Thailand 4.0

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walking Street

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

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

Jomtien Beach

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

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

Wrapping Up November

November is, without doubt, the most jam-packed of months for me here in Hong Kong. In addition to the perennial celebration of the nth anniversary of my arrival in the SAR at its start, there's also my birthday and Thanksgiving to round things out at the end. This year, a dozen or so other events were liberally peppered throughout the momentous thirty days, and so I'd like to take a moment to pause and reflect on what a full month it's been.

First off, as you may have noticed from the lead photograph of my last entry, the one and only Silja Boy was back in town! She and her friend Alex stopped in Hong Kong for a few days en route to a vacation in Vietnam, and they passed through again on the way back to Germany. So I got to have them join for my anniversary dinner, and I also got to spend an all around great time with them while they were here. 

I also lost two stalwarts of my Hong Kong life when Sonia's parents, Martin and Mongia, retired to Thailand. They've lived in Hong Kong since 1982, and they finally decided the time was right to retire to their beloved vacation spot. When they found a steal-of-an-apartment for sale on their last visit, they took the plunge, and they moved down about two weeks ago. Although I will be flying down to visit them later this week, I already miss having such loving, entertaining and generous neighbors to spend time with here. Our frequent rooftop dinners and their communal feasts around major events were some of the major highlights of my Happy Valley social life. And their absence is a void that will be tough (read: impossible) to fill. 

Of course, there were also the horrific events that transpired in Paris on 13 November, which made a big impact here in Hong Kong, owing to the immense and vibrant French community. There were some very poignant candlelit memorials held in a pair of waterfront parks, and the people of Hong Kong displayed an overall sense of solidarity and strength with the people of France. As you probably know, there are few places in this world that have more sentimental value for me than Paris, where I studied abroad in 2007. And so to be able to show my support with my French friends gave a glimmer of comfort in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

On a happier note, my friend Eleni turned thirty less than a week before my own birthday. She got a small group together for a delicious Italian-American dinner at Carbone, a New York-style eatery that harkens back to the glory days of mid-century America, with hearty portions and lethal cocktails. 

Over a couple of Gibsons and some rigatoni alla vodka (not to mention a killer slice of lemon cheesecake), I was delighted to celebrate the historic occasion. (My having booked the following day off from work also may have added to my desire to make it a full-fledged party night in LKF afterwards.)

I actually arrived a few minutes late for the dinner, because a last-minute opportunity presented itself that I was unable to turn down. An old Villanova buddy, Broc, was in town, as his Naval ship was calling here for a few days. Broc graciously offered me and my friend James a tour of the USS Anchorage while it was docked at China Merchant's Wharf in Kennedy Town. He was oh-so knowledgeable about the ship and took James and me all over the massive vessel, the whole while spewing forth interesting facts, figures and anecdotes about his time on board.

On Sunday 22 November, Silja was back in town and I had tickets for an open day at King Yin Lei, an old-school mansion perched on Stubbs Road overlooking Hong Kong Island and the harbor beyond. The historic building is only open on very limited dates, and I'd recently missed a couple of opportunities to finally get a peek inside. So I made sure I picked up the free tickets the first day they were available when they last were distributed to the public.

A few days later, of course, my own birthday took place. I made up my mind long ago that I finally wanted to organize dinner on a sampan anchored in Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter to ring in my twenty-ninth year. And I'm glad to say all the hype is worth it! I had to get a Cantonese-speaking colleague to help arrange everything, but in all, the evening couldn't have gone better.

In the olden days, I'm told, you could just wander up to the waterfront and any number of fisher folk would be delighted to row you out to dine on their daily catch. As the decades wore on, and hygiene became more and more a consideration for diners, the "floating restaurants" gradually disappeared. Then, a few years back, after wrangling through governmental red tape to secure a license, one entrepreneurial chef revived the tradition in the form of Shun Kee Typhoon Shelter.

Fresh seafood, free corkage, great friends and an unbeatable atmosphere... It was surely a great way to celebrate (or palliate) the dubious distinction of turning twenty-nine! And my friend Emilie managed to capture some wonderful photos of the meal with her nifty camera.

Thursday evening, I hosted another installment of my rooftop Thanksgivings—Fredric's first—and it was another memorable evening. Perhaps it was a little chillier than in years past, but we still had far too much food, wine and merriment. We do a sort of pot-luck feast where everybody brings an item, and we had turkey with all the trimmings, vegetables, mashed potatoes, Chinese roast pork, cheese and crackers, brownies, cupcakes and pumpkin pie. And lots of red wine. And my friend James managed to capture some wonderful photos of the meal with his nifty camera.

(Oh... just a word of warning. Next year, my birthday and Thanksgiving collide. And I'm turning thirty, to boot. So clear your schedules now so you can come celebrate with me! I'm planning to have a traditional American Thanksgiving with friends and family, hopefully served on a beach or junk.)

I booked the following day off from work again, so I could properly recover after a week of big events, but it was only a day's rest before the next one: Clockenflap.

Clockenflap is Hong Kong's biggest music and arts festival, a full weekend's worth of fun. And even though I didn't know many of the "headliners" this go-around, spending at least one of the three days listening to live bands, bumping into friends left and right and basking in the glorious ambiance of the West Kowloon Cultural District made for an unforgettable closeout to the month. 

Yesterday, Sunday, was the first day of Advent, capped off with a candlelight service at twilight at Saint John's Cathedral before I slowly wandered all the way home... 

And so it was... November 2015. In a few hours, December will have arrived, and the year will be in its final sprint.

The Sixth Anniversary Post

Six years... That's right: as of today, I have been in Hong Kong for six years. Every November, this date rolls around, and I scratch my head in confusion at how fast it's come back. Today is no different. I can't decide if I'm more bemused or delighted, but it's a combination of both. Sort of like when you find some of the best ravioli or agnolotti you've ever eaten in a trattoria ensconced in one of Hong Kong's most traditional Chinese neighborhoods. Which, incidentally, is exactly where I just finished a celebratory Italian dinner with a group of friends to mark this anniversary. 

Everybody keeps saying, "One more to go!" Of course, they are referring to the fact that expats get "permanent residency" upon hitting the seven year mark, and by such logic, I'll be eligible in a mere three-hundred-and-sixty-five days. The truth, however, is that although my plane touched down in Hong Kong on 9 November 2009, my official work visa didn't get approved and validated until the end of March 2010. So I still have about a year and a half to go. Still, if the past is any indication, the time will just continue to fly, and I'll have my PR before I know it. 

Recently, two friends of mine from Villanova, Melissa and Andrew, came to visit, and it was another grand excuse to remind myself what a great city I call home.

Me and Andrew feasting on dan dan noodles on his and Melissa's first night in town.

It was particularly special to have Melissa in town, because back in 2009 when Hong Kong first appeared on my radar, she was one of my few friends who had ever visited. You see, Melissa had studied abroad in Hong Kong the semester before, and so she immediately lit up with excitement when she found out I might move here. So to have her now ask me for tips and advice was slightly surreal! 

Shenanigans in Lan Kwai Fong

It's funny to remember, but there were a few weeks during the interview process when I wasn't quite sure I would accept a job offer in Asia, should it come. I knew nothing about Hong Kong and hadn't bothered to do much research at that point. Melissa helped not only to alleviate my reluctance but to transmute it into anticipation. I don't have to tell you that a job offer did come, and I accepted the two year assignment. And—well—here I am. 

For Halloween, Melissa, Andrew and I all participated in what is surely the coolest costume party I've ever experienced: Beatship! Beatship is an event held on SuperStar Virgo, a bona fide cruise liner that sails nightly into international waters, usually for gambling but occasionally for massive parties. You get a room, several meals, access to pools, clubs and a casino. And for this special Halloween edition, there were even monsters wandering the ship whom you had to approach, uttering a specific pass-phrase to collect stamps, which could later be redeemed for drinks.

"Guys, there's Leatherface!! How do you like Texas?"

Melissa and Andrew actually booked a special cabin, so as the ship sailed out of Victoria Harbour, we sipped gin and tonics on our own private balcony as the skyline faded from view. It was windy on the forward deck where the dinner buffet was served, but the aft deck, which was home to the nightclub, was much less squally. 

Taco face and wind gusts

The party was still kicking in the early hours, so I only made it back to the cabin shortly before we pulled into port at 8:30 the next morning! (I also may have taken a short nap on a deck chair.) I must admit, it was probably the best Halloween I've ever had. Over a week later, it's still a go-to conversation topic, and I suspect it will remain so for some time. 

Cheers!

So another November 9th has come and is about to go. This year hasn't been the easiest of the six, needless to say. But from dinners and hikes to boat trips and foot massages, I know I'm still so lucky to have wound up in such an extraordinary place. And Fredric is always on hand to cheer me up if all else fails. 

So, once again, I have to thank my lucky stars that fate lead me to the Pearl of the Orient—and that through a combination of luck and hard work, I've managed to remain here despite things not quite always going according to plan. Bei mir bist du shön, Hong Kong! I'm confident our story still has much waiting to be written!

Just In Time For Halloween...

I took a long stroll around Hong Kong Cemetery in Happy Valley the other day. It's a place I'm always strangely drawn to. I don't know why, but cemeteries have always held an ineffable sort of appeal for me. I find them peaceful, poignant and downright fascinating, and this one is among the most interesting I've ever explored.

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it would be appropriate to take you on a sort of quasi-virtual walking tour of this spellbinding place.

Ready? Here we go...

Located on Wong Nai Chung Road, just across the street from the massive Happy Valley Racecourse, the burial ground formerly known as Colonial Cemetery is not just the final resting place of thousands of local and foreign Hong Kong residents; it's also a veritable history book of the city itself, with every stone a piece of the massive jigsaw puzzle that is Hong Kong.

A small chapel here dates to 1845, making it the oldest colonial building in town and, thus, a Grade I historic structure. The door was unlocked on my most recent visit, so although I had been told it was closed to the public, I ducked inside for a few moments to have a look around.

Back outside, the earliest graves date to this same period, and the timeworn, unkempt tombstones conjure up images of a forgotten burial ground nestled behind a quaint church in New England, or perhaps Olde England.

Over the nearly two hours I spent combing the ten hectares of grounds, I encountered only three living souls. A gweilo couple, dog in tow, hustled past me as I walked down one of the main pathways. And a lone watchman informed me about twenty minutes in advance that the cemetery would be closing at six o'clock; I assured him I had no intention of getting locked in overnight.

My favorite thing to do in places like this is to read the inscriptions on the grave stones, and to envision the lives and stories of the people interred beneath them. And this particular cemetery hides a wealth of fodder for the imagination, owing to Hong Kong's nature as a bustling crown colony during the infancy of the colonial administration.

Some big names from Hong Kong history are buried here. Sir Catchick Paul Chater, who has several streets, a garden and an office tower named in his honor, was born in Calcutta and became one of the most important and influential businessman in Hong Kong's early days.

And Sir Robert Ho Tung, a prominent Eurasian businessman, rests with his wife below a pair of well maintained, large marble crosses.

A few of the stones list causes of death that would be hard to imagine in a modern day cemetery:

"Sacred/To the memory/Of/William Killick/Drowned/15th December 1895."

"Thos. Boulden/Who Was Accidentally Killed/At the Great Fire/At Hongkong/On November 29th 1867."

 And "William Stanley Seymour/Who met his death/By falling from aloft/February 21st 1885."

One memorial stands proudly in memory of the crew members killed when a French destroyer, Fronde, vanished during a typhoon in 1906. Typhoons nowadays are a cause for minor celebration here, a day off from work and an excuse to visit the bars. This memorial serves as a grim reminder that in the past, they posed a very clear and present danger to human life in the city.

There is even one stone marking the grave of Olive Batley, who "died on duty" during the "Cathay Pacific Airways crash on Mount Butler" in February of 1949. Olive's portrait, depicted via bas-relief, smiles gingerly over the gently sloping grounds, eternally twenty-four years old. I wasn't even aware there had been such an accident, but it's another example of a Hong Kong story waiting to be discovered here.

As the skies grew darker, I explored a more remote section, and stumbled upon the tomb of Joseph Zelley who "passed into rest" after a short illness at the Royal Navy Hospital on November 24, 1886. It hit me a moment later that this date was exactly a century before my own birth.

Near his tomb was a memorial erected by a mourning husband in memory of his deceased young bride. His name, James Waddell, was significantly larger than hers, Elizabeth Jonds, which I couldn't quite understand.

There was one stone I had read about but couldn't seem to locate. And with darkness descending upon the Valley, I had all but given up hope of finding it when I spied it out of the corner of my eye. With minutes to spare, I did an about-face and retraced my steps up a small hill to find the final resting place of James Walsh. The inscription reads: "Who Departed Life/15 September 1868," the accidentally omitted "This" furtively inserted into its proper place, as if the engraver had hoped nobody would notice.

Rushing back towards the exit, I checked my phone and saw it was 5:59pm as I passed through the wrought iron gates and found myself back on the main road, with trams, cars and buses all rushing by. It's amazing how quiet and peaceful the cemetery is, with such cacophony just beyond.

Hong Kong Cemetery exists in a sort of Twilight Zone or, perhaps more appropriately, in an October Country, that place where, as Ray Bradbury wrote, "it is always turning late in the year. That country where hills are fog and rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay."

Happy Halloween from Hong Kong!