Requiem for the Chapel

 

This post has been a long time coming. For over four years, I’ve meant to write it. But somehow I never got around to actually doing it. 

Now, I have to. Because it's regrettably my last chance to devote a blog to the Chapel, one of the world’s greatest pubs, and a little slice of heaven that—sadly—closed today in the wee small hours of the morning, after twenty-two years of attempting to quench Happy Valley’s collective thirst. 

As I finished my last pint there around 4:30am, my head and heart were bursting with memories of great friends, amazing food, and of course, the intellectual successes and failings of our Thursday night pub quiz team.

Tucked in the middle of Yik Yam Street in Happy Valley, only a few minutes' jaunt from my apartment, the Chapel—and it’s weird to have to use the past tense here—was a true community watering hole. It was the type of establishment they make sitcoms about, with an endearing, animated, eccentric cast of colorful regulars, chirpy staff and a true master chef calling the shots in the kitchen.  

The chef in question is named Chaky, an Indian who has ignited in me a true love for his country’s cuisine. Before my first Chapel visit, I had dabbled only slightly in Indian food. But Chaky’s cooking transformed me into more than a fervent admirer. From butter chicken to palak paneer, onion bhajees to lamb roganjosh, chicken pakoras to garlic naan, and anything lathered in a korma sauce or covered in mango chutney, the Chapel, i.e. Chaky, has taught me so much.

But every member of the staff was sensational. Almost always, I would walk in, find the table with my name on it, and sit down... and my Corona was on the way. Some nights, I didn’t even want that Corona, but I couldn’t help but appreciate that the barmaids knew me and acknowledged my entry.

The layout of the Chapel was extremely simple—a few tables, the bar itself surrounded by high stools and some booths along the side. It was never going to win any interior decorating awards, but that was the point. It felt like home.

It was all lorded over by Surjit, as good a publican as there ever was, I expect. Friendly, intelligent, warm and inviting, he made every person who entered his place feel like they were drinking in an extension of their living room. 

I don’t recall the exact date when I first set foot in the Chapel, but I know it was in 2010. Alex and Sonia had both been before, and suggested doing the Thursday night quiz one week. I can still remember Alex, impressed, mentioning that Surjit had remembered his and Sonia’s names when they stepped inside a few days earlier to reserve a table.

It didn’t take long before reservations became unnecessary—we had a rolling booking each and every Thursday, and our table was always full. When Alex’s sister Amy moved here, she became a mainstay of our team. And Silja, Rich, Iris, Gauthier and Courtney also regularly joined in during their stints in Hong Kong. And it was a natural spot to gather when we had guests in town, to show them a true slice of our expat life. 

One day, Amy's friend Jen brought a newcomer along, a fellow Yank named Eleni, who became not only a pillar of the team but one of my best Hong Kong pals. 

The quizmaster was also an American, named Glenn. A Pittsburgh native who once lived in Bryn Mawr, Glenn is as much a part of the Chapel for me as the rest of the staff, even though I suppose he wasn’t technically an employee.  

The quiz would typically begin around 9:50 or 10pm, with his booming voice announcing, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Chapel’s Thursday evening quiz, beginning every Thursday at 9:30 sharp.” After explaining the rules, Glenn would kick things off, and the format of the quiz was generally—though not always—pretty standard.

The first round was called the Monkey Round, and usually consisted of questions that offered a 50/50 chance of success. “What is greater, the population of Haiti or Honduras?” might be question one. “Is 1,697 prime?” might be next. “Do they drive on the left hand or right hand side of the road in Namibia?” might finish off the eight-question round.

Next up was the Sports Round, where our perpetually feeble knowledge was on full display. (Yes, there were weeks when we scored zero points here.) 

After that, came the Music Round, where Glenn would play “parts of ten songs” for the crowd, requiring us to list the “name of each song and the name of each artist.” Often, but not always, there was a subtle theme here. For example, each song might have the name of an animal in its title. Or perhaps, each artist or group had a color in their name. One week—and if I recall correctly, it was the week of our first victory—each song's title contained the name of a different American state. (Oh, and for the record: you got a separate point for the name of each song and the name of each artist, so you could get ten 'song points' even if you got none of the artists right, and you could get ten 'artist points' even if you got none of the songs right.) 

Footloose was Glenn's eternal “sound check,” fooling first time quizzers into a frenzy of discussion and writing before his inimitable voice would enlighten, “Ladies and gentlemen, that was not song number one. That was a sound check. Here, for the first time, is song number one.” Of course, at our initial quiz, I fell for it; and then spent four years savoring the scene as scores of others made the same mistake.

All this was followed by the Picture Round, where a sheet of paper was distributed containing photographs of any number of people who had been in the news over the past seven days. Our job was to list them by name, and the international nature of the crowd—a microcosm of Hong Kong as a whole—made for a very global survey of the famous and the infamous. I remember Alex and I e-mailing back and forth during Thursday afternoons, scouring news sites to remind each other of potential Picture Round contenders. This round also featured the bonus anagram, a pet favorite of mine, where you had to re-arrange all of the letters in a given phrase to make new words that fit a common theme. 

The penultimate round was always the Wipe-Out Round, a grab bag of trivia that might ask for teams to identify airports by their three-letter codes, or attach directors to movies, or link capital cities to their respective countries. The catch, of course, was that a single wrong answer wiped you out, and you got zero points for the entire round. So you could leave an answer blank and be alright, but you could not write down an incorrect response.

The Final Round was a gallimaufry of general knowledge, running the gamut from ancient history to foreign language to religion or science or anything else. But believe me, the simple description I’m providing doesn’t fully capture the wit and charm, the humor and back-and-forth banter between quizmaster and quizees. You’ll just have to take my word for it that, win or lose, it was always a great Thursday night.

Of course, it was best to win. In addition to HK$200 off your bill, you got a round of shots, a bottle of champagne and "ceremonial possession" of the Keith Mounsey Memorial Trophy, meaning for the rest of the evening, you proudly displayed the award on your table. And I loved popping the champagne and having the whole team sign the cork, which was then added to the trophy's growing collection.

A running gag Glenn created was that any time our team won, he would begin his announcement with, "And in first place this evening, for the first time ever..." Our counterpoint would be for us to search through the trophy's cork soup to find all our previous victories, and line them up on our table. 

About to add a new cork to our lineup!

We had our fair share of second place finishes, too, resulting in a prize of a bottle of wine and HK$100 off the bill. Third place got you a HK$100 discount, while second-to-last won you a round of shooters.

A second place kind of a night

My priceless Chapel memories are too numerous to fully record. But a few really stick out.

One night, we were in a dismal position going into the last round but got a fourteen point boost when the ultimate question was to list the fifteen one-word Hitchcock titles. I still kick myself for forgetting Spellbound, but no other team got more than two or three correct, Glenn later told me! We came in second place that night—beating the usual champions who came in third—though it felt like a full victory.

For the next quiz, Jen couldn’t attend but challenged the rest of us not only to emerge victorious but also to get a photo triumphantly clutching the trophy while someone from the previous week's winning team cried in the background... Of course, we made it happen!

Crying in the Chapel

Once, in the summer of 2012, Glenn was out of town and Surjit asked me and Eleni if we wanted to host the event ourselves. We spent hours and hours putting it all together: coming up with questions, selecting our songs and closely following the week's news to construct our Picture Round. Following Glenn’s format but tweaking it in our own way, we wound up with a nifty little quiz, if I do say so myself. And I’ll never forget standing up there with Eleni in front of the regulars, barking out our questions and feeling the love and scorn of the crowd.

On my last quiz before I moved to Singapore, I got called up for a special round just for me, as Glenn asked the questions, and Surjit came over with penalty shots for each wrong answer. Perhaps through some clever score tallying, they made sure we came in first place that night.

Victory on my last quiz before heading to Singapore in 2012!

Back in town for Rugby Sevens in 2013, we paid a visit on the Thursday evening going into the big weekend, and wound up sticking around afterwards until daybreak! Amy even got to play barmaid at one point. True, I had to head straight to work from the bar, but it was a great start to a great weekend.

Having returned to Hong Kong for good, I looked forward to once again having the Chapel quiz as a Thursday night staple. Alas, while on the job hunt and with all my teammates (save for Eleni) vanished from Hong Kong, I scaled back my visits.

In August, again gainfully employed, I was delighted to begin visiting regularly once more, inviting friends to join to hopefully find aficionados and build up a new loyal team. In fact, the first day of my new job happened to be a Thursday, and was duly celebrated with a Chapel quiz. Not long after came the terrible news that the landlord was making it impossible for Surjit to renew his lease.

Landlords in this town can be true terrors and are notorious for demanding exorbitantly high rents. This article in the South China Morning Post on the closing of the Chapel helps paint the picture of exactly why Surjit could no longer keep the place running.

As Alex lamented when I informed him of the Chapel's fate, "That is so, so sad... I've kinda always imagined that whenever I come back to HK I'd be able to stop in at the Chapel for a quiz, pakoras and butter chicken..." It's truly the end of an era.

In a last stroke of great luck, my team managed to eke out a final victory in one last quiz a couple of weeks back. Surjit, seeing my utter delight, even allowed me to take the trophy—rarely allowed to leave the premises—home for a few nights. 

 One last victory on October 16th

I've savored my pints and curries over the last month and can't believe the Chapel is now gone. Of course, in my heart, and in the hearts of countless others, the place will live forever. So long, you wonderful pub, you, and thanks for the memories. 

Hong Kong Grab Bag

Please pardon the rather extreme dry spell that has befallen this blog for the past month or so, but today is literally the first day since the 9^th of September when I have not had an out of town visitor to entertain! It’s been a wonderful month, but incredibly busy! Throw in the Occupy Central protests of the Umbrella Revolution and a new role at work, and I know you’ll excuse me for not having had a chance yet to sit down and distill these last weeks into a tidy little post. But here is goes.

First up: Emily.

Emily is the best friend of Amy, who was one of my closest friends in Hong Kong when she lived here from 2010 to 2012. That’s when Amy moved back to the UK, and you may remember, I stayed with her and her brother Alex in London during the 2012 Olympics. While there, I was introduced to Emily, though to be completely honest, we never became Facebook friends or had any contact after the Games ended.

With Amy and Emily during the 2012 Olympics

Fast forward two years, and one day I get a message from Amy with the news that Emily will be in Hong Kong for work for two weeks come September.

She arrived, appropriately, on a Wednesday, and the corner of Lockhart Road and Fenwick Street in Wan Chai was the natural spot for our reunion. Over the next ten days, we had a blast. That first Saturday, my friend Matt invited us both to join for a junk trip, and it was a glorious day out on the water. We sailed around, stopping at various islands and beaches, drinking sangria, jumping off the top deck of the boat, swimming in the beautiful seas, and taking in the sun’s rays.

Sunday was opening day of the new horseracing season at Sha Tin Racecourse in the New Territories. So after a filling dim sum experience in Mongkok with some of Emily’s colleagues and a quick stop at the famous temple Wong Tai Sin, we headed out for a day at the races. Emily had pretty incredible luck, winning nearly every bet she put down. I, of course, fared far worse, but I couldn’t have cared less.

Winner!

One of my favorite things to combine with a day spent at Sha Tin Racecourse is post-meeting dinner at the Sha Tin Inn, a beautiful, old fashioned little Indonesian restaurant not too far from the track. They have a tiny but wonderful garden out front bedecked with twinkling lights. And their nickname is the House of Satay, thanks to their specialty dish.

As if the day hadn’t been good enough, we capped it off with a nighttime visit to Victoria Peak for a moonlit stroll: a spectacular end to a spectacular weekend.

Then, a typhoon blew our way Monday. And very late that night, it escalated to a T8, which warrants a day off from work! After the signal had been hoisted, I tried to fall asleep, but every half hour or so, I kept waking up and checking my computer, just to ensure that it hadn’t dropped back down. Sure enough, by Tuesday morning, it was holding fast, and I got my first time off from work due to a tropical storm. It did eventually die down so I had to go in for the afternoon, but I still enjoyed my morning off.

For the rest of the week, I did my best at taking Em around to my favorite Hong Kong spots for food and drink and sights. And I’ve rarely had such an appreciative guest. When she finally flew to Vietnam on Sunday afternoon, I could have really used a week off to recover, but a truckload of great memories has kept me smiling.

Saturday night antics

Of course, the night before she left, I had hosted a party on the roof to celebrate the birthday of another friend, confusingly named Emilie. And Emilie also happened to have an out of towner visiting, a Danish friend living in Beijing named Pernille. Because Emilie’s apartment is tiny, she asked if Pernille could divide her time between her place and mine, and Pernille just flew out a few hours ago!

But before Pernille actually moved in to stay at our place, my old Villanova friend Mara arrived. Mara first mentioned she was planning a trip to Asia back in June when I saw her in Los Angeles during my LAyover. Over the past few months, I’d been chatting with her and trying to put together a killer itinerary.

She was travelling with one of her best friends, Ashley. And another friend, also named Paul, would be joining for part of their stay.

I met Mara and Ashley at RED Bar as soon as I finished work on Wednesday. The weather mucked up my initial plan to immediately cross on the Star Ferry to Kowloon to see the light show, but instead we went for a drink at Staunton’s on the Escalator before meeting Johnny for his birthday party at another nearby watering hole called the Globe.

A taxi ride later, we were home with rooftop beers before heading out for another Wan Chai Wednesday. We actually met up with Pernille for a quick dinner and then sang and danced the night away.

I made it through work the next day, and joined the girls and another of their friends, named Neil, at a Lan Kwai Fong bar for the launch of a fashion line. Fashion isn’t really my thing, but free flow champagne certainly is, and it turned out to be a very fun night with some great new characters.

Four days just isn’t enough to see everything in Hong Kong, so Friday was a day to make decisions. I booked the day off from work to spend with Mara and Ashley, and gave them several options to choose from. We ended up taking the ferry to Cheung Chau to hike, wander and eat some fresh seafood.

I just love the place, as I’ve written before, so I’m very glad I was able to show it off to my friends. In fact, the last time I had gone, on the last day before starting my new job, I remember sitting on the back deck of the ferry sailing out and thinking, “I have to do this with Mara.” I’m sure we made the right choice.

Hiking on Cheung Chau

After Cheung Chau, we met the recently-arrived Paul in ifc mall and headed up to RED again to welcome him to Hong Kong. Paul is teaching in the Mainland, and this was his first time in the SAR, so I really enjoyed chatting with him about his experiences and telling him a bit about my own.

Later that night, we headed up the Peak again for that old stroll. I had only done it less than two weeks before, but it’s always winner. And there’s no way anybody gets to leave Hong Kong on my watch without fitting it in.

Swinging on my favorite tree on Victoria Peak

Saturday was set aside for Macau. There was a time when I used to go to Macau pretty much every month, but over the course of 2014, trying to find a job and looking to cut down on unnecessary expenses, I hadn’t been back yet. When I realized Mara’s visit coincided with the International Fireworks Festival, I thought about including it on her itinerary. When it turned out the Macau Waiter Race–where thousands of the city’s restaurant staff run through the streets balancing trays–was the same day, my mind was made up.

Ferry to Macau

By the time we had caught the ferry, cleared immigration and waited for a taxi, it was almost time for the race to begin. After some wandering through Macau’s old streets surrounding Senado Square, we headed to the Ruins of Saint Paul’s for the main event.

Colorful old Macau

There they were, all the waiters of the former Portuguese colony, in group costumes, holding their trays. As the various groups headed off, they picked up a bottle of beer, balanced it on their tray, and meandered through the twisty, narrow lanes of the quarter. It was a sight to see!

Gearing up for the start of the race...

But by this time, we were hungry, so we hopped a cab to Coloane for lunch at the charming Nga Tim Café, one of my all time favorite restaurants. It’s set under the arches lining a tiny square fronting a quaint little Portuguese church called the Chapel of Saint Francis Xavier, and several tables spill out onto the tiled plaza itself. To boot, they serve a winning mix of Chinese, Portuguese and Macanese dishes, my perennial favorite being the chicken cooked in a young coconut. They also do a mean sangria.

Egg tarts and chocolate cakes from Lord Stowe’s bakery, just around the corner, capped off the meal, in addition to an impromptu mini-photo shoot on the nearby waterfront, with Mainland China just across the narrow channel.

There was a quick stop at the Hard Rock Hotel before we caught a bus to the Macau Tower for the fireworks competition, which was, for me at least, the undeniable highlight of Mara, Ashley and Paul’s visit. Three countries competed that night: Portugal, France and Australia, and the Portuguese presentation actually began as we were on the bus crossing the bridge from Taipa to the Macau Peninsula. It was surreal, and once we had arrived at the festival grounds, it got even better.

France’s display was a celebration of love, and the combination of the well-known romantic tunes and the absolutely stunning pyrotechnics–including heart shaped fireworks–was almost eye-watering. We were also amazed at how long many of the colors lingered in the night sky as they slowly fell down into the harbor. I guess an international competition is where the innovators of the firework community show off their new tricks. I was completely bowled over.

Fireworks

Between the French and Australian displays, Mara got called up on stage to participate in a contest, from which, of course, she emerged victorious, winning herself an entire case of Fuze Tea that we all passed out to our fellow crowd members. In all, it was an unforgettable day.

I just couldn’t believe how quickly their time had evaporated, but Sunday they were all headed home, Paul back to China, Mara to Los Angeles and Ashley to Chicago. A celebratory dim sum from the world’s cheapest Michelin-starred restaurant was the reward for checking in early at the Airport Express.

My roommate Derek not only joined but treated us all to the feast, which we savored on the rooftop viewing deck of ifc mall.

Derek and Paul feasting on dim sum

Now bag-less, we were free to finally cross the harbor on the Star Ferry and take in the glories of the Dark Side, including the Avenue of Stars, Peninsula Hotel, Flower Market, bird garden, Fa Yuen Street Market and Ladies Market. In the middle of all this, Paul had to leave. And then, alas, it was back to Central and time for Mara and Ashley to head to the airport, too.

Scene from the Yuen Po Street Bird Garden

Waving goodbye as they boarded the express train, I made a beeline to the tram and hopped on a Happy Valley-bound ding ding. We didn’t even make it one stop before traffic was so clogged that I had to disembark. The Umbrella Revolution was kicking off.

Word had been spreading about Occupy Central for the past year, growing more and more intense as the months wore on. We all knew it was coming, but to realize it was now crystallizing was a very special  feeling.

In Admiralty, I stood on the footbridge and looked down on the peaceful crowd assembled in the middle of Queensway, normally a bustling thoroughfare. The police were on the other side of some barriers blocking the road, and people were chanting, and handing out umbrellas. I didn’t stick it out too long, for in a way, I suppose I knew this was only the very beginning of something much bigger.

Late that night, Pernille arrived at our place. And from then on, the protests consumed my life. Of course, no trams were running Monday morning when I had to leave for work. The buses were all unable to complete their routes as well, due to the road closures. I wasn’t sure if the MTR would be running or not, and I knew I’d be late if I made my way to the MTR only to find it shuttered. So I walked all the way from Happy Valley to Sheung Wan in my suit, absolutely dripping when I finally arrived about forty minutes later.

Our office secretary, Joan, sent an e-mail to all her colleagues around lunchtime. "Please kindly note that I will leave the office now for the Hong Kong's pro-democracy protests today and go join the protest with friends at this afternoon," she proudly wrote.

That night, I ventured into the heart of Admiralty’s protest zone myself, and it’s something I will never forget as long as I live. People dressed in black, all sporting yellow ribbons, had literally taken over the entire district. Everywhere you looked, you couldn’t see the ground. People on overpasses, streets, sidewalks, stairways–occupy was certainly the right word for this protest!

But I couldn’t get over how peaceful and beautiful it all was. Had it occurred in any number of other cities, cars would have been turned over, windows would have been smashed, fires would have been set. Here, students were distributing water and bananas to their fellow demonstrators. Others were walking around fanning the crowd to keep people cool. And many were making their rounds with big black garbage bags collecting the trash so that the area could stay as clean as possible.

It was a stunning and eloquent display of how powerful a peaceful protest can truly be. Somebody earlier had handed me a yellow ribbon so I could show my support, and I was supremely proud to wear it. I was supremely proud to call Hong Kong home. And I was supremely proud of everybody gathered so peacefully to make their voices heard.

For anybody unfamiliar with the circumstances of what is going on right now in Hong Kong, I’ll try to summarize it simply and clearly. As you all know, Hong Kong used to be a British colony, but in 1997 it reverted to its ancestral motherland. Years before, when Britain and China worked out the terms of the Handover, it was decided that the policy of “one country, two systems” would allow Hong Kong to remain highly autonomous and maintain its Western freedoms and capitalist ways.

The Hong Kong people were also lead to believe that they would soon be able to freely elect the Chief Executive, the highest official in the SAR. It’s been seventeen years now since the Handover, and the first three Chief Executives have not been elected by the people. But Hongkongers patiently waited. There were, however, strong signals that the next election, in 2017, would be the first truly democratic one to take place here, with each citizen having an equal voice by means of one person, one vote.

Then, at the end of August, Beijing issued the terms of that upcoming election. Yes, the Hongkongers would be voting for their Chief Executive, but only from a list of two or three candidates handed down to them from the Central Chinese Government. In a way, I suppose this is better than having no say at all, but having been tempted by the idea of true universal suffrage, most in the city were absolutely appalled and outraged.

October 1^st, China’s National Day, was set out as the start of the protests, but smaller groups had been assembling earlier. On Sunday, when the police fired tear gas and used pepper spray on small group of the peaceful early demonstrators, they inadvertently jumpstarted things. Thousands upon thousands of Hongkongers watching their television sets were rightfully horrified, and decided to show their feelings by joining the protest. And so, Occupy Central kicked off.

On Tuesday night, I was back at the protests after work, with my friends Vivian and Allan, both of whom are from here. Vivian was explaining to us how she never considered herself politically minded and hadn't planned on joining the protests even as the debate heated up over the past several weeks. But now, after the images of pepper spray and tear gas flooding the crowd, she was suddenly invigorated.

That night, the atmosphere almost felt like a festival. People were singing, sitting around playing cards, and just waiting and hoping that their voices would be heard.

There were massive crashes of thunder, and it was clear a downpour was on the way. When the skies open up and rain poured down, thousands of umbrellas opened in unison, and everybody stood their ground. Looking down on the crowd from a bridge, we felt like we were watching the filming of some epic motion picture. I have never seen or experienced anything like it.

Even having Pernille staying for the past week-plus has been soaked in the spirit of the Umbrella Revolution. In between a National Day barbecue on Lamma Island and countless rooftop beers, a jaunt through an art fair at the Conrad Hotel, a pub quiz at the Chapel, and even another nighttime visit to the Peak, her excursion has been infused with deep discussions about politics and protests, especially as she has been living in Beijing for the past two years.

And I've loved getting to know her during such a fascinating time. I look forward to visiting her in Beijing one day soon to explore a place she speaks about so passionately.

With Penny on the Peak

I suppose it’s funny that this blog post morphed from a play by play of my out-of-town visitors’ itineraries into my personal account of a major news story, but that’s how my world transformed just moments after depositing Mara and Ashley on the Airport Express.  

In fact, never in my life before had I actually felt like a bona fide witness to history. But now I surely do. The immediate results of Occupy Central might not be perfectly clear yet. The crowds on the streets are thinner now, and life seems to be returning to normal. But the demonstrators and the city leaders have agreed to hold formal talks, and the central government has seen how a desire for democracy has permeated an entire city of 7.2 million inhabitants. 

A big sign draped across a covered footbridge in Admiralty asks, “Do U Hear the People Sing?” and the answer is a resounding affirmative. And the whole world has heard the song of Hong Kong.