I’ll miss the way you comfort me with crowds. I’ll miss the smells of your streets. I’ll miss your alleys and their stories. I’ll miss your mix of classical and contemporary. I’ll miss the diversity of your food.
You made me feel comfortable, like I belonged somewhere, and with all your rich and somewhat mysterious culture, renewed my pride in being Chinese.
It’ll be a long time before I see you again.
Goodbye, you beautiful city. I miss you already.
Upper Lascar Row, also known as Cat Street, is a narrow alleyway market that sells decorations, trinkets, and antiques. It’s not quite like other Hong Kong markets because it’s less commercialized (i.e. doesn’t sell as many touristy things), even though the most common buyers there seem to be foreign.
The name comes from a joke in Chinese: it’s said that if you have something stolen, you’re likely to find it for sale on Cat Street. Thieves are known as “rats” in Cantonese slang, and people who purchase goods from rats are called “cats”.
The final week of my Hong Kong food diary. It’s safe to say that I gained a few pounds, as I would continue eating even after full. The weight is mostly in my face (good) and midsection (bad). Yes, my cheeks have filled out, but now I have a muffin top. It was totally worth it though, as I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to eat many of these dishes again.
The Kwun Yam Shrine is a Buddhist shrine off Repulse Bay (named so after the British fleet repulsed pirates based there who would terrorize Chinese merchants). Unlike other Buddhist shrines, this one wasn’t off-limits to photography. It was quite interesting, as there are so many different and colourful statues, large and small.
Each statue represents a different figure in Chinese mythology, and it’s said that if you perform a certain action to a statue, something positive will happen. For example, there was the statue of a fish god there, and if you throw a coin into it’s mouth, it’s said you’ll have good fortune. There’s also the Longevity Bridge; a plaque proclaims that every time you cross the bridge, you’ll have three days added to your life. The two biggest statues at the entrance — Guan Yin and Tin Hau — were worshiped as goddesses of the mercy and the sea, particularly important if you’re a fisherman.
At one point, I came to a statue of a rock with writing engraved on it, and red ribbons around the base. My dad said, “Jeff, you need to take a lot of ribbons and tie it around the rock”. “Why?” “Because this is the god of marriage. This way you’ll meet a lot of girls.” Funny, dad.
My grandma’s apartment is in Kowloon City, a very old area of Kowloon, characterized by dirty buildings and slummy areas. There’s so much character here. It seems like every shop has a story, and every street a history. My dad told me that since it’s so hard to find parking, some restaurants have a valet park your car for you if you go in.
Since it’s a long-established area, there’s pretty much everything you need within a couple blocks, or a few minutes walk. This includes:
One of Hong Kong’s famous real estate agents said that living in such high density is a habit, and that Hong Kongers could expand outward (instead of upward) if they wanted to. I can understand why this is true, because everything is so close and convenient. When you live in the middle of all this, you really feel like you’re part of the city’s pulse.