[Ms. Miao’s Memoirs] — Me and the Sea Series （2）

Sunset over Victoria Harbour

Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong

By Miao Huiqiong

From a geographical perspective, Victoria Harbour is not an open sea, but a narrow natural waterway nestled between Hong Kong Island and the Kowloon Peninsula, connecting to the outer ocean at both ends. It lacks the vast, distant grandeur of the Pacific; instead, it is a sea of daily life—where waves lap against breakwaters, the scent of oil tankers mingles with sea salt, and the waters are held tenderly in the embrace of the land.

In the summer when Sichen was four, a close friend and I took our children to Hong Kong Disneyland. Victoria Harbour was merely an interlude in our journey, with very little time allotted to it.

I vaguely remember the harbor at dusk, when the midday heat had faded and the air was thick with the aroma of street food from afar. Under the sunset, the sea looked like crumpled silk, churning and flowing with the harbor’s breath. Nearby, several Star Ferries slowly cut through the silence; the ripples they created spread toward both shores, as if time itself were flowing slowly across the water.

The Bruce Lee statue on the Avenue of Stars

Standing on the Avenue of Stars and looking across the water, the skyline of Hong Kong Island rises and falls from east to west like notes on a musical score. The Central district buildings climb the mountainside, home to the city’s most recognizable landmarks: IFC, the Bank of China Tower, Jardine House, and the Hong Kong Observation Wheel... all sinking into the afterglow of the sun. If the skyline were a symphony, the Central cluster would be its most brilliant and dazzling cadenza.

On the Avenue of Stars, the bronze statue of Bruce Lee looks even more resolute in the sunset. That timeless silhouette has become a permanent symbol of struggle and power in the hearts of his many admirers. Meanwhile, the fluttering skirt of Anita Mui conveys the unique resilience and elegance of Hong Kong through the sea breeze.

Maggie Cheung's handprints

When I gently placed my hand over those bronze palm prints, the metallic coolness and the uneven texture beneath my fingertips seemed to merge with the temperature of a film set from decades ago. The figures of superstars flashed through my mind like slides—moments from their films and their lives. This sea witnessed their peaks and their bows, and the shimmering light on the water now felt like a reunion with those vivid memories across time and space.

Later, whether for travel or layovers, my family returned to Hong Kong several times. We had the chance to visit Sky100, ride the Observation Wheel, and look down at the harbor from Victoria Peak at different angles and times. Even on a rushed itinerary, we would always stroll by the harbor in the evening, feel the sea breeze, and watch the lights of Central flicker to life.

Finally, I would like to conclude this essay with "Pearl of the Orient," a Chinese classic written by Taiwanese singer-songwriter Lo Ta-yu, who settled in Hong Kong in the late 1980s. He wrote it while observing the city's changes, watching the tides, and feeling the "five-thousand-year-old sea breeze":

The little river winds its way south, flowing to the fragrant river for a look.

Pearl of the Orient, my love, is your elegance as romantic as before?

The crescent-moon harbor, looking back at the vast and misty sea.

The Pearl of the Orient never sleeps all night, keeping its promise through the changing sands of time.

Early morning, February 4, 2026, in Bangkok