Mourning Becomes Bangkok

I landed in the USA early Saturday morning, and I'm really looking forward to spending the next two weeks here, enjoying all the flavors of the fall in addition to my first Halloween at home since 2009! However, I also was lucky enough to work the past week from my firm's Bangkok office, and it was yet another great experience.

I literally love all of my colleagues there, a winning mixture of local Thais and international expatriates. So it's a real pleasure to spend time with them, both inside and outside the office. The locals always go out of their way to share a bit of their culture with me while I'm around. And the expats similarly love steering me towards Bangkok's newest, hippest restaurants and bars. This trip was no different, with loads of lunches, dinners and drinking sessions filled with good friends, tasty food and plentiful beer. 

But the week also included a massive dose of melancholy. For as you may know, the country's beloved ruler, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, passed away at the age of 88 on 13 October 2016. The anniversary a few weeks ago was declared a new public holiday. And after over a year of national mourning, the king's remains were cremated during a massive multi-day ceremony in the Thai capital last Thursday, as throngs of citizens and visitors bid a fond farewell to one of the country's most popular monarchs.

Keen readers of this blog might remember that when I visited Bangkok over Easter 2012, a cousin of the king, Princess Bejaratana, was cremated in one of the single most impressive events I've ever been privileged to witness firsthand. I'll never, ever forgot that morning, watching as her golden teak chariot was pulled through the streets of the city by elaborately costumed footmen while immaculately attired soldiers marched onto the massive public square—Sanam Luang—in front of the Grand Palace. 

In fact, the cremation of Princess Bejaratana was actually a very significant event in my own life. Totally blown away by the grand pomp and circumstance on display that day—and totally disappointed in my photos from my point-and-shoot Canon—I made up my mind about two things: first, I would be investing in a proper DSLR upon my return to Hong Kong, and, second, I'd be back in Bangkok again for the next major ceremony of a similar nature.

True to this 2012 vow, I arrived in Bangkok a few days in advance, and with my now-five year old Olympus Pen in tow.

The city was dressed for mourning for the entirety of my trip. King Bhumibol ascended the throne in 1946 and ruled for seventy years, until he passed away last October, so it's easy to understand how his country came to adore him so completely. I've never seen so much black. Imagine whole train cars full of sad citizens, all clad in dark clothes. Walking down the street, if you saw any sudden bursts of color, you could be sure that upon further inspection, the wearer was clearly an uninformed tourist.

Photos of the king, mostly monotone or in muted color, adorned literally every single building, both big and small. And it seemed as if all the city's billboards paid tribute. Some were adorned with old time portraits of the dashing, newly-coronated monarch in the late 1940s while many others showed him as he was only a few years ago, a wise, graying ruler complete with all his regal paraphernalia.

Millions of marigolds, a flower particularly associated with the king, were on display everywhere. Black ribbons were strung on many façades. And on the city's BTS line, plaintive jazz melodies written by the late king—an avid saxophonist and composer—emanated from unseen speakers on loop, reinforcing the feeling of sadness.

I asked most of my colleagues if they planned to attend the ceremony. "No way! It's going to be so crowded," was the usual response. "You're crazy if you go! Some people have already been camped out for days to get a good spot," was another variation. But my mind was made up, and there was no way I wasn't giving it my best shot. With memories of the Princess Bejaratana ceremony perma-etched into my memory, I had a perfect blueprint for attending my second royal Thai cremation.

It did not go according to plan.

Around 3pm on Thursday, after having watched some of the most impressive parts of the funereal procession on television, I hopped on the BTS to the nearby ferry pier, where free boats were taking mourners to the site of the cremation itself. I was stunned at the length of the queue, which had no end in sight. I estimated that it would have taken me about three hours just to get on a boat, so I headed back to my hotel, where they ordered me a cab instead.

When I hopped off near Siriraj Hospital, throngs of Thais, in black from head to toe, crammed the streets. My driver couldn't get anywhere near Sanam Luang; in fact, I was on the other bank of the Chao Praya River, but I tried my best to get my bearings so I could make my way in the proper direction.

Volunteers were passing out bottles of water and other cold, sweet, fruit drinks. It rained quite a bit, and I sought shelter under awnings and other makeshift coverings with other members of the crowd. Although it was an undeniably sad occasion, most people seemed upbeat and courteous, smiling whenever we made eye contact.

Finally, I located the river and was able to cross via a quick ferry shuttle. This deposited me very close to the city's famous flower market, where massive floral tributes to the king were put together. My colleague Harper had shown me photos of the displays a few days earlier, so I was glad that I had a chance to view them myself.

After a delicious bowl of noodle soup from a local vendor, I decided it was time to go to the main site. I found the line, and again couldn't believe how long it was! It would certainly take hours to get in. What should I do? I seriously toyed with the idea of going home right then and there, simply watching the rest of the day's events on the t.v. in my hotel. But something inside me told me to join the queue and wait. I had nothing else to do, and this was, in a way, very much a once-in-a-lifetime event. So I did just that.

The line did not move fast. More accurately, it crawled. For long stretches, I did not progress forward one single inch. As volunteers walked back and forth handing out hot meals and cool drinks, I could not believe this outpouring of grief. About midway through my wait, another volunteer handed me a delicate sandalwood flower, of which millions of a similar nature had been distributed to people around the country.

I got on the line at 5:29pm. It was after 8:30pm when I finally cleared the security machines to gain entry to the compound that we had all been waiting to enter. After a few excited moments gazing around, my heart sank. Although the gates of the Grand Palace were only a few feet away, and thus the main crematorium, too, I realized in that moment that I was not, in fact, at Sanam Luang, but rather at one of the many replicas scattered around, where mourners could lay sandalwood flowers at an altar. It was nearly another hour before my turn came to lay my flower before a photo of the regal king.

Somehow, in that final hour, my mood went from incredibly dejected to extraordinarily moved. The respect of the literally thousands of Thais surrounding me—many weeping, all reverential—made for an unforgettable sight. I felt a little silly at having waited so long on the wrong line, even more so for never having bothered to ask anybody what we were waiting for, just assuming it was what I thought it was. However, it also dawned that nearly everybody else with whom I stood on that line knew exactly what they had been waiting for. They knew it was merely to lay a sandalwood flower, not to attend the cremation itself. And yet they gamely waited for hours on end, to pay a humble tribute to a king they loved so much.

After exiting the compound, I did make my way to the actual line to get inside the cremation complex. I was exhausted at this point, and the line was, as I assumed, enormous. Although I did consider jumping on the back and giving it a go, I ultimately hopped a tuk tuk to my hotel, where I put the coverage of the ceremony on the television for the remainder of the evening.

In the end, it was a very poignant experience, not at all what I had imagined after my first encounter with a royal Thai cremation, but a memorable happening all the same. Mixed in with a phenomenal work week out of the office, the funeral of King Bhumibol Adulyadej will linger in my memories as a deeply moving episode of a very eventful year.

I am very glad I made good on my promise to be in Bangkok during this special time. The city was tinged with the pervasive air of an ever-present doleful delicacy, undeniably both sad and beautiful in equal measures, like few events I've ever witnessed. And although I look forward to future, more upbeat visits to one of Southeast Asia's most dynamic capitals, I know this particular week will always occupy its own special niche in the annals of my travels.

Mid-Autumn Magic

I know that at one point or another, I've probably said this about every season of the year... But fall really is one of the greatest times to be in Hong Kong! With its combination of (comparatively) cooler weather, bustling local celebrations and, with them, some days off work that allow for taking full advantage of both the climate and the culture, it just can't be beat.

We've been blessed with some of the most gorgeously clear days I can recall of late. Yes, after that abundance of rain that poured down from the heavens for much of the summer, things have really cleared up beautifully. I've enjoyed journeys up the Peak, ferry rides back and forth to Kowloon, visits to several outlying islands and plenty of al fresco meals to soak up all the glories.

Like most fun-filled times of the year in this city, 2017's version of the fall has been a duet of those recurring annual events that keep me looking forward to the season all year long mixed in with some one-off items that add a dash of the unique and unexpected. 

Case in point for the latter: the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra presented a screening of Steven Spielberg's classic E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial in the Hong Kong Cultural Centre, with live musical accompaniment of John William's unforgettable score! I get goosebumps just thinking about the moment those bikes take off into the air while the famous melody plays, so you can imagine what it was like to experience that with an orchestra playing along!

There was also a glorious Saturday that consisted mostly of wandering around the city with an out of town visitor, a friend of my friend Nina, who happened to be stopping in Hong Kong at the tail end of a three week trip around China. It's been a good, long while since I'd last taken a Sheung Wander, and I loved showing around a first timer, stopping to admire gritty street art, ducking into new shops and pointing out all my favorite landmarks.

One of the events I look forward to at this time of year occurs on the Sunday closest to the fifth of October, when Saint John's Cathedral opens its doors to all things bright and beautiful and all creatures great and small. Commemorating the feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, the church hosts a beautiful service where the community is encouraged to bring along our pets for a blessing, so you can bet Fredric and I were there. Afterwards, we went over to Mui Wo to pay a call at my favorite Turkish restaurant, Bahce, and it was an all around great day.

Of course, the Halloween decorations have gone up in my apartment, and the October movie screenings have started—Hocus Pocus, the iconic James Whale classics The Old Dark House, Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, all four Screams, and Cat People, among a slew of others—and there are plenty more to come over the next weeks! I even visited the library and checked out the complete collection of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories and poetry, which is providing me with suitably macabre reading material for the month.

The Mid-Autumn Festival kicked off last Wednesday evening, and I hopped the 6 bus to Repulse Bay after work and lingered for a few hours on the sand, lighting red wax candles as dozens of youngsters ran about illuminating lanterns and cracking glowsticks. It had rained earlier in the day, and the precipitation kept the usual crowds away, slightly detracting from the normally charged ambiance. But the full moon glowing overhead and the balmy breezes blowing to and fro provided easy compensation.

The next day, a public holiday, was spent on tiny, oft-forgotten Peng Chau, with my friends Matt, Hana and Julien—and all the new friends we made! After a hearty dim sum experience, we made our way to one of the island's lovely beaches, where the friendliest crew of Filipinos welcomed us to their feast, plying us with drinks and food—and a karaoke machine! 

And after work on Friday, Fredric and I ventured to Tai Hang to witness the raucous fire dragon parade, as a lengthy, incense-covered beast winds its way through the grid of streets hidden a few steps away from Tin Hau MTR Station. Matt and his wife Anna joined, in addition to an old friend, Chahir, who I hadn't seen since the Mid-Autumn Festival two years ago. He is a tennis referee, and just happened to find himself in town for the Hong Kong Open, which is taking place this week.

As fate would have it, we plopped down at the same sidewalk restaurant as we had two years prior, eating delicious local food with the cacophony of cheering, popping and clapping buzzing all around us. A mooncake-based ice cream from Lab Made capped off the fantastic evening.

Lanterns appear all over the SAR during this time of year, leading up to the festival and lingering for quite a long while after. It makes for a lovely sight, and the largest, most ostentatious collection of lanterns is the one set up in Causeway Bay's Victoria Park.

So on Saturday evening, with Courtney newly returned to Hong Kong after a vacation in Austria and looking for Instagram fodder, we made a beeline for the fair, with its beautifully illuminated displays filling the warm October night sky. Kids were playing while their parents looked on with glee, and it was a good reminder that the whole idea of the festival is about spending time with loved ones, about enjoying life, about being grateful.

Having missed the Mid-Autumn Festival last year while I was in the States for Lisa and Tak's wedding, I was beyond delighted to fully immerse myself in it this time around. So, yes, I may sound repetitive, but this really is a fantastic time of the year in my city, and I'm so glad this autumn has been a memorable installment I can add to the history books. 

Neighbor to the North

The month of September started for me in Mainland China, Hong Kong's enormous neighbor just to the north. I think I've reflected on this blog before that one of my more shocking realizations over the past nearly-eight years is how little time I've actually spent in "mother China," considering the wealth of cultural, culinary and historical interests that lurk within the borders of the world's most populous nation. Now I can say with certainty that this is all about to change. Firmly affixed to my passport is a ten year, unlimited entry visa,  meaning I have no more excuses for not exploring the amazing riches of Old Cathay.

The recent week I spent in China was, in essence, a business trip. I've been working closely with one of my corporate clients to set up a new medical insurance policy for their offices in Shanghai and Beijing. With the policy just about to begin, I needed to visit both locations to help get things off to a smooth start. With other clients also located in those cities, in addition to a wealth of insurance companies, it seemed only logical to make a full week out of it. In the end, it was not only a fun trip but also remarkably fruitful from a business perspective.

I arrived in Shanghai late in the afternoon on Sunday, 27 August. I should have arrived earlier, but after boarding the plane in Hong Kong around 10am that morning, Typhoon Pakhar made it impossible for us to take off. We sat on the ground for an additional three hours before we were finally airborne.

It's actually been quite the typhoon season this summer, with several days off work due to severe weather, including the strongest storm I've yet experienced in Hong Kong, Hato, which compelled the Observatory to lift the Typhoon 10 signal for the first time since 2012. (And I happened to be out of town that last time.)

My rooftop the morning after Typhoon Hato

And while the wrath of Pakhar was not quite up to that of Hato, it still caused its fair share of delays to flights arriving and departing our airport. I must say, however, that I hardly noticed. Cathay Dragon did a fantastic job numbing what could have been a very painful experience. While we were still connected to the gate, they started serving meals, turned on the entertainment systems and began bringing around drinks. I watched many episodes of Friends, sipped a few beers and, by the time we landed in Hongqiao Airport, I'd actually had quite a nice, relaxing Sunday.

I was staying in Pudong, the futuristic business district on the far bank of the Huangpu River that bisects the city. After a welcome mojito at the hotel's rooftop lounge, Red Passion, I headed out to stroll around the bustling area, eventually snacking on some out-of-this-world dumplings followed by a visit to Cold Stone Creamery.

The view from Red Passion, my hotel's rooftop bar

As mentioned, this was a work trip, so I didn't have quite so much free time during the week. I was shuffling back and forth between meetings with clients, lunches with insurers and visits back to my room to catch up on e-mails. But after my work was finished on Monday, I did manage a visit to another rooftop bar, this time atop the Ritz-Carlton, only a short stroll from my own hotel, the Kempinski.

View of the Bund from Flair, the bar atop the Ritz-Carlton

While the view from the bar, Flair, was typically extraordinary, I think I actually enjoyed walking around at street level even more, gazing up at the trio of mesmerizing skyscrapers that dominate this corner of the city—the Jin Mao Tower, the Shanghai World Financial Center and the Shanghai Tower.

Pudong's iconic trio of towers

Tuesday was another day of meetings followed by another night of tipples. I made it to the legendary Long Bar at the Waldorf-Astoria on the Bund, probably the most magical street in the city. All floodlit and majestically restored, pretty much every building lining the Bund has a storied history.

The Bund-facing façade of Shanghai's Waldorf

The Long Bar itself has many tales to tell of Old Shanghai. In a stroke of incredible luck, that evening there was a special event taking place. Frank Caiafa, former head of the original New York City Waldorf's signature bar, Peacock Alley, was in town mixing modern takes on classic cocktails. I was the only patron in the joint for a long while, and I had a great chat with Frank about a whole range of topics, from Manhattan memories to his impressions of his first trip to Asia, from bartending tales and cocktail conversations to learning about the publication of his new book updating classic recipes from the hotel's early days.

The storied Long Bar 

Post-gin, I wandered a long while up and down and all over the Bund. The night before, I had picked up a free brochure detailing the histories of most of the impressive structures, and I enjoyed inspecting them up close. One of my clients had recommended stopping for a rooftop drink at the Banyan Tree hotel, but try though I did, I couldn't seem to locate the place. Still, I soaked up all the atmosphere I possibly could while I attempted to find a suitable alternative.

The Bund by night

I finished my evening with a nightcap at VUE in the Park Hyatt, sipping one final G&T gazing out over the twinkling lights of the city. Magnificently positioned at a bend in the river, the venue gives visitors a view over both the post-modern towers of Pudong and the spotlit stone façades of the Bund, the whole history of Shanghai reflected in the still waters of the Huangpu.

The view from VUE

If it sounds like my time in Shanghai was spent either in business-related meetings or imbibing in expensive tipples at classy watering holes, than I guess I've done a pretty good job of summarizing the not-quite-three days I spent in town.

On Wednesday morning, I had to head to the train station, where I'd be catching the six hour bullet train to my next destination. Sure, I could have flown, but seeing as I'd ridden eleven planes in less than a month, a leisurely journey by train, even if somewhat longer, was definitely preferable to another airplane ride.

As surprising as it may sound, that afternoon, I laid eyes on Beijing for the first time. Somehow, even after all these years, I'd never made the trip up to China's historic capital. So after checking in to the NUO Hotel Wangfujing—formerly the Raffles—and squeezing in a quick cocktail in the Writer's Bar, I excitedly bolted out the hotel's revolving doors and made a bee-line for Tiananmen Square, just a five minute walk down the street.

Seeing the iconic sight that night was quite a memorable experience, and I took some time to explore picturesque Zhongshan Park before turning in.

My time in Beijing was similarly filled with important meetings, though I also managed to see at least a bit of the city's famous attractions. Mercifully, I had the luxury of being able to attach a free weekend to the tail end of my work trip, but I still didn't come close to experiencing everything.

The most impressive thing I did squeeze in was a visit to the unforgettable Forbidden City, where I rented an audio guide and loved wandering for around three hours. If closing time hadn't intruded, I likely would have spent closer to five! And you can bet that a future visit to Beijing will certainly include a repeat visit to this amazing palace.

I met up with my friend Clément and a few of his buddies for drinks one night as well, savoring Chinese craft beer, burgers and classy cocktails in a speakeasy-like lounge. I made sure to sample the famous Peking duck, too. It was enough to prove that Beijing is my kind of town, and I seriously hope that repeat visit is in the near future.

Before my flight home on Sunday evening, I took a complimentary bike from my hotel lobby and cycled to 798 Factory, a former industrial zone that is now taken over by art studios, galleries and other creative types. Although I didn't even come close to checking off all the items on my Beijing to do list, I'll never forget the introduction I received to this incredible place.

See you soon, China! I look forward to making the most of my new visa and exploring as much of you over the next decade as I possibly can! (I'm already looking at you, Beijing 2022!)

Three Continents, Two Weeks, One Adventure!

I am ready for the sleep of a lifetime after these past couple of weeks. Following my exploits in Egypt, as you know, I ventured to Tunisia to celebrate the wedding of my friends Sonia and Motez. It was four days chock full of traditional celebrations with an amazing cast of characters, mixed in with a little time to explore the country's celebrated capital, Tunis (and its environs). 

Tunis' medina as viewed from the rooftop of my hotel

Afterwards, with no time to spare, I hopped on an Emirates flight and, with a single connection in Dubai, found myself in Bali to celebrate summer wedding number two, the nuptials of Ines and Edouard. Partying on the stunning Karma Kendara Private Beach Club created one of the most glamorous weddings I could have ever envisioned, and it was so entirely different from the traditional Tunisian celebration from which I'd just come that I never felt any need to compare the two. They were each, in their own way, sheer perfection.

A movie star wedding!

Then, last but not least, after having traveled from Africa to Asia for not-quite-three-days, I was en route to Spain for an amazing week of team building and exploration of Andalusia, the sun-drenched southernmost region of the Iberian peninsula. Needless to say, it's been an incredible summer, and I have a feeling it has set a new bar in terms of exploration and exhilaration. I know with certainty that August 2017 already ranks among the single greatest months of my life, with time spent in six countries so far spread over three continents. (And with next week's grand finale in Shanghai and Beijing, I expect it might even work its way straight to the top of my all time list.)

Siesta in Soto Grande

It's almost amazing to think back to those first moments in Tunis and realize that they are only a few short weeks in the past. So much has happened since then that they feel eons ago! My first real impressions of the capital were gleaned from a long, meandering stroll through the jumbled mess of alleyways that make up the city's historic medina. My hotel, the stunning Palais Bayram, was lost in the midst of this unforgettable web of cobbled streets, archways, souqs and sidewalk tea shops.

Tiles in the Palais Bayram

One of the first (and most pleasant) discoveries was that I could easily communicate with the locals, since French is universally spoken. Tunisia was a French colony until 1956, but it retains a sort of Gallic charm to this very day. Having spent five chaotic days in Egypt understanding very little apart from the genuine smiles of the Cairenes, it was incredible to have real conversations with the people I was encountering.

Medina wandering

I only had that first night in Tunis itself. Taking Sonia's suggestion, I opted to spend the second night of my Tunisian sojourn in an idyllic seaside village called Sidi Bou Said. So that next morning, I had a quick breakfast in the Medina before checking out of the Palais and hopping a cab to a cliffside paradise.

Sidi Bou Said

Sidi Bou Said surely ranks among the most picturesque towns I've ever seen. Picture a dream in white and blue, overlooking the majestic Mediterranean Sea. It's a small place—only a few streets, really—but so unbelievably lovely that I never tired of wandering around, snapping photographs and enjoying the discreet changes wrought from the different lighting at various hours.

Constantly intriguing views

I stayed at the most perfect little inn, the charming Hotel Bou Fares, with an amazing central courtyard shaded from the midday Tunisian sun by an overhanging tree. A friendly turtle calls the place home, and when I left the door to my room ajar for a few moments to attend to something or other, I returned to find him inside my bathroom. "Oh, yes, that always happens when guests leave their doors open," the friendly young lady manning the front desk told me.

My newest friend

Again on Sonia's suggestion, for she's never steered me wrong, I ordered a fricassee from the local food stall, and spent some time wandering around the market. It felt like I had been magically beamed to paradise. I had always expected Tunisia would captivate me, thanks to all the stories I'd been told over the years by Sonia and her family. But in Sidi Bou Said that day, I finally began to understand the secret hypnotic perfection of it all.

I set aside some time that hot afternoon to pay my respects to the fallen soldiers resting in the North Africa American Cemetery and Memorial, over in neighboring Carthage. Like the other American cemeteries I've visited in France and the Philippines, it's a somber, emotional place, poignant in its simplicity and humbling in scope.

The cemetery marks the final resting place of nearly three thousand men and women who gave their lives in the defense of North Africa during the Second World War. And in addition to paying tribute to their sacrifices, the space also doubles as an informative museum of the African campaign, with mosaic maps illustrating the history of some of the key battles.

I was alone in the cemetery—entirely—for the first hour or so I spent there. Not another single visitor was in sight. And I was very moved by the experience of wandering the rows in complete, utter solitude.

When I spied another visitor entering the gates, I knew it had to be Zied, a friend of Sonia's who planned to meet me and show me around for the rest of the afternoon. I had told him via Whatsapp that I would head to the cemetery and remain there until he was free to come by. And after some further time spent walking about together—Zied was born and bred in Tunis but he had never been to the cemetery before and was interested to understand more about its history—we headed off towards his car.

Zied then took me on a lovely impromptu motor tour around the neighboring villages, including a stop at the former Saint Louis Cathedral, drives along the waterfront promenade in La Marsa, La Goulette, and a pit stop for a refreshing fresh mint lemonade overlooking Les Berges du Lac. He then treated me to the most filling and amazing local dinner imagineable—called Lablabi—before dropping me back at Sidi Bou Said, where I walked it off by strolling the moonlit cobbled roads, thanking my lucky stars for my good fortune.

After a similarly endearing sunrise stroll the following morning, my friends arrived. Silja Boy, Nina, her boyfriend Kai, and Zied met me near the hotel, and we had a quick morning drink overlooking the sea before heading to the airport to meet two others, Alex and Philipp, before taking a private car for a three hour ride to the ferry to Kerkennah.

I don't know if you've ever been to a traditional Tunisian wedding before, but let me just say that it was the experience of a lifetime. Imagine Martin and Mongia's gorgeous seaside villa overlooking the Mediterranean, with a neighboring garden with innumerable fig trees. You can just pick them right then and there, and savor the most amazingly flavorful fruit you can imagine.

Life in Kerkennah seems to start in the late afternoon. Not that you sleep inordinately late, but it's a languid life from the time you wake up in the morning until the sun is thinking about getting ready to set. You awake to the sound of the waves, have some figs from the garden next door, sit around on a shaded terrace, eat some simple bread dipped in unbelievably delicious fresh olive oil, and just relax. A few later risers mosey on out and join the conversation, maybe some others disappear back into the house to take care of some chores. But nothing of importance happens, just the little moments that in hindsight seem to matter so immensely. 

Thus, it’s usually late afternoon before anything important is ready to happen, and that’s when most of the wedding-related events took place. One of the most memorable was a boat excursion, where about a hundred of us all gathered on a fleet of local fishing vessels, with flags flying in the wind and plentiful Celtia, a Tunisian beer served in tiny cans to help ensure it doesn’t have a chance to get warm, remaining ice cold as you drink it.

There was also a very memorable haircut ceremony. You see, back in the good old days, Tunisian weddings were arranged by the families of the bride and groom. When his parents had found what they considered a suitable bride, he would be formally introduced to her and have to make up his mind pretty quickly if he wished to proceed with the wedding. If he did, he would signal his acceptance of his bride by undergoing a haircut, to guarantee he looked his best for the nuptials.

It was perhaps no big surprise since the couple have been living together for years, but after Sonia was officially presented to Motez in a beautiful gold dress the night before, he decided to move forward with the wedding. So, we got to watch him have his locks trimmed and stubble shaved before the final ceremony.

After a traditional and cacophonous Tunisian ceremony at Martin and Mongia’s house, which included a camel and a band that kept the old-style tunes coming until sunrise, Sonia was also adamant about having a more Western celebration, so the next evening’s party was held on the beach at the Grand Hotel. Thus, over the course of three evenings, we had sufficient merrymaking of multiple varieties!

Tunisian wedding!

By this point in my life, I’ve had the privilege and honor of attending a great many friends’ weddings. But there was something so entirely different about this one that I have to rank it among the most memorable—and exotic—events I’ve ever witnessed. And to know how meaningful it was for the happy couple and their families only augmented its impact!

These guys all welcomed me like a long lost son!

Under different circumstances, I would have lingered even longer in the region. There was so much more I wanted to see in Tunisia, and several neighboring countries I just would have loved to explore, but owing to a quirk of timing, I was in a real rush to move on to my next destination: Bali!

You see, my friends Ines and Edouard were tying the knot only three days later, on a whole other continent! In fact, for a brief period, I actually thought I’d have to skip out on one of these weddings, but when I realized I could journey from Tunis to Denpasar with a single connection in Dubai, I quickly booked the itinerary with Emirates.

In the end, I landed on the Island of the Gods for the first time on that Friday afternoon as the welcome activities were just getting started. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced worse traffic than I encountered on Bali. A simple five-mile journey from the airport to the villa I’d be staying took close to an hour! But, once you’ve arrived in your little slice of paradise, it’s heaven from here on out.

Our Bali villa

Dinner that night was hosted on Jimbaran beach, with our toes in the sand, and, sometimes, in the water! And as I mingled with new friends and old ones, I was just so darn happy I was able to squeeze in this second wedding.

Sadly for me, Edouard and Ines relocated from Hong Kong to New York City awhile back, and I’ve really missed having them in my daily life. We were frequent lunching buddies and could often be found reveling into the wee small hours of the morning in SoHo or Lan Kwai Fong. So you can bet we made up for lost time over the coming days.

A wonderful wedding...

The wedding ceremony itself took place on Saturday afternoon, just across the street from our villa at the posh Four Seasons. It was a very moving service, all in French, with reenactments of Le Petit Prince and so much love on display.

White sand perfection

After another tortuously long and traffic-clogged journey from the Four Seasons to the party venue, Karma Kendara, it was time to properly celebrate. Cocktail hour took place alongside the stunning infinity pool with the setting sun behind it all. At one point, the groomsmen pushed Edouard into the water, suit and all, but, of course, he had a dapper change of clothes at the ready for just such a calamity!

Cocktail Hour

A steep funicular railway connects the pool to the beach far below, and there’s also a paved pathway through the jungle-like hills. On the white sand beach, we were treated to a movie-star wedding dinner, so impossibly romantic with flickering candles and even a private fireworks display.

Feu d'artifice prive

Jet-lag had caught up with me by this point, but I cured my fatigue with a quick nap on the floor before I continued the party until the early hours. Oh, what a wedding!

The newlyweds hosted a Sunday brunch at the same venue the next day, one that was perhaps the highlight of the whole affair. Every sixty seconds, the sound of a champagne cork popping peppered the scene. People were swimming and playing volleyball, music was playing and the sun was shining down. I’ve never felt so much like a celebrity in my life, and this might be the closest I ever come.

Cheers!

On Monday, I enjoyed a quick breakfast with the gang overlooking the beach, but soon I had to make my way back to the airport to head to Europe, the third continent of the trip! By this point, it seemed that Bali had perpetually horrendous traffic, so I left with ample time. Of course, we just flew along the roads, meaning I got there with hours remaining until my flight.

One last Bali breakfast before heading to Spain!

After connecting in Jakarta, I checked in to my Turkish Airlines flight, which would shuttle me to Malaga via Istanbul, and I reconnected with my Bangkok-based colleague Chris in the massive hub, where we had a few drinks before the last leg of our journey.

I had only been to Spain once before, back in 2007 during my semester abroad in Paris. My friends from Villanova spent their own spring break in the country, and I obviously jetted down to meet up with them in Madrid.

Flashback to Spring Break 2007 in Madrid with my pals Rusty and Shea

Now, a full ten years later, I was excited to return, to visit Malaga and some of the other Andalusian towns along the Costa del Sol, a beach-filled region of the country that is a favorite destination for many friends of mine, who had given me plenty of advice to make the most of my brief visit.

The main reason for this trip was for work, a team building exercise with colleagues who are based in Hong Kong, Thailand, the United Kingdom and Spain. There were two days of activities at our boss’s beautiful villa in Soto Grande, plus an opportunity to visit our Malaga office. Boy, do I hope a return trip is in the cards for me!

With my colleagues Chris and Pauline in Malaga

I just loved that old town, with its lovely cathedral and ancient forts. We stopped at El Pimpi, a café with an outdoor terrace and view of the towering Alcazaba, dating to the eleventh century. And when I make it back, you can bet I’ll be returning to that same spot for another round of sangria.

The Alcazaba, an ancient fort in Malaga

Over the course of those few days, we were treated to a litany of sumptuous dinners, too. Our inaugural feast was at La Quinta, an Argentinian-style steakhouse set on an old polo ground. And we had our next night’s meal at a beach shack called Gigi’s, which has to be disassembled every winter and then re-created for the summer season. There was even a barbecue dinner at the villa itself, and I loved getting to spend such great time with my wonderful colleagues.

Dinner at Gigi's!

On our last night, we drove to Gibraltar, the British Overseas Territory with its famous rock and tax-sheltered businesses. Smaller than three square miles, diminutive Gibraltar was a fascinating and photogenic little spot that I feel very fortunate to have gotten a chance to explore.

Gibraltar

We hired a private car to chauffeur us around the place, hitting up historic sights and some stunning viewpoints, including one which looked straight across to Morocco! And we capped off our Gibraltar escapades with al fresco drinks aboard the Sunborn, a super-yacht permanently moored there, and a flavorful dinner at a restaurant called Grille 53 in the hopping downtown.

Cocktails on the Sunborn

Chris flew off early on Saturday morning, but my colleague Pauline and I had late afternoon departures back to Hong Kong, through Zurich on Swiss Air for her and through Istanbul again on Turkish for me.

Of course, with the blessing of these extra hours, we made the most of our day, savoring more of the glories of this languid corner of the world. Our British-born, Spain-based colleague Lee and his partner Anne very graciously offered to guide us around, taking us to some of their favorite spots in the region.

Andalusia

We started off with a typical Andalusian breakfast, which came complete with a generous pour of Spanish brandy high in the mountains, overlooking the grandeur of mother nature. I may or may not have polished off Pauline's snifter after she decided it was too much for her to finish that early in the day. When in Spain! 

Breakfast with a view

Our hosts also took us to a truly stunning whitewashed town called Comares, which has barred vehicular traffic from entering the heart of its old quarter. You park at the entrance gate and then proceed by foot to explore up close. Its steep, winding, cobblestoned lanes instantly won me over, and I wish we had the ability to linger.

Whitewashed Comares

Yes, Comares was as serene a spot as I could have envisioned, a dream all in white, with blue skies and rolling foothills extending in every direction. It can trace its roots back to the early 600s, with the arrival of the Greeks and Phoenicians to the region, and it became a Moorish fortress the following century. Now, with a small population of just over a thousand residents, it is known for producing olives and almonds, in addition to the ubiquitous grapes along the so-called Raisin Route, which winds across sixty kilometers and yields a popular Moscatel wine.

A sleepy, beautiful little town

As one last pit stop before finally heading to the airport, we popped into an atmospheric little resto-bar for a local chilled soup called ajoblanco, made from almonds, garlic and olive oil, and served with grapes. It might sound odd, but it was heaven!

Delicious ajoblanco

I was exhausted from the past three weeks as this extravaganza wound to a close, but Turkish Airlines is about as good a carrier as I’ve ever flown, and my trip back was smooth and pleasant. Looking through all the photos of the trip now that I’m home, it is hard to believe I’d managed to successfully cram so much into so brief a window.

Typical Bali road

From the mazelike medina in Tunis to the secluded grandeur of the villa in Soto Grande, from the Kerkennian marriage ceremonies with those age-old customs to the uber-glamorous Bali wedding, this really trip really was one rollicking adventure! Thanks, Sonia, Motez, Ines and Edouard, for including me in all the fun! I look forward to a continued lifetime of memories we’ll all be able to share!