Two stiffened, desiccated lizards catch my eye. The pair of foot-long reptiles are speared shish kabob-style on thin wooden skewers, dry bellies splayed open with the aid of miniature struts, so they resemble macabre fans. The gruesome twosome is on display in the first of several lighted glass cases mounted on a wall. This particular repository is labeled "Animals" in both English letters and in Chinese characters. The lizards share space with a few small mummified creatures and with a potpourri of preserved animal parts – including antlers, gall bladders, exoskeletons, and reproductive organs.

The next two exhibit cases are labeled "Marine Products" and "Rooted & Leafy," and they contain an assortment of whole and dismembered ocean organisms and an array of plant roots, stems, leaves, and flowers. Another display showcases minerals, among them cinnabar, amber and crushed pearls.

Am I visiting a museum of natural science? No, I am inspecting the educational exhibits at Eu Yan Sang, a very famous Hong Kong Chinese Medicine shop.

A staff of knowledgeable and respected herbalists, dressed in uniforms of starched white shirts and red ties, waits to fill doctor's prescriptions and to give advice about over-the-counter preparations. It is fascinating to watch the experts measure and weigh the various natural products in hand-held sets of scales and then dispense them to patrons, sending the clients home to brew medicinal teas, soups and stews.

Yin and Yang ^†

The philosophy underlying the ancient science and art of Chinese medicine asserts that man lives between Heaven and Earth and that he contains a miniature universe within. Maintaining equilibrium between "yin" and "yang" (negative and positive or feminine and masculine forces) in the body is all important. If the balance is disturbed, ill health will develop.

Should an upset occur, a traditionalist will first take the problem to an herbalist at a medicine shop before seeking the advice of a Western-trained doctor. A pharmacist will discuss the symptoms, feel the client's pulse and prescribe a treatment based on his assessment.

After the stop at Eu Yan Sang I visit Nam Pak Hong, a centuries-old dry food and herb market. This center of wholesale commerce is an extravaganza of sights sounds, and scents. The bustling bazaar supplies the raw material for both Chinese pharmacies and most restaurants in Hong Kong. Many of the dehydrated animals, viscous potions and aromatic herbs on view in jars, boxes and bins would be in my bowl and on my plate at lunch.

Balancing Act

According to Eastern thought, foods are dominated by either yin or yang or they are neutral. Some foods are "cold" and ruled by yin. Bland, low-calorie fare falls into this category. Other foods are "hot" and express their yang qualities through rich oiliness. In addition, time-honored dietary beliefs dictate that foods come in five basic tastes which affect specific organs of the body: saltiness (kidneys), sweetness (spleen), sourness (liver), bitterness (heart), and hotness (lungs). A well-balanced diet is the foundation of a robust constitution. And manipulating the different constituents to make up for excesses or deficiencies in yin or yang is seen as the path to well-being or to cure.   

The traditional Chinese approach to health to is one of prevention. "Food medicine" is the main tool employed in preserving a sense of well-being. Possibly no country on earth has a longer history of experimenting with the fortifying and curative powers of food than China. About 2,200 years ago the emperor established the position of Imperial Dietician and over the centuries these specialists refined folk medicine into a science. Research at the University of Hong Kong (and throughout the world) is proving there is much truth in folk medicine.

Bird's Nest Soup

Some foods are praised for their beauty-enhancing properties. Fish maw and sea cucumber are apparently loaded with cosmetic potential. And the gelatinous ingredients found in soups made from birds' nests, sharks' fins and green turtles supposedly do wonders for the complexion.       

After my visit to Nam Pak Hong market, I stop for a beautifying snack at Nam Sing Bird's Nest, a restaurant that specializes in a Chinese delicacy made from the cleaned nests of a specific kind of Asian swallow that roosts high on cliff faces. Actually, it is the spittle of the birds that is prized. The purified, protein-rich substance is reported to contribute to radiant, glowing skin. Although the soup may be beneficial to the eater, I learned that harvesting the increasingly rare nests is extremely dangerous to the gatherer, hence the gourmet status of the dish and the high price tag.

I opted for a cold version of the soup. It is prepared with coconut milk, sugar and chips of ice. My Western sensibilities recoiled somewhat at the lumps in my soup. However, it occurred to me that American and European cosmetics included distasteful things like placenta and collagen (from who knows where) in their ingredient lists.

Health Food Lunch

Most Chinese restaurants serve the equivalent to American "health food." Main ingredients are always as fresh as possible. For example, tanks keep fish, eels, lobsters and prawns alive until the moment of preparation. And menus include dishes with a balanced yin and yang, and ones that are either "cold" or "hot." Patrons may select meals based upon their particular daily needs.

My "Tonic Lunch" begins and ends with a thimble-size cup of bitter tea to aid digestion. In between I am served eight small courses thought to boost vitality and fortify the immune system. The meal includes a selection of appetizers anointed with a balance of hot and cold sauces, soup fortified with ginseng, fried squid accompanied by fresh lily and loofah, tofu and fungi, salt-baked chicken with sesame seeds, fried rice with shrimp and lotus leaves, and a dessert of red bean soup.

Slow-motion Exercise

The complement to Chinese food medicine is daily non-strenuous exercise. Many Hong Kongers show up in territory parks around dawn to participate in this communal activity.   

Early in the morning on a terrace overlooking the emerald green and dripping sanctuary of Hong Kong Park, I participate in a group led by a master of Qigong through a series of 800-year-old Chinese fitness exercises known as "Ba Duan Jin" – a cousin to tai chi. We move in a liquid slow motion from a position called "Both Hands Supporting the Sky" to one called "Drawing a Bow as If Shooting an Eagle." After the second run-through I start looking pretty good, moving gracefully through the eight exercises. The beauty of Ba Duan Jin is that the movements are easy to learn and are appropriate for all ages and both sexes.

If you are curious about Chinese medicine and the Eastern approach to health and fitness, visit Hong Kong. The dynamic city is one big classroom.

^{† Source: Li Cl. A brief outline of Chinese medical history with particular reference to acupuncture.
   Perspect Biol Med. 1974 Autumn;18(1):132-43}