[Video] Retreat or rebirth? How Peng Chau became a cultural refuge in Hong Kong

(Photos: Lim Zhan Ting/SPH Media)

Amid the gentle sounds of waves, 38-year-old Zero Chan unrolls her yoga mat on a deserted beach and arranges a few singing bowls in a neat row, in preparation for a yoga class immersed in nature. Accompanied by the rhythm of the crashing waves and the resonance of the singing bowls, she guides her students to calm their minds, inhaling and exhaling into a state of tranquillity.

Teaching yoga on the beach of Peng Chau, a Hong Kong offshore island, would have been unimaginable in Chan’s youth. She used to be a film producer, working for many years in the glitzy but high-pressure film industry. In 2020, she hit a turning point in her life, moving to Peng Chau and changing careers to become a wellness yoga and sound bath instructor. It felt as if she had stepped into a parallel universe of Hong Kong.

In an interview with Lianhe Zaobao, Chan recalled her initial feelings upon arriving on Peng Chau: “All you see and hear is the sea once you get off the ferry. You naturally slow down your speech and your pace. Within this space, I can take the time to reflect on my feelings, address my own needs, and step away from the exhausting cycle of trying to meet external demands.”

Hong Kong has over 250 islands, with some still retaining a strong rural atmosphere; Peng Chau is one example. This small island, about a 40-minute ferry ride from the city, was once a fishing port and light industrial centre. With Hong Kong’s economic transformation, it has now become a tranquil urban backyard.

Peng Chau is less than one square kilometre in size and is home to around 6,000 residents. Among them are professionals and artists who have moved there in recent years to escape the hustle and bustle of the city. Life on the island is simple and unpretentious: there are no cars and residents mostly get around by bicycle. The island hosts just one supermarket, a few small eateries, and mostly old shops and novelty stores. Compared to more well-known outlying islands like Lamma Island or Cheung Chau, Peng Chau attracts fewer tourists and exudes a quieter atmosphere.

Chan rented a flat with a sea view upon moving to Peng Chau and started her wellness yoga brand, teaching classes on the island. Although her income is less stable, she is confident that this lifestyle suits her better.

She said, “Peng Chau is a spiritual haven for me — a place where people can rest and recharge before setting off on our journeys.” 

The anti-extradition bill protests of 2019, followed by the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020, brought extreme anxiety and hostility to Hong Kong society, but they also prompted people to reflect on the pace and space of their lives. It was exactly during this period that more people got to discover Peng Chau.

Chan recalled that the turmoil of 2019 brought her film production work to a halt, so she went to India to study Buddhism. But the following year, the pandemic hit, and she had to return to Hong Kong. She then followed her inner calling and moved to Peng Chau, embarking on a lifestyle that was more true to herself.

William Shum, a 51-year-old island resident who has lived in Peng Chau for seven years, observed that during the pandemic, travel-starved Hong Kongers turned to exploring offshore islands such as Peng Chau. They noticed that Peng Chau had a pleasant environment and offered a different kind of life.

At the same time, working from home slowly became the norm, which allowed more Hong Kongers who craved space and a natural environment to move to the outlying islands. In 2020, the number of resale residential transactions in Hong Kong’s outlying islands, including Peng Chau, jumped 28.5% compared to the previous year.

Today, Chan hopes to guide urbanites on how to release pent-up and long-term negative emotions through the wellness and yoga classes she runs on Peng Chau.

“In 2019 and 2020, our emotions were at their most intense, such as sadness, helplessness and rage. It is not as intense now, but these emotions still seem to linger in the subconscious… if we can go to their roots and examine the causes, we can then express and dissipate these emotions,” she said.

Shum, on the other hand, is grateful that he can practice the “decluttering” life philosophy on Peng Chau. He said that “the space on this outlying island is limited, which prompts people to rethink what things to keep and what to let go of”.

Shum admitted that a simple life on Peng Chau might sound appealing to many, but not everyone can adapt to it. He observed that some young people moved to Peng Chau but left after two years because life was too inconvenient, with the ferry service being the only way to travel to and from the island. If you stayed in the city too late, you might miss the last ferry home.

“But for us who live [long-term] in Peng Chau, convenience is not our concern. What we care about is the environment and the community here”.

For other islanders, their sense of belonging to Peng Chau is also rooted in their deep affection for the island, and by extension, Hong Kong’s local culture and community.

Kit Chan, who moved to Peng Chau 11 years ago, opened an independent bookshop on the island in early 2021. The small bookshop exudes island charm. Besides selling books related to island culture, a huge poster depicting a map of Peng Chau is plastered on the wall, marking out places of interest such as “area where stray dogs roam about” and “a spot to be alone”.

Commercial returns are clearly not a top priority when one is selling books on a rather inconveniently located island with a small population. 

Kit Chan noted that, like many independent bookstore operators in Hong Kong who started their businesses after 2019, he realised that Hong Kong’s culture was undergoing a major transformation. He had wondered, “Instead of just letting go, can we do something to preserve it?”

He said the bookshop not only records and passes on Peng Chau’s local culture, but it also provides a broader perspective, allowing readers to think about what it means to be a Hong Konger and how to preserve this identity for the next generation.

On the future of Hong Kong, Kit Chan is cautiously optimistic. “For me, Hong Kong has always had its ups and downs, but as a whole it is on a downward trend… many are trying to do something for this city, and I chose to open a bookshop. These efforts are all good, but it’s not clear to me what their impact would be when taking a long-term view.”

In a rapidly changing world, the relatively quiet offshore island of Peng Chau retains a sense of certainty, serving as a valuable spiritual oasis for its residents.

“Peng Chau has healed me,” Chan said. “It provides me with the space to reorganise myself and then reconnect with the city, allowing me to understand clearly the role I play and how I can contribute.”

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “坪洲——香港人的心靈避風港”.

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