It had been six years since I left Hong Kong for. It’s the city that once held all the chapters of my young adulthood, and where I spent 18 years of my life. That time wasn’t just a number; it was a lifetime of beginnings, heartbreaks, friendships, farewells, and everything in between.
So, as our flight descended into Chek Lap Kok just before the Easter holidays, I knew this trip would be more than a quick shopping spree or a mere family visit. It would be a quiet reckoning in a vibrant but hectic city to reconnect, and above all, to give thanks.
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A city of beginnings
Hong Kong is where I started my international career, wide-eyed and determined, with nothing but ambition and a modest suitcase. It was where I met the woman who would later become my wife, and built lasting friendships within the Couples for Christ community. It also served as a launching pad where I took flights across continents for work and leisure, often returning with a little more wisdom and a few more scars. It was also where I had my share of heartbreaks: jobs lost, plans that crumbled, and nights that stretched too long with uncertainty.
But as with all authentic journeys in life, the beauty was in the roller coaster ride of joy and sorrow, hope and defeat.
The soul of the city still breathes
Upon arrival and quick freshen up at Hotel Jen, I explored the familiar neighborhood in Shek Tong Tsui. Once upon a time, I shared a flat a block away with Leo and Onin, to start our Hong Kong jobs at PCCW. In a city where businesses often come and go, it’s remarkable that the McDonald’s on Hill Road has stood its ground for over two decades. Interestingly, the building now home to Hotel Jen was once known as Century Hotel, before evolving into a joint venture under the Novotel brand.
We would eventually leave the neighbourhood, as our jobs were among those affected by the mass layoffs the company carried out later that year.
Our first stop was Causeway Bay, that pulsating heart of retail and neon light, teeming with people and sale signs. We roamed the streets looking for things no longer easy to find in Australia — more affordable clothing, quality school supplies, and those odd but useful items that fill the shelves of tiny mom-and-pop stores.
Even Tseung Kwan O had its share of sale promotions, and Hong Kong’s businesses never run out of excuses to throw extra discounts; this time it’s Easter Egg promotions. In a world now dominated by convenience, Hong Kong’s walkability and density still stood out It’s a place where one could accomplish so much in a day, if you’re willing to walk, squeeze, wait, and wander, and daily step count easily came close to 20,000 and sore feet to show.
But behind all that utility was something more emotional. These streets, these corners — they were once part of my daily life. I remember where I used to catch the 2A bus to Wan Chai or 720 to Taikoo Shing. The underpass I crossed every day to get to work. The shop where I bought my first winter coat. All of them reawakened memories just in time before they are totally forgotten into oblivion.
A family roundtable, finally full
Perhaps one of the most heartwarming moments of this trip was the family reunion. Babes’ sisters flew in from the Philippines, and together with their parents, who now reside in Hong Kong, we gathered like puzzle pieces finally finding their fit. One morning, we shared yum cha around a circular table — a spread of steaming baskets, teasing laughter, and the kind of warm chaos only family brings.
Then there was the grand Chinese dinner hosted by the employer of our dear friend Irene — an unexpected treat that felt both festive and sentimental.
We sing together
Good Friday came, and I found myself back in Hang Hau, in the church I once served: St. Vincent’s Parish. Without planning it, I was assigned to hold the 14th and final station of the cross. As I stood there, face to face with a familiar crowd, a few mouths dropped open in surprise. Some of the kids I once knew were now teenagers, even young adults.
A strange and quiet pride filled me. Time had passed. But the church still stood, and so did the community. They aged, yes — but gracefully. Many still had that same glow, the same fire in their eyes.
Before I left in 2019, I was part of this choir group, a lector and also an extra ordinary minister. The music ministry was sort of a revolving door of cast, from the time of Melissa who moved to Canada and Trisha to moved to Melbourne, but as one leaves, someone steps up and takes over. In fact, Lance is now doing the cajon and guitar, after Jason, Attila, and Emman vacated their spots.
I also appreciate Charm’s unassuming and leadership and maintained the MFC community’s role in the parish.
The echoes of ministry
Babes and I had spent more than seven years serving in the singles’ ministry, and reconnecting with old members was like opening a time capsule. There was joy in hearing updates — who got married, who returned to the Philippines, who remained faithful, and who disappeared into the wide sea of life.
There’s a quiet ache that comes with these reunions, too — the acceptance that not all stories continue in the same direction. Some stop, some transform, and some simply vanish. But all had meaning, and all helped shape who we are today.
We also attended a farewell for our friend Roma, who was closing a 28-year chapter in Hong Kong. The program was cheerful, but there was a collective heaviness in the air — a quiet mourning for the city she, and we, called home for so long.
Farewells like these are are sadly a common experience in Hong Kong. They are reminders that places and seasons change, and nothing is as permanent as we once thought.
A night of songs and laughter
One evening, we celebrated another Rommel’s birthday at his place in Hang Hau. Dinner eased into drinks, drinks turned into stories, and naturally, stories led to karaoke. We sang like we were 25 again—chasing old dreams with just enough wine in our system, as bottle after bottle of cabernet, shiraz, and rosé vanished from our host’s impressive “wine ceiling.”
Before anyone could seize the mic for a solo session, the host made sure everyone had their moment. Dean did the front act with his Coldplay performance. When it was my turn, I dove into PM Dawn’s Set Adrift, Sugarfree’s Burnout, and Third Eye Blind’s Semi-Charmed Life—filling the room with a rush of nostalgia and the kind of energy only old friends and familiar songs can bring.
Roma’s send off extended deep into the night, as we playfully sang Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now, with a twist of sarcasm, hiding our sorrow that a long-time friend will depart soon.
“Ooh-ooh, Roma, please go now.”
We ended past midnight, our voices hoarse but our hearts full. It was a simple night, but deeply healing and relived the past in .
Reunion with Karen
I also had a chance to meet Karen, who had arrived in Hong Kong around the same time I did, years ago. With her husband Jay and their son Jacob, we talked about the early days — the challenges, the fun, the culture shocks. We also compared notes on Australia: the wine, the cheese, the open spaces. In many ways, our paths had diverged but also remained aligned — a shared history, lived in parallel.
I came to Hong Kong literally with Karen and 13 other hopeful adventurers from Manila, and settled into Hong Kong since. As my buddy back in the day, Karen’s been a constant companion to go ocassional shopping, play squash, screening films and attending community gatherings as SFC members.
And after we held the role as couple coordinators for singles in Hong Kong’s MFC community, Karen and Jay graciously accepted the invite, and continues to look after the young ministry very well for several years now.
All holidays have to end
What truly amazed me on both the onward and return trips was how far airport technology has come—something I couldn’t help but compare to the experience in the Philippines. In Melbourne, I was pleasantly surprised that there was no need to take out my laptop during security screening, streamlining the process and making it far less stressful.
But it was Hong Kong that really impressed me: at the boarding gate, all I had to do was stand in front of a facial scanner—no need to fumble with documents or boarding passes.
The efficiency and seamlessness of it all made me wish the same kind of innovation could find its way to airports in the Philippines, where instead of enjoying a smooth travel experience, passengers still have to worry about outdated systems—and in the not-so-distant past, even scandals like tanim bala.
Hong Kong will always be a part of me. Even when life takes me farther away, its essence lingers — in the food I crave, the language I hear in my dreams, the values I carry, and the faith that sustained me. This visit wasn’t just a trip. It was a return to where I started. A quiet reminder that no matter where we go, some roots run too deep to forget especially if you’ve been there for almost two decades.
And so, to the city that shaped me, to the people who journeyed with me, and to the God who never left my side — thank you. Until we meet again.