Water Under the Bridge

The World Returns to Normal

The Prodigal Returns

Letter from a Hong Kong Jail

The Treasure of the Sierra Nevada

On the eve of my first Saint Patrick's Day spent in the good old US of A since 2009 (yes, you read that right!), I wanted to sit down and put together a little recap of an amazing trip I took to California at the start of the month. Although I'm shocked as I sit here typing to realize that it was a full week yesterday since my return, the giddy memories of my reverie keep replaying in my head, and it still feels like it was just yesterday! 

My good friend Elyse from Hong Kong now lives in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, about two hours' drive from San Francisco. She coaxed me into visiting, and I'm oh-so glad I took her up on her offer, because we had such a blast exploring majestic Yosemite National Park, plus a slew of "gold rush towns" that sprung up in the region back in the 1840s and 50s when the area known as the Mother Lode saw thousands upon thousands of prospectors from all walks of life trekking to the region in the hopes of striking it rich! 

There are few words to describe Yosemite. I'd been once before with my family back in the summer of 2004, when my mother, sister and I spent a month in California driving all over the place. My dad, unable to take as much time off from work, had to choose the highlights he most wanted to experience, so Napa, Sonoma and Yosemite were the stops he explored with us. Well, my memories are still clear all these years later, but it sure was nice to visit a second time. 

The park is truly awe inspiring. In fact, even the drive to the park before you've entered its boundaries is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. By the time we were nearing the floor of Yosemite Valley, Elyse was pulling her car over every couple of minutes so that we could get out and admire yet another stunning panorama.

After lunch at the Ahwahnee Hotel, we spent some time hiking to Lower Yosemite Fall and even encountered a herd of deer crossing the road near El Capitan. Although our time in the park was fairly short, I feel so grateful I got a chance to experience nature's beauty at one of this country's true treasures. 

Yosemite, impressive as it was, came as no surprise, because, as I said, I'd been there before. Not only that, but through iconic photographs like those of Ansel Adams, and even that recent documentary Free Solo, which won an Oscar a few years back, images of the park are seared into the collective mindset of Americans. 

However, I was in no way prepared for the charming string of gold rush towns we proceeded to visit over the next three days. 

I Forgot How Much I Love Winter

Well, the end of February has arrived, and I'm left scratching my head at how much I've enjoyed this past string of months. I've always loved to come home, regardless of the season. But there's something so special about how the seasons transition into one another that is completely lost when you just touch down right in the heart of one. So to have landed in the thick of summer, then to have it slowly turn to fall, and then to winter, and now to watch winter begin its gradual change into spring has been nothing short of miraculous. 

I guess all those years when I came home for Christmas and stuck around into the new year, I never got a chance to really understand how wonderful this season can be. I loved seeing family and friends, obviously, and I loved the random snowstorms that blanketed my world in a sea of white. But I abhorred the cold. Even the beauty of yesterday's blizzard soon turns to sleety, slushy blackness, stripping the snow of its purity. This was especially true when I spent so much of my free time within the confines of New York City during my all-too-brief returns. Now that I feel no such pressure, I've been able to linger in our suburban-on-the-cusp-of-rural paradise of Central New Jersey, where being far removed from the city's hubbub, our lease on fields of white snow can be extended by weeks. 

And I guess it's quite ironic if you think about it, but the winter seems colder when it just starts the moment you step off a plane, without a nice, temperate autumn to lull you into it. And knowing that same plane would just whisk me straight back to Hong Kong's perpetual heat and humidity robbed me of the joyous arrival of springtime. So you better believe I'm savoring this year as much as I possibly can. 

At the tail end of January, we even got a proper blizzard. Not only did the skies drop almost a foot of precious powder on our lawns, but we had one of the most essential elements that makes any snowstorm even more awesome: anticipation. The meteorologists giving us warnings for days - the snow is coming! - so although my sister gets freaked out by the waiting, I downright love it. 

True, shoveling isn't the most fun thing in the world. But sledding down the hills of nearby Cheesequake State Park with my sister on our vintage Flexible Flyer? Walking through the wooded trails on the sunniest of days after the snowfall had stopped? Retreating into the warm house with a mug of hot cocoa? That's pure bliss and worth every shovelful of snow it took to clear our steep driveway. 

I'm looking forward to the spring. There's no doubt about it. But I've also rekindled a love for winter that I always knew I had as a child but somehow thought I'd lost when I entered adulthood. I'm delighted to report that my affection turned out only to be dormant, not extinct. 

Requiem for a Coffee Bar

Although I'm half a world away from Hong Kong these days, I have to take a moment to mourn the loss of my favorite local establishment, which closed its doors Sunday, to the utter disappointment of Happy Valley residents who have relied on it as a communal meeting spot for half a dozen years. Multiple friends sent me messages and photos of the last hurrah, and trusty Simon even made sure Fredric popped by one final time to bid a fond farewell to a place he's spent countless happy hours. 

Lovely Happy Alley, which made the slow transition each day from morning coffee shop to evening cocktail bar, was the tiniest sliver of a space. In fact, specializing in not one but two popular items , coffee and cocktails, was less an endeavor of interest but rather of necessity, to ensure viability by stretching out the operating hours of a truly miniscule commercial space. 

But owners Oliver and Christine turned it into a little slice of paradise nestled on a nondescript Happy Valley corner. Torn between calling it a coffee shop or a cocktail bar, they settled on coffee bar, which was about as perfect as the spot itself. 

The coffee, I must confess, was divine. Oliver is Austrian, and, to the best of my knowledge, his was the only shop in all of Hong Kong to sell Julius Meinl, a high class Viennese coffee he took great pains to import from his faraway home country. 

He also kept Stiegl, a crisp brew from outside Salzburg, on draft, which was the most delightful of quaffs on those roasting summer days for which Hong Kong is infamous. 

And with a fully stocked bar behind the counter, it was not uncommon to switch to harder stuff, a crisp and refreshing Aperol Spritz or, unsurprisingly, a decadent espresso martini, making good use of those coffee machines well into the evening. 

In spite of the fantastic coffee, many a morning started for me with an Old Rosie cider or a glass of champagne, perhaps mixed with orange juice to create a nice mimosa. And I could always count on bumping into multiple friends as I lingered over my drinks, often opting for a second, a third, or even a fourth. 

Yes, I actually made multiple friends at the place. In addition to Oliver and Christine, who became pals, there was their top flight staff. Ronnie, Gabby, Nat, Dayson, Eugene, always ready to chat and lend an ear, regardless of the time of day. 

Then there were the regulars, Rachel and Emma and Christian and Priscilla and Thea and Julian and Steph and Tan, among others I'm sure I'm forgetting. Sometimes you'd hit the jackpot, Rachel and Emma would be there for a morning coffee with their dogs Tikka and Daisy, but a few moments after they left, Christian and Priscilla would arrive for a pre-lunch glass of wine. Inevitably, Thea would arrive, or at least walk by, since she literally lived a few floors above the shop. And so she'd often wind up imbibing with me, too. 

Many times, I didn't necessarily even intend to stop at Happy Alley. I'd just be on one of our routine walks with Fred and spot someone I knew having a drink. Of course, I had little choice but to pop up for one myself. 

Notably, Happy Alley was also the sole exception to one of my hard and fast rules, which is that in any given week, I can only visit each restaurant or bar one time only. I am not embarrassed to admit that sometimes I'd visit Happy Alley multiple times per day, a morning, afternoon and evening visit, especially on a Saturday, not being at all uncommon. 

When I left Hong Kong in August, we knew the fate of the spot. Oliver sadly had informed us that his landlords stated well in advance that they would not be extending the lease any further after it expired in January. So although I had every reason to believe that it would still be there after my return, I was already prepared for its loss. 

Mercifully, it wound up being the spot where my friends toasted my departure the evening before I flew home five months ago. We had a wonderful night drinking Aperol Spritzes in the warm August night. And even that next afternoon, mere hours before I headed to the airport, I met Blueky there for a final round of drinks. 

Something won't feel quite right about Happy Alley's not being there when I return to Hong Kong. It's a loss that will long stick out, but tonight, I'm content to bask in the wonderful memories and drink a glass or two in memory of a place that will forever hold a very special spot in my heart.

Thanks for everything, irreplaceable Happy Alley! You Will be sorely, sorely missed!

Hindsight is 2021

New Year's Eve is a bit of a cliché. The ball drop. The champagne. The midnight kiss. Auld Lang Syne. And, for me, the posting of my photo recap of the year. (O.K., true, sometimes I publish it a day or two early, but it's a New Year's tradition, nonetheless.) In fact, I started this little custom back in 2011, meaning this marks my tenth annual review, which is a bit wild to realize! 

So, what is there to say about 2021? In some ways, it was awesome. In others, it was a mess. I was stuck in Hong Kong for the first eight months of the year, with my fingers tightly crossed that the government would loosen its stringent quarantine requirements that made re-entry so burdensome. Then, as soon as my wish was granted and I hopped on that flight back here, the administration reversed their decision, effectively trapping me in America instead. 

And, err, I kind of had a great time through it all... Hong Kong isn't a bad place to be stuck, with wonderful friends, gorgeous weather, and stunning natural scenery. I went camping and hiking and kayaking, and I hosted around a million parties at my beloved Blind Tiger. And with so much time and nowhere else to go, I was able to check a bunch of things off my Hong Kong To Do List and re-visit most of my favorite places. 

But you know what? The USA isn't such a bad place to be stuck either, with my family nearby and the opportunity to travel farther afield at my fingertips. So I'm slowly making my way through a new To Do List here. 

So here it goes... The tenth anniversary Year in Review! 

January

Me and Fredric on our rooftop on a gorgeous New Year's Day, a whole year ago! 

February

A February Chinese New Year hike, masks and all! 

March

I finally made it to Sha Tin 18 to feast on Peking duck in a Hong Kong favorite!

April

I really took advantage of the Hong Kong International Film Festival this April! Look at all those tickets!

May

One of the highlights of my year was a sunny May Sunday spent kayaking off rugged Sai Kung

June

Our good friend Serena's farewell party at the Blind Tiger

July

The Olympics injected a lot of fun and patriotic fervor into our summer! Here I am are at the Globe in SoHo, watching the Opening Ceremony in late July with a great crew of pals! 

August

Homeward bound after twenty-one months, I had the once-common and now-rare pleasure of a layover. This one was in Zurich, Switzerland. Friends, food and fun! 

September

My sister and I zipped down to Atlantic City, where we met up with our friend Kristina, to see the summer out in true Jersey style.

October

Halloween with my dad and my sister in Brooklyn. Who could ask for anything more? 

November

Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in eleven years! Hearts were full, in addition to stomachs. 

December

Heidi and me in our finery, en route to the Villanova Christmas Party in Philadelphia

Effortless Yuletide

Christmas has come and Christmas has gone. And, boy, what a time we had! 

Now, don't get me wrong. I have loved every festive season that I've gotten to spend in Asia since 2009, with eight in Hong Kong and even one in Singapore. But there's a bit of pressure you have to apply to the month of December, a bit of energy you have to put into it, in order for it to really feel like you've enjoyed the holidays properly. 

What I think I've appreciated most about having been home in the USA for this one is how effortlessly it all flows. Over there, you really have to find Christmas. You have to make Christmas happen. But here, Christmas finds you. It happens all on its own. 

For example, with Hong Kong's warm weather, rooftop barbecues, hikes and beach days peppered throughout the holiday season, you really need to seek out certain items to reinforce the fact that it's actually December. Sure, you'll see festive displays in most of the shopping malls and many of the bars peddle mulled wine. There are also trees in the restaurants and boutiques, and company Christmas dinners are de rigeur. But if you didn't put in the extra effort, Christmas would remain largely confined to the sidelines.  

So, normally, I go overboard with the Christmas accoutrements. I pick up some wildly overpriced mistletoe at Flannel Flowers, festoon my apartment with a dozen poinsettias from the Flower Market over in Prince Edward, stock up on candy canes to hang on my tree, and snap up a box of marrons glaces from Maison du Chocolat. Without those reminders, you'd be forgiven for overlooking the imminent holiday. 

This year, I did none of those things. No mistletoe, no poinsettias, no candy canes, no chestnuts. But none of it mattered. I was still smacked with Christmas everywhere I went. 

Case in point: one dreary Saturday, I was woken up by sirens blaring on the street. No, there wasn't any conflagration raging in a nearby house or a terrible accident that had taken place on the highway. Instead, it was simply Santa Claus, riding around on his firetruck, greeting the residents of our development. 

And Christmas takes over the television networks and radio stations from basically the middle of November here. So instead of having to carefully curate my screenings and playlists, like I do if I spend the holidays in Hong Kong, I can just count of the movies and sitcoms and songs just coming on by themselves. 

Of course, not everything was left to happenstance. I did exert some energy to milk a little extra Yuletide joy out of the proceedings. I booked a ticket to catch "The Nutcracker" over in New Brunswick at the historic State Theatre last Sunday, and one random Monday night, a couple of weeks back, I drove through "Magic of Lights," the impressive holiday display at the PNC Bank Art Center, with my sister and a couple of her friends. 

And I did ensure there was always a carton of egg nog in our fridge, in addition to some Christmas beers and ciders, plus wine for mulling, when the occasion allowed. Christmas was surely in the air! 

Our halls, as you'll recall, have been decked since just after Thanksgiving, with more and more items having been added little by little. Old favorites like the musical carousel that has graced our mantel since the early 1990s, but which this year has been relocated to the dresser in my bedroom. The hand painted ceramic nativity set my mother made in 1982, which takes pride of place in the living room. The mechanical Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls whose lights and motors have kept chugging for decades, And all the pieces of the Christmas village our family has collected for as long as I can remember. 

My sister and I crafted a nifty little gingerbread house, too, each taking a half to embellish in our own way. Oddly enough, one of the colorful decorative candy squares turned out to be chewing gum. So the first time you break off a piece of the roof or walls and take a chomp out of it, you might realize not everything in your mouth should be swallowed! But before long, you'll learn to pick the gum off first and save it until after you've finished the crunchy gingerbread, gummy gum drops and sweet icing. 

Yes, for weeks and weeks now, it's just been an effortless Christmas season. 

Earlier in December, it even snowed for a spell! Alas, it didn't really stick. But, at the same time, it wasn't a smattering of specky flurries, either. This was honest to goodness snow with flakes the size of pennies dropping from the skies! 

Well, what with the snow and the ever dipping temperatures and my increasingly cold-intolerant skin that grows all the more sensitive with each year spent in a sub-tropical clime, all combined with the fact that my one serious winter jacket was left in Hong Kong, since I never anticipated sticking around in New Jersey for this long, led to a major purchase: a vintage men's mink overcoat, which I ordered off eBay. I'm just in love with the garment, and I hope it provides me with years of warmth! 

Actually, though, the weather has been quite temperate. It was downright balmy a few of these December days, to be frank. And I've taken as much advantage as I could, enjoying hours in Deep Cut Gardens and Cheesequake State Park and the Keyport and Laurence Harbor Waterfronts. 

One gloriously sunny Sunday, my dad and I drove over to Washington's Crossing, Pennsylvania, not far from New Hope, where we witnessed a historical reenactment of (you guessed it) Washington's crossing of the Delaware River on Christmas Day back in 1776. This is an event that had been on my radar for a number of years, so I was tickled pink to finally be able to watch it in person. 

There, on a hill overlooking the gently flowing river, dozens of costumed participants fired cannons, paddled rowboats, and posed for photos with the gathered crowd. And, to remember the day, I even bough some fresh-cut holly from a friendly lady who had set up a booth to sell her homegrown holiday cheer, clipped in her very own front yard! (It's still hanging on the chandelier above our dining room table!) 

But Christmas season really kicked into high gear when I ventured to the City of Brotherly Love for the Villanova Christmas party. There was no way I was missing the shindig, and even though my date, Heidi, intended to arrive only a few hours early, I decided to make a two-night mini-trip out of it! 

Now, before I regale you with tales of our exploits in dear old Philly, I'd just like to take a quick moment to recap a delightful, unexpected little moment that occurred as I went to board Amtrak's Pennsylvanian at the Moynihan Train Hall in Manhattan. 

I've ridden Atrak dozens of times. The cars are, for the most part, universally boring. There's nothing wrong with them, mind you. But there's nothing too special, either. Imagine my surprise, then, when I descended to the designated track and the first thing I saw was a maroon vintage Pullman coach staring back at me! 

It was basically the coolest thing ever. I was overjoyed that I just so happened to be wearing my new coat. And I was even more fortunate that an uber-friendly fellow passenger, similarly intrigued, was on hand to snap a few photos. 

Later on, during the ride, I chatted with the conductor, who informed me that anybody can buy an antique rail car, fit it out as they see wish, and pay Amtrak a (fairly exorbitant) fee to attach the car to any of their routes. What luck that, out of the probably forty trains that link New York and Philadelphia daily, I'm talking multiple departures per hour, I just so happened to select this one! 

Fast forward to Philly, and I'll tell you about one of the coolest Airbnb experiences I've yet enjoyed! I wound up staying in a centuries old wine cellar on Elfreth's Alley, said to be America's oldest continually-inhabited residential street. I can hardly describe how cool this place was, so I guess I'll let the old adage work its magic, the picture below being worth its proverbial thousand words. 

That first day in Philly, I linked up with my friend Tara for lunch at Parc, where we indulged in escargot, shrimp salad and delectable steak tartare. And later that evening, I hosted Tara and her boyfriend Steve in my homey den, before we hit the town, grabbing drinks in the heart of vibrant Old City. 

It was Tara and Steve who steered me to my lunch venue the following day, for one of the best (and certainly the biggest) cheesesteak I've ever had. The place was called Cleavers, over in Center City on 18th between Chestnut and Walnut, and I'll be back for sure the next time I'm town. 

With Heidi on her train barreling down the Northeast Corridor, I took an hour to explore the ineffably charming Mutter Museum, which showcases curious medical oddities. In addition to the famous displays, I was particularly taken with their jet-black Christmas tree near the ticket booth, which was bedecked with macabre ornaments. The Halloween freak inside me, normally dormant for the duration of December, sprang to the surface for a few moments before the holiday spirit pushed him back down again. 

Once I had met Heidi at 30th Street Station, we made a beeline for her brother Nate's townhouse in the Fairmount District. There, we had a chance to catch up with Nate's wife, Emma, and their adorable son, Miles, who, coincidentally, would be turning one the very next day! 

The Villanova Christmas party, needless to say, was sensational. It was in the imposing foyer of the iconic Philadelphia Art Museum, so you better believe I took the opportunity to run the Rocky Steps in my full suit and mink coat... How many people can lay claim to having done that? 

And once inside, it was a sight to behold! Imagine wildcats of every age, all in our Christmas finery, mingling with each other, cocktail in hand, across two levels of the grandiose space, with that dramatic marble staircase connecting the upper and lower floors. 

When Father Peter crooned "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" to the gathered crowd, I couldn't help feeling my 'Nova pride balloon through the roof. It was a little moment that will stay with me for a long while. 

But the surprise of the night was unexpectedly bumping into my old pals Jenn, Dave, Greg and Paul, whom I had no idea would also be in attendance that night! It was a true delight to spend so much time catching up with them all!

You better believe that after the party itself ended, we kept things going until closing time at a nearby bar. That it just so happened to be situated across from the Eastern State Penitentiary made for an easy and fun little photo shoot, too! So, all in all, I'd say it was a sensational evening.  

Heidi rushed back to New York early the next morning, but I decided to linger. After all, this had been my first time back to Philly since I flew home in August, and it's a sentimental city for yours truly, so I really wanted to make the most of my triumphant return. 

And you better believe I had the loveliest of days... 

It started with a stroll across the Schuylkill River, so I could properly admire handsome Boathouse Row, perhaps my favorite sight in town. With pitch-perfect weather complementing the scene, I could have spent all day drinking in the unforgettable view. But, if I wanted to fit in all the items on my Philadelphia To Do List, I had to make my way to the next stop. 

My feet carried me down the Benjamin Franklin Parkway all the way to Arch Street, where I quickly found my way to Reading Terminal Market. If you're not aware of this place, you've simply got to visit on your next trip, because it's got to be one of the single greatest foodie destinations on earth! 

I swear I am not exaggerating when I say that you could stay in Philadelphia for a week, dine at Reading Terminal Market for all of your meals, and still not sample all the worthwhile goods on offer. So I made a few rounds of the crowded space, where about fifty vendors sell all manner of tasty treats, before arriving at my final decisions. 

I ordered some out-of-this-world pretzel mozzarella sticks (yep!), plus a sizeable classic pretzel, from Miller's Twist, washed down with a Reading Draft root beer. And then I picked out two sensational donuts from Beiler's Donuts, specifically a fairly-pedestrian-but-nonetheless-scrumptious classic glazed and a wildly delicious maple bacon variety, which I will be dreaming about for at least a month. (I also grabbed a slice of shoofly pie for later.)

And then I just had an awesome stroll all over the city for the rest of my time there. I hit up Washington Square, which is the place I'd most like to actually rent or own an apartment if I was ever fortunate enough to call Philly home. 

From the square, it's only a few minutes' walk to the Olde Bar, which is located in the building that once housed Old Original Bookbinders, a true Philly icon that sadly shut its doors for good back in 2009. Its closure left a gaping whole in the city's high end dining scene, so I was delighted to learn that the Olde Bar again breathes life into those historic rooms! 

As I plopped down at the impressive bar, I had a feeling the mixology gods were smiling down on me. You see, there's a fairly obscure classic cocktail with Philly roots called the Clover Club. I only sipped my first Clover Club in Hong Kong, but, knowing that the drink was first created in Philadelphia, I wanted to savor one or two during my brief stint there. The bartender flashed me a big smile when sheepishly asked, "Can you guys mix a Clover Club?" 

"We sure can," he said, before whipping up the deceptively tasty concoction of raspberry, gin, egg white and lemon juice. It was so good I didn't even think twice about ordering a second. 

I could have easily wolfed down a third, and possibly even a fourth, but, with the skies darkening, I knew I had to be making tracks if I wanted to catch my train. I had initially intended to walk back to Nate and Emma's, where I'd left my bags, but I had such a leisurely stroll, that, before long, I had to order an Uber to ensure I didn't miss it!

The first reason that saw me linger was a duo of sensational street performers playing holiday tunes on their violin and cello. When another spectator urged them to sing, the cellist gave us a vocal rendition of "O Holy Night" that sent chills down my spine and (literally) brought tears to my eyes. I seriously considered missing my train to continue listening. But common sense won out. 

Next, as I continued through City Hall on my way back to Fairmount, I stumbled upon a little German Christmas market, where one of the stalls was selling mulled wine in souvenir boot mugs. Well, that's a December weakness, so there was no way I couldn't indulge. So Uber it was, with a quick stop and a speedy farewell to Nate, before I made it to 30th Street with only a few moments to spare! 

The next night was Heidi's storied annual Christmas party at her apartment on the Upper West Side. I'm not kidding, guys. This thing is legendary. I've heard about it for close to a decade. The problem is that Heidi usually hosts her bash on the second or third Saturday in December. So even on those years when I have come home for Christmas, my return has usually been timed closer to the big day itself, meaning I've never had the opportunity to attend before. Obviously, there was no way I was missing it this time.

Let's just say, there's a reason Heidi's well-known by the nickname "the perpetual hostess." The girl knows how to throw a party. She served kick-ass hors d'oeuvres and festive drinks, played the ultimate Yuletide playlist, invited a select crew of New York's glitterati, and kept things going until the early hours. I hope my inaugural visit to the bash was only the first of many! 

As Christmas drew near, my dad and I had one last little adventure up our sleeves. You see, since my return to New Jersey, I'd been angling for a visit to elegant Cape May, one of the gems of the shore. And since the Victorian seaside charmer is well-known for its Christmas cheer, we decided to make a little trip down to Exit 0 of the Garden State Parkway for a night. 

We had such a blast, and our bed and breakfast, the historic Peter Shields Inn, right on the water, was truly a magical spot. Why travel any further to dinner than the lobby of your lodging when one of the best restaurants in town is right there? It was a feast to remember. 

One of the most attractive aspects of a stay at the Peter Shields is the daily complementary wine and cheese tasting in the communal lounge down in the basement. There, my dad and I struck up conversations with two couples, Jim and Jeanie and Anita and George. And the chats we had were truly delightful. In fact, George, less than a year younger than my father, was born in the same part of Brooklyn, and although they didn't exactly remember each other, they were fairly certain they were in Fort Hamilton High School at the same time. 

It was Jim and Jeanie who suggested I pop by the Brown Room in Congress Hall after dinner. "It's easily the most beautiful bar in New Jersey," Jim told me. Once I heard that, I just had to check it out. 

Without my love to keep me warm, I put on that new mink, and walked the one point two mile stretch between the Peter Shields and the Brown Room. My Manhattan was perfect and I even got some compliments on the fur from other revelers, so, all in all, I'd say it was a pretty sensational evening. 

That next morning, after an early sunrise on the beach and more incredible food as part of the complimentary breakfast at the inn, my dad and I took some time to explore a bit more of Cape May. We hit up the iconic lighthouse and closed things off on Sunset Beach, were the S.S. Atlantus, an experimental concrete ship that ran aground there during a storm in 1926, is crumbing in an unforgettably photogenic fashion. 

Yes, with the waves flowing over her crumbling hull and a bevvy of gulls floating overhead, the Atlantus is a memorable sight to behold. Hopefully the next time I'm back, in the good old summertime, the waterfront restaurant will be open, and I'll be able to savor a meal overlooking the curious attraction.  

Like that, 'twas the night before Christmas. 

Danii and I ate the last chocolate squares from our advent calendars, the old man and I made a last minute visit to the liquor store, and we ordered a couple of pies from our local favorite pizza joint, DeNino's. (One was half plain, half vodka sauce. The other was vodka sauce with pepperoni and onion.) 

And when dusk was upon us, we partook in perhaps my favorite Christmas Eve tradition of all: the lighting of the luminaries! Having grown up with these, I just always assumed every community did something similar, but over the years, I've learned that it's actually something quite special. 

For those of you who don't know, a luminary is a simple white paper bag with a candle inside. Up close and unlit, they don't look like much. But when your whole street is lined with them, it's a beautiful sight to behold, the soft golden glow of the illuminated candle lending a warm air to the suburban neighborhood my family has called home since the mid-eighties. 

Of course, we couldn't resist the temptation to cruise around the local streets admiring not only the luminaries but also the festive decorations of many of our neighbors. (I may or may not have augmented my experience with a mug of mulled wine for the ride.)

With our Christmas tree twinkling in the darkness, I fell asleep on the couch in our family room, not far from the fireplace, with a plate of crispy cookies and a nice glass of milk left out for old Kris Kringle. The sugar plums, as you'd expect, danced in my head that night. 

And old Mr. Kringle was certainly good to me! When my dad, sister and I drove down to Chincoteague last month, I was delighted to discover that our Airbnb had Crossley Cruiser Deluxe in the living room. We even found the one shop on the island selling old LPs, a few of which I bought and played during our brief vacation.

I know this is an entry level record player, but I loved it portability and ease of use, so, although I didn't quite write a letter to the North Pole asking for one, I did mention aloud that I'd love something similar for my own Christmas gift. 

To my supreme joy, I unwrapped the large, perfectly-wrapped box with my name on it to discover my very own Crossley. Bing Crosby was immediately crooning "White Christmas," "Jingle Bells" and "Mele Kalikimaka."  

Christmas Day was spent as per the Parisi family custom, in Brooklyn. We started off at my Aunt Paulette's home, where she and Danii stuffed the Linzer tarts while my dad and I watched "March of the Wooden Soldiers." And later, we made the short drive to my cousin Victoria's house, where things really kicked into high gear. 

It was truly a feast, with an unending array of appetizers set out in the living room before we even made our way to the dining room for the dinner proper. (Think ravioli, Caesar salad and roasted pork.) 

At one point, we took a walk through the ostentatious Dyker Lights displays that draw hordes of curious onlookers to my cousins' neighborhood. I'm not sure I'd be happy to travel by bus from far away to view these homes. But I'm always happy that this is where we end up celebrating so I have an organic way to take a peek! 

Later still, my sister and I walked to our Aunt Beth and Uncle Walter's home for further family fun. My mom's sister, Aunt Marilyn, and her husband, Uncle Bill, were there, and it was simply awesome to finally get a chance to catch up with them after far too long. 

So Christmas 2021 was an unqualified success. Not only did I get that record player. I also received an array of lovely goodies in Brooklyn, including a set of four edible candy cane shot glasses, some lovely bath products, a travel trivia game and an Italian scarf. I just loved everything I was gifted this year. 

As you know, one of the many gifts Hong Kong has given me is the joy of Boxing Day! In the States, we don't necessarily celebrate this day or even have a proper name for it, apart from December 26th or the day after Christmas. But I'm now a firm fan, so I insisted we do something to properly mark this occasion. 

My dad's best friend, Uncle Chris, came out to our place with his adorable puppy Finn, and we had ourselves a merry little Boxing Day eating Japanese take-away from a local eatery, playing with the dog, listening to music and just spending time together. 

I feel so fortunate that through a series of unplanned events, my August trip back home, only expected to last for a month, has now stretched through the magical holiday season. I never expected to get an American Yuletide, so to have one that worked out so spectacularly was true perfection. With family and friends, with adventures at home and afar, and with tasty food and potent drinks, this Christmas was one for the record books. 

And, yes, as I said at the start, it all flowed pretty much effortlessly. 

The Beginning of the End

It seems each year, when December arrives, we all take a collective moment to sigh, appraising time's strange ability to fly so quickly. Here I sit, already eight days into 2021's final month, looking back on some phenomenal memories. And before Christmas truly takes over, with joyous gatherings with family and friends, holiday parties, traditional foods and all the other intangible aspects of a good, old-fashioned American yuletide, I thought I'd take just a quick moment here to re-cap the super-quick visit of my friends Serena and Toby, who flew from Switzerland to visit for only two nights! 

Yes, you read that right! Two nights. Forty-eight hours. Talk about a quick trip! And I had only a few days' notice that it was evening happening! 

You see, Serena's mom Ursi is a flight attendant on Swiss Air. After a long career, she is retiring at the end of this month. So in late November, during what Ursi thought could be her final trip to New York, Serena made sure to put us in touch, leading to a wonderful day that started with a walk from her hotel in the Financial District to Chinatown, continuing with dim sum at the oldest dumpling house in Manhattan, and finished with a long, leisurely stroll all over town. 

I'd never met Ursi before that day, but it really felt like I was spending time with an old friend. And she had such a good experience, too, that she put in a request to be assigned another New York flight, if possible, which she was lucky to get approved! 

Well, feeling pangs of jealousy at having seen the photos of our meet-up, Serena and Toby didn't want to miss out on any further adventures. So, with less than a week to go, and pulling a few strings (i.e. cheap flights, upgrades to business class), they also secured their own seats! And they actually arrived one day earlier than Ursi, since flight attendants currently only stay a single night on layovers, guaranteeing a two night vacation instead of just one. And because they landed at Newark as opposed to JFK, we decided it would be fun if I picked them up and hosted them at the house for that first night. 

It was slightly surreal to see them waltz out of Terminal B a little after 9pm on Saturday. But it was so much fun to bring them home, introduce them to Dad and Danii, and sit by the lights of our Christmas tree, as we all caught up. 

With only two days, you must have guessed that we needed to maximize every moment. Too much sleep would obviously be a waste of precious hours. So around 7:30am the following morning, I took them on an impromptu tour of the Garden State. 

We started at Cheesequake, the lovely state park less than a mile from my dad's house. A frost had formed over the lawns abutting the lake, and it was clear in the crisp morning air that winter is well on its way. We walked out over the picturesque crabbing bridge that spans the marshland of the park, as I did my best to provide a bit of history and context of a place that has played a role in my life since the earliest days of my childhood. 

No visit to New Jersey is complete without breakfast in one of our iconic diners. And Broad Street Diner in neighboring Keyport is a natural choice, having been voted the state's best in a major poll several years back. We all left completely stuffed, and I know from a culinary perspective that I did a good job of showcasing the glories of this special region. 

From the diner, I made a beeline to Route 36, as we cruised towards the shore, to the musical accompaniment of Christmas tunes on the radio. Our first stop was the Twin Lights, overlooking the Navesink River and Atlantic Ocean. As you know, I have a real soft spot for this special attraction, and I always take the opportunity to visit, whether alone or with visitors. I was glad to be able to share it with Serena and Toby.

Crossing a bridge, we next entered the Sandy Hook Unit of Gateway National Recreation Area. I took my friends down to Fort Hancock, where we admired the historic Sandy Hook Lighthouse and stately Officer's Row, a strip of old houses in the former military community. 

And, of course, we capped off our quick visit to the Hook with a stop on one of it's many impressive beaches, with the glistening spires of the skyscrapers of New York City sparkling in the mid-morning sunshine. I pocketed an impressive clamshell or two to add to my collection as a nifty memory of the morning.

Like that, it was time for the New Jersey portion of Serena and Toby's trip to come to a conclusion. My father, sister and I had afternoon plans with family friends over on Staten Island, so I dropped my dynamic duo off at Matawan Station, where a train would take them into Manhattan. There, they would do some exploration on their own, get the COVID tests required for their return to Switzerland, drop the bags off at their hotel, and eventually link up with Uris, who was slated to land at JKF a bit later in the afternoon. Then, when our family gathering had ended, I'd jump on the Staten Island Ferry and link up with everybody again for dinner.

Fast forward to 8pm, and that's exactly how it all played out. My ferry departed on time, making a quick, gorgeous crossing. And the subway took me towards Chinatown, which we had selected as the neighborhood for a memorable dinner. I mean, come on... Serena and I met and became good friends in Hong Kong. I just had to ensure at least some part of her trip took us here! 

Sadly, Hop Kee, a favorite restaurant of mine on Mott Street, could not seat us when we arrived around 8:45pm, because their kitchen shuts at 9pm on Sundays. But trusty Chinese Tuxedo, only a few atmospheric streets away, was on hand to welcome us. We took a seat at the bar and indulged in a round of drinks while we waited for our table. And before too long, we were settled in a cozy banquette in the trendy dining room. 

The meal was enough to confirm for me that my first visit to Tuxedo, back in early November to celebrate my Hong Kong anniversary, was no fluke. We had a grand assortment of tasty dishes to share, and every one was spot on. From mapo tofu with shitake mushrooms to a wok-fried beef to the most delectable crispy eggplant coated in Sichuan peanut caramel, each plate to arrive contributed to an unforgettable feast. 

Dessert was a lovely little assortment cheekily called Netflix and Chill. It consisted of a central scoop of popcorn ice cream, surrounded by globs of toasted marshmallow, sliced chunks of Snickers bars, fresh raspberries and homemade honeycomb. We shared it between the four of us, but believe me, I could have easily wolfed the entire plate down without assistance, had I been given the opportunity. 

I took the subway back up to Heidi's apartment after dinner, while Serena, Toby and Ursi opted to stroll down the moonlit streets of Manhattan to their hotel. But we made plans to meet up for breakfast in the morning, for what would be their final day in town. 

The venue was Penelope, a cozy, adorable little café over on Lexington Avenue and East 30th Street, which was bristling with charm. It was movie Manhattan at its finest, the kind of place you'd expect to find the stars of some rom-com sipping hot cocoa while falling in love during a madcap knickerbocker romp. 

As we left the restaurant, I suggested an impromptu walking tour that would see us marching up Park Avenue, exploring Grand Central, cutting across to Fifth Avenue, ducking into the New York Public Library, spending some time in Bryant Park and eventually arriving at the Empire State Building to visit the observation decks. Luckily, my friends trusted my knowledge and gave their assent for the expedition to begin. 

I'll always love Grand Central, with its marble grandeur and zodiac ceiling, so I was delighted to see all three of my visitors' impressed expressions as we moseyed around the lofty space. Perhaps most memorably, we popped down to the Oyster Bar, where the whispering arches provided an unforgettable little moment, as two people standing about thirty feet apart with their ears up to opposite walls can have themselves a whispered conversation due to some acoustical fluke. 

Leaving the station, we passed through the MetLife Building and made our way over to Fifth Avenue, turning south towards the library. The stone lions are currently wearing their holiday necklaces, those giant evergreen wreaths that lend a cute holiday air to the noble guards. 

And we even popped inside, to get an up-close look at some of the grand rooms of this imposing space. It was hushed and graceful, as it always is, and perhaps next time I have a free hour or so, I'll return with a good book to read for a spell in such an opulent setting.

For this trip, however, it was time to be making tracks, so we kept our exploration to the major highlights before venturing into Bryant Park, directly behind the library. Here, a lovely Christmas market has been set up, with a noble tree, an attractive ice-skating rink, and dozens of stalls selling all manner of food and goods. 

But the major highlight of the day was yet to come. 

You see, my former Hong Kong flatmate and all-time great friend Maxime works in New York City's most famous tower, the Empire State Building. And one of the perks of being a tenant is that each company is granted a number of access cards which allow up to five people to cut the line to visit the storied observation decks on the eighty-sixth and one hundred and second floors! What's more, there is no cost whatsoever to do so! 

Tickets to the very top normally cost a whopping USD 75 per visitor, and lines can stretch around the block. So Max not only saved us a great deal of dough but also considerable time. And it was nice to catch up with him, if only briefly. (Although neither Max nor Serena remember the one time they met, at my rooftop Thanksgiving party at the Blind Tiger last November, I had the photographic evidence on my iPhone to prove they were both in attendance!)

We must have spent at least an hour ogling at the city from these lofty perches. From the very top level, a miniscule circular capsule that sits just below the antenna, you have panoramic views in every direction. It's undeniably entrancing to peer out from such a recognizable position. 

However, down on the eighty-sixth floor, a much larger space means you can't really take in the whole scene at once, you have the novelty of outdoor terraces, which allow you to glance in each cardinal direction without any irksome windows getting in the way of your photos. As I observed to Serena and Toby, "I think the experience of being on the top deck is cooler, but the photos definitely come out better from down here!" 

Sadly, this was the last hurrah for Ursi. As a member of the cabin crew, she didn't have the same luxury as Serena and Toby to plop down in a comfy seat and sleep for the duration of the flight. She had to be on her toes and ready for work. So she headed back to the hotel to prepare for the flight. 

We took the opportunity to savor a final hour or so with a few drinks. There's a well-known rooftop bar called 230 Fifth just a few blocks south, so we headed over. I left my friends to soak up the view and settle in while I took care of one final task: tracking down a copy of the New Yorker Magazine for Ursi, who promised a good friend she'd bring one back to Switzerland for her. And once I had managed to find it, I was sipping on a nice IPA with a view to die for. 

As dusk descended upon the city, the towers began to illuminate, including the Chrysler Building and our old friend, the Empire State. Serena scrawled out a few postcards to some mutual friends, and I added my own greetings, as we could do little else but acknowledge that this short trip had come to an end. 

It was bittersweet to see them step onto the R train a little after 5pm. There were so many more things I wish I could have showed them, in both New Jersey and New York. But I'll always remember this short, last minute mini-visit. I hope you guys had as much fun as I did! And remember, you're welcome back any time! 

Thirty-Five and Fine

An Even Dozen

Well, one of the most important dates of my personal annual calendar has come and gone: November 9th. It is, of course, the anniversary of my arrival in Hong Kong, way back in 2009. It's a date that inspires in me feelings of nostalgia, motivation and gratitude, and I usually try to arrange some manner of celebration to duly mark its significance in my life. 

Alas, a couple of days ago, for only the second time in the dozen years that have come and gone since I stepped off that plane, I was not in Hong Kong, the city that has truly made me into the man I've become, on our anniversary. And so I had to put in a little extra effort to pull this one off. 

Never fear, I managed to do it, and when I went to sleep in the wee small hours of the morning, I rested easy, having had a full-fledged day that reminded me exactly why, no matter what happens, I'll forever be grateful that Hong Kong has played such a major role in my life. 

Chinatown was the natural location for the celebration. And I assembled an elite, killer crowd to join me for the feast. Youngest of the bunch, and the only one among us who could lay claim to actually having been born in Asia, was two-and-a-half year old Zoey. Her proud parents, Maxime and Celine, also came along for the ride. You probably remember these guys, Max being one of my closest roomies and his lovely wife also becoming a very close friend after they met. Rounding out the bunch was one of my best friends from Villanova, Rusty, who came to visit me not only in Hong Kong but also in Singapore back in 2013. So it was an appropriate crew for such an affair! 

Now how about the venue? 

Well, on an iconic, atmospheric bend of Doyer's Street, just off bustling Mott Street, there sits a restaurant called Chinese Tuxedo. It's not strictly authentic, not by a long shot. But it's housed in an old opera house, and its interior design is simply stunning. They dish out killer riffs on Chinese classics, incorporating strange but wonderful combinations of tastes and flavors. Think sesame buratta and sweet potato curry spring rolls. Even the cod was prepared in a char siu-style, a technique more commonly applied to roast pork than flakey white fish in Asia. 

Chinese Tuxedo also serves bottled Young Master, one of the most popular beers in Hong Kong. You can bet your sweet life I didn't even consider another beverage. And all the over-twenty-ones at the table indulged as well. 

I was on a such a high after dinner ended, that I convinced Rusty to squeeze in one extra drink in neighboring Little Italy. And, still, after that, I just didn't want to sleep. I slowly strolled from Mulberry Street all the way up to Heidi's apartment, where I was staying, on 70th Street. In case you are wondering, that's a five mile journey, probably about as close to actually completing the New York City Marathon as I'll ever get! (Smirk.)

So, yes, you can take me out of Hong Kong, at least temporarily, but you can't take Hong Kong out of me! Happy anniversary, babe, and sorry we couldn't celebrate together on our special day. But rest assured, we'll make up for lost time when I get back, and while I'm away, you're always on my mind!

October Done Right!

Happy Halloween from New Jersey, everybody! There's a little over an hour left of October here, the Halloween season drawing to a spectacular close. Before I head to the living room to squeeze in one final appropriately spooky movie screening, I wanted to catch you up on what has turned out to be perhaps the best October I've ever coordinated! 

Manual Labor Day Weekend

It’s funny to realize this, but apart from a staycation or two in Hong Kong over the past eighteen months, I haven’t had a proper getaway since I flew down to Thailand in February 2020. So, last week, when my sister Danii and I drove to Atlantic City for an amazing lead-in to Labor Day, it felt like a full-fledged holiday. Yes, it was an incredible return to a place where I spent a great deal of time as a child. And although gambling didn’t really play too big a part in our exploits, I still feel like a winner in the wake of this trip. As summer starts its inevitable fade into fall, I’d just like to take a moment to preserve some of my top memories of the mini-vacation, plus the days that followed when we’d returned back north as we savored one final glorious sunny stretch! 

I’ll never forget the moment I first walked into our top-floor oceanfront room at the Claridge Hotel on Thursday. It was dusk, and the lights were dimmed, so my eye was immediately drawn to the large picture window facing the sea. A storm was rolling in, the trees in Brighton Park swaying in the heavy gales and white-capped waves pounding the Jersey Shore. My jaw dropped and I’m pretty sure I let out an audible ‘wow’ on the spot. I could have stood there and just gazed over that vista for my entire trip, it was so dramatic and spectacular. Little memories like this can be so magical.

We hit the boardwalk a little while later, making a short trek to St. James Place and popping into the historic Irish Pub for dinner. Although I’ve heard a ton about the place, this was actually my first visit, and I loved the friendly staff, who took us around the whole building, telling tales of its illustrious history.

My corned beef special was off the charts, and a cold pint of Guinness has rarely been more fitting. All consumed in the atmospheric dining room, its walls lined with eye-catching bric-a-brace, it made for an incredible evening.

Back on the boardwalk, it felt like a category five hurricane was rolling in. Of course, it was actually the remnants of Ida, but the gusts were so strong that at several points, Danii and I felt like we were about to lift off the ground! In fact, although I was giggling and enjoying the phenomenon, my poor sister was actually frightened out of her wits. She insisted we immediately head indoors, so we popped up to Bally’s casino, where I lost a double sawbuck in the blink of an eye.

I consoled myself with a quick dip in the Claridge’s elegantly floodlit swimming pool, before we retired to our room, with the view as dramatic as ever. Before I finally climbed into bed, I sat in an armchair pointed out the window for what might have been hours, as I drank in the scene.

We took an early morning stroll on the boardwalk that next day, and one thing was clear: the storm had come and gone, leaving little but its memory in Atlantic City. Having heard terrible stories of the damage wrought further north, including the area where we live, I was scared southern New Jersey might have received similar damage. 

But as the dawn rays warmed the wood of that iconic promenade, there was no doubt this was going to be a glorious day.

When Danii first proposed this quick jaunt down to Atlantic City, the first thing I said was, “We have to go pay a visit to Lucy.” No, not some friend of mine who lives in the vicinity, but rather the famous seaside attraction Lucy the Elephant.

Built back in 1888 and standing six stories just off the beach in the neighboring town of Margate, Lucy is an icon of the Jersey Shore. And, perhaps shockingly, in all my previous visits to AC, I’d never gone to see it. When we caught a news story mentioning that the structure was badly in need or repair and would be closing towards the end of September for a ten-month restoration, I knew the timing of our trip couldn’t have been more perfect!

So after our boardwalk stroll that morning, we hopped in the car and drove the ten or so minutes down to Margate. It was lovely just cruising down the quiet streets outside of main heart of town, as urban gave way to suburban, with dozens of the cutest little beach houses you’ve ever seen lining each street.

But it was Lucy herself who made the morning so memorable. We paid the minimal fee to take a fully-guided tour of the structure, entering in one of her hind legs, spiraling up the staircase into her surprisingly cavernous interior, gazing out through her porthole-like eyes and venturing up to her rooftop, the nullah, for dreamy views of the sea.

To finally be standing there, and to know we were among Lucy’s final visitors before her temporary closure, all coupled with the peerless weather, made for a very memorable encounter with the peaceful pachyderm. And I have a feeling my first visit with dear old Lucy won’t be my last!

Back in Atlantic City, Danii and I popped down to Bally’s Beach Bar for some giant pouch cocktails, and I even snuck in a cheeky tequila marinated watermelon and pineapple platter, which doubled as both my late breakfast and my early lunch.

As the banner-towing planes glided across the sky, and all manner of beachgoers made their way to the sand, we whiled away a pleasant hour, before I returned to the Claridge (my phone was dangerously low) and Danii settled in on the beach to soak up some color.

After getting a little juice in the old iPhone, I headed up to the Claridge’s incredible rooftop space, VUE, which has an expansive outdoor patio overlooking Atlantic City in all its glory. Eventually—and by that I mean hours later—Danii came up and joined me, as we plotted plan for the evening. I had booked two spaces on a sunset cocktail cruise, and her friend Kristina planned to drive down and join us for dinner and drinks, so we had a lot of look forward to.

The cruise turned out to be wonderful. Run by an operation simply called Atlantic City Cruises, our captain sailed us in the backwaters behind Absecon Island, passed the ritzy homes and private docks of the citizens of Brigantine.

And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the friendly bartender kept our delicious drinks re-filled, and we even spotted a group of dolphins frolicking in the calm waters. I made it my duty to sample as many of the cocktails off the ship’s menu as I could in the all-too-brief sixty-minute cruise time, and by the time we moored back at the pier, I was confident I had done well for myself!

Back at VUE, we ultimately linked up with trusty Kristina, but because she had gotten into town slightly later than we had originally expected, we opted to dine in our hotel’s signature Italian restaurant, Twenties, instead of journeying farther afield. I had an incredible tri-color Jersey tomato appetizer, followed by a sumptuous pasta dish, all washed down with a strong highball.

Like that, it was Friday of Labor Day Weekend. And I was up and at ‘em shockingly early, literally in time for the sunrise. I started watching the skies illuminate from the secluded grandeur of the room, but I realized the hulking towers slightly to the north would obscure the sun’s actual appearance over the Atlantic. So I rushed down to the sand and slowly made my way along the shore, as the morning spectacle reached dazzling heights.

At one point, I even called friends in Hong Kong because I wanted to show off the beauty of my home state. And, boy, oh boy, was it beautiful at that moment! I even had the opportunity to walk directly underneath Steel Pier, its sturdy pillars casting dramatic shadows on the sand.

I spent an enormous amount of time walking up and down the boardwalk afterwards, spotting as many of the Monopoly street signs as I could locate. My objective was to scope out what I felt was the best spot for breakfast, as I knew my late-rising sister and friend would be in touch soon, with empty morning stomachs. I thought Bungalow Beach took the prize for most inviting venue with its airy, plant-strewn patio immediately fronting the boardwalk. And, almost on cue, Danii sent me a message asking where I was.

What can I say? Paul can pick ‘em. It was a great spot for breakfast, and we made it even more memorable by hailing one of Atlantic City’s famous rolling chairs to shuttle us there from the Claridge. Seated on the sunny al fresco eatery’s sizeable terrace, I promptly ordered a mimosa and a stack of sumptuous Godiva pancakes, studded and drizzled with chocolate.

Our appetites taken care of, Danii and Kristina wanted a few more hours of summer sun on their skin, and I duly tagged along to the beach, even taking several dips in the perfect ocean. I was reminded that I rarely feel more alive than when I swim in the Atlantic. Yes, the dreamy seas of Southeast Asia are easy on the eyes, to be sure, but bathing there is similar to swimming in a pool or even a bathtub, with warm water and hardly any surf. You’ve really got to be on your toes in Atlantic City, with massive waves apt to knock you down every moment if you’re not properly prepared. And, well, I simply adore it.

As the afternoon wore on, I left the girls on the sand and headed to Steel Pier, because I had every intention of riding the giant Ferris wheel before leaving. I mean, are you really surprised? You can see the huge contraption from all over town, including from the hotel window, so I’d been enticed since our arrival. And I’m so glad I got to take a whirl on it.

Our last official duty in Atlantic City before driving back home was to stock up on salt water taffy, the original Jersey Shore treat, invented here back in the 1800s and a popular snack to this very day. Walking back to the car with our treasure, it was a quirky moment to spy the Claridge’s beautiful art deco architecture recreated on the box! I’m pretty sure I’ll keep this long after the sticky candy has disappeared, as a glorious memory of a quick-but-phenomenal vacation.

We still had the rest of what promised to be a glorious Labor Day Weekend ahead of us. And although Saturday mostly turned into a rest and recovery day, our energy had returned by Sunday. Danii and I had a delicious waterfront brunch on the dock of Jakeabob’s Bay, over in Union Beach. And we capped off the night at the Regal Cinemark in Hazlet, watching Jordan Peele’s new updating of Candyman.

My dad and I spent Labor Day itself in Perth Amboy, a little city about ten minutes’ drive north of our house. Perth Amboy has a quaint downtown, but for me, its real charmer is its picture-perfect marina, with myriad boats of all shapes and sizes plus dreamy views of Tottenville over on Staten Island.

Over the years, I’ve worked out the perfect Perth Amboy routine. On a sunny day, as this was, you have to stop for at least one drink at the waterfront Armory to soak up the perfection of the scene. 

But for the best eats in town, you have to sacrifice your panorama ever so slightly, and make a beeline for the Barge, a restaurant whose chefs know how to broil fresh seafood like you wouldn’t believe. So after a Mezcal mule, my dad and I were seated at a window table feasting on decadent scallops before sating our sweet tooths with rich, waitress-approved chocolate mousse.

Perhaps needless to say, when we passed a local ice creamery en route back to the car, I couldn’t resist the temptation to indulge. “Life is better with sprinkles,” a sign on the back wall proclaimed. You better believe it!

As summer’s last day merged into summer’s last night, I made myself a final cocktail of the season, which I sipped on our back deck, as the skies changed color and I kept my eyes pealed to spy the last of the lightning bugs. I feel so lucky I got to catch the tail end of such a special time of year back home, after being kept away for so long!

So, when my sister and her friend Phil announced they were headed to Sundae’s for a quick dessert and volunteered to take me along, I didn’t really have to think twice. In spite of the chocolate mousse and first ice cream of the day over in Perth Amboy, I hopped right in! And I savored every spoonful of those delectable scoops of Key lime pie as I reflected over the most precious of memories.

Cheers, summer 2021! Glad we got to know each other, and I look forward to the arrival of your colorful cousin, fall!