HK in HK

I'm in Siem Reap right now, midway through a quick jaunt around the famous temples of Angkor Wat with Heidi. Expect an update when I've returned to Hong Kong detailing our exploits. But, while you're waiting, we also just zipped through an amazing five days in Hong Kong (plus a side trip to Macau!), full of good food, strong drinks, late nights, bustling markets, choppy ferries, new friends, old habits and dizzying views.

As one of my best friends, Heidi's been long overdue for a visit for some time now. In fact, my last day in New York City back in 2009, before I hopped on a plane and moved halfway 'round the world, was spent gallivanting around Manhattan with Heidi, hitting up some favorite hot spots and savoring my last hours in the United States! Since I touched down in Hong Kong nearly seven years ago, I've been trying to convince her to come visit. And on my many visits home, when I've often stayed with her on the Upper West Side, I've regaled her with tales of life in the Pearl of the Orient, in hopes that she'd one day be induced to visit. Apparently, after seven years of it, she was persuaded.

Heidi arrived super early in the morning of the eighth of October, just before 5am. It was so early, in fact, that I had to catch a bus to meet her at Hong Kong International because trains weren't even running yet. And after she collected her bag and cleared customs, we caught the first Airport Express to the city. Quiet streets and her relatively manageable suitcase convinced me that the trusty tram was the best way to shuttle Heidi to Happy Valley, so she could catch her first glimpses of Hong Kong as it slowly came to life on a sleepy Saturday morning.

Introductions, naturally, were in order, and I was very happy that Heidi had a chance to meet my roommate Max, who promptly grilled her on her geography skills, and, of course, Fredric, to whom she took an instant liking! After a quick local breakfast of pineapple buns and milk tea, we caught a cab to the Peak Tram to make our way to the top of Hong Kong Island.

Waiting for the Peak Tram

There was a good reason I put the Peak visit so early in Heidi's itinerary. A few days before her arrival, Cathay Pacific—Hong Kong's flagship airline—retired the iconic Boeing 747. It had completed its last scheduled route by this point, but Saturday morning, around 10am, it was set to make a celebratory "low flight" over Hong Kong to allow the public a chance to say farewell.

When I read about this in the papers, I immediately decided Heidi and I would try to catch the spectacle from atop Victoria Peak. And I wasn't alone! Indeed, it felt like the whole of Hong Kong had the same idea. When we reached the top of the Peak, we did the circular walk, and by the time we rounded the turn that gives way to unparalleled views of Hong Kong's skyline, hundreds and hundreds of people were already waiting, with still over an hour until the scheduled flyover!

So many people!

We staked out some good spots and waited for the show... A little before 10:30am, someone pointed to the west and said, "There she is!" Sure enough, a 747 was flying above the city. In my head, I imagined a truly low flight storming through town, below the level of the towers. In actual fact, the plane was still quite a safe distance above the buildings, and it was a bit underwhelming considering the dramatic image I had envisioned over the previous few days.

Arrivederci, 747

Still, Heidi got to see the Peak in all its glory, and, along with the rest of Hong Kong, we got to bid adieu to a little piece of aviation history. And it was just the start of one of the most jam-packed days I've ever had in the SAR.

Welcome to Hong Kong!

We rode the Peak Tram back down and meandered through the grounds of Saint John's Cathedral before cutting through the Standard Chartered Bank Building, one of my favorite skyscrapers in Central, and the HSBC Building, where we paused to rub the paws of one of its bronze lions. Hungry again at this point, we made a beeline for Crystal Jade in nearby IFC mall, where we had a veritable feast of Chinese dumplings and noodles. As you know, Crystal Jade is one of my favorite restaurants in town, and I love sharing it with all my visitors. I was so delighted that Heidi seemed as taken by the food as I always am! And it was also the perfect venue to introduce Heidi to a Cantonese phrase that would come to define our adventures: Ho bao, which means I'm full. We had enough food for a table of four (or more), and we pretty much ate everything.

We ate all these and more...

We  partook in an obligatory crossing of Victoria Harbor aboard the Star Ferry, disembarking in Tsim Sha Tsui, where we ducked into the Peninsula on our way to Nathan Road. I'll always have a soft spot for the elegant grande dame of Hong Kong's posh hotels. Although we didn't stop for afternoon tea and just had a quick jaunt around the place, it's still always fun to walk through the old world lobby and hushed corridors of this graceful temple of luxury.

Looking down over the lobby from a balcony where the musicians serenade afternoon tea-goers

We had one mission to complete in the midst of all the sightseeing. With our trip to Cambodia only a few days in the future, my Pen was in dire need of some TLC from Raymond, a master camera repair man with a jumbled office in Mong Kok. The camera'd been working slower than usual since I got back from Jakarta, and on Friday, a screw popped off the lens, meaning I had to manually hold the lens up to the body whenever I wanted to snap a photograph. I had almost taken it in to be repaired before Heidi's arrival, but as it was at least marginally working, I really wanted it to capture a shot of the 747 cruising over the city. So up we went to Raymond's mad laboratory of camera repair to drop it off that afternoon. 

Mong Kok is an epicenter of Hong Kong's markets, and we pretty much hit up each and every one of them afterwards. We walked through the Ladies Market towards Fa Yuen Street, crossing Prince Edward Road to walk along the Flower Market and arrive at the Yuen Po Street Bird Garden.

Beautiful cages on sale at Yuen Po Street Bird Garden

Back on the southern side of Prince Edward Road, we traversed Tung Choi Street, pausing often to admire the colorful goldfish, terrapins and reptiles that populate the bustling market street. Having retraced our steps to Yau Ma Tei, we ducked into the Tin Hau Temple and watched as a few stalls of the Temple Street Market began to show signs of life.

Tung Choi Street's Goldfish Market

Then, pangs of hunger inexplicably returned, and since we were near Mido Cafe, we decided to plop down for a snack. A mid-afternoon break consisting of Hong Kong French Toast has become de rigueur for many of my out of town visitors. Magically preserved in a perpetual 1950s limbo, Mido is a very retro place to chill out for an hour or so, especially after frantic market hopping in Kowloon.

Yau Ma Tei's Mido Cafe

And because Mido was double-recommended to Heidi by both yours truly and none other than Anthony Bourdain himself, she was very keen to indulge. (Heidi watched an episode of his show set in Hong Kong to prepare for the trip.)  Of course, the iconic cafe more than fulfilled its role as a vibrant and tasty respite from the chaotic streets below.

Hong Kong French Toast

Heidi bought some jade at the eponymous Jade Market afterwards, and then I had an idea. The skies were commencing the darken, and the ICC was towering in the distance. What better way to cap off the fading afternoon than with a celebratory cocktail at the world's highest bar? We traipsed over to West Kowloon and entered the Ritz Carlton. Soon enough, we were in an elevator skyrocketing up to the one hundred and eighteenth floor of the sleek tower, where we got ourselves a pair of gin and tonics and watched night fall over the dizzying metropolis.

Top of the world...

By the time we left, the skies were black and it was time to make a decision about dinner. While five days is enough to get a good impression of Hong Kong, it would probably take me more than a month to take a visitor to each and every eatery on my "favorites" list. And, as such, I provided Heidi with three or four options for the evening's feast. In the end, she chose Indonesian food at the tranquil Shatin Inn in the New Territories.

Now I know you're probably sick of reading about this place since I write about it so often, but I really can't think of another place in Hong Kong that's quite as beguiling. With the lights twinkling in its airy garden and the sizzling satays grilling upon your table (and not forgetting the accompanying killer peanut sauce), mixed with chirpy staff and a dog-friendly pet policy, Shatin Inn is not just one of my favorite places in Hong Kong but indeed anywhere.

Shatin Inn from the road

Over the course of my many visits, both alone and as part of a group, I've become friendly with Sonia, the type of gregarious waitress whose good nature and droll sense of humor can add so much to a meal. (Once, when I came by myself after the races, she sat down at my table and split a bottle of Tsing Tao with me because she felt bad that I was alone.) While Heidi and I were feasting on the satays and beef rendang, Sonia whipped out some genuine 1970s curios from the restaurants past, including a wooden business card and an old version of the menu that was identical to the one you're handed to this very day... until you look at the prices!

Satays, beef rendang and Tsing Tao—who could ask for anything more?

Heidi, Fredric and I lingered in the outdoor garden—which we had all to ourselves—until Sonia hinted that it was getting late (read: I'd like to go home soon.) And although we flirted with the idea of going out, a "twenty minute nap" (from which neither Heidi nor I awoke) sealed our fate on what had become a pretty perfect first day. 

Sunday started with mass at Saint Margaret's Church in Happy Valley. And it was quite strange for me to realize this, but it wound up being the first time I attended a mass in Cantonese. Over all of my travels, I've sat through memorable services in French and Italian, Thai and Tamil. But in seven years in Hong Kong, an English service has always presented itself and I'd never been to one in the local language!

Saint Margaret's Church

Attending mass in a foreign language is a very special thing, and that mass further proved it. Both Heidi and myself have enough familiarity with the order of service as to know almost exactly what is going on at all times, but hearing to cadence and rhythm of prayers in an unknown tongue is very memorable.  Even the priest's sermon was enjoyable, listening to the congregation laugh at his jokes or react to his advice, not understanding one word of what he was saying but seeing how rapt the parishioners were listening to him speak.

After mass, we met up with my friends Ana, Ben and Angele at Wan Chai's Star Ferry Pier, crossing over to Kowloon again for brunch at the recently re-opened Cafe Deco. Formerly located atop the Peak, rent increases forced the restaurant to vacate its iconic location. But it's now perched atop The One, a shopping mall and skyscraper overlooking the whole of the harbor, and it was great to feast on oysters, crepes, cheese, cold cuts and unlimited desserts in the art deco-inspired dining room, with a view to die for!

Brunch crew!

Although my nights out in Hong Kong are normally centered around either Wan Chai or Lan Kwai Fong, TST actually hides a wealth of amazing bars, lounges and clubs that provide a nice complement to those on Hong Kong Island. And since we were on the Dark Side already, it made sense to indulge in a post-brunch libation at one of my favorite TST watering holes, Tequila Jack's. They do tasty Margaritas that are of phenomenal value, and with outdoor seating, it's a nice place to kill an hour or two.

Walking from brunch to Tequila Jack's in TST

Ben and Angele headed home, but Ana, Heidi and I migrated a few hundred meters south, from Tequila Jack's to the Avenue of Stars—passing the relocated Bruce Lee statue en route—to watch the 8pm laser show, A Symphony of Light. In a stereotypical Hong Kong move, we then caught the Star Ferry back across to Hong Kong Island, rode the Escalator up into SoHo and finished our night in Lan Kwai Fong!

Long live Bruce Lee

Monday was a public holiday in Hong Kong—Chung Yeung Festival—so I had the day off from work. And since Heidi told me long in advance of this trip that a visit to Macau was something she was very interested to squeeze into her itinerary, we paid a visit to the former Portuguese colony to spend the day. (First, we fit in a visit to a favorite local greasy spoon, Cheung Sing Cafe, where we indulged in fried beef noodles and Singapore fried vermicelli!)

On a nice afternoon, there's really only one spot to go for lunch in Macau: Nga Tim Cafe, a sleepy little eatery sheltered by the arches of Largo Eduardo Marques, within earshot of the plop-plop of its fountain commemorating the fisherman of Coloane's 1910 victory over the pirates who terrorized the island when it was a little-known outpost at the far end of Portugal's mighty empire. With some refreshing sangria complemented by clams in white wine, roast suckling pig, crunchy cod fritters and those fluffy Portuguese rolls the chefs of Macau make so well, the meal was the stuff of legend. Ho bao, again. And again... and again. (It still didn't prevent us from paying a visit to Lord Stowe's for their signature egg tarts. When in Macau...)

Overlooking Largo Eduardo Marques

Wandering around Coloane is an incredible experience. Beam a first time visitor there from a remote location, and I guarantee they'll be completely confused as to where they've arrived. The Portuguese street tiles configured into junks, sunsets, and other icons of Macanese life lend an Iberian air to the place; the dried seafood stores send strong scents of Asia; the colonial facades with their pale pastel hues look straight out of a centuries-old European postcard, but the signs are almost universally bi-lingual, with Portuguese and Chinese names for each street, shop and square. It's a quiet yet breathtaking place to soak it all in, and begin to unravel the mysteries of Macau.

Coloane Sunset

For better or for worse, Macau has become known to the world as a gambling Mecca, as Asia's Vegas, where fortunes are made and lost over a roulette wheel or game of black jack. The casinos have played a huge role in Macau for centuries, but to truly get to know the place, you have to get far away from the glittering lights, to the places like Coloane.

We couldn't find a taxi back to the Macau Peninsula, but before long a bus came by that was headed in our direction. It was a long ride criss-crossing nearly the entirety of Macau, but owing to our limited time, it was also pretty much a private tour of the place, until the last bit when the bus started to fill up with locals. We hopped off at the Macau Tower and began a long, slow wander around the UNESCO World Heritage sights of the old city.

Every time I walk these streets, I am so won over that I begin to dream aloud about one day living in Macau. Poor Heidi was treated to an earful that night. True, as long as I have a day job that needs me in an office in Central, it's a far-fetched idea. But assuming one day I'll have the freedom to work from home, or perhaps take some time off from work to simply relax and explore, Macau is high on my list of future places to call home.

After ticking off A Ma Temple, the Moorish Barracks, Lilau Square, a bevy of colonial churches, the famous ruins of Saint Paul's and the Fortaleza do Monte, it was time for a second helping of Sangria, this time in the courtyard of Albergue 1601, which—again—we had all to ourselves. We ordered a Portuguese cheese and meat platter, and watched as the animal-shaped lanterns danced in the moss-covered trees.

A Ma Temple by night

Of course, I couldn't let Heidi leave town without at least a quick shot at her luck at one of the thirty-plus casinos that have spread Macau's fame around the world. The Portuguese first legalized gambling in their colony way back in the 1850s, and in 2007, the tiny place even overtook Las Vegas in terms of gaming revenues. So I'm sure nobody will begrudge us a little fun at the slots at the Grand Lisboa.

The Grand Lisboa

True, we didn't walk away any richer than we'd sat down, but our initial investment kept us going for a little while. And it's hard to sail back to Hong Kong without at least a quick visit to the gaudy, ostentatious behemoths that juxtapose so garishly with the beautiful colonial heritage sites.

Tuesday—alas—was a work day for me. I had a late conference call with a client in New York, so I didn't have to be in the office until 1pm, but I would be stuck there until 10 that night. Since Heidi and I had the morning to recover from an exhausting three days, we grabbed a coffee at Happy Alley, a dog friendly Austrian coffee bar around the corner from my front door, And then we rode the ding ding to Central, where I set her on her way to see the Big Buddha on Lantau Island.

Tramming it to Central, before going our separate ways

When we reconnected for my "dinner hour" before the call, I was still so stuffed from a team lunch that I couldn't eat another mouthful. But we wandered around Sheung Wan for a bit, and when we walked down Cat Street, I recommended Heidi check out Man Mo Cafe, another restaurant vying for my top pick of Hong Kong dining establishments. When I came down to my office lobby after the call ended, I was delightfully surprised to be presented with leftover burgerbuns, one of Man Mo's signature dim sum dishes.

Ana works at a trendy bar called Shore, a few minutes' walk from my office. Now finally finished with work, Heidi and I popped in to pay her a visit—and to enjoy a drink or two on the expansive outdoor terrace. When Ana herself was finished with her shift, we hopped along to Wyndham Street, where we had a round of drinks in one of Hong Kong's premier gin bars, Origin, which has some very photogenic cocktails on offer, including the KGB, which is served in a porcelain bathtub complete with a rubber duck.

Wednesday, as you know, may be my favorite night in Hong Kong, thanks mostly to the Happy Valley horse races that are capped off by Ladies Night in neighboring Wan Chai. I've been pushing Heidi to visit me since pretty much day one, and every time, I've urged her to make sure she ensures she's in town for a Wednesday. So I'm so glad that after a long day at work—and Heidi's visit to the Hong Kong Museum of History—we were able to reunite in Happy Valley. My colleagues Mike and Carlo joined, in addition to Praw, who was in town from our Bangkok office.

Wednesday night at Happy Valley Racetrack

It was great to finish off Heidi's time in Hong Kong with a bang, before heading to the airport super early the next morning for to kick start our adventures in Cambodia!

Requiem for HK Magazine

"Here's a great resource about life in Hong Kong," Kevin told me one day late in 2009, as we walked into DotCod—an old school fish and chips restaurant in Central—for lunch. My then-new colleague picked up two copies of a magazine and handed one to me. "It comes out each week and will tell you all about what's going on here." 

I guess I'd been in town less than a month at this point, and it was my first encounter with the legendary HK Magazine, an invaluable guide to all the happenings, histories, quirks and secrets of the incredible city I've been fortunate to call home for the nearly seven years that have since passed. 

Coming out every Thursday (though officially dated Friday) and distributed for free to hundreds of bars, restaurants and shops around town, HK Magazine has been an essential ingredient of my Hong Kong life from that day onward. It would be impossible to tally up all the great eateries, pubs, deals and cultural events that first appeared on my radar by thumbing through its helpful pages. 

Although it's sad to have to write this, today's issue of HK Magazine is, unfortunately, its last. After being sold to South China Morning Post a couple of years ago, which itself was then sold to Alibaba Group, the magazine announced a little over a week ago that its days were numbered, another victim of the increasingly precarious existence of traditional print media in the internet age. Advertising revenues were falling, they said, and profitability was way down, so after twenty-five years, the magazine was ceasing publication. 

Hong Kong is a city of endless change. Old buildings are constantly being torn down and replaced by swanky high rises; friends get job offers in new cities or decide it's time to return to their home countries; restaurants and shops shut on the drop of a hat and new ones take their places (sometimes not until years later, if the landlords can't find affluent tenants able to afford the astronomical rents); and neighborhoods you'd rarely heard mentioned become the new it places to see and be seen. 

But some things, you'd hope at least, are immune from this syndrome. The Peak will always be there on clear days to dazzle you with its out-of-this-world view; the Star Ferry will still be waiting to whisk you over to the Kowloon side; the iconic trams will continue ding-dinging their way across the north shore of Hong Kong Island just as they've done for more than one-hundred years; American sailors will keep flooding into Wan Chai each time their boat makes a port call here; and the horses will eternally run circles around Happy Valley Racetrack on Wednesday evenings long after I'm gone. Until last week, I would have thought the regular publication of HK Magazine surely had its place in that immortal echelon of Hong Kong mainstays. 

Of course, life here will continue in a relatively normal fashion without the magazine, but the witty humor found in its columns, the colorful artwork gracing its cover, the expert insight into this city's intricacies peppered throughout its pages and, above all, the clear display of passion for the place it represented so well, will be sorely missed. 

For the past couple of years, I've been saving my favorite issues of HK Magazine, dreaming of a distant day when I can decorate a study in my own house or apartment with the framed images of the place I love most. So, in memory of all HK Magazine has given me, I thought I'd take this opportunity to post a few of those covers that most grabbed my attention. 

The earliest issue I can find is the Christmas edition from 2011, when I had only been in Hong Kong a mere two years. At the time, I felt like I knew it all, but now that I'm on the cusp of my seventh anniversary, I have a different perspective. 

Over the years, HK Magazine has taught me more about Hong Kong's typical local street food than anything else, from pineapple buns and fish balls to egg waffles and traditional milk tea.

A highlight every spring was the magazine's sarcastic preview of the booziest weekend on the social calendar, the Rugby Sevens. 

A simple but splendid cover from December 2012, with a traditional "chop" (or seal) and plenty of tips inside

I love the bold lines and atypical placement of the subject of this cover from June 2014.

In this summertime issue, the magazine guided readers through the sometimes-stressful process of organizing a daylong boat party. The carefree artwork, without even a pretense of realism, still somehow manages to encapsulate the magic of a typical Hong Kong junk trip. 

I love this cover from March of 2014, encouraging Hong Kong stay-cations with an illustration of a couple basking in the glories of a rooftop swimming pool overlooking our glittering skyline.

The magazine loved to turn tradition on its ear, like in this cover featuring an ancient Chinaman riffing on his electric guitar in the mist-shrouded hills of old Cathay.

The stunning fold-out cover of the one-thousandth issue from June 2013 remains the gold standard. I spent most of that summer in the USA, but trusty Sarah sought out a copy for me to add to my collection when I returned to Hong Kong in September. I think the artwork epitomizes pretty much everything I love most about the magical city I call home.

This nostalgic watercolor of a bygone Hong Kong street scene shows a local hawker roasting chestnuts, still a common treat in the colder months of the year.

One of the things I love most about many of the covers is the artistic rendition of iconic Hong Kong treasures, like the green tin stalls set up across town selling all manners of goods. 

A strong contender for my favorite cover, the 2012 Valentine's Day issue suggested ideas for cheap dates in the SAR.

Mimicking the iconic West Side Story movie poster, this issue from September 2013 introduced many readers to the up-and-coming neighborhoods to the west of Sheung Wan, including Shek Tsong Tsui and Sai Ying Pun. Previously uncharted territory, both places are now firmly entrenched in the social life of many a Hong Kong expat.

Issues like this one from October of 2012 helped me unlock the secrets of Hong Kong's history hidden behind something as small as a road sign, mailbox or johnny pump. 

HK Magazine ushered in 2015's Year of the Goat with this cockeyed depiction of jockeys rounding a final turn not upon horses but rather the year's caprine mascots. As you probably guessed, the racing enthusiast in me was immediately smitten with it!

Fittingly, last week's penultimate issue advised drinking at Club Seven and other thrifty ways to make the most of a night out without digging deep into your wallet. 

Today's bittersweet final issue, depicting a melancholy shopkeeper shutting the traditional metal gate on his store

You will be missed, HK Magazine, but you'll not be forgotten. Thanks for helping me fall in love with this place so fast, so hard and so true. 

September to Remember

Well, talk about a whirlwind trip home! I've been back in Hong Kong for a whole week now, but between September 9th and 18th, I got to spend another incredible eight days with my family and friends in the tri-state area, the last bit of my twenties that I'll get to enjoy in my home country.

For the first time in the seven years since I moved overseas, my flight touched down at JFK instead of Newark International Airport. You see, when I booked this set of flights, I knew I'd be venturing straight into Manhattan upon arrival instead of heading to my family's house in Central Jersey. And since airfares to either Newark or JFK were literally identical (and both flights depart Hong Kong within fifteen minutes of each other), I thought I'd try something new.

Let me just say, I don't think I'll ever fly into JFK again! Landing just around 11pm, I didn't get to Heidi's apartment until nearly 2 in the morning! For whatever reason, I opted to take the subway all the way from the airport to 72nd Street. While it was surely a bargain at a single $2.75 swipe of my Metrocard, the late hours (not to mention alterations to the E train due to construction) meant that I had to switch trains twice, with painfully long waits each time. Let's just say, few gin and tonics have ever tasted so well deserved as the one Heidi prepared for me upon arrival.

Wide awake early on Saturday morning, I made my way down to the Financial District for brunch with a stellar group of friends. Bottomless glasses of champagne at my old haunt, Harry's at Hanover Square, with some of my best pals made for a memorable brunch indeed. And we followed it up with a few al fresco drinks on Stone Street under the glorious September sun.

Before the day was out, we had a tasty sushi dinner, a couple of hours of karaoke and my first visit to the legendary McSorely's, claimed to be New York's oldest watering hole.

The anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th always make for a somber but poignant day, and I always feel very fortunate when I'm able to return to the States and spend that day with my family. Me and my cousin Chris met near Ground Zero on Sunday morning to attend the memorial service, and we spent a bit of time at the spot where Chris' brother, my cousin Joseph, has his name engraved, while so many other names were read out. Chris' son, Julian, came, too, and Joseph's best friend Arthur was there with his son, Luca, as well.

The spot where Joseph's name is engraved at the memorial

Afterwards we headed to my aunt and uncle's home in Brooklyn, where my dad and sister were waiting. As I said, it's always a tough day, but to spend it with family is about the only way to spend it. 

One of the reasons I was able to pull this trip off was because I managed to squeeze several work visits in Manhattan into my itinerary. Thus, I could take a minimal amount of vacation days by justifying the days with meetings as working days. And on Monday afternoon at 3pm I was in Manhattan again, this time for work! 

The ferry ride to Hoboken afterwards was a great mode of transport to the spot where I was meeting Danielle for some drinks and Monday Night Football. It was fun to spend a night out with my sister and her friends, and I'm glad I got to spend some time in Hoboken, in my opinion an overlooked gem of a town across the river from Manhattan.

My dad and I spent a lot of the week I was home cleaning up the house, and although it might sound strange, it was great fun. Dusting off old books and knickknacks from the past and remembering all the good family memories, it was quite a poignant string of days.

It's also perhaps strange to note that one of my favorite home activities is one of the simplest: going to the supermarket with my dad to stock up on groceries and other household necessities. It's the little actions of daily American life that are totally missing from my expat life in Hong Kong. Driving around my hometown spending time with the old man is something I'll always look forward to when I return to New Jersey for visits.

One day while home, my dad suggested we order a pizza pie from my local favorite, Ciro's, just around the corner from the house. And when I was handed the change upon picking up the pie (half plain, half vodka sauce, in case you were wondering), I noticed I had, at long last, been given a Missouri quarter.

Back in Carl Sandberg Middle School, in 1999 or early 2000, I bought a large map of the United States with depressions for each states' quarter. I immediately began filling it in, and over the ensuing seventeen years, I slowly made progress until Missouri was the last remaining quarter needed to complete the map. I was oh-so excited when I realized I had finally reached my goal!

Before I knew it, it was Saturday, and after breakfast with my sister, cousin and aunt on Staten Island, I made my way to Manhattan, meeting up with my friends Heidi, Rusty and Abbey at Cipriani Dolce in Grand Central Station.

With literally seconds to spare, I was aboard the MetroNorth train taking me to Cold Spring for the wedding of Lisa and Tak. Seeing old friends and an obviously over-the-moon bride and groom made for a memorable finale to my trip home. I was sad to leave about three quarters of the way through the reception, but I had a plane to catch, and the taxi was waiting in the parking lot to whisk me to Newark for my return to Hong Kong.

As hard as it was to leave, I can bask in the great memories of another stellar trip home! See you next time, New Jersey!

New Adventures in Old Batavia

At the tail end of 2012, I took a ferry from Singapore to Bintan, an Indonesian island only a few hours' ride from my then-home. So impressed was I that upon returning to the Lion City thereafter, I predicted on this blog that the country would become "a frequent destination for me in 2013."

Well, as proud as I am to point out my accurate prophesies when they come to pass, I am equally deficient at highlighting forecasts that turn out to be dead wrong. In reality, it took until last Wednesday evening—in other words, nearly four full years—for me to set foot in Indonesia for the second time. It was for a quick business trip barely forty-eight hours in length, but it was enough to confirm for me what a fool I've been to wait so long to return.

Between meetings and work, I loved exploring the Indonesian capital, and I am happy to report that in spite of the smog and horrendous traffic jams, Jakarta's innumerable charms well outweigh any negative side effects.

Simply walking or driving around a new city is something I find endlessly, ineffably enjoyable. In Jakarta, I loved just reading the signage, mostly because of how quirky written Indonesian appears to a native English speaker. Similar to written Malaysian, words often look like childlike misspellings. Indonesians get around in taksis, while away the hours at a kafe, upload their fotos to Instagram and catch the train at the stasiun.

My hotel was, to coin a phrase, a diamond in the rough. Jakarta isn't necessarily known for being a polished metropolis, but the Hermitage, a heritage hotel in a restored Dutch colonial building, is a real stunner. The next time I find myself back in town, I'll do my very best to stay there again. I was upgraded to a deluxe suite, and the marble floors and luxurious sitting room made me feel like a true executive.

The common areas of the hotel were impeccable, from the antique-strewn lobby to the airy rooftop swimming pool, with sweeping views over the low-lying neighborhood all the way across to the dense, skyscraper-lined business district.

By the time I finally arrived at the Hermitage on Wednesday evening, there was little to do but settle in to my room, watch some television and fall asleep on the comfortable bed. The next morning, I awoke early and headed out to explore Menteng, the district where the hotel is located. Funnily enough, it's the same quarter where a young Barrack Obama lived and attended school during his childhood years in Southeast Asia. Before long, I found a trendy kafe around the corner where I had a single origin Sumatran coffee before I had to suit up and head downtown for the work portion of the trip.

Friday morning, bright and early, I was in Kota Tua, the town of Old Batavia, the epicenter of Dutch colonial Jakarta many moons ago. The morning sun was just beginning to warm the cobble stones of the central square, with its noble edifices overlooking the start of a new day. I grabbed an outdoor table at Cafe Batavia and ordered a coffee and waffles. And afterwards, I checked out two museums, including the Jakarta History Museum in the Stadhuis of the colonial capital.

In the afternoon, I visited the famous National Monument, commonly called Monas, a four hundred foot high obelisk capped with a golden flame. Walking up to the park-like enclosure that is home to the monument, I made friends with Tommie, a twenty-five year old Dutch tourist as confused as I was about how to get in to the grounds themselves, since all the fences and gates seemed shut. 

Eventually we found our way through, bought tickets and took the elevator to the top, for unhindered views in every direction, with a gorgeous breeze eliminating the mid-afternoon humidity. 

Like that, it was nearly time to check out of the Hermitage and head back to the airport. Tommie and I found the time to squeeze in a few last Bintang beers and browse the flea market along Jalan Surabaya, but as great as the day had been, I was in no way ready to hop on the flight back home. Alas, I didn't have much of a choice. Around midnight, I was back in the skies on Garuda International's red eye to Hong Kong. 

And you can bet that almost as soon as I scaled the six flights of my Happy Valley walk-up, my new Starbucks mug was placed in the spot of honor on the living room bookshelf. I've said it before, but I'll risk appearing foolish once again. Mark my words: Indonesia will become a frequent destination for me in 2017!