Hong Kong’s Lost Cultural Wonderland
During the final semester of my undergraduate studies, I had the privilege of spending an exchange semester in Hong Kong in the autumn of 2024. In the months leading up to my departure, I spent countless hours researching all the places I wanted to explore. While I was wandering the neighbourhood of Tai Hang on the eve of the Fire Dragon Dance, I unexpectedly came across a place called the Haw Par Mansion. Nestled quietly among modern apartment buildings, the mansion stood as a beautifully preserved relic of a bygone era. I lingered at the gates, struck by the contrast between the mansion’s ornate design and the urban bustle around it. There was a stillness to the place, as though it existed slightly out of time.
The Haw Par Mansion, also known as the Tiger Balm Garden is a historic residence that once formed part of a much larger garden complex.I inquired if I could join one of their small tours, even though it was only given in Cantonese, which I could. To my surprise, they arranged for a native English speaker to accompany the group and translate the tour especially for me.It was only upon entering the estate that I made the connection between the name Tiger Balm Garden and the Tiger Balm Ointment. The oversight felt almost symbolic, reminding me that, no matter how thoroughly one plans, the most memorable discoveries are often the ones we don’t expect.
As a child, my mother would always fetch a peculiar ointment adorned with a tiger, whenever I experienced muscle or bodily pain of some sort. Reluctantly, I would sit on a wooden stool while she applied the ointment, and as the strong scent filled the room. I had never pondered about the origin or history of that small jar before. The scent that once seemed foreign now felt unexpectedly familiar, even comforting. In that moment, I was reminded of how a scent or an object can bridge continents, time, and identity.
The story of the ointment began with the Burmese-Chinese herbalist Aw Chu Kin, who moved to Rangoon in Burma, which was then under British Colonial rule. Aw opened an apothecary called Eng Aun Tong in the late 1870s, where he would make and sell the original balm called Ban Kin Yu 萬金油 (“Ten Thousand Golden Oil”), which was used to relieve various aches and pains. When Aw Chu Kin died in 1908, he left his business to his two sons Aw Boon Haw (meaning Refined Tiger), and Aw Boon Par (meaning Refined Leopard), who perfected the recipe and renamed the ointment Tiger Balm.
The mansion and its surrounding garden were originally built in 1935 by one of the brothers, Aw Boon Haw. While the house itself was intended as a private residence, the expansive and lavishly decorated garden was generously opened to the public. Unfortunately, I could only appreciate the garden to the extent of my imagination as it was demolished in 2004. Left standing is the grand mansion, a remnant of a time passed and a glimpse into the life and legacy of a global enterprise. The brothers also established two other Tiger Balm Gardens, one located in Singapore built in 1937, and another one in Fujian, completed in 1946.
In an effort to revive Hong Kong’s rich cultural heritage for new generations, Haw Par Mansion has recently opened a new exhibition titled “Virtual Reality: The ‘Ten Courts of Hell’ of Tiger Balm Garden.” Through immersive VR technology, the exhibition seeks to digitally reconstruct the lost murals once found in the original garden, allowing visitors to explore the vivid and often haunting depictions of the Buddhist concept of hell. My unexpected encounter with Haw Par Mansion became more than just a moment of discovery, it was a reminder that history is alive, evolving, and waiting to be rediscovered in new and meaningful ways.
Yours Truly,
The Lady of the Moon