Fredric Hits Four and Other Summer Celebrations

It's late June in Hong Kong, and you know what that means. The heat and humidity are in full force. What do the weathermen say? Air you can wear? That's not a bad description, but I'm mostly either in a climate controlled setting or donning shorts, flip flops and a t-shirt, so I'm relishing summer at the moment.

Happy Valley Sunset

I do hate, though, when I board the ding ding at the Happy Valley terminus, and we just sit there for ten minutes before getting a move on. You see, once we're gliding over the tracks, coasting east or west along the northern shore of Hong Kong Island, it's a lovely feeling, with a balmy breeze flowing through the tram's large open windows. 

But if it's poorly timed, with a long wait until departure, it's an awful, sweaty stretch of minutes. When I run a finger across my brow to remove the gathered droplets, it looks like rain when I flick it out the window. That's probably a bit of a graphic description, and fairly disgusting, but it's also perfectly accurate. 

But apart from small moments like that, it's great to be back in Hong Kong. 

As you know, I recently returned from a visit to the States, the catalyst behind which was my ten year Villanova reunion but also included that already-documented romp around Boston and Cape Cod. Well, the trip concluded with nine days spread between New Jersey in New York under the gloriousness of an East Coast summer.

Waterfront promenade in Keyport, New Jersey

Whether hitting up old haunts from my youth, or sipping craft beers in my dad's backyard, or feasting on favorite foods that are just impossible to track down out in Hong Kong, there were many highlights.

Craft beer in the backyard

There were bagel sandwiches, and pizzas, and home-cooked meals by my old man. We watched Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, listened to classical music, dusted off old memories as we cleaned the house, and cruised around Middlesex and Monmouth Counties, visiting places that are indescribably sentimental for yours truly.

Bacon, egg and cheese on a sesame bagel

Not far from my dad's house, a short drive down Route 35 in Colts Neck, is a glorious market appropriately named Delicious Orchards. We've been going there as long as I can remember, and for my money, it's Monmouth's—if not New Jersey's—finest food store. Gosh, is the place special.

Visiting with my dad is a treat no matter the season. We linger over the pie counter where they dish out freshly-baked goods, as the friendly ladies describe the varieties on offer that day. I always strike up a conversation with the cheesemonger, as I search for a creamy blue or seek out the perfect Manchego. And the samples in the produce room never fail to put a smile on my face, from cups of fresh apple cider to slices of plump, luscious tomatoes.

Tomato selection at Delicious Orchards

Oh, man, the tomatoes! I had more than my fair share of those Jersey gems during that Tuesday visit, and you can bet we filled a bag to take home. The corner of the world where I was fortunate to grow up is appropriately famous for them, and few things signify a New Jersey summer more. Many would say, you've never had a tomato until you have a Jersey tomato from Delicious Orchards. I count myself among them. I actually have friends who think I dislike tomatoes because they've seen me toss them aside from a burger or salad (or refrain from having them added in the first place). The truth is I'm so damn spoiled by places like Delicious Orchards, that few tomatoes I've ever had outside of Jersey have been worth my time. So I don't even bother.

Heaven

I had a work meeting in New York City on Wednesday morning, and I took the opportunity to catch a matinee afterwards. I had really wanted to see Glenda Jackson in King Lear, but the show, which was originally supposed to run a few more weeks, closed early due to poor ticket sales. I only discovered this when I walked by the Cort Theatre en route to my client's office and saw a theatrical moving company loading a truck on West 48th Street, plus a notice posted on the front door.

Notice outside the Cort Theater

Instead, I opted to see Arthur Miller's All My Son's, with Annette Bening and Tracy Letts, revived by the Roundabout Theater Company. I snagged a great seat from TKTS in Times Square and really enjoyed the show. It's a downer to be sure, and a dark one at that, but the intense performances from the whole cast and the realistic production really transported me to post-World War II Ohio. It was a potent afternoon at the theater.

View of West 45th Street

I had a Manhattan at Sardi's afterwards... Naturally... Where else can you sip a post-curtain cocktail while striking up a conversation with the patron on the bar stool to your right about every show currently playing on Broadway? 

That night, Heidi suggested we take in the New York Philharmonic's annual summertime concert in Central Park, which included works by Rossini, Copland and Rachmaninoff. Thanks to friends of friends who had arrived at the Great Lawn at 8am that morning to set up shop, we had an incredible spot, even though we plopped down about fifteen minutes before the show started!

New York Philharmonic in Central Park

The whole thing concluded with a thunderous fireworks display, and although I wasn't dead set on attending the concert when Heidi first brought it up, by its conclusion, I was utterly delighted we had spent the evening in such a memorable fashion. I like New York in June, how about you?

Post-concert fireworks in the park

Two days later, back in New Jersey, my sister Danielle and I treated my dad to an early Father's Day dinner in Keyport, at our local favorite, Burlew's, on a peerless Friday evening, with clear skies looking straight across to the Verrazano and the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

Clear views from Keyport

We shared fresh oysters and fried clams to start, feasted on fresh fish for our mains, and capped it all off with Key lime pie for dessert. And, not wanting to squander the exquisite weather, we lingered on the waterfront promenade after our meal.

Delicious fried clams at Burlew's

I even managed to fit in a night out down the Shore, because on Saturday, Danii invited me to Donovan's Reef in Sea Bright with a few of her friends. No matter how long I base my life in Asia—and no matter where I head next, or even if I never again wind up living long term in my home state—Central Jersey will always remain the most special place in the world to me. And I was so glad to bask in its unique magnificence that evening.

Me and Danii at Donovan's Reef

When I saw that Father's Day was falling a mere week after the Villanova Reunion, I never seriously considered rushing back to Asia. There was no way I was missing the holiday with my dad, and we spent the day in Brooklyn with family. The celebration, including hot dogs, spinach and artichoke dip, strawberry short cake and cannoli, nicely meshed with my cousin Joseph's eighteenth birthday and high school graduation. And, excitedly for me, he's headed to Villanova in the fall, a proud member of the Class of 2023! I'm ecstatic to have another Wildcat in the family!

Brooklyn cannoli 

I spent the night in Manhattan afterwards, hanging out with my favorite knickerbockers, Heidi and Rusty, as we popped into a speakeasy and played music in Rusty's new backyard. It was a perfect day, spending time with both family and friends—all the people I miss most when I'm so far away.

Cruising into Manhattan

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it turned into a pretty late night, including a post-bar pizza pit stop. For some unexplained reason, we felt a need to document the occasion with a snapshot. My phone, in an unprompted tattle tale, informed us the following morning that the photo was taken at 4:22am.

Late night (early morning?) pizza

Before heading back to Matawan via New Jersey Transit that next day, Heidi and I paid a visit to Tracks in Penn Station, the famous raw bar that is sadly closing at the end of the summer. Barring some miracle, I guess it was my final time in the dimly-lit, nostalgia-infused spot, so I nicked a plate—its outer rim encircled by a railroad track motif—to remember the occasion.

Oysters at Tracks

Like that, it was my last full day in the States. These trips always go so fast, like summer itself in that part of the world. Danii, her friend Christina, my dad and I had one last dinner together at another local haunt, the Pine Tavern, on Tuesday evening before my flight. There wasn't a bit of the fantastic baked goat cheese left on the plate, nor did my rare burger survive more than a few minutes.

Sammy's baked goat cheese at the Pine Tavern

I did wind up taking the bulk of a rather large side order of macaroni and cheese with me on the plane, and it made for a great mid-flight snack, since I awoke with longer than usual until landing. Watching episodes of Frasier, Modern Family, New Girl and Friday Night Dinner, I hardly cared. 

So, yes, it was a great trip home.

Manhattan morning

I arrived back in Hong Kong a little over a week ago, just in time to mark the fourth anniversary of the day I brought my beloved Fredric home to Happy Valley after having first laid eyes on him one day earlier at the Stanley SPCA.

The perfect timing wasn't just happenstance. You may recall that last year, I was on a work trip to the Mainland for our big day, and I didn't want to desert my pal two years in a row. I had noted the date before I booked my tickets, and I fixed the return leg so I'd arrive the day before our anniversary. And I'm so glad I did.

I got him a doggie dumpling from the Bark Department, a ritzy pet store around the corner from my place in Happy Valley. (Even the packaging was luxe.) And I actually had to steam it properly on the stove before it was ready for consumption. This, in and of itself, is supremely ironic, because apart from making popcorn from time to time, this was the only thing I've cooked in my kitchen for God knows how long.

Fredric's ritzy dumpling container

But nothing is too good for that mutt. I dutifully got the large wok out from my bottom cabinet, filled it with water, lit the stove and placed the bundled banana leaf-wrapped morsel in my steamer, which I in turn placed over the bubbles, keeping an eye on the whole thing for close to half an hour.

Steaming on the stove top

He seemed to enjoy it, since he wolfed the whole thing down in a matter of seconds. I served it to the little buddy on our rooftop, as a large group of friends gathered that Saturday evening to mark the impending departure of one of our flock, Gargi, whose time in Hong Kong has sadly come to an end as her work takes her to Singapore.

Chowing down

The night passed in a memorable blur, with great friends, great food and a few too many drinks. The first rooftop barbecue of the summer came and went, and I hope to host many more. My roof was a mess the next morning, to be sure, but the experience was entirely worth it.

Rooftop barbecue

The next day, one of my best Hong Kong friends, Chun, turned thirty-three, so we treated him to a hearty Brazilian brunch at a churrascaria called Braza in Lan Kwai Fong, followed by drinks in nearby Tai Kwun.

Happy birthday, Chun!

We had our first round at the al fresco Armoury and our second in the cleverly named Behind Bars, a watering hole hidden inside one of the old cell blocks! You see, I'm still making good on that mid-year resolution to spend as much time in the restored police compound as possible!

A round of drinks Behind Bars

One of my favorite things upon any return to Hong Kong—after reuniting with Fredric and catching up with friends, of course—is indulging in fantastic Asian food. You see, I have an unwritten rule that for about two weeks after any Stateside visit, I refrain from eating American cuisine. So since I touched down I've been feasting on dumplings and rice and noodles and char siu and kebabs and pad Thai and curries.

And you better believe I got straight back into racing mode on Wednesday, too, though none of my bets hit. And I even caught a special screening of Rebel Without a Cause over in Kowloon Tong earlier this evening with my friend Danijela, part of a retrospective of the films of Nicholas Ray. We followed it up with a stroll around Mong Kok, so you can see, I jumped right into Hong Kong life upon my return, jet lag be damned.

Mongkok glow

Yes, both the second half of my trip home and the first ten days since my return to Hong Kong have seen many noteworthy moments, and I am really excited for more summer adventures as the heat and humidity kick into high gear!

What a Weekend! The Sequel

As sentimental millennials, my generation loves a little schmaltz. And nowadays, it is just so darn easy for us to revisit the past. All the songs we sang along to on the car radio back in the '90s are instantly accessible via YouTube, the television sitcoms of our youth can be streamed on Hulu in a moment, and communication with our childhood friends—regardless of the geographical distances that physically separate us—is almost effortless with the technological advances made possible by Facebook, Gmail and Skype. 

But there's nothing quite so nostalgic as real, live, personal interaction with faces from our past to remind us of the glories of our salad days. So I guess it's no surprise how over-the-top we go for events like a college reunion. Last weekend, I returned to the Villanova campus green to gather with all my fellow Wildcats from the Class of 2009, for an incredible multi-day fiesta, looking back on the decade that's passed since we graduated from our beloved alma mater.

My friends in Hong Kong were all incredulous when I told them about my impending trip. 

"Wait, you are flying all the way back to the United States for a ten year school party? Nobody would do that in Europe." 

"I don't even keep in touch with anybody from my university."

"That is so weird. You are so weird." 

But for me, it was never even an option to skip out. Ever since our five year reunion in 2014, I've been looking forward to the sequel. And this past weekend, when it opened in theaters, I was first in line for a ticket. 

As my Amtrak neared 30th Street Station last Thursday, chugging past Boat House Row and the Philadelphia Museum of Art, an indescribable wave of emotion washed over me. It was almost unreal how excited I was.

I had toyed with the idea of spending some time in Philly upon my arrival, but my legs eagerly carried me straight to the R5 ticket counter, where I paid my fare to take me to Villanova. 

Moments later, I was on an express train. Before I knew it, we had arrived.

The place has definitely changed (read: expanded) since I last laid eyes on it back in 2014, but it's still undeniably gorgeous. I checked in, dropped my bags in the apartment we had reserved on West Campus, and took a wander.

While ducking into the church, my buddy Jimmy called to forge a plan, and shortly thereafter, he and our friend Christine picked me up in their Uber on the corner of Lancaster and Ithan, as we cruised to the Grog in Bryn Maw, just across the street from my senior year home.

Thursdays were a special night for us back in those days. The Grog had a promotion for USD 3 Long Island Iced Teas. And everybody in our class met there pretty much every week. Alas, times have changed, and prices have risen. But USD 10 Long Islands were obviously in order as the three of us caught up in the retro setting, later joined by a fourth friend, Kevin.

Another of the Main Line watering holes that was firmly affixed to our weekly schedule back then was Kelly's, a much larger bar slightly closer to campus. Kelly's was our perennial Tuesday night spot, with their USD 1 drink special. But its large size and convenient location meant it was the sort of place we'd also gather on plenty of other occasions, sometimes before or after heading elsewhere. So it didn't even feel a little bit strange to show our IDs to the bouncer at the door and enter the cavernous space.

Any Villanova class is always more than welcome to attend the annual June reunion weekend, with a special emphasis placed on those celebrating "milestone" anniversaries (i.e. five years, ten years, fifteen years, etc.). So we made friends with some other alumni from the Classes of '99 and '04, as we downed a few pints overlooking Lancaster Avenue. It was a reminder than Villanovans across generations all share an ineffable bond.

We finished up our night back at the Grog, with one final round of Long Islands and the eagerly anticipated arrival of my pal Joe, who met us there just as last call was announced. I must say, as great as it was to catch up with everybody, there's something slightly jarring to me, after nearly a decade of life in a city with no government-mandated closing time, to be told a privately-owned establishment is prohibited from staying open past the absurdly early hour of 2 o'clock in the morning. Still, I suppose it enabled me to get some rest and ensured I was up and at 'em the next day.

Friday started at Nudy's, easily the best breakfast spot in the vicinity. You probably remember my old 'Nova professor, Peggy, who coordinated my summer study abroad program in London in 2006 and has since been to Hong Kong multiple times on school trips. Well, as fate would have it, Peggy was flying out to the UK that evening—yes, thirteen years since my own program, she still leads a troupe of Wildcats across the Pond each summer—so we had to take advantage of our brief overlap. 

A crab meat omelet and side order of scrapple in Nudy's outdoor patio, coupled with a fantastic conversation with Peggy, made it a morning to remember. Even the short drive back and forth from campus to the restaurant, through the charming towns of Radnor and Wayne, made for sentimental cruising.

We passed the Wayne Hotel, where my parents stayed the weekend they checked me in for Freshman Orientation, back in August 2005. That first night, they filled out a reservation form, which saw them booking a room for every major event for the next four years. And that's where they stayed most Parents' Weekends and Singer's Concerts and even graduation itself.

And there was Margaret Kuo's, for my money, still the best Chinese restaurant this side of the Suez Canal, and a spot we went for dinner pretty much every time my family came up to visit. I still judge all Peking ducks against the one there. 

On the right, we passed the Anthony Wayne Theater, a gorgeous art deco cinema... 

On the left, I spied Minnella's Diner, a twenty-four hour greasy spoon...

Both still there. But I saw some changes, too. 

No more Cream and Sugar, the best coffee shop in town. And I couldn't find Aux Petits Delices, a French bakery with otherworldly palmiers and cookies, though Google tells me it's still around, and that I just missed it. There was so much to look at on both sides of the street, I guess you can forgive me. 

Back on campus, I popped into Bartley Hall, home to the Villanova School of Business, where I found Dean German, one of my favorite administrators. And then I met Joe and Rusty—who had since arrived—by the Oreo, the iconic statue in the center of campus. We popped into Kennedy Hall, home to the book store, where we loaded up on 'Nova gear.

And then we walked to Gullifty's, another old haunt, where we had some al fresco local beers. We tried out a new spot, too, a shisha joint in our 'Nova days, now called the Tin Lizard Brewing Company, with an open rooftop deck and home crafted beers. It's proof positive that some changes are for the better. I only wish it had been around back in 2009. We whiled away the afternoon in the pleasant setting.

Once Friday night was upon us, most people had had a chance to arrive and settle in. Villanova designates certain off-campus venues as the Class Meet-Up for individual graduation years. Funnily enough, the Class of 2009 was assigned to the Grog, so I wound up back there for a second night in a row. Since it would seem odd to drink anything other than a Long Island Iced Tea in the place, I didn't even consider another option.

And then the faces started appearing. Not the ones I see regularly on any given trip home, but those with whom I'd sadly lost touch. And it was like a tap had been opened, suddenly spurting out an unending cascade of memories. With each familiar character, a name long forgotten suddenly came back to the tongue. And with it, recollections of college parties, inside jokes, early morning classes, Philly excursions, boozy spring breaks. Free flow nostalgia.

Saturday's Alumni Picnic might actually be the single highlight of the whole weekend, especially if you're blessed with glorious weather, as we were that day. It's similar to the meet up the night before at the Grog, except instead of being crammed in to a tiny space, the entire center of campus is set up with buffets and bars.

From the Quad to the Grotto, everybody spread out in the wonderful sunshine, grabbing beers and hot dogs, looking for that next memory to relive. I saw so many great people, caught up on so many exciting developments, met so many kids, so many spouses. It was pure perfection.

Later that evening, as the twilight shadows gathered, we made our way to the Pavilion, for the classy SuperNova dinner, with formal dress, live music and strong drinks.

We turned it into a late night back on West Campus afterwards. It seemed like the rest of our hallway was also taken up by '09ers, and we kept our doors opened and hopped around from room to room. There were sing-a-longs, and further catch-ups, and it all really felt like old times. I remember when this was our life, and now, we get to revisit it once every five years. 

Sunday is a sad day. The whole thing just goes far too quickly. The latent promises of Thursday crescendo throughout Friday and almost explode on Saturday. Alas, then it all dissipates that next morning as people head home. I didn't even really get to say goodbye to most of them, my last memories being the blurry melee of shots and songs that followed the SuperNova dinner. I was reminded of that cheesy poster that advises, "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."

And smile I did. All these years later, Villanova is still a huge part of my life. Don't get me wrong. I'm definitely not one of those people who wistfully refers to college as "the best four years of life." But my time at Villanova was certainly an amazing four years. And what profoundly important, foundational years they were. Without Villanova, I can't see myself living where I am now. And the relationships I made there remain among the closest I have.

So I love knowing that every five years, as our world changes and our lives move forward, the loyal heirs of Villanova's Class of 2009 will perpetually return to the campus green to bask in each other's glorious company, and to remind ourselves how lucky we were to call this place home from 2005 to 2009. I love you guys, and I treasure these friendships! See you all in 2024!

ONCE A WILDCAT, ALWAYS A WILDCAT!