Five Years of Fredric

Today is a major milestone for me and my beloved pooch, as it marks the fifth anniversary of that fateful day I brought Fredric home to Happy Valley, where we have lived happily ever since. I don't think I have to tell you, but adopting a dog was easily among the greatest decisions of my adult life. 

Fredric has injected so much joy into every minute we spend together, and I really love the darn mutt more than any amount of words could ever express. And so I wanted to do a little something special to mark this date. 

This morning, after a late wake-up thanks to a bit of bar hopping last night, we headed over to the Race Course Fire Memorial near Hong Kong Stadium, where he loves to play. But the real fun began an hour or so later, when we hopped in a taxi to Stanley.

You probably remember that I was down in Stanley for the Tuen Ng Festival dragon boat races, which fell on a Saturday in 2015, when I first met the dog who would become Fredric at the local SPCA. His name was Hank at the time, but our initial moments playing on the floor of the shelter all but convinced me he was the Fredric I'd been searching for. (I mean, seriously... look how cute—and tiny—he was!)

Since the SPCA makes you "sleep on it" for a night before committing, in order to prevent impulse adoptions, I had to return the next day—like this year, also a Sunday, also, coincidentally, Father's Day—to confirm my decision. 

And, so, it's fallen into a pretty standard tradition that when the timing is right, I try to bring Fredric back to his ancestral family roots whenever this anniversary rolls around. And even though it's now a surf shop, I ensure we pay at least a quick visit to the former SPCA where Fredric and I first met. 

We had lunch today at the Boathouse, a charming restaurant set in an old colonial house situated on the waterfront promenade, its pastel yellow façade perhaps the only attractive architecture along the whole stretch, until you finally come to historic Murray House. 

I feasted on mussels, clams and shrimp in a delectable garlic and white wine cream sauce, all washed down with a crisp draught beer, while the heavenly sea view danced off in the distance. The waiters were friendly, and the weather couldn't have been better! In short, a perfect seaside lunch. 

There was even a pretty lackluster solar eclipse that found its way into the afternoon, which apparently saw the moon taking over eighty percent of the sun just after four o'clock. I was excited when I learned it was about to occur, and gamely looked up to the sky when the event was meant to be nearing its apex.

Alas, to be honest, I couldn't really make out too much of a difference from how the sun normally seems on a glorious midsummer afternoon. But it was still cool knowing this was a pretty rare occurrence.

Fredric and I headed for the sands afterwards, where we made friends with chatty Ash and his dog Abby, plus a few other beach-goers who came across our paths. Fredric isn't a big fan of swimming—in fact, he won't really even get too close to the surf—but, boy, does he love the sand!

He spent a silly amount of time this afternoon digging and rolling and lying in it. And I loved seeing him so obviously overjoyed.

Needless to say, after a spot of market shopping, I squeezed in one final beer at the Pickled Pelican, the pub just next door to the Boathouse—blessed with an equally ethereal view of the ocean, Murray House and Blake Pier—as night descended upon the scene. 

Back home, I ordered a pizza and switched on my DVD of Design for Living, the classic 1933 Ernst Lubitsch comedy starring my pooch's dapper namesake, Fredric March, in addition to Gary Cooper and a scintillating Miriam Hopkins.

It's the movie we watched that very first night together back in 2015, and I even pulled out the old empty bottle of dessert wine I had sipped as we enjoyed our first bonding session on the couch. (Of course I saved it. Are you really surprised?)

What a wild run it's been over these past five years, and I look forward to many more memories with my dear little mongrel. Cheers to half a decade, buddy! Thanks for being such a wonderful, loving bundle of boundless energy.

Weekend at the Pen

Greetings from the grande old dame of Hong Kong. 

That's right. I spent this past weekend at the storied Peninsula Hotel over in Kowloon, a little staycation I planned to counter the frustrations of having had to cancel no fewer than six anticipated holidays (so far) and wanting to indulge in a little splurge to make a pitcher of lemonade out of this new variety of COVID lemons. 

Truth be told, I've longed to spend a night in the Pen for over a decade, since I first learned of her existence. One of my very first weekends in Hong Kong, I ducked into the gilt-age lobby for a double espresso after my first manic exploration of Kowloon. And ever since then, I've been a frequent caller, whether for afternoon tea, a visit to the bars, a wander through the lobby and even extravagant lunches or dinners at some of her swanky restaurants. But being a full-fledged guest had always eluded me. Well, until Saturday, that is.

As one of the world's most famous hotels, the Peninsula counts on a steady stream of well-heeled, deep-pocketed tourists flowing through Hong Kong to keep her well-tended marble polished. Well, as you can imagine, with all that's happened of late, first with the Hong Kong protests that began last June and compounded by the coronavirus, the number of foreign visitors making their way to Hong Kong had slowly diminished and finally stopped altogether when the government banned any non-residents from entering the city in March. All hotels, really, not just this one, had a crisis on their hands, and managers have resorted to crafting enticing staycation packages to lure locals to their lodgings. 

It's been a couple of months now I've been toying with the idea. I've looked at the Mandarin Oriental, and the Four Seasons. I priced up the Ritz-Carlton and even the new Rosewood. I even considered the Tai O Heritage Hotel over on Lantau and the Warwick on Cheung Chau. But there was always a front-runner in my mind. 

And, I mean, how could the Pen not have won out? The deal was downright fantastic. From a Rolls Royce pick-up to daily breakfast in the lobby, from a HKD 500 credit during your stay to an additional HKD 500 credit for future use offered upon departure, to flexible check in and check out times to the ability to select from a unique series of curated experiences, I know I'll treasure the memories of this mid-June reverie for a lifetime.

As I sit here now getting ready to check out, gazing from my twenty-fifth floor window towards the Kowloon hills, I am just so darn satisfied with how the past fifty-one hours have gone. I've really felt like I have been on vacation, which is something I've missed since my return from Thailand back in late February. 

The Pen welcomed its first guests in 1928, and since it's opening, the likes of Charles Chaplin, Noel Coward and Frank Sinatra have been among its most illustrious visitors. Coward even brushed up the manuscript of his classic comedy Private Lives in the hotel, after having completed the first draft at the Cathay Hotel (now called the Peace Hotel) on the Bund in Shanghai. 

My Peninsula adventures began a little before nine on Saturday when—while walking Fredric home after his morning jaunt—I spotted an enormous Rolls Royce stopped at the traffic light on Sing Wood Road.

I knew it was my ride, and excitedly dragged the little guy home, finished packing and rushed down the stairs again to step inside. It was a huge boat of an automobile, easily the most spacious I've ever been inside. And although it was only a short experience—the chauffeur closed the car door at 8:52am before whisking me off on the journey and the doormen at the hotel opened it again to escort me inside at 9:09am—it made for an immaculate first impression. 

And from those very first moments on, every instant of this experience has been flawless. 

Check-in was swift, and took place in my room on the twenty-fifth floor of the tower, looking towards the Kowloon hills. Yes, a harbor view would have been nice, but I'm actually just as thrilled with my airy panorama of the bustling peninsula from which the hotel has taken its famous name. And if I sit right up on the window-ledge, I actually can see the harbor to both the left and the right. No amount of panos on my iPhone has fully captured to grandeur of the scene, but that hasn't stopped me from trying. 

And my room is luxe... From the high tech tablets from which you control lighting, temperature, privacy settings, the television screens and even the window curtains, to the impossibly comfortable bed, to the complimentary coffees and teas, the design and amenities are all you'd dream they could be. 

Upon settling into my room, and after a little obligatory exploration of the new digs, my first major act was to shower and change into presentable attire to indulge in a gluttonous lunch at Michelin-starred Gaddi's, said to be Hong Kong first fine dining establishment, opening all the way back in 1953. When I reserved my room a little over a week ago, Gaddi's was unfortunately fully-booked for Saturday lunch. But I put my name on the waiting list and was absolutely over-the-moon when I got a call the other day that a spot had opened up.

"Are you still interested in dining with us?" someone on the other end of the line inquired. 

"Absolutely," was my immediate reply. “You’ve just made my day.”

This was only my second time at Gaddi's, because it's a real special occasion kind of a place. But if spending a weekend at the Pen isn't a special enough occasion to warrant visit number two, I don't know what could be. And there's a set lunch deal of phenomenal value, with four courses plus an amuse-bouche to start and petit-fours and coffee to finish. 

And I veritably feasted that afternoon. After the sweet corn amuse-bouche, I had a burrata, broccoli and octopus panna cotta for my first appetizer, a Brittany langoustine ravioli with coconut and lemongrass foam for my second appetizer, and an incredibly presented cut of Scottish salmon with mango salsa and pepper sauce for my main. 

For dessert, I selected the Honeycomb, an impeccable slice of home cooked banana bread hidden beneath a luscious covering of ginger and honey cream. And with the impeccable service (every member of staff addressed me as Mr. Parisi from the moment I arrived until my departure) and the divine setting, I was in seventh heaven. 

Each course was perfect, and I'll be dreaming about that meal for a long time. I hope I have a sufficient reason to return to Gaddi's soon. 

Post-lunch, I brought my book to the sundeck, where I soaked up an hour or so's worth of rays before the Typhoon Three Signal was officially hoisted by the Hong Kong Observatory. As a precaution, the hotel shuts the outdoor space for safety's sake when the Observatory takes such action, so I didn't have much of a choice but to return inside. 

But down in the Peninsula Arcade adjoining the lobby, there's a camera shop-cum-photo space called F22, where they have some classic Leica specimens on display, plus a current series of Bob Willoughby portraits of Audrey Hepburn, which helped kill a nice half hour or so until the rooftop bar, Felix, was slated to open.

And what a rooftop it is! 

Felix opened when the tower extension was completed back in 1994, designed by French avant-garde master Philippe Starck, who somehow convinced the owners of the otherwise conservative hotel that his wiggy style would be a good fit for the new showstopping space nestled a few floors beneath the twin helipads that crown the rooftop. 

Would you believe that in spite of its heavenly view over Kowloon to one side and Victoria Harbour to the other, that the view is secondary to the decor? Well, it is...

There are twin snail-like structures hiding private dining rooms and mini-bars, there's a huge interior dining room where every seat's back is covered with the face of many of the hotel's longest-serving staff members, and the men's room is justifiably famous for the placement of its three urinals, whose users have unparalleled views towards the Kowloon hills as they, um, use the facilities. 

I perched myself at the harbormost seat at the long marble bar, where I quickly struck up a conversation with Taki, one of the three resident mixologists. She whipped up cocktail after delectable cocktail for me, making liberal use of intriguing ingredients, like champagne foam, truffle oil and unique bitters. And she took great relish in explaining the combination of flavors in each glass. 

I also had a great chat with the affable general manager, Leo, who implored me to become a more regular visitor, even if I'm probably not going to splurge on booking a room again any time soon. As if I needed any further convincing, a picture perfect rainbow appeared over Wan Chai as I sipped and chatted away. 

But the surprise of the night came when I felt a discreet tap on my shoulder, followed by a "Hello, Stranger." It was Christina and her boyfriend, Matt, who, in anticipation of her birthday (which happens to be today) had planned a little staycation of their own. 

We had a round of cocktails together, and it was so good to catch up. Of course, we had to document the sheer improbability of the encounter with a quick photo shoot. They had a celebratory dinner planned in the nearby dining room, and I had some plans of my own, so we went our separate ways. But it was such a sweet little moment, half an hour at the most, that I'll never forget it. 

The plans of my own that I just referred to made for possibly the least social Saturday evening of my adult life. But Private Lives is perhaps my favorite comedic play ever, and the 1931 film adaptation starring Norma Shearer and Robert Montgomery has a high place on my list of top movies.

So, of course, I couldn't resist the temptation to bring a long my DVD copy and pop it in the player, content to savor a private screening in the secluded luxury of my room.

But Saturday, as great as it had been, was just a prelude to Sunday, one of the fullest, most fun days of my adult life. And one I'll remember for ever and always.

It started early with a dip in the Peninsula's swimming pool, which was pretty quiet at that hour. Perched on the hotel's eighth floor, the indoor space is so light and airy, with floor to ceiling windows facing Victoria Harbour, that it almost feels like you're outside. With Roman flourishes like be-freized columns and discreet jazz melodies that can only be heard when underwater, the pool is as tony as you'd expect at such a hotel.

One of the nicest features of this staycation deal was that it included breakfast for two each morning, which you had the option of having served in the sumptuous lobby, beside the pool or in the glamorous seclusion of your room. I opted for the opulent conspicuousness of the lobby, inviting Danijela to join in the fun. And it was a breakfast to remember.

After taking her around to some of my favorite spots in the hotel that I had discovered during my Saturday snooping, plus a return to the Audrey Hepburn photography exhibit, it was time for a really special treat: a visit to the China Clipper, the private penthouse lounge which normally serves as the disembarkation point for helicopter tours.

You see, as I mentioned, the package I booked also included one of eight specially-designed activities, which ranged from a cooking class in the state of the art kitchens, to a photo shoot in vintage clothing, to a private film screening in what was previously a bar but has since been turned into a ritzy, intimate cinema. And although I must confess it was the movie option that first grabbed my attention, I was ultimately drawn to a guided tour of the China Clipper, which also included a visit to the helipad itself, normally off limits unless you're actually boarding your chopper.

Skyward we rode in the exclusive carpeted elevator, accessed from a hidden corner on the twenty-seventh floor, with express service straight on up to the thirtieth, the doors opening with a ding, granting rare access into a world of wonder. Nerd that I am, I even donned a special Pan Am t-shirt I had brought just for the occasion. The reaction of the guide who met us as the doors of the elevator opened was practically immediate. "Great shirt," he remarked.

Boy, was this place, incredible!

For starters, the first thing you realize when you step out of the elevator is that part of the wall is a genuine section of the fuselage of an old Douglas DC-4, which has been incorporated into the design, window and all—looking down on 1881 Heritage, the Star Ferry Pier and all the way across the harbor to Central!

There's also a gleaming chrome propeller embedded into the left side of the wall of the main hallway, while the right half is dominated by a twenty-foot long display case showing off priceless artifacts from the legendary Golden Age of Aviation.

There are old postcards and plane models and letters carried on the first clipper flight, which saw mail delivered from North America to Asia. But I think I was most impressed with the travel case of an American salesman named Al Rabin. You see, Mr. Rabin had a penchant for collecting seals at the various hotels where he stayed during his voyages, and every square inch of leather on this case was covered—layered, really—in vintage travel stickers. It was a sight to behold!

"I would recommend you guys go up to the helipad now. It has stopped raining," one of the attendants told us, "and if it starts up again, you might not get to visit."

So, up we went, for one of the most stunning views of this city I've yet been fortunate to discover in my ten plus years here. And I have to confess, we were damn lucky. The helipad is closed for safety reasons whenever the Hong Kong Observatory hoists the T-3 signal or higher. As you'll remember, they had taken that step the afternoon before, but less than a half hour before our scheduled tour, they dropped it back down to T-1, allowing us to ascend to the very rooftop of the hotel's tower.

It might sound silly, but Danijela and I spent a full half hour drinking in the dreamy view, asking questions of the friendly helipad manager—yes, that was his actual job title—and snapping an endless array of photographs from this fabled perch.

There were a few other participants in the tour, but they didn't seem to have the same level of interest that we did, so before long, they had gone back down to the lounge, leaving Danijela and I to wander about the twin helipads in tranquil, breezy solitude. (Yes, she almost lost that hat on multiple occasions.)

Back downstairs, we began a closer examination of the mini-museum of aviation history that's housed in the China Clipper, with our trusty helipad manager explaining the most noteworthy items. And when he unlocked and opened the display case to remove Mr. Rabin's fragile suitcase to give us a closer look, I relished the opportunity for an intimate inspection.

Still, I could scarcely believe he indulged my request when I asked if I could hold it. "Quick, Danijela," I muttered. "Please take a photograph!"

We were even escorted into the pilot's lounge, a small room lined with local maps and connected via direct radio to Hong Kong International Airport's control tower. At the flick of a switch, we could suddenly hear airplane captains and air traffic specialists requesting and granting permission for take-offs and landings. All from the comfort of the Pen!

Back in the lounge, a small buffet had been set up with complimentary cookies and biscuits, along with a mini-bar consisting of sparkling water, orange juice and ice tea. So we made a few plates, filled a couple of glasses and plopped down on a low black leather couch to milk the experience to its utmost potential.

Ultimately, Danijela had to leave in order to attend to some urgent Sunday work tasks at her office in Kowloon Bay, but I had another friend who was keen to spend part of her weekend in the storied hotel. So not long after Danijela's departure, I welcomed my pal Hana to the opulent lobby, quickly heading up to the pool, showing her the room and taking her around to some other favorite spots in a place I was now starting to feel was like my own house.

And then I had a brilliant idea. Faithful readers of this blog must be aware of my habit of collecting Starbucks mugs on my world travels. Since I brought home that first mug from Cebu in the Philippines on my Chinese New Year trip back in 2011, I'd amassed a whopping twenty-six of the suckers, but never quite liked the idea of adding Hong Kong's to my collection.

I don't know why, but when I look at my shelfful of mugs, there's a special nostalgia of travel memories that invades my brain. Each mug was purchased on a trip in a foreign place, during a friend's wedding or a summer vacation or business travel or even, in some cases, a simple day trip. So something seemed wrong about just popping into a local Starbucks to procure the Hong Kong version and putting it alongside such memories.

But this staycation proved the perfect opportunity to change that.

By this point in the weekend, I really felt like I was on a bona fide vacation. The swankiness of the hotel, the amazing meals and drinks I'd enjoyed over the past twenty-four hours, the exceptionalism of pretty much every aspect of this experience so far... I was having more fun than I'd had on many a holiday. So why—I thought to myself—not?

Hana gamely tagged along as we made our way to the nearby Starbucks on the Avenue of Stars, nestled between statues of Hong Kong icons Anita Mui and Bruce Lee, with a heavenly view across Victoria Harbour towards the towers of the city beyond. And as I sipped that black iced coffee, my new mug by my side, it all felt right. I was glad I had waited for such an opportunity and hadn't cheated it years earlier.

We spent some time in the tony Peninsula Arcade upon our return to the hotel, where Hana tried on a few emerald rings in a ritzy jewel boutique, but we wanted to spend the bulk of our time leading up to dinner by—or in—the pool.

So up we went to the seventh floor, where the spa and health center are situated, from which an internal staircase leads you up one floor to the airy natatorium. Of course, we couldn't resist the opportunity to do a little snooping on seven before ascending to the pool. I'm not a spa connoisseur myself, but the space was subtly elegant and under the right circumstances—i.e. with a little pushing from someone who was keen to indulge—I'm sure I could spend a lovely afternoon here.

But even more, I was taken with the fitness center. Not because of any high-tech exercise machines, of course. Not by a long shot. No, but because the outdoor deck abutting the workout room had what was quite simply the best view, since it is nestled at the front edge of the Peninsula's west wing, meaning it affords a view both across the harbor and also back towards the noble façade of the hotel itself.

A dramatic rain seemed about to arrive, which prevented any further preening on the sun deck, but while Hana lingered in the Jacuzzi, I snagged a window table and ordered a screwdriver. There's a bit of a back story here.

You see, the Peninsula, having opened in 1928, has seen its fair share of legendary guests, Clark Gable being perhaps the most illustrious. When he stopped by the lobby bar during the filming of Prisoner of Fortune in 1955, he asked the young bartender, one Johnny Chung, for a screwdriver. At first, Johnny was confused and started to call down to the maintenance department to ask for a tool.

"No, no," Gable told him. "A screwdriver is a drink."

He then proceeded to teach the young bartender how to prepare one, declaring the end result "delicious." A full sixty-five years later, not only has the screwdriver become the hotel's signature drink, but Johnny Chung—now in his eighties—still reports to work every day, although COVID-19 has seen him minimizing his interaction with guests.

Alas, I guess I'll just have to return again when this is all over to savor a screwdriver prepared by the legendary bartender himself. But sitting poolside with an atmospheric storm rolling in, screwdriver in hand, made for a lovely interlude.

And when I sent Christina a message to see what she and Matt were up to, I successfully coaxed them down for a round or two of drinks themselves. Hana had never met these guys before, and of course, our brief reunion at Felix the night before just wasn't enough for me, so it was great to continue catching up in the leisurely setting. But before long, the dinner gong was about to ring.

Of all the restaurants in the Peninsula, perhaps the most surprising in Chesa, the Swiss chalet-themed eatery on the first floor. Why on earth would Hong Kong's leading hotel have an alpine dining room serving specialties like fondue and raclette? Of course, there's another great story behind it...

When Cathay Pacific began flying direct to Zurich in 1963, the Peninsula opened what was intended to be a temporary addition to the hotel's culinary scene, designed to promote the new air link. When the local population went gaga over the fare on offer, it was decided the restaurant had earned a permanent place on the litany, and Chesa has stood proud ever since.

Now in service for over fifty-five years, the intimate restaurant is one of the best spots in town to transport yourself faraway from Hong Kong. You really feel beamed to a little wooden hut in a high mountain paradise, right down to the in-your-face aromas of melted cheese wafting through the air of the impeccably decorated space.

And, oh, what a meal to remember!

Just like my visits the day before to Gadddi's and Felix, this was, perhaps surprisingly, also only my second call on the friendly folks at Chesa. I had organized my birthday dinner here back in November last year, and I was seriously wowed by the whole shebang. And this subsequent feast proved that my introduction hadn't been any anomaly. It was a pitch-perfect meal from start to finish.

After significant study of the menu, we settled on the signature fondue moitie-moitie and Swiss veal sausage with rich onion sauce, all washed down with a heavenly bottle of fendant. And we finished things off with two desserts: a decadent meringue and Swiss roll. In the midst of this global pandemic with actual travel all but impossible, a visit to Chesa is about as close as I'll possibly get to re-visiting the culinary joys of last summer's wildly successful trip to Switzerland. And, for the record, it was pretty damn close.

As we'd been enjoying our meal, the sounds of live music from the lobby were emanating upwards towards our table. "Oh, yes," the waitress informed us. "There's a band complete with a vocalist performing every Sunday evening until eleven."

Well, I guess you know where Hana and I headed after wolfing down the complimentary petit-fours that cap off any meal at Chesa. After a quick pop to Spring Moon, the Cantonese restaurant where Christina and Matt were having dinner, to say a quick goodnight, we made a beeline for the nearly deserted lobby, where, sure enough, a group of musicians were serenading a thin crowd.

I ordered a double espresso and, during a pause in numbers after New York, New York, I called up to the singer. "Do you take request?"

"Sure, what do you want?" was her immediate reply.

With only a second to think, and sitting in the Peninsula's historic lobby, I blurted out the first title that came to my head. "How about Slow Boat to China?"

"O.K." she said, and a few moments later the music had started. I almost immediately ordered a Grand Marnier.

For the rest of the evening, she indulged pretty much every request Hana and I threw out there.

Valerie.

Fly Me to the Moon.

Strangers in the Night.

And a poignant rendition of Love is a Many-Splendored Thing. What could have been a more appropriate selection to draw this magical day to a finale?

From the earliest stages of its planning, I knew this weekend's dream was to be but a brief reverie. And I was O.K. with that—or, rather, I had to be. But I was still not quite prepared to awake on Monday morning to the realization that things were coming to an end. Enter the heroic Peninsula front desk clerk, who informed me as I headed towards the elevator up to my room on Sunday evening that my 9am check-out time was pushed back to noon.

That ensured that my final hours were leisurely, a most welcome extension of the two days that had preceded them.

It began—as most good days do—with another hearty breakfast in the ornate lobby. Originally, I had invited a friend to join me, because, as you will remember, my package included breakfast for two each morning. A last minute cancellation left me flying solo, but even this cloud turned out to have the silverest of livings.

"The way the breakfast works is that each table can spend up to HKD 400 per person in the booking, and since you're booked for two, that means your table is comped up to HKD 800. If you go over that, you'll only need to pay the difference," the friendly waiter explained.

The day before, Danijela and I had each ordered the signature Peninsula breakfast set, but today I oped to explore the enticing a la carte options, starting with a hearty breakfast burger, with molten cheese, caramelized onions and perfectly fried potatoes. It came out perfectly rare, just as I always order—but so infrequently, or, if you'll pardon the pun, rarely, receive—my meat in Hong Kong.

It was utterly fabulous, and I was so glad I had decided to go down a different route than the standard onslaught of fresh fruit, granola, eggs and bacon that we'd savored the day before. And there was another item on the menu that really piqued my interest, that I just had to try. Truffle and lobster sausage. Yes, you read that right. Truffle. And lobster. Sausage. Well, I had a little bit left in my breakfast budget, and the waiter veritably urged me not to miss out.

Let's just say, I may have never heard of lobster sausage before, but I'm not quite sure why this isn't a breakfast staple. They say Wheaties is the breakfast of champions. What madness! Truffle and lobster sausage is the true breakfast of champions. I vow to become a frequent champion.

Even eaten in a hovel, this was a breakfast fit for a king. But taken in the palace-like surroundings of the Peninsula's 1928 lobby, it was one for the ages.

Between finishing meal and now, I squeezed in a bit of shopping and even found Matt down on the sun deck, where a most glorious Monday sun was shining over the city. He and Christina—the lucky devils—are staying the whole day, having taken off from work to celebrate her birthday. But I have to be making tracks, catching that Star Ferry across the harbor to the office.

As I get ready to check out now, packed to the rafters with souvenirs to remember this monumental weekend, I feel so fortunate that I've finally achieved a major life goal. Let's hope this first stay at the Pen isn't my last. But if it must be, I'm comforted in the memories of a pretty near perfect weekend, filled with food, friends and fun.

Long live the grande dame!

Silent Spring

As I listen to stories of people all over the world slowly coming out of lockdown, I remain so grateful to have spent the past string of months in Hong Kong, this glorious archipelago blessed with so much natural beauty, where the worst we’ve had to endure has been a few weeks of scaled down social gatherings and the short-term closure of venues like gyms, cinemas and beauty parlors.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. Life has been a little quiet since Chinese New Year, make no mistake. And the face mask is now a firmly-rooted daily necessity. What's more, there's no doubt the global implications of COVID-19 are going to be with us for a long time. Nobody will be able to escape that. But those of us who’ve weathered this storm in Hong Kong need to count our blessings. For unlike the residents of so many places, we’ve never lost the ability to dine in restaurants, we’ve always been able to go out of our apartments with complete freedom, and there’s never been any discussion of which industries are essential and which are expendable. For the most part, everything has managed to remain open for business except those few enterprises that pose such obvious risks that they were ordered to temporarily shutter.

And the good news is that, with only minimal disruption to everyday life, Hong Kong has remarkably escaped the worst of the pandemic, at least in terms of the disease itself. Considering our city’s interconnectedness with Wuhan—previously the source of multiple daily direct flights and even trains arrivals—the fact that our overall number of confirmed cases today sits at 1,084 is downright extraordinary. And our death count is four. Four.

Although I believe that any loss of life is a tragedy, comparing our figures to the number of infections and fatalities in other places in the world makes it pretty obvious that Hong Kong has emerged from this whole thing largely unscathed.

The biggest consequence for most of us has been the inability to venture further afield, as COVID-19 has made foreign travel problematic since mid-March. That’s when the Hong Kong government enacted a strict fourteen-day home quarantine for all international arrivals. So, while a limited number of flights are still running, anybody who opts to exit the SAR is slapped with a monitoring bracelet upon his return, restricted from leaving his apartment (or a hotel room, if you prefer) for a full fortnight! It’s removed pretty much all motivation to cross the border until this rule is relaxed.

Obviously, keeping the virus out is paramount, so I have no complaints about the government’s strict rules for returnees. But without travel to keep us occupied—so far, I’ve postponed six previously planned trips—and blessed with our continued freedom to move about the territory at will, many of us have taken to reminding ourselves just why we love this place so damn much.

Yes, May, a month usually blessed with warm weather, has proven a great opportunity to relish all the joys this city has to offer. The skies are often arrestingly beautiful and, although there has been some rain of late, it’s been quite a stellar month. There have been a few bittersweet notes, to be sure, but on the whole, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.

Many of my friends back home, particularly those in New York, have not been so lucky. And some have resorted to clever ways to entertain themselves in the midst of this crisis. Heidi has even invited me to participate in two virtual pub quizzes, organized by friends who work for the United Nations!

They’re kind of fun, believe it or not. Everybody gathers on Zoom, and the quizmaster reads out the questions of any given round. And then you and your teammates are either sent into “break rooms” where you can discuss your thoughts on the best answers, or you just converse in a Whatsapp group chat. Sure, it’s not a permanent replacement for gathering in a bar. But it’s certainly better than nothing!

Here in Hong Kong, May arrives each year in the form of a public holiday marking Labour Day. This year, it also happened to be a Friday, meaning a long weekend. And, in an even greater quirk of timing, Buddha’s Birthday fell just one day earlier, the thirtieth of April, a Thursday. That means we got a four-day weekend to celebrate.

I had planned to spend Buddha’s Birthday with my friends Myles and Chun on Lantau for a hike, but traffic was so bad that they got stuck for hours waiting for a bus. I wound up alone atop Ngong Ping 360, which was supposed to serve as our communal meeting spot before heading off. But it was undeniably cool to mark the holiday in the shadow on the iconic Buddha statue and wish the big guy many happy returns.

Instead of hiking, I spent some time wandering about, since I’m pretty sure I haven’t been up here since Jen and Shea came to visit almost five years ago. Atmospheric Po Lin Monastery, with its spiritual, mystical air; touristy Ngong Ping Village, its polar opposite; and the massive statue itself, surveying this ironic juxtaposition. All in all, I lingered for over an hour, just soaking everything in.

And, in a random coincidence, I bumped into my friend Tanya just as I was about to scale the steep staircase that leads to the statue itself! It was so nice to be able to catch up with her, as we both concurred that we were exceptionally lucky to have been spared full-on lockdowns and other coronavirus-related measures that have been implemented in less lucky locales.

It was a public holiday, of course, and with all those trips now cast aside, I’ve continued using the funds originally earmarked for vacations to indulge in little splurges from time to time. And so, instead of taking the bus back down, I opted for the glorious cable car and even went so far as booking a crystal cabin, the special glass-floored gondolas that offer a stunning ride from the Buddha down to Tung Chung far below.

I actually did have a little important work to attend to, so I wound up alone in my office for a few hours in the afternoon. But before long, Myles and Chun arrived, and we headed over to ifc roof for a Shake Shack burger. In the end, it wasn’t at all how I thought I’d be spending the day, but it turned out pretty perfectly.

On the first of May, that next day, I actually laid low. A far cry from how I normally mark a public holiday, I know, but as this was the second in a row, and the previous day had been such a wild success, I opted to stay close to home, lounging around with Fredric.

But it was also, as I mentioned earlier, a Friday, and I realized as lunchtime drew near that I hadn’t tried a new restaurant yet that week. You see, I have a self-enforced rule that at least once between Monday and Friday, I must experiment with a new lunch venue. I don’t know why I have to resort to imposing strict regulations on myself, but I do…

It has to be lunch, and it has to be during the work week. (Of course, I’m always free to try a new place for dinner, or over the weekend, too. But the rule applies only to weekday lunches. In case you’re wondering, if I wind up trying two new venues one week, it doesn’t get me out of the requirement for the next. I still have to find a new restaurant.) And so, there I was, my last chance to be in compliance for the week.

I searched Google for dog-friendly restaurants, as I wanted my canine companion to join me, and we wound up at Little Bao, a very popular eatery I’ve been meaning to try for years. Previously in SoHo, the Chinese-fusion hotspot is now located in Causeway Bay overlooking Victoria Park, meaning it’s an easy walk from my flat.

Honestly, most of the new restaurants I try out don’t wow me. Of the twenty or so venues I’ve given a whirl so far this year, there’re only a few I’ll definitely return to. But Little Bao is surely among them. In fact, I’ve already been back twice—including earlier today, meaning my last lunch of the month was at the same place where I had the first—in addition to having placed two Deliveroo delivery orders! That’s a total of five meals in as many weeks, so I guess it’s safe to assume I like the place.

Anyway, having missed out on my hike on Thursday, I made up for it on Saturday. I hike a fair amount when the weather permits, and with the approach of summer, it seemed a good idea to squeeze a few in before the heat and humidity really arrive in full force in June. So when my friends Matt and Ana organized a jaunt up to Sunset Peak, I quickly hopped on. Often cited by nature enthusiasts as one of Hong Kong’s most beautiful trails, Sunset Peak is a spot I’ve known about it for years. In fact, probably a decade. So it was a bit shocking to realize I’d never done it before.

The views along the way were pretty astounding, I must say. Rugged Lantau really looks good on a bright morning, even if a few clouds did obscure the actual summit. And I’m proud to report that it wasn’t too much of a struggle, from a physical perspective. All in all, I really enjoyed it.

Of course, after such strenuous activity, a beer on the beach tastes very good indeed. And down on Pui O, we had more than our fair share that afternoon, under splendidly sunny skies.

And then it was back to Mui Wo, for a fresh seafood feast. As we ordered, I snuck away from the table for a few moments.

You may recall that last month, on Easter Monday, I stumbled upon a small wine shop in Mui Wo, where I picked up a bottle of Amontillado. Well, as that bottle—which I thoroughly enjoyed—was now long finished, and since I was back in the village, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that I might as well stop by and pick up another.

The friendly shop owner steered me towards a Palo Cortado, another variety of sherry, which also seriously impressed me. And, perhaps inevitably, a few days later, I wound up on the Wikipedia page learning more about this popular wine. Part of the article mentions that a specific breed of dog, the Ratonero Bodeguero Andaluz, is particularly associated with sherry, having been bred over centuries to aid vintners by hunting vermin between wine barrels in the cellars. There’s even a little Ratonero on the label of the bottles of the particular brand this shop stocks. And who knows? Maybe a future trip to Andalusia—we have that office in Malaga, you may remember—will see me adopting a little brother for Fredric. I even have his name all picked out: Monte, short for Amontillado.

Back at the table, in a stroke of impeccable timing, the first of the dishes had arrived, crunchy fried squid and clams in black bean sauce. And before long, the waitress was placing our heavenly steamed whole pomfret down. Not having eaten yet that day, I was absolutely starving by this point. And our whole group really went to town on pretty much everything that was spread out before us. It was a fantastic meal.

One of the little bonuses of any ferry journey to or from Central is a stop at Beer Bay, a casual bar set up between the Discover Bay and Lamma Island piers. It’s really only a takeaway stand, but they have such a great selection on offer, and so many people wind up chilling out in the vicinity after selecting their brews, that it makes for as wonderful an atmosphere as a waterfront watering hole could ask for. Someone inevitably whips out a guitar, or stars singing, and the whole place takes on a very special ambiance. So, that night, it was only fitting that we continued the party there upon our arrival on dry land.

Believe it or not, the very next day, I was back to Lantau, my third trip over in four days. It was another gorgeous morning, clear skies, a few clouds and strong sun. And as our boat pulled out of Central, you could just tell it was going to be a sensational day.

I don’t know why, but the route between Central and Mui Wo almost always seems to host a flock of flying fish. It’s the only place I know in Hong Kong where you can count on seeing scads of scaly swimmers jumping out of the water in the wake of your boat as you cruise along. They make an appearance pretty much every time!

It’s always a breathtaking experience to spot the first of the school, quickly followed by his little classmates, all jumping out of the water like corn kernels popping on a hot skillet.

The catalyst for that day’s trip was a picnic on Cheung Sha Beach, organized by our friends Lisa and Agust. And even Fredric came along for the fun. We selected a grassy spot at a stretch called Welcome Beach, popular with landing paragliders. And what with the delectable home-cooked specialties provided by Lisa, and a constant flow of cold beers from a nearby shop, it was a great day indeed.

Beer Bay was closed by the time we pulled back into the pier in Central, as it was fairly late on a Sunday evening. But a nearby Circle K supplied us with a few cans, so we could properly cap off our madcap Lantau weekend and toast to the good memories.

Yes, April had segued into May seamlessly and memorably! It was to be a month full of tasty food, memorable outdoor time in some of Hong Kong’s most sensational settings, and lots of movies.

So let’s start with the food, shall we?

Of course, the month just isn’t complete without celebrating Cinco de Mayo. It’s probably the only day of the year when I have Mexican for both lunch and dinner, never fail. And this year, I continued the tradition.

In fact, I had lunch near my flat, at a brand-new Cali-Mex that’s opened in Happy Valley, replacing O’Bird, the fabulous French rotisserie I used to frequent. Still, a free margarita eases the transition, alright. And the friendly staff are always a pleasure to chat with.

I probably don’t have to tell you this, but I booked a spot at Agave for dinner. It just wouldn’t be Cinco de Mayo in Hong Kong without a stop here. With that blasted four person per table restriction still in place, our Tuesday night dinner was a far cry from last year’s black out Sunday brunch for twelve. But it was still a great night with my friends Max, Celine and Danijela, as we sipped margaritas and micheladas and chowed down on seriously amazing South of the Border specialties, including my favorite molcajetes with fiery habanero prawns.

One memorable Monday I headed to ifc after work to make use of a hundred-dollar coupon that was about to expire. I headed straight up to Crystal Jade, where I indulged in a hearty feast for one. Xiao long bao, spicy chili wantons, dan dan noodles and a shredded Shandong pancake… Of course, it was too much food and I wound up taking most of the dan dan to go. But there’s a reason I often cite this place as my favorite restaurant in town. And that dinner was proof positive.

There was even one final trek over to Lantau before the month was out, last Sunday. Initially, I had just headed over myself, content to spend my day in solitude. I had a hankering for Turkish food, and my favorite Turkish restaurant happens to be in Mui Wo. I also wanted to re-stock my sherry. But it wound up being a much fuller day than I could have anticipated.

As I was feasting on stuffed grape leaves and cigarette borek, I got a message from Matt saying that he and Ana were also in Mui Wo. Of course, after finishing my lunch, I headed over the fresh seafood restaurant where they were eating. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Lisa and Agust with them, too. I’m sure you’ve guessed that they were complementing their meal with a few ice-cold bottles of Tsing Tao.

“Have a glass?” Ana asked in a way that was more of a command than a question, especially as she was already pouring it for me before I’d had a chance to say yes. Not that I’d have refused it, anyway.

Coincidentally, that day just happened to be Hari Raya, the Indonesia name for Eid, a holiday celebrated by Muslims the world over to mark the end of Ramadan. And in a stroke of good fortune, Ana and Lisa, both Indonesians themselves, had friends who lived along the beach, who invited us all over for a party, the highlight of which was a sensational home-cooked buffet of scrumptious specialties.

As we walked back towards the ferry at the day’s end, there were about fifteen buffalo just lounging on the beach. It’s almost surreal to think that you’re only a short boat ride from one of the world’s busiest metropolises, yet here you have wild animals freely roaming in a quaint seaside village.

I’ll always be grateful for little Mui Wo, so easily accessible, yet worlds removed from the hustle of Hong Kong. I guess I don’t have to tell you that I bought another bottle of sherry from the little shop—this time a Manzanilla Pasada en Rama—before hopping back on the ferry home.

One of the veritable highlights of the month was a Saturday excursion to another of Hong Kong’s plentiful outlying islands, remote Tung Ping Chau, where I ventured with Danijela.

I think I mentioned in my last post that Danijela is moving to Germany soon, having accepted a new job offer. As such, she’s trying her best to check all the items off her Hong Kong to do list. Well, when she asked if I wanted to tag along to the most far flung of our outlying islands, I jumped at the chance. I’ve been meaning to go myself for some time now, but it’s just so far from everything, with such sporadic ferry connections, that I just never got around to it. Until now!

If Mui Wo is a quick and easy destination, with its hourly boats every day of the week, tiny Tung Ping Chau is the opposite! We took an early morning Uber from Causeway Bay to the pier in University, out past Sha Tin in the New Territories. And then we took a weekend-only ninety-minute boat ride that finally let us off on the tiny, flat outcrop of an island, famous for its stunning rock formations.

From the abandoned settlements near the dock, to the wooded trail that encircles the island, to a glorious, long beach where we lounged the afternoon away, to a pretty phenomenal little al fresco restaurant where we indulged in some fried squid and curry fish balls, the island really won me over.

I can assure you, there’s no way I’m waiting long before my second visit, as it really was a special place that captures so much of what makes Hong Kong so incredible.

In addition to all the calories and outdoor time in my city I’ve just told you about, I’ve also spent a fair amount of my free hours staring at screens. And I’m not talking about the computer at work.

Two weeks ago Friday, I got the itch to watch Way Down East. Does that ever happen to you? Somehow, the idea of a movie gets into your mind, and you just have to watch it that night. Whether you hear a song that conjures up a memory, or a still from the film is posted somewhere online, or somebody drops a quote during everyday conversations…

So I don’t know why, but there I was, sitting at my desk at the office, unable to think of little else except Lillian Gish drifting down the White River on an ice floe. So I decided I had to go home and pop on the DVD that night.

And it put a little idea in my head to self-curate a mini-festival called Silent Spring. My goal was to watch silent movies—and only silent movies—for the next two weeks. And I’m proud to say I made it to twenty! (Yes, I had Hearts and Flowers stuck in my head for days.)

I ensured all the big stars were included. Lillian Gish, of course. Swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, America’s Sweetheart. Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, the great silent clowns. Theda Bara, the original Vamp. Lon Chaney, the Man of a Thousand Faces. Corinne Griffith, the Orchid Lady of the Screen. And legends like Marion Davies, Rudolph Valentino, Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson, John Gilbert, Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford.

During the silent days, especially the late silent days just before the movies learned to talk, Hollywood hit supreme visual and artistic heights the likes of which were never again equaled after the arrival of sound. With sparkling dialogue to distract us, audiences just don’t require such arresting images to hold our attention for a couple of hours in the dark. But, luckily, we’ll always have those great examples from the late twenties.

In addition to Way Down East, I watched (in order) Broken Blossoms, The Sheik, Son of the Sheik, La Bohème, The Garden of Eden, The Thief of Bagdad, He Who Gets Slapped, Peter Pan, The Mysterious Lady, Sherlock Jr., The Circus, Speedy, A Fool There Was, Wings, Sadie Thompson, My Best Girl, Sunrise, Show People and Our Dancing Daughters.

A few of these are bona fide favorites of mine, classics I’ve screened dozens of times. But I made an effort to squeeze in quite a few new ones, mostly movies I’ve wanted to catch for years yet somehow never got around to. Some had even been in my DVD folder for over a decade, never having been watched. (Such was the fervor with which I purchased DVDs with my parents’ credit cards during my youth!)

Among the list you can spot the first Oscar-winning Best Picture, Wings, an epic World War I drama I dragged my mother and sister into Manhattan to see at Film Forum when I was in high school. I’ve loved it ever since.

Incidentally, that first year when Wings won the Oscar, the Academy handed out two statuettes that—at the time—were deemed to be the co-equal top honors of the evening. F.W. Murnau’s masterful Sunrise, also a part of my Silent Spring selection, won an award for Best Unique and Artistic Picture, while Wings took one home for what was then called Outstanding Picture. It was only the following year, with the former category now discontinued, that the Academy retroactively decided that the award won by Wings was to henceforth be their highest honor.

Sunrise, for what it’s worth, is an even better film. With its haunting use of double exposure and  liberal onslaught of breathtaking tracking shots, it holds up remarkably well for its ninety-plus years. (I also saw it for the first time back in high school. Twentieth Century Fox released a new line of DVDs called Studio Classics. A limited-edition disc of Sunrise was sent to customers who bought three of these titles and mailed in the proofs of purchase. I still remember the day the postman delivered my copy.)

But I’d never seen either of Valentino’s Sheiks nor Garbo’s Mysterious Lady nor Chaney, Shearer and Gilbert in the first M-G-M production He Who Gets Slapped. It was a pleasure to discover them, and several of the others, and I’m already thinking I’ll need a summertime installment of my festival. Maybe Son of Silent Spring is a catchier title than uninspired Silent Summer?

I broke my fast and returned to talking pictures with 1988's Cinema Paradiso on Friday night at Movie Movie, formerly the AMC in Pacific Place. Yes, the government relaxed its restriction, allowing cinemas to re-open with added precautions. But I guess with a dearth of new flicks being released thanks to COVID, the theaters have taken to digging out the old reels gathering dust in their closets. Anyway, it’s a movie I’d long heard was an Italian masterpiece, and I jumped at the chance to buy a ticket when I spotted it on the calendar.

Danijela decided to come along, too, and although we couldn’t get seats together, we celebrated with Aperol Spritzes (the most Italian thing we could think of) before the screening. It was, put simply, an incredible motion picture, with perhaps the best ending I’ve ever seen, a manic frenzy of kisses taken from all manner of classic black and white dramas, a montage that doubles as a love letter to cinema itself. I’ve watched it on YouTube countless times these past couple of days, and I just can’t get Ennio Morricone’s amazing score out of my head. It finally replaced Hearts and Flowers, mercifully!

Post-screening, Danijela and I walked to Wan Chai, where we linked up with our friends Myles, Chun, Omar and Sarah for drinks at a great cocktail bar called WTF, which stands for, contrary to what you might first think, Worth the Fuss, indicating the amount of love and effort that goes into crafting each cocktail on their lengthy list. I’ve whizzed past the place pretty much every day on the tram to work, but shockingly never ventured inside. Let’s just say, I’ll be back soon. It’s one of the best cocktail bars I’ve yet found here.

But apart from such high highs, this month has had its share of bittersweet occasions, too.

With today drawing the month of May to a close, it’s with a heavy heart that Hong Kong says a communal so long to Jimmy’s Kitchen, the 1928-opened mainstay of the city’s culinary fabric. Referred to as a local institution, it’s been lionized in the press these past few weeks, and, of course, I relished one last visit, with my friends Hana and Julien a few Sundays ago. There’s talk that, if they can find the right location, they just may re-open in the future. But in case this really is the end, I’m glad my last feast was one to remember.

I indulged in prime rib with gravy and Yorkshire pudding, complete with a smoked bloody Mary and great service. The three of us even split an order of French toast as a dessert. I took a long, wistful look over my shoulder as we walked out.

However, the most heartbreaking day of the month for me was the nineteenth, my sister’s birthday, and her thirtieth, to boot. I had always intended to fly home to mark the milestone. I mean, how could I not? She came all the way to Hong Kong back in 2016 to wish me a happy thirtieth in person, and it seemed inconceivable not to return the favor.

Alas, COVID made it pretty much impossible.

But my good friend Kitty is a very talented illustrator, and I called her about two weeks in advance of the big day to see if she might be able to dream up a little imaginary birthday shot my sister and I could share together. She immediately agreed, and I sent her a few photos of Danii to give her some inspiration.

I was absolutely astounded by the incredible drawing she presented me with. My only problem was that I still had a week to go, and I was so anxious to share it, that at several points I thought my excitement would get the better of me, and I’d jump the gun. In the end, I held out long enough to surprise my sister with it on her birthday, and it was so nice to feel like I’d contributed in some small way to her happiness on such an important occasion.

My dad and sister, the lucky devils, are actually down in Chincoteague, Virginia, celebrating a week late, but better than not at all. Knowing the amazing food, especially the oysters, they must be eating, I steered a work lunch this past Thursday to Fish Bar, so I could indulge myself. Seated by the pool at the JW Marriott with a dozen Irish and French bivalves, it was as close as I could get to joining them.

Of course, when I called Kitty to talk about a potential portrait, she mentioned that it had been awhile since we last hung out. “I’m actually going kayaking this weekend in Sai Kung, if you’d like to join,” she said. It was an invitation I readily accepted.

I’d never been kayaking before. But it was certainly a blast. I think it was a bit of an ambitious route to thrust upon a first timer like myself, but it turned out to be a very fun day. 

I especially liked our sojourn on Grass Island, a tiny fishing village famous for sea urchin fried rice and a particularly cluttered, rocky beach that made for great combing. Not only was it great to give my poor arms a break from all the rowing, but the food was utterly delicious and the shells and sea glass I brought home with me look great displayed atop my living room cabinet.

Of course, it’s spring here, so that means we’ve been subjected to some impressive precipitation. There have been thundery nights where I’ve watched the rain splatter on the window pains of my glass cube of a bedroom. And early mornings where I’ve gotten stuck at my local coffee shop, Happy Alley, unable to leave in spite of my large umbrella, because the rain was pouring down so hard.

Even yesterday wound up being a typically glorious, lazy, boozy rain fest. My friend Christina is a realtor and she was showing an apartment in Happy Valley. If she hadn’t texted me to see if I wanted to meet up for lunch afterwards, I probably wouldn’t have found the motivation to leave my flat.

But she did. And I was thirsty. So I convinced her to swap out the lunch for a round of drinks, and down we went to the Jockey for a few pints. When we overheard the patrons at the next table mention they were about to begin a game of Cards Against Humanity, we invited ourselves to join. And twelve pints later, we hopped a taxi to Kennedy Town, to continue the party on the waterfront at a local brewery-cum-restaurant called Little Creatures.

Realizing we were just downstairs from Max and Celine’s pad, I sent across a quick message, asking if they were free to come say hello. They were, and they brought little Zoey with them, their adorable almost one-year old daughter. The Saturday evening crowd was out in full force, a din of laughter carried by the salty sea breeze. There was even a random couple making out. Yes, apart from the still-present masks, it felt as though life had pretty much gone back to normal for all intents and purposes.

The day had been a full one. Random encounters with new friends, spontaneous messaging to and from old ones, leading to unexpected meet-ups and an all-day drinking session. It’s the Hong Kong we all know and love again.

And what more fitting ending could such a day have than a screening of Grand Hotel in my living room. I’d wanted to watch it for days but had held off, owing to my utter commitment to Silent Spring. Now, at long last, it was time to indulge, especially after a glorious close-up of Garbo about to embrace John Barrymore had featured the night before in the finale of Cinema Paradiso.

All in all, it was a great evening… A great afternoon… A great day. Well, I guess, in the end, it was simply an all-around great month.