To say that 2019 has gotten off to a great beginning would be a masterpiece of understatement. And to say that 2018 went out in a blaze of glory would similarly undermine the extreme heights reached at the tail end of the recently-vanished year. As I sit here typing this, getting ready to fly back to Hong Kong shortly after midnight, I can't help smiling at the string of memories that make up the past weeks. For as you probably remember, three of my good friends from England journeyed to the USA to spend the Christmas and New Year holidays with me and my family.
Sarah, David and Ally—who nearly saw their vacation cut off at the ankles by nettlesome drones hovering near the runway of Gatwick Airport—arrived to meet their eager tour guide at Kabooz's, a casual bar in New York's Pennsylvania Station on Friday evening, 21 December. They were originally supposed to land at 1pm, but the delay pushed things back until closer to 6pm. And in all honesty, this was a small blessing in disguise. It took every second I had to help my dad get everything ready for their arrival, festooning the house with Yuletide decorations and arranging the two guest rooms where my friends would be sleeping.
It also mercifully allocated several hours for normally-chaotic Penn Station to quiet down on one of the busiest travel days of the year. Nearly every Manhattan office worker living over in New Jersey has to pass through this charmless transit hub each day. And on the Friday leading up to Christmas, plenty of others—like those whose families live in the Garden State—would also be catching a train here. Mid-afternoon would have been the apex of the migration, but by 8pm, the flood had faded to a mere trickle.
I started reading a new book on the train in earlier that day, and I continued reading at Kabooz's while waiting for the gang to arrive. I had a few pints and was making a decent dent into the story. And then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. They had found me!
For the next two weeks—encompassing the end of 2018 into the first days of 2019—we simply had a blast. We went everywhere, did everything, ate everything we could possibly eat (and then some) and drank great cocktails and craft beers in some of my favorite bars on earth. Don't believe me? All right, then here's an instant replay of pretty much all that happened!
First things first: They all immediately sat down, and we grabbed a round of celebratory pints at my preferred spot while they told me all about their trip. And were soon Jersey bound.
Pizzas from our local favorite—formerly called Ciro's but recently rechristened Grana—were awaiting us at home, where my dad got a chance to meet Ally for the first time and get reacquainted with Sarah and David, both of whom he met in Hong Kong back in 2016.
A big day was planned for Saturday, and the gang was plumb wore out, so after a few Christmas beers from the fridge, everybody headed up to bed, where visions of sugar-plums danc'd in their heads.
That next morning, we had a leisurely start to an incredible day. My dad and I drove up to the local bagelry—Bagel Mania—and loaded up on the goods. I introduced my visitors to three indelible variations on the same theme: bacon, egg and cheese, sausage, egg and cheese and New Jersey-appropriate pork roll, egg and cheese bagel sandwiches. These amazing creations were to become a staple of our morning diets for the rest of the trip.
Eventually we did make our way back into Manhattan on the New Jersey Transit North Jersey Coast Line, for me, normally a painful link between home and the city. But to foreign visitors unaccustomed to the sight of suburban America, gazing out of the large picture windows for a little over an hour proved endlessly fascinating.
"I love that row of houses," Sarah might say. "Look at the mailboxes! Aren't they adorable?"
Added Ally, "The Christmas lights are amazing! We don't decorate our houses like that in the U.K."
And all three of them enjoyed endlessly repeating the names of the stops in their best American accents. I don't think I'll ever be able to ride that train again without hearing them saying, "Perth Amboy... Rahway... Aberdeen-Matawan..."
Of course, it was still incredible to arrive at Penn Station and dive into our madcap Manhattan adventures, but I can scarcely recall the journey flying by in a such a flurry of fascination.
Only a few minutes away from Penn is Macy's, the iconic department store, where we explored for nearly an hour. Although we didn't wait on line to visit Santa himself, we saw the Miracle on 34th Street display windows, perused the luxurious home goods and sifted through what must have been thousands of Christmas ornaments in the holiday section. Since this was the start of a very long—and potentially boozy day—and because we'd be passing through Penn Station several times before the end of the trip and because Macy's drastically slashes its prices post-Christmas, we opted to hold off on our actual purchases that day. But it was still a wonderful experience to behold the country's largest department store at the height of its Christmas ambiance.
Hot dogs and a giant pretzel in Herald Square followed, before we ventured up Fifth Avenue to New York's glorious public library. The noble stone lions even got in the holiday spirit with their giant wreath necklaces. And the hushed marble lobby, with an imposing tree, was truly impressive.
Upstairs, the library actually displays Charles Dickens' own personal copy of A Christmas Carol, including the handwritten notes inserted by the author in the margins to assist him during his many public readings of the perennial classic. What a treat!
Bryant Park sits just behind the library, and each year, a massive winter market is set up with countless stalls selling all manner of food and handicrafts. Santa was even here, posing for photos with kids from one to ninety-two. The line was noticeably short, so we hopped on the end of it, getting our obligatory shot with the man with the bag, all of us decked to the nines in holiday accessories.
"Anybody ready for a drink?" I asked imploringly as we passed through Times Square. "I have a favorite watering hole nearby."
The group seemed similarly keen for a bit of respite from the hectic streets, so we made a beeline for Sardi's, on West 44th Street. For those of you unfamiliar with the classic Theater District establishment, it's been around since the 1920s and is a popular haunt for actors and other creative types who appear on the nearby stages. And although the quality of its food is a matter of some debate, sipping a few cocktails under the gaze of thousands of celebrity caricatures is a New York experience that everybody should experience at least once.
We began our visit at the upstairs bar, where we had a round of—appropriately enough—Manhattans. But I was determined to continue our afternoon in the pint-sized Little Bar, which only opens after 4pm. By 4:03, we had commandeered four of the six bar stools and our second round was on the way. There was not a moment to spare. By 4:05, a couple of regulars arrived, taking the last two stools, and the next guests to enter at 4:06 had to settle for a table.
The Little Bar at Sardi's has got to be one of the most special spots in all of Manhattan. The Honeymooners quartet (Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows, Art Carney and Joyce Randolph) is given perpetual pride of place above the bar, and the place is jam-packed with a mix of theater-going regulars and a smattering of fortunate tourists.
We quickly struck up a spirited conversation with our fellow barstoolers, MJ and Dave, and it was such a pleasure talking with them. They told us about all the shows they had seen recently, and made several recommendations. David was craving a good burger before we caught the late performance of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Dave had just the spot for us, and even let us use his cell phone to make our dinner reservation at Nine Napkins.
Once conversation turned to our plans for the following day, involving an afternoon in Jersey City, MJ gushed ecstatically, "You have to go to Hudson Hall for lunch. One pretzel is big enough for the four of you to share. And literally everything on their menu is incredible."
They also promptly invited us to attend a jazz concert with them on the day after Christmas, and we exchanged contact details so we could keep in touch. But soon, we had to head out for dinner and our show.
Ever since I've been a little kid, I've just loved the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. We must have gone nearly every year when I was growing up, watching the Rockettes high-kick and the camels and donkeys parade across the stage during the Living Nativity. My personal favorite for as long as I can remember has been the Parade of the Wooden Soldiers. So when Sarah, David and Ally asked me what I'd put atop our "must do" New York Christmas list, this took first place.
Once a movie house, the Music Hall is now a venue for live shows, most famously the Spectacular we'd be taking in that night. Walking inside is like entering a bygone era, with every element showcasing the glamour of it all. Simply gazing upon the ornate lobby and cavernous auditorium are worth the price of admission alone, but once the show starts, everything kicks into high gear.
We secured a steal of a deal for phenomenal seats by attending the 10pm performance. The same spots earlier in the day were going for well over USD 300 each! Sure, we did have to high-tail it back to Penn Station afterwards to catch the last train, but it was a night to remember for sure.
Sunday was already the day before Christmas Eve! And we awoke with giggles at the amazingness of the previous day. We also began looking through one another's photographs, realizing that while Sarah, Ally and I were taking perfectly adequate shots, David seemed to be using superpowers to create magical works of art. Thus, we christened his Huawei "magic-cam" and usually insisted, after taking photos with our own devices, that we always get at least one with his. (Luckily, we already had a Whatsapp chat group that we soon started using the share our photos, so many of the snaps illustrating this post come to you courtesy of "magic-cam.")
Since we had spent the previous day in Manhattan, I wanted to take the opportunity to show off the Garden State to my visitors. Every time I go home, I make it a point to check the schedule at the Loew's Jersey, a drop-dead gorgeous 1920s movie palace in Journal Square, Jersey City, that has miraculously survived the wrecking ball and continues to show movies to this day. When I saw online that they were screening A Christmas Story while Sarah, David and Ally were in town, spending that day in Jersey City was the only option I seriously considered.
New Jersey Transit again whisked us north along the coast, but when we got to Newark Penn Station, we hopped off and switched to the PATH train across the platform, riding all the way to Grove Street. From there, we easily found our way to MJ and Dave's lunch recommendation, Hudson Hall. Let's just say, if you ever bump into these guys and they recommend anything—anything—just take their advice.
Hudson Hall was simply phenomenal. I'd seriously rank it as one of the best lunches I've ever had, and it was probably the culinary highlight of Sarah, David and Ally's visit, at least for me. We ordered the pretzel, as instructed, in addition to pastrami egg rolls, chicken wings, a half rack of Saint Louis ribs, pastrami cheese fries, and loaded potato skins. This was all washed down with several pitchers of local craft beers. The amount of food was almost comical; the gusto with which we consumed it was comical.
Hudson Hall smokes all their own meats in house, and the flavors and quality really shine through. And the large, convivial, cavernous room is a comfortable and friendly spot to while a day away.
When it came time to order dessert, we asked our waiter, Carl, if one of their special donut ice cream sandwiches would be big enough to share among the four of us. His answer? "Well for most people, it would be enough. But you guys eat like monsters." Thanks for your honesty, buddy!
Carl was initially shocked when we informed him that we intended to walk to Journal Square and asked if he could give us directions. When we reminded him how much food we had just eaten, he reconsidered. "Ah, that's right. Let me show you the way." He pulled out Google maps on his phone, and off we went.
It was actually quite a lovely jaunt through Jersey City. We passed schools, courthouses, shops and restaurants, eventually finding ourselves in front of the cinema in Journal Square. It had been a beautifully sunny day, but luckily, the winter sun was starting to set as we bought our tickets, so we didn't feel too sad about heading indoors.
The lobby of the Jersey is stunning, with its massive chandeliers, ornate balustrades and rich carpeting. An intriguing display case highlights all manner of artifacts that were found when the theater was renovated. It takes only a little bit of imagination to envision it full of patrons during Hollywood's golden age.
Before the movie started, a group of volunteers were putting on a stage show, singing Christmas carols, playing the massive pipe organ, coordinating a sing-a-long with the audience and even—in a slightly bizarre but entertaining stretch—performing an interpretive dance to Walking in the Air from The Snowman.
We loaded up on popcorn, soda and Raisinets during a brief intermission before the film started, and then we were treated to one of the best Christmas movies ever made, in the most magical setting imaginable. I'll never forget the experience.
At home that night, we watched Miracle on 34th Street and had some unnecessary leftovers, prepared by my father. Surprisingly—or, perhaps, unsurprisingly—we cleaned the plates of all edible elements, strictly unnecessary after the lunch we'd had, but delicious nonetheless.
Normally my family spends Christmas Eve at my cousin Michael's house on Staten Island. Sadly, Michael's wife Vanna, the master chef of that side of the family, was not feeling very well in the lead-up to the holidays, and having extra guests at their home was not going to be possible. Because of this, my dad had the brilliant suggestion to cook a traditional British Christmas dinner for us all. Since we'd be in Brooklyn the next day for a typically Italian-American celebration, this would give Sarah, David and Ally a slice of home as part of their holiday.
After visiting the Stop 'n Shop to stock up on the goods—and a liquor store to stock up on more potent goods—we had breakfast at cozy Evan's, a Greek diner around the corner from our house. I don't always find the time to squeeze a visit to Evan's into my hometown returns, but I am sure going to try harder moving forward! Everything was delicious!
We then took the afternoon to explore Cheesequake State Park, the lovely green wooded area less than five minutes away. Opened way back in 1940 as one of the country's first state parks, Cheesequake is a little gem, and a place I've enjoyed no matter the season for as long as I can remember.
The gang, especially Sarah, just seemed to love the place. The woods, the lake, the marshes, the pine lanes. It was so darn delightful to wander around. And after the breakfast we'd had, a good long walk was in order, so much so that we even ventured all the way back home on foot.
Of course, my dad's dinner was sensational. And while he was preparing it, Sarah mulled some wine. My sister, her boyfriend Phil and their dog Roxy even came over to exchange gifts that evening, adding an extra special element to the night. And after finishing the meal, Sarah, David, Ally and I filled our red Solo cups and went for a stroll around the neighborhood.
On Christmas Eve, it's traditional in our community to line the streets with small candles inside white paper bags filled with sand. We call these luminaries, and once lit after dusk, the white paper takes on an orange-golden hue from the flame of the candle within. If everybody participates in the tradition, the sight is truly beautiful, the entirety of the streets lined in unbroken chains of luminaries.
Of course, thinking we'd be at my cousin's house on Staten Island, my dad didn't actually order luminaries this year, so our house wound up being one of the only ones around not contributing to the bewitching sight. Nevertheless, Sarah, David, Ally and I all enjoyed our leisurely saunter, pointing out our favorite decorations and lighting displays.
Like that, it was Christmas Day. We exchanged gifts and went to church in Lawrence Harbor, briefly stopping on the boardwalk before mass to look across the water to Brooklyn and Manhattan. Ally cooked breakfast back at the house, and then we drove to my cousin Victoria's house in Dyker Heights for a good, old-fashioned, Parisi family Christmas celebration.
My family is loud, my family is crazy, my family is... er... wonderful. I love Christmas when I'm lucky enough to come home for it. There's a lot of screaming and shouting, kids running all over the place, wrapping paper flying, people talking over one another to be heard. Delicious food. Appetizers spread across a table that could feed you for a week before you even approach the dining room table. Vicki's famous bacon-wrapped dates. Bread stuffed with eggplant, or proscuiotto, or cheese. Or all three. The main feast of your dreams, with homemade lasagne and Caesar salad and pork. Desserts to die for. Freshly baked cookies and brownies and pies and cakes... So it was super, extra special not only to be with my dad, sister, aunt, uncle and cousins, but to share this very personal experience with Sarah, David and Ally.
The area around the house is also the epicenter of Dyker Lights, a gaudy, ostentatious collection of houses that give new meaning to the expression over the top. We walked around viewing the crazy decorations for around half an hour. The crowds were out en masse, but there's nothing quite like it. And my cousin Chris, who literally lives on one of the most crowded of all the Dyker Lights streets, just bought his kids a new golden retriever puppy for Christmas, so we got to pop in and say hello to adorable Jax.
Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, is largely un-celebrated here in the United States, but as you may know, it's an integral part of the holiday season over in the United Kingdom. (And, by extension, Hong Kong, where Sarah, Ally and I have all spent Christmas.) So I wanted to make sure we marked the day in a noteworthy way.
When we all finally woke up, the group decided bagel sandwiches were in order, having enjoyed them so much a few days before. My dad drove us to Bagel Mania, but we told him we'd be happy to walk back, as it's literally about seven or eight minutes from the house on foot. We also told him we might stop for a drink at the bar a few doors away before coming home.
Needless to say, the sandwiches were out of this world. And I take my bagels seriously. True, Bagel Mania is the closest bagelry to the house and has very friendly staff. But even if it were farther away with grumpy, nasty workers, I'd still make the effort to visit every time I come home. It's simply one of the best bagel shops I know. And that's saying something. Upon learning three of their guests that day were foreigners, the staff even offered us all free baklava for dessert after we had finished our sandwiches.
My British friends often mention that taking a walk to the local pub for a few pints is a firm Boxing Day tradition. Well, the only thing even remotely resembling a pub that is walking distance from my house is Townsquare Liquor and Bar, a neighborhood watering hole attached to a local bottle shop. And, as luck would have it, it's literally in the same strip mall as Bagel Mania, so it made things easy.
Upon entering, we asked if the bar was serving. "Not yet, but Denise can open it for you," the owner informed us. For the next hour or so, we had one of the most entertaining conversations with a bartender I've ever had. Denise was full of stories and fun facts, and she's one of the most colorful characters I've met in Middlesex County. One pint each turned into three, while David and Sarah shot pool and I selected songs from the juke box. By the time we got back to the house, we had plenty of stories to pass on to the old man.
We also watched Home Alone in the living room, which has unofficially become my Boxing Day movie of choice. Christmas Day can be loud, chaotic and full of movement. What I love about Boxing Day is that it gives us all an equally Christmassy opportunity to wind down. The lights are still on the tree, it remains perfectly acceptable to listen to Christmas tunes, the leftovers from the day before might be even more delicious. But it's so much more relaxing! This was a perfect Boxing Day.
I started reading a new book on the train in earlier that day, and I continued reading at Kabooz's while waiting for the gang to arrive. I had a few pints and was making a decent dent into the story. And then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. They had found me!
For the next two weeks—encompassing the end of 2018 into the first days of 2019—we simply had a blast. We went everywhere, did everything, ate everything we could possibly eat (and then some) and drank great cocktails and craft beers in some of my favorite bars on earth. Don't believe me? All right, then here's an instant replay of pretty much all that happened!
First things first: They all immediately sat down, and we grabbed a round of celebratory pints at my preferred spot while they told me all about their trip. And were soon Jersey bound.
Pizzas from our local favorite—formerly called Ciro's but recently rechristened Grana—were awaiting us at home, where my dad got a chance to meet Ally for the first time and get reacquainted with Sarah and David, both of whom he met in Hong Kong back in 2016.
A big day was planned for Saturday, and the gang was plumb wore out, so after a few Christmas beers from the fridge, everybody headed up to bed, where visions of sugar-plums danc'd in their heads.
That next morning, we had a leisurely start to an incredible day. My dad and I drove up to the local bagelry—Bagel Mania—and loaded up on the goods. I introduced my visitors to three indelible variations on the same theme: bacon, egg and cheese, sausage, egg and cheese and New Jersey-appropriate pork roll, egg and cheese bagel sandwiches. These amazing creations were to become a staple of our morning diets for the rest of the trip.
Eventually we did make our way back into Manhattan on the New Jersey Transit North Jersey Coast Line, for me, normally a painful link between home and the city. But to foreign visitors unaccustomed to the sight of suburban America, gazing out of the large picture windows for a little over an hour proved endlessly fascinating.
"I love that row of houses," Sarah might say. "Look at the mailboxes! Aren't they adorable?"
Added Ally, "The Christmas lights are amazing! We don't decorate our houses like that in the U.K."
And all three of them enjoyed endlessly repeating the names of the stops in their best American accents. I don't think I'll ever be able to ride that train again without hearing them saying, "Perth Amboy... Rahway... Aberdeen-Matawan..."
Of course, it was still incredible to arrive at Penn Station and dive into our madcap Manhattan adventures, but I can scarcely recall the journey flying by in a such a flurry of fascination.
Only a few minutes away from Penn is Macy's, the iconic department store, where we explored for nearly an hour. Although we didn't wait on line to visit Santa himself, we saw the Miracle on 34th Street display windows, perused the luxurious home goods and sifted through what must have been thousands of Christmas ornaments in the holiday section. Since this was the start of a very long—and potentially boozy day—and because we'd be passing through Penn Station several times before the end of the trip and because Macy's drastically slashes its prices post-Christmas, we opted to hold off on our actual purchases that day. But it was still a wonderful experience to behold the country's largest department store at the height of its Christmas ambiance.
Hot dogs and a giant pretzel in Herald Square followed, before we ventured up Fifth Avenue to New York's glorious public library. The noble stone lions even got in the holiday spirit with their giant wreath necklaces. And the hushed marble lobby, with an imposing tree, was truly impressive.
Bryant Park sits just behind the library, and each year, a massive winter market is set up with countless stalls selling all manner of food and handicrafts. Santa was even here, posing for photos with kids from one to ninety-two. The line was noticeably short, so we hopped on the end of it, getting our obligatory shot with the man with the bag, all of us decked to the nines in holiday accessories.
"Anybody ready for a drink?" I asked imploringly as we passed through Times Square. "I have a favorite watering hole nearby."
The group seemed similarly keen for a bit of respite from the hectic streets, so we made a beeline for Sardi's, on West 44th Street. For those of you unfamiliar with the classic Theater District establishment, it's been around since the 1920s and is a popular haunt for actors and other creative types who appear on the nearby stages. And although the quality of its food is a matter of some debate, sipping a few cocktails under the gaze of thousands of celebrity caricatures is a New York experience that everybody should experience at least once.
We began our visit at the upstairs bar, where we had a round of—appropriately enough—Manhattans. But I was determined to continue our afternoon in the pint-sized Little Bar, which only opens after 4pm. By 4:03, we had commandeered four of the six bar stools and our second round was on the way. There was not a moment to spare. By 4:05, a couple of regulars arrived, taking the last two stools, and the next guests to enter at 4:06 had to settle for a table.
The Little Bar at Sardi's has got to be one of the most special spots in all of Manhattan. The Honeymooners quartet (Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows, Art Carney and Joyce Randolph) is given perpetual pride of place above the bar, and the place is jam-packed with a mix of theater-going regulars and a smattering of fortunate tourists.
We quickly struck up a spirited conversation with our fellow barstoolers, MJ and Dave, and it was such a pleasure talking with them. They told us about all the shows they had seen recently, and made several recommendations. David was craving a good burger before we caught the late performance of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Dave had just the spot for us, and even let us use his cell phone to make our dinner reservation at Nine Napkins.
Once conversation turned to our plans for the following day, involving an afternoon in Jersey City, MJ gushed ecstatically, "You have to go to Hudson Hall for lunch. One pretzel is big enough for the four of you to share. And literally everything on their menu is incredible."
They also promptly invited us to attend a jazz concert with them on the day after Christmas, and we exchanged contact details so we could keep in touch. But soon, we had to head out for dinner and our show.
Ever since I've been a little kid, I've just loved the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. We must have gone nearly every year when I was growing up, watching the Rockettes high-kick and the camels and donkeys parade across the stage during the Living Nativity. My personal favorite for as long as I can remember has been the Parade of the Wooden Soldiers. So when Sarah, David and Ally asked me what I'd put atop our "must do" New York Christmas list, this took first place.
Once a movie house, the Music Hall is now a venue for live shows, most famously the Spectacular we'd be taking in that night. Walking inside is like entering a bygone era, with every element showcasing the glamour of it all. Simply gazing upon the ornate lobby and cavernous auditorium are worth the price of admission alone, but once the show starts, everything kicks into high gear.
We secured a steal of a deal for phenomenal seats by attending the 10pm performance. The same spots earlier in the day were going for well over USD 300 each! Sure, we did have to high-tail it back to Penn Station afterwards to catch the last train, but it was a night to remember for sure.
Sunday was already the day before Christmas Eve! And we awoke with giggles at the amazingness of the previous day. We also began looking through one another's photographs, realizing that while Sarah, Ally and I were taking perfectly adequate shots, David seemed to be using superpowers to create magical works of art. Thus, we christened his Huawei "magic-cam" and usually insisted, after taking photos with our own devices, that we always get at least one with his. (Luckily, we already had a Whatsapp chat group that we soon started using the share our photos, so many of the snaps illustrating this post come to you courtesy of "magic-cam.")
Since we had spent the previous day in Manhattan, I wanted to take the opportunity to show off the Garden State to my visitors. Every time I go home, I make it a point to check the schedule at the Loew's Jersey, a drop-dead gorgeous 1920s movie palace in Journal Square, Jersey City, that has miraculously survived the wrecking ball and continues to show movies to this day. When I saw online that they were screening A Christmas Story while Sarah, David and Ally were in town, spending that day in Jersey City was the only option I seriously considered.
New Jersey Transit again whisked us north along the coast, but when we got to Newark Penn Station, we hopped off and switched to the PATH train across the platform, riding all the way to Grove Street. From there, we easily found our way to MJ and Dave's lunch recommendation, Hudson Hall. Let's just say, if you ever bump into these guys and they recommend anything—anything—just take their advice.
Hudson Hall smokes all their own meats in house, and the flavors and quality really shine through. And the large, convivial, cavernous room is a comfortable and friendly spot to while a day away.
When it came time to order dessert, we asked our waiter, Carl, if one of their special donut ice cream sandwiches would be big enough to share among the four of us. His answer? "Well for most people, it would be enough. But you guys eat like monsters." Thanks for your honesty, buddy!
Carl was initially shocked when we informed him that we intended to walk to Journal Square and asked if he could give us directions. When we reminded him how much food we had just eaten, he reconsidered. "Ah, that's right. Let me show you the way." He pulled out Google maps on his phone, and off we went.
It was actually quite a lovely jaunt through Jersey City. We passed schools, courthouses, shops and restaurants, eventually finding ourselves in front of the cinema in Journal Square. It had been a beautifully sunny day, but luckily, the winter sun was starting to set as we bought our tickets, so we didn't feel too sad about heading indoors.
The lobby of the Jersey is stunning, with its massive chandeliers, ornate balustrades and rich carpeting. An intriguing display case highlights all manner of artifacts that were found when the theater was renovated. It takes only a little bit of imagination to envision it full of patrons during Hollywood's golden age.
Before the movie started, a group of volunteers were putting on a stage show, singing Christmas carols, playing the massive pipe organ, coordinating a sing-a-long with the audience and even—in a slightly bizarre but entertaining stretch—performing an interpretive dance to Walking in the Air from The Snowman.
We loaded up on popcorn, soda and Raisinets during a brief intermission before the film started, and then we were treated to one of the best Christmas movies ever made, in the most magical setting imaginable. I'll never forget the experience.
At home that night, we watched Miracle on 34th Street and had some unnecessary leftovers, prepared by my father. Surprisingly—or, perhaps, unsurprisingly—we cleaned the plates of all edible elements, strictly unnecessary after the lunch we'd had, but delicious nonetheless.
Normally my family spends Christmas Eve at my cousin Michael's house on Staten Island. Sadly, Michael's wife Vanna, the master chef of that side of the family, was not feeling very well in the lead-up to the holidays, and having extra guests at their home was not going to be possible. Because of this, my dad had the brilliant suggestion to cook a traditional British Christmas dinner for us all. Since we'd be in Brooklyn the next day for a typically Italian-American celebration, this would give Sarah, David and Ally a slice of home as part of their holiday.
After visiting the Stop 'n Shop to stock up on the goods—and a liquor store to stock up on more potent goods—we had breakfast at cozy Evan's, a Greek diner around the corner from our house. I don't always find the time to squeeze a visit to Evan's into my hometown returns, but I am sure going to try harder moving forward! Everything was delicious!
We then took the afternoon to explore Cheesequake State Park, the lovely green wooded area less than five minutes away. Opened way back in 1940 as one of the country's first state parks, Cheesequake is a little gem, and a place I've enjoyed no matter the season for as long as I can remember.
The gang, especially Sarah, just seemed to love the place. The woods, the lake, the marshes, the pine lanes. It was so darn delightful to wander around. And after the breakfast we'd had, a good long walk was in order, so much so that we even ventured all the way back home on foot.
Of course, my dad's dinner was sensational. And while he was preparing it, Sarah mulled some wine. My sister, her boyfriend Phil and their dog Roxy even came over to exchange gifts that evening, adding an extra special element to the night. And after finishing the meal, Sarah, David, Ally and I filled our red Solo cups and went for a stroll around the neighborhood.
On Christmas Eve, it's traditional in our community to line the streets with small candles inside white paper bags filled with sand. We call these luminaries, and once lit after dusk, the white paper takes on an orange-golden hue from the flame of the candle within. If everybody participates in the tradition, the sight is truly beautiful, the entirety of the streets lined in unbroken chains of luminaries.
Of course, thinking we'd be at my cousin's house on Staten Island, my dad didn't actually order luminaries this year, so our house wound up being one of the only ones around not contributing to the bewitching sight. Nevertheless, Sarah, David, Ally and I all enjoyed our leisurely saunter, pointing out our favorite decorations and lighting displays.
Like that, it was Christmas Day. We exchanged gifts and went to church in Lawrence Harbor, briefly stopping on the boardwalk before mass to look across the water to Brooklyn and Manhattan. Ally cooked breakfast back at the house, and then we drove to my cousin Victoria's house in Dyker Heights for a good, old-fashioned, Parisi family Christmas celebration.
My family is loud, my family is crazy, my family is... er... wonderful. I love Christmas when I'm lucky enough to come home for it. There's a lot of screaming and shouting, kids running all over the place, wrapping paper flying, people talking over one another to be heard. Delicious food. Appetizers spread across a table that could feed you for a week before you even approach the dining room table. Vicki's famous bacon-wrapped dates. Bread stuffed with eggplant, or proscuiotto, or cheese. Or all three. The main feast of your dreams, with homemade lasagne and Caesar salad and pork. Desserts to die for. Freshly baked cookies and brownies and pies and cakes... So it was super, extra special not only to be with my dad, sister, aunt, uncle and cousins, but to share this very personal experience with Sarah, David and Ally.
The area around the house is also the epicenter of Dyker Lights, a gaudy, ostentatious collection of houses that give new meaning to the expression over the top. We walked around viewing the crazy decorations for around half an hour. The crowds were out en masse, but there's nothing quite like it. And my cousin Chris, who literally lives on one of the most crowded of all the Dyker Lights streets, just bought his kids a new golden retriever puppy for Christmas, so we got to pop in and say hello to adorable Jax.
Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, is largely un-celebrated here in the United States, but as you may know, it's an integral part of the holiday season over in the United Kingdom. (And, by extension, Hong Kong, where Sarah, Ally and I have all spent Christmas.) So I wanted to make sure we marked the day in a noteworthy way.
When we all finally woke up, the group decided bagel sandwiches were in order, having enjoyed them so much a few days before. My dad drove us to Bagel Mania, but we told him we'd be happy to walk back, as it's literally about seven or eight minutes from the house on foot. We also told him we might stop for a drink at the bar a few doors away before coming home.
Needless to say, the sandwiches were out of this world. And I take my bagels seriously. True, Bagel Mania is the closest bagelry to the house and has very friendly staff. But even if it were farther away with grumpy, nasty workers, I'd still make the effort to visit every time I come home. It's simply one of the best bagel shops I know. And that's saying something. Upon learning three of their guests that day were foreigners, the staff even offered us all free baklava for dessert after we had finished our sandwiches.
My British friends often mention that taking a walk to the local pub for a few pints is a firm Boxing Day tradition. Well, the only thing even remotely resembling a pub that is walking distance from my house is Townsquare Liquor and Bar, a neighborhood watering hole attached to a local bottle shop. And, as luck would have it, it's literally in the same strip mall as Bagel Mania, so it made things easy.
Upon entering, we asked if the bar was serving. "Not yet, but Denise can open it for you," the owner informed us. For the next hour or so, we had one of the most entertaining conversations with a bartender I've ever had. Denise was full of stories and fun facts, and she's one of the most colorful characters I've met in Middlesex County. One pint each turned into three, while David and Sarah shot pool and I selected songs from the juke box. By the time we got back to the house, we had plenty of stories to pass on to the old man.
We also watched Home Alone in the living room, which has unofficially become my Boxing Day movie of choice. Christmas Day can be loud, chaotic and full of movement. What I love about Boxing Day is that it gives us all an equally Christmassy opportunity to wind down. The lights are still on the tree, it remains perfectly acceptable to listen to Christmas tunes, the leftovers from the day before might be even more delicious. But it's so much more relaxing! This was a perfect Boxing Day.
We capped it off with dinner at Ganga, a stellar pan-Asian bistro-cum-sushi bar on Route 34 in Matawan. Although I live in a major Asian metropolis with fantastic local restaurants, I rarely fail to return to Ganga on any given trip home. It's the only Asian restaurant I can say that about. But the quality of the ingredients, the creativity of the combinations and the chic presentation of the dishes makes for a memorable feast each and every time. And I'm so glad I got to share this place with Sarah, David and Ally.
Bright and early Thursday morning, it was clear it was turning out to be an utterly gorgeous, practically springtime, day. I made the executive decision that we'd be spending the day on the beach, debating between Point Pleasant and Asbury Park. With a little encouragement from my sister, I ultimately selected Asbury, and it is not an understatement to say it was one of my best decisions in recent memory. In fact, it might have been my favorite day of all.
The Jersey Shore has always been a place I've loved very much. Of course, even I must admit that not every single town along its one hundred and forty mile stretch is a sterling example of a northeast beach town. That being said, I am firm in my belief that its best spots are among the very best anywhere.
And charming Asbury is certainly one of them. From the art deco waterfront buildings to its trendy bars and restaurants to world-famous icons like Tillie and the Stone Pony, it represents the Jersey Shore at its finest, even in the middle of winter.
We met many friendly people, and they all steered us well, especially Nerissa, the chatty bartender who served us at the Robinson Ale House, on the boardwalk, where we had popped in for a round of drinks but wound up lingering for ages.
On her advice, we stopped by the German-inspired Festhalle and Biergarten, with dark woods, long communal benches, and huge tankards of ale! Of course, we had a tasty pretzel, too, before making our way to the local Asbury Park Distillery, where we had some amazing gin-based cocktails a few feet away from where the stuff was made!
Nerissa also recommended the Mexican restaurant where we wound up having an incredible dinner that night, Barrio Costero, en route back to the train station. This is the kind of place where your margarita comes with a choice of four different salt rims, and the same attention to detail was placed on the food. It capped off an all-out incredible visit.
As much fun as I was having showing off New Jersey to my visitors, I knew they wanted some more time in Manhattan, so I enlisted my favorite knickerbocker, Heidi, to graciously host us for a night, allowing us to maximize our time in the city. After a pit stop at Macy's—since it was now an appropriate opportunity to load up on a few Christmas ornaments so the gang can always remember their East Coast Yuletide extravaganza—we headed to her lovely apartment on the Upper West Side.
But the weather was far from lovely... Still, it's not usually difficult to amuse yourself indoors in New York, so I had a plan to combat the precipitation. My idea was to take advantage of the Target Free Friday Night at the Museum of Modern Art. But unfortunately, it seemed the whole population of the five boroughs had the same idea.
The MoMA was just too packed to enjoy that evening, so we didn't wind up staying very long, and instead opted to meet up with my friends Jackie and Ivan for a highbrow round of cocktails and a lowbrow dinner of macaroni and cheese, the American classic I had a feeling my guests would love. We even capped things off at McSorley's, purported to be New York's oldest operating bar.
It was nice to spend the rest of Friday night at Heidi's, complementing our evening with a few episodes of Friends, as the rain fell outside and we didn't feel even the tiniest bit guilty about not having a huge night on the town.
But, truth be told, I was very excited for what Saturday had in store! Owing to the wild success of our Asbury Park sojourn, I had convinced my sister Danielle and her boyfriend Phil to chauffeur us around some more of my favorite Jersey Shore haunts. I was especially excited to show off the Navesink Twin Lights and Sandy Hook.
Danii and Phil picked us up as our New Jersey Transit train pulled into Matawan Station. And although we were a bit cramped, all piled in the car like clowns, it was a blast!
The crisp, cool air at the base of the Twin Lights was wonderful, with a lovely vista across the clear, calm sea to faraway Manhattan. It just hit closing time as we drove up, so we were unable to actually scale the north tower. But it hardly mattered. It was still a perfect little visit, encircling the majestic structure and admiring the view.
But it was when we got to Officer's Row on Sandy Hook, with the most stunning sunset, that magic began appearing everywhere. The lot of us just couldn't stop gasping at the beauty of the hour, as we all continually snapped about a thousand photographs. And I'd submit any one of them as proof positive that Sandy Hook is another one of the Jersey Shore's true gems.
Phil suggested a stop in Atlantic Highlands afterwards at the Carton Brewing Company, which was a brilliant idea. So many Brits have this absurd idea that Bud Light is America's singular contribution to the world of beer. And, of course, in reality, some of the most exciting developments in the industry these days are taking place in tiny microbreweries all across the country.
So to pay a visit to the friendly folks at Carton, to learn about their history and inspiration, and, most memorably, to taste multiple samples of their stock, was about as enjoyable an education as we could have given the gang. And nobody walked out thirsty or disappointed!
The grand ambition for the evening was a night on the town in Red Bank, but a quick stop at Danii and Phil's apartment lead to some football viewing. Mix in their ever-friendly pooch, Roxxi, and the comfort of their couch, and I began to get the feeling we wouldn't be venturing much further than their front door.
Before long, we all agreed that it might actually be nicer to just relax in the comfy living room, and Phil ordered a bunch of chicken wings and sodas, as the night just disappeared, all of us chatting and laughing together. It's funny, but when I planned the itinerary, I envisioned having to fill every moment with major attractions and top restaurants. But in the end, Sarah, Ally and David kept saying this had been one of their favorite nights. It just goes to show you, sometimes giving overseas visitors a little taste of local life can be more interesting than all the famous attractions.
I was very excited for Sunday, the day before New Year's Eve, because I had hatched a plan for another grand New Jersey divertissement. Truth be told, it always pains me a little bit to know that the outside world's impression of my home state is not always a high one. But the positive impression it had clearly made on my visitors up to this point encouraged me to further showcase its glories.
Danii let us borrow her car for the day, and we kicked things off at the Broad Street Diner in nearby Keyport. There was no way I was letting these guys get out of the region without a proper breakfast experience at one of our famous greasy spoons. And, let's just say, NJ.com knew what they were talking about when they voted the Broad Street the best diner in the state.
We then drove down to Princeton, the historic university town that even briefly served as the capital of the young United States back in 1783. Walking the grounds of the legendary campus, popping into their masterpiece-studded free art museum, and sampling the world's most creative ice cream flavors at the Bent Spoon are all must-dos on a visit here.
I also insisted on a round of drinks at the Yankee Doodle Tap Room at the Nassau Inn, where we even had the good fortune to be seated at Albert Einstein's table! I just love the tavern vibes on offer in this place. You can feel the weight of history on your shoulders, what with the photographs of Princeton's luminaries lining its walls and the thousands of names and initials carved into the booth's tabletops. Not to mention Norman Rockwell's incredible mural. Some doubt that Dr. Einstein is personally responsible for his inscription, but it's much more fun to accept its authenticity.
As a last official Princeton act, I navigated the town's streets to Albemarle, a grandiose mansion just off Province Line and Rosedale Roads. Previously home to the American Boychoir School, the property once belonged to Gerard B. Lambert, whose brilliant marketing strategy turned Listerine—which his father had purchased from its inventor—from an obscure antiseptic into a must-have mouthwash.
It was a full day, and we had certainly earned a hearty dinner, so this was the night I finally worked in a visit to Big Ed's. My mom and I used to visit Big Ed's pretty regularly, but my dad and sister aren't big fans, so I can never convince them to join me on my trips home. Since it's not really the kind of place you want to dine solo, one of my top priorities of Sarah, Ally and David's trip was to ensure a feast here.
David's specialty is Jamaican jerk chicken. So we procured the necessary ingredients during another trip to Stop 'n Shop, and even found the time to slip in an afternoon break at my favorite Italian pizzeria, the one my dad had ordered the pies from that very first night. As I mentioned, the place was previously known as Ciro's, but it's now called Grana's. Mercifully, there have been no perceptible changes in the recipes or setting, and, so for all intents and purposes, this place is still Ciro's at its heart.
Remembering our glorious Boxing Day at the local dive, we stopped in en route back to the house, but Denise wasn't working that afternoon, so our round of drinks was far less memorable. I've always said, the bartender is perhaps the most essential ingredient to a watering hole's appeal. With Denise, this place had provided us with one of our best stretches of hours. Without her, we felt no reason to stick around after our glasses were dry.
Dinner was a rousing success, and—sipping champagne—we flipped channels between all the major networks as midnight drew near, based on the musical act performing on each one. Of course, inevitably, the countdown came and went. 2018, history. 2019, here. Diana Ross performed If We Hold On Together and we all toasted to a successful party. It was no crazy, drunken extravaganza, but it was pretty perfect. With my dad and my friends in the house, rain falling outside, a nourishing feast and plentiful bubbles. Happy New Year!
After bidding farewell to my old man that next morning, our crew headed to Matawan Station for one last New Jersey Transit commute into Manhattan. A quick coffee stop within Penn, and we were on the subway to Williamsburg, where we promptly found and checked into our convenient AirBnB, where we'd be spending the next three evenings.
But we didn't have long to linger. I really wanted to show off Coney Island to my visitors, and, as you may know, New Year's is one of its red-letter days, so this was the obvious opportunity to slip it in. So, shortly after dropping our bags, we were back on the subway again for the long ride to the beach.
It was almost disappointing how beautiful the weather was. I can't believe I actually wrote that sentence, but it's shockingly true. You see, the main event on the beach every January 1st is the Polar Bear Plunge. Thousands of nutty New Yorkers go swimming in the ocean to mark the start of the new year. Normally, with icy conditions and sometimes even snowflakes, it's a surreal spectacle.
Instead, that day was gloriously sunny. I mean, I probably wouldn't have actually jumped in the surf myself, but it seemed perfectly natural to be relaxing on the sand. So a little bit of the novelty factor was missing.
Luckily, Coney is still an atmospheric place no matter what. We stopped at Williams Candy to load up on confectionery and Nathan's for hot dogs, of course, and strolled along the iconic boardwalk, with fabulous views of the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel against the beautiful blue sky.
We even ducked into the Side Show, with its intriguing assortment of performers, who mingled with the audience at the neighboring Freak Bar after the conclusion of the performance. I've never had a bad day at Coney Island, and there's something incredibly special to me about kicking off the new year here. So, though I hope the weather is more wintry on my next January visit, I will always remember the first day of 2019!
The trip was just disappearing at this point, now Wednesday. The gang was flying out mid-afternoon on Friday, so we really had to squeeze a lot in over the coming days. And so early that morning, we left the apartment and set out to cross the nearby Williamsburg Bridge on foot, which provided expectedly wonderful views over the East River and Manhattan.
After wandering about Little Italy (and spotting the Parisi Bakery!) we honed in on Chinatown for our lunch venue. We had all agreed early on in the trip that a typical Asian meal was compulsory, owing to our shared history in the Orient. And since our dinner at Ganga was more along the lines of contemporary, innovative cuisine, this seemed like a perfect chance to order the classics!
My parents' favorite Chinatown eatery was always Hop Kee on Mott Street, so down we went, where a veritable feast awaited us, complete with plentiful Tsing Tao. It might seem silly, a Hong Kong resident who'd be flying back in but a few days indulging in a meal of this sort. But, let me assure you, I don't regret it for a second.
Post-lunch, we paid our respects at the World Trade Center memorial and also took a ride up to the observation deck atop the Freedom Tower, where unparalleled views await in literally every direction.
It's a great way to point out various areas, so new arrivals can get an easy understanding of the geography of the region. They say you can sometimes see three different states from this vantage point, and I made sure my visitors gained a good understanding of the city.
Then it was ferry time! Staten Island Ferry time!
I'd been able to point out Lady Liberty at multiple points over the past week plus, from the Verazzano as we cruised to Brooklyn on Christmas Day, and even from the observation deck an hour earlier. But to sail by the iconic statue on the ferry is the stuff of legend. And no New York itinerary can exist without at least a quick fly-by.
When I was a kid, you used to be allowed to stay put on your boat after it arrived in Saint George, immediately returning to South Ferry on the same vessel. I guess a lot of business owners in Staten Island thought this was a pretty crumby arrangement, since scores of big-spending tourists were literally minutes away from their establishments, yet never took the time to explore. Thus, nowadays, everybody must disembark in Staten Island and re-board if you wish to return. There is not enough time for you to get back on the boat on which you'd just arrived, so your choice is to sit in the waiting room or venture slightly further a field, where a row of pizza parlors and beer bars await.
Well, in case you couldn't guess, we did not opt to sit in the charmless waiting room. Pizza and beer, it is! In fact, the view was so pretty from one bar that we actually lingered even longer, waiting for a later boat while we drank in the scene.
In a perfect world, I actually wanted to spend time in all five boroughs, and, although Staten Island is probably the least beloved, there are some beautiful places to visit, indeed. But, at least on this introductory trip, I had to herd my flock back onto one of those bright orange ferries and return to Manhattan.
See ya next time, Staten Island!
Within an easy walk from the ferry slips in Lower Manhattan is one of my all-time favorite bars. Before I moved to Hong Kong, I used to think it was the watering hole where I'd easily spent the great amount of time and money, since I was a regular habitue whose office was just around the corner. Now, no trip home is complete without at least one stop at Trinity Place. So, inevitably, we popped in.
I've probably written about it before, because the place was so formative for me. There was a time when I knew all the bartenders by name and had tried every item on their delectable food menu. One mixologist named Sarah had even created a drink called 'the Paul,' though I'm pretty sure it never made it to the official cocktail list and I'm the only one who ever drank it. (As I recall, it was a variant on the Manhattan that incorporated a bit of Grand Marnier.)
Anyway, I could wax poetic about Trinity Place for hours. Set in the basement of a former bank building, the interior space ingeniously makes use of the former vault, its massive safe door swung open, beckoning you to enter a realm that for years was the secure domain of big-shot financiers.
Originally run by an Irishman named Donal, Trinity was then-famous for its Guinness, since the staff were tasked with cleaning the pipes daily, guaranteeing it always tasted its absolute best. So while Sarah and Ally celebrated with bubbles, David and I indulged in a pint of that famous black brew.
Having been so impressed with the south-of-the-border fare on offer in Asbury Park a few days earlier, my guests requested a second helping of Mexican cuisine for dinner that night. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but I'm so glad I let them have there way. It's kinda funny, but I wouldn't think twice about indulging in a second helping of fish and chips when in England. And when I am in Thailand, it's no problem to have curry every single day. But while my friends were here in New York, I kept striving for variety on the food front. What a lesson learned! When a place excels at something you can't easily find back home, why limit yourself to one experience?
La Contenta was utterly fabulous. The friendly staff treated us like old friends, and I began to get really excited for a trip to Mexico I'll be taking next month, as the plus one of Heidi, who has been invited to a wedding in Tulum.
From a round of cocktails as we waited for a table to a hearty mole to an ethereal tres leches cake that was so incredibly scrumptious we ordered a second helping, that dinner was pitch perfect. And the joint next door, Nurse Bettie, a random 1950s-style burlesque bar, provided a suitable if slightly surreal venue for a nightcap before we ventured back to Brooklyn.
Having traversed the industrial-looking Williamsburg Bridge the day before, we opted for the more elegant Brooklyn Bridge on Thursday morning, our last full day as a quartet. I guess this is just one of those things every tourist in New York wants to do. So cross it we did.
Still, our object that morning was not Manhattan, it was further culinary exploration of Brooklyn. So we headed straight back across the East River to seek out a little deli. You see, back in the planning stages for this trip, Ally had mentioned a "salt beef sandwich" as something we was really interested to try in New York. Apparently, she told me, we are famous for them.
I was dumbfounded for a moment, but trusty Google informed me that "salt beef" is just the British way of saying "corned beef," and what Ally was actually after was simply one of our celebrated Reubens. Since they are also one of my own favorites, I naturally agreed to honor her request!
Foursquare lead us to a pint-sized box called the Mile End Delicatessen on Hoyt Street, where we were treated to yet another incredible meal. Not just delicious Reubens but decadent poutine as well, a nod to the deli's namesake Montreal neighborhood.
And for dessert? Well, the original branch of world-renowned Junior's (of cheesecake fame) was less than ten minutes away on foot. This is one of those classic New York icons that I'd never actually had a chance to scope out firsthand. And I wanted to change that. So off we went!
The running joke of the trip was still how we ate like monsters. But even Carl would be amazed at the effort we put in at Junior's. We'd just had massive sandwiches and now we were downing enormous slices of cake. Oh, and I had an egg cream, too! Oh, and was it heavenly! I can't believe it took me until thirty-two years old to get here. But I'll be back again soon.
Seeing a full-fledged Broadway show was another item the gang had expressed interest in from the earliest days of this trip's planning. And so I suggested The Waverly Gallery by Kenneth Lonergan, which they agreed would be a good option. With a cast like Elaine May, Joan Allen, Lucas Hedges and Michael Cera, how could anybody pass it up?
We treated Heidi to a ticket, too, for being such a gracious hostess for us earlier. So we all met up at Bar Centrale, a once-hidden cocktail lounge that seems to be more on the radar these days, before heading over to the Golden Theater to take our seats for the evening's performance.
"Anybody up for a few last slices of pizza?" went the question.
"Yes, of course," came the reply.
And, so, like that, Sarah, Ally and David's final night in New York drew to a memorable finish. I'm not sure it could have ended in any other way. Heidi helped order them an Uber back to Brooklyn, but—truth be told—she and I continued our bar hopping around Midtown.
I ventured to Brooklyn myself via subway early the next morning to pack up from our AirBnB and escort my visitors around for a few last hours, before their flight back to London. A local Williamsburg brunch favorite, simply called Egg, attracted us with its homey menu and convivial atmosphere. This is the type of place that keeps crayons on its white paper-covered tables, to amuse toddlers. Of course, not being the most mature group of millennials, we immediately began drawing with them ourselves.
Literally steps away is a popular (and very atmospheric) German beer joint called Radegast Hall, where we killed some time after our meal. It felt like grabbing a handful of sand on a Caribbean beach on the last day of your vacation. No matter how hard you try, it keeps slipping through your fingers until it's all gone, and you've arrived at the tail end of your trip.
The only fitting place to say goodbye was Kabooz's, back in Penn Station, where we had our last round of drinks before they headed to the AirTrain to take them to JFK. It had been the spot we first reconnected two weeks earlier, as their excitement boiled over at their first trip to New York. And it was here that I bid them Godspeed on their flight home, chuckling over the improbable perfection of their trip.
At Villanova, I learned that I love a place most when I get to share it with those who have not yet had a chance to experience it for themselves. During my time as a Blue Key tour guide there, I just couldn't get enough of guiding potential future Wildcats around the campus, telling stories and helping visitors see the place through my eyes. When I studied abroad in Paris, I got the same feeling when friends and family came to visit, and I could "show off" a city that meant so much to me to people who meant so much to me. Obviously, in Hong Kong, some of the high points of the last ten years have been playing chaperone to the innumerable visitors who've found their way to the Pearl of the Orient, as the litany of posts contained on this blog will attest.
But I don't get the opportunity very often to shine a similar light on my original home. Since Silja Boy came to for Christmas back in 2013, I can't recall having had any out-of-town guests. That's a disappointment, because no matter how far I travel or how long I stay away—and even if I never wind up calling this place home on a permanent basis again—you can bet it will always remain the most special place on earth to me. So I just love having Sarah, Ally and David around, particularly at this festive time of the year.
They were such an appreciative bunch, and the time we spent together was oh-so incredible. After the top job they did showing me around Hampshire back over the summer, it felt appropriate to return the favor in a similarly superlative manner.
So 2018's farewell saw out a memorable year in a memorable fashion and 2019's introduction has set great expectations for the next twelve months. Yes, these past weeks sure have been one rip-roaring adventure, and I look forward to many more as this new year continues!
Happy new year, everybody! And to my dear "mates" Sarah, Ally and David, I hope you guys had as much fun as I did during your visit! You're always welcome back, and I have a feeling our friendship will continue to pay spectacular dividends for all involved as we traverse this wild world!
