“Hello, Hong Kong” from the Peak

Dear Hong Kong,

It’s rare that I write letter to a place. You must know you’re special because this is the second time I’m doing so. The first time was when the plane was taking off from the airport - that moment, I realised I was leaving you, for good.

It’s been two hundred and thirty five days since I last saw you. They say time heals, but I’d say time also gives clarity.

This time, I can see you through a more neutral lens — with less emotions involved, though that doesn’t mean I care for you any less.

As soon as I stepped on your soil, I followed my routine and took the airport shuttle towards Hong Kong Island. Yes - I’ve decided to stay in Sheung Wan again because it’s where I feel closest to you.

I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with you?

You were the Pearl of the East. You were a perfect blend of East and West, but more than that, you were a fusion of all the cultures in between. You embraced people from around the world — Europe, America, Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia. Everyone found a corner in the city where they belonged. To them, and to me, you were both inclusive and exclusive.

This time, I was able to experience you thoroughly — walking down the same lanes, crossing the same footbridges, taking the same MTR lines, and waiting for the same traffic lights. The cityscape hasn’t changed much, but the atmosphere has.

I was surprised by how empty the city has become. For the first time, you seem “spacious.” There’s ample space both indoors and outdoors. Yet, I had this strange feeling, as if the breaths of those who once called this place home linger in the air, despite their departure.

It’s obvious that you’ve been shaped into something else. But even so, you still hold a special place in my heart. I love you — for who you were and who you’ve become.

“It’s been two hundred and thirty five days since I last saw you.”

This time, I felt an urge to go to the Peak.

I remember my first visit to the Peak back in 2017, shortly after I settled in the city. It was early morning, and the whole city was still asleep. With the sun’s embrace, you looked stunning. Like many others who take granted what’s close by, always looking to distant lands, I never returned to the Peak until now.

The weather wasn’t pretty when I reached the Peak. In fact, just before I hopped onto the No.1 green mini bus, it was raining cats and dogs. But I still decided to make the climb because life is short, and who knows if there will ever be a next time?

I consider myself lucky because, by the time I reached the Peak, the rain had stopped. The square was shrouded in layers of clouds — for a moment, I thought I was wandering in them. I was so happy because clouds give me that sense of carefree — as if nothing else matters.

It’s funny how both clouds and fogs are made of millions of suspended water droplets, yet the former seems more attractive to me. I guess it’s all about perspective. Would you agree?

I had booked for lunch at the Peak Lookout, a popular restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try for years but never had the chance to. And I’m grateful that I had company to share this experience with me. While dining indoors, it started raining cats and dogs again. “Damn, I guess we won’t be able to see the city panorama now,” I thought.

But luck was on my side - as it always has been. By the time we finished, the rain had stopped and the clouds, too, began to clear. Based on my memory from seven years ago, I walked toward the viewing deck and noticed many visitors taking photos — that melancholic veil of yours had finally lifted.

Unlike the Hong Kong against turquoise-blue sky that I saw on my first visit years ago, this time you seemed to emerge from an ink painting — like a shanshui painting with mountain and water-like clouds. With your towering skyscrapers defying the laws of nature, you looked shy but proud at the same time.

Standing in your presence, I had mixed feelings. I knew I had moved past the sadness I felt when leaving you and writing that first letter. Deep down, I knew I’d accepted the choices I’d made, understanding that I couldn’t be obsessed with you if I knew you weren’t my whole world. It took me some time to cope with this realisation.

And I know you’ll understand me, as you do with the rest of us who have chosen to leave you but still long for you, because, after all, you were once our home.

Now, a jeweller is taking you — the Pearl of the East, whose lustre can’t be compared to other gems — and setting you into a piece of jewellery. The design may not please everyone, but it doesn’t change the core of your being: a melting hub of cultures, a bridge that connects the East and West, an inspiration for those who aspire to build a better life, and a place that many, including myself, once called home.

With love,
S