Hong Kong has its own visual fingerprint. With its shimmering buildings stretching to the sky, shoulder to shoulder along the famous harborfront, it’s instantly recognizable. The neon signs that flank the city’s colorful streets are unmistakable, as are the brightly lit, red-and-green dai pai dong street stalls serving Hong Kong’s signature no-frill dishes.
These are the things that define Hong Kong in two-dimensional depictions. But Hong Kong isn’t a place where you go to simply sightsee. Hong Kong is a feeling to be experienced by all senses, a stimulant that courses through your veins and feeds your soul.
For me, Hong Kong is the sweet, milky taste of an egg tart fresh out of the oven, steam still rising from the golden pastry as I sink my teeth into it. It’s the smell of joss paper burning, the smoke wafting through the air as I step over the threshold of a dimly lit temple. It’s the sound of a dozen beating drums and the piercing rallying cries of rowers as they race towards the finish line during the Dragon Boat Festival. It’s the sense of serenity as I watch skilled Tai Chi practitioners move as gingerly as the rising sun behind them, nestled in a green oasis in the middle of a residential neighborhood.
