On a recent hot June day as I took a break to cool off, have a glass of tea and watch an hour of my favorite foodie, Anthony Bourdain, we strolled the crowded alleys of the concrete jungle of Hong Kong. While he worked his way around the island, I started to reminisce about my long ago journey to that faraway place.
I pulled out my Fotomax photo albums and shortly discovered that this June marks the twenty fifth anniversary of my trip. My brother and sister in law were living there on work assignment as journalists, and my nephew had just been born. I thought it was my best first chance to travel abroad to a destination with built-in travel guides plus a chance to see baby Thomas in his first year.
I marveled at the exotic sights and sounds, aromas and largeness of the city. Viewing it from atop Victoria Peak or from a water taxi in Aberdeen boat village. Shopping in street markets, jade markets and markets filled with endless varieties of vegetable, fruit and live seafood. I sampled Peking duck, strange fruits and pungent, smelly fruits. I gazed at the rows and rows of roasted ducks hanging in shop windows, rode on the Star Ferry and in the zippy red and black taxis that zoomed at lightning speed on the freeways and through the alleys.
One of my most favorite dining experiences was the Dim Sum Restaurant. A cavernous room full of people talking loudly and trolleys careening through narrow aisles piled high with bamboo baskets filled with many savoury dumpling delights, including anything from meat, seafood or mixtures of mushrooms, bamboo shoots, bean sprouts and preserved egg yolks, or flaky dough filled with fruit fillings to make you smile.
I took a short trip to the mainland, learned to use my chopsticks, and happily snapped photos to help me remember it all. Twenty five years later, I'm glad I did.
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