Forgetting Hong Kong
To fall in love with Asia is one thing. To fall in love in Asia is another. Both have happened to me. - AB
In therapy, we often discuss the past and how certain memories shape us. Five weeks ago, while enjoying an omakase meal in Japan, I felt like I was unfolding an old, cherished outfit from a suitcase of memories. Each bite reminded me of a past I had nearly forgotten. Our group was so large that we took over the entire place, and they had to split us into two groups, with mine sitting on the top floor. After the meal, I tried to remember when I first had omakase. Initially, I couldn't recall it until I got back to Berlin. I was thinking about other times, particularly at Araki and Taku in London, but then I finally remembered: it was in Hong Kong.
I was 21 years old, and it was my first time in Hong Kong. My ex-partner was trying to impress me with his restaurant recommendations. I remember having a drink at his restaurant bar, then suddenly rushing to say goodbye to people. We jumped in one of those little red taxis, and the next thing you know, we’re quietly walking into this very tiny restaurant. The chefs greeted us warmly. There were about nine seats at the bar in front of the chef and a couple of seats behind us.
It was my first experience with this kind of sushi and the etiquette that surrounds it. As the chef handed me a piece of sushi, he smiled and said, "One bite, no sauce." It was a simple instruction, but it felt like a ritual. This was different for me—I had never eaten like this before. It wasn’t about pouring soy sauce into a tiny bowl and mixing it with fake wasabi. Every part of the meal was carefully curated by the chef, who did everything in a precise way.
Omakase chefs— the original curators? Much of the eating was done without chopsticks; instead, the chef would place the sushi directly into my right hand.
By the end of the meal, I was full and more than a little drunk. It was one of the best dining experiences I’ve ever had—intimate and theatrical. The exclusivity made it feel special, and it was my first time trying uni. I don’t know, it was all just very luxurious and sexy. That year, we went to that restaurant five times.
Sometimes, you go so long without thinking about certain things, but whether I like it or not, that part of my life shaped me. It changed everything. Going out for food became more than just an occasional treat—it turned into a hobby. Now, it’s so normalised that I can enjoy great meals several times a week, and it no longer feels like a special occasion. I mean it does—but not always.
Growing up, we didn’t have much, but we always ate delicious food at home. For my parents, eating out was seen as a waste of money. So when I finally started dining out—especially at really nice places—it became something I truly enjoyed. It brought me so much joy, in fact, that I ended up building a career around it.
But why forgetting Hong Kong? A lot has happened since I first went there. Life's been pretty busy, and going back in early November 2023 brought back a ton of memories—especially since I hadn’t been there in eight years.
You might be wondering why this is such a big deal. Well, I spent most of my early 20s in Hong Kong, visiting 11 times over two years—all for a boy. It really felt like a second home since I spent so much time there.
We met at the opening of his restaurant in Hanoi, and for a while, it felt like just friends until we went on a date and everything shifted. We liked each other a lot, and I said I’d think about seeing him again after the Christmas break.
When we got back from our holidays, I received a huge box filled with cranberry juice. Every bottle had a note that said, "Whenever you feel homesick, drink this." I thought, Wow, I have to see this guy again. That marked the start of us dating and seeing where it would lead, and after three months, it became official. He was my partner.
I lived in Vietnam, and he lived in Hong Kong, so we bounced back and forth a lot. I still remember what I wore when I first went to visit him in Hong Kong. This black sheer top and black shorts.
He picked me up from the airport in a blacked-out Mercedes, I was so nervous, and I was confused, I was like this is literally my favourite music? And the driver started playing music from a playlist he had made for me. As if that wasn’t enough, the driver passed me a bottle of bubbles and said, "Welcome to Hong Kong." I was a bit shocked because no one had ever done anything like that for me before, and I was only 21.
As we drove to the city, I saw the views and the skyscrapers; I’d never seen anything like it before. It was stunning. The tall glass buildings, the sun coming down. The sky was all pink and purple. As the sun was setting, we finally reached his place, high up on a hill in the mid-levels. Was I dating one of Hong Kong's bachelors?
It was such an exciting time; I loved going there. We always had the best time together. We were both really into each other, and I think it was on my second or third trip that we finally said "I love you." I genuinely thought that was it, and he was my forever.
I remember receiving a box full of Kisses chocolates, with a note that said, “Today marks the first time we kissed.” It was so sweet. We wrote letters to each other, texted constantly, and cherished every moment together. He would pick me up on his bike, and we’d zip around the city chasing sunsets.
It was genuinely one of those love stories you only read about or see in films. Our life together really felt like a montage of beautiful moments around Asia. We travelled all over the world together. The last time we saw each other was in Thailand on one of the islands. It was fun, but all good things come to an end, and that was the last time we ever saw each other.
Life happens. I went back after eight years, and I was scared I’d just bump into him in a city with over seven million people. It felt the same yet different; I remembered all the streets and restaurants, and it was kind of painful—but in a beautiful way, a kind of saudade. I recalled some things, but not everything.
Sitting at Repulse Bay, I reminisced about how I used to spend my days on that beach waiting for him to finish work while I read and wrote about life. My life is so different now that sometimes it almost feels like none of that ever happened.
All that from a simple quest to recall where I first savored the best sushi of my life. Love deeply, and who knows? You might just stumble upon your favorite restaurant—or/and some heartbreak.
The track I’ll leave you with today is Yumeji’s Theme by Shigeru Umebayashi.
Love,
Rez
other banger! Loved this. Also can relate to how a city becomes a map of heartbreak when you’ve experienced so much of it with one person. Xx