Looking for Suzy Wong — Wandering Through Fiction in Wan Chai

I’ve been to Hong Kong many times—mostly for business, with days marked by boardrooms, briefings, and bottled water in crisp hotel lobbies. But on one particular visit, after the last meeting had ended and my schedule loosened, I took a turn toward something different.

I decided to wander—not just through Hong Kong’s famous attractions, but into its back streets. I wanted to feel the tempo beneath the skyline, the pulse that fiction once captured. I was drawn, rather unexpectedly, to the memory of a film: The World of Suzy Wong.

Now, I don’t consider myself a film buff, but I do enjoy old and foreign movies, especially the kind that leave a mood behind. Suzy Wong’s story was set in post-war Hong Kong—a romance wrapped in social commentary, framed by neon signs and quiet longing. And while I knew the character was fictional, something about her world felt real enough to search for.

My fascination had started days earlier while browsing for things to do in my free time. An old Time magazine article from 1960 caught my eye—a review of the film that spoke more of the city than the storyline. I marveled at the fact that Time’s archives were so accessible online. Their diligence in preserving stories from decades past felt oddly aligned with my own desire to hold onto moments that slip too easily away.

The story was set in Wan Chai. The hotel featured—Nam Kok Hotel—was based on the old Luk Kwok Hotel on Gloucester Road. I read that the building had been redeveloped in the 1980s, though it retained a hint of the gracious style once considered traditional Hong Kong. Somewhere between fact and fiction, the city held Suzy’s presence like a whisper — elusive, yet persistent.

I walked past the Star Ferry terminal, traced paths through Central and Aberdeen, paused at temples, lingered in markets. Even in the absence of exact cinematic frames, Hong Kong stirred something familiar. The rhythm of its merchants, the hush in old alleys, the scent of roast duck mingling with incense — it felt like Suzy’s story had scattered into the city’s bones.

Modern Hong Kong no longer wears the mood of Suzy Wong’s world. The skyline is bolder, the pace quicker, the edges sharper. Yet the essence — the quiet undercurrent of memory and identity — still pulses beneath it all. You feel it in the corridors of Wan Chai, in the language of ferry rides, in the markets where locals trade stories alongside spices.

I didn’t find Suzy Wong’s apartment. I didn’t need to.

Because sometimes, the search itself becomes the story..

Images: Canva