A Tale of Two Cities

They are the best of towns, they are the worst of towns, they are towns of wisdom, they are towns of foolishness.

I am referring, of course, to Shanghai and Beijing, China's pair of major international supercities, where I was fortunate to spend this past week on a business trip that included enough free time for me to inject a serious dose of sightseeing. And as much as I love both places, they can be as exasperating as they are undoubtedly enchanting—and sometimes mere moments apart.

Traffic and pollution reign supreme, jumbled crowds clog most public spaces, creating red tape is a national pastime and communication for a non-Mandarin speaker can be nearly impossible. But there is also untold magic waiting to be discovered: the sight of the Shanghai skyline rising out of the Huangpu, scalding soup shooting out of one of Yang's pan-fried dumplings, the imperial treasures of Beijing's breathtaking architecture and, most endearingly, people so smiley and friendly you wish you just could speak their language.

And while vestiges of aggravation may cloud your memory in the moments immediately following a particularly infuriating experience, in time, these impressions diminish and are supplanted by visions of China's ineffable mystique. Thus, you're seduced into returning, only to discover all over again the irksome troubles, but also—it must be pointed out—even more charm.

So it was for me over the past eight days, as I revisited old favorite haunts, explored plenty of uncharted territory, ate close to a hundred dumplings, came face-to-face with ancient Cathay's dynastic grandeur and gritted my teeth at modern China's bureaucratic nonsense.

First among my memories is my introduction to one of the world's top tourist attractions: the Great Wall of China. I suppose it's downright shocking in a way to realize that I moved to Asia in 2009 and it took until 2018 to finally lay eyes on the majestic sight. Heck, some people have a mere twelve hour layover in Beijing yet still manage to get out of the airport to tick this item off their bucket list. That I hesitated for nine years is pretty mind-boggling.

Because my Shanghai meetings were planned for a Wednesday and Thursday and my Beijing meeting was slated for Monday, I got to choose whether to spend my weekend in the former or the latter locale. As much as I love Shanghai, I opted for Beijing, purely to give myself the ability to trek out to the Wall. It was a good choice!

My friend Ben helped me coordinate the visit, putting me in touch with a tour guide and bus company. Of course, the Great Wall of China stretches for thousands of miles, so you have to decide just which portion of the structure you wish to visit. Some areas are rugged and remote while others are well-restored, close to the city, and, thus, over-touristed. The section I visited was called Mutianyu, which strikes a good balance.

While I seriously hope to return to other sections of the Great Wall for more intimate encounters—for example, I've heard you can camp overnight and explore sections of the wall in literal privacy, and also that you can travel far, far, far from Beijing to the location where the Wall ends, crashing into the ocean—this was a pitch-perfect way to get acquainted.

The previous day, I checked another "must do" item off of my Beijing list: the Summer Palace. I rode a longboat from the Beijing Zoo, snaking up the capital's imperial waterways until our arrival. It was a glorious way to first acquaint myself with such a sight, so thanks, Frommer, for recommending it!

I'm not sure I entirely understood the summer palace before visiting. I heard the name and pictured something like the White House or Windsor Castle. I thought I'd be taking a tour of interior spaces, like throne rooms and bed chambers, a la the Forbidden City I visited on my last trip.

In reality, the summer residence of the emperors of yore is mostly outdoors, a veritable park with pagodas, temples, trees, bridges, opera houses, lakes, lanterns, statuary, gates and pavilions. The only word that encapsulates the place in its entirety would be stunning. I spent hours here just wandering around the incredible landscape, and could have stayed even longer!

And back in Beijing proper that night, I met up with my buddy Clement, who lives here, for some delicious French charcuteries and, perhaps, a bit too much wine and Pastis. I always like to spend time with Clem when we're in the same place, so I'm glad we had yet another chance to catch up.

A few days before, on the evening of my arrival to China, I had managed to connect with another friend, Jean, who lives in Shanghai, for an amazing dinner in the French Concession. I feel so lucky to have friends living in this pair of cities, and look forward to future return trips.

By the way, my accommodation in Shanghai was pure gold: the historic Metropole Hotel. Located just steps off the historic waterfront promenade, the Bund, this art deco stunner is now my only hotel of choice for visits to come.

Not only was my room immaculate and incredibly comfortable, but the hotel's staircase offers one of the best views of the city skyline I've ever seen! In fact, I kept returning to take in the incredible vista at different points of the day, from early morning to midnight darkness.

From the streamlined lobby to the hushed, carpeted corridors, to its sleek, floodlit exterior, the Metropole—opened in 1934 as a sister property to the legendary Peace Hotel—was right up my alley.

At dinner that first night, Jean also gave me several top suggestions to fill my somewhat limited free time in Shanghai. First up, she recommended a roof bar on the top floor of the House of Roosevelt on the Bund, with an expansive view out over the glittering skyline.

She also told me that one of her top picks for xiao long bao was a little hole-in-the-wall near People's Square called Jia Jia Tang Bao, which I should visit early to avoid disappointment. Stupidly, I decided to try it for dinner during peak hours, and didn't have a shot. Luckily, the original branch of Yang's Dumplings sits literally across the street and was practically empty. So I hopped over and treated myself to pure heaven.

On my last morning in town, before catching the train to Beijing, I arived at Jia Jia Tang Bao for opening, around 8am, and got a seat right away. My bamboo basket arrived piping hot a few minutes later, and I was chowing down on a breakfast for the gods, all for the equivalent of a little over two bucks!

As you can see, food is a big part of any trip to China. And rest assured, both in Shanghai and in Beijing, I ate like a king. Another highlight was Peking duck at Siji Minfu, not too far from my hotel in Beijing, also recommended by Ben.

And after my very late lunch—really an early dinner—I traced my way back towards Tiananmen Square, where I bought a ticket to explore a curiously-named sight called the Working People's Cultural Palace. Apparently, Chairman Mao changed the name from the Imperial Ancestral Temple (or Taimiao, in Chinese), and, in doing so, inadvertently discouraged throngs of tourists from visiting.

Thus, while next door's Forbidden City is overwhelmed with the masses, the similarly grandiose collection of courtyards, temples and marble plinths is pretty much desolate. I relished the opportunity to walk around in absolute solitude, snapping photos and soaking it all in.

My final day in Beijing was jam-packed, as I visited the photogenic Temple of Heaven, Lama Temple, and Imperial College, all splendid attractions. This city can get a bad rap, but I am ready to make a bold statement: I not only love Beijing but I'd rank it near the top of my list of Asian capitals.

Home in Hong Kong since early this morning, I've started to forget some of the agony, but the images of splendor lingering in my mind already have me angling for my return to the Mainland! Yes, looking back now, the good memories have risen to the top, like cream, and I'm excited to return to experience more of the treasures hidden within the borders of one of the most fascinating countries on earth.

Fredric and the Dragon Boat Festival

You all know the story. Back on 20 June 2015, I ventured down to Stanley to watch the annual dragon boat races that are the most memorable feature of the Tung Ng Festival. I made it a point to stop by the local SPCA that afternoon, because the day before, I'd seen a photograph on their website that just melted my heart: an adorable, black faced little mongrel looking for a home. I'd been on the hunt for a dog for months by this point, and I thought there was a chance that Hank—as he was then called—might just be the Fredric I'd been searching for. Spoiler alert: he was!

Although the SPCA makes you "sleep on it" for a night before allowing you to take your new pet home, I returned the next day—ironically, Father's Day—to bring my Fredric back to Happy Valley. And a beautiful friendship was born. It's now been (just about) three years since that auspicious day, and what a full three years it's been!

Because Tung Ng Festival is a Chinese celebration based on the lunar calendar, the Western date fluctuates from one year to the next. In fact, last time, it actually fell at the end of May! At least this year, it's fairly close to the 2015 date. And since I'm flying to Shanghai tomorrow for another week working out of China—meaning I'll be separated from my little mutt for the actual anniversary on Thursday—it seemed appropriate to compensate today, by taking him to his ancestral family home for a day of fun in the sun.

Stanley boy

A lot of my friends were competing in the races this year, including CriCri, and it's always a pleasure to bump into them on Stanley Main Beach before or after their heats. Quite a few of them seemed to emerge victorious in their pursuit, which is also great to learn.

What's more, a duo of recently-minted Villanova alumni, Peter and Alick—who was also a member of the Blue Key Executive Board during his time on campus!—were coincidentally on hand to lend some jollity to the occasion. Peggy put us in touch when she learned about their impending Asian extravaganza before beginning new careers in Philadelphia and New York, respectively, and it was great fun to show them around Stanley.

VU does Stanley

As I explained to Peter, I like to "hop around" during Dragon Boat Festival, usually starting on the beach for the morning qualifiers, with its high tide and air of mayhem. Still, after awhile, the crowds do get a bit tiresome, and that's when I take the opportunity to migrate to the other side of the Stanley Peninsula to soak up the relatively relaxed vibes of the well-known market and promenade.

Morning crowds on Stanley Main Beach

Today, the three of us wound up enjoying a quick breakfast of noodle soup, peanut butter toast and other-worldly yuenyeung (a mix of milk tea and coffee) at the town's most famous dai pai dong before indulging in one celebratory Tsing Tao on the waterfront before the boys had to head back to Central, since they were both moving on to their next holiday destinations later in the evening. 

After depositing them at the local taxi stand, I retraced my steps back along the promenade to Ma Hang Park, where a hidden little dog-friendly beach sits at the bottom of a steep staircase. There, I made a few new friends, took a dip in the cool waters and read a bit as the afternoon wore on. 

My perennial favorite restaurant in Stanley was always Lucy's, a delightful Mediterranean eatery a few steps off the market. While the strip of bars along the waterfront wins in terms of views, the food is generally mediocre and expensive, while Lucy's sacrifices the sea vista for stellar cuisine. 

Thus, it was with great sadness last summer that Lucy's announced its closure after twenty years! Although I had heard it was being taken over and re-named Henry's, I was a little skeptical the high quality would remain. Luckily, it seems like the name was literally all that has changed. The very friendly waitress who served me today said that the cook and all staff were retained, and the menu was identical to the one the last time I visited. And, mercifully, the food was still tops! 

On a veritable high after my late lunch, I returned to Main Beach, with plenty of room now that the tide had gone out. Bumping into friends and watching the iconic races, Fredric and I had a blast celebrating this third anniversary.

The veritable buzz that transforms the sleepy south side hamlet into a raucous carnival once a year is the best way I could possibly imagine toasting to the past three years, and all the memories that are left to come!

Cheers, Fredric, and many happy returns of the day!

Requiem for American Restaurant

Every now and then, we lose a mainstay of Hong Kong life, and the city's inhabitants shed a communal tear before moving on. Back in 2014, my local pub, The Chapel, shut its doors for the final time, facing an impossible rent increase from a greedy landlord. In 2016, South China Morning Post ceased publication of its iconic weekly periodical, HK Magazine, a purported victim of the internet age and modern times. Alas, 2018 has decided to continue the "even year curse," for this morning, I learned some very sad news: American Restaurant, one of my top Hong Kong eateries—and a true classic—is suffering the same fate.

My twenty-sixth birthday party in 2012

What's worse, we won't even get a chance to say a proper goodbye, one grand last meal to toast all the good times. You see, the restaurant closed months ago for what we were told were mere renovations. I couldn't wait for it to open again, but unfortunately, I was clinging to a false hope. For whatever reason—the official explanation has not yet been given—the Wan Chai favorite is not re-opening. After sixty-eight years of hosting locals, expats and tourists alike, American Restaurant is no more.

It was a regular crowd pleaser when my out-of-town guests came to visit, and I always found the place to insert it on their itineraries. In fact, just last night I was working on plans for my next globetrotter, Maddie, who's planning a zippy trip at the start of August. And Friday night dinner was meant to be one of those grand group affairs on Lockhart Road.

There was no better way to start a Saturday night.

I've been frequenting this place since pretty much the start of my Hong Kong adventures. I read about it in my Frommer's guide during those early days and took the opportunity to visit right away. Its review was all the incentive I needed:

"Despite its name, the American Restaurant has served hearty Pekingese food since it opened right after World War II. Little changed over the decades and often filled with noisy, celebratory patrons, it has an English menu listing almost 200 dishes but the perennial favorites have always been barbecued Peking duck, beggar's chicken, sizzling prawns and the sizzling beef hot plate..." 

The story goes that the confusing moniker was a 1950s marketing ploy to lure Yankee sailors whose ships were often anchored in Victoria Harbour, so they'd feel welcome entering the place during their port calls. I guess it worked, and in time, the restaurant's reputation grew so sterling that hardly a Hong Kong guide book was printed that didn't recommend it. Over the next nearly nine years since my first dinner, it was never long between meals. And the memories are seemingly endless.

Sizzling prawns and mutton with my dad and sister

My mother and I enjoyed a dinner there in 2010, while my dad and sister got to visit a few days after my thirtieth birthday. And, appropriately, when my friend Samantha and her navy friends had a port call in Hong Kong in 2011, this was the natural spot for a farewell feast just before they had to return to their ship.

With Sam and her Navy friends in 2011

In 2012, I met Sarah—who would become one of my best pals—for the first time at a Friday night dinner convened by our mutual friend Ally, whom Sarah was visiting from England. When Rusty and Britney came here in 2013, their time in town coincided with the weekend trip of a quartet of Villanova freshman studying abroad in Singapore. Of course, I took the opportunity to unite Wildcats across generations, mixed with a healthy dose of my Hong Kong friends. That meal, as usual, was pure magic.

Dinner at American Restaurant was always a hoot!

And I still remember Jen heroically cracking open the beggar's chicken when she and Shea came to Hong Kong in 2015, kicking off a Wednesday evening in Wan Chai that naturally delineated into a major night on the town.

Cracking open the beggar's chicken like a pro!

I coordinated a veritable smorgasbord there when Joe came to visit in January 2016, and I was back again when Ryan, Mary, Pat and Kevin were in town a couple of months later. And whenever an old timer returned to Hong Kong after having moved somewhere else in the world, this was usually the venue for the reunion. It was just so loved by, well, by everyone. 

How the sizzling platter usually ended each meal: empty

In fact, it's the only restaurant that's hosted more than one of my Hong Kong birthday parties, as I organized both my 2012 and 2014 gatherings on the cacophonous second floor. It was also the venue for the celebration of both the second and third anniversaries of my arrival in Hong Kong, the latter on the more hushed ground floor—but a repast to remember nonetheless.

My twenty-eighth birthday dinner in 2014

The menu was indeed colossal, but after a visit or three, you figured out your favorites. And as it turned out, Frommer was right all along. Peking duck was the stalwart, and no meal was complete without the delicious, slightly oily fowl wrapped in light pancakes with plum sauce, scallion and cucumber.

Peking duck!

The chili prawns were truly the stuff of legend, poured by the waiter onto a scorching pewter platter with a deafening, spicy sizzle, often inducing coughs among the diners huddled round those enormous tables. Its less peppery cousin, the sizzling beef—another favorite—was equally photogenic.

The cough-inducing cloud of chili from the sizzling prawns

And then there was the beggar's chicken, always the most dramatic of main courses, which needed to be pre-ordered at least a day in advance. It was cooked overnight in clay, so the guest of honor had to wield a cumbersome mallet, smashing the round bundle to reveal the delicious contents ensconced within.

Another beggar's chicken

Rare for a Chinese restaurant, even dessert here was unforgettable, assuming, of course, that you exercised some level of restraint while ordering your mains and had enough room left for it: candied apple and banana dumplings, piping hot to start but briefly dunked by your waiter in ice water before serving, so that the outer shell was cool but the fruit inside still warm and gooey.

Candied apple and banana dumplings

Yes, this place will be sorely missed, and I'll go to sleep tonight hoping I awake in the morning to discover the past day was just a horrible nightmare. And perhaps in my dreams, I'll once again be feasting with all my family and friends on some of the most delectable food I've ever had the good fortune to enjoy.

Thanks for the memories, American Restaurant!