The essence of heaven and earth merged to form rocks.

Water is the blood stream of a mountain, plants are its hair, and clouds its expression.

Bodhi is no tree and a mirror is not a stand. Since there is nothing material, on where can dust gather?

For a few minutes, walking into Hong Kong felt like a walk into freedom, joyous capitalist English-speaking freedom without x-rays and fences. I became obsessed with finding signs of Britishness, post-1997 Chinese government, and a distinctive Hong Kong identity.

Hong Kong actually consists of more than just skyscrapers, so I spent the first few nights on Lantau,  the biggest island. It’s largely rural and hilly, though ‘rural’ might be a bit strong: the villages are separated by a few hundred metres of banana trees and ferns, through which wind concrete paths and roaming cows and buffalo. Higher up the mountains there is real hiking to be done, but you’re never far from the ever-encroaching urbanisation.

I was taken to Tai O, a little fishing village on stilts with streets lined with pale yellow dried fish – there was a splendid goggle-eyed puffa fish and even a dried shark hanging up. Further on we came across a temple to the God of War and Righteousness (the same being – the God of War and Literature was also quite common) with a small side temple to the protector of the seas. Every house had a little shrine by the door: a small image on the wall with offerings of incense and oranges. In temples all around Hong Kong, people knelt before the altars shaking pots of sticks until one fell out, which would then be interpreted to read the person’s future. It’s not Buddhism or Taoism but the local religion, which is still strong even among smartphone wielding workers.

Hakka women in their traditional hats trimmed the grass along paths to protect against snakes, and fishermen lowered fishing nets into the water from punt-like boats. It was very – unusually – humid, and each day for a few minutes it poured heavily with warm rain. There were banana trees in flower and every evening was filled with frogs’ croaking.

After this somewhat unorthodox introduction I moved to Hong Kong central. The balcony of my 16th floor appartment had a splendid view over the waters to Lantau and the other islands, and like most Hong Kong households, there was a Filipino ‘helper’ to do everything for us.

Tall streets merged seamlessly with the ubiquitous shopping mall. These were our refuge in the humidity. How can there be such an insatiable desire to shop? Kowloon, the mainland side, is noticeably different from the island: the second language is Mandarin rather than English, and it caters to Chinese mainland tourists rather than city suits.

My guide to the city was a real foodie, so took me on an essential Hong Kong dining tour. Breakfast was dim sum at a traditional restaurant in a crowded upstairs room, where we began by washing our bowls and chopsticks in tea. Then I was assured that scrambled egg on toast and tea with condensed milk from the Australian Dairy Company (famous for its efficiency) was a real HK institution and not to be missed.  Finally we ended with classic wonton noodle soup at the Peak, before heading down the hill for the less touristy but even more postcard perfect views of the city and the water, where lightning bolts and laser beams danced across the murky night sky.

One of the most unexpected enjoyments was the coma-inducingly named Hong Kong Monetary Authority Information Centre (basically a museum about money). It’s on the 55th floor of the tallest building and has glass walls with spectacular views up towards the city and across the water. But in some ways the museum was even more interesting. Hong Kong lives and breathes money organically; a beautiful display panel depicted the life cycle of a polymer note just like another museum might display the life cycle of the butterfly. The museum performed the honourable task of spreading knowledge about banking and finance, and existed solely to aid public enlightenment. But it was very hard to try and look inside when the view outside was so hypnotic.

It was wonderful to have a taste of the tropics before my imminent second winter. I didn’t find Hong Kong crowded or unpleasant, and was fascinated by the way glass and steel live alongside Confucian poetry, superstition and tradition. But there’s only so much shopping I can cope with.