« They are torturing the trees » as my host puts it.
The Dirt Road
At the back of the village, a little dirt road begins. It is a shortcut to the other side of the village, where all the shops are. The road is bumpy, but a few electric bicycles still rush past. “These are a real danger here. You don’t hear them coming,” my host tells me. He is leading me down the small path towards the south of the village. He is in his 40s, with a long grey beard and a black tote bag, much bigger than usual ones. He wears red socks and rubber slippers.
The House Wall Made of Bottles
Along the back alley, houses are built from what seems to be a mix of concrete, metal, and plants. Trees and vines have grown along the walls, and big flowers are blossoming on the roofs as spring timidly begins here. Rusted corrugated iron covers many of the houses. Even some of the street walls are made of rusted iron. One homeowner has built an entire wall outside his house by pouring concrete onto empty beer bottles. All the bottles are from “Blue Girl” beer, the most famous local Hong Kong brewery. They are arranged in pyramids, sealed in concrete. “He started drinking Moutai recently,” my host comments, pointing at the red ceramic bottles of Chinese baijiu placed atop some of the pyramids. The red bottles go well with the New Year decorations covering all the doors at this time of year.
The Broken Fridges
On the side of the road, some empty fridges have been discarded. “These are for the scrappers. Most of them around here are from India or Pakistan. They already came and dismantled parts of these fridges, but the main components haven’t been removed yet. A fight almost broke out over these old fridges. These guys are my friends.” Covered in dust, the fridges lie on the roadside, their doors missing. A little further on, an Indian man rides a bicycle and nods in greeting as we approach him.
The Narrow Path
Just past the corner, my host points to a narrow path leading up the side of the road. “Be careful, it’s steep.” We hop up a few steps and cross a ditch to access an elevated level above the road.
The Shipment Company
We are now on a large, flat, open area. The ground is covered with sparse grass and a few rocks. To the right, some large metal structures are stored. They may be parts of cranes or container infrastructure, bearing the logos of a well-known Hong Kong shipping company. Right next to them, several minivans are parked in front of four large tents. The minivans are typical Hong Kong models, with low bodies and long noses, mostly Japanese imports. The drivers wait inside their vehicles; one is nearly dozing off as the radio blares. Inside the tents, dozens of unfolded cardboard boxes are stacked. Two workers handle parcels of various sizes, while another discusses a package with a driver, showing him paperwork. The driver doesn’t look convinced. “These operations are quite recent. Space is cheaper in this part of town, so they’re moving here,” my host explains as we pass by.
The Camping
On the other side of the open area, next to the dirt path, there is a campsite. Three colorful Mongolian yurts are set up along the trees in the back. They seem abnormally small compared to typical yurts. Their purple and green fabric gives them an oddly artificial appearance. A couple of bikers are assembling their tent, preparing for the night. A camper van is parked nearby, with Hong Kong license plates. Trees surround the plot. Tied to the fence, a large billboard reads: “Enjoy the Nature.” In the background, I can hear the hum of a four-lane road. The lights of the delivery drivers cast shadows on the grass as the sun sets.
The Bridge Across the Empty River
Beyond the campsite, a two-lane road is separated by a canal. The canal is dry, with grass and plants growing wildly across the concrete blocks. The weather in Hong Kong is usually mild, and nature quickly reclaims any empty space. As we cross the bridge over the dry riverbed, my host remarks, “Chinese infrastructure.”
The Temple
We have now entered the village. A small temple stands among the houses. It is empty except for some fruit and incense in the central room, with large characters painted on red paper on the central wall. This is the family shrine of the village. The temple is surrounded by village houses, which are relatively low for Hong Kong—only three or four stories high, as is common in this part of the city. The outer walls are covered in small rectangular ceramic tiles in shades of grey, arranged in alternating vertical and horizontal patterns. Clothes and bed sheets hang from balconies. The sky remains clear as night slowly settles in. “I want one of these,” my host says. “They cost about a couple of million for three floors. You can rent out the ground level and the top floor and live in the middle.”
The Life-Threatening Crossroad
The village roads are very narrow. Two cars cannot pass at the same time. There is a sidewalk, but it is not elevated, so cars drive onto it to make space. Where the road turns, the crossing is blind, making it impossible to see oncoming cars. Vehicles come fast, especially taxis, which won’t slow down for pedestrians. “Every time I go out, I have to save mainlanders. They don’t understand the rules here,” my host says as he steps onto the narrow road. Everything one needs to know is painted in large white letters on the pavement: Look left. Stand here. Dangerous areas are outlined in yellow, with large warning signs in both English and traditional Chinese.
The Magnificent Tree
Our walk comes to an end as we reach our destination. My host heads into a supermarket while I admire the large banyan tree in the square. It is entirely surrounded by concrete; the square has been built around it. Banyan trees are unique in that they reproduce using aerial roots that grow from their branches. These long branches bend under their weight, reaching toward the ground. Once they touch the soil, they begin to root and form a new trunk, eventually becoming a second tree. Here, however, this beautiful banyan tree has no space to expand, as its branches meet only concrete. Still, it seems perfectly at home in this built environment. As my host emerges from the supermarket, dozens of birds are singing in the tree. I join him, and we head back as the sun disappears behind the mountains.