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homecoming

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Over Christmas I made a trip to Hong Kong with my mom and sister, because my grandma is unwell. We tried to spend as much time as possible with her, knowing also that having visitors was also tiring for both my grandparents. So my sister and I did quite a bit of wandering.

The grimy streets, the humid air, the plume of exhaust every time a bus passes by on the narrow street. The palm trees, the emerald mountains, the tropical plants blooming in December. People who would speed walk right into you if you don’t make way quickly enough. The sea that always smells faintly like the sewer.

I love every tree, every brick, every grimy sidewalk, every pedestrian bridge in this city.

But I wonder if I would say the same if we never left. If I had to grow up and learn to be an adult in it. If I actually have to live with its various complicated political and social issues now. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I will always be able to visit as freely as I do now, with the ways the said complicated political and social issues are progressing. We’ll wait, and see, and hope. And in the meanwhile I’ll show you some pictures of this beloved city.

Porg, our travel companion, poses in front of the window at our guest house.
View from a pedestrian bridge on King’s Road with the old style tram.
Oil Street arts centre near our guest house. Folks relaxing on the lawn at lunch time.
Street market and shoppers.
Wandered into Hong Kong University, a colonial institution built in 1912.
Of course, stitching on the MTR. No one stitches on the MTR though…
Visiting Hong Kong Park. It has meerkats and lemurs. Much greenery. Also unseasonably warm this time of year.
Porg wants a photo. It’s not every day he gets to ride the MTR.
Another pedestrian bridge, another view.
A refurbished cotton factory that turned into an arts centre and retail space, with a thriving rooftop garden.
One of the many ghost signs. It’s clear that there are lots of thoughts and efforts put into preserving and showcasing the original structure. Even the benches are made from the original wooden doors.
Visited the neighbourhood where my parents grew up and met with my mom and aunt. Also where I went to kindergarten. I have a few specific memories of this place.
My parents’ families lived in small flats like these.
Toasts at tea time.
We egg tart lovers. Held on to Porg’s wing just in time to stop him from falling right in.
Spent part of our last evening at the harbour, with many groups of enthusiastic buskers, and the backdrop of the iconic Hong Kong skyline.

One of my favourite poems by Ursula Le Guin comes to mind, wherever home is for you…

May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well loved one,
walk mindfully, well loved one,
walk fearlessly, well loved one.
Return with us, return to us, 
be always coming home.

From Always Coming Home, 1985


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