Glancing over the glaring screen of my laptop on the data website that shows the various cities of the world I’ve visited in brick-red flags with flashing black numbers stamped on them with the amount of times I’ve visited, I spot one miniature flag that boasts higher digits than any other on the virtual globe. And it’s not because it’s the city with a plethora of friends, or the land of towering mountains cloaked in thick green flora, surrounded on all sides with metallic teal waters lapping at the edge of a civilisation born from the eternal struggles of the West and Far East.
It isn’t even because of the culmination of talent in over a thousand years of culinary excellence displayed on every corner of this bustling metropolitan, although this alone is reason enough I always fly here with the decorum of a mangy mutt in the presence of an unsupervised stack of sticky sweet and sour short ribs.
That there is no main reason that this city grabs hold and refuses to let go, but rather an amalgamation of gregarious companions, buildings that cut through the heavens and cross cultural wonders leading to your soul to be snagged by the soaring spires of Hong Kong.
If we bend the rules of time and space to end up circling around the glassy black bay window sunglasses of the highest sky bar in Asia – Ozone Bar – just around one year ago we would spot me having my first drink in Hong Kong – a cappuccino martini with a side of sake – with one of my close friends Gazza as we looked out over the view of the Victoria Harbour, nestled in securely between the methodical business based central western district and the party quarter of Yau Tsim Mong.
“Hong Kong has the petty habit of really spoiling other cities for you” he confides to me as thousands of neon signs pulsate languidly beneath us in the city. I scoffed into my drink at this proclamation, confident that the wonders of more golden and age refined cities like Milan or New York would never be paled by the comparison to this metropolis floating in clouds of typhoons and epochs of change. In time and in my travels I would come to see how right he was.
London, Paris, Bangkok, Tokyo – All amazing places of art and infrastructure, boasting of untold wonders on every corner that could consume a lost traveller for long after their time on this earth is concluded. But Hong Kong does not merely seek to impress – it envelopes; it swaddles you in its bustling streets and shifting weather, digesting you in the public mix of roaring buses, trains, taxis and ferries, cocooning you in the humid air that seeps out from the ancient emerald forests that encircle all parts of the island before refreshing you with the invigorating spray of a level red rainfall – which is code to say school and most places of business get shut down from the heavy amount of rain due to fear of drowning.
Connection with others are mere footsteps away, whether you seek spiritual guidance from other expats who claim Hong Kong as home more rapidly than they would their origin country, or to find new adventure beneath the sizzling lights of Lan Kwai Fong as you intermingle with the rich waters of intercultural libidos flooding the streets of Hong Kong from the estuaries of Europe, America, South Africa, Australia and many others looking to swim beneath the cascading waterfall of the most vibrant night life in Asia.
Or find yourself wandering aimlessly through the city, hitching a ride up the winding escalators sliding eternally up towards the higher ends of the antique streets and temples where camera flashing tourists and fervent believers mingle in a humanity-dumpling dish bursting with the fillings of faith and wonder.
Riding along the lurching roads overlooking Stanley, watching the families gather together for beach missions at Repulse Bay and revellers gathering alcohol for their Junk ride undertaking to party out in the deep Tanqueray-infested waters of Tai Long Wang – you can’t help but look around at times without thoughts like “This is where everything you could ever want seems to be” wrapping themselves around the stem of your brain.
Leaving the island city always has the sensation akin to cutting coffee out of my life; very unpleasant and it makes me wonder why I’m doing this to myself. But then I’m scheduled to have the flight there again or I have some time off to fly myself down, and I’m ready to face the city again with new found caffeine-fueled enthusiasm, knowing a cappuccino martini and shot of sake are always waiting for me upon arrival.
