Looking Back

2015 is about to end, and I can't say I'm particularly sad to see it go. I thought of titling this post "Good Riddance, 2015," but I decided against it. In fact, I even toyed with not posting a "year in review" entry at all, but obviously, in the end, I opted to continue the tradition.

True, it's probably been the toughest year I've ever lived through. The death of my mother at the end of March will always taint the memories associated with the year as a whole. But looking back on everything else that's happened, it would be a real disservice to write 2015 off in its entirety.

Sitting here now, I can honestly say that I've forged some incredibly strong relationships over the past twelve months. New people have come into my life and injected it with love and good fellowship. Several precious old friendships have been strengthened to new levels. And I've gotten to spend a great deal of time in the comforting arms of my family.

And as you know, I got a puppy, which changed my world in many ways and gave me a sense of responsibility I've never had before. I set foot in India for the first time to enjoy one of the single greatest adventures of my whole life. And I worked all the way through, making this my first full year of gainful employment since 2012.

Yes, despite all the sadness and heartache, the clouds had silver linings, as hard as it is to remind myself of that at times. So here's me putting my best foot forward and looking back over the good memories of the past year.

January

After a midnight countdown on ifc roof, we spent our first hours of the new year partying it up in Lan Kwai Fong.

February

My atm card decided not to work in India, so I had to get a friend to Western Union me emergency funds. This is what ₹58,000 look like! 

March

Continuing the now annual tradition, I hosted my fourth Saint Patrick's Day rooftop party in March.

April

My good friend Heidi tried her best to cheer me up during my six week trip home this spring. 

May

My sister and I got to celebrate my dad's sixty-first birthday before I flew back to Hong Kong.

June

From the moment I set eyes upon him, I fell completely in love with this little guy.

July

Fredric and I made our movie debuts this summer when my friends Emilie and Marlon asked us to be extras in their independent film.

August

A shot that never made the blog, from our Peak stroll during Shea and Jen's amazing visit in August

September

Celebrating my friend Yvonne's birthday with some drinks in Kennedy Town

October

My friend Myles is a master dinner organizer and loves sharing the local side of Hong Kong with his expat pals.

November 

My favorite people in Hong Kong help me celebrate my twenty-ninth birthday on a sampan in Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter. Bring on thirty!

December

Another December, another SantaCon!

Fredric and the Christmas Tree

Once upon a time, there was a little puppy named Fredric. He lived with his owner in Happy Valley, in a medium-sized apartment that was huge by Hong Kong standards. It was a sixth-floor walk-up, which really blows. But apart from that, it was lovely. 

Fredric was a very sociable pooch who wanted to be friends with everybody and everything he encountered.

He wanted to be friends with all the dogs he walked past on the street, even when they clearly did not want to be friends with him. Often, his owner had to jump in to save him from attack, but that did not stop Fredric from trying. He never seemed to learn his lesson.

He wanted to be friends with all the people he walked past on the street, even when they clearly did not want to be friends with him. Like, even when the people shrieked in terror and recoiled in fear—as if he were a ferocious lion on a leash instead of an adorably sweet puppy—Fredric would still run up, tail wagging, to say hello. 

He wanted to be friends with the cat who lived on Yuk Sau Street, even though this cat clearly did not want to be friends with him. She would hiss and scratch at the air whenever Fredric approached, but that did not stop him from trying. Seriously, Fredric... that cat will never be your friend.

Yet sometimes, Fredric's attempts to make friends were successful.

He made friends with the hostess at the dim sum restaurant around the corner from his flat, and every time Fredric and his owner walked by—literally, every single time—they would stop and chat with her. But she was a very nice lady, so this was OK.

He made friends with the patrons seated outside at the Happy Valley Bar and Grill. And if he played his cards right, he could even use his cute puppy eyes to convince them to sneak him table scraps. Sometimes, if his owner happened to be in a rush, he'd have to find a roundabout way to get home to avoid passing by, for fear of being late for whatever it happened to be he was doing that night. 

In short, Fredric simply adored making friends.

But one day, his owner brought around a new friend... This new friend actually lived in a box on the top shelf of the spare room, and he only came out to say hello for about one month each year. His name was Douglas Fir, and he was a Christmas tree.

Each and every December, Fredric's owner would bring Douglas out of his box and put him together. He'd spend a great deal of time arranging the branches, untangling the lights and festooning the tree with cheap ornaments from Ikea. 

At first, Fredric and Douglas did not give each other much attention at all. To please his owner, Fredric would patiently sit in front of the tree and do his best to smile for the camera.

But when his owner left him alone in the flat, Fredric made his first enemy. For to Fredric's eyes, Douglas was not as cool as any of the dogs in the neighborhood. Or any of the timid townspeople. Or the vindictive cat. Or the affable hostess. Or the drunken barflies. And he needed to be destroyed.

And so, many times during the month of December, Fredric's owner would reach the top of six flights of stairs and open his door to this pretty sight:

Thus every evening, upon returning home after a hard day's work, Fredric's increasingly exasperated owner would straighten Douglas up, re-adjust his lights, re-position his star, and re-hang his cheap ornaments. He did this, Fredric presumed, so that he could knock him down all over again tomorrow, which he dependably did. 

It seemed as if poor Douglas spent more time lying on the floor that Christmas season than he did standing. And every evening, to please his owner, Fredric would patiently sit in front of the felled Douglas and do his best to smile for the camera.

They continued this way for weeks and weeks until Fredric's owner flew home to New Jersey for Christmas and left the little scalawag with friends who did not have a Christmas tree that he could destroy. And Douglas stood proud and tall and princely in the empty apartment in Happy Valley. 

And they all lived happily ever after. Until next December, I guess. Merry Christmas, everybody! 

Thailand 4.0

Utter the name Pattaya and, in the imagination of many, you'll inspire thoughts of a raucous red-light district teeming with unsavory misdeeds. Do a quick Google search of the town's name and then take a look at the images. You'll see that you're just as apt to find pictures of scantily clad young women as you are the town's attractions or beaches. 

For years, I've been hearing about Pattaya, and my overall impression was certainly along these disreputable lines. But this past weekend, Martin and Mongia treated me to a getaway in the infamous town, and I'm happy to report that my fourth trip to Thailand was not one of repulsion and disgust but rather of relaxation and merriment. 

As I mentioned, my former landlords recently relocated there, having found a bargain flat on their last trip down. With apartment and office rent costing a small fortune each month—plus an overall exorbitant cost of living here in Hong Kong—they decided it was time to make the move to what had over the years become their perpetual holiday home. 

Owing to baggage limitations, a few suitcases were unable to make the trip down with them, and thus I became party to a tremendous bargain. If only I would agree to tote along one of the extra bags, Martin and Mongia would treat me to round trip airfare, and bed and board during my stay. I might not be the world's savviest financier, but I think I know a good deal when one comes my way. And so I immediately agreed!

First off, Emirates flies between Hong Kong and Bangkok, where it stops to refuel en route to its final destination of Dubai. Because many passengers simply book a ticket from Bangkok to Dubai, Emirates is keen to fill as many seats as possible on the first leg of the journey by offering highly competitive fares. As such, I got to fly on a world class airline, with good food, incredible entertainment and generous legroom. 

I flew out last Thursday evening, having booked Friday off from work. And by the time I returned last night, I can say I completely understand the appeal that drew Martin and Mongia to the special spot. I hope many future visits are in the cards... 

In pursuit of total transparency, Martin and Mongia don't actually live in Pattaya proper but rather in a small hamlet about ten miles out of town called Na Jomtien. It's about an eighty mile taxi ride from Suvarnabhumi Airport, but at midnight, there was no traffic so I cruised all the way down. Thanks to very thorough directions from Martin, my taxi driver and I had no trouble locating their place. 

The apartment is enormous, with two bedrooms, three full bathrooms and a sizable terrace overlooking the complex's swimming pool. What's more, it was sold fully furnished, with amazing artwork and comfortable couches and beds. Although I had nearly fallen asleep at several points during the ride down, I was immediately rejuvenated upon arrival, and so a few celebratory terrace drinks were obviously in order. 

It's kind of funny, but it took until this fourth trip to the Land of Smiles for me to finally get a taste of the country's beaches—ironic considering clear blue water and powdery white sand are prominent features of most people's idea of Thailand. That next day, we whiled away the hours on Sae Kaew Beach, managed and maintained by Thailand's navy. Although most beaches in this area have a reputation for being less-than-ideal, I was surprised to find that Sae Kaew was truly spotless, and thus a fitting introduction to the country's seaside treasures. 

When we grew peckish, we relocated a few dozen yards to the beachfront restaurant, where we feasted on local favorites like tom yum gai, pad thai and chicken curry. Back to the sands as the afternoon faded, a multitude of Russian holidaymakers came and went and Singha's magically continued appearing in my hand (courtesy of Martin). All the while, the sea was tranquil and clean, and I don't think I'll ever forget the sunset. 

That evening, we hit up Walking Street, the epicenter of Pattaya's notorious red-light district. I'm not sure quite what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a ritzy dinner of duck à l'orange at a French bistro.

I'm not saying that the seedier side of Pattaya doesn't exist—and that we didn't see glimpses of it—but simply that there's more to this place than debauchery. As we dined on La Notte's outdoor terrace, with its Italian name but a French-English menu and Francophone servers, all manner of people strolled by. Of course, there were foreign men accompanying much-younger local girls. But there were also plenty of Western couples; there were even families with babies in tow. There were large tour groups traipsing along in the footsteps of their umbrella-wielding guides. There were people of every age and nationality. And so I never felt that my trio—a twenty-nine year old Yank chaperoned by two sexagenarians from Northern Ireland and Tunisia—was even a bit unwelcome, because it seemed like everybody had a place here that night.

Walking Street

Post dinner, we hit up quite a few bars, and ended our evening at an open-air establishment with pool tables, a live band and Singha on draught. But as the endless parade of revelers continued to flood by, I was told it was time to head home. 

I realized on Saturday why Pattaya's beaches aren't held in such high esteem. Still, a beach in a city is a beach in a city: no use complaining that it isn't a pristine deserted island, because it's surely better than no beach at all! If I lived here, I'd probably make the extra effort to visit Sae Kaew Beach most of the time, but in a pinch, there's certainly no problem with unwinding for a few hours on the stretch of sand of Jomtien, where Martin, Mongia and I spent some time that afternoon.

Jomtien Beach

I was left to my own devices between 2pm and 6:30pm, while they attended to some business, so I took the opportunity to wander about town before our seafood dinner at a delightful spot within walking distance of the condo. 

Of course, I was in no way ready to head back to reality on Sunday, yet before I knew it, I had to face the music. But I feel very fortunate to have Martin and Mongia in such an accessible getaway destination, and I look forward to many more future trips to their little slice of heaven. Perhaps the prominent marquee is wrong, and good guys and bad guys all go to Pattaya.