Hong Kong Travels: Tai Po to Science Park

I was looking for an urban location I hadn’t visited before and settled on Tai Po. For those of you who are unaware or don’t remember, there was a tragic fire at a residential building a few months ago. More than a hundred people died, from the very young to the very old. One of my dance partners who lives in Tai Po had an exhausting week volunteering to help those affected. She broke into tears during a rehearsal after receiving a message, although I didn’t pry further to find out why. Disaster tourism was not the reason for selecting it, but the tragedy was a constant presence both mentally and physically.  

To begin with however, the town is a typical mix of modern public projects like the gargantuan community centre, and well-worn apartment blocks that make obvious how much land the developers were able to buy. The central square by Tai Ming Lane is surrounded in very short order by thrift shops, so many that you wonder how they each manage to supply their piles of underwear and Engrish t-shirts.  

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There’s something reminiscent of a self-contained community about Tai Po.  It sounds strange to say, considering its size and serviced MTR stop, but the square and nearby market are undisturbed by any large or international chain – food, clothing, or otherwise. Stalls sell fresh sugar cane juice and soy pudding, two things you never see in the more touristy spots. Signs and prices for Chinese medicine drinks are entirely in Chinese, because why would a foreigner be buying anything they are selling? The one sign I did see with deliberate English was for a foot massage parlour that explicitly says, in illuminated lights: “no sexual service.” Pigs’ heads and offal also dissuade most Westerners too used to sanitised packaging and the distance between the ingredient and the source. In fact, I only saw two Westerners in Tai Po. One was busking in the square, and another was sitting in a Starbucks in a shopping centre. Personally, I enjoyed being out of my element, but it helped to have Victoria there to point out things I may have otherwise missed or help me buy food at bakeries more easily. 

What cements this for me is how matter of fact the market street is. It’s a whirlwind of products and hawkers, some with a fruit stand at the front of a thrift shop at the back, or toys and antiques in the same space, or boxes of water bottles and assorted snacks spread out across half the pavement. The moment that stood out to both of us was watching the frequent deliveries of entire pig carcasses to the butcher stand. Piles of pigs cut in half and cries to move out of the way parted the gossiping window-shoppers. Victoria and I stayed a while on the opposite side of the street to watch the butchers work. The nonchalant, mechanical style with which they separated the carcasses into specific cuts was fascinating. And to think that all that time and effort to raise the pig, just to sell its parts for $28 (£2.80) per piece too. Neither of us was particularly in the mood for more sausage buns afterwards. 

We felt we needed to address the elephant in the room eventually. Victoria wondered if we should bring some flowers to pace at the site as a sign of respect, but as it turns out you cannot get close enough to lay them

anyway. Wang Fuk Court caught fire on 26^th November 2025. Seven of the eight blocks that make up the complex were consumed when the bamboo scaffolding went up in flames, killing over 150 people. Should we have gone to visit it? We felt it would have been a deliberate choice not to, though we were concerned whether we were indulging in ‘disaster tourism’ by doing so.  

Had it not been for recent events, there would be no need to visit the area at all. The apartment blocks are numerous, close together, and quiet. You can see laundry drying outside people’s windows, a small local market underneath one of the buildings for the immediate community, and a small playground. Hardly a must-see part of Tai Po. But the feeling of self-containment and neighbourhood makes the scene of the fire all the more heartbreaking. 

The area around Wang Fuk Court is closed, understandably, and patrolled by quite a large police force. There are barriers in the street and a guard post to further indicate you are not allowed in the area. Sadly, the towers are so tall that you don’t need to get close to see the devastation. Broken bamboo scaffolding hangs off the buildings, no longer attached, swaying in the wind. Shredded green canvases ripple, and look deeply singed at the edges. When you see how blackened the towers, like charcoal that hasn’t crumbled, there are really no words to describe the reality of such a tragedy. I imagined how it must have felt at the time, and how it has felt since, for the neighbours to look at it next door. It could so easily have been them. Perhaps they knew people who lived in those buildings, or tried to help them, or gave interviews afterwards. Now, if they look out the window, their entire view is seven blocks of burnt concrete and all they hear are men taking apart their skeletons. 

Though we began to make our way towards Science Park, every time we looked behind us, we could see those buildings. The people there had a gorgeous sea view, so while riding your bike along the coast you can hardly avoid looking at it at least some of the time. 

Then the further you walk from Tai Po, on a footpath that makes you regret not renting a bike, you see an old man selling frozen fruit slices for a few dollars. I’m not sure what path through life led him to and his cart to a random spot between the bike lane and the main road, but the pineapple is a better buy than the peach. 

Finally, after rounding the corner and the path increases considerably in width, you see glass buildings and young professionals hovering outside of Science Park. It is a world away from the local, organic Tai Po market. Science Park is purpose-built, modelled as a campus for computer technology. A few drones were flying overhead while we were there, as if to stress the technological aspect. Inside, there are dedicated maps to show you which floor has what sort of food, like an airport departure area. There is a strange ‘bean’ as Victoria called it, which apparently acts as an auditorium, though it looks like a minimalist spaceship. Water features are pleasant to walk by, though hardly anyone was there to agree with me. This model of modernity is a style I love, if I am going to be in an ultra-modern space – clean lines plenty of glass and light, but also empty in the early evening so you can enjoy it in private.  

Finally, after a well-earned carb-heavy meal at one of the many restaurants, Victoria took a taxi back home, and I took a bus to Sha Tin, before home as well. I chose Tai Po because I hadn’t been there before, and I had no expectations for what I would see or do, but parts of it were calm, poignant, hectic, and raw. I don’t think I will visit again without good reason, but I would have regretted never going once.