Tai Chi in Hong Kong

In early December 2024, I traveled from Los Angeles to Hong Kong to visit beloved friends I hadn’t seen in 25 years. It had also been decades since I visited their city, and I was struck by how much it had transformed.

Since China reclaimed Hong Kong in 1997, the old-school Chinese neon signs and decorative red facades have gradually given way to the dazzling designer stores that dominate cities worldwide. The holiday centerpiece of Hong Kong’s famously illuminated harbor was a towering golden Christian Dior Christmas tree.

Weeks before my trip, I had hoped to experience the early morning tai chi groups I’d heard about in Victoria Park—one of the city’s largest green spaces. By the third day of my visit, I was ready. Assured by my hosts it was safe, I set out before dawn, walking among early morning workers on my way to the park, about a mile from my hotel.

As the sun broke through the clouds, I entered the park and discovered small clusters of people engaged in calisthenics, yoga, and dance. Then I spotted a group, perhaps 80 or 90, mostly senior men and women, practicing tai chi in tennis shoes on a concrete plaza.

It wasn’t a form I recognized, but there was enough I was familiar with that after watching from a distance for a while, trying to stay unobtrusive, I did my best to follow. The sharp turns and jumps were challenging, but I drew on my knowledge of the Yang form and the principles taught by the Tai Chi Foundation to approximate their movements. After class, a Filipina woman who spoke English and Cantonese cheerfully introduced me to the teacher. I thanked her, concerned that I’d been a distraction, especially as the only non-Asian, but she graciously invited me to return the next day.

I did, and the second day was a bit easier. I followed along as well as possible from a far back corner. I loosened my grip on the performative feeling that sometimes steals my confidence and fear of judgment. I thought:  No one knows me. I’ll focus on my dantian, connect to the Earth below and the Heavens above, and share this moment with a group of strangers— all here, in a park, just doing tai chi.

On the third day, everything shifted. Arriving an hour later, I encountered a smaller group of mixed ages, doing what I immediately recognized as our Yang Style short form. After observing several groups that used bent wrists, seeing hands in beauteous positions were familiar and inviting. It felt like home, but I again stood at a distance.

It was clearly a B1 class, mainly populated by beginners. The teacher, an older Chinese man, demonstrated concepts I understood instantly. Though I couldn’t comprehend his words, his movements—showing a 100% stance versus a 70-30 stance, emptying the weight from the “empty” leg, and moving from the dantian—were entirely clear.

The experience was extraordinary. A window opened, and language ceased to matter. It reminded me of chess players who connect across language barriers. After observing the group and practicing the first third of the form several times at a distance, the teacher waved me over, motioning me to join on the left flank. A familiar face—the teacher from the previous day’s group was there and smiled reassuringly.

Nervous but determined, I tried to settle into place. I took a breath, recentered into my dantian, and reminded myself this isn’t a foreign place— it’s one I know. My tai chi wings spread a bit.

Their Yang practice had slight variations from ours. More experienced students took longer steps. They seemed to emphasize the weight and strength of their shoulders more in coordination with their hips. In the push position, their hands tilted inward, not quite parallel—the left hand slightly higher than the right. Otherwise, the form was nearly identical to ours.

Being in a foreign land but moving through a familiar sense of space and time was a truly magical gift. I was overcome with gratitude for my practice and the path that led me to the moment — finding my tai chi in Victoria Park, Hong Kong,

As the plane carried me back to Los Angeles, I reflected on the experience and the way tai chi bridged cultures and transcended language. Somewhere over the Pacific, I wrote this:

Haiku at 30,000 Feet
Dreams suspended from Heaven
Body held by the Earth
Floating Midnight Dantian

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You can learn more about tai chi by exploring the diverse offerings of the Tai Chi Foundation (TCF). TCF provides live online courses, allowing you to participate in guided sessions in the comfort of your home. These virtual classes offer unique opportunities to connect with experienced instructors, ensuring that you receive personalized guidance and feedback. Additionally, the Tai Chi Foundation offers Teachable on-demand classes, providing a flexible and accessible way to learn at your own pace. Whether you’re a beginner or an experienced practitioner, these online resources offer a wealth of knowledge to enrich your tai chi journey. For those seeking a more hands-on experience, check out the regular course offerings of TCF’s affiliated local schools.

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TCF is a not-for-profit educational organization that promotes, funds, and teaches programs that enable people to learn tai chi chuan and embody its principles.

Marina Muhlfriedel

Tai Chi Foundation 2025