Amidst the astonishing order of Hong Kong lies the tiny ramshackle fishing village of Tai O on the island of Lantau. Despite the pink dolphin tour yielding a distinct lack of pink dolphins we were nevertheless free to explore the insect trail streets which weave and skitter through this portside town.
Dried skins of manta rays hang from shopfronts, dazed fish swim in tiny buckets and fish gizzards are presented in wicker baskets, whilst the smell of dried fish mingles with a sweeter aroma (mango?) At the back of a tiny shop selling faded plastic toys sits a family around a tiny table eating noodles, the bluish flicker from the TV in the corner playing on their faces.
I like this place. There’s something primal here…the ghosts of past generations of fishermen are etched into the alleyways and crevices, each little shrine a reminder of the nets that have been cast and the fish tallied. A schoolboy runs up and says in very deliberate English, “hello, I’m nine and I go to Tai O primary school…”