72 Hours in Hong Kong: A Journey Through Streets, Skyscrapers, and Spiritual Stillness
There’s a certain energy in Hong Kong that catches you off guard. It’s fast but not rushed, loud yet poetic, glittering with high rises and humming with incense. I arrived for a three-day trip with a camera in one hand and a dim sum craving in the other — and left feeling like I had just scratched the surface of a city layered with contrasts.
My first glimpse of Hong Kong came from the window of the Airport Express, speeding toward Central. As we emerged from the tunnels into sunlight, I saw the skyline unfold — tall glass towers framed by green hills and Victoria Harbour glittering in between. I dropped my bags at the hotel, grabbed an Octopus Card, and headed straight to the heart of the city.
The City from Above
No introduction to Hong Kong is complete without a visit to Victoria Peak. I took the historic Peak Tram, a steep and slightly surreal ride through the city’s heights. At the summit, the view is everything people say it is — a cinematic sweep of skyscrapers, boats slicing through the harbor, and a density that seems to go on forever. I stood at the Sky Terrace, camera forgotten, just watching the light shift across the water.
Descending back into the bustle, I wandered the leafy lanes of the Mid-Levels and Soho. Street art peeked out from alley walls, old shopfronts sat alongside cocktail bars, and the clatter of mahjong tiles echoed from upstairs windows. At the Man Mo Temple, I stepped into a cloud of incense, where giant coils burned slowly in mid-air, suspended like a dream.
Across the Water: Neon and Nostalgia
That evening, I boarded the Star Ferry — an old-school green-and-white vessel that feels like stepping back in time. As it crossed to Tsim Sha Tsui, the skyline lit up behind us, a thousand lights flickering into view.
Tsim Sha Tsui is a world of its own: a symphony of light, sound, and motion. The promenade stretches along the harbor, ideal for taking in the nightly Symphony of Lights — but I found myself more captivated by the quiet moments in between. The silhouettes of families, couples leaning into the breeze, and street musicians playing for no one in particular. I ended my night with a steaming basket of pork buns at Tim Ho Wan — humble, Michelin-starred, and soul-satisfying.
Markets and Moments
If day one was about spectacle, day two was all texture — the kind you feel under your shoes in Mong Kok, where the city pulses through its street markets. I wandered through the Ladies Market, where vendors offered everything from knockoff handbags to silk pajamas. At the Goldfish Market, aquariums bubbled beneath neon signs, while the Flower Market smelled like spring exploded on the pavement.
Midday brought a change of pace. I visited Wong Tai Sin Temple, where locals lined up to have their fortunes told, kneeling before red pillars and golden altars. A short metro ride away, the atmosphere changed completely — the calm symmetry of Chi Lin Nunnery and the manicured peace of Nan Lian Garden offered a moment of stillness I didn’t know I needed.
Later, as night fell over Kowloon, I made my way to Temple Street Night Market. Smoke rose from food stalls, lanterns swayed above, and the scent of grilled squid and soy sauce hung in the air. I haggled over trinkets, tried stinky tofu (just once), and let the chaos carry me until I found a tiny dai pai dong where I ended my night with claypot rice and cold beer under buzzing fluorescent lights.
A Breath of Island Air
On my last day, I left the city behind. The cable car ride to Ngong Ping is a journey in itself — rising above forests, water, and mist. As I soared toward Lantau Island, the city felt far away. At the top, the Tian Tan Buddha awaited — massive, serene, gazing calmly out across the peaks. Climbing the 268 steps to meet him, I realized how much this city holds in contrast: reverence and speed, tradition and hypermodernity.
Nearby, the Po Lin Monastery shimmered in the sunlight, and monks moved silently across courtyards scented with incense and wildflowers. From there, I caught a small bus to Tai O, a quiet fishing village where time seemed to move differently. Stilt houses lined the water, boats rocked gently in their moorings, and the smell of dried seafood drifted from open-air stalls. I walked slowly, eating tofu pudding from a paper bowl and watching children play by the docks.
Back in the city for my final night, I took the elevator to the top of the Ritz-Carlton and stood with a drink in hand at Ozone, one of the world’s highest bars. Below me, the city blinked to life again — neon arteries and mirrored glass, ferry trails cutting across the harbor like brushstrokes.
Leaving, Not Letting Go
Three days in Hong Kong isn’t enough. You don’t finish it — you just start to taste it. From its dizzying heights to its slow, sacred corners, this is a city that reveals itself in layers.
It’s a place where monks walk alongside stockbrokers, where temples hide behind billboards, and where your next unforgettable meal is probably being served from a street cart.
I came for a quick visit. I left, already planning my return.
Planning Your Trip? Here’s What to Know:
- Best Time to Visit: October to December (cooler, drier, and gorgeous)
- Currency: HKD (grab an Octopus Card at the airport)
- Transport: Incredibly efficient — MTR, trams, ferries, and buses all connect smoothly
- Safety: Solo-friendly, clean, and welcoming
