Eileen Chang’s short story collection, Love in a Fallen City, is a series of tales set in Hong Kong and Shanghai during the 1930s and 1940s. Born in 1920 to a wealthy, upper class family in Shanghai, Chang studied literature at the University of Hong Kong, but the Japanese occupation of the city in 1941 forced her to return back to Shanghai, where she became a prolific and popular literary icon.
Throughout the fictional stories, I find some subtle nods to Chang’s mixed emotions about both cities. There’s affection in her prose, but it’s tempered with a slight frustration and ambivalence. One of the images that has stuck most clearly in my head throughout the last four days of being here in Hong Kong is the way Chang describes the weather. Take this passage, from the story ‘Sealed Off’, set in Shanghai:
The huge, shambling city sat dozing in the sun, its head resting heavily on people’s shoulders, its drool slipping slowly down their shirts, an inconceivably enormous weight pressing down on everyone.
That imagery, of dwellers drenched in the saliva of their surroundings, has certainly felt apt this week. I didn’t remember it being quite so hot here—the temperature is 31 degrees, and humidity 92%. Sudden downpours and thunder flashes have punctuated the early mornings and late afternoons. Heat rises rapidly from evaporating puddles on the bricked pavements, creating the illusion that I’m treading on top of a giant fan heater as hot air blows upwards from my ankles.
This morning, I went to Sham Shui Po, a neighbourhood in Kowloon. On this trip, I’ve tried to do something new or different every day; visit somewhere or do something I’ve not done before in the two years I lived here from 2017 to 2019. Spending time in this area is one of them. Sham Shui Po has been long famed for its markets, wholesalers and industrial / trading enterprises, but has in recent years become a little more artsy, trendy, and yes, somewhat gentrified.
The streets are laid out in a grid-like pattern, with shops and market stalls devoted to electronics on one street, jade on another, fabrics and textiles on another, and so on. The colourful metal market booths line both sides of the road, leaving me with a choice of three different paths: either the left or right pavement, or down the middle. Air conditioners drip from the storeys of houses above, washing hangs out of windows. It’s noisy, bustling, sweaty.
On Tai Nan Street, known for leather goods, things are a little quieter. I spot a ceramics shop, with beautiful work for sale on display outside. There’s a cup with delicate ginkgo leaves, peppered with gold flecks.
The shop’s owner works at a portable wheel inside, surrounded by several other wheels where classes take place. I show her the cup, and my tattoo. She shows me one of the students’ works-in-progress—a giant urn with hand-engraved ginkgo leaves all over it. Even in a city that can drown you with overwhelm, there are some moments of perfect serendipity such as this.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fba54e83e-d426-4e55-893c-e435896025dd_3024x4032.heic)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb5bd698e-da14-480f-90be-e0d9513b46f5_4284x5712.heic)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F867b065d-e953-486d-9493-d54695a24556_4284x5712.heic)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9c21ff90-79fe-4700-bc2a-18307672a668_4284x5712.heic)
I’m by no means an expert on Sham Shui Po, but here’s a couple of my tips in case it is helpful:
This handy guide was great and has suggestions for walking tour routes in the area.
The ceramics shop was called Mudheytong.
I had a lovely lemon coffee and an indulgent tiramisu at Cafe Sausalito.
If I had a bigger budget, I would have treated myself to a new wallet at The Lederer.
There are so many eateries—I had the wonton mee house noodles at Lau Sum Kee on Kweilin Street.
Three Leaves
I’m highlighting three different cultural institutions in the three different places I’ve visited over the last fortnight here:
Cahyati Press is a book salon and a printing and publishing experiment based in Seminyak, Bali. I loved visiting their location and reading their defiant manifesto, which is written on the door so you know exactly what you’re letting yourself in for. I’m excited to read my new purchase from there, QUEERS SHOOT BACK: Essays on Queer Radical Cinema, by Rizky Rahad.
Gerakbudaya is an independent bookshop in Georgetown, Penang, stocking both nonfiction and fiction titles with a specialist focus on South East Asian authors. Restricted by my luggage capacity, I had to make some tough decisions on what to buy from here—but I’m so glad to have bought Rambutan Kisses, a beautiful collection of poetry by Malachi Edwin Vethamani.
Asia Art Archive is an archive, library and accessible space for researching and celebrating art in and from Asia, with separate branches in Hong Kong, New York and India. In Hong Kong, the space currently has an exhibition on titled Another Day in Hong Kong, gathering different artists’ memories and interpretations of one specific day from the past, and situating it in the present. My tip is to visit the space in the late afternoon, as you are treated to a lovely view of the golden glow of sunset hitting the pink and blue buildings of the Sheung Wan neighbourhood.
And updates from me
I have three new, and very different, stories out. First up, for CNN Style, I spoke with photographer Diana Matar about her new photobook and project My America, which documents more than 300 sites of police killings in the US over a two year period. I found this conversation with Diana very moving for a number of reasons and will likely write about this more in a future edition. Next, for Hyphen, I reported on how medicine shortages in the UK are affecting Muslim communities, causing really severe impacts on people’s health and wellbeing. I also did not know that last year in the UK, more than 400 pharmacies closed—a record high. And lastly for Kinfolk’s new issue on the theme of influence, I explored how life and art appear to be converging more than ever—or are they? All three of these pieces were rather challenging in their own ways, and I’m grateful for the time and opportunities to delve into them.
If you’re subscribed to
(and if you’re not, please do), you will have read ’s beautiful essay that we published on the platform last week. I am constantly in awe of June’s wisdom and talent for articulating difficult and often intangible feelings—it's truly a privilege to work together on this project. And we are really excited to be publishing a new piece on fragments this week by a wonderful guest author. Please do subscribe and support us as we would love to continue sharing more perspectives on sibling grief and loss.
It was important to me to write a few of these thoughts and feelings down while I’m still in Hong Kong this week, and I hope that this letter has made some sense—with the caveat that it’s currently 00.20am here, and I am leaving for the airport in about five hours.
The next edition of Ginkgo Leaves will be coming to you in two Tuesdays’ time, and will likely take a different format than usual, as I’m planning to feature a special guest in it.
Until then, take care and thank you for reading,
Suyin x