Parallels and lessons from Brooklyn, Hong Kong and China

Today, I share with you some experiences from living in Brooklyn, China and Hong Kong: three places that have shown and given me a greater appreciation of my own life and the meaning of home.

Brooklyn, N.Y. 

I’ve had the privilege of visiting several places around the world over the years, each with its own exciting thrill. But, there is always a part of me that somehow finds its back to Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Over the last 15 years in Brooklyn, the many communities and cultures have taught me the value of diversity. A great majority of local businesses are immigrant-owned, and aside from the authentic food, I’ve learned to pick up a few words on my way out. Learning how to say “thank you” in respective languages, for example, has shown me the difference it makes to go the extra mile (or step, really) when you care for those around you, including strengthening your means to connect. It is these small interactions that truly make Brooklyn a remarkable place to live in. 

There is also no better way to spend perfect mid-autumn in Brooklyn than to go on a walk admiring the lovely cobblestones, dogs running in parks and, of course, the timeless skyline that overlooks Brooklyn and Manhattan. Fall in New York, dare I say, is the best season of all. It is truly this synergy that makes Brooklyn an unbeatable place to live. 

Hong Kong

Hong Kong captured my admiration instantly with its seamless blend of Western and Eastern cultures. The moment I stepped out of the airport, I took a breath of immediate relief hearing taxi cab drivers hollering in their thick Cantonese accents. I couldn’t believe how much this place felt like home, even though I had never been prior.

The geographic landscape of Hong Kong features many narrow and steep alleyways that curve at every imaginable corner. Yet, the challenges in navigating my way around helped me embody a larger part of my inner confidence to explore and try new roads that I had yet to try.

Even as a New Yorker, Hong Kong truly felt like the place that never slept. As one of the most densely populated places in the world, it was no surprise that every street included rows of businesses and shops. On any given block, there were a number of diners and cafes, foods from every cuisine and street stalls for quick bites of dim sum. 

Eating alone was also surprisingly a normalized part of the culture. In the early mornings, you could catch locals stopping by a cafe before work for breakfast, midday for a quick bite and evenings for a hearty meal to end their day. Breakfast, for example, at a diner-style cafe usually consisted of a fixed set of some toast, egg and a noodle variation, paired with a classic HK-style milk tea/coffee. As a traveler, I found myself joining the locals for a yummy meal, opening up the opportunity to try new foods and find solace in my own nature.

Shanghai, China

Shanghai was the first place where, for the first time, I did not speak much of the native language fluently. Along the streets, I found myself using the Mandarin that I had picked up from friends at school to make my way around. While I ultimately managed, seeing the practical demands of language literacy as a Cantonese-speaking native gave me a greater appreciation and a renewed commitment to language learning. Rather than pretending to understand a handed menu when I was told to “just read it,” I wished that at that moment, I hadn’t had to rely so much on stock images or pieced-together words from translating apps. 

My challenges here, though, reminded me of my experiences back home working with various patient populations where English wasn’t a first language for many. Aside from medical literacy, the notion of basic spoken literacy was a reminder of the many privileges I had to be grateful for. Language in itself — as I had experienced firsthand — was an incredibly enabling factor that I had often overlooked. 

Whereas the skylines of New York are known for its tall skyscrapers, the skyline in Shanghai shined in its own stillness. At night, I walked along the Bund, admiring the beaming fluorescent lights all throughout Pudong, the financial district. The breeze and cooler weather made Shanghai a nice getaway to the places I had just visited toward the equator. 

Guangdong, China

Guangdong was one of those places near the equator. Even in November, the weather was still warm enough to not need outerwear. My visit to Guangdong this time was also the first time (in 15 years) that I was able to celebrate my birthday (19th) with the people that I loved most — my godparents and godsister.

My mornings back in China were characterized by the many varieties of dim sum I had the pleasure of tasting. Dim Sum is a proud delicacy of the Cantonese and, other than my new love for jian bing, nothing could beat the greeting of freshly steamed baos and handmade rice rolls. 

Every morning, on my walk to pick up fresh dim sum, I would pass by the roads leading to my old apartment and preschool, as well as the remaining physical reminders of my early upbringing. Seeing the historic infrastructure, and especially the village and the people that have shaped and molded me to become the person I am today, reminded me of just how far I’ve come. 

As easy as it had been for me to lose sight of my present life, these remnants reminded me of just how much of an impact the support and patience from early mentors had on me. Without the collective help from former teachers and older students who served as older siblings who guided me, I would have never been able to get to where I am today. Because of their life-long impact, I remind myself to “Rejoice always, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NIV).

Anne Li is a junior from Brooklyn, N.Y. majoring in Neuroscience. She is an Social Media Manager for The News-Letter.