Keith's birthday, 2008

It seemed so simple in theory: to celebrate Keith's birthday we'd get a group of friends together and sail over to Lamma Island for a party at Rainbow Seafood Restaurant.

The view from Rainbow Restaurant.
Different visit, however!

The Redoubtable Mrs Walker even arranged for a private boat to come over from the island to pick us up.

So that was the plan: all meet up at Pier 9 in Central at 7pm. Casual, easy, no dramas, right?

Wrong! At 4pm, HK hoists a level 8 typhoon warning; hurricane heading straight for us. (5th this year, too!) Mad phone calls all round but, what the hell, we're all intrepid souls: "We'll do it anyway"!

6.30 pm and there's me, all dressed up and ready to leave when I discover I've lost Keith. Phone lines are congested and I can't reach him ... so I decide he's gone ahead to Pier 9 and that I'll meet him there. But how to get there? The obvious choice is the MTR only there's a massive storm in progress with blinding, driving, whipping rain, so I think "I'll get wet under the covered walkways from the station to Pier 9!" so I get a taxi.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hong Kong ALWAYS gridlocks during storms.

Worst journey ever, but, thankfully, I have a hilariously funny driver and it becomes his mission to get me there in time. He almost makes it too. But, close to the MTR Central station, I realise it's three minutes to 7 and we're still trapped in traffic and the only way I'll get there in time is to get out and run. No umbrella. Only a folded newspaper for cover and I'm dashing down the middle of the road, ducking between cars, through the freezing, cutting rain, and I see the covered walkways there in the distance and they're looking mighty good and I'm thinking what an idiot I am.

But I get there in time, wet, bedraggled, shivering with cold, with seconds to spare, but ... Pier 9 is almost empty. Freezing, whipping winds, and there's only Aussie Christine and the Walkers waiting and, dammit, they're all dry and, yes, they'd come from the MTR along the covered walkway. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And no, no one's seen Birthday Boy. Nor anyone else either, and The Redoubtable Mrs Walker is frantic: she's lost the English contingent and, since they're new to HK, if they don't make the boat they don't know about alternatives. The New Zealand contingent? Who knows? But I do manage to reach Keith. He's in a taxi trapped in traffic, two miles away. "Go ahead without me." says Keith. "I'll get the regular ferry over."

The boat can't wait any longer. They have a schedule. "You both go ahead" says The Redoubtable One. "We'll wait for the others and catch the next ferry!"

So, of the entire party, it's only Aussie Christine and I braving the storm on the private boat ... but we manage to get a call from the New Zealand contingent: they've caught the 7pm regular ferry and are already braving the heaving, squally seas, minutes ahead of us. Seems they didn't realise we'd organised a private boat and thought "Pier 9? But the Lamma ferry leaves from Pier 5?" and went there instead. Ho hum! No biggie. "We'll meet you at the restaurant."

Rainbow Seafood Restaurant. We finally arrive and there's not a single Kiwi in sight. We manage another call through: "We're waiting for you." we're told. "We're in the Seafood Restaurant." "No, you're not!" we tell them. "Yes, we are." "No, you're not!" and then it dawns on us: "Which Seafood Restaurant?" "The one in Shue Bay!!!!" Damn, damn, damn! "We're in the one in Sok Bay!"

The one in Sok Bay.
Different visit, however.

They're miles away, over a mountain, no road, only a cliff-edge path, dangerous enough to walk in daylight without the savage, whipping winds and blinding rain. What to do? "We'll send a boat around to get you!" we tell them.

But the Tanka boat-people aren't stupid. There's a hurricane in the offing and no one will risk the journey for less than $500. And it's only a little sampan too.

A sampan in Sai Kung,
so not the one we're talking about.
But you get the idea!

Even coast-hugging those seas look dangerous, and, honestly, do we really want to risk our friends' lives that way, all for a birthday party. Another phone call gets through: "You're on your own!" we tell them. They're fine with that; over in Sok Bay, the wine is flowing and they've already ordered the sea bass in lemon grass. Kiwis are nothing if not "make do with what we have" people. "We need a smaller table." we tell Rainbow.

"Stuff it all!" we say, "Let's just get drunk!" But the wine is hugely, prohibitively expensive, but - dammit - the occasion is dire, so we order the cheapest they've got: a Penfolds red, forgotten which one, and it arrives and it's just soooo good; we're talking seriously, seriously good so not the stuff for quaffing and thus we decide to just sit back and enjoy it ... and that's when the night started being fun. Aussie Christine is gorgeous and we had lots of good talk and big laughs and it was already a good party when the others finally arrived, well over an hour later ... and it wasn't even ALL of the others: only the Redoubtable Walkers and Keith, shivering, cold and wet like me, having ended up running umbrella-less through the traffic too. The English contingent? Well, lost forever as far as I know. The final three just got sick of waiting and left without them.

But they joined in our bottle and, three sips in, caught our mood and instantly mellowed out. And it was our waitress' birthday too, so in the end it was a really, really pleasant evening ...

... and we all decided to have another "Keith's Birthday" next weekend to make up for it.