All About All Hallow's Eve

Happy Almost Halloween from Hong Kong!

I got back only forty-eight hours ago from a nearly three week trip to the USA, which saw adventures in five states: New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Arizona! That means that I got to spend the bulk of the month in the land of the free and the home of the brave, indulging in all our Halloween traditions.

Yes, from Salem to Sleepy Hollow, from haunted houses to creepy storytelling, from candy corn to apple cider donuts, and even decorating the guest room in my dad's home with all our nostalgic old decorations, it was about as perfect a pre-Halloween as I could have asked for.

And don't worry! There were plenty of non-macabre memories being made as well, like reuniting with old buddies, witnessing the beautiful marriage of my friends Christina and Clement in Arizona and celebrating my cousin Julian's confirmation!

As I sit here in my apartment in Happy Valley on All Hallow's Eve Eve—with candles all aflame, about to switch on Bride of Frankenstein—I am so full of memories of a great Halloween season, that I know 2019 will go down in the record books as one of my ultimate macabre fantasies!

I think you all know that I'm about as big a Halloween freak as can be. Last year, I couldn't even wait for October to roll around before festooning my apartment, but this year, I held firm. Kind of. On the evening of 30 September, after getting home from work, I took all my Halloween decorations out from their sundry hiding places and loaded them atop various tables around the flat. And then, at the stroke of midnight, I put them in their proper positions.

I must say, I have a crazy amount of devilish delights, and it really amazes me that I have sufficient storage to keep them in clandestine hibernation eleven months of the year. I even visited Mong Kok and Prince Edward no fewer than three times over the past five weeks, loading up on even more goods. But I can't resist, and by now, I'm resigned to the fact that a fair amount of my disposable income will go towards Halloween decorations in any given year.

Of course, the film screenings started the very next day, with my perennial opener, Hocus Pocus. Frustratingly, my LG television has stopped working, so I've temporarily resorted to viewing movies on my laptop. But nothing can dampen the joy of watching Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Najimy as three colonial-era witches wreaking havoc in modern day Salem!

Another early October highlight this year was the annual blessing of the animals at Saint John's Cathedral. Again, I brought Fredric to the touching service, and we took our traditional ferry ride to Mui Wo on Lantau Island afterwards, for a Turkish feast at Bahce Restaurant. In spite of some pretty significant drizzles, it was a wonderful afternoon.

While walking back to Happy Valley after returning to Hong Kong Island, we encountered a protest firsthand. It was the only time for me so far where I've found myself in the middle of a confrontation between police and demonstrators.

Tear gas had obviously been fired fifteen minutes or so earlier, the lingering vapors burning my throat and nostrils as I tried to forge through the crowds. Eventually, we got back to Happy Valley safe and sound, where all was peaceful and calm. But it was jarring to see Wan Chai—in fact, the specific area I called home from December 2009 to November 2011—in such a state.

The next morning, I noticed a rash on my left hand, especially my index, middle and ring fingers. My first thought was that I may have touched poison ivy or some other weed, but a colleague at work observed that my breakout looked suspiciously similar to that seen on many a protester. And then it hit me! I must have inadvertently made contact with tear gas residue while walking through Wan Chai the day before.

Over the next days and weeks, the blisters expanded and spread before finally dying down. While never exactly painful, they were exceedingly annoying, and as I sat on the plane headed from Hong Kong to Newark, I wondered whether an immigration officer might notice them and deny me entry to the United States. Luckily, no such trouble occurred!

Having arrived back in the States just in the nick of time for Halloween itself the previous two years, I decided that this go-around, I'd land plenty early, so as to properly soak up all the mayhem that goes along with what is a full season of gruesome fun in the good old US of A. And so, it was only 9 October when I touched down in my home state, ready to throw myself wholeheartedly into American Halloween.

And, boy, did I ever!

But it wasn't all Halloween adventures. In fact, the first order of business was more official in nature. You see, during the ten year reunion at Villanova back in June, I was invited to join the Young Alumni Dean's Advisory Counsel for the Villanova School of Business, of which my good friend Ryan is also a member. The Counsel convenes twice a year, once in New York and once on campus. And although attendance isn't mandatory, I really wanted to show up for my first meeting!

Since Ryan would be driving up to Villanova the next day and offered to give me a ride, I headed straight from Newark Airport to New York Penn Station, where we linked up. We then caught a New Jersey Transit to the suburb where he, his wife Marybeth and their adorable daughter Maddie live, and I got to spend a night with old friends, reading stories to the little one, eating a delicious home-cooked chicken dinner, and drinking copious amounts of wine.

Early the next morning, we were on route to Villanova. It was slightly odd, because between our five year reunion in 2014 and the ten year one back in June, I hadn't set foot upon the campus. A part of me wouldn't have been surprised if it took until 2024 for my next visit. Yet here I was, a mere four months later, returning to dear old alma mater.

Something felt especially nice about seeing the campus filled with students. You see, at the reunions, alumni rule the roost. Don't get me wrong: that's absolutely amazing. But there's also an element distinctly missing without youngsters studying on benches, friends throwing a Frisbee around the Quad, students rushing to class with their backpacks. So to suddenly see the campus the way I remember it being from 2005 to 2009 was exceedingly comforting. At reunion, I'm often reminded of how much things have changed, but that day, I couldn't help noting that most aspects of campus life seem to exist exactly they were in my salad days.

Ryan headed back home that afternoon after our meeting, but I had decided long ago I would linger. I booked a room at the Wayne Hotel, and my friend Christine—a fellow alum from the class of 2009 who now works for the university—drove me there from campus.

After dropping my bag, we then headed straight to Bryn Mawr, where my buddy Jimmy—another '09er—and his wife Lauren, who live in the area, also came out to join us. And Christine's husband Nick eventually linked up with us, as well. We stopped by the Tin Lizard Brewing Company, then made our way to the Grog and, finally, ended up at Kelly's. It was a whale of a night, a throwback to the good old days, and exactly the experience I had hoped for.

Trusty Peggy picked me up at the Wayne the next morning and whisked me to Nudy's for breakfast. It's always great to catch up with her, whether on her fairly frequent visits to Hong Kong or when I find myself back in her neck of the woods, and I'm glad we had yet another opportunity to catch up.

I also loaded up on delicious baked goods at Aux Petits Delices, just across the street from my hotel. Whenever my parents came to visit me during my college days, they always stayed at the Wayne, and a stop at the high quality French bakery was mandatory. So it was a real throwback to step through it's doors and spend a small fortune on some of the most beautiful and delicious cookies I've ever seen.

After an amazing Chinese lunch at local Asian favorite Margaret Kuo with two professors, Dr. Mao and Prof. Young, and a current student, all of whom I met in Hong Kong during a summer abroad program in Hong Kong, I was headed back to the Big Apple, but what an exceptional return to Villanova!

A major focus of this trip was to take full advantage of all of the region's Halloween-time offerings. And just a few days later, my sister and I drove up to Passaic to meet my cousin Chris and his son Julian to visit the notorious Brighton Asylum, reportedly one of the most terrifying haunted attractions in the whole country!

We had an amazing dinner beforehand in Clifton at the Barrow House, a restored farmhouse strewn with antiques and other curious, with incredibly tasty farm-to-table specialties. The service was top-notch, and I only wish we had arrived even earlier, to truly linger over the wonderful feast. But it was a meal to remember.

And then we hit up the asylum itself, wandering through the intricately detailed rooms, as ghouls and goblins all jumped out at us. At one point, zombie doctors and nurses from a haunted hospital pushed me through a cobwebbed corridors in a wheelchair, saying they were taking me to an experimental operating room for an urgent surgery. It was great fun!

In addition to the haunted house itself, entry also included bonus attractions, including a mini-museum with props from popular horror movies, an axe-throwing experience and an escape room! It was phenomenal to spend such a memorable evening with Danii, Chris and Julian, and because one of the staff members told us they even do haunted Christmas, Valentine's Day and Saint Patrick's Day, I have a feeling my first visit to the Brighton Asylum won't be my last!

A major highlight of this trip was my pit stop in the witchcraft capital of the world! Like many of my visits to the USA, this one was a combination of work and pleasure, and because a favorite clients is located in Boston, a side journey up to Beantown often creeps onto my itinerary.

Well, since hotels in Boston were overly expensive anyway, this time I opted to spend the night  in a charming AirBnB in neighboring Salem only a short train or ferry ride away. And, boy, was it a good decision! The town, as I'm sure you'd assume, goes crazy for Halloween. Heck, even visits during the summer and spring revolve around witches, but to explore the place in October is truly an experience.

After my meeting in Boston, I managed to fit in a lunch and beer break with my good friend Amanda, and then I took the train from North Station—alas, the ferries weren't running that day due to strong  winds—for a mere twenty minutes, before alighting in Witch City.

I loved just wandering the old cobbled streets, popping into artist's studios and antique shops, and passing curious attractions, like the so-called Witch's House, the Samantha Stephens statue from Bewitched, and local landmarks that feature prominently in Hocus Pocus.

One of the nicest things to see around Salem is how into Halloween decorating all the townsfolk seem to get. Maybe it's a requirement to buy or rent property there. But every house and shop was in at least some way decked for the season, and a few seemed to take their displays to a whole new level!

In fact, I feel like I could devote a whole blog entry to my not-quite-twenty-four-hours there, from my charming hostess, Marcie—and the historic lodging she calls home—to the intriguing sights all over town. The mansion was built around 1834, and has housed various members of three of Salem's most distinguished families: the Dodges, the Bertrams and the Whipples. I felt undeniably lucky to spend a night within its storied walls.

Marcie told me during an introductory tour that she wasn't seriously considering buying the property when she learned it was up for sale. She was just curious to know how it looked inside, after passing its impressive facade so often over the years. So she arranged a viewing simply to get a peak at its interiors, before being so entirely won over that she and her husband made an offer!

Marcie also recommended the restaurant that would serve as my dinner venue that night, Ledger, on Washington Street, Salem's main thoroughfare. Situated in an old bank, with faultless service and a divine menu, the eatery was on par with world-class restaurants I've visited in major cities across the globe. That it's located in a town of barely forty thousand is a testament to the cosmopolitan nature of tiny Salem.

I eschewed a main course and instead designed my own appetizer assortment for one: hot-from-the-oven popovers with herb garlic butter and beef drippings, incredible Brussels sprouts with Parmesan cheese, yellowfin tuna tartare scooped up with root vegetable chips, and a spicy pork belly with honey and pickled apples that I'll be dreaming about for weeks. I also had a Ledger Hot Toddy, a warming mixture of rum, applejack, cinnamon and bitters. It was a perfect compliment to the tasty food, and an even better antidote to the New England cold. I capped it all off with apple cider churros and a scoop of candy corn ice cream because, why not?

It was a glorious fall Friday when I awoke the next day, a morning jaunt around town thus obligatory. I walked from Marcie's all the way to the Salem waterfront, where I confirmed the ferry to Boston would indeed be running that afternoon (and bought my ticket). I also spotted the House of the Seven Gables, the Salem Custom House and one of country's oldest candy purveyors, Ye Olde Pepper Companie, where I later loaded up on candy corn, Gibralters—the first commercially made confectionery in America—and Blackjacks.

I also squeezed in some slightly rushed souvenir shopping. The night before, I had found a store called Hive and Forge, selling genuine apothecary bottles from a nineteenth-century drugstore. Down on Artist's Row, I then met a Turkish ceramicist named Sibel, who's atelier-cum-shop was chock full of porcelain witch hats, all doubling as candle holders.

I fell in love with both and returned to each location en route to the ferry that afternoon, selecting an irresistible bottle formerly filled with liquid potassium arsenite from the dozens of specimens on display in the cabinet at Hive and Forge, before finally settling on my witch's hat of choice at Sibel's studio. Both items carefully wrapped, I then ventured back along the waterfront to the pier.

By the time I boarded the ferry at 1pm, I had made up my mind that I'll be visiting Salem again, and soon! What an incredible little slice of historic curiosity, lurking just a short distance from bustling Boston.

Sunday saw a visit to another major Halloween headquarters: Sleepy Hollow. Somehow, although I grew up just outside of New York City—with the world-famous hamlet only a short train ride north of Manhattan—I'd never taken the time to pay a call on Ichabod Crane, Katrina Van Tassel and the Headless Horseman. I rectified this oversight during my recent trip home.

Given wide exposure by Washington Irving in his classic short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow—which is coincidentally celebrating the two hundredth anniversary of its original publication this year—the small town ranks up there with Salem on the shortlist of all-time top Halloween destinations, mostly thanks to that defaced Hessian trooper "whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind."

Truth be told, I just love the tale. I read it every Halloween and have a veritable obsession with it, whether watching Tim Burton's cinematic re-imagining or listening to recordings of Bing Crosby imploring his audience to "gather 'round while I elucidate/on what happens outside when it gets late." So I made it a goal long ago to arrange a sojourn in slumberous Sleepy Hollow during this trip. And I can't believe how easy it was, less than an hour's ride from Grand Central.

Heidi came along for the fun, and, although the weather was decidedly dreary, the thin mist hovering over the Tappan Zee seemed oddly befitting. Multiple people remarked that the less-than-ideal day actually scared off the usual horde of October day-trippers apt to descend upon the supposedly somnolent village during mid-autumn weekends. As it was, the crowds were certainly present but far from overwhelming.

After alighting at Irvington and making a quick pit stop at the local farmer's market for apple cider donuts, we sought out the home of the area's most illustrious resident, Washington Irving himself. Although the Legend was written during his time spent in England, the renowned author later relocated to the countryside where he had set his most popular story. He named his estate Sunnyside, living out the rest of his days there. And what an enchanting cottage it is indeed!

Heidi and I took a tour of the house, wandered the grounds, and had perhaps a little too much fun posing with some photo stand-ins of his most prominent creations: Rip Van Winkle, Ichabod and the Horseman!

Then it was off to Sleepy Hollow itself, about a ten minute drive north. In his Legend, Irving introduces the town in an impossibly lyrical manner:

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow... A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere... The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.

We had lunch at the Hudson Anchor, overlooking the mighty river, where we feasted on calamari and fresh crab cakes. But then Heidi had to make a break for it back to Grand Central to go to choir practice, while I had plans to linger.

I dropped her off at the Tarrytown station and then caught an Uber to a popular bar called Horsefeathers, up on Broadway, where I sampled three or four seasonal brews, the highlight of which was Doc's Pumpkin Cider. It was absolutely astounding, and I was sad never to encounter it again on my perpetual autumnal alcohol quest.

Then, in spite of the weather and undoubtedly influenced by my libations, I decided to walk through drizzly Tarrytown to the Old Dutch Reformed Church of Sleepy Hollow, where I had a ticket to the evening's re-telling of Irving's Legend, performed by master raconteur Jonathan Kruk.

This was life highlight material for me, sitting in the church that actually plays a role in the original tale, with jack o'lanterns flickering and organ accompaniment provided by Jim Keyes. I know the Legend very well, but to hear it told so vividly, was simply spellbinding.

Another member of the audience approached Jonathan after the show, gushing, "You're a national treasure." I wholeheartedly agree. And I'm going to make attending this event a Halloween tradition whenever I'm lucky enough to return to the USA during October.

Afterwards, I had to take yet another Uber back to Sunnyside, because I'd also bought tickets for a nocturnal spectacular called The Sleepy Hollow Experience. I wasn't quite sure what this was all about, as information was pretty scarce. However, the speed at which tickets were selling back in early September compelled me to take a chance and book it. I am so glad that I did.

The Sleep Hollow Experience is an immersive musical performance of Irving's classic, with five main actors moving all over the property as they recount the story of Ichabod Crane and his run in with the Headless Horseman. Laced with very adult humor, phenomenal costumes, catchy tunes and the novelty of wandering about Sunnyside under cover of darkness, following the cast, made for one exceptional night.

Ironically, even though they were recounting the exact same story I had just heard at the Dutch Church, the simplicity of Jonathan Kruk's oratory juxtaposed alongside the melodramatic, over-the-top campiness of the Sleepy Hollow Experience was perfect. These were two such entirely different riffs on the same subject that it was effortlessly enjoyable—and not the slightest bit redundant—to take in both within the span of only a few hours.

That day was proof positive of the durability of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which continues to inspire creative types two hundred years since its first appearance. If you ever have the chance to visit the area in October, believe me, you are in for a treat. Yes, Ichabod, Katrina, Brom Bones and that headless Hessian are alive and well, and living in Sleepy Hollow Country.

As a sort of added bonus, my Uber driver never showed up to whisk me back to Irvington to catch my train. It was only a five minute drive and the train was due in half an hour, so knowing I could just make it on foot, I set off down a dark and secluded dirt path cutting through the woods between Sunnyside and the station.

It was raining harder now, and nearly pitch black, making it tricky to avoid the puddles and mud as I briskly scurried along my way. And I half expected the hear the thundering clomps of galloping hooves coming after me, what with all the tales I'd heard over the past stretch of hours. It was an appropriately eldritch finale to what had turned out to be an exceedingly unforgettable day.

It was almost a painfully perfect autumn morning when I awoke at Heidi's the next day, the Upper West Side fully embracing the glories of the fall, but I couldn't afford to linger. You see, my dear friends from Hong Kong, Christina and Clement, invited me to their wedding in Arizona, which (truth be told) was the major catalyst that had inspired this entire trip to the States in the first place. And so, I had to dutifully make my way to JFK to catch my flight to Phoenix. 

I believe I have previously recorded on this blog the irony that, while I've been fortunate to visit many far flung corners of our world, it always strikes me as odd that I've left large swaths of my home country uncharted. Arizona is proof positive. For although I once flew to California and still recall looking down over the Grand Canyon from thirty thousand feet, I've never made the effort to see the iconic state from ground level. 

Thanks to Christina and Clement, I had a rip-roaring opportunity to change that. 

It was a quick three-day trip, but a memorable one, to be certain. And since you probably need a break from Halloween exploits, how about a little summary of some good old American exploration?

I organized my itinerary to arrive just in time for the rehearsal dinner, held on Monday evening—there are auspicious nuptial dates in Chinese culture, based on the specific biographies of the bride and groom, which don't always fit neatly into our modern day concepts of weekday and weekend!—in the Phoenix suburb of Chandler.

My first night's lodging was sublime: the San Marcos Hotel, originally built in 1912 and now operated by Crowne Plaza. Truth be told, I picked the spot because of its ridiculous proximity to the venue for the rehearsal dinner, but, in hindsight, it would be worth a stay no matter what. 

It was wonderful to immediately feel so welcome in Arizona, as I meandered a few feet from my hotel's front door and was already at San Tan Brewing Company to meet up with the crew. There were old familiar faces and plenty of new ones, and I loved getting to know everybody in this convivial atmosphere. 

I spent some time wandering the grounds of my beautiful hotel before turning in for the night, extremely excited for the day that was to follow, but not wanting to squander the precious little time I had in this magical locale. 

The chilaquiles I wolfed down for breakfast the next morning, easily the best I've sampled since my February extravaganza in Mexico, were a fitting start to an unforgettable day. You see, there was a one day gap between rehearsal dinner and wedding. And my family friends Pat and Arne (whom you may remember from a guest appearance on this blog back in 2012 when they came to visit Hong Kong) live in neighboring Scottsdale. We've kept in touch since their Asia whirlwind, and when I told them I'd be in their neck of the woods, we knew a reunion had to happen. 

Pat and Arne dropped everything to welcome me, picking me up at my hotel (and surprising me with Krispy Kremes!) and driving me three hours north to stunning Sedona. A three hour drive in most places would be a great bore, of course. With Pat and Arne, catching up on all that's gone on since 2012, we could've driven cross country and not run out of things to talk about. Throw in the majestic Arizona scenery, and that journey just dissipated. 

As we neared Sedona, Arne switched on Aaron Copeland's Fanfare for the Common Man while we cruised along a most spectacular stretch of highway. Goosebumps invaded my arms on multiple occasions. You can tell I wasn't Pat and Arne's first visitor the region! They've clearly worked out how best to show off a place they love very much to newbies! 

Just before reaching our luncheon setting—Tii Gavo at the exclusive Enchantment Resort, which just so happened to be the place where Pat and Arne tied the knot—we stopped at a particularly scenic overlook, to get out of the car, stretch our legs, and drink in the majestic vista, like something out of an old John Ford flick. And I instantly understood the special appeal this place holds in the hearts of so many. 

En route back to Phoenix, where I had booked a room in the historic (and, appropriately, apparently haunted) Hotel San Carlos, they even ensured we stopped on the side of the freeway to inspect the monumental saguaro cactus that are so iconic to this corner of the world. It was a tad bittersweet that our reunion was fated to be so brief, but it was an incredibly memorable day. 

Yes, it was a small respite from Halloween I gave you. Because, without realizing it, I jumped straight back in at the San Carlos after Pat and Arne deposited me in front of the hotel! Firstly, the hotel features in the opening shots of Alfred Hitchcock's seminal slasher film Psycho, released in 1960. And, secondly, because across the street, there was a bar hosting a macabre story telling event, which I decided to attend pretty much the moment I found out about it (from a free newsletter I found in the San Carlos' lobby). 

Interspersed between some expert raconteurs were a few musical interludes, including one bit that saw clips from famous horror movies like Halloween and Hocus Pocus as a musician tickled the ivories with their immediately identifiable scores. What luck, not only that my one night in Downtown Phoenix happened to coincide with such a Paul-esque event, but also that I just so happened to find out about its existence through picking up that free pamphlet! 

The next morning, I had two goals. Breakfast and a museum stop before heading to the nuptials! 

I checked off the first of these objectives at Matt's Big Breakfast, within walking distance of the San Carlos, where I indulged in a wonderful French toast with a view of the Westward Ho, a historic skyscraper that was once the tallest building in town. 

Second, I headed to the Heard Museum via Phoenix's metro system. And this place was just incredible. The Heards—Dwight B. and his wife Maie—were a wealthy Chicago-based couple who relocated to Phoenix on the advice of a physician, who recommended the dry Arizonian climate to improve Dwight's poor lung condition. Although he died before the opening of the museum, his widow poured the rest of her life into ensuring their joint passion, namely American Indian art and culture, would remain accessible to the public. 

Through a series of rooms chock full of beautiful and, often, moving exhibits, the Heard Museum not only displays countless artifacts and artworks, but also tells so many personal stories chronicling the American Indian experience. 

With its sterling reputation, I had expected to thoroughly enjoy the Heard. But, in actuality, my whole reaction was so much deeper than that. There was no way I could have predicted such a moving experience. 

Like that, it was wedding time. Through a combination of metro and Uber, I made my way to the third hotel of my Arizona adventure, the simple but extremely friendly Hampton Inn in East Mesa, within an easy drive of the venue, the Paseo in Apache Junction, set against the stunning backdrop of Superstition Mountain.  

It's always so special to watch the wedding of two wonderful friends. And the fact that I knew both Christina and Clement before they had met one another lent an even more indelible aspect to witnessing this event. 

Of course, it delineated into a fairly crazy evening, with dining, drinking, dancing and diversions! And I can safely say that the final wedding of 2019 was one for the record books! 

A nice little subset of wedding guests—plus the bride and groom themselves—flocked to Scottsdale the following day, to lounge by the pool of the famous Valley Ho, an old haunt of Marilyn Monroe. After cocktails by the pool and a Johnny Rockets dinner, it was, sadly, time for me to head to the airport and return to New York for the tail end of my autumnal visit to the States. 

That first day back, Friday, I managed to squeeze in a visit to Trinity Churchyard in Lower Manhattan, grab lunch with my good friend Kristen in the Financial District, return to my favorite New York watering hole Trinity Place, and, finally, celebrate my cousin Julian's confirmation in Brooklyn with my loving family before Ubering back to Matawan with my dad. 

And there were more treats in store for Saturday! My dear friend Nancy, whose parents were born in Egypt, told me that her mother was opening a Middle Eastern restaurant not five minutes up the road from my dad's house! It had long been her dream to own a successful eatery, and, now retired, she had found the time and effort to make a go of it!

My friends Lisa, Takashi and Bree all made a tremendous effort to travel a long distance to meet up, since it would be our only chance to get together during my visit home. Lisa and Tak came from Hoboken while Bree drove up from Jenkintown, Pennsylvania! 

When this crew reunites, there are countless laughs. We have so many great memories from Villanova and beyond, and it was a true joy to spend an afternoon with them. And the food was delicious, perhaps unsurprisingly, and I wish Nancy's mom a lot of luck in making her dream come true!

That night, I was back in Manhattan for one last Halloween-themed night on the town. Heidi and I hopped around a few bars, grabbed some late night pizza and, before long, it was time to head to Newark International Airport to fly back to Hong Kong. 

Now I'm back home with Fredric, reaping the fruits of my decorating labors, as I bask in the glories of my macabre living room. All Hallow's Eve is upon us, and I'm so excited for the grand finale of my favorite season!

So, since I guess I won't get a chance to say it in person this year, I hope you all have a ghoulish day tomorrow! Here's to successful disguises, a caramel apple or two, pillowcases full of candy spoils, and at least one good scare!

Happy All Hallow's Eve Eve!