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Chan Yin-chi, 77, lives alone in Kwai Hing. Every Tuesday, he visits the local community centre to dance with other elderly people. She is health conscious and brews her red dates tea every morning. The hot summer nights in Hong Kong though make it hard to sleep without an air conditioner, yet the damp cold air is a problem for Chan. “The cold wind from the air conditioning during the night makes my muscles and bones ache,” she said. “From here to here, there is pain in the whole body,” she said, pointing at her shoulders and legs.  Over the past two decades, the number of days when the temperature in Hong Kong was more than  33°C in a year has increased by 50%, according to the Hong Kong Observatory. Depending on how serious the greenhouse gas emissions are, the annual mean temperature of the city is expected to rise by as high as 1.7°C from 2041 to 2060. Joey Ho Wai-yan, a registered Chinese medicine practitioner in Hong Kong, explained that elderly folks are particularly vulnerable to the effects of high temperatures. Her clinic is often packed with people who suffered from heat stroke after staying outdoors for a long time .“Elderly people are physically weaker, have lower energy, poorer perspiration and they have difficulty adjusting to air conditioning, which affects the balance of their body temperature,” said Ho. “Even after seeking medical advice and taking antipyretic medication, the fever may still recur.”  Heat stroke is caused when the body temperature reaches 41°C or higher. Symptoms include dizziness, headache, nausea, shortness of breath and mental confusion, according to the Centre for Health Protection. Ho explained that climate change is making  Hong Kong becoming hotter and more humid from mid-spring to the end of summer. This makes it harder for …

Colourful soda cans shaped into lanterns that dangle from long pieces of wires is a type of traditional wind chime at the fishing village of Tai O. But when you walk around the many huts on stilts there these days, some of the chimes are rusted and broken because the owners have left for good. They were evacuated because flooding destroyed their homes. Tai O, is one of Hong Kong’s oldest fishing villages. It is in a low-lying area on the western coast of Lantau Island. This “Venice of Hong Kong” is threatened by inundation because of climate change.  Residents recalled their survival experience from two of the most devastating typhoons in Tai O: Typhoon Hato in 2017 and Typhoon Mangkhut in 2018.  In August 2017, Super Typhoon Hato smashed into Hong Kong with an estimated sustained wind speed of 185 kilometres per hour. The Hong Kong Observatory issued Hurricane Signal No.10, the strongest tropical storm warning signal possible here. It was the first No.10 in five years. Hato brought severe flooding and destruction in multiple coastal regions, including Tai O, Cheung Chau, Heng Fa Chuen, and Lei Yue Mun. In Tai O, the damage was the worst in nine years, according to the Observatory. When the government sounded the flood alert system, many residents there had to evacuate. The rising water approached faster than residents expected. Kenny Wong, a villager in Tai O, said they didn’t have time to prepare because the official forecast underestimated the typhoon’s impact. “The flood was up to my knees at home. Many of my furniture and electrical appliances were damaged during the storm surge,” Wong said.  He said Typhoon Mangkhut was even worse than Hato.  When Super Typhoon Mangkhut hit Hong Kong in September 2018, it brought the most severe wind strength recorded …

At the end of the narrow aisle crammed with household goods, an old air conditioner hums as it struggles to cool the flat where 11 residents live in eight tiny cells separated by makeshift wooden walls.  Around noon, Xia Renhui 52, who has been living in this subdivided flat in Tsuen Wan for five years, prepares his lunch in the shared kitchen. The thermometer hanging on the wall records a temperature of 37˚ C. The scalding water from the tap and the steam spurting out of the rice cooker make Xia feel smothered.   "The whole room feels like a smelting furnace. Every inch of my skin is burning," said Xia.  In Hong Kong, more than 214,000 people like Xia live in subdivided flats, according to government statistics, where increasing summer temperatures are made worse by cramped, unventilated construction and expensive air-conditioning bills. Globally, over the past few hundred years, greenhouse gases from industrialization have led to global warming and an increase in extreme climates, according to a United Nations report. Hong Kong keeps breaking its temperature records. Last year, Hong Kong residents survived the hottest July in the past 138 years, when record keeping began, breaking a previous record set in 2020. And a high temperature of 35°C or above was recorded for 10 consecutive days in July last year, topping the annual record, according to the Hong Kong Observatory. At least five cases of sudden death at work suspected to be related to heat stroke have been reported between June and July in 2022. Hot nights increase the risk of death by about 2% to 3%, while a prolonged period of five or more hot nights raises the risk to 6.66%. Women had a six percent higher risk of dying from hot weather, while older adults had a five …

Just a 25-minute walk from Kam Sheung Road station between Pat Hueng and Kam Tin in Hong Kong’s New Territories is Fruitful Organic Farm, a locally-owned farm that’s been operating for 12 years. Roughly 30 to 40 crops grow here, neatly aligned with small wooden labels: tomatoes, pak-choy and lettuce, to name a few.  But this farm doesn’t make money from its organic produce. Instead, its income comes from renting out plots of land to other farmers, a survival response to climate change. As temperatures rise, some of Hong Kong’s farms are turning to land rentals and severe weather planting techniques to keep their crops and livelihoods alive. Paul Kwok, 66, who has owned Fruitful Organic Farm for over a decade, said his farm started as an effort to give Hongkongers an opportunity to rely less on imports and to plant their own vegetables organically. But he stopped selling his own produce to hawkers last year. Kwok said this was due to the COVID-19 pandemic and rising temperatures affecting the yield and size of vegetables and fruits. “I believe that we have suffered at least a 30% loss in harvest yield since I first started farming,” he said. Currently, over 90% of Kwok’s land has been rented out. “Our income is even more stable with renting out land to people than it was with selling crops,” he added.  Neighboring farms, such as Go Green Farm, have also adopted a similar business model.  Hong Kong has consistently gotten hotter over the years. According to the Hong Kong Observatory, the region’s average increase in temperature per decade from 1993 to 2022 was 0.28 degrees celsius.  The Observatory also recorded that the annual number of very hot nights, classified as days with a maximum temperature of 33 degrees Celsius or above, has increased …

“HK$40 for a ticket! Don’t miss the chance to see the local pink dolphins here,” said Chow Tin-long on his boat, waving tickets in his hands. Chow has been running dolphin-watching activities in Tai O, a traditional fishing village on Lantau Island, for more than 15 years. . Chinese white dolphins,  commonly known as “pink dolphins”, have been a mascot of Hong Kong since 1977 and a common tourist activity in Tai O, said Chow. Chow, who works with three other fishermen, takes tourists out in his own boat for 20 minutes at a time to see the dolphins whose habitat is just off the coast.  However, the number of Chinese white dolphins in Hong Kong has plunged from 158 in 2003 to about 40 in 2022, according to the Agriculture, Fisheries, and Conservation Department. With the decreasing numbers of dolphins and tourists, Chow and other small business owners in Tai O who rely on dolphin tourism to make a living have started to adapt with new revenue streams. They also find themselves raising public awareness of the marine creatures’ plight caused by climate change, land reclamation and heavy ferry traffic. Chow said business has dropped from around 30 to 40 tourists a day to only five or 10. He is earning about 40% less than he did ten years ago, he said.  “More than half of them could see the dolphins previously, but it’s hard to estimate now,” Chow said.“It is a hard time for us who make a living with the dolphins as I sold two of my boats for money five years ago.” He tried to reduce the ticket’s price but it didn’t help. After years of loss, Chow started to adapt his business model. “I once opened a grilled fish restaurant before the COVID-19, which only …