Rain, rain, rain. Its been a soggy few days in Hong Kong with thunderstorms sweeping through the city, gushing subtropical rains and occassionally lighter showers falling across the grey, gloomy city. Socks are soaked and cold water has been running down my back all day. Kind of nice to be home now in my cozy little apartment, listening to the raindrops and listening to the rolling thunder – but at the same time, some sun tomorrow would be nice.
I’ve noticed this sticker? mural? on the side of several HK minibuses. No idea what it signifies though.
This weekend I tried some interesting new dishes: fatty and delicious pork cooked in spicy Hunanese sauce and served in fresh, doughy bread from Cafe Hunan, a fermented squid paste in a Japanese restaurant (it was called “pirate” on the menu) and this astonishing vegetarian Hainan “chicken” rice at one of my favourite places, Veggie SF. It looked and tasted delicious!
We spent a day on the summery island of Lamma, leaving from the busy working harbour at Aberdeen, alive with sampans and bright flags atop fishing vessels moored in the harbour, across the busy straits where huge cargo ships powered by, and up to the green forested shores of the island, under a clear, piercingly hot blue sky. The idea was to some village houses in tangled green fields and groves of banana trees, before walking into the main settlement of Yung Shue Wan. Here we stopped for a much-needed cool pitstop in a boho-hipster cafe, drinking good coffee book and reading books off the shelf, before heading off again. This time we followed the busy walking track out of town to “Power station beach”, where the famous “tofu fa” sweet tofu dessert woman has set up her stall under the spreading branches of an old, shady banyan tree.
Slipping the beach, with its swarms of mainlanders and rather offputting view of the coal-burning power station chimneys, we pressed on, soon soaked in sweat, over blazing hillsides and shady valleys to one of the island’s quieter beaches, to sit and look up at the jungly canopy or swim with swarms of flying fish in the sea. After a few hours, with rain suddenly threatening, we hot-footed it on to the island’s second settlement, with the boyfriend limping from a wound to his foot (having stepped on submerged rocks at the beach) and me sheltering from the rain under a fallen banana leaf, to the seafood strip of Sok Kwu Wan, to eat before the journey home.
As the sun set, we boarded the ferry back to Hong Kong island and a blue, breezy evening fell over the Lamma strait. Motoring over choppy seas towards the glimmering lights of the city, we looked up to see an astonishing, enormous orange moon. It was a moment of pure romance.
An exhibition currently on show at the Hong Kong Maritime museum, next to the Star Ferry pier.
Samsen is a buzzy and much-talked-about hipster noodle joint, housed in a (pretty good) approximation of a Thai shophouse, relocated from the banks of the Chao Phraya to the backstreets of Wanchai. Although noodles are the specialty, it was the desserts that proved the real standout – coconut ice cream with sweet corn and pandanus glutinous rice balls in salted warm coconut milk. Yum!
Twenty years ago, at the ceremony to mark the return of Hong Kong to the motherland, it rained. Last night, once again, showers fell onto Hong Kong as fireworks flashed and fizzled above the harbour. I had hiked up through the forest to the Peak for the novel sensation of watching fireworks explode at eye-level, through the the silhouetted branches of the trees, while a cold rain fell, trickling down my back despite an umbrella. The ICC tower in Kowloon flashed messages in Chinese – “we are happy to return to the motherland!” and English – “Download the app” – while the post-fireworks smoke drifted across the water and grey clouds billowed across the upper atmosphere. As the smoke cleared, and the rain stopped, we walked back down through the damp, dark forest where strange lights appeared in the trees and large-sounding animals rustled in the shadows.
I must have walked past this a million times without noticing, the shuttered and now sadly gone store of a mysterious Malagasy trading company. What was the Madagascar-Hong Kong connection, I wonder? Rosewood? Dinosaur teeth? Spices? Who knows…. It is in the dingy arcade of the former Central Market, an old art deco building which has been left as a gaping open sore in Hong Kong’s centre for the last six or seven years as a legal battle rages over its prime real estate.
ilbonito blog 2007 