Chuck's Big City Eats Almost on Restaurant Row

Traditional Italian Restaurant on Ninth Avenue

        As you have probably guessed by now, Chuck is no ordinary cat.  

What cat would caterwaul while watching a Broadway play in a Broadway theatre in the heart of the Big Apple just because he liked the music?

Especially since he knew he was expected to be on his best behavior.

The New York crowd expects sophistication!  So as we sauntered (rather quickly) out of Evita, I had my doubts as to whether we could put the next phase of our plan into operation--stop at one of the fabulous eateries on Restaurant Row in New York City--especially since I couldn’t guarantee that said cat would behave himself.

But I was starving, and on our way to the theatre, we’d passed a gauntlet of fabulous eating places.

No matter what you were in the mood for . . .

if you liked French cuisine, then the Marseille Restaurant was for you . . .

French Restaurant

           if you were in the mood for exotic Thai food with a vietnamese influence, then Yum Yum on the corner of 46th Street would be perfect . . .

           the Hour Glass Tavern with their famed Bettibar and their cute menu serving snacklettes and sliders and snackages and stuffed puffs was a particular favorite of Chuck’s . . .

Thai Food or American fare at the Bettibar?

            I spied Becco and remembered when we’d gone there the year before and simply loved the food and the wine and the waiter and the entire experience.  Lydia’s son Joe (yes, that Lydia, the famous chef who has the show on the Food Network) owns the restaurant and offers good Italian food at fair prices and all wine under $25.00) . . .

One of my favorites--Lydia's son Joe owns and operates

And what about an open MIC piano bar that has been a landmark for over 25 years?  I loved the name, although I have to admit I’d never heard of the place before now--Don’t Tell Mama.  And there’s a singing wait staff.  We were tempted, but then fearful that Chuck might begin to caterwaul again . . .

Open MIC piano bar and singing waiters

What about Irish food -- O’Flaherty’s popped into view . . .

I love Irish fare

And we couldn’t miss the brightly colored Via Brasil Restaurant--the eye-popping yellow and the green facade which offered traditional Brazilian dishes of meat and fish including Churrasco, a grilled meat dish . . .

The colors alone drew my eye

Was Bob (or Chuck, for that matter) in the mood for a steak?  Broadway Joe Steak House beckoned us to drop in and become part of the magic that has surrounded this restaurant since 1949.  It has been featured in several Hollywood movies and was the restaurant where Joe Namath, the famed football player, chose to hang with his buddies when his career was in full swing . . .

This place has a really interesting history . . .

But, no, we passed these restaurants by and chose instead a lesser known restaurant on Ninth Avenue called Cara Mia, a traditional Italian Restaurant with a cozy setting and great food.  The wait staff appeared to be friendly and the service appeared to be prompt.  

Our choice for dinner . . .

Things were calm.

We sat in the back and figured nothing could go wrong now, and, therefore, we became what we later realized to be “too comfortable.”

We loved the interior . . .

Chuck, who normally--at least in a restaurant setting, especially in New York (sophistication expected) remained hidden in my smart bag, but stuck his head out to look around AT EXACTLY THE WRONG MOMENT.

Our waiter, who was amazingly friendly and congenial up that point, spotted him.  He raced over to our table with a surprised look on his face. Let me rephrase that.  He raced over with a SURPRISED look on his face.

“Is that a cat?” he whispered.

Now, I recognize that he was in a difficult position.  We’d already placed our order, a very generous order -- appetizer--in fact two appetizers (we are hearty eaters), the main course -- a rather expensive entry that I’d convinced myself I just had to have--something I don’t often see offered on a menu so I jumped at the chance to have it “osso bucco.”  And he probably also figured we were going to go for the gusto and order dessert.  So, did he really want to KICK US OUT OF THE RESTAURANT IF WE ADMITTED TO HAVING A CAT? 

All of this, of course, remained unsaid.  

I smiled at his question.  “Is that a problem?” I asked.  

He narrowed his gaze at me.  “This is New York.”

I cleared my throat.  “One of my favorite cities.
“This is a sophisticated restaurant.”

“I can tell by the decor,” I said, smiling again.  “This restaurant is bellisimo.” I threw in some Italian, hoping it would help.

“We do not allow cats.”

Of course I knew that. But I remembered traveling in France where the French people were allowed to bring their dogs just about anywhere.  There never was a problem.  Why couldn’t we be more like them?  I wanted to say something like that, but I didn’t dare.  I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.  I figured--keep quiet and say nothing.  The ball was in his court.

But he didn’t say anything.

“Would you like us to leave before we’ve eaten?”

“I’m thinking,” he finally admitted.

“He is a very well behaved cat,” I lied.

At this moment anything could have happened.  I half expected Chuck, the rascal, to begin caterwauling again and expose my lie.  But he didn’t.  

Our waiter swiveled on his heel, like the way you see the professional waiters do in the movies, and he left our table.  

When he returned, moments later, he’d brought our appetizer.  

Not another word was said about Chuck.

I turned to Bob.  He shook his head.  “Entirely too much stress.”

But, still, we ate our delicious meal and left.  

        TO READ MORE ABOUT CHUCK AND HIS ADVENTURES, YOU CAN LOG ONTO WWW.KATELUTTER.COM

        MY PARANORMAL ROMANCE, WILD POINT ISLAND, IS NOW AVAILABLE AT AMAZON.COM AND BARNESANDNOBLE.COM  IN PAPERBACK AND EBOOK.

 

Chuck "Sings" With Evita

The Evita Poster announcing our arrival at the Marquis Theatre in NYC

               

               I make no secret that I’m a Jersey girl, born and bred.  And, I suppose, that Chuck, my rascal cat can be considered a Jersey boy, too.

One of the advantages of living in New Jersey--the so-called Garden State--is its proximity to New York.  Once Chuck and I returned from our trip to China, we decided to quickly undertake another perilous journey.

Where? To the BIG APPLE. The city that never sleeps.

I wanted to see the musical that everyone was talking about: Evita.  Because I’d heard that Ricky Martin was playing the part of Che, one of the main characters, and Bob and I had seen said pop singer years ago in concert in of all places--the Lisbon Zoo.  

Peron and Eva

Well, not exactly in the zoo.  The Lisbon Zoo had a kind of amphitheatre attached to it where performances were given, and it was just our luck to wander in at the exact moment one day when Ricky Martin was on stage performing one of his greatest hits--La Vida Loca.

It was an electrifying moment.  And maybe it was nostalgia, I’m not sure, but Ricky Martin was partly the draw that pulled us into the city to see Evita.  

Chuck--who is not a big fan of musicals--wanted to see Restaurant Row.

Because--you guessed it--when you saunter down Restaurant Row, you are accosted by some of the most delicous smells in all of New York City. In those few square blocks you pass a wide variety of eateries, and he’d heard stories of how fabulous the cuisine was in New York.

So . . . we compromised.  We’d see Evita and then have dinner in one of the fave restaurants.  

Walking through Restaurant Row on the way to the theatre

We rarely drive into the city.  We either take the train or the bus.  This time we caught the bus from Bloomfield and drove into the Port Authority in plenty of time for the Wednesday matinee at 2 p.m. 

It’s a short walk to the theatre, and it was quite exciting to see the large posters advertising Evita coming into view when you arrive at the theatre.  Posters used to be the best way to advertise in the theatre a hundred years ago--before television and radio and the internet.  In fact, the great Czech artists, Alphonse Mucha, launched his own career and that of stage actress Sarah Bernhardt in Paris at the turn of the century by creating posters for her in the Art Nouveau style, advertising her performance in various plays. 

Chuck hardly noticed the Evita posters, but he went bonkers for the large escalator that we rode to reach the theatre.  

EVITA .

Now I can imagine what you’re thinking. Are you crazy to bring a cat into a sophisticated place like a Broadway theatre?  But luckily we didn’t have the best of seats.  We were sitting towards the back of the theatre, and I was very careful to keep Chuck well hidden in my bag until the lights went down.   And for cat as jumpy as Chuck usually is, he was remarkably well-behaved.

For the first act.

Evita is all about the music.  

Don’t cry for me, Argentina.  

     I kept my promise.  Don’t keep your distance.

I can only explain what happened next--Chuck’s partial breakdown in the second act--by suggesting that, perhaps, the music got to him.  

Imagine the stage beautifully lit up, dancers twirling around, the music blaring through the theatre . . . and my rascal cat--I think this is what happened--must have gotten so excited--he began to “caterwaul” with the music. 

At first, you couldn’t hear him because the music resounded through the rather intimate setting of the theatre, but then you could . . . hear him.

“Shsh,” I said.  “No singing.  You’re not on stage.  You’re not the star.”

Immediately, he quieted down because for the moment the music stopped.  

But in Evita, one song leads into the next.  The entire play is a story set to music. So another song started and, of course, the “caterwauling” started.

The sets, the staging, the singing, the costumes--fabulous

“Chuck, did you hear me?  No singing.”

But he seemed to be a cat possessed.  

“Chuck, stop singing.”

But he couldn’t seem to keep himself from making noise.

Bob tapped me on the shoulder.  “Is that Chuck?”

“I can’t get him to stop singing.”

“I wouldn’t call that singing,” he said.

“What are we going to do?”

There were two ladies in front of us who were beginning to shift in their seat.  They were beginning to notice something.

“Snacks,” Bob said.

The magic antidote to all Chuck’s problems.

I reached into the outer pocket of my bag.  Thank God.  Temptations.  Half a bag remained.  Just in case of an emergency.  

I stuck my head into my smart bag.  “Chuck. Snacks.”

In mid note, all “caterwauling” ceased.  We were saved.

The lesson learned was: 

A CAT CANNOT CATERWAUL AND EAT SNACKS AT THE SAME TIME.    

To read more adventures about Chuck, log onto www.katelutter. com.

Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available in ebook and paperbook formats from Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.  

Chuck Almost Drowns in the Canal

Here's a shot of the canal, the main thoroughfare through the "water town."

             Before you feel too sorry for Chuck.  Before you imagine Chuck, who could have had a wild time in Shanghai, lying face down on his bed--because he ate too many snacks--just remember that Chuck is often the cause of his own difficulties.

It’s true that the next morning we flew out of the Shanghai airport for home.  We said goodbye to China.

But.

I neglected to mention that when we were in China, we didn’t always visit big cities--Beijing and Xian and Shanghai--we also wanted to see how the Chinese lived in smaller towns.  

      So we made a stop in a very interesting little town outside of Shanghai called Zhujiajiao, which is called the “water town” because a number of rivers intersect through the town. The town itself is over 1700 years old, but amazingly enough archaeologists have discovered artifacts dating back over 5,000 years.

This town is also known for its canals and for its 36 stone bridges that cross over the canals.  

One of the 36 historic stone bridges that cross the canal

Along the canals there are ancient rice shops, spice shops, and even a post office that dates back to the Qing dynasty.  Approximately 60,000 people live in the town.  There is also a Buddhist temple, of course. 

The Buddhist Temple

And, as you may already suspect, Chuck wasn’t interested in the history.  He wanted to see this “water town” for two reasons. 

He wanted a ride on one of the canal boats AND he’d heard there was this cool little shop along the canal that sold cat figurines and he wanted to bring something back for Ella, his sister.  

The upscale shop that sells "everything a cat lover wants"

He likes boats, and even though he can’t swim and he’s not a fan of water, he does like to “hang out,” and drift down a river.

Well, it all seemed innocent enough. The plan was simple--we’d ride down the canal in one of the canal boats, and we’d stop off at the cute little cat shop we’d heard about.  

What could go wrong?

We completely missed clue number one that could have alerted us to impending disaster.  When we arrived, we walked into the town along the street and passed a number of “merchants,” ahem, farmers who were selling their wares along the street.  In this particular case, this particular farmer had chickens for sale--live chickens--and one suspected that if you were interested in buying one for dinner, he would have either chopped its head off or strangled it right there in the street.

The "chicken man" who was on the street--that Chuck became fascinated with . . .

We didn’t see that.  This is pure speculation, but Chuck was mesmerized by the live chickens.  He didn’t want to leave.  

That was our clue that the curious boy was, maybe, a bit too curious.

When we arrived at the canal boat, we climbed in and took our seats.

      Now these are not fancy boats.  They are made of wood.  They are small and close to the water, so close in fact that you can dip your hand in if you want, and they resemble oversized canoes with a cloth stretched over the top that serves as the roof.  They are propelled by sheer human force using an oversized wooden paddle. 

A good shot of the canal boats and the oversized paddles that propel them

We set off down the canal, past the restaurants and the shops.  But Chuck was not noticing any of that.  His gaze was directed downward toward the water.  Toward the fish that were swimming up to the surface as we were meandering by.

Chuck inched closer to the side to get a better look, and frankly, I didn’t think anything of it.

I saw the fish, and remembered that when we’re at home, Chuck had impecable eyesight when it comes to spotting small flies and bugs that land on the wall or floor.  And then he won’t rest until he captures them.  

If you look carefully, you can almost see the fish that almost lured Chuck into the water

When Chuck inched even closer and bent over the side of the canal boat, an alarm should have gone off in my head--an alarm of danger--but it didn’t.  It seems a school of fish were swimming alongside the boat and popping up--ever so often--just often enough to make Chuck think that he might have a shot at grabbing one of them.

For a fat kid, he’s fast.

Then it happened.  He leaned a bit too far over.  

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fish leap out of the water, close to the side of the boat.  Chuck leaned out to swipe at the fish.  He teetered outward, as if he were going to fall into the water.

I was sitting there, and suddenly a shiver shot down my spine.

“Chuck,” I screamed as I reached out and grabbed the nape of his neck.

As I tell it, it was just in time. 

The kid would have fallen into the canal.  

And then what would have happened?  Chuck can’t swim.  Would he and his big belly have sunk to the bottom of the canal?  Would I have been able to reach him in time to rescue him?

“No fish is worth it,” I said to him.

But it wasn’t the fish, it was the adventure.  That’s how kids are.  They want the challenge.  Chuck was not a happy camper until the boat landed.

At least now he was able to buy his sister the cutest Chinese “Good Luck” cat that she now has hanging where she sleeps at night.  

Oh, yeah, we're back home.  Here's Ella and her new "Good Luck" cat that Chuck bought for her.

And even Chuck had to admit, Zhujiajiao, the water town, was pretty cool.

      If you'd like to read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto www.katelutter.com   

      Wild Point Island, my paranormal romance, is now available in ebook and paperback formats on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.  

Chuck Almost Goes Wild in Shanghai

Shanghai at night

          What happened next with Chuck was our fault.
After we almost lost the rascal cat in the Peace Hotel, we took him back to our hotel--Broadway Mansions--and fed him plenty of snacks.  

And since we were scheduled to return home to the states the very next day, we decided to take Chuck on a whirlwind tour of the city.  We wanted to show him all the points of interest--the Bund, the historic part of the City, the French Concession and then drive him around at night because we’d heard that Shanghai lit up at night looked spectacular! 
Chuck was to become King for the Day in Shanghai.
Our hope was that Chuck would fall in love with Shanghai.
Little could we guess what was about to happen.
And, Chuck, well, we lured him out of the hotel with the promise of snacks.  I had a bag of Temptations with me, Salmon flavor, and that’s all Chuckie needed to see.
We left the hotel and crossed the Garden Bridge, the first all steel bridge in China, built in 1908, to replace the wooden bridge that was there. This camel backtruss bridge is often the destination for brides dressed in red for good luck, posing after their wedding for pictures.  This is Shanghai’s landmark bridge.  Chuck seemed barely interested.

View of the Garden Bridge and our hotel Broadway Mansions.

Luckily, I had brought a small bowl with me and I filled the bowl with a few Temptations for Chuck to snack on.    
We headed past the Bund, located on the banks of the Huangpo River, noted for its buildings and structures of varied architectural styles--neoclassical, art deco--the Peace Hotel, but this too meant nothing to Chuck who barely glanced at the magnificent display as we road by.  I mentioned to Chuck that a new hotel had just been opened--the Peninsula Shanghai, very expensive and very swank, which included an entire mall of stores in the front section of the hotel. So you no longer had to leave your hotel to shop. There was also an immense food court a short distance from the hotel lobby. 
  Food? I sprinkled a few more Temptations in the bowl and the kid was happy.
Well, from the Bund, we headed toward the former foreign concession areas on Shanghai.  I wanted to show Chuck the French Concession because it was here that the First National Congress of the Communist Party met.  In other words, this is where China became a communist country.  Imagine what the world would be like if that were not the case today.  The house where that momentous event took place is now a museum.  Free admission.  No photos allowed, except in the dining room.  There are wax figures of the major players set up to illustrate who signed the agreement.  I suppose this is tantamount to our First Continental Congress meeting or the signing of our Declaration of Independence.  It kind of takes your breath away.  

In the French Concession, near where the First Continental Congress met

View of the French Concession

        The French Concession now is very upscale with shopping malls and boutiques and restaurants.  It is the chic place to live in Shanghai.  How ironic that it was here that communism got it's footing.  

A sample of the small boutiques that abound in the French Concession area today

Of course, there were more snacks for the kid.
We turned back toward the hotel and decided to revisit the historic part of Shanghai.  We passed the Yu Garden, which Chuck and I had both visited and walked and tried to find some peace.  
By this time, the sun had set, and Shanghai came to life. 
Shanghai, in case you don’t know this, is the largest city by population in China and the largest city proper by population in the world with 23 million people.  It is considered a “global city,” very westernized, a major financial center and port city and the “showpiece” of China’s booming economy!  
I explained all this to Chuck, but all he seemed to care about were the lights and the continuous supply of snacks that he chomped on as we road along Shanghai’s streets.

Shanghai at night

Shanghai at night

Until . . .
I heard Chuck burp.  
And I suppose if a cat could turn pale ( as in he didn’t feel well), Chuck turned pale and had that look on his face which told me he’d eaten entirely too many snacks.  
I shook my head. “I had such plans for you tonight.  For us.  This is our last night in Shanghai.”
But the poor kid looked like he wanted to . . .
We turned the car around and headed back over the Garden Bridge, back to our temporary home at Broadway Mansions.  
Back in our hotel room, Chuck passed out, I mean fell asleep almost immediately.
And we were tuckered out, too.  

If you would like to read more about Chuck and his adventures, log onto www.katelutter.com.

My paranormal romance, Wild Point Island, is now available in paperback and ebook from amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com.


   

Peace Hotel - Part II- Time Travel

(When Chuck, the rascal cat, wanders out of the lounge area of the Peace Hotel while Bob and I are sipping our Bloody Mary’s, we panic, and there’s a mad dash for the hallway.  Bob scampers off in one direction.  I go off in the other.  My heart pounds, not daring to imagine that the poor kid may be lost forever in the hotel, in Shanghai, in China.  This is PART II of that harrowing adventure . . . Part I was posted on Monday, September 17, 2012.)

Someone taps me on the shoulder.
It’s got to be Bob holding Chuck, telling me that he didn’t go far, after all.
        I’m about to heave a welcome sigh of relief.  I turn around. 
But I’m wrong.  
The Peace Hotel is well-staffed.  A well-dressed gentleman is standing there.  He smiles and says, “Can I help you?”
I fumble with my answer, “No. I’m looking for my . . .”  I’m not stupid enough to say “cat.”  I quickly insert the correct answer, “ . . . husband. He just wandered away.  We were in the bar. Having drinks.”
The hotel attendant nods.  
“I’ll just go back there and wait for him,” I add, hoping to get rid of this smiling attendant, who nods again and finally begins to walk away. 
I almost collapse on the floor as I watch him fade into the distance.
Chuck, where are you?
Could he have returned to the bar area?
Cats are great at leaving their scent behind.  That would be the logical thing for him to do.  Follow his own scent back to where he knows we are, once he realizes he’s in a mega strange place.    
I almost run down the hall now, convinced that Chuck is in the lounge area, waiting for me, probably propped up on the chair, eating our snacks . . .  
I refuse to accept any other possibility.

And that’s when it happens.  I spot the rascal cat, slinking out of a room that leads into the hallway.  Immediately he freezes when he sees me. Guilty, no doubt.  Luckily, we’re alone in the hallway. There are things I’d like to say to this cat, but I can’t speak because my throat feels so tight it’s as if I have a noose around it, so I whisk him into my arms and shove him into my smart bag.  
At least he’s safe.  Now I have to find Bob and tell him.  
I have every intention of doing so . . . because I can only imagine the anguish Bob’s going through.  He loves Chuck as much as I love him.
Somehow I become distracted. 
The room Chuck sauntered out of seems to beckon to me.
There is a soft light flowing into the window from outside. It‘s dusk, which some overly imaginative people refer to as the witching hour.  I glance into the room, and the furnishings, even the paintings on the walls, seem to harken back to an earlier time.  
Instantly, I’m reminded of “Somewhere in Time” and the scene where Christopher Reeve visits his college professor who reluctantly tells him of a moment when he felt sure he traveled backwards into the sixteenth century.  Only for a moment when the room around him flickered and the furnishings changed.  
      Time travel.
I step into the room and walk toward the window, heavily decorated with drapes. I expect, when I gaze out, to see Nanking Road filled with pedestrian traffic and cars, part of the modern world that exists around Shanghai, China.
But even as I shift the opaque curtain aside, in my heart I know I’ll glimpse a different world. For I expect this is a very special room.  By some quirk of time and space.  
The door has been left ajar for a reason.  
Chuck wandered into it.  
I was drawn to it.  
And now . . . carefully I pull the sheer drapes aside and gaze out.
And my heart metaphorically stops.
Just for a few seconds I see the hustling and bustling Nanking Road that I’ve only glimpsed in black and white photographs.  
A Nanking Road full of color and life.  I scan the scene before me and greedily take in all the details:
      Bicycles have huge woven baskets attached to the handle bars.  A red cable car squeaks past.  Several old-fashioned looking box-shaped cars drive past with their windows down.  Large cloth signs hang from poles suspended from the buildings that line the street, advertising the storefronts, in Chinese, of course.  The large, bold lettering sways in the breeze.  Men in suits wear hats, and the ladies are all in dresses. These pedestrians are in stark contrast to the rickshaw drivers who in baggy trousers and T shirts pull their load behind them.  One rider, asleep in his conveyance, wears laced, flat leather-like shoes that resemble our modern day sneakers.  

My God.  I must be  transported back to . . . the 1930’s . . .
I hear my name and stumble away from the window.
“Bob?”
He’s standing in the doorway.  “What are you doing in here? Did you find him?”
I nod.  Should I tell him?  Should I admit that for a few seconds, I was transported back in time? No. He’ll think I’m crazy.      
“Thank God. Well, let’s go to dinner.”  That’s Bob.  Hungry.
With Chuck safely squirreled away in my smart bag, we find our way to the nearest elevator. This hotel is so posh there’s an elevator attendant waiting to push the buttons for you so you land on the right floor.  
She smiles.  “Can I help you?”
“The Dragon and the Phoenix.”
In the restaurant, we’re seated near a large picture window, but I can’t look out of that window right away.  When I do, the view of the Huangpo River is spectacular.  Boats navigate down the river.  And, yes, they are modern boats.

  My tiny foray into the past is over.  
The Peace Hotel.
Some spectacular place.
And for once, Chuck’s rascal behavior has led to a good and wonderful thing.  
The kid will get extra snacks tonight.

        To read more about Chuck, log onto www.katelutter.com

         My paranormal romance, Wild Point Island, is now available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.com in paperback and ebook format.  

Chuck Gives Peace Hotel a Chance

The magnificent Peace Hotel with its green pyramid shaped top.

The outside is only matched by its glorious interior . . .

        I’m not a political person, but this week we celebrated the eleventh anniversary of September 11th, and I remember that horrible day.  And then the American Embassy was overrun in Libya and four people were killed, including our Ambassador in what is now being called a coordinated terrorist attack.  
I thought it only fitting to focus on one place, which at least symbolically  represents by its very name, what we should all be striving towards: peace.
The Peace Hotel.
Yes, that is its real name.

This is the entrance on the Nanking Road side.  

When we were recently traveling in China, one of my obsessions was to see the Peace Hotel again. I’d stayed there eight years before, and I was determined to at least visit this hotel and see it again, for it is one of those very special places that truly takes you back in time.
But let me explain.
Years ago, there was a movie, a very popular cult classic called Somewhere in Time starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour.  Reeve, a playwright, an unhappy playwright, takes a break from his writing and decides to stay at the old Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island in Michigan.  One day he spots a photograph of a beautiful woman (Seymour) hanging in an anteroom off the lobby and immediately falls in love with her, only to discover later that she’s an actress from the turn of the century.  Undaunted, he tracks down his old college professor who believes time travel is possible.  The critical element, Reeve learns, is to find a place that actually existed in the time period you want to return to and then convince your mind that you are in that new time period by surrounding yourself visually with clues from that place in time.  Reeve is able to travel in time to Seymour and the story goes on from there.

This display case captures a bygone era.  

Walking into the Peace Hotel is like walking back in time.

I love this shot--the beautiful Art Deco style light and wall decorations ...


Located on the Bund, along the Huangpu River on Nanking Road, the busiest road in Shanghai, the Fairmont Peace Hotel was originally called the Sassoon House and housed the Cathay Hotel.
      Construction lasted from 1926 to 1929 and was begun by Sir Victor Sassoon (yes, that famous family) who made his fortune by trading for opium and weapons.  Before 1946, the Cathay Hotel was considered the most prestigious hotel in Shanghai.  After the Communist take-over, the hotel functioned as a government building, and then in 1956 it reopened for the first time as the Peace Hotel.  In 1992 it became listed as one of the famous hotels of the world by the World Hotel Association. It has become particularly known for its jazz band, which has played continuously since the 1930’s.
The Peace Hotel closed in 2007 for a three year renovation so the approximately 300 guest rooms could be modernized.  I stayed in the hotel before the renovation, and, perhaps, that’s why I felt it was so special.   I remember the exact moment I first walked into the hotel.  Jazz music was playing in the background, oddly enough.  The interior of the hotel is Art Deco, and it boasts a white marble floor and yellow walls.  So walking through the halls for the first time, I was dumbstruck by the feeling that I was walking through a time tunnel and that any moment someone would say or do something that would prove to me that somehow we’d been whisked back to the 1930’s.  Maybe that was my secret fantasy--walk down a long hallway and by the time you reach the end of it, you are back in time.  You unlock a  room and stare out the window, and sure enough, what you see in Nanking Road--the street is once again jammed packed with rickshaws and foot traffic and all signs of innovation and modern technology are gone.
Midnight in Paris?  No, early evening in Shanghai.  
           When we first arrive at the Peace Hotel, this time, Bob and I and a reluctant Chuck wander around for a bit and then head to the lounge, the bar and order two Bloody Mary’s.  We are too early for the Jazz Band and our plan is to have a drink and then head upstairs for dinner at the Dragon and the Phoenix, one of the eight restaurants in the hotel. 

This is the bar/lounge area where the jazz music is played and where Bob and I sat with Chuck.

But we savor every moment of our time in the lounge area and realize that the decor probably hasn’t changed much in close to eighty years.  We are the only ones in the lounge so when the friendly bartender scoots out, we’re free to relax and sip our drinks. Chuck is sulking.  He didn’t want to come to the Peace Hotel.  Not a fan.  So break one of my cardinal rules and let him go free to sniff around and explore.  
“Just give the Peace Hotel a chance, okay?”
Yes, there are no cats allowed, but I get the feeling with this place, that even if Chuck were spotted, we’d be given a frown and then time to scoop him up and head for the door.  
Everything is elegant and old world.
        Of course, I’ve filled Chuck in on the history of the place.  And although the kid likes being outside, a place like this with all the different smells will hopefully keep him busy for awhile.  And, frankly, Bob and I get lost in the atmosphere.  
We’re both movie buffs and can easily imagine all the people who sat in this room over the decades--the dresses of the women, the music that played, the dancing, the drinking.  It’s almost as if you could close your eyes and then open them and see another time, another place . . .
“Chuck.  Where the hell is Chuck?”
From out of nowhere, I realize that Chuck is missing.  He has wandered out of the lounge.  Followed his sniffing nose . . . somewhere . . . who the hell knows where.
I easily panic when it comes to the kid.  
And he is like a kid.  
He’ll get totally lost in the moment.  
Bob and I leave our delicious drinks behind, rush to the door.  
“You go that way.  I’ll go this way.”  There’s a hallway.  He could only have gone one way or the other.  “Meet back here.”
We scamper away, and I can feel my heart pounding. I won’t even allow myself to think about the impossibility of trying to find a cat lost in the Peace Hotel.  Lost in Shanghai.  Lost in China. 
I may never see him again.
And what were my last words?  Give the Peace Hotel a chance? 

         Stay tuned for Part 2 of Chuck Gives Peace Hotel a Chance to be posted on Sunday, September 23, 2012.