Diving for Pissing Shrimp

May 7: Dive bars don’t seem to exist in Hong Kong. Exorbitant rental costs paired with expensive liquor licensing results in sky-high drink prices in the cool bar districts (albeit, cheaper than nice bars in large U.S. cities, like Chicago). Aside from the afternoon happy hour specials, there don’t seem to be many places to get a cheap drink and relax with friends in Hong Kong.

I haven’t been going out much during my trip here, but this was my observation until today.

District markets provide the solution. These markets are provided by the Hong Kong government in districts around the city. Tonight, we have dinner in the Aberdeen Municipal Market. Like the other large municipal market where I’ve visited (Sheung Wan), it has a number of restaurants on the top floor. The food prices are cheap, as are prices for beer. The restaurant opens 6 p.m. till 2 a.m.

Joyce and I don’t actually order any beer – only complimentary tea for us – but there are a number of tables full of people drinking. Pretty beer girls decked out in “Carlsberg” and “San Miguel (a local brew)” refill their glasses. A table of girls plays a dice drinking game between their dinner plates. A table of men talk about the ongoing horse races at the Happy Valley Racetrack.

Also, seafood here is a great price – possibly in part because Aberdeen has historic ties to the fishing community. We order sweet and sour pork, vegetables rice and “pissing shrimp (攋 尿 蝦 or laaih niuh hā).” The shrimp aren’t on the menu, so Joyce makes a special order. The staff does not appear to speak any English, so if Joyce weren’t here, I might be paying far more for the meal (if I managed to order at all) – and not eating any special orders. Altogether the dinner is $160 HK.

Covered in garlic, the shrimp are especially tasty. I’ve never eaten such shrimp before – more like crawdads or tiny lobsters. In English, they are known as “mantis shrimp.” Joyce asks the waitress if we can see the live creatures. The waitress asks the owner, in Cantonese, “Do they really piss?” “Of course,” Joyce translates his words, “why else would they be called pissing.”

The restaurant owner scoops a small net full of the squirming crustaceans. He selects one by the tail, dangles it in the air. Scared, it pees. The urine drips onto the thin plastic table covering.