The Lost Blog Post!

It's funny to remember this right now, but for a brief spell in the summer of 2014, I (somewhat) seriously attempted to become a professional blogger! At the time, you may recall, I was coming to the end of eleven glorious months of funemployement, though, of course, I had no idea my next job was right around the corner. For all I knew, it might have been another year before I found steady work. All I did know was that money was scarce, I loved writing and, since I was blogging anyway, why shouldn't I make some extra cash doing it if I could?

Someone—I can't quite remember who anymore—mentioned that a popular Hong Kong website, Localiiz, was searching for freelance bloggers to write about various aspects of city life. So I duly sent across a cover letter and some samples of my work from this blog. 

I got an almost immediate reply from their digital content editor, but the catch was that anything they would published had to be new, meaning everything I sent over as a sample was great as an indication of my style but not something they were able to post on their site. 

She asked me for some original material, and I obliged. I spent an afternoon exploring an old Chinese mansion, ancestral halls and local villages in the New Territories, and instead of documenting my findings on my own blog like I normally would, I instead sent the finished product to Localiiz. 

Well, you all know what happened. I e-mailed that across to the editor on 21 July. She wrote back asking for a few revisions. On the 30th, I interviewed with my current firm and was offered a job the next day. And I never followed up with Localiiz. My grand ambitions as a professional blogger fell by the wayside, having lasted a sum total of ten days. 

Anyway, I stumbled across the e-mail chain while searching for something in my inbox the other day and thought it would be fun to post the results at long last. So after three years (and marking my one-hundred-and-fiftieth post!), here's the account of my day exploring the wilds of Sheung Shui. 

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The New Territories is probably the most ignored, most unloved stretch of Hong Kong, at least for the average expat. Sure, as a new transplant to the city, you’ll probably visit Sha Tin to see the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery. You’ll also be invited on a random hike up there every now and then. And Sai Kung is on many people’s radar as a fun-in-the-sun destination for junks, beaches and seafood. But on the whole, the vast expanse of mountains, satellite towns, rocky bays, walled villages and precious bits of old Hong Kong that have miraculously weathered the decades is overlooked by the masses in favor of closer parts of the territory.

I get it. This city is built on convenience. Hong Kong just might be the most convenient metropolis on earth. Anything more than a twenty minute taxi ride is “too long” for many people here, and with plenty of great things to see and do on Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and the nearby outlying islands, you don’t necessarily feel any motivation to go further afield to discover something new.

But believe me, the treasures hiding in the New Territories are well worth the effort it takes to find them. And the other day, I decided it was time once again to put in that little bit of effort and see what happened.

To start, I took the train to Sheung Shui, which is just one stop shy of the border crossings at Lo Wu and Lok Ma Chau. From Causeway Bay, I had to change trains not once, not twice, but three times, first at Admiralty, then at Mongkok and finally at Kowloon Tong, where I boarded the KCR towards the Mainland.

As a satellite town, Sheung Shui is a cool little area to explore. In and of itself, I guess it’s not necessarily worth an hour’s MTR ride, but it’s a gateway to a fascinating area, and warrants at least a bit of time to wander its colorful streets and markets, with an intriguing mix of high-rises and old fashioned three-story shophouses. However, my main goal that day was not Sheung Shui but the Man clan mansion of Tai Fu Tai, in the hills of San Tin, a short bus ride to the west.

After an excruciatingly frustrating search for the proper bus, I was finally en route. And from the upper deck of the 76K, I was treated to some pretty stellar views of the lush surrounding mountains piercing blue skies. Every imaginable shade of green seemed to find its place here, augmented, no doubt, by the shadows cast by the billowy clouds.

Tai Fu Tai is located in a neighborhood of San Tin called Wing Ping Tsuen. The mansion is believed to have been built in 1865, and it’s a rare survivor of its era, now immaculately restored and open to visitors. As you approach, you’ll see the simple iron gate left swung open, inviting you to enter and explore.

To my eyes, the building appears much older than it actually is. The reason is probably how startlingly different it looks compared to the opulent mansions built in Hong Kong by the colonial bigwigs around the same time. (Government House, for example, was actually constructed ten years earlier.) There are no windows in the building’s outer walls, so interior light is provided from central courtyards. And instead of sweeping grand staircases, the second level is accessed by narrow, ladder-like steps.

But the wealth and good taste of its owners is confirmed by the details visible in every corner. Embellishing the walls of the mansion are a mixture of Chinese and Western touches: blue and white tiles illustrating scenes of rural life, brightly colored bas-reliefs of flowers, fish and other animals, elegant European painted glass and intricate plaster moldings that would seem right at home in Versailles.

Portraits of some of the original inhabitants hang in the main hall, namely the first master of the house, Man Chung Luen, his two wives, and his eldest and third son. A guide informed me that Man Chung Luen actually had eight sons as well as numerous daughters, but he couldn’t tell me why these particular ones were the only children on display. All the while apologizing for his “poor” English—which was, in reality, quite impressive—he continued to fill me in on the personal and architectural history of the house.

Man Chung Luen was a member of the 21st generation of the Man clan, and he was renowned for his philanthropy as well as for his successful business endeavors. On the second level of his home, he built two big bedrooms, “one for each wife,” the friendly guide explained with an impish smirk. A kitchen and a lavatory are also preserved, and the Leisure and Cultural Services Department feels compelled to post a sign stating that the lavatory is open to the public for historical, not practical, purposes.

The guide asked me to accompany him outside to explain some features of the main façade, and he also offered to take a photo of me in front of the mansion. As the only visitor, I was given true VIP treatment, and it was nice to learn so much about the building from such an enthusiastic, passionate source.

Tai Fu Tai is by no means enormous. In thirty minutes or so, I had thoroughly explored the entirety of the place, and next set out for the Man Lung Fun Ancestral Hall, only a few minutes away.

Wandering the tiny alleys of the neighborhood between the two attractions was fascinating for me. There is an abundance of old residential buildings—running the gamut from decrepit to immaculate—that retain characteristic Chinese touches like red or black roof tiles, barred windows and balconies. It also appears to be pretty common to adorn your outer walls with colorful tiles depicting impressive landscapes, a quirk I haven’t encountered anywhere else in the SAR. The tallest buildings were only three or four stories high, but Shenzen, with its mighty towers, seemed close enough to touch, just sitting there across some weedy, overgrown fields: old China and new, side by side.

Riding back towards Causeway Bay later that afternoon, I kicked myself for having waited almost five years to visit the area. I also made a promise that I’d be back soon to explore some more. Yet at the same time, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that no matter how long I wind up living here, it will still take at least a lifetime before I uncover all there is to find in this crazy place called Hong Kong.

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Well there you have it. I suppose it's not as exciting as discovering a lost Van Gogh or finding a copy of the Declaration of Independence in your attic, but I'm always endeavoring to keep this blog as thorough as possible, so I'm glad this forgotten moment is now officially a chapter in my adventure of a lifetime! 

Fredric at Two

On this date two years ago, I made a big decision that changed my life. One day earlier, I'd met the most adorable little puppy in the Stanley SPCA. His name was Hank, and when I found his picture online, I felt my heart skip a beat. I'd been searching for a dog for awhile by that point—the name Fredric had been picked out long before—and I had a certain suspicion that Hank might be the right guy for the job. 

So during the annual dragon boat races in Stanley, I made a pit stop at the adoption center and fell in love. Ironically, it was Father's Day when I actually brought him home for the first time. It wasn't easy living in a sixth floor walk up, especially considering he didn't know how to use stairs yet! I had to carry him out each time we went for a "walk," and it was like having a fish on the end of a line in the beginning!

Eleni told me during those first few weeks that "the difficult job of raising a puppy is the price you pay for having a dog." Wise words. Shoes, books and DVDs were destroyed over those first months. He was a pooch of boundless energy and sharp nails. He peed all over my apartment, scratched permanent gouges into the walls and unloaded layers of fur that will likely never fully vanish. But he has been so full of affection from the very start that I've never really had cause to regret my decision. 

Now he's a firm fixture in my life. I can't wait to see his wagging tail when I open the door after a long day at work, and even the stairs seem worth climbing to get to him. 

To celebrate our cotton anniversary, I took Fredric up to the Racetrack Fire Memorial in Causeway Bay after work today. I've mentioned before how much he loves the place, and as I expected, he went crazy when he got inside the gate, jumping about and finding sticks to play with. 

Normally Wednesday is racing night for me, as you well know by now. And with the season about to end and the summer hiatus on the horizon, I'd normally not skip a meeting. But I decided it was fitting to spend tonight with my little mutt curled up beside me at home, just relaxing and enjoying the time together. 

Here's to many more happy memories, Fredric! 

The Judgment of Macau

A year or so ago I popped into a wine shop in Causeway Bay, the entrance of which sits just across from the minibus stop where I often ride home to Happy Valley after jumping off the Island Line of the MTR. Called Cottage Vineyards, it's run by an enthusiastic young lady named Ada, who also organizes frequent wine pairings. Of course, after that first visit, I was added to Ada's distribution list, and I have been constantly kept abreast of all manner of events, from lunches and dinners to international trips abroad to visit vineyards and restaurants. 

I've always wanted to attend one of these extravagant-sounding meals, but, sadly, it had never been in the cards, largely due to scheduling reasons. However, a month or so ago, Ada sent me a message about an upcoming dinner at Zi Yat Heen, the Michelin-starred stunner at the Four Seasons in Macau, pairing American and French wines alongside seriously decadent Cantonese cuisine. It's not much of a secret how much I love Macau. What's more, at long last, the timing fit well with my schedule. So I eagerly booked two places and asked Courtney if she'd like to come along.

Courtney has recently begun a great new job with a very generous boss. It turns out, he is also a big fan of Macau, so much so that he seems to have a bottomless supply of free ferry vouchers at his disposal, in addition to the ability to book complimentary hotel rooms for himself and his friends whenever he likes. So with Grand Class passage arranged for us on the Turbo Jet and two nights' accommodation sorted at the JW Marriott (enconsed within Macau's iconic Galaxy complex), we were in business.  

Ada titled her dinner The Judgment of Macau, in reference to the famous Judgment of Paris in 1976, when French judges, during a blind tasting, declared California wines superior to French ones in a landmark decision. Playfully recalling that historic day, in front of each of us sat a ballot, where we would be rating the wines themselves and also how well they paired with the food. But the first thing you noticed on the table wasn't the ballot, it was the assortment of ten individually numbered wine glasses of so many shapes and sizes spread across each place setting.

The meal was to consist of an introductory reception followed by eight courses. Every course would be paired with at least one wine, while some of the main dishes were actually accompanied by two!

Over generous pours of one of the most easily drinkable sparkling rosés I've ever had the good fortune to sample, Ada explained about the regions we'd be experiencing that night: France's Jura appellation, its "smallest and most mysterious," according to our expert host, and Washington State wines from the USA.

We were also introduced to some of our fellow diners, including Kris, a fellow yank and new general manager of the Four Seasons, and Henry, a director for Macau's most visible gaming conglomerate, SJM, which operates eight (and counting) of the territory's iconic casinos. As the meal wore on—and the pours increased in frequency—we met more of the friendly faces sitting at our large circular table.

Ada opened the dinner by explaining that all true wine lovers are foodies at heart; "We love wine because we love food; wine is the stage on which the food is presented."

The first course was an appetizer trio of bite-sized morsels of diverse origins: burdock root in XO sauce, perfect roast suckling pig garnished with gold leaf and crispy white eel with sesame seeds and black vinegar. This was paired with the same sparkling rosé we'd been given during the reception, and I'm certainly not complaining. We were recommended to start from right to left, meaning the eel first, followed by the suckling pig and lastly the burdock root, which, incidentally, I'd never even heard of before. All three were sensational.

Next up was a kind of salad of assorted mushrooms (fungus, according to the menu) in yuzu vinegar. This description hardly does justice to the deliciousness of the dish—a common quandary when Western conceptions encounter Asian cuisine, where unfamiliar or unconventional ingredients belie centuries of expertise and mastery of culinary prowess.

The dish was paired with a Washington Riesling. Henry was sitting to my left, and we were enjoying comparing notes about the wines and how well they meshed with the food. "I didn't get any of the new wine," Courtney pointed out, almost dejected. "Look there," I replied, pointing nearly halfway around the table. Yes, the array of glasses arranged before each diner stretched so far that the most recently-filled addition was nearly beyond her peripheral vision!

The meal continued with a winter melon soup with crab meat and assorted seafood. "Winter melon is perfect in the summer, because it's cold and offsets the humidity outside," Ada explained as she got up from her table and made her way to ours. "And note how perfectly each aspect of the seafood is prepared, how the shrimp is impeccably cooked. This soup is unbelievably elegant."

At this point, both Henry and I were eagerly marking our ballots according to the designated one-to-three star system described at the top of the page. I looked across at Courtney's page a few moments later to see a spattering of check marks in random places.

One of the star attractions of the meal was up next: crispy beef tenderloin with out-of-this-world homemade curry. The servers came around with additional sauce to drizzle on our plates. "I told them they had to prepare extra," Ada continued. "There's no way people would be satisfied with that small amount initially on the dish." 

This was truly sensational. The tenderloin was encased in a crispy pastry, and it was melt-in-your-mouth perfect. "Each course just keeps getting better and better," I blurted out at this point, and everybody at the table voiced their agreement. "This is like Asian beef Wellington," I joked. "To Asian beef Wellington," Ada lifted her glass, and we all clinked and toasted one another.

The dishes—and the wines—just kept coming. Next up was the steamed coral crab with Hua Diao wine and chicken oil. The crab was enormous, and presented in a huge bowl that was placed on the lazy susan in the middle of the communal table. But with over one hundred wine glasses literally sitting between the diners and the food, there was no way we could possible reach it without creating a sea of broken glass. Helpfully, the staff took the crab and disappeared back into the kitchen, emerging a few moments later with individually plated portions for each of us. 

Last among the savory main courses came the pork belly pyramid. "You see a dish like this on a menu and you know the chef must be at least fifty-five years old," Ada explained. "That's how long it takes working in a kitchen to learn how to do this properly." I don't know what to say. I've simply never tasted anything like this before.

To boot, it was paired with wine number eight, a cabernet from Washington's Kiona Red Mountain Estate which just blew my socks off. The chef came out at this point and Courtney literally kissed him in appreciation. ("The most exquisite Chinese meal of our lives," we later concurred.)

The first dessert course was a double boiled pear with Osmanthus, paired with a sweet ice wine (again from Kiona Red Mountain). While Chinese cuisine is very popular in the Western world, their desserts don't always translate as well to our palates as the more savory dishes. However, I'm happy to report that this one was perfect. I was on a first name basis with everyone at the table now, and we were all nattering on about our favorite wines and our favorite courses, continuing to learn about our individual histories and career trajectories and, of course, how we had all first encountered Ada. 

Slowly, though, I began to realize that Courtney's most recent cigarette break had stretched on much longer than usual. This was followed by a quick, very discreet tap on my shoulder: "Miss Courtney is in the lobby, and we've arranged for a limousine to take you back to the JW Marriott. She's having trouble standing and walking."

I bade a quick farewell to our new friends, on behalf of Courtney and myself, wolfing down the last of the baked walnut puffs and chilled apple jellies that encompassed the final course, Chinese petit fours. You know it's been a good evening when it ends with your dining companion being pushed through the lobby of the Four Seasons in a wheelchair! Oh, what a dinner! Oh, what a night!

Attack of the Public Holidays

Don't think for a moment that I'm complaining, but we've had a ton of public holidays of late. In fact, there have been five days off in as many weeks! Due to a combination of festivals based on both the solar and lunar calendars, most Aprils and Mays are heavy on the holidays. And this year, that was certainly true!

In general, you can classify Hong Kong's public holidays into two very broad categories: those linked with a standout iconic showcase and the more general event-less day off. While its always pleasant to have time off of work, its especially nice when that time also provides some insight into the cultural and historic traditions of the city. And so I think I love those holidays falling into that first category most of all. 

First up among the recent crop of holidays was Ching Ming Festival, one of two annual holidays—one in spring and one in fall—for local families to go "tomb sweeping," where they visit the graves of their ancestors for maintenance and cleaning. Blessed with beautiful weather this year, Ching Ming certainly proved memorable. Courtney and I opted to take Fredric to Stanley to enjoy the start of spring. 

On the beach that day, we met a very friendly Australian named Pete and his awesome dog, Max, who enjoyed playing with Fredric in the sand. Pete was in the planning stages of a trip to Burma, so we hit it off quickly, with my travel tips flowing freely. And we exchanged contact details so we could meet up again. 

All in all, it was a wonderful day of food and drinks in the sunshine. In addition to our time on the beach, Courtney and I had lunch at Lucy's, browsed the market and enjoyed some libations at Smuggler's Inn before heading home. 

Just on the heels of Ching Ming, Easter was fast approaching. And, lucky us here in Hong Kong, we get not only Good Friday off work but also Easter Monday. As I detailed in my previous post, the Hong Kong International Film Festival—which almost always coincides with the Easter holidays—provides a great excuse to use these free days off work to take advantage of the amazing movie screenings happening all across the SAR. 

Hong Kong's Labour Day always takes place on the first of May, falling on a Monday this year. I met up with new friend Pete and his buddy Pong for dim sum in Aberdeen, expecting some tasty dumplings and perhaps a few beers. What I got was much more than I bargained for! Midway through the meal, Pete mentioned he and Pong were planning to take his boat out afterwards to spend a day on the water. If I wanted to join, they were happy to have me along!

I think you can guess what I decided to do with my free afternoon. We sailed from Aberdeen, where Pete keeps his boat, to Lamma Island, and then back again. It was an absolutely perfect day, with sunshine, clean water and blue skies. And I even got a brief lesson in driving the boat, as the sunset and the tunes blared! 

We had one work day in between the Labour Day celebrations and the next holiday, Buddha's Birthday, which took place yesterday. Buddha's Birthday surely ranks up there with the Tung Ng Festival and Mid-Autumn Fesitval as my top trio of Hong Kong holidays. Perhaps its no surprise that all three of these days fall into the "standout iconic event" category, and so I try my best to stay in town for them each year, in spite of how tempting it might be to take a trip. 

I know I've written about it before, but Buddha's Birthday is marked by the spectacular Cheung Chau Bun Festival, which occurs on my favorite of all of Hong Kong's outlying islands. True, the island is crowded to the brim with tourists and it can be a little overwhelming at times, but the atmosphere is unbeatable, and I don't think I'll ever voluntarily choose to miss out on the festivities.

Yesterday, I was up and at 'em early, with Fredric and I catching the 8:30am ferry from Central Ferry Pier 5. A little later, my friend Danijela arrived on the island, and we hiked a bit before stopping for lunch alongside the parade route. Each year, the local population create floats gently spoofing local public figures. The floats are especially noteworthy because of the hidden support beams concealed within that make it look as it the town's children are flying through the streets, precariously balanced on one another!

After Danijela left, Fredric and I took a nap on the beach, savoring our last hours before it was back to the grind. As I get ready to brace myself for some solid weeks of work, don't feel too bad! Tung Ng Festival's dragon boat races are coming up next, so we'll have another mid-week respite from work before June is here!

That's a Wrap

The forty-first installment of the Hong Kong International Film Festival drew to a close a few nights ago, concluding what is very likely my favorite fortnight of this city's cultural landscape. Filmmakers and cinéastes from every corner of the globe pour into the Pearl of the Orient, bringing with them their passion and their art. For the seventh year in a row, I anxiously studied the festival schedule, marking up the films I definitely wanted to see, and the ones that piqued my interest for further investigation. In the end, I laid out an itinerary to see around twenty, knowing my final tally would be a bit lower, with life getting in the way. 

This year's festival began on a disappointing note, but quickly found its footing to take its place among the best years. On Wednesday the 12 of April, my friend Yvonne and I met at the Grand Cinema in Kowloon to see Wiener-Dog, the first of two films I had a ticket for that night. It has escaped my initial perusal of the festival catalog, but on a subsequent review I wound up investigating further. A cast to die for: Ellen Burstyn, Danny DeVito, Greta Gerwig and Julie Deply... A hilarious trailer. It seemed a perfect kickoff for the two week event. Unfortunately, the film itself was a big disappointment, and I was so depressed at its conclusion that I opted to skip the second film I had a ticket for that night and simply rush home to cuddle with Fredric. 

Thursday was the eve of the following day's public holiday for Good Friday. I was exhausted and went straight home after work, debating whether or not to even go to the 10pm screening I had a ticket for: Fritz Lang's 1921 Destiny. Of course, I convinced myself to man up and make the short trek from Happy Valley to City Hall in Central. Seeing a 1920s classic restored on the big screen is an event in itself, so although I can't say Destiny has taken its place among any list of all-time favorites, I'm very glad I got a chance to experience it. 

But Friday was when my movie-going kicked into high gear. Loving, a dramatization of the 1960s landmark supreme court case Loving v. Virginia, which decided once and for all that interracial marriage was Constitutional. Through powerful performances by Ruth Nega and Joel Edgerton, the story of the Lovings was touchingly brought to life, and the director and his crew did a fantastic job of evoking that era with equal parts nostalgia for the music and fashions of the day yet an honest assessment of the racial undertones that made life so difficult, so unfair, for so many. 

My second film of the day was François Ozon's newest psychological drama, Frantz, which was among the films I was so excited to see. He took the skeleton of his story from an old Ernst Lubitsch drama called Broken Lullaby, but, being Ozon, he fleshed it out, added an entirely new second half, and created a thought-provoking epic about love, death, family and friendship. It's the kind of film who's memory lingers long after the screen goes black.

Saturday I caught an amazing British film called Their Finest, which told the story of the government's propaganda film department during WWII and the morale-boosting flicks they created for a war-weary public. The stirring adventure yarn provided a rousing film-within-a-film while the story of the lives of those whose talents went into its creation added a human element. The end result was certainly one of the most touching and entertaining films I caught this year.

The second film of the day was Jim Jarmush's newest personal drama, Paterson, set in my home state of New Jersey. It's a quiet film about a NJ Transit bus driver whose girlfriend dreams of making it big as a country singer or baker while he earns their collective daily bread on the streets of the titular city. His passion is poetry, which he writes in a notebook every spare moment he can find. The film, deceptively simple, traces a week in his life, and while nothing truly momentous occurs, it's a beautiful little tome on one man's innermost thoughts and how he interacts with the world around him.

Of course, Easter Sunday isn't really a day for movie-going, but there was only one screening of Nocturnal Animals at this year's festival, and there was no way I was missing it. From its mesmerizing opening title sequence through the ambiguous, devastating conclusion, I was truly riveted from start to finish. I was in awe of the crop of top-flight performers, many of whom had little more than glorified cameos (Army Hammer, Isla Fisher, Michael Sheen, Laura Linney) while the main cast (Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon and Aaron Taylor-Johnson) knocked my socks off with their dynamite work.

One of the major highlights of each festival installment is the bevvy of "Restored Classics," which this year included Akira Kurasowa's monumental Seven Samurai. Easter Monday, which is a holiday in Hong Kong, was absolutely gorgeous, weather-wise. Still, I opted to shut myself inside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre for nearly four hours to catch it. Seeing the iconic classic for the first time—although I own it on DVD—was nothing short of breathtaking.

Back to work on Tuesday after the four day weekend, I could hardly believe that the festival was entering its second week. My movie for the night was Revenger, for some odd reason the title the HKIFF Society decided to rename Walter Hill's newest venture, The Assignment. Hill explained that his goal was to update the B movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the end result was a wild ride. Sigourney Weaver was unforgettable as a half-crazed surgeon (a la Hannibal Lector) who took her revenge on the hired hit man who murdered her brother by performing an involuntary sex change operation. Michelle Rodriguez was equally memorable as Frank, the hoodlum now coming to terms with his new self while concocting the punishment for the woman who destroyed his world.

Taken from the Star Ferry, on my way over to catch Revenger

I normally plan my "two-movie days" on the weekends or public holidays, but Wednesday, in spite of working a full string of hours at the office, I managed to squeeze a double header into my evening. I caught the Star Ferry again to cross from Central to Tsim Sha Tsui, and I met up with my friends Yvonne and Danijela for the quirky Serbian flick On the Milky Road. Danijela, being Serbian, was both proud and delighted to show off a slice of her country so far away from home, and she kept whispering asides to me throughout the screening.

Description of On the Milky Road, posted in the lobby of the Cultural Centre

Then Yvonne and I hopped in a taxi to Olympic, where we had tickets to the sold-out screening of Anton Yelchin's final film, Porto, directed by Gabe Klinger. It was his first narrative feature, having cut his teeth as a film critic and documentarian before trying his hand at a new style. To boot, he appeared both before and after the screening to talk about his inspiration, the film making process and the technical side of production. The film was gorgeous to look at, and rich in detail. A longing romantic drama about a French student and American drifter whose lives intersect in the Portuguese city of its title, Porto—needless to say—was made all the more bittersweet knowing the tragic end its young lead actor came to not long after the production wrapped.

Friday might have been the highlight of the entire festival, not simply because the movie I attended itself was mesmerizing, but because its director appeared pre- and post-screening, speaking for over an hour afterwards and fielding questions from the audience. The film in question: Personal Shopper; its director: the great Olivier Assayas. Starring Kristen Stewart as the assistant of a fashion model who may or may not be receiving messages from beyond the grave, Personal Shopper was gripping, thought-provoking and chilling. It was a throwback to those great old thrillers in the Hitchcockian vein, where excitement and fear are built through suspense and innuendo as opposed to blood, gore and special effects. Sitting in the balcony of the Cultural Centre's Grand Theatre, I loved every minute of it.

Olivier Assayas!

Saturday I forwent with movies in favor of a wedding party on Victoria Harbour to celebrate the union of my friends Sven and Vanessa. But it was back to the cinema on Sunday, with a late screening of a Romanian film, Scarred Hearts, in Elements. Filmed in the Academy ratio and mostly comprised of perfectly static shots, Scarred Hearts tells the devastating story of a young writer convalescing from spinal tuberculosis in a seaside sanatorium. He and the other patients try their best to maintain a normal life, in spite of the personal pains and horrors that fill their waking hours. The attention to detail given to the set design and costuming, in addition to the appealing characters, made it a pleasure to watch despite its extreme length.

The festival was entering its final days, and I was both grateful for the films I'd so far experienced and disappointed that I hadn't managed to squeeze in more! So although I was tired after a full Monday in the office, I duly crossed the harbor to catch a screening of Robert Bresson's French classic Pickpocket, which I'd never seen before despite having heard and read so much about it over the years. It was another great opportunity to see one of filmdom's most revered treasures the way it was meant to be seen.

Like that, it was Tuesday, the last day of screenings. I intended to fit in two movies, just as I had intended to do that first night. And just like that night, the first film put me in such a mood that I just wasn't interested in seeing another one afterwards. Fortunately, this time, it was because I had such a feel-good high from movie number one that I simply wanted to wander around the streets of Kowloon savoring the lingering buzz of veritable cinematic euphoria!

The movie was Anne Hui's 2008 homespun drama The Way We Are. Detailing the modest daily lives of a single mom and her young son who befriend an elderly neighbor in Hong Kong's New Territories, the deceptively simple story reveals the importance of family and community. Filled with understated performances focusing on quiet, often wordless personal interaction, The Way We Are ranks among the very best Hong Kong films I've yet seen.

I wandered out of the screening room at the Hong Kong Science Museum and strolled across to the vibrant streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, eyeing the buildings, signs and people with loving attention, trying to pick out the details Ms. Hui had highlighted so poignantly in her magnificent film. I realized in those moments, as I so often do, just how lucky I am to have found myself living for over seven years now in such a special and delightful city. So the 41st Hong Kong International Film Festival ended on the highest of high notes, and I remain absolutely smitten with the place I love to call home.

See you next year!

Seventh Sevens

Yep, that's right... Last weekend, as Hong Kong put on its notorious Rugby Sevens tournament, I realized that this year marked my seventh annual participation in the sensational event. Back in 2011, twenty-four year old Paul made his way into the stadium too late on Saturday morning to gain entry to the already-full South Stand. In 2012, dressed as a penguin, he showed up bright and early... and got in! And it's been a full-proof plan ever since.

My first Sevens in 2011!

I know I've written a post about the Sevens for several years, so I probably wind up repeating myself. But the weekend itself—Friday, Saturday and Sunday—is only a part of the fun. With an estimated ten thousand overseas visitors pouring into Hong Kong for the event, the whole week leading up to it is memorable as well. 

In fact, the Hong Kong Jockey Club moves the Wednesday night races, normally held in Happy Valley, to Sha Tin during Sevens week. I'm convinced it's because they want to avoid any raucous rugby fans wreaking havoc in the centrally-located racetrack. 

Thursday evening, the eve of the kickoff, I went for dinner with my friend Marouen, who lives in Singapore but never fails to venture up to the SAR for Sevens weekend. We later linked up with our friend Lou and Kathy, grabbing drinks in Wan Chai and Lan Kwai Fong, as the night wore on.

Al's Diner on Thursday night

Of course, it was tough to focus on work on Friday, and I left the office a little earlier than I should have, to meet up with a colleague at Staunton's in SoHo. 

A few months ago, one of my favorite SoHo restaurants closed down, Yorkshire Pudding. In my humble opinion, it served both Hong Kong's best bloody mary and eggs benedict, so it was more than a disappointment when I learned it was shutting its doors for the last time. Adding insult to injury, it was replaced with a Burger King, which I promised myself I would never patron. 

However, as we drank our beers at Staunton's, alongside the Escalator, some girls emerged from the neighboring Burger King to pass out flyers advertising Carlsbergs for HKD 10. Incredulously I ventured inside and inquired if one had to also purchase food in order to enjoy the ridiculous beer deal. "Nope, it's just HKD 10 for a Carlsberg," I was told.

"I'll take three please," I said, forking over thirty bucks. So I guess I broke my vow of never buying something from the place. Still, the deal only lasted as long as the weekend, and I never went so far as to purchase any food. So I'm O.K. with it. 

Sevens always comes around quickly, but it really sneaked up on us this year. Although I racked my brain trying to come up with a clever, topical costume, I just ran out of time. On Saturday morning, I grabbed a cheap clown wig and sequin jacket from the "costume closet" in my flat and hoped nobody would ask what I was supposed to be. 

Courtney and I made our way to the South Stand, which was already nearing capacity when we entered just before 8:30am! And the day, as is its custom, just dissipated. I bumped into so many friends who I hadn't seen in such a long while, and it was so great to catch up. Of course, it's all kind of a blur, but a very delightful one.

On Sunday, I met my friends Pierre and Eddy at Hong Kong Stadium, where we opted for seats in the Upper West Stands, so we could actually appreciate some of the sportsmanship on display. It was great to watch some first-class matches, including a dramatic semi-final face-off between the USA and South Africa. It was probably the single best Rugby Sevens game I've ever watched, but sadly South Africa just edged out our boys in extra time.

By the time South Africa and Fiji squared off against each other in the final, I was engrossed. And Fiji tore it apart, shutting out the competition and taking the top prize, as expected. The impressive fireworks shooting from overhead afterwards, and the lights blazing all over the stadium, it was clear once again why this is such a special weekend to all of us in Hong Kong. 

Cheers to you, Rugby Sevens. I promise I'll get a better costume for next year. I'm brainstorming my ideas already!

Last-Minute Getaway

 

On Thursday of last week, I was hoping to enjoy a quiet weekend in Hong Kong. With this weekend's Rugby Seven tournament, I thought a little rest would be in order, to adequately prepare for the madness. But by Friday, I had other plans... I was headed to Bangkok!

Amy was back in Asia, and had spent the past string of days in Singapore with Sonia and Motez, who's wedding will be taking place in Tunisia in August. As a sort of pre-wedding celebration, they had the idea that we would all get together in Bangkok, and even went so far as to treat me to my plane tickets!

As weekend trips go, this one started as a very pleasant surprise but quickly devolved into chaos. 

First, I arrived at the airport only to learn my flight time had been pushed back from 11:55pm to 12:30pm. It was well past then when the Hong Kong Airlines staff were finally ready to board the passengers, in a haphazard, disorganized fashion. I'd say it was nearer 2am by the time we were airborne at last.

Once through customs in Bangkok, I made a beeline for the taxi queue, which was quick and painless. However, a few moments after we began cruising down the highway towards my destination, it began to rain, lightly at first and then, eventually, in a torrential manner! 

The apartment where we were staying, called The Rise, was located off Sukhomvit Soi 39, but just where off Soi 39 remained a mystery to me and the taxi driver. He made a left off the main drag onto Soi 39, and we slowly made our way through the rising flood. I looked out the left-side window, reading the name of each and every building we went past, but I could not locate one called The Rise. On a second round, I sidled across to the right-hand side, but again had no luck.

But before we could attempt a third rotation, the driver pulled over back on Sukhomvit. "Water too high now. Taxi can't go. You must walk."

After arguing that that was a ridiculous suggestion, seeing as it was a monsoon outside and I had no idea where I was going, I eventually decided that I would have to attempt the journey on foot. I placed my phone, passport and wallet deep inside my suitcase, and zipped it tight. And then I just prepared to get drenched.

The water, and I'm not exaggerating, was up to my knees or higher, and my shoes were only going to make matters more difficult, so I had to proceed barefoot! And each time a car would pass, the river through which I was walking would rise with  a wave, sometimes taking the trash bags from one side of the "street" and moving them to the other—the rubbish often slamming into me.

The map I had printed up was useless, impossible to unfold because of how wet it had gotten in my pocket. And all the security guards dutifully seated outside their own condos seemed unfamiliar with The Rise. 

Anyway, I was as wet as humanly possible when I finally found the place, a right turn off the main soi and another right after that! It was at least an hour later by this point, so the rain was showing signs of cooling down and the sky already begin to lighten with Saturday morning's sun. A dripping reunion was in order with Sonia and Amy, but sadly I learned Motez—due to unforeseen visa complications—was unable to join at the last minute.

I hopped straight into the shower, first with all my clothes on, so that the flowing stream of water would cleanse them of any vestiges of the murky, trash-filled water I'd had to wade through to arrive. We hung them up on the balcony to dry afterwards.

After Sonia went to sleep, Amy and I stayed awake for a long while just catching up before getting a few hours' shut eye. 

There's a market in Bangkok, Chatuchak (or the Weekend Market) which is claimed to be among the largest in the world. Located a few steps away from the Mo Chi BTS station, the market is a sprawling complex of shops, stalls and restaurants. It's one of the city's premier attractions, for both tourists and locals alike, so I suppose it's a bit funny that I'd never been before. 

We had an absurdly filling lunch of all the Thai favorites before spending several hours doing our rounds of the stalls and shops. I bought a new pair of flip flops, as the strap of the right shoe I had been wearing had given way earlier in the day. And a little bit later, I also saw a t-shirt that stole my heart, and I had to buy it. The girls similarly loaded up on goodies.

I must admit, although not every market is for me, I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon at this atmospheric place. But, boy, was I ready for a rooftop drink at Sky Train Jazz Bar when we had shopped to our hearts' content. 

You may remember Sky Train, as I had visited on my last trip to the city. Located near the Victory Monument BTS, the bar is housed on the rooftop of a five or six story walk-up with murals on the walls, potted plants all around and a great bevvy of tunes, as the sun set and the cold Singhas kept on flowing. 

And once the sun was set and the night sky had taken control of the city, we hopped in an Uber to Khaosan Road, the backpacker Mecca of Bangkok. Somehow, we were hungry again, and tasty Thai Street food always does the trick.

But as we were wandering along Khaosan after dinner looking for a spot for a drink, I suddenly heard load shrieks and screams to my left. Justin Bieber, I assumed, must have just arrived. It turns out that Katy and Lily, two colleagues from my Bangkok office, had spotted me out of the corner of their eyes!

And after introducing them to Sonia and Amy, we spent the rest of the night dancing, chatting, drinking and—eventually—eating again, at a twenty-four hour restaurant near the apartment. The girls came back to The Rise with us, and it was about 8am when they returned home!

Sunday, as you'd probably expect, got off to a very late start. There had been talk about visiting a floating market, or some other similarly touristy attraction, but by the time we'd finally gotten our acts together, there was little time to do much of that. Although Amy and I wouldn't be flying until the following morning, Sonia would have to head to the airport around 6pm. And it was already nearly 3pm!

So we headed over to Thong Lor, where we wandered a bit before settling on a sidewalk lunch venue. We then indulged in foot massages before one last communal sticky rice, from a place purported to be the best in Bangkok! 

After Sonia left, Amy and I popped over to the Robin Hood Pub for a drink before venturing back to Thong Lor for dinner at Soul Food, a restaurant that I had just loved on my last visit to the city. A branch has since opened on Elgin Street in Hong Kong, and I've gone several times. It never disappoints. And over some creative mixed drinks, we indulged in sensational Thai dishes, all prepared and served with flair and elan. (Including an ant egg curry!)

We capped off the evening with a series of cocktails at the Iron Fairies, again a Bangkok establishment I had visited on my last trip, and which has also recently seen a copy open in the city I call home. It was great to just continue catching up with Amy over some killer drinks, as there was so much to talk about that had happened in both our lives over the past two years. When the lights came on and we realized we would have to go home, we barely had an hour's sleep before it was time to head to the airport.

The Iron Fairies in Thong Lor

In a geeky way, I was actually a little excited, because on all my previous trips in and out of Bangkok, I'd always flown to and from Suvarnabhumi (BKK). However, this leg would be departing from the city's other international airport, Don Meuang (DMK). Although I can't say there was much going on between 4:30am and 6:30am while I waited to board the flight, I did my best to wander around and get a feel for the place. 

My eyes were shut immediately after we became airborne, and I slept the whole way back to Hong Kong. It may have been a short one—and it may have gotten off on the wrong foot—but in the end, it was a fantastic unexpected holiday!