I paid a witch to put a curse on my enemy. It didn't go well

I paid a witch to put a curse on my enemy. It didn't go well

What's your weapon of choice? A stiletto? A ballet flat? Maybe a beat up old boot?

It's not a question I ever expected to be confronted with but here I am, sitting on a red plastic stool beneath a flyover in Wan Chai with a fateful footwear choice to make. The city's traffic rumbles overhead while a wizened woman beckons me with her battered shoe. She is one of the last of Hong Kong's so called rent a curse grannies: elderly women who eke out a living practicing traditional folk sorcery.

I'm drawn to Wan Chai by the promise of witnessing a villain-bashing ceremony. For a small fee the friendly witch will smite my chosen villain with her shoe feed them to a tiger and then burn them into oblivion. What's not to love? My family and friends had made me promise I wouldn't give their name to the witch. Lucky for them I already have a petty nemesis chosen well in advance.

I take a seat at the granny's shrine which is decked out with incense, stern-looking deities, fruit offerings and a smiling golden cat holding a hammer. It dawns on me I should have come with a translator. The woman asks for a name and in the confusion I accidentally give her my own. She briskly writes it down on a piece of paper and before I can correct her we were off. The witch pounds my name to shreds with a white ballet flat while muttering incantations in Cantonese. Before the torn scraps of paper have time to hit the ground she's fed me to a tiger shaped envelope and set me on fire. The tiger burns to ash in her hands and the woman deftly dumps the lot into a trash can beside her. She turns to me and grins.

But we were not done yet. She waves a burning fan of paper around my head to guard me against bad spirits then hands me 2 carved wooden sticks that look like rotten bananas. Her hands clasping mine we raise the sticks together and then drop them at my feet. I don't know what's happened but the witch is ecstatic and gives me double high fives. It turns out the position that the two sticks fall in  either facing upwards or downwards can predict my fortune. She tells me I will have the very best of luck during my stay in Hong Kong.

I thank the sorceress and stumble off in a daze trying to figure out whether I'm cursed or blessed. At first I'm tempted to laugh off the experience as a tourist trick but, looking around, I realise I'm the only foreigner beneath the flyover. All around me are local women making appointments with their neighborhood witch sitting with either their daughters or sons and asking for good fortune.

This isn't just a theatrical performance, but part of a deeper superstition ingrained in Hong Kong's culture. Even amid the city's glitzy mega malls and trendy eateries it seems old school mysticism and superstition still survive you just need to know where to look.

Mystified, my search to learn more takes me to the back streets of Sham Shui Po a laid back blue collar neighborhood in Kowloon that feels a world away from the clamor of Hong Kong island. My guide, Carrie, walks us into a traditional medicine store where engorged fish bladders hang like ghosts from the ceiling. Clear jars of dried shriveled things look out at us as Carrie explains the basics of folk medicine. There are seahorses to improve your circulation. Thin slices of reindeer horn to help men in the boudoir. Dried out swallow's nests that improve kidney function when soaked in soup.

Carrie holds out sun-dried geckos which have been crucified on a skewer cross, and asks if I want a taste. The ingredients are unsurprisingly, prohibitively expensive and Carrie predicts that folk medicine shops like these will soon die out within a generation as Hong Kong's youth become more worldly.

All around Hong Kong there are signs that folk practices are slowly fading or at least being safeguarded by the few who remain faithful. The traditional temples and medicine shops are being edged further towards the fringes and becoming trickier to find. In the more remote province of Sai Kung, part of the far-flung New Territories on the eastern coast I discover Tin Hau Temple almost deserted.

Following tendrils of incense inside I watch a solitary woman patiently kneeling before an altar. She is also using the fortune sticks I had seen in Wan Chai. She drops them looks at the result prays and then drops them again. She finally gets a result she's happy with so she burns some prayer papers and then hurries off. Tempting fate, I pick up the sticks and toss them again just to be sure. I still have my good luck.

Back in the neon streets of SoHo I'm mingling with the city's youth. All around you can see the steady encroachment of globalization. There's funky eateries showcasing a variety of pan-Asian influences and bars stocked almost exclusively with international beers.

The city is bustling in preparation for the Hong Kong E-Prix. I take dinner at Ho Lee Fook a restaurant pulsating with the energy of an underground nightclub that serves modern interpretations of Cantonese classics. A table of expats next to me shout "gom bui" while knocking back shots.

At the end of the meal comes a fortune cookie in a chirpy green wrapper and I can't help but laugh at this little piece of imported sorcery. In a city where I can consult a witch to read my fortune or brew a potion to improve my libido the idea that the US-invented cookie might outlive Hong Kong's own folk culture feels ludicrous. Cracking it open the cookie sagely warns I should "safeguard my secrets by removing my enemies". I mentally start planning another visit to my good witch under the bridge tomorrow morning. Maybe this time I will choose the stiletto.


Wreathed in sandalwood smoke you will likely smell Man Mo Temple long before you see it. Step inside one of Hong Kong's oldest temples and observe locals performing age-old prayer rituals.


This Buddhist temple once enjoyed views that is until the shoreline receded. Inside you will find a sorcerer who has a unique way of bashing villains by using a sword!


Take a day-trip to Lantau Island to witness lush mountain views and the incredible Big Buddha statue. Fill up on monk food at Po Lin Monastery which stands opposite.


Ignore it's imposing size, this sprawling complex is all about serenity. Watch nuns make offerings to Buddha then take some time to reflect in the calm surrounds of Nan Lian Garden.


Inside this quirky monastery yo will find 5 halls containing some 12,800 Buddha statues and the preserved remains of the temple's founder encased behind glass.

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