That brashness. The buzz. The way Temple Street comes to life at night. The best spicy crabs in the world. Nights out under the stars, chewing on claws, drinking beer, ducking that weird flying saucer toy the streetside vendor tries to offload on unsuspecting tourists. What kind of souvenir is a piece of remote-controlled plastic anyway?
The oyster cake place that Ah Hung took us to one night – the one that’s better than all the rest. More oysters in a single bite. The pet shop that’s really a home for rescued animals. The alley off Reclamation Street where we found those kittens that night. The congee on Woosung Street. The Starbucks where we wrote the outline of that silly spoof script. Kambik Sauna. Mango desserts. The way the fortune-tellers hold your hand, look into your eyes and tell you you have to take care of your health.
Smelly summers. Blustery winters. Typhoon Signal No. 8. The view from our box in the sky. The knowledge that something interesting is always brewing.
And above all, the buzz. The unmistakable buzz. The relentless possibilities.
