The last hour of dusk was full of life: The clinking of glasses and serveware resounded as restaurants prepared for the night’s hungry guests. As I meandered through switchback roads I noticed old neon signs that gave off a nostalgic glow against the setting sun. There, I was to meet a Hong Kong native named Mei who would take me on a “secret” food crawl through one of her favorite neighborhoods. Stretching my legs sounded like the next best thing so I set out to explore the urban landscape on my way to San Wan Ho. I drew in a gasp as one man climbed the bamboo scaffold with supreme ease, contorting his body like an acrobat to slip through gaps in the frame. Over the next few days I watched a small-scale construction project unfold at the busy street corner. Open rooftop tour buses passed by, elevated enough that I could nearly see the color of the tourists’ eyes staring back at me through my window. A parade of crimson taxis, motorbikes, and utility vans drove bumper to bumper with luxury import cars. I’d spent the afternoon settling in, watching the world go by outside my walk-up apartment. My first day in Hong Kong was a whiplash of taxis, neon, and lizard wine. Some names have been changed for privacy.
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