Shenzhen, in a Blink

I crossed into Shenzhen with a notebook in my bag and a question in my chest: What does a city become when it’s told to dream in code?

China's First Free Port

It was the late 1990s, and China’s first free port was humming with possibility—glass towers rising where fishing boats once docked, circuit boards replacing silk. I didn’t know then that I was walking into the blueprint of a future metropolis, a place where speed was currency and reinvention was law. I came as a traveler, just for a short visit, but left as a witness to something rare: a city mid-transformation, writing its own origin story in real time.

It began with an invitation. A friend knew I was in Hong Kong and asked me to join her for the opening of her restaurant in Macao. I took a mid-afternoon ferry, notebook still in my bag, and headed toward her rented condominium near the pier. I dreaded walking, so I waited for a shuttle van that ferried residents to and from the villa and the city center.

Like a European Parliament

When I arrived, the guests were already in high spirits—glasses of whiskey in hand, laughter spilling into the room. I was introduced to a lively mix of Europeans: a German, a Belgian, a Frenchman, and others whose nationalities I can no longer recall. It felt like the opening of the European Parliament, only with more warmth and less protocol.

The restaurant’s name escapes me now, but the evening remains vivid. There was ribbon-cutting, a short and heartfelt speech from my friend, prayers for blessings, long toasts, and well wishes. But what stayed with me most was the tête-à-tête over dinner. I was seated with my friend Inez, her husband Louis—a Belgian—and the German guest who casually mentioned he was opening a restaurant in Shenzhen the very next day. We were all invited. I lit up.

That night, I stayed with Inez and braced myself for what I knew would be an adventure. Shenzhen, a special economic zone on the east bank of the Pearl River estuary, was already gaining momentum. In 2020, its population would reach 17.5 million—a mighty, populous city indeed.

The next day, I woke to the sound of clinking cutlery. Inez and Louis were already having lunch. Famished, I joined them, and the conversation turned to Shenzhen. Louis, I learned, ran an electronics factory there. Later that afternoon, we drove to the city in his car. I didn’t hold a visa, and strangely, the thought didn’t occur to me until I was back in the Philippines.

My First Glimpse of Shenzhen, China's Silicon Valley

My first glimpse of Shenzhen was from a hillside vantage point, looking down into a valley of lights—each building, big or small, glimmering like a pixel in a digital dreamscape. It was breathtaking. Like staring at a postcard of a city breaking out of its shell.

When we arrived, my excitement grew. The German—whose name I sadly can’t recall—welcomed us warmly. He managed a factory producing electronic parts for German cars, and seeing a gap in the market, decided to open a restaurant serving German cuisine. The opening was simple, understated. But our conversation about Shenzhen’s history was anything but. I realized then that China’s ascent to global economic power was no longer a distant forecast—it was unfolding before my eyes.

My visit was brief, but the impression was indelible. I promised myself I’d return. I haven’t yet. But it’s a promise I still intend to keep.