Barreling Down the Northeast Corridor

I don’t think I’ve ever blogged from aboard a locomotive before, but I’m currently sitting on an Amtrak regional train, chugging down the northeast corridor en route from Boston to Philadelphia. My Villanova ten-year reunion is about to start, and I couldn’t be more excited. But the reunion really began a few days ago, so I’d like to take a few moments to recap my recent adventures. What better opportunity than a six-hour journey?

Looking out the window

You probably remember Jen and Shea, two of my best friends from Villanova who have made their fair share of appearances on the pages of this blog. I was one of Shea’s groomsmen at their phenomenal wedding back in 2014 and they both made their way to Hong Kong for a rip-roaring visit the following year.

Well, as fate would have it, Jen and Shea welcomed their second son, Max, a little over a month ago. The timing meant that it would be difficult (er, impossible) for them to make it down to Villanova for our reunion, but with them being among my closest pals from the class of 2009, I was determined to find some way to spend some time with them. I hadn't seen them in far too long, and I'd never had the chance to meet their fist son, JB, yet, either. So it seemed like a good opportunity!

JB! 

I reached out to see if they wanted a visitor to Cape Cod, where Shea grew up and where they recently relocated after several years living in Florida. To my delight, they seemed very excited at the suggestion. So I crafted an itinerary that saw me flying into Boston last Sunday and out of Newark at the end of my trip. Now firmly planted in my Amtrak seat, I’ll be in Philadelphia for the reunion until Monday, and then I’ll spend the rest of this vacation with my dad and sister in New Jersey before heading back to Hong Kong after Father’s Day.

Waiting to depart Hong Kong

I landed at Logan Airport slightly later than scheduled on Sunday night, but my good friend (and colleague) Kevin, who had very graciously offered to pick me up, was as chipper as ever when I emerged from the international arrivals gate. Kevin and his wife Erica are also great friends of mine, and since I was going to be in their ‘hood, it seemed fitting to spend some time with them, as well, while I had the chance.

Back at their home in Millis, Massachusetts, I finally got to meet the new family dog, Jonah, who Kevin and Erica recently adopted. Although it was already late, Kevin and I had a lot to catch up on, so over a few beers and a nice evening walk with the new pooch, we sped through what’s been going on in our lives over the past several months.

Hey, Jonah!

Bright and early Monday morning, I also got to spend some time with Erica, who had already gone to sleep by the time I arrived the night before. Alas, it was a short but sweet reunion before she had to head off to work. But I’m so glad we got to see one another.  

Kev had taken the day off work, so after breakfast sandwiches up the street from the house, we hit up the incredible Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston proper. This marvelous little stunner of a museum reminded me of the Barnes Foundation in Merion, Pennsylvania (before it was moved) and Sir John Soane’s Museum in London, because the way in which these museums’ designers display art alongside furniture, historic objects and personal items, which makes for very interesting strolling.

American breakfast, with great company!

The Gardner was also famously robbed in 1990, apparently the biggest art heist in history. The stolen works have yet to be recovered, and the museum continues to display the empty frames of the canvases that were purloined, a poignant reminder of the event.

Interior courtyard of Boston's Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

After a couple of hours in the museum, Kevin and I made our way to the Harpoon Brewery on the waterfront, where we indulged in a sampler of local beers and some tasty pretzels, while the beautiful afternoon drifted by.

A flight of beer at the Harpoon Brewery

Just before 4pm, I caught the Plymouth and Brockton express bus from South Station to the Sagamore Bridge, where Shea soon picked me up in his Jeep. After a few pit stops to stock up on beer, wine and whiskey, we went to his family’s home, where his parents, his brother, his two sons, the families gorgeous dogs and, of course, his wife Jen, were all waiting to welcome me.

Hey, Nova!

Of course, it was amazing to see such good friends again—and after such a long stretch, for I haven’t spent time with Shea and Jen since our friend Ryan’s wedding, only a month or so after their visit to Hong Kong nearly four years ago! I hadn’t seen his parents and brother since their own 2014 nuptials, and I’d never had the chance to meet the dogs or their sons, darling one-and-a-half-year-old J.B. and six-week-old Max.

Proud dad and his boys

Having relocated only a few months ago from West Palm Beach, Shea and Jen just bought an amazing house less than a ten-minute drive from his family’s home in Falmouth, Massachusetts on Cape Cod. It’s a massive project right now, as they get the house all fixed up and ready for their move in. For the next several months while the work gets underway, they’ll be living with Shea’s family, and the timing of my visit meant that I, too, would be staying there.

Shea’s parents cooked a tasty barbecued chicken dinner, complete with potatoes and salad. Washed down with the local brews we had just picked up, and catching up with such great people, it was an unforgettable dinner.

Of course, I’m sure you can guess that we stayed up late into the night, gathered around their homey kitchen table, continuing to reminisce and catch up, dropping names, sharing stories, and basking in glorious company.

Tuesday started with breakfast at home, simple but wonderful. Jen had a doctor’s appointment, but Shea and I took Nova and Riptide for walks around the cranberry bog that sits just behind the house. We then strolled along a glorious bike path, the golden New England sun shining strong.

Waking up in Cape Cod

Once Jen was ready, it was nearing lunchtime. We loaded the kids in the car and headed to a local favorite called the Daily Brew, where we stocked up on great sandwiches, which we took to Magansett Beach for our feast.

Later that afternoon, we went to a little secret spot called the Knob, a peninsula that juts into the sea near Wood’s Hole. And we also stopped at a waterfront restaurant called Shuckers, where I was treated to my first stuffed Quahog, a large local clam filled with spices and breadcrumbs, before being baked. Shea and I also ordered a half dozen oysters. It was, in a word, heaven.

As we turned down Shea’s street heading home, his new truck was being delivered: an enormous black pickup that he was partially financing by trading in his Jeep. He was clearly enamored with his new toy, and all of us ogled over the massive vehicle, as he showed off its functions.

When Shea and Jen asked me what the one thing I wanted to eat for dinner was, I answered a classic New England lobster roll. Shea, Jen and his mother seemed to run through the litany of all the town’s restaurants trying to brainstorm the best option. We wound up at Liam’s, and Jen and I both ordered the signature delicacy, hers hot and served with drawn butter, mine cold with mayo. It’s such an indulgent treat, and I always feel a tad gluttonous when I pamper myself, but how could I spend two and a half days on Cape Cod and not sample the iconic classic?

A delicious lobster roll

The treat of the morning on Wednesday was getting to visit their new home. You see, a contractor was coming by to give a quote on windows and trims, and that gave us a perfect opportunity to visit the house. I can’t wait to visit again, possibly in December, to see how they’ve done the place up. I know some day, years from now, we’ll all look back on that morning as a very special occasion, and I know my dear friends have found a perfect home for J.B. and Max to grow up.

My new buddy

We had a celebratory lunch at a local tea room on Main Street in Falmouth, complete with scones, New England clam chowder and sandwiches, mine being called Thanksgiving and featuring fresh turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing all packed into two slices of delicious whole wheat bread.

And after lunch, we migrated a few feet down the road to Ben and Bill’s, a local ice cream hotspot. They are famous in Falmouth for their lobster ice cream, and Shea has literally been talking about it for years. Our freshman year, in fact, which was 2005, meaning I’ve heard my buddy talk about the stuff for fourteen years now.

So it was with a great feeling of fulfilment that I ordered a cup that afternoon. It had a creamy, buttery base, complete with huge chunks of fresh lobster meat, and believe it or not, it really worked. I’d order it again in a heartbeat.

Our afternoon consisted of a few rounds of drinks at the waterfront Chart Room, with famous mudslides, and the Courtyard, a friendly outdoor sports bar, where I taught young J.B. how to cheers his drinking buddies. We even nicked the first glass he successfully toasted!

Outside the Chart Room

I really loved just sitting out there with everybody, adding new memories to our ever-growing list of things to talk about. I was sad it was already my last night, but so glad to realize Shea and Jen are now here for good, and I get to fly into Boston multiple times each year. I hope we never go four more years without seeing each other.

Jen playing with JB

It’s a rare occasion for me to get to enjoy a home-cooked dinner. In Hong Kong, I eat out pretty much every day. And even when I’m home, I am often planning which restaurants I want to go to. Of course, the exception is when my dad whips up one of his legendary Italian feasts. But that night, in Cape Cod, Shea’s mom had gone out of her way to spoil me with silky cod filets, perfectly baked in a garlic butter sauce, served with a delicious creamy rice.

As a last hurrah—and the second ice cream visit of the day—we drove in Shea’s new truck to the nearby Somerset Creamery, the best ice cream parlor in Falmouth according to just about everybody in the house. My peanut butter Oreo ice cream made a believer out of me.

It was another early rise this morning, and I didn’t have time to do much except say goodbye to my wonderful friends before Shea drove me back to the Sagamore Bridge to head back to South Station. But with Cathay Pacific’s daily direct flight between Hong Kong and Boston, I sincerely hope many future visits out to Cape Cod are in my future!

Next stop, Villanova!

The Rains Came

It's been raining for a month solid. No, I'm not kidding; we're all complaining about it. Every day, even if there's a brief respite with blue skies and you think all the precipitation is behind us, it turns out you're dead wrong.

I promise you: in an hour or so, the skies will darken. It may only be 10am, but all of a sudden, it will go and get all apocalyptic outside. Peering from the window, you’d swear it was nighttime. And then the skies open, dropping torrents of rain on the SAR. Don’t even think about leaving that umbrella behind. You’re going to need it!

The month of May 2019, for all its other highlights, will be remembered by yours truly for one thing above all others: the wettest weather I can recall. Now before you chime in, I know this isn’t the first time you’ve heard this grievance. Back in July 2017, on the cusp of my North African adventures in Egypt and Tunisia, I remember bemoaning the ever-present rainfall that had plagued the city for the first two months of summer.

And I seem to recollect another time, during the Hong Kong International Film Festival in 2014, when we also got what I described as a healthy, sustained dose of rain. The difference then, of course, was that I relished the wet weather when my daily objective involved squeezing in as many movie screenings—usually in shopping malls, usually directly connected to MTR stations—as humanly possible. (The twenty-one-movie tally I hit that year remains my record.)

And, of course, I not only recall but, rather, recall relishing many of the one-off typhoons and powerful black rain storms that roll through this town on occasion. They come in fast and then vanish just as quickly, leaving mesmerizing memories in their wake. So as I’ve pointed out before, it’s not the mere existence of a little precipitation that gets my goat. It’s a sustained string of slippery days, err, weeks, where it’s perpetually at least drizzling if not downpouring.

I cannot wait to hightail it out of Hong Kong in a few days, heading to the East Coast of United States for a summertime visit. I pray the region is blessed with glorious weather during my two weeks-plus in the country. I’ll even take a nighttime thunderstorm or two, so long as I get some sunny days!  

Alright, alright. Now that I’ve gotten the rant off my chest, I can take a moment to document some of the good things that have happened over the past four weeks. Firstly, I should probably start by reporting that my finger is healing very nicely, and although it will certainly bear a small scar, which I’ve dubbed “the tattoo of the Sevens,” that whole ordeal could have ended up a whole lot worse. (My friend Lou keeps sending me photos of actual tattoos fashioned around permanent scars, trying to give me a little inspiration to really take the nickname to heart.)

Another important development is the arrival of a new roommate, Simon, from France. As I mentioned in my last post, I've known Simon for awhile now, because he's the manager of a French restaurant and bar in Happy Valley called Saint-Germain. With Antoine now back in New York, there was a free room in the flat, and because it's always nicer to have a friend take up residence as opposed to a stranger, I didn't even bother listing the place once I learned Simon was interested. And our roommate-ship has gotten off to a great start. (Think, free beer and wine pretty much every time I show up at the bar.)

I’m also making good on my mid-year resolution to spend as much time as possible in Tai Kwun, the restored police station compound on Hollywood Road that now serves as a homegrown mecca of drinking, dining, culture and entertainment. As you know by now, May 1^st is a public holiday here: Hong Kong’s—and much of the world’s—commemoration of Labo(u)r Day. And the JC Cube, a cinema and event space in the compound, screened Orson Welles’ 1962 movie The Trial on the big screen that afternoon. Of course, I bought a ticket.

And as it fell on a Wednesday, it coincided with the Happy Valley horse races. (How fitting celebrating working hard to make money by losing some!) While mingling with friends and coordinating the next beer run at the track that night, I heard someone call out my name and turned to see my old pal Julius standing a few feet away! He moved back to Germany in 2011 but was in town for one short week for work. It was so nice to catch up and enjoy the races with him, just like the good old days.

I also enjoyed a phenomenal dinner at the world’s first Michelin-starred Punjabi restaurant over on Wyndham Street. My Indian friend Gargi had visited before and said, hands down, that it’s the best homestyle food she had yet found in Hong Kong. So when she invited me to tag along for a Saturday night dinner she organized, I greedily—and immediately—accepted her offer.

Let’s just say, the New Punjab Club will almost certainly find its way onto the itineraries of many of my future visitors. It was that good.

The next day was Cinco de Mayo, which I often point out is one of my all-around favorite days. I made a vow in this blog last May, upon realizing that this year it would fall on a Sunday, to coordinate a boozy brunch to commemorate the celebration. With my recent trip to Mexico only strengthening my convictions, I am happy to report that I followed through with that promise.

I was joined by a bevvy of international friends, including Omar, from Mexico, his girlfriend Sarah, from Canada, Myles and Chun, from Hong Kong, Mel, from Scotland, Dmitry, from Russia, his wife Eileen, from Singapore, Gargi, from India, Max and Celine from France, and Dave from Australia.

As you can probably guess, the venue I selected was Agave in Wan Chai, my perennial favorite Mexican restaurant in town. And with their incredible four hour long free flow margarita brunch, you can bet nobody went home hungry or thirsty.

  

I’m not sure if you remember my AirBnB guest Jennie who stayed in the flat back in December 2017? The one who made immaculate feasts in my pint-sized kitchen and opened a German goods store near HKU MTR Station? Anyway, I bumped into her at her shop one day at the beginning of the month, and we managed to reconnect. It turns out my timing was spot on, because a few days later she was moving to a new location among the traditional shops of atmospheric Sai Ying Pun—and she invited me to the opening party!

I stocked up on Ahoj-Braüse, sauerkraut and special dog treats for Fredric, all while sipping some wine and gorging on Jennie’s delicious homemade chocolate banana cake! I plan to be a frequent visitor to her shop once again.

A massive highlight of the month was the all-too-brief visit of my cousin Marisa, later the same night. Marisa, now a proud mother of two, finds herself in China for work a couple times a year, but usually just flies through Hong Kong on her way to the factories in Guangdong province. This time, due to a client meeting, she actually had a night here! And I jumped at the chance to spend some time with her.

The evening started rather urbanely, at a recently-opened jazz bar called Darkside in the brand-new Rosewood Hotel in (you guessed it) Kowloon. One of the factory owners with whom Marisa works was even gracious enough to treat us, as we enjoyed a sophisticated evening of port and live music. 

But when he was ready to go home, I steered Marisa and myself towards Lan Kwai Fong. We had Kill Bills in Geronimo and Jell-O syringes outside the bar formerly known as Stormies. (I won’t even patron the joke that took over Al’s Diner. But the compromise I’ve reached with Stormies’ replacement is never referring to it by its new name. Thus, it will henceforth be known on this blog as the bar formerly known as Stormies. It’s kind of the Sears Tower of Hong Kong.)

Our brief reunion ended with cocktails on tap at a Wyndham Street watering hole called Draftland, and then Marisa—whose flight was at 10am—headed to her Kowloon hotel via taxi. But I made her promise to finagle more Hong Kong time into her next itinerary! I may or may not have lingered a little later into the night, owing to an unexpected encounter with a flock of my friends heading to Volar.

The last weekend was taken up with the unexpected visit of another out-of-towner, Motez, who had a job interview in Shenzhen and opted to make a weekend of it. Apparently, the customs authorities on the China side of the border decided Tunisian passports do not qualify for “visa on arrival” status (although official sources indicate the contrary and Motez has entered successfully before).

Anyway, it wound up being a memorable whale of a weekend, an onslaught of way too many beers, meals and late nights. I even got Motez hooked on What’s My Line? over the course of a few evenings.

The culinary high-water mark for me was yet another phenomenal Sichuan lunch at Red Pepper in Causeway Bay, which has proved itself a dependable stand-in for my late, lamented American Restaurant. I was so impressed with their spicy Chongqing-style chicken with chilis on Saturday that a photo I took of the dish now serves as the wallpaper of my Blackberry.

Motez and I also indulged in multiple beers at Tai Kwun’s Armoury, a half-indoor/half-outdoor bar overlooking one of the complex’s most atmospheric open spaces: the parade ground. The Armoury is quickly become one of my new go-to post-work happy hour spots, and the place that’s most helping me stick to my mid-year resolution, thanks to my frequent visits. I’m really glad the rain help up long enough for Motez and I to savor a few pints there.

Other entertaining stretches of hours were spent in Happy Valley, SoHo, Lan Kwai and Wan Chai, including one evening that kept us out until 7:30 the next morning—and involved stops in all the neighborhoods just mentioned! So, you see, I wasn’t exaggerating when I labeled Motez’s visit a “memorable whale of a weekend.” But, really, the whole month has had its fair share of highlights.

Even last night was about as great a Tuesday as you can expect in May. A Burmese pop-up restaurant called Pansodan recently opened for a three-month stint in Sai Ying Pun. Of course, I sent out a general alarm to my Burma travel buddies, Derek and CriCri. And we all met up to over-indulge in the gluttonous tasting menu last night.

Make no mistake; the food was delicious. But reminiscing with those two over our shared memories of that trip back in 2016 even overtook the cuisine for me. Under normal circumstances, a wonderful waitress like we had last night, Rupa, and a table candle that unexpectedly exploded mid-meal, would be the most unforgettable moments in a dinner.

But when you’re with Derek and CriCri, munching on tea leaf salad and si chat khauk swe, reflecting over the exotic destinations of Rangoon, Bagan and Inle Lake, the cream rises to the top. Oh, how I long to go back!

Well, in spite of the rain that’s still steadily falling outside my window, I’m about to head down to the track for the last of the three “French May” race nights that have been run this month. Sadly, once I’ve returned from my trip to the States, there remain only three mid-week meetings before the summer hiatus. So even if I get a little wet, I’ve still got to take advantage. Wish me luck, and here’s hoping the summer has lots of sunshine in store! After what we've put up during the month of May, we’ve earned it!

April Foolery

As April draws to a most spectacular close and May arrives with a public holiday tomorrow, I can't help but look back over the past thirty days with anything other than astonishment. I'll risk repeating myself, because I feel like I have a tendency to stay things like this over and over and over again, but the month that's about to expire was without doubt one of the most jam-packed races I've ever run.

From Rugby Sevens to visits from old friends, from Easter Sunday to Tin Hau's Birthday, from Cadbury Creme Eggs to Peking duck, April 2019 has been one long celebratory, gluttonous, sleepless, boozy adventure.

The highlights are seemingly endless, so I guess it makes sense to pause for a moment as the month is about to end, to preserve a few of the best for posterity.

Two senior directors of my company, Gabby and Mike, permanently based in England, quickly passed through Hong Kong for only one full day on Tuesday, 2 April, the day after the closing screening of the Hong Kong International Film Festival. Although we speak often, it was undeniably great to get some facetime with them, especially since they graciously treated me (and the rest of our Hong Kong-based team) to both lunch and dinner that day.

Lunch was at Café TOO in the Island Shangri-la, which gets my vote for Hong Kong’s best buffet. And dinner followed at Peking Garden in Alexandra House, one of my ‘go to’ spots for Peking duck when VIPs are visiting from out-of-town.

It was surely not a day for calorie counting. As my colleagues Cherry, Jenny and I walked back to the office after lunch, we were all full to capacity! And as Cherry and I got ready to head to dinner after work, we both kept remarking that not only were we not yet hungry, we were actually still uncomfortably full from lunch!

Of course, once the wine started flowing and the scrumptious Chinese dishes began to arrive, we both found our appetites. And it was a stellar evening, with fantastic food and company.

Like that, Sevens Fever was in the air, and people had started pouring into Hong Kong from overseas for our signature sporting event, set to take place between Friday and Sunday. Among the visitors were Sonia, Motez, and Silja Boy, in addition to friends of these guys who were accompanying them for the festivities, Rossi, Jorg and Nele!

So after a stellar catch-up with one of my insurance contacts at the Chinnery in the Mandarin Oriental, I met my crew in Wan Chai to get our Sevens celebration off to a good start.

We had a big day planned for Thursday, complete with a junk trip to Clearwater Bay, so we opted to keep Wednesday evening relatively low key. But a few drinks with these guys is always in order, and it was so great to prep for the city’s biggest weekend with the gang!

Although the weather wasn’t perfect, there’s no sense complaining about a little junk trip. And Fredric got to tag along, making the whole experience even more special. It’s always a thrilling experience sailing past the impressive skyline of Hong Kong Island before it fades into the distance and the green hills and rocky outcrops of the New Territories come to dominate the landscape.

With new, first-time visitors to the city, a little sightseeing was obviously in order on Friday. It was a beautiful day, much more appropriate for a junk than Thursday had been, but that means that our romp up Victoria Peak and our waterfront beers in Stanley were about as perfect as could be.

And then the Rugby kicked off! Sonia’s big brother Kareem, his buddy Philipp and I left the rest of the group in Stanley and caught a taxi back to Happy Valley, eventually making our way to Hong Kong Stadium. Sitting with Kareem’s parents, Martin and Mongia—also in town for the event—was wonderful.

After the day’s matches were finished, we headed to the cooked food center in Happy Valley for a delicious local dinner before turning in early. It was Sevens Saturday the next morning, so you know big things were in store!

The group costume idea suggested several weeks back was to go as Where’s Waldo (or Where Wally, in British parlance). So we donned our red-and-white striped shirts, horn-rimmed glasses and jorts, headed up to my Happy Valley rooftop for a champagne “breakfast” —I put the word in quotes because no food was actually consumed—and excitedly prepared for the big day.

We easily traipsed straight into the South Stand and secured a prime spot for our group. Saturday in the South Stand is a phenomenon the likes of which I’ve never experienced anywhere else on earth. You arrive around 8am and leave around 5pm, but somehow the hours in between just blur together into one giant jumble. There are literally thousands of people dressed up in all sorts of costumes, and the loudspeakers blare the same dozen or so tunes over and over again, while the entire crowd sings along, drowning out the recordings.

All the while, rugby is taking place on the pitch, but for the most part, the South Stand revelers have their attention fixed elsewhere, except if Hong Kong or England are playing. You’re more concerned with complimenting an eye-catching disguise, or cheers-ing to a long-lost friend, or making a paper airplane. It’s a crazy, one-of-a-kind day.

I had started early this year, and partied hard, so I didn’t make it out after the conclusion of the day’s games. I’d like to say it was a conscious decision to turn in early, so as to make the most of Sunday. But I really shouldn’t lie.

After two separate breakfasts on Sunday—first with Kareem and Philipp at the newly opened Wagyu Lounge a few steps my front door, and then with Sonia, Motez, Silja, Rossi, Jorg and Nele, a little further down the hill, at the classic Happy Valley Bar and Grill—I had to make up my mind on my day’s agenda. Having thoroughly enjoyed my Friday and Saturday at the stadium, I was actually content to skip the final day’s matches and just relax. But Sonia convinced me I should attend, so I stuck with the group. 

Somehow, they also convinced me we should enter the South Stand again, even though I had suggested spending the day watching the final games from the much better vantage point of the upper tiers of the East or West Stand. And en route from the entry to the Stand, I bumped into Matt and Ana, who also tagged along. 

Far more civilized than its Saturday counterpart, Sevens Sunday—even in the South Stand—is much more rugby-focused. We watched almost all of the matches that afternoon, and though it was complimented with ample cold Carlsberg for good measure, the sportsmanship of the athletes on display always seems to trump the debauchery of your fellow revelers as the last games approach.

After Fiji emerged victorious in the final, the iconic closing fireworks shot off overhead, bringing this year’s event to a close. What a day it had been! And what a weekend!

In fact, I was ready to rank this year’s Rugby Sevens as one of the best of the nine I’ve attended since 2011. I couldn’t believe I had almost skipped out on the Sunday session! It had turned into such a great day with all my friends, encounters planned and unplanned alike, and nothing, I thought, could dampen my spirits. As I exited Hong Kong Stadium, however, disaster struck.

Hundreds of metal barricades are deployed over Sevens weekend, to aide in crowd flow. But stupid me—the ultimate  April fool—decided that walking an extra twenty feet  out of my way to simply get around a barrier and head back in the same direction was laboriously inefficient. Surely it would be a better idea to hop over said barrier and continue unabated on my path.

Nothing surprising here. I’d guess I do something similar a couple times a week. But the key difference is that when, for example, I hop the barrier in Wan Chai to cross from one side of Lockhart Road to the other, or saunter over the fence in Admiralty when I alight from the tram at Pacific Place, it’s a solid hunk of metal permanently fixed into the concrete pavement below.

Whether my judgment was clouded by the electric atmosphere or the mayhem or the Carlsberg, I know not. But what I didn’t take into consideration was that this barrier was freestanding, and, thus, when I grabbed hold of it with my hand and swung my left leg over to surmount the structure, it promptly came crashing down.

Slamming into the sidewalk, I thought it was just a simple mishap. People were looking at me, so I immediately picked myself up, even lifting my hands above my head, offering the crowd a little, “He’s alright, folks.” But then I looked down at my hand. It was cut. And it was cut very badly.

I had separated from the gang already at this point, but some good Samaritans—a couple from California to whom I’m eternally grateful, even though I never got a chance to properly thank them—approached me. They immediately grasped the severity of the situation and helped me navigate my way through the crowds to the first aid officers. It’s all a bit of a blur, but I’d say in about three to five minutes’ time, I was seated in the back of an ambulance, which whisked me to Ruttonjee Hospital in Wan Chai.

About three hours and nine stitches later, I was home. The whole ordeal, including the ambulance ride, x-rays, a tetanus booster, stitches, dressings and medications, cost me HKD 180, or USD 23. In close to ten years, it was my first trip to a Hong Kong hospital (apart from visiting friends), and I was floored by the professionalism, high quality care and unbelievably low price tag. 

I worked from home on Monday and Tuesday, indulging in delivery from Pizza Hut to perk me up. I didn’t have much time to dwell on my condition, however, because just after noon on Wednesday, my old buddy Logan arrived in Hong Kong for a three day stay with his fiancé Patrick.

Logan, two years behind me at Villanova before he transferred to Michigan his sophomore year, was also a member of Singers. Shockingly, one of the first things he pointed out upon our reunion was that it’s been nearly a decade since we last saw each other!

With the middle finger of my left hand carefully bandaged, I resumed tour guide duties for my new visitors. And I must say, it was a great way to take my mind off my injury.

One of the main objectives of Logan and Patrick’s too short stay in the Pearl of the Orient was to get some suits made over at Sam’s Tailor in Tsim Sha Tsui. Eyeing their relatively compact luggage, I suggested we hop straight on the Star Ferry to cross the harbor. They agreed.

We chatted with a friendly member of the Sam’s staff, named Love, picking out fabrics and designs. And in the end, both Logan and Patrick wound up ordering multiple garments, including jackets, full suits, bow ties and even a tuxedo!

We celebrated the successful visit to Sam’s with waterfront burgers and a bottle of white wine in the glorious weather, looking across to Hong Kong Island from a waterfront table at BLT in Harbour City.  

Back on the Star Ferry, we crossed the harbor again, this time over to Wan Chai, where I walked the guys to their hotel so they could check in and freshen up. I met them back there again about an hour and a half later, took them over to my place for a rooftop drink and then hit up Happy Valley Racecourse for the rest of the night. Kareem—still in town from the Sevens—and Matt were also about, making for a fun and atmospheric evening. 

                                                                          

                         

But jet lag and a few nights’ worth of poor sleeping had caught up with Patrick and Logan, who had been in Beijing and Shanghai before now finishing their Asia trip in Hong Kong, so they actually cut their race meeting a little bit shorter than I had anticipated. Try as I might, I couldn’t convince them to come to Wan Chai for a drink. But that didn’t stop me from popping into Saint-Germain with Kareem on my own way home after the last race.

Thursday morning, I had to visit the doctor for a scheduled check-up on my finger. I was the first one in line as soon as the clinic opened, and in about half an hour, I was in and out. My wound was re-dressed, and the nurse told me that it looked like everything was "healing nicely." I'm not sure those are quite the words I would use to describe the situation on the finger. But take a look at the below photo and you tell me. Nicely?

In a very odd and convenient coincidence, Logan and Patrick’s hotel, the Dorsett, just happened to be literally across the street from the outpatient clinic, so I hopped over (get it?) after I had finished to pick them up and kickstart our day.

I introduced them to my favorite local coffeehouse, Happy Alley, and then fetched Fredric from the flat while they waited. And after our morning beverages, we all crammed into a taxi to mount Victoria Peak. Although the weather wasn’t ideal, it was as good a chance as we’d get in the next couple days—according to the weathermen—so it seemed appropriate to stick to the itinerary. And although once you’ve seen the Peak on the clearest of clear days, a hazy view is bound to be a little disappointing, it’s still nothing short of stunning to newbies!

Logan and Patrick took the historic Peak Tram down, but as it doesn’t allow dogs, Freddie and I returned to Happy Valley via taxi. Knowing it would take my guests a little bit longer, we ducked into the little pet shop around the corner from my apartment so Fredric could play with one of several of his Valley doppelgangers, Lara, who is the “assistant manager” of the charming store.

I reunited with the boys a little bit later, taking them back to Sam’s, by way of tram and MTR. They had their first fittings, getting a chance to inspect their fabrics and cuts, while I enjoyed a cold beer during my wait. (There is free flow beer included in most tailors’ suit making packages!)

We wandered up Nathan Road afterwards, on my own Kowloon walking tour that I’ve perfected over the past year. We stopped for egg waffles at a little place on Nathan Road, before ducking into the Jade Market—where I unexpectedly bought a pair of what Logan deemed “blue dragon dogs”—and plopping down in the very retro Mido Café in Yau Ma Tei.

More food was obviously in the cards, so in addition to some cold Tsing Tao, we got a bo lo yau (pineapple bun with butter) and two helpings of Hong Kong-style French Toast. (We had only gotten one to start, but after we wolfed it down in seconds, we opted for a supplemental order. Our group makes good decisions.)

From here, we checked off nearly all of the Kowloon markets: first Temple Street, then Ladies Market, then the Goldfish Market, then the Flower Market and, finally, the Yuen Po Street Bird Garden, which seemed just on the cusp of closing for the day when we passed through the gate.

Having walked all the way from TST to Prince Edward over the past several hours, we now retraced that path via MTR, getting to the Avenue of Stars with not a moment to spare, as the nightly Symphony of Lights began.

I think I mentioned this in a previous post, but about eighteen months ago, the Hong Kong Tourism Board completely revamped the lightshow. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “revamped,” I take it to mean “improved.” In my (very humble) opinion, what the HKTB has done to the light show has not improved it, but simply shortened it.

They added new music but cut the running time from twelve minutes to a mere eight. So I told Logan and Patrick that their review of the event would influence my decision on whether or not to include it on future itineraries. I’m happy to report they both said they liked it, so it will be retained for my next visitor(s)—whoever he or she (or they) may be!

As you probably know by now, when friends are in town, I normally try to organize at least one communal Chinese feast. I’ve already lamented the closure of my perennial favorite for this event, American Peking over in Wan Chai. But I have a few contenders that, while not perfect replacements, still hold their own in that regard. Spring Deer was the spot I picked for our dinner that evening, only a few minutes’ walk from the Avenue of Stars and a delightful, noisy, welcoming venue it is!

Kareem came, of course, as did Matt, Ana and my buddy James. And we had plenty of great dishes that night, especially the phenomenal Peking duck, all washed down with Tsing Tao and a bit of Logan’s favorite tipple, white wine.

After dinner, we caught the MTR home, and try thought I did, I just couldn’t convince either Logan or Patrick to join me for a nightcap. Such is life.

Friday, I found a way to squeeze in breakfast at the Wong Nai Chung Cooked Food Centre across the road from my flat in Happy Valley. They had sold out of pineapple buns by the time we arrived, but we consoled ourselves with four orders of French toast to split among the three of us, plus other goodies.

We then hopped on the tram, where I took my guests on Paul’s Signature Wan Chai Walking Tour, which I really ought to patent. Due to a work meeting, I had to cut it slightly short, but I’m sure Logan and Patrick didn’t mind, as they used their free time to go for massages.

Reunited, I took them back to Sam’s for their final fitting, and I must say, their suits looked amazingly sharp. There were a few small alterations required, which meant they wouldn’t be done in time to take home with them. But the friendly team at Sam’s assured they could arrange complimentary shipping to their address in Atlanta!

Back on Hong Kong Island, we stopped for a libation at Divino Patio, where we laid plans for Friday night, the boys’ last evening in town. We walked back to the Dorsett afterwards, where the objective was simply to give Logan and Patrick some time to change before we headed out.

But…. There was something crazy happening. Apparently Friday night madness is a regular fixture of the hotel, with free alcohol and live music on offer in the lobby. It was so unexpected, and so entertaining, that we wound up lingering far longer than originally intended.

There’s a small restaurant tucked on a quiet stretch of Graham Street called Tuk Tuk Thai, which I absolutely love. It’s reasonably priced and appropriately delicious, without any pretention or fuss. I’ve never walked away disappointed, so it seemed like a good spot for a final dinner.

And afterwards, we hit up some of my favorite watering holes in SoHo and LKF, before I ended up alone… again… after the boys decided to turn in but I was not yet ready to call it a night.

There was little to do Saturday morning except squeeze in the obligatory dim sum session, at Lin Heung Tea House, naturally. In the boisterous (and always memorable) dining hall, I taught Logan and Patrick how to ensure they got their hands on the choicest morsels in the joint. And, as usual, nobody left hungry. We headed straight to the Airport Express afterwards, as my guests left and my attention returned, albeit briefly, to my aching finger.

My buddy Myles convinced me to join him for Shake Shack and a movie on Palm Sunday, the spiritual Breakthrough starring Chrissy Metz and Topher Grace. And it was perfect timing for me to wander over to Saint John’s afterwards to their very special Tenebrae service, which sees a candelabra all aflame slowly extinguished one at a time, until the congregation is left contemplating in near-total darkness.

It was an appropriate start to Holy Week, but things soon turned maudlin when I awoke Tuesday to the awful news that came in the form of a text message from my dad. “Notre Dame on fire,” he wrote. “Does not look good.” It was one of those rare instances where I opened my eyes and was immediately wide awake, without any trace of fatigue. I ran straight to the living room and flipped on France 24, and sat in front of the television weeping.

I bought two bottles of French wine that night and watched Amelie while munching some cheese. And I pulled out an old shoebox full of relics from my semester abroad in Paris: coasters, business cards, receipts from restaurants, ticket stubs, a few photos. All my memories from one of the most foundational stretches of my life. What special places… France, Paris, Notre Dame. I even found the pew bulletin from the Good Friday service my mother, sister and I attended at the cathedral in 2007. All my prayers to a speedy rebuilding.

I also bought twenty-four Cadbury Crème Eggs, the taste of Easter, to help cheer myself up. And Wednesday, I was back at the races… again.

After drinks with a client in Pacific Place on Maundy Thursday, I returned to Saint John’s for another very special church service commemorating the Last Supper, including the Washing of the Feet, where the priest cleans the soles of selected members of the congregation to recall Jesus’ actions towards his disciples at his final meal.

And I was back again on Good Friday for another moving celebration of one of the most holy days of the year, which included some precipitation for us here in Hong Kong.

Being a Friday during Lent, I was abstaining from meat, and, being Good Friday, I was also fasting, which means partaking in only one meal throughout the day. And I had to save it up for dinner, because Jay had organized a group feast (luckily at a seafood hotspot) because her good friend Fiona was visiting from Australia.

We all met up at Fini in Wan Chai before taxiing to Tung Po over in North Point, where we reveled in the crazy atmosphere and chowed down on some incredible dishes. Things finished up in Lan Kwai Fong at Geronimo, so, in all, it was a memorable Good Friday.

Owing to the monster of a night, I laid low at first on Holy Saturday. In fact, I woke up to such dark skies after having not set an alarm, that I thought it might be as late as 7pm. I looked at my iPhone, which instead displayed a time of 2pm, but I was incredulous. So I checked my second phone, a new Blackberry KeyOne, as well, which confirmed it really was 2pm. As I’m sure you can guess, a massive rainstorm was headed out way.

Once it had passed, I made a beeline for the nearby McDonald’s, which helped to restore me somewhat to my usual self. Margaritas with Myles at Tequila Jack’s took it one step further, and by the time we got to dinner at Spring Deer (yes, again, since Jay also wanted Fi to get to experience the place), I was ready. In the end, we stayed out in Lan Kwai until 2am, which was a minor miracle considering the way I felt when I had woken up.

In spite of two late nights, I still made it to 9am Easter Sunday service, bright and early. And then it was off to Kowloon for a spicy Sichuan lunch at Qi Nine Dragons, with my dear friends Lou and Kathy, who also had guests from overseas. The weather wasn't quite as clear as I would have liked, but we still gamely popped up to Qi's rooftop to take in the view of the skyline and harbor. 

We took a lovely long wander around Tsim Sha Tsui afterwards, ducking into the tony Peninsula, sampling local delicacies like egg tarts and pineapple buns from favorite spots, a wander along the Avenue of Stars and, finally, a ferry ride back to Central, where I parted with with Lou, Kathy and Company.

I met Max and Celine at Thai Wan, a casual but popular bar in Wan Chai for a few quick catch-up drinks, which was mercifully near to the dinner venue Jay had selected for Fi’s final night in Hong Kong, an amazing hotpot spot called Xiao Yu. You know, it’s a funny thing… I didn’t use to like hotpot, but now I’m practically an addict. What I realized is that I’d mostly sampled cheap, all you can eat varieties with low quality meat and ingredients. Now that I’ve discovered top-of-the-line spots like Xiao Yu, I’m trying to make up for lost time!

We finished up our Easter Sunday with some live music at the Wanch, always a fun spot regardless of how quiet the rest of its neighbors might seem to be. I was reminded that, apart from having my own guests in town, there are no better times than when my friends have visitors that inspire them to organize such delightful communal events, really reinforcing what a wonderfully social city Hong Kong can be.

Glorious weather came at last on Monday! And, fortuitously, I think I’ve mentioned before that Hong Kong extends Easter break to include the day after the holiday itself, so the next morning, I headed up to Sha Tin Racecourse with Matt and Ana, and—of course—a visit to Shatin Inn featured in our day after the last race had been run.

As the beautiful temperature and skies continued on Tuesday, it was inevitably time to return to work. But the bright spot was my first post-Lent coffee… You see, I perennially forego my morning java between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. However, owing to my first trip to Saigon last month, I granted myself a forty-eight-hour respite to fully explore the glories of one of Vietnam’s most famous products. The deal I struck with my conscience was that I’d wait until two days after Easter before indulging again.

Jumping right back into professional life, I had a meeting in Hung Hom, Kowloon, on Wednesday afternoon. Of course, I could have taken a train or even a taxi to the office, but I almost always opt to hop on the ferry. Unless you’re really in a rush, this is the way to go, with beautiful views and a balmy breeze a-blowing. There’s no better way to remind oneself that, when the good weather has arrived, Hong Kong is quite simply one of the most mesmerizing cityscapes on earth.

Of course, once the weather perks up, the crowds return to Happy Valley on Wednesday evenings as well. Though I’d never say the racetrack feels empty, there’s a palpable, frenetic energy that is unmistakable when the masses make their reappearance, as they did that night. 

And I’ve made good friends with Orna, the charming Chicago native who is responsible for running the Jockey Club’s “Happy Wednesday” promotion, so much so that she gave me eight free beer coupons when I went up to say hello to her that night!

Oh, I have some fairly big news! I am getting a new roommate next week. Antoine has moved to New York to be closer to his daughters, but before he left, he mentioned that our mutual acquaintance Simon, who manages the French restaurant around the corner from the flat— called Saint-Germain—might be interested in renting his old room. I’ve known Simon casually for over a year now, and I think it will be a good partnership.

We finalized our plan about his move-in last Thursday at the Armoury in Tai Kwun, which is really just an amazing spot (with an amazing happy hour deal). Set on the old parade grounds, with a flowering mango tree spreading out in front of the porch, the bar exudes colonial glamor and it fast becoming my new go-to spot.

I’ll be honest, when I made my “mid-year resolution” to spend more time in Tai Kwun, my intention was to take advantage of all the cultural events that take place throughout the massive compound. But now, I have a feeling my most frequent visits will be for a post-work beer in the happening courtyard!

After Simon headed off, I called my friend Yvonne on a lark, to see if she was in the area and might want to grab a drink or dinner. Turns out, she was meeting friends around the corner in a little while to go for Nepalese food in Lan Kwai Fong, and asked me if I wanted to join. Can you guess my response? The momos were amazing and trusty Yvonne even smuggled her own mini-bottles of white in, leaving me one for my wine-soaked tram ride back to Happy Valley afterwards.

I know it was only a short stretch of days in the office, but after the four-day Easter weekend, I was itching for more free time. I mean, I was enjoying Hong Kong life so much and there was a lot on the agenda for the final weekend of the month. So it was with great excitement that I headed out on Friday evening.

Kathy had invited me to join her and her family on a private junk to Joss House Bay to celebrate Tin Hau’s birthday. But first, I got a random message from Chun right before leaving work, asking if I wanted to join for a Sichuan dinner. I can’t say no to that. I never have and I never will.

Afterwards, I hopped the Star Ferry to TST and boarded the boat for a spectacularly superior night. Tin Hau, sometimes also known as Mazu, is perhaps the most prominent Chinese sea goddess, at least in Hong Kong. She is deified as the protectress of fishermen and seafarers, and there are over one hundred temples dedicated to her throughout the SAR. Well, the oldest, apparently largest Tin Hau temple in Hong Kong—dating to 1266—is naturally the spot for the largest celebrations on her annual festival.

And, surprise! My old friend Pierre was there, too! He was back in Hong Kong for work and had reached out to Kathy and Lou. I haven’t seen him since 2015, and somehow the news that he now has a baby girl never made it to me! It was, needless to say, great to catch up on all that had happened in his life over the past few years.

We boarded the boat and soon set sail, with plentiful booze to see us on our way. Perhaps most the memorable aspect of the outward journey was a particular tradition that sees fake money offered to the gods. On the squally upper deck of the junk, we all tossed slips of paper into the night sky, where it caught the wings of the wind and glided in every direction, unavoidably winding up in the sea. I must confess, it felt a little negligent to pollute the harbor, but Kathy told me this was to feed the hungry sea ghosts and dragons who might cause trouble if we didn't appease them. She emphasized that it's a once-a-year tradition and it would be disrespectful of me not to participate.

Once we got off the boat in Joss House Bay, the atmosphere was electric! Candles burning, incense wafting across the night breeze, bangs and clangs of drums and cymbals. Kathy and her sisters Karrie and Karan walked around with Pierre and me, explaining certain customs and telling stories about the celebration.

I am so fortunate to have friends like Kathy and her family, who are proud to share their local heritage with expats like me who have selected Hong Kong as our adopted hometown. They are so generous, and the more time I spend with them, I deeper my connection with this place gets.

Of course, Lou, Pierre and I hit up Wan Chai after alighting in Central. And I even wound up walking all the way back to Happy Valley after our last drinks. Oh, what a Friday!

I really needed to set some time aside Saturday to tidy the flat and do a deep clean before Simon moves in. It’s a rare opportunity between roommates to get rid of stuff. I realized there are plenty of things I always assumed were Antoine’s, and, thus, didn’t want to throw away. I guess he similarly thought these items were mine, and also never touched them. So they’ve just wound up cluttering the common areas of my apartment. I marked the resurfacing of newly sparkling living space with screenings of All About Eve and Atlantic City.

On Sunday, for the third time in less than a week, I was back at a racetrack, Sha Tin again. But it was a far cry from my previous visit to the crowded public area. Kathy’s dad is actually a racehorse owner, so when his prized Thoroughbred, Glorious Forever, is running, the family reserves a private dining room in the member’s area.

Kathy had asked me a few days earlier if I was interested in joining for the upcoming meeting… And I bet you can guess my response.

Now, I’ve been fortunate on occasions in the past to enter the fashionable “member’s area” of Sha Tin. But I’ve never had an opportunity to venture into the even more exclusive “owner’s box.” What a feeling!

Unfortunately, Glorious Forever came in fourth in his race. But it was an undeniably novel experience to be standing right at the finish line as the horses barreled past. And, surprisingly to me, even fourth place finishers receive a cash prize, so Kathy’s dad splurged on a bottle of champagne to celebrate, splitting it with all his guests.

Yes, so much happened over the past few weeks that it’s really taken the focus off that ugly scar that’s replaced the cut on my finger. And in spite of that, em—small?—mishap, April 2019 has been a rip-roaring success, with visits from friends from overseas, plenty of good food, and several noteworthy cultural experiences. Here’s hoping that as summer arrives with May in the coming hours, my Hong Kong life continues on its exciting course!