgers and said that, if anything, I had undersold just how perfect a burger it was. More stories about life in New England (and they finding out about the eccentricities of living abroad) and getting plastered to boot, I bid my buddies goodnight and made plans to meet up in the morning for a day of museums across the harbor.
Another difficult-to-rise morning (“how did I drink like this all the time in my twenties?”). Water, Tylenol, and coffee, in that order, were just what the doc ordered. A quick message to the fellas found them in a similar headache-y predicament, so I used my banked time to video chat with the family and grab another coffee at Sense (so convenient, fast, and delicious), and head by MTR back into Kowloon again. If I were to stay in HK again, I would probably choose a place in Kowloon- Central was perfect, especially for a first visit, and had tons of food- but Kowloon had the history.
I scurried off to have breakfast with the Boston boys at yet another classic Hong Kong mainstay, one meant to help the morning after a marathon drinking sesh: the Cha Chaan Teng, basically the equivalent of a greasy spoon diner. A couple of blocks walking from the Jordan station, I was at Victory Restaurant, in a packed little corner booth that, if you told me it was NYC in the 80s, I’d have believed ya. Here, a patron finds limited menu options: breakfast sets consisting of noodles, soup, eggs, or a sandwich. I tucked into a gristly piece of fat that could generously be called a ham steak and a couple of what I took at first to be rubberized gag fried eggs, with the driest of white toast. We were here because rumor had it that their pineapple buns- a sweet bread that contains no pineapple, but is named after similarities in surface appearance- were to die for. By the time of our brunch, they were sold out, so I guess I’ll never know just how tasty they are. I settled for a royal milk tea to wash down the gristle instead. The bill was only $15 for the three of us, so I guess you get what you pay for.
After what could loosely be called brunch- and possibly more queasy than before, we took the MTR a few minutes back to the south part of Kowloon. Strolling along the promenade, we wanted to see what the museum scene of HK had to offer. After a sunny walk through the West Kowloon Cultural District, we found ourselves at M+, a massive gallery of contemporary art and cinema, as well as an incredibly hip hangout space for the glamorously bohemian Hong Kongese youths.
For an entrance fee of twenty bucks (if I lived here I would for sure become a member), we had access to a massive amount of art: a special I.M Pei exhibit, loads of video installations, and other post-modern accoutrements, and a relaxing, scenic rooftop garden with a view of the harbor. The 3-screen movie theater was showing Lynch’s “Dune” as well as the trippy French flick “City of Lost Children”- both favorites of mine- so I knew that my new friend Brad had used excellent google-fu in face of the at least 15 museums in a square kilometer radius.
Opening only in 2021, the M+ used the preexisting tunnels of the airport train and reclaimed Victoria harbor space to create a massive 18-story structure that is both functional and aesthetically pleasing. The facade is comprised of almost half a million terracotta tiles. The building itself is sandwiched between the verdant green of a massive, new Kowloon park and the bay itself. This must be premium real estate, so it’s cool that the City regulators carved this space out for more abstract matters...
The art exhibits themselves were a mixed bag, as most contemporary art exhibits are- an “Ephemeral Tech” piece consisting of smoke bubbles and digital screens was pretty cool, a couple of colorful Yayoi Kusama pieces were eye-catching, and a sittable roof garden installation made an aesthetically pleasing functional hangout space. Inside, some more… interesting choices were exhibited, including one of the most 90s pieces I’d ever seen- “Stratégie en Chambre”: a massive pile of newspapers, toys, and McDonald’s trash with statues of a shouting Bill Clinton and Boris “yelling” Yeltsin. But despite some duds, there were great interactive pieces and one of my favorite exhibits: a retro-cool wing of advertising art of the 80s and plastic-derived household goods of the 60s- credit cards, fax machines, and kitchen stools never looked more futuristic.
One of the perks of meeting up randomly with new friends as opposed to traveling with one’s own younger children is the ability to kind of meander along at ones own pace- sometimes Kyle, Brad and I would watch the same video piece on indigenous Peruvian mask makers- and other times I would wander away for another gander at the I.M. Pei exhibit. With over 4 floors of art, there is no shortage of nooks and crannies to explore, and the exhibits rotate quarterly.
Having spent at least three hours looking through installations and sitting in black rooms watching leaves unfurl on video in real time, I decided to take my leave of interior art and visit the sun-dappled rooftop garden. Iced espresso tonic in hand from the bougie cafe, I had golden light, coffee, and photos to take- which ended up being one of the best afternoons I spent in Hong Kong. Eventually, the other fellas found me, and we decided to get a little high— well, not “high” as much as “tipsy”, but on cocktails from the top floor of the Ritz-Carlton building. At 118 floors up, Ozone has one of the best, booziest, and most vertiginous8 views in all of Hong Kong.
We snagged a late-afternoon table near the windows, just in time for the sun to set- a pleasant turn of events that made this hasty decision even better. Ozone’s menu featured an extensive sake and scotch list along with “elemental” cocktails that may have been a little too “extra”, as the kids say, but prices less sky-high than than I anticipated, and bougie appetizers consisting of sweet potato fries, goat cheese, and pomegranate dip made for a better than expected experience- a touch of bourgeois in a cargo-shorts trip.
Another night of bouncing around from place to place, experiencing the city after dark- highlights include an opulently insane mall nearby the Tsim Sha Tsui MTR, another trip to the Harbor to get my late night waterfront neon fix in, and dinner and drinks at an Australian dive bar called “Ned Kelly’s Last Stand” with sticky floors and delta blues sung by locals. The night was capped off in a retro-drenched bar, singing Oasis, Britney Spears, and Backstreet Boys songs with college kids, and proving (mostly to myself) that I still have what it takes to hold my own in a beer pong game. Exhausted, I crashed out back at my hotel to get ready for my last full day in HK, riding solo yet again.
My last full day in Hong Kong was again a bit of a late starter- must’ve been those cocktails so high above sea level, or maybe it was the beer pong. I headed out- where else- to get more coffee, this time from “Shu”, a waterfront business in Sheung Wan near my hotel. More of an apocalyptic bunker than cozy decor, the concrete-clad decor still boasted some fantastic small-batch beans- so good that I had to try a couple of cups to really get my day going: an Ethiopian Yirgacheffe americano and Guatemalan Antigua were perfectly balanced. Properly caffeinated, I set out for another day of exploring. My first stop would be to get my hands (and stomach) on some goose.
Yat Lok has been a family restaurant in Central HK since 1957. Boasting a rock-solid 3.4 stars on Google reviews, it may cause this spot to be overlooked by the less-informed culinary set, and that would be an egregious error. On taste alone, this place is easily 5-stars. Crowding around a metal table with three other families and not even room to lift my elbows, some would take issue with that level of mob ambiance, though years of living in Asia have inured me to cramped quarters. I am now completely used to feeling like a giant who causes inconvenience for those around me due to my gargantuan-ness, and for this I am thankful- because then all that matters is the food- not the “attitude of the servers” as some more feisty reviews stated.
And how was the food? The goose leg was perfection: a 20-step process and ultimately quick-charred and delivered in a bowl of lai fun noodles (“we put the ‘fun’ in noodles!” is probably their tagline in Cantonese). I also had some Char Siu pork, because I am a sucker for some pork belly. Hot, crispy, with just enough fat to give the broth the perfect mouth feel, this was a brilliant meal and maybe the food I think about the most since returning home. Worthy of being included in the Michelin group- maybe $25 USD is a bit much to some, but for drink, appetizer, and goose-y main course, it was well worth the price- and the crowds.
After lunch, a 30-minute MTR trip got me to northeastern Kowloon. My afternoon plan was slight, for me- it consisted of three photogenic spots- first up the Nan Lian gardens, whose underpass entrance belies the beauty within, then Wong Tai Sin Temple, followed by the uber-trendy spot of the Choi Hong estate complex- also called the “rainbow” apartments, where jockeying for best camera position was a contact sport…
The Nan Lian Garden was, like all of my park and garden visits in HK, a luxurious oasis of calm. Walking nonchalantly through the 10-acre park, I discovered hidden charms- secluded waterfall paths (the manmade nature of which didn’t undermine the artistry and serenity exuded) and even a semi-empty museum devoted to elaborate French moving-figure music boxes9. In the middle of the large garden, the “Pavilion of Absolute Perfection”- a golden pagoda set in the middle of a small lake, accessible by two red foot bridges. Even though there was considerable foot traffic, the park had so many divergent paths and impressive shrubbery that I never felt congested.
After a respite (and learning about movable clocks), I made my way over to the Chi Lin nunnery- the creators and caretakers of Nan Lian- by crossing a footbridge atop a busy highway. Then I found myself in another sanctuary of peace surrounded by lotus flowers and Tang Dynasty architecture. In total, this massive compound hosts more than 20 buildings and is a total of 360,000 sq ft. Built with cypress wood in the style of the “Caves of the Thousand Buddhas”- an ancient system on the Silk Road in Northwestern China- all of it is built without the use of any nails, and at present the world's largest hand-made wooden building and has been so for the last hundred years. Even with roving tour groups of children and elderly alike, nothing can detract from how… harmonious this place feels. The design of the nunnery’s main building highlighted the intricacy and tranquility felt throughout my visit here.
After seeing the peaceful side of Buddhist practice, it was time to visit a far more… commercially-minded religious institution: the Wong Tai Sin Temple. Wong Tai Sin is a Taoist temple, built by an herbalist who originally started the shrine in an apartment building that burned to the ground around the time of World War 1.
The site was built in 1925 after the owner received a message from Wong Tai Sin, the healing god, giving the temple (and district) its name. The shrine is known particularly for using a numbered stick system called Kau Chim for divination and fortune-telling. For a price (donations are encouraged, and a professional reading of your fortune is gonna cost ya10), a patron shakes out several numbered sticks, while keeping one question in mind, and each stick corresponds to one of 100 differing answers. The Wong Tai Sin temple is known for answering prayers, literally: "What you request is what you get" (有求必應) is the motto.
A bustling and vibrant temple, there is so much happening in any part of the packed grounds- sort of like a religious county fair: trinkets, oracles, and fortunes sold at the front, with bright flags, brilliant building façades, and mopey tourists throughout. Unlike most fairs, a thick layer of incense burning from dozens of braziers permeates and hangs in the air. A huge conglomeration of tourists inundated the venue. Some spectators, like I was, but most seemed to be on some level or other adherents to Daoism.
This cluster of humans seems to be nothing, historically- for on Chinese New Years, there is a veritable “gold luck rush” (coined by me) wherein thousands of devotees race in right at midnight to offer their incense to Wong Tai Sin himself, who lived as a man 1,700 years ago. The earlier the incense is offered in the New Year, the more luck the offeree will have for the next year. Hence the “gold rush”.
A stimulating sight in red, gold, and blue, with crowds pushing smoke aside as they mobbed the place, and the continual drone of chanting/praying worshippers made the temple-shrine of Wong Tai Sin hard not to want to stay all day long. I easily could have accrued terabytes of pictures- but a self-imposed strict schedule to see as much as possible on this trip meant I needed to leave for my last highlight of my day.
Ten minutes down the green line, a left down a nondescript alley road, and I arrived at the block of apartments known as the Choi Hung estates. Another amazing Hong Kong history spot soon to be relegated to the dustbin of forward progress- the blocks are being phased out of existence, possibly starting demolition as soon as next year. The 10 complex “rainbow apartments”, as they are known, were opened in the early 1960s and held 43,000 occupants- a record-setting number for the time. A more egalitarian and optimistic vision of what Hong Kong could be, the site attracted celebrity and political attention: a pre-presidential Ol’“Tricky” Dick Nixon himself visited within the first few years of it opening. He played badminton on the same court where I was now snapping pictures11. A pair of English Princesses made a point to seek out the apartments in the swingin’ 60s as well, if you are more impressed by birthright monarchy than with self-made Quaker criminal presidents…
Though faded, the colorful paint of the apartments, picturesque palm trees ringing the central basketball, tennis, and badminton courts are still a sight to inspire joy even more than half a century later. Retaining some of that 60s idealism that seems in short supply in this era. The estate, at its heart, is a simple concept: “What if poor people didn’t hate where they could afford to live?”.
The place was flooded with Instagrammers looking for some clout- having no shame, they would interrupt pick-up basketball games by setting down their tripods, ring lights in the middle of the court, and proceed to do what I can only assume is some sort of TikTok(or Weibo, since I am in China, I guess) trending dance. I tried, as always, to be cognizant that this was a lived-in space where people were getting on with their existence and not just a snap-worthy one.
The urge to snap sated for the time being, I sat on a bench in the courtyard and watched Estate activity unfold. Mostly oblivious to the parasitic social media mongrels, there were games of tag, basketball, childish scooter races, a soccer practice, bubble blowing, and skipping rope- all finding space enough in this large open-air rainbow-hued sporting ground. I’m glad I dropped in to see it before it disappeared forever.
Late in the afternoon, I headed back to Central. I made a quick hotel stop-off to freshen up and ate a simple, delicious Thai meal of spicy Pad Kee Mao in a food court on Queen Street. I even had a Chang beer, drinking the mediocre but oh-so-cold brew in honor of the four years I spent living in Bangkok. After dinner, I met up one last evening with my new-fangled drinking buddies at yet another rooftop place called Cardinal Point. Close to the Central MTR, this was a breeze to get to and boasted an outstanding and unobstructed view of the harbor and Victoria Mountain. Perhaps not the best cocktail menu in all the places I tried during my stay, there was something to be said for the Pandan Highball- consisting of London gin, pandan (duh), mandarin orange, and “aggressively carbonated”. Bartenders should take note: you have my attention at every mention of aggressive carbonation.
From the rooftop, we moved to the basement- and one of my favorite drinking spots in all of Hong Kong- a speakeasy called “Dr. Fern’s Gin Parlour” an old-timey inspired gin joint (and once voted “top 50 best bar in Asia”) that was fun, playful, and ridiculously hard to find. Like, walk around a giant closed-down mall’s labyrinthine basement into a hotel’s sub floors, only to come out through a parking garage before entering another sublevel and then finding the bar at a dead-end hallway level hard to find. But, most importantly, the place was worth it: the drinks were go**amned delicious12, and the mostly empty bar allowed us to relax and talk without having to shout, as opposed to most bars we’d been in. And we had faster table service, so Sunday night drinking for the win.
As far as last nights in Hong Kong go, I don’t think I could have picked a better spot if I tried. I had one of my most-favorite cocktails- a bartender’s nightmare13- the “Ramos Gin Fizz,” a civil-war-era New Orleans cocktail. If you have never had one, and the thought of either egg whites or gin isn’t a bother, then you, my friend, are in for a treat. Along with the French 75, I don’t think there is a finer cocktail. In the olden times, drinking was more of a lifestyle than a hobby, and I believe that was reflected in the cocktails. Unhealthy and best not emulated, but the results speak for themselves.
After sampling a fair share of the gin concoctions at Dr. Ferns, it was time for me and my now tried-and-true traveling companions to say goodbye. It’s rare to meet people traveling abroad who seem so familiar already: people who work so that they can travel, who are inquisitive about the world, flexible in the day-to-day, and want to know more and enjoy great food, good drinks and lots of laughs— and be from Massachusetts while being those things ;). It shouldn’t be unusual to meet people like this, but in my experience, it is. Gotta love happenstance while drinking abroad. We said goodbye, promised to get together next time I was in New England (“we’d fahkin’ love to come ta Vahmant, if that’s where-a you ahh” is my terrible attempt at mimicking the accent in writing) and headed our separate ways.
Last 1/2 day in Hong Kong was odds and ends- coffee from Urban Coffee Roaster, getting more pineapple bread and an egg tart from Hei Lee Cake Shop, and grabbing some presents for my family, who were graciously holding down the fort back in Korea. For tourist shopping, there is plenty- in fact, the shopping scene, like Korea and Japan- is downright exhausting. So I recommend a couple of fantastic places to find things for just about anyone in your life: Goods of Desire (GoD), which sells all sorts of clothes, housewares, books, and Hong Kong knick-knacks perfect for presents. There, I snagged my oldest son (firmly a sullen teen now) an “angry cat”14 statue- a play on the ubiquitous lucky cats seen everywhere, but more edgy.
Another absolute peach of a place for trinkets, doodads, snacks, and stylish accessories is the Central Market, which has a little bit of everything- food, drink, a place where I watched an elderly man try out his drone obstacle-flying skills, and a pianist playing Nintendo songs in a baroque, heavily dramatic style. Here, I bought my wife some dim sum earrings made by a local artist, and my younger son got a roll-up keyboard- perfect for his burgeoning musical tastes and taking up far less room in my suitcase and our apartment.
Last nibbles in Hong Kong could be overwhelming to consider- but after the inspiration from the earrings I bought my wife, I got some (edible) dumplings from One Dim Sum. A Michelin-starred dim sum takeout place where I was lucky enough (backpack and trinkets in tow) to find one of the 5 counter spots to sit down, enjoy my cha, and lay waste to some of the best shrimp and pork belly dumplings I’ve had the pleasure of consuming. I didn’t even think I was hungry when I walked in, but I ordered another round of everything before I left. That’s how good it was.
One last espresso tonic from Chart coffee, a visit to my favorite sensory-overload Japanese “we have everything!” chain Don Quijote (description forthcoming in “Christmas in Japan” article), and I was on my way to the airport and back to Korea. While there is always more I want to see, I feel like when I am left unchecked, to my own worst/best devices, I pack my days in with more sights and experiences than the average schlub. So I felt good about all that I did, the people I met, the sights I took in- and just how damn tired my feet were from all the walking. It was a birthday adventure for the ages. Thanks to my Family and all the wonderful people I met in Hong Kong.
-JS
The Spring Temple Buddha in Henan, China was until 2018 the largest statue in the world at 420 feet (128m). https://www.springtemplebuddha.com/statue/
The nunnery predates the monastery and is a rather sad tale, as it is now comprised of only a single abbess: Mother Ting Moon, an eighty-three-year-old who has resided at the nunnery since she was 4 and, as far as I can tell, has been alone there since 1996. I can’t imagine that level of solitude.
The first time I’d ever had a Fanta was in a Hong Kong McDonald’s as a teen, I think it was Melon- but it may have been Asian Pear flavored like this one. Eye-opening.
The Battle of Ty-ho Bay, where out of an estimated 1,500 pirates, 500 were killed and one thousand captured.
A Filipino beer, but ubiquitous throughout Asia.
Yes, he was sleeping and smoking at the same time.
I have had great luck with Nomad for all my e-sim needs. It turns out the fault was completely mine- I hadn’t turned wi-fi on the previous night and had eaten through all my data watching a movie on Netflix.
Billed as the “highest rooftop bar in the world”- it turns out it actually was. Thankfully, even though it is “open air” the sides extend about 20 feet up. I could hear the air rushing the entire time we were up there, sounding like an approaching passenger jet. Hardly relaxing, even though it was super cool.
Only a nightmare because it requires five minutes of vigorous shaking to get the egg whites so pristine… Find a bartender who doesn’t skip arms day.
Worthy of the wait