My stomach ached. Air was barely escaping my lungs. Dizzily enchanted by the floating white grin across from me - I felt similarly suspended in time. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the thousands of kilometres away from home. I couldn’t quite explain my delusional state. All I knew was that we had been nervously laughing since the second we leapt into the ill-lit cab and heard the first reminder of due payment. “Ting”. The meter went off yet again, an almost perfectly timed cue to take a breath. Jabu’s booming laughter, in sync with my own, echoed against the confines of the tiny yellow taxi as we wound away from Pak Tam Chung Holiday Camp. Our only sense of familiarity dwindled as we neared our new destination. “Ting”. God, this was going to cost a fortune. “Sai Kung”. We fumbled in our wallets, briefly relieved by the surprisingly low taxi-fare, only to remember the rude reality of the rand to Hong Kong dollar exchange rate. Adrien, a post-graduate student from Hong Kong University, guided us towards a charming storefront decorated with an enticing collection of vibrant desserts; the other students scattered along the sides. Ah, brought back to our original mission: to satisfy the sweet tooth. We naturally huddled into our distinct South African and Hong Kong clusters and poured over the menus, riddled with choice. The Hong Kong students were clearly energised to be free from ‘baby-sitting’ South Africans all day. It was finally time to let loose. Excited whispers amongst the Hong Kong postgraduates became loud exclamations, insisting that everyone try the durian pancakes - the durian fruit had been a hot topic of conversation leading up to this late-night dessert pursuit. Motivated by curiosity and a sense of adventure, a round of durian pancakes was now on the cards. Cantonese and English chatter peppered with the odd Afrikaans exchange was abruptly interrupted by a collective grimace on the face of the South Africans. The odour that now saturated the air conjured up memories of the sweaty bodies that had traveled together from the airport to the site of the field trip that same day. The source of the smell was placed on the table and we were prompted to ‘dig-in’. A not-so-sweet-treat. We were baffled by the local’s delight at this supposed ‘delicacy’ and turned up our noses all the while the Hong Kong student’s heads were down, mouths stuffed. There was a clear divide. With bellies that were now full, or at least not so eager to eat anything more, we made our way along the boardwalk by the harbour front. As if almost to accentuate the atmosphere of divide, we could feel the weight of eyes confirming our foreigner-status. Jabu and I, a juxtaposition of a tall black man and a blonde white woman, seemed to challenge the lack of obvious outward diversity amongst the locals watching on. Coming from South Africa, we have always been acutely aware of race, but here it was not a straight-forward black and white concern, but rather a case of intrigue. As we moved from one pair of eyes to the next, our own interest was piqued by the array of lively sea creatures in glass displays along the seafront – begging to be stared at. The sheer variety of fascinating fish had our eyes experience a level of sensory overload akin to what our nostrils had been subjected to a few minutes earlier. Curiosity overwhelmed social etiquette as we found ourselves pressed up against the glass tanks, perhaps a little too close for comfort. Eyes scrutinising the unknown – ours on the sea creatures and the local’s eyes on us. I almost immediately understood the intense fascination with something so foreign and unfamiliar. Once we had our full, we stepped back silently appreciating the new. Silhouetted by the Sai-Kung seafood market, we stood entranced by the glistening water surface in front of us. The black of the night sprinkled with shimmers of white stars and colourful lights, a little ‘rainbow nation’ if you will and an unexpected reminder of home. Ever aware of my foreigner status, I smiled, bemused by the solace I still felt in this unknown.