The market is within walking distance, a few blocks away, from where my grandparents live in Causeway Bay. Past Times Square, through the dry market where they sold dehydrated goods such as mushrooms, herbs, even swallows nests (we spent little time there), and under a concrete overpass where artisans, bums, and voodoo women congregated waiting for customers willing to pay for revenge on someone who had done them wrong.
The market is contained within a couple streets, including a number of indoor stalls toward the back where they sell less popular items like frogs, eel, chickens, and lizards, all alive. They had flowers, fresh vegetables, fresh lychee, dragons eyes (longan), dragon fruit, fish of every color, freshly butchered meat (that I couldn't help wondering how fresh it really was), seafood I didn't recognize, fresh and dried noodles, chicken and duck eggs, and a surprising amount of produce from South America. Nearby were bakeries, soy milk cafés, and shops with roasted fowl in the window. The street is covered in water, an ode to its name, and the sounds of vendors and customers bartering and exchanging give the mechanical sounds of the city living energy.