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Abstract

“tiny” is also a relative term. Many bedrooms are smaller than the size of a closet in suburban McMansions in the United States. People also work long hours there. If they go home, there’s no room to chill. Going out is the best option for friends and family to hang out. I suddenly understood why Hong Kong was the real city that “never sleeps”.After 10 minutes of battling through walls of people, which felt like hours, I came to a street where I could breathe with no one in front of my face. Whew! Without Google Maps, I let the street and curiosity guide me.<figure id="af1d"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*G9nOll_FSpm4Nm4qnk3Vqg.jpeg"><figcaption>A quieter street in Hong Kong. Photo by author</figcaption></figure>Then a pungent smell hit my nostrils. It’s a fresh fish market street!A row of fish stores stood side by side, and each of them had stalls out on the sidewalk extending into the street, with all sorts of seafood on display. The fishmongers were all enthusiastically shouting at passersby, to entice them to get something for their dinner. The seafood was organized according to type. Some fish were still wiggling, and crabs were tied up but I could see their claws moving.The ground was wet. And it wasn’t just from water. For a moment I felt like I was teleported back home to New York’s Chinatown fish market, except this was Hong Kong, and louder.I knew what to do at a fish market.<figure id="5958"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*kC9DcNKXl17hEHwG5Hh-sw.jpeg"><figcaption>Fish at a stall. Photo by author</figcaption></figure>I stopped by a stall with fish steaks, which was rare. Hong Kong people prefer whole fish as they think it’s fresher. But I didn’t want to deal with descaling and cleaning the fish in our tiny kitchen. As I was deciding which piece to get, a woman fishmonger with black rubber gloves on, lifted up a whole big fish, and started smacking it against other fish already lying dead.I froze. “What is she doing…”As the fish blood was splashing, I realized what she was doing. The fish in her hands was bloody, but the fish laying there had no blood. She wanted to spread the blood so all the fish would look fresh! Guess this was her way of airbrushing her “models”.

Options

When she finally stopped, I pointed to one of the fish steaks. She grabbed it and dropped it into a plastic bag and shoved it toward me. Now the plastic bag handles looked slippery with fish juice on them. I took it with one hand while reaching into my wallet to take money out. It took a bit to take a bill out with one hand because I didn’t want my fishy hand to touch my wallet. She was staring with this “hurry up” look so I pulled the first bill that would be sufficient to cover the cost, and handed it to her.Without taking off her slimy, fishy black rubber gloves, she took the bill, and picked out coins in a basket to hand to me.I could feel my blood rushing to my face. What do I do with slimy fishy coins?! I shoved the plastic bag with my fish forward. She dropped the coins inside. I didn’t care what she was thinking of me. I just didn’t want to contaminate my other hand or wallet with fish juice. I would go home, and wash the coins with soapy water.I walked away with triumph. I got my very fresh fish and I was going to cook for the first time in over a week.At a crosswalk when I looked down, I saw blood splatter all over my top, pants, and shoes. When she was smacking that bloody dead fish, the blood splattered on me too and I didn’t even know it.I wished I could just disappear!<figure id="14e1"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*oCr6t3CzBjhsgScYYDcnYA.jpeg"><figcaption>People are everywhere. Photo by author</figcaption></figure>I no longer cared about the fishy plastic bag handles, and used both hands to hold it in front of my body, trying to hide my blood-stained clothes. I didn’t know which would draw people’s attention more, having bloody clothes or walking funny.To my surprise, no one looked at me.Pushing through currents of people to get back home, I didn’t see a single person paying me any attention. I was glad to finally reach home though, to get out of my dirty clothes and wash the coins.Even in a glitzy city where image is everything, no one was conscious of my clothes except myself.Thank you for reading my story! If you ever find yourself going to a fish market in Hong Kong, stand far away from the fish stall and prepare to have exact change.</article></body>

Travel Memoirs

A Fish Market Encounter in Hong Kong

I thought I knew what I was doing

**Hong Kong Victoria Harbor.** Photo by author

I had to pinch myself, in case I was in a dream. Not a tourist this time, I was going to make Hong Kong my home for the next two years thanks to my husband’s new job.

It’s impossible to shut off my senses in Fragrant Harbor, the literal translation for “Hong Kong”. Modern glass skyscrapers and old concrete high rises covered in soot, shops of all kinds, and colorful signs small and big, all fought for a piece of my attention.

New York City, where I just moved from, felt like a more subdued sister, to this flamboyant sibling on adrenalin.

Tired of eating out after a week, I decided to roam around to find food to cook.

Believe it or not, even in Hong Kong, a high-density city with 70% of its land being virgin greenery, it is possible to escape the urban sprawl. That’s what I love about Hong Kong — the ability to feel the adrenaline of an intense city and find a quiet hiking trail within 45 minutes.

**Fishing village an hour from central Hong Kong.** Photo by author

“Quiet” is indeed a relative term. With 6.8 million people crammed into 30% of the land, even brushing shoulders with 20 people on a hiking trail could feel like a blissful respite.

**We lived in one of those concrete blocks.** Photo by author

But it’s impossible to roam in the area where our temporary apartment was located. It’s more like squeezing through bodies to get anywhere. I felt suffocated as I tried to get through the surging tides of people in Causeway Bay.

All the restaurants and little shops would stay open till midnight. Hong Kong is notorious for tiny apartments. Except for the super-rich, most people, including the upper middle class, live in tiny apartments. Well, “tiny” is also a relative term. Many bedrooms are smaller than the size of a closet in suburban McMansions in the United States. People also work long hours there. If they go home, there’s no room to chill. Going out is the best option for friends and family to hang out. I suddenly understood why Hong Kong was the real city that “never sleeps”.

After 10 minutes of battling through walls of people, which felt like hours, I came to a street where I could breathe with no one in front of my face. Whew! Without Google Maps, I let the street and curiosity guide me.

**A quieter street in Hong Kong.** Photo by author

Then a pungent smell hit my nostrils. It’s a fresh fish market street!

A row of fish stores stood side by side, and each of them had stalls out on the sidewalk extending into the street, with all sorts of seafood on display. The fishmongers were all enthusiastically shouting at passersby, to entice them to get something for their dinner. The seafood was organized according to type. Some fish were still wiggling, and crabs were tied up but I could see their claws moving.

The ground was wet. And it wasn’t just from water. For a moment I felt like I was teleported back home to New York’s Chinatown fish market, except this was Hong Kong, and louder.

I knew what to do at a fish market.

I stopped by a stall with fish steaks, which was rare. Hong Kong people prefer whole fish as they think it’s fresher. But I didn’t want to deal with descaling and cleaning the fish in our tiny kitchen. As I was deciding which piece to get, a woman fishmonger with black rubber gloves on, lifted up a whole big fish, and started smacking it against other fish already lying dead.

I froze. “What is she doing…”

As the fish blood was splashing, I realized what she was doing. The fish in her hands was bloody, but the fish laying there had no blood. She wanted to spread the blood so all the fish would look fresh! Guess this was her way of airbrushing her “models”.

When she finally stopped, I pointed to one of the fish steaks. She grabbed it and dropped it into a plastic bag and shoved it toward me. Now the plastic bag handles looked slippery with fish juice on them. I took it with one hand while reaching into my wallet to take money out. It took a bit to take a bill out with one hand because I didn’t want my fishy hand to touch my wallet. She was staring with this “hurry up” look so I pulled the first bill that would be sufficient to cover the cost, and handed it to her.

Without taking off her slimy, fishy black rubber gloves, she took the bill, and picked out coins in a basket to hand to me.

I could feel my blood rushing to my face. What do I do with slimy fishy coins?! I shoved the plastic bag with my fish forward. She dropped the coins inside. I didn’t care what she was thinking of me. I just didn’t want to contaminate my other hand or wallet with fish juice. I would go home, and wash the coins with soapy water.

I walked away with triumph. I got my very fresh fish and I was going to cook for the first time in over a week.

At a crosswalk when I looked down, I saw blood splatter all over my top, pants, and shoes. When she was smacking that bloody dead fish, the blood splattered on me too and I didn’t even know it.

I wished I could just disappear!

**People are everywhere.** Photo by author

I no longer cared about the fishy plastic bag handles, and used both hands to hold it in front of my body, trying to hide my blood-stained clothes. I didn’t know which would draw people’s attention more, having bloody clothes or walking funny.

To my surprise, no one looked at me.

Pushing through currents of people to get back home, I didn’t see a single person paying me any attention. I was glad to finally reach home though, to get out of my dirty clothes and wash the coins.

Even in a glitzy city where image is everything, no one was conscious of my clothes except myself.

Thank you for reading my story! If you ever find yourself going to a fish market in Hong Kong, stand far away from the fish stall and prepare to have exact change.