Over spring break, I was given the opportunity by TBC to take a scholarship-supported trip to Macau, and from there, enjoyed just over three days in Hong Kong. Lamma Island, a small island in Hong Kong, is where most of my mom’s China stories take place. It’s where she lived for a few years in her mid-twenties, each workday punctuated with ferry rides to and from Hong Kong Island, where she wrote for the Far East Economic Review. It’s where one day she was given two cats by a neighbor, who found them in a litter of abandoned kittens and didn’t know what to do with them. She was allergic, but he didn’t take no for answer, and she brought them back with her to the U.S. years later, and they grew old enough that I was able to spend many years with them as a kid before they passed.
The Lookout Pavilion seen from the Yung Shue Wan ferry
The ferry terminal at Yung Shue Wan is about an hour in transit from Kowloon. The small bay is full of little fishing boats, mostly non-commercial, dinghies and traditional dragon boats alike. In the distance, towering from the tops of the hills in Po Lo Tsui, three smokestacks look out across the island — Hong Kong Electric’s Lamma Power Station, a solar and thermal energy farm. The area is mostly residential, with the main drag being made up mostly of seafood restaurants of a variety of culinary influences. Somehow, the streets are even narrower than in the city, perhaps because of the slower traffic, made up mostly of bikes and small trucks, and all combinations therein. When walking down the center of the street, one can wander into the businesses — almost all of which had their doors wide open — as if directed by some unseen current.
The island has been a hotspot for foreigners throughout history, originally being named Pok Liu Chau — “the foreigners docking place.” In the ‘60s, the ferry port was constructed, creating access to the island from Hong Kong, and another influx occurred in the ‘80s with a local boom in the plastics industry. In the ‘60s, the ferry port was constructed, creating access to the island from Hong Kong, and another influx occurred in the ‘80s with a local boom in the plastics industry.
A few minutes up Family Trail sits a pinkish apartment building, which has since been renovated since my mom lived there in the ‘90s. Besides minor superficial changes, like the addition of a second staircase winding around the base of the building, it remains mostly unchanged, like much of Lamma Island. Multi-unit buildings are nestled into the steep hillside, which is carved by small walkways and staircases, switching back and forth. Small gardens decorate many of the homes, often made up of clusters of clay pots on tile decks. The landscape is full of color, from the verdant hillside to the tropical flowers wrapped in green foliage kept in pots by the residents, their clothes drying out on lines above. There is no shortage of life and vibrance on Lamma Island.
Ruby sits on a railing in front of her mom’s former apartment building on Lamma Island
In one of the only boutique tourist shops, I struck up a conversation with some other customers, a middle-aged couple who told me they’d been living on the island for about twenty years. They asked us how we liked Hong Kong, I said it was big and exciting but there are too many people for me. I’m not sure why I chose to be so honest with them about their home, but I think they appreciated it. They were adamant I report back to my mom that there are no more chickens on Lamma Island, so now there’s an abundance of snakes and mosquitoes. In saying goodbye, I offhandedly told the couple I was glad to see the island was in good hands. The man quickly brushed this off, insisting the island is the one taking care of them.
The view on the ferry ride back to the Hong Kong central pier is incredible and singular. Following along Sulphur Channel, the route cuts between the tiny Green Island — which is inhabited primarily by a lighthouse and wildlife — and Hong Kong Island’s Mount Davis. On the shores of Hong Kong Island, skyscrapers begin to shoot up from jungle, until it starts to look like the jungle is what’s seeping into the city. Lamma Island is a welcome reprieve from the sometimes-claustrophobic metropolis that is Hong Kong.
It’s hard to describe what it felt like to go somewhere that I had heard so much about but hadn’t really been able to imagine. It was difficult to picture both because I had never been anywhere like it, and also because I never figured that I’d have the opportunity to see it. There’s a saying when people find connections in an unexpected place: “what a small world!” Conversely, the feeling this cliché seems to be getting at is that the world is wide and welcoming. On Lamma Island, I felt a familiarity where there was hardly any, like a wink from a stranger.
By Spring 2025 Student Ruby.
Over spring break, I was given the opportunity by TBC to take a scholarship-supported trip to Macau, and from there, enjoyed just over three days in Hong Kong. Lamma Island, a small island in Hong Kong, is where most of my mom’s China stories take place.
Recently, Thomas Michael, a professor at The Beijing Center (TBC), was interviewed our staff and shared with us his perspective on studying Daoist thought and living in China. Professor Michael is a researcher at the School of Philosophy at Beijing Normal University.
Five Loaves and Two Fish is a volunteer organization centered on providing support and international education opportunities to the local migrant children who comprise its student body.
Snuff bottles represent a centuries-old cultural exchange between Europeans and the Chinese, where the import of tobacco products met the craftsmanship and artistry of Manchurian Beijing in the height of the Qing Dynasty. Manchu culture relished in entertainment and creature comforts, and snuff, being a mixture of ground tobacco and dried herbs, became very popular.