Through the Looking Glass

A knock once. Twice. It's dark, about 3am. I was asleep. I raise my head, looking towards the door. Who could possibly want me now?

I open the door, to see my hallmates, striplights harsh, on floor 13 of Lee Hysan Hall, Hong Kong University. My memory stirs. Yes, hadn't I said I wanted to go have a traditional a "morning tea"? I look back towards my window despairingly. Dawn has very definitely not broken, and this is some cruel trick.

Yet in a matter of moments, I'm tripping over myself down the corridor as I attempt to hop into trousers, hoodie and elevator all at once. It's only a short journey to Kennedy Town. But it's a steep road downhill. We descend from the derelict campus on the Dragon's Back, into a cacophony of light and sound as the City of Hong Kong, full-throated, explodes in life before us.

It's difficult to describe how intoxicating this experience is. Night-time is truly when Hong Kong lives. I cast my eyes across Victoria Harbour, and within my vision is the full spectrum of the human experience - everything is happening to someone, somewhere in this city, all within the horizon.

Arrived, and pots and bowls are thrust before me, steaming with hot water. Hands appear from either side, as my friends with military precision "wash" our cutlery. The bowls and chop sticks already arrived clean, but this is an old ritual, made more popular here since the SARS epidemic of 2001.

Bamboo steamers then appear on the table, containing unknown and mysterious foods. Flavours of sweet egg, salty beef and textures of glutinous rice, and sticky sauces. All, most importantly, washed down with bitter tea. Whichever you'd prefer?: delicate Jasmine, ferrous-flavoured Iron Buddha, do you dare the vicious Gunpowder, and what's the one with little blue petals?

And so here we sit, a group of locals taking me out for dinner, at 3am, in a greasy cafe on the harbour. Yes the food tastes good, and yes this is why we made the journey. But that misses the point. Morning Tea in Hong Kong sees the city at its most individual and its best. We sat down with students who had been out all night, and with metro workers having breakfast before an early shift. At this time Hong Kong is a metropolis buzzing at a million miles an hour, when any other city would be asleep. A decadent Morning Tea is the epitome of this lifestyle. A life lived too fast to sleep, too fully to take a breather, too vicariously to not get up and want the best. It's 3am, and my day has just begun.