A Different Side to Hong Kong

The Tai O fishing village is not what one imagines when they picture Hong Kong.

Most people are aware that Hong Kong is one of the world's most densely populated regions and the streets certainly contain the hustle and bustle expected of the city. However, people may be surprised to learn that Hong Kong features mountains almost 1,000m in height, is comprised of 263 islands, only 25% of which is developed landmass, and it contains what must be one of the world's most idyllic fishing villages.

Today I travelled to the largest of the islands, Lantau, best known for being home to the Tian Tan Buddha Statue, and this was my first stop. The statue was billed as the "World's Largest Outdoor Bronze Seated Buddha Statue", instantly raising suspicions of larger Buddhas elsewhere that are combinations of either indoor, stone, or standing. Regardless, at 34m tall it was huge and an impressive site as it came into view towards the conclusion of the 5.7km cable car ride up to it. At the base of the statue, the throngs of cheesily posing tourists made it difficult to feel any spiritualism. However, that changed as I took the Wisdom Path away from the statue. The path finished amongst a set of tall wooden planks, marked with Cantonese symbols to form the Heart Sutra, an important Buddhist text. After reading about the Heart Sutra and the Buddhist concept of 'emptiness', I scampered up a hill where I sat on a rock all alone and with the statue looking immense above the trees to the right. Here I could get into the spirit of things and until I inevitably got hungry, I felt truly at peace with the world.

My next stop was the Tai O fishing village. On the way there, a cow lay lazily in the middle of the road, not bothering to move as the wheels of our bus came within inches of its head. Before heading into the village, I embarked on a short hike around the coast. It was a brilliant walk - a variety of colourful butterflies danced around me and at one point a large bird I'm yet to identify panicked in a bush before flying across my path. The route led me to a secluded bay where I sat looking out in to the South China Sea. It was hard to believe that I was so close to such a major city.

Tai O is a charming place. Houses built on stilts lined narrow streets, from which a host of stalls vended dried fish. I bravely opted for some dried squid, which was spiced and briefly cooked over coal before being chopped and bagged. The extreme fishyness of the taste took me back at first, but such was my enjoyment of the snack that upon ingesting the final piece I found my index finger scurrying the bottom of the bag for scraps. Tai O is a place that engages all the senses - the markets were colourful and offered tasty food, the distinctive smell of fish filled the air, and the clatter of Mah Jongg tiles being thrust on to a table by foursomes of women sounded from inside the houses. Tai O also featured the kind of slow paced calm you expect from a fishing village. Bicycles (there are no cars in the village) were pedalled at a leisurely pace and a man nonchalantly steered a boat out in to the bay, seemingly oblivious to a part of the opposite hillside going up in flames. By the time I turned away from this view, the fire was still blazing and had spread continuously without signs of abating. I can only hope it was extinguished.

I decided to forfeit my return journey on the cable car, primarily so I could watch the sunset from Tai O, although the decision was probably also influenced by the fact that I had lost my ticket. Although the bus I took instead followed a painstaking longwinded route that I could have anticipated with a quick glance at the map, it was the right call as the classically orange sunset was a fitting end to a wonderful day on Lantau Island.