We find ourselves in the middle of the bustling markets near Kawloon.  Streets dedicated to (pet) fish, birds, food, flowers, Christmas stocking stuffers, electronics…  It’s not the best place to spend time if you have weak sales resistance.  Confronted with store owners competing for our attention, offering up the latest flashy, nosiy kids toy fad or a “genuine” Rolex watch everything imaginable is near your fingertips. The Rolex was less than the price of avocado on toast in Australia. I would hazard a guess the avo on toast has a longer warranty.  A couple of flippant purchases and you can kiss goodbye the luggage limits for the flight home. 

Even the birds were giving the sales pitch.  Each one was showing off, talking as we walked past.  One particular Yellow-crowned Euphonia pulled out all the tricks with a spoken word rendition of the first three verses and chorus of The Gambler. Australia’s strict quarantine laws meant that live birds were off limits, so a Customs friendly rubber chicken was purchased instead.  The high pitched shriek when squeezed makes me giggle everytime.  Longtime readers would be aware that I bought one last visit but it disappeared, last seen gathering dust in the corner of Mum’s pantry.  When the time comes to pass through border security back in Brisbane and the suits ask me whether I have anything to declare, I am going to choke my chicken, let out a little squeal, smile and keep walking. 

On the food front the markets ensure that there is always plenty to chew on between main meals. The rolled up sheets of rice paper with peanut butter sauce is always a favourite. Even better if they add a touch of plum sauce for that sugar hit. But we can’t have too many empty calories, there is some serious eating to happen in the near future.

A few blocks away are two of the best dim sum offerings in Hong Kong.  I’ve been a disciple from my first bite in 2015 and are back to worship at their tables again.  One Dim Sum had moved across the road to a larger premises to cater for the increased patronage.  Some may say this is because of the sensational food (the thought of which will stay with you for life), but I think it was my article from over a decade ago that was read by sixteen people.

Less than a kilometre up the road is the other dim sum store, Tim Ho Wan. Beloved by many it has expanded internationally, largely due to their baked pork buns being so addictive.  The kind of thing that causes you to make irrational decisions in order to get another mouthful. But the glutinous rice with chicken was the pick of the lot. 

It’s holidays, meaning there is always an excuse to indulge in dessert.  And being Asia there is no icecream and topping or a piece of pie and cream.  There are weird, whacky and delicious.  In a place where dairy products are prized like rare metals, most desserts forego milk and icecream for cheaper substitutes such as condensed milk, ice and fruit.  Hence, I present to you mango flavoured shaved milk.  Each bite dissolves on your tongue quickly leaving you swallowing air and giving you a case of the hiccups.  A unique sensation and one that I would try again if we ever cross paths.  My friend opted for the more traditional mango and sago pudding.  

We agreed that there was were two non-negotiables on our final day, a return to the 3am custard bun place and to brave the lineup for (allegedly) the world’s best claypot.  A second hit of the custard buns and fried milk was as satisfying as the first. My friend decided to climb some stairs as a way to burn off the most recent calories. I yearned for a relaxing coffee and stumbled upon a funky café, Intention Café. Just what I needed before we brave the claypot line and the mad scramble for the airport.  We reunited half way through my second coffee. He started up with conversation with a local who was fiddling with a deck on cards a couple of tables away.  This stranger was very chatty and it turns out that he is a certified bartender/cocktail alchemist, qualified hookah stuffer and semi-professional magician (the font on his business card would be microscopic).  He was keen to hear about the bar scene in Australia while showing off some of his card sleight of hand. If my friend can keep him talking I may be able to crack the magician’s code and see how he actually pulls a trick off? 

His first trick, Oil and Water, saw him mix up 3 black cards and 3 red cards from the deck. We were both given the cards for forensic analysis before he clicked his fingers and like the name suggests they reverted back to chunks of red and black.  He repeated the trick and let us put the cards out, giving me a chance to sabotage his trick.  Didn’t work because somehow he managed to repeat the result.  He did some others that I have since replayed in my head and have kept me up at night.  It was at this time he had me worrying about the whereabouts of my passport, watch and wallet.  I had visions of having to explain to border authorities that a magician in a cafe made my passport vanish before making it reappear as a rubber chicken.  I guess he’s writing an account of our chance meeting, him scratching his head to see how I made those yum cha items disappear? For those on the social media circuit, search for @legend_waitforit_dary and you will be left scratching your head.    

We were able to make it to near the front of the line fifteen minutes before opening of the claypot store without the need for intimidation and violence.  Next to us were two older gentlemen who struck up a conversation, keen to find out the backstory of these two tourists and the machinations that results in us leaning against the brick wall.  Half an hour later, we were sat at adjoining tables and they proceeded to share with us their camera roll exposing holiday snaps and yummy meals (remind you of anybody?).  Apparently their two families holiday together in some of China’s most exotic tourist haunts.  They offered some of their bony fish soup but our newest friendship wasn’t strong enough to share germs or risk choking.  Last thing I wanted before we headed to the airport was an uneasy tummy ahead of a bumpy plane flight home.

The claypot itself was nice, but like most meat dishes on this trip the meat is the lesser cuts.  The one thing that was outstanding was the crispy rice at the bottom of the pot. This is the element which sorts out the masterchefs from the ham-fisted home cooks (like myself).  My attempts result in rice at the bottom that is either partially crispy or burnt, whilst his had a golden brown suntan which when prodded with a fork managed to keep its structural integrity.  So perfectly crispy it could be prised from the bottom of the pot and used as a helmet in a pinch. Took some confidence that mine can at least hold its hands up against the finest in the world. 

A rather uneventful trip to the airport and flight back to Australia.  The only stress was the realisation was that Grandma’s funeral was tomorrow and I had no clean clothes.  At this stage my best solution will probably be a football jersey turned inside out?  She was a diehard Broncos fan so maybe that idea has legs? 

The shoes survived the flight home and then found the bottom of the bin, the tape worked surprising well. Thanks for reading to the end to make sure we got home safe.