There’s something magical about it. Walking along Hong Kong streets late at night.
It feels like the place is more… alive. People are out and about. Restaurants offering a variety of mouthwatering dishes keep inviting you in. Every stall on the Night Market fighting for your attention. Watching the citylights dance across Victoria Harbour. Light rain. Laughter, footsteps, the sound of PedXing when it’s time to cross the streets.
We went to Disneyland, rode a cable car over mountains to get to Lantau Island, visited different and various stations of the metro railway, but what I seem to remember most from our Hong Kong trip – what really makes me nostalgic – are walks back to our rented Airbnb after the sun had gone, after the itinerary for the day is done, when there is nothing left to accomplish on the checklist and we have tired eyes and blisters on our feet, and hungry stomachs.
Maybe it’s Disneyland pixie dust, enclosing the whole country, making the night air feel like magic. Maybe… maybe.
What I know is that, when I look back on this, it will always be an image of me in the dark, a language in the background that I don’t understand, basking under Hong Kong’s bright neon lights, feeling extremely, utterly glad to be alive.