Hong Kong
will be always present in our memories as the place where we’ve eaten the best
shushi of our lives. We were in Hong Kong Island and it was late. 2pm is not
time anymore for lunch for an average ‘Hong Konger’, mind you. The place was gloomy,
in one of these narrow streets behind striking grey skyscrapers, smelly, rubbishy.
It was nevertheless referenced in Lonely Planet and we treat our literature as
serious stuff. The kitchen was about to close, we had to rush ordering. Service
was unremarkable, no frills decoration, decaying restrooms. But a second after
tasting that fresh, soft and salty tuna all the surroundings faded away and we imagined
ourselves swimming freely in the Pacific waters, in a time where Bluefin is not
synonym for fishing quotas.
Hong Kong
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