Welcome to Hong Kong

First appeared 28th March, 2025 on BlogSpot by Xavier Bourdain

Cantonese isn’t just a language—it’s an attitude. A clipped, melodic rhythm that hums beneath the city’s chaos, spoken in sharp commands at noodle stalls and half-hearted apologies as someone shoulders past you. Walk too slow, and you’ll feel it—a near-invisible shove, a quick dui le—because in Hong Kong, movement is survival.

This city is a crossroads, but not in the romanticized, nostalgic way people like to describe it. It’s not China. It’s not the West. It’s both and neither, shifting constantly between two identities, existing in its own category. The accents here are proof: German, English, Filipino, Putonghua, all mixing into the air like the scent of roast goose fat dripping onto charcoal.

Food here is fast, rich, and unforgiving. Beef tendon noodles, the broth thick with gelatin, leaving a sheen on your lips. Roast goose, its skin blistered and crisp, the meat beneath slick with rendered fat. Every bite is indulgent, every chew meets resistance—a reminder of the hard bones left to be gnawed and sucked clean. Eat too fast, and you’ll feel it later, a gentle indigestion as you’re thrown back onto the streets, dodging delivery trolleys and weaving between bamboo scaffolding that looks like it shouldn’t hold but somehow does.

The streets pulse with motion. Red and grey taxis—Hong Kong’s roaring workhorses—fill the roads, weaving through traffic with the precision of seasoned predators. They don’t wait. They don’t hesitate. They know the city better than you ever will.

The sun beats down, hot enough to burn, but then the wind cuts through, sharp and cold, strong enough to perk nipples. Look around, and you’ll see four people, each dressed for a different season—one in a puffer jacket, another in shorts and sandals, yet somehow, all of them are right.

And then, in the middle of the blur, a moment of recognition—a head nod exchanged with another Black person. A silent acknowledgment, a knowing glance. There are more of us here than you’d expect, scattered through the city like hidden landmarks.

Even the city itself warns you. Look left. Look right. Painted on the streets, as if that’ll save you from the flood of bodies moving forward, no hesitation, no shuffle. You either keep up or get swept aside.

Welcome to Hong Kong.

This article was reproduced with permission from Xavier Bourdain, my cousin, who studies Food Science at Taylor’s University in Malaysia. He has had some wonderful experiences in exploring food culture and language in various Asian countries.

In his program, he studies the science behind creating innovative, safe, and enjoyable food products, including modules on food texture, nutritional composition, and entrepreneurship for food-related ventures.

His school emphasizes cultural relevance through product development for global markets, such as halal food technology and sustainable practices. The world remains his oyster!

I love his writing, and I am encouraging him to write more of his experiences. Hopefully, we will see more of his handiwork here in the future.