May Daze

Happy Memorial Day from Hong Kong! 

Of course, our pint-sized former British colony clinging to the base of the Pearl River Delta doesn't mark Memorial Day like we do back home. But the end of May is still a beguiling time of year—and has decidedly summery connotations! It's not quite the unofficial start of the season it is in America, since the heat's been rising since late March. Nonetheless, I would still say it's the point at which summer shifts into high gear, as frequent junk parties, languorous beach visits and near-constant air conditioning once indoors all become the norm for the next few months.

The weather has been beautiful—just beautiful—for the last few weeks! Early morning weekday constitutionals with Fredric have teased me with gorgeous blue skies, knowing full well I'd be spending the bulk of my day in the office. Sunsets from various parts of town have colored the air with impossibly rich shades of orange and red. Tram rides, complete with cooling breezes, have whisked me along the streets I've known for coming on to nine years, bathing them in pure, clean light. A great time of the year is starting up again, and May itself is one of Hong Kong's finest months!

While today may not be commemorated here, May 1st is designated as a Hong Kong public holiday, called Labour Day. It's a similar concept to our own Labor Day in September—meant as a celebration to honor workers—and believe it or not, America is quite out of step with the rest of the world on that one. Over eighty other countries also celebrate their equivalent of Labor Day on the first day of May!

Labour Day was duly marked with both a barbecue lunch and a barbecue dinner on my roof. Yes, you read that right. After remaining grill-less for several years, my rooftop is again blessed with a barbie—a handsome, stainless steel, secondhand job, much slicker than the old charcoal version that kicked the bucket back in 2013. Hopefully the coming summer months are filled with burgers, ribs, corn, frankfurters and all other kinds of assorted goodies! Drop on up if you're hungry!

The catalyst behind the barbecue is my new flatmate Antoine, who has actually been living here for a few months now. Antoine is a bon vivant who truly enjoys making the most of life, and when he laid eyes on the rooftop, one of his first observations was that it needed a barbecue to maximize its potential.

In addition to the barbecue, Antoine's also been a driving force behind quite a few new rooftop plants, two new couches, a dining room table, a china cabinet and a particularly flashy Asian-style chest. I can't say bringing them all up the stairs was a particularly fun experience, but I must admit, my apartment has probably never looked better.

A few days after Labour Day came another notable box on the calendar, and one of my favorite days of the year: Cinco de Mayo. I don't actually recall being aware of the celebration during my childhood in New Jersey. I first started to really enjoy my Cinco de Mayos during my time at Villanova. But once I learned about its existence, I was hooked. I still love taking special advantage each year by eating as much Mexican food as I can get my hands on, usually for both lunch and dinner! 

This year, I rocked up to Agave in Wan Chai around noon for some chilaquiles and margaritas. My friend Yvonne joined me a bit later, and it was another memorable installment of the day. I think I've visited Agave on every single one of my Hong Kong Cinco de Mayos, so I'm glad I got the chance to drop in again. For my money, it's easily the top Mexican restaurant in town, serving what I consider to be Hong Kong's best nachos and, perhaps more importantly, its finest margarita. (Next year, Cinco de Mayo meets Sunday brunch! Stay tuned!)

I had to swap my regular dinnertime visit for mid-afternoon revelry because my colleague Pauline recently turned fifty, and chose that Saturday evening as the moment for her big celebration. It was great to gather with all my colleagues and Pauline's other friends in the clubhouse of her housing complex in Sham Tseng. The lesson of the day was that when you mix mid-afternoon margaritas with Pauline's celebratory champagne, you get a Sunday hangover of epic proportions. But one that is totally worthwhile!

I'm not sure if I've written about it before, but Hong Kong stages a special festival every spring called Le French May. In reality, Le French May starts in April and stretches well into the summer. (This year, the movie selection doesn't even start until June.) Still, I love that the place I've chosen to call home has such a vibrant French community, and Le French May is really when it puts its best foot forward. This year happens to be the festival's twenty-fifth anniversary! 

Even the Happy Valley races get in on the Gallic action, celebrating "Happy Wednesday French Night" over three successive mid-week race meetings. You can bet that I was present for all of them. The first week featured a French a capella group, the second a hip hop dance duo who were truly mesmerizing, and the final installment—in addition to some decidedly mediocre crunchy John Dory fingers with lemon caper mayonnaise—the accompaniment of a stellar French jazz band. 

There's only a few weeks of racing left before summer hiatus, so you better believe I'm taking full advantage! My luck, however, I'm sad to say, has been pretty dismal of late. 

Le French May is something I look forward to each year, but another recent event was of a rarer vintage: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's royal wedding at Windsor Castle. We're lucky here in Hong Kong that the time difference put our viewing parties in the early evening, because my Stateside friends had to rise at an unholy hour (at least for a Saturday) in order to witness the pomp and splendor of something the British have mastered better than any other nation. 

If you were to survey Hong Kong's English expats and ask them to name their favorite home-style pub, chances are the most common answer would be The Globe, with its otherworldly selection of beers and ciders, authentic ambiance and first-rate food. It really feels beamed to SoHo from faraway Blighty. Of course, that's where I wound up to view the nuptials, especially since my beloved Yorkshire Pudding (the venue where I had watched the last royal wedding, when Prince William wed Kate Middleton) has since been replaced with an obscene Burger King.

It's refreshing when something so positive unites strangers around the world. When you think about it, tragedy is usually what brings people together. So that night, while I made new friends with the diverse crowd who had gathered to watch the romantic occasion unfold half-a-world away, I couldn't help but smile at the whole thing. 

Another public holiday—and thus another mid-week day off work—came in the form of Buddha's Birthday last Tuesday. I know I've written about it several times before, but when I whittle the list of all sixteen of Hong Kong's public holidays down to my handful of favorites, this—along with the Dragon Boat Festival and the Mid-Autumn Festival—is on the podium. 

Fredric and I caught the 8:30am ferry to Cheung Chau from Pier Five, bright and early to beat the crowds who flock to the tiny island for its iconic Bun Festival. The sun was brighter than I can ever recall, and even the newspapers the next day said that the oppressive heat deterred many people from visiting. (Rest assured, it was still mobbed!) But watching the colorful procession of venerable statues, lion dancers, and—most memorably—the 'flying' townschildren wind their way through the streets is nothing short of breathtaking. 

The basketball courts abutting the main temple are transformed during the festival, with colossal thirty foot tall bun towers, overlooked by larger-than-life statues of three deities. Gongs and drums sound constantly, and smoke and incense fill the air. At one point, I even chanced upon a bakery supplying the festival's signature buns, and paused for a moment as the baker stamped each one with a lucky symbol.

It was a glorious day, as I've come to expect it to be. I got a ringside table at a local restaurant along the parade route and chowed down on tasty salt-and-pepper squid while quaffing my fair share of ice cold Tsing Taos under the scorching May skies. 

After I had my fill of the parade, I relocated to the island's north side, where a comely little café perched between two beaches beckons patrons with balmy winds and casual vibes. My phone had died at this point, but luckily I had a good book. And by the time I got home around 9pm, I was ready to call it one of Buddha's best birthday parties yet.

Even this past weekend was one to remember. I heard about a family-owned Egyptian restaurant called Aziza nestled in Kennedy Town, and enlisted Max and Céline to try it out with me. It was one of the best meals I've enjoyed in quite a long while, and it took me back to my magical Cairene sojourn last summer. Later that same day, a Sichuan feast in Causeway Bay merged into a big night out in Lan Kwai Fong, chock full of those unplanned encounters with old friends that makes any nocturnal adventure in Hong Kong such a special occasion.

So, yes, as May 2018 draws to a close, I think I can safely say that this summer is on track to be a real winner. I hope the rest of the season is as much fun as the past month! Somehow, I have a sneaking suspicion it will be!

PRarty

Big news, everybody! Last Friday afternoon, I stopped by Immigration Tower to pick up my permanent Hong Kong identity card! After eight-and-a-half years of living in the Pearl of the Orient, I got PR! 

I've been able to apply since last March, and in the lead up to the official date, I had half expected to submit the paperwork the moment I became eligible. But it's quite an intense application process, including forms, letters, tax records, tenancy agreements and visa scans. It took me nearly an extra year to get my act together, buckle down and finally take care of all that. But I'm glad I did, and I couldn't be more delighted to be an official permanent resident of the place I love most!

My application was sent to the immigration authorities on 13 February, just before I flew home to the US for Chinese New Year. Exactly six weeks later, I had to make my first visit to Immigration Tower, for what they term an "interview." While I was sitting around waiting for my number to be called—the whole process took about three hours—a friendly government employee helped me to register to vote.

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but I had at least anticipated I would be asked a few questions. In reality, the "interview" is just the formal process where you get your photograph taken for the new card and register your fingerprints in the system. At that point, the officer takes your old Hong Kong identity card and issues a temporary interim identity paper, which states the dates between which you must return to collect your new permanent card.

Technically, I had a month to drop by again to pick it up, but I showed up on the first day possible, and practically skipped through the doors on my way out! I indulged in a celebratory yellow curry at New Bangkok Restaurant, and walked home to Happy Valley, where I basked in the glories of my rooftop—and couldn't stop looking at my new card!

I'm not one to count my chickens before they've hatched, so until I actually held the card in my hands, I didn't really broadcast the news. I was afraid something might go wrong in the process, so although I definitely hoped to celebrate in some way, I wanted to wait to plan it until I was sure I'd actually get PR. So last night, a week after the official pickup, I invited some friends over to the rooftop for drinks and revelry, which I dubbed a PRarty. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it segued into another exceptionally late night in Lan Kwai Fong, with an early morning tram ride home in the morning light!

I know this is a major step in my Hong Kong story, and as I look back on the journey so far, I am as full as ever with so much love and gratitude for this city and all it has given me: my memories, my friends, my career and my Fredric! If you had told me when I stepped off that plane in 2009 that I'd still be living here in 2018—and with no plans to leave in sight—I'm sure I wouldn't have believed it!

But here I am, one of Hong Kong's newest permanent residents! So thanks, you big, beautiful city, you... and here's to many more adventures in our shared future!

A Little Bit of Everything

If ever there were a week of Hong Kong life that supremely warranted a well-deserved rest, it would surely be this one, the immediate aftermath of the Sevens. I plan on heading straight home after work each day until at least Friday, to do little but sleep, read, watch a little television and perhaps venture one flight up to my rooftop. Yes, I'm exhausted, but I wouldn't even think of trading the memories of the past fortnight for all the relaxation on Earth.

Dusk at Hong Kong Stadium

It's the second week of April, so you know the drill by now, and could probably write this blog post for me. It normally goes something like this: the weather has gotten better (check), the Hong Kong Film Festival has taken place (check) and, somehow, I've made it through another iteration of the Rugby Sevens (check). Yes, in the stretch of days that has flown past since my return from the Middle East, Hong Kong life has been as full as ever, and perhaps as predictable. But it's still one of the greatest times of the year in this city, and I am glad I took full advantage.

Typical Sevens Craziness

For one memorable day, Courtney was back in town. She and her boyfriend Brad have just moved to the US, and she passed back through Hong Kong en route from Thailand to Las Vegas. We met in Happy Valley on Good Friday, and spent a great string of hours hitting up some of our favorite spots in town.

Welcome back, Courtney!

Then came Easter, which was celebrated with a lovely afternoon on Repulse Bay Beach with my friends Sophie, Romain, their newborn baby Basile and a whole flock of others. After catching the bus back to the north side of Hong Kong Island, I indulged in a good, old-fashioned American dinner at the Flying Pan before watching Easter Parade at home. All in all, I'd say it was a pretty great Easter.

Easter Sunset

And, of course, the Film Festival was back in town, too. The schedule was actually released back in February, and I made the list—as I do every year—of those movies that jumped off the page and most piqued my interest. Unfortunately, a significant chunk of this year's festival took place during my time in Dubai. And I had to make a choice relatively early on about whether to tack a free weekend onto the tail end of my trip, or, alternatively, whether to rush back to Hong Kong immediately on the heels of my final meeting, to jump right in to the glories of the festival.

As big a movie lover as I consider myself to be, I am very satisfied with my decision to linger in the UAE. But I sincerely hope that I get to fully participate in next year's festival.

In the end, I only managed to squeeze in a quartet of screenings this year—in 2013, I attended that many in a single Saturday—but all four of them were worthwhile experiences. The first movie I took in was one of the Restored Classics that have come to be a high point in any year's crop of films. My friend Romain and I met at the Hong Kong Cultural Centre to see Luis Bunuel's Belle de Jour, starring a radiant Catherine Deneuve in one of her most iconic roles. I love that the festival presents such rare opportunities to see these kinds of movies with an audience and on a big screen, seeing that if you normally wanted to catch a 1960s film, you're only option in Hong Kong is to watch it on your television or computer.

HKIFF 2018

Later that night, I caught Transit, a German film ostensibly set during World War II yet shot as if it were taking place in present day Marseilles. It was a deeply moving experience, and very thought-provoking. And, as a sort of bonus to the film itself, the screening was preceded by a brief award ceremony in the Cultural Centre, where the juries of this year's festival presented a bevvy of prizes to the creators of the top short films and documentaries and the winner of the young director's competition. In all the years I've attended the festival—and that's every year since 2011—I'd never even known about this ceremony, so it was quite serendipitous to get a chance to witness it by pure luck.

An unexpected awards ceremony

On Tuesday morning, there was only one thing on my mind: Villanova basketball. I had searched high and low for a bar showing the final NCAA tournament game, but American college sports are not nearly as popular here as they are back home. I had almost given up hope entirely, when I got the bright idea to search Facebook for the University of Michigan's alumni page. As fate would have it, they were gathering to watch the game at Wagyu, a popular bar and restaurant in Central. So, as the sole representative of Villanova surrounded by close to thirty Michigan fans, I cheered on our Wildcats as they really powered their way to victory.

NCAA final at Wagyu

  

I must say, the Michigan crew was gracious and friendly, and although I would have loved to have been in the company of more die hard 'Nova fans, I'm very grateful that I got to watch the game live and in a memorable setting.

Celebratory 'Nova flag flying proud in my bedroom window!

The next day, my focus went back to movies. I caught a late afternoon screening of the documentary Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story, and truth be told, it was my favorite of this year's bunch. I learned so much about one of Hollywood's most beautiful stars, and was struck by her candor, intelligence, wit and strength. I wholeheartedly recommend that you see this movie if you can. 

Later that same night, I was back in the Cultural Centre to watch The Florida Project, Sean Baker's newest hit. Luckily, this was one of the "Meet the Audience" screenings I've come to love about any year's festival, and Mr. Baker appeared post-movie to talk about the making of the film and his creative process, making a very memorable end to an entirely too-short festival.

Face-to-Face with Sean Baker after The Florida Project

We had another Hong Kong public holiday on Thursday, to mark the Ching Ming Festival. Although there were movie screenings as part of the festival's official final day, the ones I was most keen on attending had already sold out by the time I got around to thinking about buying tickets. Still, my friend Kevin mentioned he had extra passes to the Rugby Tens at the neighboring Hong Kong Football Club, and I could have one if I was interested.

I must confess, as much as I've loved the Sevens over the past years, I'd only been marginally aware that the Tens takes place in the same week. What a fool I've been! It was a wonderful afternoon, with good food and drinks, a much more intimate atmosphere than the monumental Sevens, and a very classy setting inside one of the city's most storied clubs. I hope I'm fortunate enough to return in the future.

The Rugby Tens at the Hong Kong Football Club

Then, like that, it was Rugby Sevens Friday. I hadn't made much effort to secure a ticket, yet I was strangely unconcerned. That afternoon, I was speaking with an insurance company about some work-related matters. At the end of the conversation, it turned to sports. "Are you going to the Sevens this weekend?" he asked me. 

"I don't have a ticket yet," I replied, "but these things seem to have a way of working themselves out." 

A second later I was offered a free one to Saturday's games, and a little later, Kevin again came through with an extra Friday ticket. I couldn't believe my good fortune. On Friday evening, I made my way to the stadium after work, not arriving until about 7pm. Without much effort, I bumped into friends right fairly quickly, and the whole weekend melted into one big, colorful, chaotic blur.

"Hey, Baby!"

So, yes, I'm ready to sleep for a week, but this truly is one of the best times of the year in Hong Kong, and I know I'm very lucky that the stars aligned for me to soak up all the sun, cinema and sports that make this time of the year such a standout stretch on the calendar!

Oh My, Dubai!

I'm back in Hong Kong, having landed a bit before noon today, after a wonderful first trip to Dubai. Inspired by the desert, I've just switched on The English Patient, and Fredric and I are snuggling on our couch in Happy Valley, glad to be reunited. 

While it was definitely a business trip, my time in Dubai was peppered with plentiful sightseeing adventures as well, and although I only got a taste of the UAE, I can safely say that I cannot wait to return!

As I mentioned in my last post, I actually landed in Dubai on Saint Patrick's Day, at 7am! I got to my hotel—the Novotel Suites at the Mall of the Emirates—easily enough, but there was little I could do after checking in. My room wasn't ready yet, but the friendly staff at the front desk kept my bags for me and I nipped around the corner to the hotel's namesake shopping mecca. 

The Mall of the Emirates is a truly astounding place. Chock full of shops and restaurants—including many American chains that are decidedly absent from Hong Kong and that I was delighted to stumble upon—plus a massive cinema and (get this!) the Middle East's first indoor ski resort! 

I spent over an hour simply wandering around, and although many of the shops weren't open at that hour, it was still a fascinating introduction to Dubai's famous "mall culture." A bit peckish, I selected IHOP as the venue for my first meal, ordering a helping of cinnamon pancakes with scrambled eggs, sausage and hash browns. 

Back at the Novotel, I was pleasantly surprised that the staff had managed to get my room ready by around 10am, so I was able to unpack and clean myself up after the journey. I also reached out to my buddy Romain, who moved with his wife Janet to Dubai at the end of last year. They were heading out for brunch and invited me to join. Having just stuffed myself to capacity on pancakes, I wound up only consuming a refreshing lemonade with mint once we met, but it was so nice to catch up and hear all about their new life in this very interesting metropolis. 

One thing I learned during our conversation is that pretty much every expat in town has his or her own vehicle, as driving is a necessary part of city life in Dubai. So we walked to where they had parked and drove towards the beach. We lucked out finding a spot near the waterfront La Mer, a new-ish complex of restaurants strung out along the Persian Gulf. A second lemonade with mint was obviously in order while we relaxed on bean bag chairs taking in the view. To one side, the glittering Burj Khalifa towering over everything; to the other, the gently crashing waves and crowds of beach-goers soaking up the Saturday sun's late afternoon rays.

I even got a chance to go back to Romain and Janet's apartment afterwards, where I'd be staying for my last two nights after the work portion of the trip had drawn to a close. Romain and I killed a couple of Coronas at their dining room table before bringing our second round down to their condo's pool.

The skies were darkening, and the lights of the city were starting to illuminate, and my friends excitedly suggested making the short trek down the street to the Burj Khalifa, where regular fountain shows dazzle the ever-present crowd of tourists taking in the sight of the world's tallest building. 

Of course, I'd seen the Burj several times from different parts of the city that day. I mean, it's visible from pretty much everywhere. Still, to be standing directly beneath the structure was truly mesmerizing. It's almost incomprehensibly tall, and nearly impossible to capture the whole thing in a photograph from such a close vantage point.

Then the fountain started spewing water to the tune of Edith Piaf's La vie en rose, and I got chills as it really hit me that I was finally taking in a sight I've longed to see for years. Back to the Novotel I went, where I met up with my director, Dan, who had landed around 8pm. We had a few drinks at the semi-hidden bar in the hotel lobby—called Ezaz—and I took the opportunity to squeeze in a few Guinnesses, reminding myself that it was indeed Saint Patrick's Day. 

As you may already know, the Middle East operates on a different weekly schedule than the western world. Whereas we work Monday through Friday, enjoying our weekend from Saturday to Sunday, this region works Sunday through Thursday, taking off on Friday and Saturday. So the next morning, the work portion of the trip was already commencing. We had a string of back-to-back meetings that day, which took us from 10am to about 5 in the evening without more than a fifteen minute break. Obviously, after we were done, some post-meeting libations were in order. 

Dan has a friend in Dubai named Kevin, and when he called him that evening to see where he was, he turned out to be just across the street! He took us for drinks at a neat little pub called the Eloquent Elephant.

While chatting with Kevin over a few tasty IPAs, I became conscious of the fact that I was becoming literate in this new city. Really, that's one of my favorite points in any trip. I arrived in Dubai knowing next to nothing about the UAE, about its history, its government, its geography or its culture. Kevin, and others with whom I had spoken over the past day, were so full of information—and the conversations were so interesting—that I realized I now knew so much more than I had just two days earlier.

Soon, we hopped an Uber to an elegant shisha spot before finishing our night at the slightly seedy bar at the York Hotel. Having started at 5pm, we were still in bed early enough to get a full night's rest before our next day's agenda. 

After our Monday morning meeting, Dan was keen for a juicy hamburger. I mentioned that the Mall of the Emirates had a branch of one of my old favorites, Johnny Rockets, so we headed back towards our hotel via taxi. Settling into our cozy booth at the 1950s themed joint, Dan seemed elated. We ordered a round of milkshakes and burgers, and it was a fantastic lunch. Dan even took it upon himself to ask for a second milkshake and a second burger, while I was totally stuffed after my initial order. 

At our hotel, we attempted to do an internal conference call from the sunny rooftop pool, but the logistics just weren't working out. We had to relocate to Dan's room, but while he popped out for another afternoon meeting, I headed straight back up to the top floor to read my guide book in the glorious weather. 

I regrouped with Dan again a bit later—naturally at the hotel bar—but he wasn't feeling fantastic after the previous evening, so we only had a few rounds before he headed up to his room. While I wasn't particularly ambitious to hit the town, I had noticed that the cinema in the Mall of the Emirates was showing a solid selection of the most recent crop of Oscar winners. As luck would have it, by the time I dropped by the box office, the next screening of The Shape of Water was slated to commence in less than an hour. I bought myself a ticket and decided to bide my time at the mall's Cinnabon. Of course, I also bought some nachos before actually going inside, so after lunch at Johnny Rocket's and these two snacks, it definitely wasn't the healthiest of days from a dining perspective. Oh,well... I loved the movie, and was very impressed with the cinema itself, from it's enormous screen to the top-tier sound system. 

There were more meetings on Tuesday, including lunch with an insurance company. When I had first asked Dan—who has been to Dubai four or five times already—what the one thing is that he most looks forward to on any given trip, he replied without missing a beat: "Dessert at Cafe Bateel." So when we learned there was a branch of the popular restaurant close to the office where our morning meeting was held, it was the natural answer when the insurance company asked us if we had a spot in mind for lunch.

As much fun as it had been gorging on American treats over the past few days, the Middle Eastern fare on offer at Cafe Bateel was truly first rate, and the obvious culinary highlight of my trip up until that point. I had an off-the-charts sea bass served with asparagus over saffron risotto. After a lengthy debate, I settled on the pistachio cake for dessert—asking for a scoop of pistachio ice cream as well, for good measure—and was not disappointed. Studded with about fifty delectable little green nuts and drizzled with a sweet syrup, the cake was enough to make me understand why dining here is one of Dan's "must do" items when in Dubai. 

It didn't really make sense to go back to the hotel, since we only had about a two hour break before our next appointment just nearby. Luckily, our company has a serviced office in Dubai that just so happened to be across the street, in Emirates Towers. So we were able to go up and do a bit of work from one of the iconic skyscrapers before heading to the day's final meeting.

Bar hopping was the name of the game afterwards. First, we headed to Lock, Stock and Barrel, an American-themed spot where we indulged in chicken wings and mac 'n cheese balls washed down with a few pints. Then we popped back to the hotel, where Dan and I changed out of our suits and squeezed in one obligatory round at Ezaz. I had read in my guide book about a chic little spot not too far away, called Bahri Bar, which looked awesome and was meant to have a breezy outdoor terrace with view across to the iconic Burj Al Arab, and Dan indulged my request to check it out.

The bar, where we lingered over a few glasses of Merlot, was absolutely hopping. Although we walked along the terrace, the only table available for us was inside, just in front of the bandstand. Still, I was instantly smitten with the place, and I can assure you that I'll be a repeat customer on any given trip to Dubai. (I have a feeling I'd be a regular if I ever moved there.)

Next up, we wandered to an al fresco lounge with even better views of the Burj Al Arab, the colors of its facade in a constant state of fluctuation. Over the course that the evening, I fell in love with that building. While it's the Burj Khalifa that's listed in all the record books, for me, the Burj Al Arab is truly Dubai's most graceful and spectacular tower. Opened in 1999, and with a shape meant to evoke thoughts of a ship's sail filled with an Arabian breeze, the Burj Al Arab is a true stunner.

As I waxed poetic about the structure, Dan decided this would be a good opportunity to actually visit one of the bars atop the building. Our taxi was stopped at the security gates, but a helpful guard called up to the restaurant making a reservation for us. (They won't let you in without one.) We spent a few moments in the airy atrium of a lobby, as it sank in that I was actually inside the Burj.

And then, up we went to Gold on 27. It was a bit surreal to be sipping classy cocktails—mine came accompanied by a genie lamp atmospherically oozing smoke—in one of the world's most famous buildings, but what a memorable Tuesday night!

The week was just flying by, and it was a fantastic mixture of work and pleasure, the way every business trip should be. On Wednesday, it was our turn to treat a client to lunch, and we wound up at an astoundingly tasty Lebanese restaurant in the Dubai International Financial Centre called Al Mandaloun. Over hummus, grilled meats, chicken livers and my favorite stuffed grape leaves, we had a fantastic conversation with one of my favorite clients. And to top it off, we had one of the niftiest little desserts I've ever enjoyed—Ghazal Beirut, a delicious pistachio ice cream covered with home-spun Lebanese cotton candy. Dan and our client only had a taste each, leaving me to devour the rest of the enormous dish. And I was in seventh heaven.

Dan made an executive decision that because the week's meetings had gone so well up to this point, we could take the rest of the afternoon off to see some more of the city. So after changing at the Novotel, we made a beeline for the Dubai Frame, a newly-opened five hundred foot tall picture frame in Zabeel Park that affords an overview of the city's dusty urban sprawl, taking in both the oldest neighborhood of Bur Dubai and the beating financial heart of its post-modernistic downtown. 

I'm not going to lie: the whole thing has the appearance of a giant work in progress, nowhere near completion. Construction abounds, and, although individual towers are certainly aesthetically captivating, when viewed on high, Dubai itself isn't really particularly pretty, in the way that Paris, New York, Rio de Janeiro or even Hong Kong can be. It's impressive, no doubt, but not pretty. Perhaps time will change all this, as the cityscape continues to expand.

The floor of the viewing deck atop the Dubai Frame is partially made up of glass panes, which fog up for sociable periods of time—giving the impression you are standing on normal flooring—before suddenly clearing up to reveal their transparent nature.

The windows frame the zig-zaggy towers of the city to one side, while the other gives way to a long sweep across a low-lying expanse opening onto Dubai's famous Creek. If I hadn't been so darn excited to head back out and explore more of the city, I could have lingered up there all afternoon.

A taxi dropped us off in Bastikaya, one of the only historic quarters of the town that hasn't been destroyed to make way for the future. Wandering its sand-colored lanes was a utterly beguiling experience. I half expected Aladdin and Jasmine to come flying out of any given window on their magic carpet. It truly felt like a setting from The Thousand and One Nights, and I loved the palpable ambiance of the real Middle East.

We strolled past wind towers and minarets, emerging at a very attractive waterfront market peddling all the usual suspects: magnets, mugs, fabric and other assorted souvenirs. All the shop owners were giving us their best sales pitch, but I wasn't really in the mood for shopping. I just wanted to soak it all in.

For one Dirham each—or about twenty-five cents—Dan and I caught an old-fashioned abra from Bur Dubai across the Creek to Deira, another old, souq-filled area. Crossing the Creek only takes about five minutes, but what a memorable ride it is, with the sun setting and the quaint old buildings lining both sides of the waterway! It was a bit surprising for me, because Dubai is often billed as a twenty-first century city, and I wasn't even aware it had preserved such a gorgeous swath of its past. I am so glad to know that even in a place that is preparing to dominate the future, attention is still paid to safeguarding history. 

Disembarking in Deira, Dan and I immediately found ourselves at Dubai's famous Gold Market. There were additional souqs peddling spices, utensils and pretty much all manner of goods. I could have aimlessly wandered the area for hours, but Dan wasn't as intrigued by the sights, sounds and smells as I was. And we were both a bit thirsty.

I had read that the best bar in the area was situated atop the Radisson Blu, overlooking the Creek. Called Up on the Tenth, the watering hole was a true find, and another spot I'll add to my must-visit list on future trips. (In fact, the Radisson Blu on the Creek would also be my hotel of choice for a future visit.) We even ordered a barbecue chicken pizza as night set in and the twinkling lights of the city were switched on.

We crossed the Creek again—by Metro instead of abra this time—and made our way to the Viceroy, an English-style pub in the Four Points by Sheraton, before ending our night at Club Seven, a raucous bar in the Park Regis, capping off what had definitely been my favorite day of the trip so far.

On Thursday, we had our last official meeting of the trip, a cordial office visit with an insurance company that's recently launched some new products in the region. It's always interesting to learn more about the Middle East markets, paving the way for potential new clients and more reasons to return for future trips. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ridiculously excited for the work portion of the trip to end and the "pure vacation" portion to start.

On one of his previous trips to Dubai, Dan had stayed at the JW Marriott Marquis, which held the title of tallest hotel building in the world from its opening in 2012 until earlier this year, when it was surpassed by the Gevora Hotel, about ten minutes down the road. Since it wasn't far from the office where we'd just completed our meeting, we headed over for lunch at Farine, gorging on French favorites like a croque madame, a caramelized onion and Reblochon flammkuchen, and a gluttonous amount of delicious cheese I wound up taking to go.

That afternoon, we embarked on the one Dubai excursion that is de rigueur for any first time visitor: the desert safari. A white van picked us up at the Novotel at 3pm and drove us and four other tourists about fifty minutes outside the city. The first stop was a very tacky souvenir shop where you could take photos with Arabian falcons, ride quad bikes and buy souvenirs.

I could have done without the first stop, but it was a small price to pay for the glorious next portion of the afternoon, which we spent "dune bashing" over the desert's sandy mounds. I've simply never experienced anything like it before. Our driver, Nasser, deflated all four tired of the vehicle when we crossed from paved road to sand. Then, he gunned it up steep hills at top speeds as we slid down the other side.

After about twenty minutes of exhilarating action, he stopped the car and let us out to bask in the sparse grandeur of the desert. The sun was setting, and all you could see in every direction was golden sand dunes undulating off into oblivion. It was just like those scenes in The English Patient—which has long been a favorite movie—and combined with my memories from last summer in Egypt, it really instilled a desire in me to plan a future trip to the region to truly experience the magical, otherworldly landscape.

The final stop of the tour was a mock Bedouin village under the stars, with unlimited food, shisha, camel rides, henna tattoos and entertainment, like belly dancers and fire jugglers. It was clearly designed for the tourists, and nothing seemed even remotely authentic about the whole thing, but it was still an ineffably entertaining stretch of hours.

Dan was flying home an some ungodly hour the next morning, so we toasted to a successful trip with one last round in Ezaz before he turned in. I hopped a taxi to JLT to meet my former colleague Dominic at an Irish pub called McGettigan's. He was out with a group of colleauges—Thursday night is Dubai's equivalent of Friday, remember—and the beer was flowing freely. In the end, I had my latest night of the week, finishing after 2am! But it was great to reconnect with Dom, who moved from Hong Kong to Dubai about three years ago, and also to chat with his work buddies about their own experiences working abroad.

As you can likely imagine, I opted to sleep in on Friday morning. Breakfast was served until 11am, and I didn't have to check out until noon. It was about 11:58am when I turned in my key at the front desk. About half an hour later, I was back at Romain and Janet's, who had also enjoyed a lazy morning in bed after a busy work week.

That day wound up being the highlight of my whole trip, as we drove across the border from Dubai to its neighboring emirate, Sharjah, where the whole Middle East vibe is much more readily palpable than in most parts of its more international cousin.

Thanks to Peggy and Sohail, who had plied me with tips on how to make the most of a day trip to Sharjah during their recent visit to Hong Kong, we had a blueprint of our day. First up would be lunch in an Iraqi restaurant famous for its grilled fish. And the afternoon would be spent in Sharjah's most famous museum, covering the scope of Islamic civilization and its contributions to art, science and culture.

The restaurant—Al Bait Al Baghdadi—was a true winner. The gregarious host suggested we start with a sharing platter of tasty hummus, the best baba ghanoush I've ever had, creamy tzatziki, and fattoush, plus unlimited Middle Eastern bread fresh from the ovens. Peggy had stipulated that we must order the grilled fish, so that was next up.

When I saw the waiter carrying the platter to our table, I literally began to laugh. The fish was enormous, weighing nearly seven pounds! But, boy, was it delicious. Romain, Janet and I all made a valiant effort, but in the end, we only consumed about half of the edible meat. Still, it was unforgettable.

Capping things off, we were given complimentary tea and dessert, a delectable custard topped with red Jell-O, which I somehow managed to eat in its entirety. A friendly Filipina waitress obliged my request to take a place mat as a souvenir, with the restaurant's name and contact details, plus a dozen or so black and white photos of old Baghdad.

En route back to Romain's car, we paused for a moment at a large glass window looking into the restaurant's kitchen, where the massive fish are prepared around a huge fire-filled pit. Had we stopped to gawk at the spectacle on our way in, perhaps we would have declined to order the appetizer sampler. I'm very glad the fish's enormity caught us all by surprise, as I wouldn't have wanted to skip those delicious starters.

On our way to the museum, we stopped at Starbucks so I could add one more mug to my still-growing collection. Although Dubai and Sharjah no longer have individual mugs, they do still sell a United Arab Emirates version that is now on proud display in my apartment. Since I perennially give up coffee for Lent, I ordered another refreshing lemonade with mint to go along with my newest souvenir.

We spent the next stretch of hours at Sharjah's incredible Museum of Islamic Civilization, housed in a heritage building along the waterfront. Visually stunning inside and out, the museum would be worth a visit for the architecture alone. Mix in the highly informative displays and you have a world-class attraction that should be required viewing for any visitor to the region.

The first floor covers the Islamic world's contributions to fields like medicine, mathematics, astronomy and architecture, while the second floor showcases thousands of pieces of art and artifacts that walk you through a progression of the region's cultural development.

Sharjah's downtown feels ancient—maybe not quite as biblically ancient as old Cairo seems, but compared to Dubai, it's a real juxtaposition of new and old—and I loved getting to soak up the vibes as we drove past its crumbling fort and killed another hour wandering the photogenic Souq Al Arsah.

Ensconced within the old souq is an atmospheric little cafe, riddled with character. They don't have much of a menu to speak of, but for a measly seven dirhams—or less than two bucks—Romain, Janet and I each had a refreshing drink and the friendly manager brought us over a plate of dried dates for a snack.

It may sound funny to say, but if anyone ever asks me what my number one recommendation would be for a vacation in Dubai, my answer will be taking a side trip up to Sharjah. I hope I'll be back soon to explore more of this fascinating emirate.

As we drove back, we decided we'd spend the evening at the bowling alley. I don't think I've gone bowling since my freshman year at Villanova in 2006, so I was surprised how well I did. And it was just good fun. I know bowling isn't necessarily the hippest way to spend a Friday night, but I had an absolute blast, and want to make the effort to coordinate similar evenings more often. (Apparently, there's a bowling alley within walking distance to my apartment in Hong Kong.)

We flirted with the idea of going out for real afterwards, but in the end, it wasn't in the cards. I passed out at the condo while Romain and I were watching a soccer match between France and Colombia. It was probably all for the best.

Saturday was a relaxing, leisurely day, complete with one of Dubai's famous brunches. Janet found a great deal on Groupon, and booked us in at Porterhouse at the Sofitel on the Palm, an artificial island shaped like the tropical tree. As part of the package, we could linger on the beach or by the pool after finishing our meal.

Romain and I each had two ice cold beers to wash down the hearty food, and we all promptly fell asleep on the beach chairs afterwards, waking up around 6pm! So I'd say it was a great introduction to Dubai brunch culture.

Romain and Janet's favorite restaurant in Dubai is Coya, a Peruvian stunner in the tony Four Seasons. Although our intention was only to go for desserts, our seats at the window looking into the open kitchen proved great marketing to sample some of the heartier dishes on the main menu. We had crab, veal hearts and manchego balls, all of which were sumptuous, before wolfing down a trio of stellar desserts—a sweet corn sundae, a salted caramel ganache and a molten chocolate cake, all of which were out of this world.

We migrated to the bar for a nightcap before heading back to the apartment, ending a truly sensational day. As the saying goes, friends who love to eat are the best type of friends. Romain and Janet are proof positive.

I was heartbroken that Sunday was already here, my final day in Dubai. Although I wouldn't be flying out until 11pm—meaning that for all intents and purposes, I still had a full day—Romain and Janet both had work. However, my buddy Ahmed from Egypt had also moved to Dubai, and was off from work for two weeks, meaning we finally got a chance to hang out together.

I met him at Ibn Battuta mall, which has got to be Dubai's trippiest shopping experience. Ibn Battuta was a Moroccan explorer who trekked all across the globe in the fourteenth century. In his honor, this mall has created a half dozen or so themed sections, based on some of these destinations. There's an Indian section complete with giant elephants, an Egyptian area with pharaonic carvings and hieroglyphics, a Chinese harbor with an enormous junk and a recreation of a Tunisian village a twilight.

After a quick bite to eat in the food court, Ahmed, his girlfriend Abby and I plopped down at an outdoor shisha cafe for a lengthy catch up. I met Ahmed in Cairo, put in touch by mutual friends from Hong Kong who had known him during his stint here. We really hit it off in Egypt, and I was blown away by his hospitality and passion for his country. As you can imagine, it was so nice to see him again, and to hear about his life in Dubai.

Later that afternoon, Ahmed suggested we drive to El Seed, an old-style (but actually brand new) waterfront village overlooking the Creek. We selected Mitra's waterfront terrace, picked a table in the sun and ordered round of lemonade and mint as the afternoon faded away.

Like that, it was time to think about packing. My friends dropped me off at the Dubai Mall, where I was able to squeeze in one final visit to the musical fountain at the foot of the Burj Khalifa before finding my way back to the apartment. Although nobody was home from work yet, I lounged by the pool until Romain got back, and then gathered all my belongings together before heading to the airport. With a few hundred Dirhams left over, I stocked up on some Bateel dates to take back to the office, and before I knew it, I was sitting on the plane, ready to head home. 

I wasn't sure what I was going to think of Dubai going into this trip. I knew that from a work perspective, the experience would be fulfilling, but I'd heard mixed things about the city itself from friends who had visited. People will tell you it's an artificial, superficial jumble in the middle of the desert, with little to offer by way of history and culture. While I guess on the surface, this may appear accurate, a little digging unearths glorious finds. I can safely say that it Dubai won me over, and I hope I'll be back again soon for further adventures in one of the world's most exciting destinations.

Dubai sees itself as ideally positioned to be a major player in a collective global future. At some points on this trip, I got the impression the city hardly cares about the present time at all; it's just setting itself up for dominance in the next century, shooting ever skyward, always looking for the next record to top or the next bit of technical progress to master. Its movers and shakers have the capacity not only to dream big but to make such dreams into realities—and to do so astoundingly quickly.

Standing beneath the Burj Khalifa that first night, Romain and I joked that potentially within our own lifetime, we may one day be in the same spot incredulously telling a newcomer, "Would you believe, when I first arrived here, this was the tallest building not only in Dubai, but in the world!" At first, it seems an incredible thought, but having spent some time in Dubai now, and having learned how fast a few forward thinkers, through sheer determination, have willed this city into being from a sleepy gulf trading port, I can't say I'll be particularly surprised if our joke turns out to be an accurate prediction.