Kowloon: Beneath the banyans
Amid the neon signs and rush hour traffic on Nathan Road, stand silent reminders of a time when Hong Kong’s streets echoed to the sound of horse-drawn carriages. Read more
Dec 9
Amid the neon signs and rush hour traffic on Nathan Road, stand silent reminders of a time when Hong Kong’s streets echoed to the sound of horse-drawn carriages. Read more
Nov 30
When winter comes to Hong Kong, chapping lips and penetrating homes with no insulation nor central heating, I dream of a faraway tropical island among a chain of more than 17,000 spread like jewels along the equator. It waits in the shadow of its famous sister, separated by nothing more than a deep sea strait. Read more
Nov 25
The engine slows to a crawl. Aboard the junk boat a gaggle of locals and foreign visitors wait in hushed anticipation, clutching the railing with cameras at the ready. An endangered Chinese White Dolphin has just been seen frolicking among the waves. Read more
Aug 27
Written with a quill, the florid cursive inscribed on the pages of a ship’s logbook was still legible: “Tuesday March 1st – 1796. Light winds…, weather fair and pleasant, a smooth sea.” These were the words of Captain Charles Christie on the East Indiaman Belvedere, then engaged in the lucrative China trade. Read more
Aug 17
For if every true love affair can feel like a journey to a foreign country, where you can’t quite speak the language, and you don’t know where you’re going, and you’re pulled ever deeper into the inviting darkness, every trip to a foreign country can be a love affair, where you’re left puzzling over who you are and whom you’ve fallen in love with.
– Pico Iyer, ‘Why We Travel’
Aug 12
Sipping at a young coconut in the shade of a pohon waru, a gnarled tree with spade-shaped leaves, I squeezed the cool white sand between my toes. The smell of grilled fish, freshly caught from the sea, wafted over from the beachside warung – a small trio of shacks in bamboo and alang-alang – while a row of brightly painted outrigger canoes lay lined up on the shore.
Aug 6
From the comfort of my seat I watched as our waitress carried a clear plastic bag of chillies into the kitchen, presumably to be chopped up and used in the sauce for our homemade ayam taliwang. As we came down from our three-day trek on Mount Rinjani, during which we were fed vast quantities of banana pancakes, spaghetti, and even a burger with fries, Bama was excited about the prospect of returning to the rich flavours of Indonesian fare. “I’ve been craving something spicy!”
Aug 4
“No hot chocolate?!” The middle-aged French tourist snapped. “But what about the cheeldren?!” The young man behind the breakfast counter mumbled and shook his head apologetically. I watched as the Frenchman’s face contorted and scowled, breaking the trail of angry questions with a final “Never?!” before storming off. Read more
Jul 31
Standing precariously on a ridge of loose volcanic scree, I squeezed the top of the trekking pole and pushed down with all my strength. A thin, broken trail of lights was now snaking its way to the summit roughly 100 metres above my head, a darkened mass that loomed tantalisingly close under the brightness of a full moon. In the distance I could just make out the finish line: two pinnacles forming a natural gateway to the peak. Read more