As I listen to stories of people all over the world slowly coming out of lockdown, I remain so grateful to have spent the past string of months in Hong Kong, this glorious archipelago blessed with so much natural beauty, where the worst we’ve had to endure has been a few weeks of scaled down social gatherings and the short-term closure of venues like gyms, cinemas and beauty parlors.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. Life has been a little quiet since
Chinese New Year, make no mistake. And the face mask is now a firmly-rooted daily necessity. What's more, there's no doubt the global implications of COVID-19 are
going to be with us for a long time. Nobody will be able to escape that. But those
of us who’ve weathered this storm in Hong Kong need to count our blessings. For
unlike the residents of so many places, we’ve never lost the ability to dine in restaurants, we’ve
always been able to go out of our apartments with complete freedom, and there’s
never been any discussion of which industries are essential and which are expendable.
For the most part, everything has managed to remain open for business except
those few enterprises that pose such obvious risks that they were ordered to temporarily
shutter.
And the good news is that, with only minimal disruption to everyday
life, Hong Kong has remarkably escaped the worst of the pandemic, at least in
terms of the disease itself. Considering our city’s interconnectedness with
Wuhan—previously the source of multiple daily direct flights and even trains arrivals—the fact that our overall number of confirmed cases today sits at 1,084 is downright
extraordinary. And our death count is four. Four.
Although I believe that any loss of life is a tragedy, comparing
our figures to the number of infections and fatalities in other places in the
world makes it pretty obvious that Hong Kong has emerged from this whole thing largely
unscathed.
The biggest consequence for most of us has been the inability
to venture further afield, as COVID-19 has made foreign travel problematic since
mid-March. That’s when the Hong Kong government enacted a strict fourteen-day home
quarantine for all international arrivals. So, while a limited number of flights
are still running, anybody who opts to exit the SAR is slapped with a
monitoring bracelet upon his return, restricted from leaving his apartment (or
a hotel room, if you prefer) for a full fortnight! It’s removed pretty much all
motivation to cross the border until this rule is relaxed.
Obviously, keeping the virus out is paramount, so I have no complaints
about the government’s strict rules for returnees. But without travel to keep
us occupied—so far, I’ve postponed six previously planned trips—and blessed
with our continued freedom to move about the territory at will, many of us have
taken to reminding ourselves just why we love this place so damn much.
Yes, May, a month usually blessed with warm weather, has
proven a great opportunity to relish all the joys this city has to offer. The
skies are often arrestingly beautiful and, although there has been some rain of
late, it’s been quite a stellar month. There have been a few bittersweet notes,
to be sure, but on the whole, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.
Many of my friends back home, particularly those in New
York, have not been so lucky. And some have resorted to clever ways to
entertain themselves in the midst of this crisis. Heidi has even invited me to
participate in two virtual pub quizzes, organized by friends who work for the
United Nations!
They’re kind of fun, believe it or not. Everybody gathers on
Zoom, and the quizmaster reads out the questions of any given round. And then
you and your teammates are either sent into “break rooms” where you can discuss
your thoughts on the best answers, or you just converse in a Whatsapp group
chat. Sure, it’s not a permanent replacement for gathering in a bar. But it’s
certainly better than nothing!
Here in Hong Kong, May arrives each year in the form of a public
holiday marking Labour Day. This year, it also happened to be a Friday, meaning
a long weekend. And, in an even greater quirk of timing, Buddha’s Birthday fell
just one day earlier, the thirtieth of April, a Thursday. That means we got a
four-day weekend to celebrate.
I had planned to spend Buddha’s Birthday with my friends
Myles and Chun on Lantau for a hike, but traffic was so bad that they got stuck
for hours waiting for a bus. I wound up alone atop Ngong Ping 360, which was
supposed to serve as our communal meeting spot before heading off. But it was
undeniably cool to mark the holiday in the shadow on the iconic Buddha statue
and wish the big guy many happy returns.
Instead of hiking, I spent some time wandering about, since
I’m pretty sure I haven’t been up here since Jen and Shea came to visit almost
five years ago. Atmospheric Po Lin Monastery, with its spiritual, mystical air;
touristy Ngong Ping Village, its polar opposite; and the massive statue itself,
surveying this ironic juxtaposition. All in all, I lingered for over an hour,
just soaking everything in.
And, in a random coincidence, I bumped into my friend Tanya
just as I was about to scale the steep staircase that leads to the statue
itself! It was so nice to be able to catch up with her, as we both concurred
that we were exceptionally lucky to have been spared full-on lockdowns and
other coronavirus-related measures that have been implemented in less lucky
locales.
It was a public holiday, of course, and with all those trips
now cast aside, I’ve continued using the funds originally earmarked for vacations
to indulge in little splurges from time to time. And so, instead of taking the
bus back down, I opted for the glorious cable car and even went so far as booking
a crystal cabin, the special glass-floored gondolas that offer a stunning ride
from the Buddha down to Tung Chung far below.
I actually did have a little important work to attend to, so
I wound up alone in my office for a few hours in the afternoon. But before
long, Myles and Chun arrived, and we headed over to ifc roof for a Shake Shack
burger. In the end, it wasn’t at all how I thought I’d be spending the day, but
it turned out pretty perfectly.
On the first of May, that next day, I actually laid low. A
far cry from how I normally mark a public holiday, I know, but as this was the
second in a row, and the previous day had been such a wild success, I opted to
stay close to home, lounging around with Fredric.
But it was also, as I mentioned earlier, a Friday, and I
realized as lunchtime drew near that I hadn’t tried a new restaurant yet that
week. You see, I have a self-enforced rule that at least once between Monday
and Friday, I must experiment with a new lunch venue. I don’t know why I have
to resort to imposing strict regulations on myself, but I do…
It has to be lunch, and it has to be during the work week. (Of
course, I’m always free to try a new place for dinner, or over the weekend, too.
But the rule applies only to weekday lunches. In case you’re wondering, if I
wind up trying two new venues one week, it doesn’t get me out of the requirement
for the next. I still have to find a new restaurant.) And so, there I was, my last
chance to be in compliance for the week.
I searched Google for dog-friendly restaurants, as I wanted my
canine companion to join me, and we wound up at Little Bao, a very popular eatery
I’ve been meaning to try for years. Previously in SoHo, the Chinese-fusion
hotspot is now located in Causeway Bay overlooking Victoria Park, meaning it’s
an easy walk from my flat.
Honestly, most of the new restaurants I try out don’t wow
me. Of the twenty or so venues I’ve given a whirl so far this year, there’re
only a few I’ll definitely return to. But Little Bao is surely among them. In
fact, I’ve already been back twice—including earlier today, meaning my last lunch
of the month was at the same place where I had the first—in addition to having
placed two Deliveroo delivery orders! That’s a total of five meals in as many
weeks, so I guess it’s safe to assume I like the place.
Anyway, having missed out on my hike on Thursday, I made up for
it on Saturday. I hike a fair amount when the weather permits, and with the
approach of summer, it seemed a good idea to squeeze a few in before the heat
and humidity really arrive in full force in June. So when my friends Matt and
Ana organized a jaunt up to Sunset Peak, I quickly hopped on. Often cited by
nature enthusiasts as one of Hong Kong’s most beautiful trails, Sunset Peak is
a spot I’ve known about it for years. In fact, probably a decade. So it was a
bit shocking to realize I’d never done it before.
The views along the way were pretty astounding, I must say.
Rugged Lantau really looks good on a bright morning, even if a few clouds did
obscure the actual summit. And I’m proud to report that it wasn’t too much of a
struggle, from a physical perspective. All in all, I really enjoyed it.
Of course, after such strenuous activity, a beer on the
beach tastes very good indeed. And down on Pui O, we had more than our fair
share that afternoon, under splendidly sunny skies.
And then it was back to Mui Wo, for a fresh seafood feast. As
we ordered, I snuck away from the table for a few moments.
You may recall that last month, on Easter Monday, I stumbled
upon a small wine shop in Mui Wo, where I picked up a bottle of Amontillado.
Well, as that bottle—which I thoroughly enjoyed—was now long finished, and
since I was back in the village, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that I
might as well stop by and pick up another.
The friendly shop owner steered me towards a Palo Cortado,
another variety of sherry, which also seriously impressed me. And, perhaps
inevitably, a few days later, I wound up on the Wikipedia page learning more
about this popular wine. Part of the article mentions that a specific breed of
dog, the Ratonero Bodeguero Andaluz, is particularly associated with sherry,
having been bred over centuries to aid vintners by hunting vermin between wine
barrels in the cellars. There’s even a little Ratonero on the label of the
bottles of the particular brand this shop stocks. And who knows? Maybe a future trip to Andalusia—we have that office in Malaga, you may remember—will see me adopting a
little brother for Fredric. I even have his name all picked out: Monte, short
for Amontillado.
Back at the table, in a stroke of impeccable timing, the
first of the dishes had arrived, crunchy fried squid and clams in black bean
sauce. And before long, the waitress was placing our heavenly steamed whole pomfret
down. Not having eaten yet that day, I was absolutely starving by this point.
And our whole group really went to town on pretty much everything that was spread
out before us. It was a fantastic meal.
One of the little bonuses of any ferry journey to or from Central
is a stop at Beer Bay, a casual bar set up between the Discover Bay and Lamma
Island piers. It’s really only a takeaway stand, but they have such a great
selection on offer, and so many people wind up chilling out in the vicinity
after selecting their brews, that it makes for as wonderful an atmosphere as a
waterfront watering hole could ask for. Someone inevitably whips out a guitar,
or stars singing, and the whole place takes on a very special ambiance. So,
that night, it was only fitting that we continued the party there upon our arrival
on dry land.
Believe it or not, the very next day, I was back to Lantau, my
third trip over in four days. It was another gorgeous morning, clear skies, a
few clouds and strong sun. And as our boat pulled out of Central, you could
just tell it was going to be a sensational day.
I don’t know why, but the route between Central and Mui Wo
almost always seems to host a flock of flying fish. It’s the only place I know
in Hong Kong where you can count on seeing scads of scaly swimmers jumping out of
the water in the wake of your boat as you cruise along. They make an appearance
pretty much every time!
It’s always a breathtaking experience to spot the first of
the school, quickly followed by his little classmates, all jumping out of the
water like corn kernels popping on a hot skillet.
The catalyst for that day’s trip was a picnic on Cheung Sha
Beach, organized by our friends Lisa and Agust. And even Fredric came along for
the fun. We selected a grassy spot at a stretch called Welcome Beach, popular
with landing paragliders. And what with the delectable home-cooked specialties provided
by Lisa, and a constant flow of cold beers from a nearby shop, it was a great
day indeed.
Beer Bay was closed by the time we pulled back into the pier
in Central, as it was fairly late on a Sunday evening. But a nearby Circle K
supplied us with a few cans, so we could properly cap off our madcap Lantau
weekend and toast to the good memories.
Yes, April had segued into May seamlessly and memorably! It
was to be a month full of tasty food, memorable outdoor time in some of Hong
Kong’s most sensational settings, and lots of movies.
So let’s start with the food, shall we?
Of course, the month just isn’t complete without celebrating
Cinco de Mayo. It’s probably the only day of the year when I have Mexican for
both lunch and dinner, never fail. And this year, I continued the tradition.
In fact, I had lunch near my flat, at a brand-new Cali-Mex
that’s opened in Happy Valley, replacing O’Bird, the fabulous French rotisserie
I used to frequent. Still, a free margarita eases the transition, alright. And
the friendly staff are always a pleasure to chat with.
I probably don’t have to tell you this, but I booked a spot
at Agave for dinner. It just wouldn’t be Cinco de Mayo in Hong Kong without a
stop here. With that blasted four person per table restriction still in place,
our Tuesday night dinner was a far cry from last year’s black out Sunday brunch
for twelve. But it was still a great night with my friends Max, Celine and
Danijela, as we sipped margaritas and micheladas and chowed down on seriously
amazing South of the Border specialties, including my favorite molcajetes with
fiery habanero prawns.
One memorable Monday I headed to ifc after work to make use
of a hundred-dollar coupon that was about to expire. I headed straight up to
Crystal Jade, where I indulged in a hearty feast for one. Xiao long bao, spicy
chili wantons, dan dan noodles and a shredded Shandong pancake… Of course, it
was too much food and I wound up taking most of the dan dan to go. But there’s
a reason I often cite this place as my favorite restaurant in town. And that
dinner was proof positive.
There was even one final trek over to Lantau before the
month was out, last Sunday. Initially, I had just headed over myself, content
to spend my day in solitude. I had a hankering for Turkish food, and my
favorite Turkish restaurant happens to be in Mui Wo. I also wanted to re-stock
my sherry. But it wound up being a much fuller day than I could have
anticipated.
As I was feasting on stuffed grape leaves and cigarette borek,
I got a message from Matt saying that he and Ana were also in Mui Wo. Of
course, after finishing my lunch, I headed over the fresh seafood restaurant
where they were eating. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Lisa and Agust
with them, too. I’m sure you’ve guessed that they were complementing their meal
with a few ice-cold bottles of Tsing Tao.
“Have a glass?” Ana asked in a way that was more of a command than a question, especially as she was already pouring it for me before I’d had a
chance to say yes. Not that I’d have refused it, anyway.
Coincidentally, that day just happened to be Hari Raya, the
Indonesia name for Eid, a holiday celebrated by Muslims the world over to mark
the end of Ramadan. And in a stroke of good fortune, Ana and Lisa, both Indonesians
themselves, had friends who lived along the beach, who invited us all over for
a party, the highlight of which was a sensational home-cooked buffet of scrumptious
specialties.
As we walked back towards the ferry at the day’s end, there
were about fifteen buffalo just lounging on the beach. It’s almost surreal to think
that you’re only a short boat ride from one of the world’s busiest
metropolises, yet here you have wild animals freely roaming in a quaint seaside
village.
I’ll always be grateful for little Mui Wo, so easily
accessible, yet worlds removed from the hustle of Hong Kong. I guess I don’t
have to tell you that I bought another bottle of sherry from the little shop—this time a Manzanilla Pasada en Rama—before hopping back on the ferry home.
One of the veritable highlights of the month was a Saturday
excursion to another of Hong Kong’s plentiful outlying islands, remote Tung
Ping Chau, where I ventured with Danijela.
I think I mentioned in my last post that Danijela is moving to Germany soon, having
accepted a new job offer. As such, she’s trying her best to check all the items
off her Hong Kong to do list. Well, when she asked if I wanted to tag along to
the most far flung of our outlying islands, I jumped at the chance. I’ve been meaning
to go myself for some time now, but it’s just so far from everything, with such
sporadic ferry connections, that I just never got around to it. Until now!
If Mui Wo is a quick and easy destination, with its hourly
boats every day of the week, tiny Tung Ping Chau is the opposite! We took an
early morning Uber from Causeway Bay to the pier in University, out past Sha
Tin in the New Territories. And then we took a weekend-only ninety-minute boat
ride that finally let us off on the tiny, flat outcrop of an island, famous for
its stunning rock formations.
From the abandoned settlements near the dock, to the wooded
trail that encircles the island, to a glorious, long beach where we lounged the
afternoon away, to a pretty phenomenal little al fresco restaurant where
we indulged in some fried squid and curry fish balls, the island really won me
over.
I can assure you, there’s no way I’m waiting long before my
second visit, as it really was a special place that captures so much of what
makes Hong Kong so incredible.
In addition to all the calories and outdoor time in my city
I’ve just told you about, I’ve also spent a fair amount of my free hours staring
at screens. And I’m not talking about the computer at work.
Two weeks ago Friday, I got the itch to watch Way Down
East. Does that ever happen to you? Somehow, the idea of a movie gets into
your mind, and you just have to watch it that night. Whether you hear a song
that conjures up a memory, or a still from the film is posted somewhere online,
or somebody drops a quote during everyday conversations…
So I don’t know why, but there I was, sitting at my desk at
the office, unable to think of little else except Lillian Gish drifting down
the White River on an ice floe. So I decided I had to go home and pop on the DVD that
night.
And it put a little idea in my head to self-curate a mini-festival
called Silent Spring. My goal was to watch silent movies—and only silent
movies—for the next two weeks. And I’m proud to say I made it to twenty! (Yes,
I had Hearts and Flowers stuck in my head for days.)
I ensured all the big stars were included. Lillian Gish, of
course. Swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, America’s Sweetheart.
Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, the great silent clowns. Theda
Bara, the original Vamp. Lon Chaney, the Man of a Thousand Faces. Corinne
Griffith, the Orchid Lady of the Screen. And legends like Marion Davies, Rudolph Valentino, Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson, John Gilbert, Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford.
During the silent days, especially the late silent days just
before the movies learned to talk, Hollywood hit supreme visual and artistic
heights the likes of which were never again equaled after the arrival of sound.
With sparkling dialogue to distract us, audiences just don’t require such arresting
images to hold our attention for a couple of hours in the dark. But, luckily,
we’ll always have those great examples from the late twenties.
In addition to Way Down East, I watched (in order) Broken
Blossoms, The Sheik, Son of the Sheik, La Bohème, The
Garden of Eden, The Thief of Bagdad, He Who Gets Slapped, Peter
Pan, The Mysterious Lady, Sherlock Jr., The Circus,
Speedy, A Fool There Was, Wings, Sadie Thompson, My
Best Girl, Sunrise, Show People and Our Dancing Daughters.
A few of these are bona fide favorites of mine, classics I’ve
screened dozens of times. But I made an effort to squeeze in quite a few new
ones, mostly movies I’ve wanted to catch for years yet somehow never got around
to. Some had even been in my DVD folder for over a decade, never having been
watched. (Such was the fervor with which I purchased DVDs with my parents’
credit cards during my youth!)
Among the list you can spot the first Oscar-winning Best
Picture, Wings, an epic World War I drama I dragged my mother and sister
into Manhattan to see at Film Forum when I was in high school. I’ve loved it
ever since.
Incidentally, that first year when Wings won the
Oscar, the Academy handed out two statuettes that—at the time—were deemed to be
the co-equal top honors of the evening. F.W. Murnau’s masterful Sunrise,
also a part of my Silent Spring selection, won an award for Best Unique and
Artistic Picture, while Wings took one home for what was then called
Outstanding Picture. It was only the following year, with the former
category now discontinued, that the Academy retroactively decided that the
award won by Wings was to henceforth be their highest honor.
Sunrise, for what it’s worth, is an even better film. With its haunting use of double exposure and liberal onslaught of breathtaking tracking shots, it holds up remarkably well for its ninety-plus years. (I also saw it for
the first time back in high school. Twentieth Century Fox released a new line
of DVDs called Studio Classics. A limited-edition disc of Sunrise was
sent to customers who bought three of these titles and mailed in the proofs of
purchase. I still remember the day the postman delivered my copy.)
But I’d never seen either of Valentino’s Sheiks nor
Garbo’s Mysterious Lady nor Chaney, Shearer and Gilbert in the first
M-G-M production He Who Gets Slapped. It was a pleasure to discover
them, and several of the others, and I’m already thinking I’ll need a
summertime installment of my festival. Maybe Son of Silent Spring is a catchier
title than uninspired Silent Summer?
I broke my fast and returned to talking pictures with 1988's Cinema Paradiso on Friday night at
Movie Movie, formerly the AMC in Pacific Place. Yes, the government relaxed its
restriction, allowing cinemas to re-open with added precautions. But I guess
with a dearth of new flicks being released thanks to COVID, the theaters have
taken to digging out the old reels gathering dust in their closets. Anyway, it’s
a movie I’d long heard was an Italian masterpiece, and I jumped at the chance to buy a ticket when
I spotted it on the calendar.
Danijela decided to come along, too, and although we couldn’t
get seats together, we celebrated with Aperol Spritzes (the most Italian thing
we could think of) before the screening. It was, put simply, an incredible motion
picture, with perhaps the best ending I’ve ever seen, a manic frenzy of kisses
taken from all manner of classic black and white dramas, a montage that doubles
as a love letter to cinema itself. I’ve watched it on YouTube countless times these
past couple of days, and I just can’t get Ennio Morricone’s amazing score out
of my head. It finally replaced Hearts and Flowers, mercifully!
Post-screening, Danijela and I walked to Wan Chai, where we
linked up with our friends Myles, Chun, Omar and Sarah for drinks at a great
cocktail bar called WTF, which stands for, contrary to what you might first
think, Worth the Fuss, indicating the amount of love and effort that goes into crafting
each cocktail on their lengthy list. I’ve whizzed past the place pretty much
every day on the tram to work, but shockingly never ventured inside. Let’s just
say, I’ll be back soon. It’s one of the best cocktail bars I’ve yet found here.
But apart from such high highs, this month has had its share
of bittersweet occasions, too.
With today drawing the month of May to a close, it’s with a
heavy heart that Hong Kong says a communal so long to Jimmy’s Kitchen, the
1928-opened mainstay of the city’s culinary fabric. Referred to as a local institution,
it’s been lionized in the press these past few weeks, and, of course, I
relished one last visit, with my friends Hana and Julien a few Sundays ago. There’s
talk that, if they can find the right location, they just may re-open in the
future. But in case this really is the end, I’m glad my last feast was one to
remember.
I indulged in prime rib with gravy and Yorkshire pudding,
complete with a smoked bloody Mary and great service. The three of us even
split an order of French toast as a dessert. I took a long, wistful look over
my shoulder as we walked out.
However, the most heartbreaking day of the month for me was
the nineteenth, my sister’s birthday, and her thirtieth, to boot. I had always intended
to fly home to mark the milestone. I mean, how could I not? She came all the
way to Hong Kong back in 2016 to wish me a happy thirtieth in person, and it
seemed inconceivable not to return the favor.
Alas, COVID made it pretty much impossible.
But my good friend Kitty is a very talented illustrator, and
I called her about two weeks in advance of the big day to see if she might be
able to dream up a little imaginary birthday shot my sister and I could share together. She immediately
agreed, and I sent her a few photos of Danii to give her some inspiration.
I was absolutely astounded by the incredible drawing she presented
me with. My only problem was that I still had a week to go, and I was so anxious
to share it, that at several points I thought my excitement would get the
better of me, and I’d jump the gun. In the end, I held out long enough to
surprise my sister with it on her birthday, and it was so nice to feel like I’d
contributed in some small way to her happiness on such an important occasion.
My dad and sister, the lucky devils, are actually down in
Chincoteague, Virginia, celebrating a week late, but better than not at all.
Knowing the amazing food, especially the oysters, they must be eating, I steered
a work lunch this past Thursday to Fish Bar, so I could indulge myself. Seated
by the pool at the JW Marriott with a dozen Irish and French bivalves, it was
as close as I could get to joining them.
Of course, when I called Kitty to talk about a potential
portrait, she mentioned that it had been awhile since we last hung out. “I’m
actually going kayaking this weekend in Sai Kung, if you’d like to join,” she
said. It was an invitation I readily accepted.
I’d never been kayaking before. But it was certainly a
blast. I think it was a bit of an ambitious route to thrust upon a first timer
like myself, but it turned out to be a very fun day.
I especially liked our sojourn on Grass Island, a tiny
fishing village famous for sea urchin fried rice and a particularly cluttered,
rocky beach that made for great combing. Not only was it great to give my poor
arms a break from all the rowing, but the food was utterly delicious and the
shells and sea glass I brought home with me look great displayed atop my living
room cabinet.
Of course, it’s spring here, so that means we’ve been
subjected to some impressive precipitation. There have been thundery nights
where I’ve watched the rain splatter on the window pains of my glass cube of a
bedroom. And early mornings where I’ve gotten stuck at my local coffee shop,
Happy Alley, unable to leave in spite of my large umbrella, because the rain
was pouring down so hard.
Even yesterday wound up being a typically glorious, lazy,
boozy rain fest. My friend Christina is a realtor and she was showing an
apartment in Happy Valley. If she hadn’t texted me to see if I wanted to meet
up for lunch afterwards, I probably wouldn’t have found the motivation to leave my flat.
But she did. And I was thirsty. So I convinced her to swap
out the lunch for a round of drinks, and down we went to the Jockey for a few
pints. When we overheard the patrons at the next table mention they were about
to begin a game of Cards Against Humanity, we invited ourselves to join. And
twelve pints later, we hopped a taxi to Kennedy Town, to continue the party on
the waterfront at a local brewery-cum-restaurant called Little Creatures.
Realizing we were just downstairs from Max and Celine’s pad,
I sent across a quick message, asking if they were free to come say
hello. They were, and they brought little Zoey with them, their adorable almost
one-year old daughter. The Saturday evening crowd was out in full force, a din of laughter carried by the salty sea breeze. There was even a random couple making out. Yes, apart from the still-present masks, it felt as
though life had pretty much gone back to normal for all intents and purposes.
The day had been a full one. Random encounters with new friends,
spontaneous messaging to and from old ones, leading to unexpected meet-ups and
an all-day drinking session. It’s the Hong Kong we all know and love again.
And what more fitting ending could such a day have than a
screening of Grand Hotel in my living room. I’d wanted to watch it for
days but had held off, owing to my utter commitment to Silent Spring. Now, at
long last, it was time to indulge, especially after a glorious close-up of
Garbo about to embrace John Barrymore had featured the night before in the
finale of Cinema Paradiso.
All in all, it was a great evening… A great
afternoon… A great day. Well, I guess, in the end, it was simply an all-around great month.
