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!

March Marches On

March is nearly over, and April will be here with the coming weekend. That means the Hong Kong International Film Festival will soon be taking place (11 - 25 April), in addition to the boozefest that is the Rugby Sevens (7 - 9 April). As ever, the time is just flying, but this has truly been a fantastic month, and I'm so grateful for the string of unforgettable and amazing experiences that it has given me.

As is usual here, life in Hong Kong has been exciting and energizing, and that's never so true as when friends come to visit. In addition to all the other events taking place, this month has seen repeat visits from my pals Courtney, Joe and Chris, whose visits will linger long in my memory as all-time standouts.

March 2017 started with Ash Wednesday, which fell on the first of the month this year. As usual, I've given up soda, coffee and swearing (HKD 10 for every slip, deposited in the offering on Easter Sunday). I attended the beautiful Ash Wednesday evening service at Saint John's Cathedral for the first time in several years, as the past few Ash Wednesdays have fallen over Chinese New Year while I've been out of town. It was nice to be back for it.

As part of the Hong Kong Arts Festival, the British actress Jane Birkin performed at the Hong Kong Cultural Centre in a piece entitled Gainsbourg Symphonic, a tribute to her late partner Serge Gainsbourg, which saw her performing some of his most iconic songs backed up by the Hong Kong Philharmonic!

Courtney returned to Hong Kong towards the end of February into early March. Even before she joined the Laos trip, she had known she was coming back to her old stomping grounds to revisit her favorite restaurants, sights and bars. She stayed for two weeks, and we also took the chance—post Oscars—to see as many of the winners and contenders as we could squeeze into her two weeks here. In fact, right after Ash Wednesday service, I bolted to Times Square to meet her to see Lion, and the following day I caught Manchester By the Sea and Arrival.

Courtney flew down to the Philippines on 4 March, so I had four or five days to get ready for the arrival of my next guest, Joe! You may remember that Joe's work took him to Japan early last year, and he squeezed in a side trip to Hong Kong while in Asia. Lucky for me, Tokyo called him back again earlier this month, and at the end of his trip, he stopped in the Pearl of the Orient again. 

He arrived around 1pm on 9 March, and as I had a work lunch nearby, I was able to meet his Airport Express train as it pulled into the station in Central. I passed off the key to the apartment, and deposited him in a taxi to Happy Valley, as the afternoon dragged at the office until I could bolt out the door at 5pm.

We had a full night ahead of us, starting with celebratory rooftop champagne at the flat before catching the Star Ferry across the harbor for dinner after. We met up with Matt and Ana at the elevators of Chungking Mansion, where we were feasting on Indian curries, rices and naans at the always-delicious Kybher Pass, a non-descript restaurant on the seventh floor. 

Post-dinner, we migrated to Ashley Road for drinks at Ned Kelly's Last Stand, a dark, crowded jazz bar which is unique among Hong Kong watering holes. Matt and Ana didn't stick around, but Joe and I ordered a jug of beer and listened to a few sets before popping up to Knutsford Terrace for more live music at All Night Long. Of course, no night on the town is complete without stopping in Lan Kwai Fong, so we had a few final drinks in Al's Diner and le Jardin before calling it a night. 

I met Joe downstairs in my office building for lunch Friday afternoon, and we went for Sichuan food at a tiny place up the road. Again, the second the clock stuck five, I was waiting for the elevator so that Joe and I would make the 5:20pm ferry to Lamma Island. What better venue for dinner on a Friday during Lent than the seafood restaurants lining Lamma's colorful main village, Yung Shue Wan? We stuffed ourselves with steamed scallops, salt-and-pepper squid, clams in black bean sauce and more! 

My friend Emily joined us about two-thirds of the way through the meal, and then my Lamma friends Ailee and Ben popped down for some beer, as we chatted the time away counting down to our ferry. You see, we had to be back in time for a 9:30pm tram party, hosted by my friend Christina in honor of her birthday.

Sadly, Christina severely injured herself while jumping on a trampoline a couple months ago. The tram party had initially been scheduled closer to her actual birthday, but while she recovered from her injuries, she had to change the date. This worked out very well for me, because the newly-selected timing coincided perfectly with Joe's visit, and Christina was more than happy to have him along for the ride! 

After the tram party ended, it was back to LKF and then up to Wyndham Street as we soaked up the Friday night mayhem of Central's party scene. 

For lunch on Saturday, I was bent of taking Joe to Shatin Inn in Tai Wai. And since we opted to bring Fredric with us, we had no choice but to take a cab. Again, we ordered far too much food, but it was just all so good. And sitting in the garden always makes for a pleasant dining experience.

Later that afternoon, my friend Allan had organized his birthday party at a new bar in SoHo called 99 Bottles. With an insane free flow package that included tequila, Jaeger bombs and bottomless prosecco, Joe and I had a great afternoon the slowly turned into evening and finally late night. And all capped off with some spicy Thai food on Elgin Street.

Sunday was a day I had been waiting ages for! Ever since 2014 when I celebrated the fifth anniversary of my arrival in Hong Kong at Sha Tin Racecourse's Hay Market, I've been longing to return... and Joe's visit proved the perfect excuse to organize a decadent Sunday brunch overlooking the track. 

And as if Joe's presence wasn't enough, earlier that day, my friend Chris—who lived in Hong Kong back in 2009 when I first arrived and subsequently moved back to Germany—returned for a week with his girlfriend Uli! They also joined for the brunch, along with Matt and Ana, and our friends Sophie and Yvonne.

Brace yourselves for a small shock: Sunday also marked Courtney's return to Hong Kong, potentially for good. You see, after her two week visit earlier in the month, she rekindled her old love for this place. She's decided to give it a go again, and has since returned to look for a full time position as a nanny or personal assistant. Although our booking at Hay Market was only for eight people, she decided to crash the party anyway, and nobody seemed to mind having an extra guest at our table.

It was a long and amazing day, with ten races, more bottomless prosecco and—I don't mind saying—more than a few big wins for yours truly! Of course, Joe and I celebrated in Wan Chai into the wee small hours of the morning afterwards. 

By the time he left to catch his flight on Monday morning, we were both exhausted, but I don't think either of us will ever forget his second visit to this crazy metropolis. I can't wait for trip number three!

Of course, Joe might have left, but Chris and Uli were still here, meaning I still had plenty of excuses to celebrate, whether it be Wednesday night at Happy Valley and Wan Chai or a massive Chinese feast at American Restaurant.

In fact, Friday of that week happened to be Saint Patrick's Day, one of my favorite days of the year. The old Laos crew—Courtney, Creeks and I—reunited at Jimmy's Kitchen for lunch, as it's the only place I know in town serving corned beef and cabbage. (I swapped my no-meat Friday with Wednesday that week so I could indulge in the traditional Paddy's Day meal.)

For six years running now, I've hosted a communal Saint Patrick's shindig on my rooftop, and this year might have been the biggest installment yet. A great group of my friends assembled, and even Fredric donned a dapper green bow tie to get in the spirit. In spite of the lightly falling rain, we all had a blast drinking green beer and wearing those old leprechaun hats that have seen more than a few crazy parties. 

To make the event even more special, the stroke of midnight marked Chris' foray into thirty-hood, as he celebrated his own birthday on the roof!

The celebration continued on Saturday night with a delicious French dinner at Plat du Jour in Pacific Place and even more revelry in Lan Kwai Fong and Wan Chai before he and Uli flew out again on Sunday.

You probably won't be surprised, but I didn't leave the apartment that day, resorting to ordering Pizza Hut and watching movies on the couch. After Joe and Chris' visits, I was in need of well-deserved relaxation, but, oh, what fantastic memories March 2017 has given me! I can only hope April will be as much fun—and with the major events that have come to define it, I have no doubt it will meet my expectations!

Jakarta 2.0

I spent the past weekend down in Jakarta again, and, like last time, the backbone of this trip was business. However, because the meeting I was flying in for was scheduled for a Friday afternoon, it seemed like a no brainer to stick around for an extra night on my own dime, to see a few more of the sights of this Southeast Asian megalopolis. Thus, after only three nights back home after my Chinese New Year vacation, I was on another plane heading out of Hong Kong.

That flight was a very memorable one indeed, with a great view from my window seat. Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto provided the music, and it was like I created my own homemade version of Fantastia, as the sun set and the clouds and sky began turning colors. (A few Gin and Tonics only added to my enjoyment.)

During my search for accommodation leading up to this trip, I learned of a new hotel that had opened since my September visit. Although I simply adored the Hermitage last time, and sincerely hope to stay there again in the future, I was won over by the Gunawarman's super-close location to the office I would be visiting. Since it was priced exactly at my firm's nightly budget, I opted to stay there for Thursday and Friday, before moving to a different (read: cheaper) alternative for my self-funded final night.

Checking in to the stunning hotel, I was amazed by the pulsating music coming from Sofia, the bar-cum-club just off the main lobby. Tempted as I was to indulge in a few more gin-based libations, common sense prevailed. I settled in my room, flipped through the channels and got a good night's rest so I would be fully energized for the next day's meeting.

The next morning, after a complimentary breakfast of eggs Benedict at Sofia, I squeezed in a black coffee at Doppio, a local café down the street from the hotel. And before long, I was all suited up and ready for work.

A long day successfully completed—but a disastrous attempt to walk back to the hotel afterwards—I rewarded—or consoled—myself with a couple rounds of cocktails at swanky Sofia: a Sidecar and a Clover Club. It quickly jumped to my shortlist of favorite Southeast Asian watering holes. Next time I'm in Jakarta, whether staying at the Gunawarman or elsewhere, I'll surely pop in for a drink or three.

Perhaps even more suited to my tastes, however, was Csaba, the members-and-guests-only basement club, where I only went for a quick looksee. The inviting leather armchairs, dark wood paneling and old time jazz was too much to deny.

I ordered a Gibson, ran up to my room to grab the book I'm reading, and nestled in. I was the only person around, with a staff of four or five waiters on hand just for me, as if they were awaiting the arrival of Cary Grant or Carole Lombard. And as song after favorite song came on, I was in heaven.

The next morning, it was already time to say goodbye to the Gunawarman. I had booked a room at the Novotel for the last night, and I planned to visit the National Museum before meeting up with one of my contacts in Jakarta, dr. Stephany, who works for an insurance company and had presented to one of my groups the day before. 

My taxi driver couldn't get too close to the museum because the road was closed to traffic thanks to massive protests taking place in Merdeka Square. So I had to walk the rest of the way. One hand was firmly attached to my suitcase, which I had with me because I had checked out of the Gunawarman and would be headed straight to the Novotel later that day. The other was holding up my jeans, because I'd forgotten my belt in Hong Kong. It was far from a nice day, with dark clouds and occasional drizzles. And all the gates to the museum were locked.

Me and a local lady were calling to the guards seated at the entrance to find out how to get in, but they seemed to be deliberately ignoring our cries. I turned up the side street to see if I could find another way in, but some police officers waved me away, telling me I could not proceed any further. At this point, I was about to give up. Perhaps it was best to just drop my bag at my next hotel and relax until meeting dr. Stephany and her husband at 1pm. But then, out of nowhere, another guard screamed out to me and pointed to a previously-bolted gate, which could have only been unlocked when I ventured up the side street after I had tried to open it. He ushered me in, sold me a ticket and acted as if this wasn't the most confusing thing in the world.

Although the bulk of the National Museum is undergoing renovation, there are four floors of very interesting exhibits which will remain open to the public during the process. There's a collection of old furniture, clothing, boats, bicycles, hats, jewelry, pottery and models that kept me intrigued for a solid hour or so. Of course, I was disappointed that I only got to see a portion of what's purported to be one of Southeast Asia's most impressive collections of artifacts, but I look forward to visiting again when the whole thing is re-opened. (Apparently, thought, this won't be until the summer of 2018!)

Jakarta, as I'd learned the night before, is decidedly not a walking city. Everybody takes taxis everywhere. Still, I was determined to make it from museum to restaurant on foot, as Google claimed it should only take twenty or so minutes. Even when sidewalks exist in Jakarta, motorcyclists use them as roads. Traffic is horrendous and disorganized, and often you just have to cross the street and hope for the best. But the maps I had studied were accurate, and I made it to the restaurant in one piece, with my suitcase intact and my jeans up. I can't exactly claim it was a pleasant walk, but I still got to see a lot of Jakarta life on street level. And there's something especially satisfying about experiences like that.

Unfortunately, at this point, I learned that, like the museum, the restaurant dr. Stephany had selected was closed for renovations. A friendly non-English speaking delivery boy let me use his phone to call dr. Stephany, and a staff member took his phone to explain the situation to her. Still, I was in the right place, and my hosts said they would soon arrive and we could head somewhere else for lunch.

They elected to drive me to Tangerang, another city about sixteen miles outside of Jakarta. They treated me to an amazing local lunch at a restaurant called Ikan Bakar Cianjur, apparently a seafood chain in Indonesia. Seated besides a waterfall, we feasted on grilled fish, veal, vegetables and soup, and an interesting concoction of coconut and orange juice to wash it down.

We then drove to the historic old quarter of Tangerang, exploring a bustling Chinese temple and teeming, muddy streets. There was so much action going on, especially around the temple, since this was the last of the fifteen days that make up the Chinese New Year holiday.

A local museum in an immaculately restored Chinese shop house capped off our visit to Tangerang.  The quote printed above the door will stay with me a long time: "We will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand and we understand only what we are taught." An energetic guide, clearly very proud to share his stories with us, shepherded us around the ancient building, a place I almost certainly never would have even heard about had it not been for dr. Stephany and her husband, who very graciously sacrificed their entire Saturday to show me the sights.

As a thank you for an incredible day, I treated my hosts to a tasty dinner at Jonisteak, a favorite restaurant of theirs that just so happens to be a few feet down the street from the Novotel, where they dropped me off after our long, exhausting but truly unforgettable afternoon! My room rate included a "welcome drink," a ginger ale, which I enjoyed at the empty bar, again reading a few pages of my book before turning in.

While reading up a bit more on Jakarta's attractions going into this trip, I learned about Sunda Kelapa, the old port that was once the city's main shipping hub. These days, it caters to traditional wooden sailing ships called pinisi, which ply the islands of the Indonesian archipelago. It's got to be one of the single most atmospheric ports on earth.

While the far larger and more technologically advanced port of Tanjung Priok took over the main responsibilities associated with international trade and shipping, Sunda Kelapa thankfully remains, in a nod to tradition and history.

  

The colorful pinisi are lined up as far as the eye can see, their masts towering above the road, the hulls sunk low in the dirty water. Workmen are busy loading and unloading cargo—mostly sandbags, it seemed to me—while a handful of tourists wander about snapping photographs.

A friendly "guide" offered to take me around the harbor, also showing off the nearby fish market and Chinatown. But unfortunately, owing to my flight in just a few hours' time, I had to turn it down. In addition to the rest of the National Museum, I guess this grand tour will have wait until an uncertain future date.

I did have time to squeeze in a visit to the fascinating Museum Bahari, or Maritime Museum, just around the corner, which details the history of Jakarta's relationship with trade and the sea. Well organized and housed in a charming collection of old waterfront warehouses, the museum presents an intriguing collection of model ships, paintings, relics and informative panels detailing the long maritime history of this ever-fascinating city. I loved wandering around its darkened rooms in relative solitude.

Just a few meters away is the brightly-painted Menara Syahbandar, an old watchtower where customs officers of old would survey the action of the port. This noble edifice was once the zero-marker from which distances to and from Jakarta were officially measured. Now, the National Monument in Merdeka Square has taken over that function, but the tower still bears silent witness to centuries of maritime commerce.

One of the first things I noticed about the tower was it's gentle sloping, which I supposed had something to do with the areas Dutch heritage. However, an explanatory sign beside the structure provides this reassuring clarification: "Standing on top of swamp area, the old tower slowly leaned southward, therefore it is known as 'Menara Miring' (Leaning Tower). Currently located on the busy road packed with vehicles and container trucks, has added to its vibration load, on the south side of the tower. That is why it is also called as 'Menara Goyang' (Shaking Tower) because it feels shaky when cars pass by."

Up I went to surmise the view from the top, feeling the promised vibrations as I scaled the red steps inside. Again, I had the place all to myself.

The last sight I was bent on finding that morning was Jembatan Kota Intan, Jakarta's last remaining Dutch drawbridge, itself magnificently restored yet presiding over a trash-filled mess of streets and waterways. I have a feeling that in the not-so-distant future, this whole area will become a pedestrian-friendly tourist zone, all cleaned up and polished. And I know that when that time comes, I'll feel very grateful indeed that I got to experience it as the real, down-and-dirty neighborhood I saw that day.

Heading back towards the Novotel, I passed through the historic town's main square, which I thoroughly explored on my previous trip. Although I only walked through this time—and rather briskly, at that—I really love this part of Jakarta. The Dutch relics that populate the quaint district make for memorable strolling and, with just a dash of imagination, you can really envision a lively colonial hub of yesteryear.

At noon, I checked out of the Novotel and hopped in a taxi to the airport, spending some of my leftover funds on edible souvenirs to share with my colleagues back in the office on Monday. Soekarno-Hatta International Airport is actually a pleasant little place to kill some time before a flight. It feels quite homey for a major hub, and I had one last Indonesian coffee at a little café just beside my gate.

Disappointingly, my "window" seat in the emergency row didn't actually have a window for me to look out of, just a wall. I consoled myself with the extra leg room and thoughts of what movie I was going to watch. You can imagine how gutted I felt when I realized that my personal entertainment set was not working either! Although the Cathay staff were clearly trying their best to fix the problem, it was not to be. Luckily, the friendly Indonesian lady seated beside me offered to switch places with me, and I watched a fantastic Hong Kong film, Echoes of the Rainbow, which I've wanted to see for years. It didn't disappoint, turning out to be a great little end to the weekend. And, as you can probably guess, I hope another trip to Indonesia's vibrant capital is in the cards for me.