Beko Mochi

July hasn’t been the most blog friendly month, and for that, I’m sorry!  Turns out that getting ready to leave the country to return home, at the busiest time of the school year, has made for less time waxing poetic on the internets.  Please forgive.  I’ll try to get in some last interesting tidbits of Japanese culture and thoughts on leaving within the next couple weeks.  Stay tuned.

////////////////////////////////

Japan, as you might know, is big into sweets.  In addition, Japanese people enjoy several textures otherwise not valued in the Western world.  That of mochi-mochi, hoku-hoku, and neba-neba. (Oh! How I love Japanese onomatopoeia!)  These texture descriptors roughly translate respectively to: springy and chewy (like omochi); technically “not soggy” but I consider it more fluffy (like a baked sweet potato eaten hot with butter); and slimey and gooey (like natto – fermented soybeans – or overcooked okra).  This mochi-mochi aesthetic is very apparent, as almost every region in Japan has their own form or preferred style of making omochi.  Here in Aomori’s Shimokita, they make Beko mochi which is, more than anything, just a way to make something mediocre tasting look pretty!

Mixing the Mochi

Creating the design, part by part

I’ve been given countless gifts of beko mochi in the past year, but I had yet to make it.  Turned out, though, that one of my ikebana ladies is a beko mochi master, and offered to give me a crash course in the production.  Instead of making beko mochi from cooked mochi rice (a sweeter, smaller grain of white rice), it’s made with equal parts mochi flour, regular flour, and then some white sugar.  These ingredients are then mixed together by adding hot water until they form a sticky, heavy lump – not unlike play-dough.  Then small amounts of colored powder are mixed in to create different colors.  These colors are rolled out into logs or snakes (think sculpy) and by way of good memory, mind expansion, and magic are twisted, combined, flattened, and smushed into a cohesive design.  These examples are mostly cherry blossom flowers, but I’ve seen everything from irises, daisies, and cartoon characters.  The final log is then sliced thinly and steamed before being eaten.

Move over best gfs in America - my soulmate might just be this loudmouthed, 60+, Japanese dance teacher with 4 dogs

Wait for it...almost there...

Truth be told, it’s not the most delicious sweet. (A little beko mochi goes a long way in sitting in your belly.) But it’s a pretty cool process and very particular to my region.  I doubt that anyone outside of the prefecture has even heard of it, except now of course, my loyal American audience.

Ta Da!

Read Full Post »

Golden Week//China: Part I

Beijing
Three hours, one in-flight meal, and three-quarters of a movie after departing Tokyo, Ellie and I arrived in Beijing’s international airport on a balmy Friday afternoon.  It took awhile for it to set in, but it became pretty apparent that we weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Welcome to Beijing!

Beijing seems to be a city in transition.  Unlike Tokyo, Beijing is a sprawling, smoggy city, built perpetually out out out, rather than up up up.  The streets alternate between wide, multi-laned avenues humming with four- and two-wheeled traffic, and tiny cobbled alleys in the older hutong traditional neighborhoods.  These, too, are teeming with cars and bikes, often impeding pedestrian traffic.  There are Western influenced grand, stone parliament buildings and hotels that take up wide city blocks, McDonalds and KFCs rubbing shoulders with Rolex advertisements, and sharp-looking businessmen stepping into their Audis.  Walk a few blocks and you are dodging bicycles and sidewalk trash, being beckoned from nearby shops with choruses of “Pretty lady, you buy shoes? silk? necklace?”  A few more, and you are in one of Beijing’s stunning parks, watching retirees flow through their Tai Chi exercises, or young Beijingers holding hands and looking amorous (a site not often witnessed in reserved and modest Japan).  The delicious smells of the street-cart food stalls mingle frequently with the public toilet odors in many of the hutongs, assaulting the senses every couple feet.  Beijing may be in transition, but nothing about it is subtle.

A busy, commercial district

A quiet, residential hutong in a different part of the city

As for sites, we did all the required ones: Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, the Temple of Heaven, and a few other “lesser” temples and parks.  The largest public square in China (…maybe even the world?), Tiananmen Square was the seat from which Mao Zedong proclaimed the People’s Republic in 1949, and is also, apparently, the most heavily guarded and patrolled site in China.  We arrived at sunset, along with countless other Chinese who were enjoying their evening strolling around, flying kites in the wind, and snapping photos of Mao’s iconic portrait.  The Forbidden City, which lies directly north of Tiananmen Square took up an entire morning of ambling.  Although we tried to go on a Saturday, we discovered crowds so thick and hectic (due to the weekend being one of China’s national holidays), that we were forced to return later in the week.  When we did return, however, it was worth the slog through the other tourists.  The Forbidden City is huge, and fascinating.  Long ago the seat of power for the emperors and empresses of the Ming and Qing Dynasties, it houses temples, squares, public receiving halls, gardens, as well as rows upon rows of low-roofed, brightly-shingled buildings that housed the royalty, and all those employed under the crown.  For years it was off-limits to the inferior citizenry.

In the summer months, when the heat of the city became unbearable, however, the royalty would escape to the Summer Palace, on the shores of a mandmade lake in the northwest of the city.  While the architecture and the grounds of the Summer Palace were extraordinary (it includes a man-made island in the middle of the lake to which the Empress banished the Emperor, like some lavish order of sleeping on the couch), I found it difficult to appreciate it to its full extent.  It was as crowded as the L train on a rainy Monday morning.  As packed as an outdoor music festival during the headlining show.  As teeming as the crosswalks of Shibuya on a Saturday night.  It was a mess.

Mao, above the Gate of Heavenly Peace - one of the entrances into the Forbidden City

In the maze of the Forbidden City

Summer Palace - don't let the relative calm of this photo deceive you. This place was teeming.

Impressive though these aforementioned sites were, the Temple of Heaven was my favorite.  In the southeastern quadrant of Beijing, the Temple of Heaven is exactly as the name suggests: a Temple for communicating with the Heavens.  The temples themselves are ornate and beautiful, but the draw, for me, was more in the grounds and the people using them.  Perhaps a boon of communism, but Beijing’s retirees seem to live a life of leisure and luxury.  Free admittance into anywhere in the city for those over sixty, the Temple of Heaven was the hot-spot for the mature crowd.  They gathered to play any number of games I’d never seen or heard of (variations of hacky-sack with a ‘birdy’ with rings and feathers; toss involving rings and landing them over your partners’ neck; Tai Chi groups or singles undulating among the trees) and solitary old men writing Chinese calligraphy with walking-stick sized paintbrushes and water along the sidewalks.  It seemed to me everything that a Chinese park should be.

The Temple of Heaven - in ancient Chinese times, circular shapes signified Heaven, while squares symbolized Earth

You can see the funny birdy in the bottom right corner. I brought one home with me, and plan to spread the craze to America soon.

Solitary lady flowing with her Chi

Other highlights of our trip included renting bikes for a day and cruising around the city.  Because Beijing is so flat and laid out in a straightforward grid pattern, navigating was pretty simple.  Dodging traffic and potholes, on the other hand, proved to be a bit more nerve wracking.  We were also able to check out the Confucius Temple and the Imperial College, lesser tourist attractions and therefore delightfully peaceful after a crazy day biking.  On the other end of the architectural spectrum, we made a point to visit the famous Bird’s Nest arena, built specifically for the 2008 Beijing Olympics.  The whole complex (Bird’s Nest, pool, waterfront, nearby hotels and accommodation) is truly staggering.  It is new, clean, bright, big, and streamlined.  A subway line – albeit four stops long – was built specifically for the Olympic games.  We chose to visit at night and were rewarded with a much cooler ambiance that what I would expect during a blazing hot day with no shade.  And lest you think what squares we are for doing all the typical tourist stuff, we also spent a great afternoon at the Midi Festival, Beijing’s kick-off summer music festival, showcasing mainly Chinese bands and DJs but also a few lesser-known names from Europe and the US.  It was fun getting to experience the Chinese youth and subculture, with everyone rocking out their best festival wear.

A view of the main building within the Imperial College, which sits adjacent to the Confucius Temple

Que Olympic song....now.

At the big stage of the Midi Festival, about to hear some (mediocre) band from Russia

And how can I talk about a trip to China with no mention of food, yet?  Well, I can’t.  Where to even begin?  Let me start, though, by saying that Ellie and I truly lucked out.  Rather than left to fend for discovering everything ourselves (which we did pretty damn well I must say), we were hooked up for a day by a friend of Poppa Seltz and got the local’s tour treatment by his nephew and his lovely wife, two cool kids our own age.  Not only did they show us around the Temple of Heaven, but also introduced us to a typical Beijing breakfast of pastry-type breads and some foul-smelling fermented soy bean soup, and to real, honest-to-god, delicious Szechuan cuisine.  I have never tasted better shrimp and peanuts, or cubed and fried chicken cooked with mounds of red chillis in my life.  Peking Duck, treated by Poppa Seltz’ friend Mr. Li, also lived up to every expectation I had.  Did you know that the crispy duck skin with it’s juicy, buttery layer of fat should be dipped in sugar first?  It changed my opinion of this fowl forever, and I was already a fan!  Street food, too, pulled through when we needed it.  Cold, spicy, sesame noodles on a hot day; mini, steamed pork buns for breakfast; a pineapple or a coconut full of coconut water for a quick pick-me-up; a beansprout and cabbage filled burrito.  And there were still so many things left to try!

Scorpions and seahorses on a stick: Next time!

Ellie waiting for some noodles from a street vendor

An authentic Szechuan feast with our new friends Si Si and Zhongyuan. (Si Si would know, she's from Szechuan province!)

I’ll leave you here on that tasty note.  Check back soon for Part II: our Great Wall trip, and for a more cohesive wrap-up on this last little excursion of mine.

Read Full Post »

The Month of Brownies

Gift giving is an well-meaning, complicated, and rewarding obligation cultural practice here in Japan.  But just sometimes, it can get you into a spot of trouble.

A month or two ago, I brought a pan-full of Ghiradelli Brownie Mix brownies to share with my Ikebana class one night, which anyone who has tasted a Ghiradelli brownie knows, was a huge success.  It was/is particularly momentous for those individuals who are unaccustomed to the amazingness that is the quintessential American “brownie.”  When told how delicious they were, however, I made the mistake of playing off how easy they were to make, which, obviously, 2 eggs and a 1/2 cup of vegetable oil later, they were.  But, the more my ikebana ladies fawned, the more I knew I had dug myself into a deep hole.  A hole filled with butter and sugar and cocoa powder.  Weeks later, what had started as harmless requests for the recipe, soon turned into more forceful pleas for me to pick a date for them to come over to learn how to MAKE the brownies.  And thus commenced The Month of Brownies.

Like many people I know, up until a month ago, I had never made a batch of brownies from scratch.  I envisioned long recipes with fancy chocolate, thermometers, constant stirring and melting temperatures hovering just below burning.  But, not to be uncovered in my lie, I made it my goal to find the perfect, most delicious, home-made brownie recipe ever made, using the easiest of tactics.  (As a side note, I cook.  I don’t bake.  Baking generally requires a knowledge of math and ratios, which annoys me, and following recipes too exactly, which I shun on principle.)  However, four recipes and six pans of brownies later, I discovered a brownie so perfect, so moist and chocolaty dense on the inside, so crackly and crisp on the crust, so balanced between the sweetness in the sugar and the slight bitter earthiness of the cocoa that all other brownies pale in comparison.  I have found my signature brownie recipe.  And damn, it’s delicious.

And so it came to pass that this Saturday was Judgement Day.  My ikebana ladies arrived, or rather, descended upon me, hoisting far too much food (sweet, sticky rice with beans and chestnuts; hijiki seaweed salad; pork and sweet potato stew; whole marinated baby squid!) and proceeded to don their aprons and stand in my kitchen expectantly.  They took careful notes as I explained measurements (which I had calculated into metric grams for them) and the order of mixing.  They tasted and felt consistency and texture.  They asked me what the recipe would be without chocolate.  Well, it certainly wouldn’t be a Brownie, now, would it?

One of my goals for myself was to befriend the old(er) ladies in my town, and seeing them in my living room, I can say that I have been succesful in that endeavor.

In the end, I passed with flying colors, and am perhaps a better person knowing how to make Brownies from scratch.  So, to add to my list of mix CDs, homemade chili and cornbread, and girls who exercise for health (more on that in another post), I’m doing my job of internationalizing rural Japan one sweet, chocolate-filled day at a time.

The magic's in the metal pan

Read Full Post »

Funori Tori

“Please come to school by 7:30 tomorrow.  And bring rain boots.  No, you don’t have rain boots? [Pause.] What did you do all winter? [Pause.] No, rain boots. They will get wet.  What size are your feet? Okay, we will arrange something. [Pause.]  Okay. See you tomorrow.  Goodbye.”

The phone rings again: “Oh yes, and bring gloves. Yes. Bring gloves, and dress like it’s winter.”

Everyone preparing to divide and conquer

Thus commenced my foray into the foraging of funori, a type of carageenan seaweed that is described as a “jelly seaweed” when googled.  It grows on rocks off the shore of northern Japan, and therefore is a specialty to this region.  As you can see from the photos, it varies in color from dark purplish brown to bright orange, and can be short and skinny or long and balloon-fat.  It’s particularly tasty added to a miso soup.

Lone little obaachan in the shallows

I arrived at school extra early on Thursday to get to the pickin’ site with the other teachers, and with enough time to set up a big fire barrel for the purposes of cooking our delicious ‘picnic’ lunch, and to wait for the students.  Every year, the elementary schools in my town have a funori tori (picking) day, where students and parents alike volunteer.  All the seaweed collected is cleaned and then either sold fresh or dried, with proceeds going to the school, typically raking in between $2-3,000.  Think bake sale, but not.

A close-up of some long, orange specimens

The day was cold.  In fact, it even snowed a bit.  (Hello? April?) But the weather here moves so quickly that we were able to enjoy a few moments of sunshine now and again as we tromped around the shallows, scraping the rocks bare with our gloved hands, and shoving fistfuls of funori into baskets or large sacks tied around our waists.

Look at this cool new friend I found!

Potato and pork stew on the beach for lunch

After a hearty and delicious, warm lunch, the kids and most of the parents were sent home, while the teachers and a select few of the funori tori veterans went on to the processing station at the port in my town.  There, we dumped in big cargo baskets of the funori into ice-cold water and washed it “clean” with rubber-gloved hands.  Post-soak and -strain, we picked through it manually looking for bits of other seaweed, trash, or errant snails.  In total, over the coarse of several hours, we harvest 350 kilograms of funori from the coasts of Kazamaura, destined for shops around the prefecture, and perhaps beyond.  If anyone fancies a taste, for a small fee, I have considered starting an exporting business to broaden the plump little reaches of funori fingers the world over!  And how delectable!

Washing/picking through the sea gifts

The end result

Read Full Post »

Spring Break Kazama! or the Week in Numbers

This past week, and up until Wednesday, is Spring Break in Japan.  On Wednesday, the new school year begins.  Instead of taking paid vacation leave, I elected to stay in town and have a low-key, quiet week of work returning emails, studying Japanese, and preparing for the new semester.  Turns out, that was a pipe-dream.

1: Day off

4: Days at the Nursery School

There are few things in the world cuter than a Japanese little girl

3: Bloody noses to deal with on the first day

5: Kanchos* all week

14: Portraits drawn of yours truly

That's me, on the left

89: Times I’ve had to say “Please stop pulling on me.”

95: Times I’ve had to say “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

15: Easter eggs dyed, decorated, and consumed

Easter egg dying with the Panda Class (pre-1st grade)

1: Time given a shoulder rub and kissed on the cheek

2: The total number of foreign people Gin-kun has ever seen

6: The total number of times I’ve been informed of this

12: Times I’ve thought to myself how amazing it is that these women have the energy to do this every day for work

8: Minutes during lunch time I listened to a 5-year old tell me how cool smoking cigarettes is (disturbing)

6.51: Hours of sleep I’ve averaged

16: The number of home-made gyoza I ate at a Gyo-Pa (Gyoza Party) with some of my fellow teacher lady friends from one of my Elementary schools

3 different types of gyoza: Regular minced pork & veggie, Minced pork with shiso & cheese, Minced pork with celery & shrimp

11: Hours of driving to see friends and go skiing (over the course of 3 days)

Last couple runs of the season at Mt. Hakkoda

60: Minutes of karaoke we sang at 1:30am on Saturday night

40: Minutes it took me to drag myself out of bed the next morning

13: Degrees Celsius that the weather topped out at yesterday (read: Spring has sprung!)

*A kancho for the uninitiated, means ‘enema’ and is a shockingly invasive attack on your rear end.  Kids will clasp their hands together, index finger pointed menacingly and aim at the unsuspecting victim whilst gleefully shouting “Kancho!” It’s real, and it’s happened to me.

Read Full Post »

Happy Girls’ Day!

Today, March 3rd, in Japan is Girls’ Day, called Ohina Matsuri.  It’s a celebration of girls and daughters, especially for their health, growth and happiness over the coming year.  In a country that is sometimes fingered for being a *little* misogynistic, I am happy to give credit and respect where it is due.

Seven-tiered Ohina-sama set - definitely the bigger the set, the more of a status symbol it is. Also, many Japanese homes are so short on space that only the Prince and Princess are purchased and/or laid out yearly

From the top: the Prince and Princess, Maids-in-waiting, Wise men/Body guards, Court Musicians

As a little girl, we had one of these beautiful sets given to my mother from her mother (as is the custom).  Unwrapping the delicate dolls every year, their porcelain faces each painted so differently from one another, their clothes so sparkly and tactile, I remember being mesmerized – and not a little unafraid of doing damage to their fragile hands.  They each came with their own miniature hats, musical instruments, kendo swords or archery bows, and tea ladles.  Like Christmas probably was – and is – to other young children, the house during March always seemed magical and festive.  I was happy to see the sets around here this year, and that my awe and general impression hasn’t changed much since I was seven.

To celebrate, last night I attended an Ohina-sama Party at the house of my ikebana sensei.  Presented in her beautiful and spacious genkan (foyer) was a gorgeous vase of peach blossoms, the official Ohina-sama tree.  (You might remember this from last week’s ikebana post.) Yet again, the youngest by about forty years, the ladies gathered to marvel at our Sensei‘s dolls, eat sushi, and drink ama-zake (sweet, unfiltered sake.)  The evening kicked off with everyone singing an Ohina-sama song and what ensued was general gossip, ruckus, and merriment, as at any ‘Girls’ Night Out’ the world over.  As I’m constantly reminded in small and unsmall ways, some things are different.  And some things are the same.

Ohina-sama Party crew! And check out the spread. Yum.

Read Full Post »

Obento Mama

This blog is not a food site.  Neither is it an obento site.  I’ll leave that to the many, many other blogs out there on the interweb.  However, being in Japan, and loving food as I do, it’s nigh impossible to spend a year without mentioning the glory-praise-on-high that is the Japanese obento.  While Japanese food in and of itself is pretty dericious, the obento is a great example of Japanese cooking gone right…or at least can be.

A traditional Japanese obento is made for lunch, and probably was conceived at 5am by the overworked and under-appreciated matriarch of the household.  They sell cute little obento sets everywhere, but mainly they are comprised of two sections: a starch section (read: rice) and an okazu section (read: sides).  The stress is not only on the food inside, but on the placement and aesthetic of the food.  Portions are small – pretty much sample size – and almost exclusively placed in little mini cupcake wrappers to separate them from one another.  The outside package is also subjected to scrutiny, wrapped in furoshiki, Japanese all-purpose cloths, or in obento specific bags.  Online, there are numerous web sites devoted to the obento, and in Japan, there are cooking shows on TV, as well as cookbooks and cookbook authors who focus solely on this portable lunch meal.

I, the heathen American that I am, rarely bring my lunch in such cute obento forms.  I prefer the previous night’s meal in a tupperware or a sandwich when truly lazy.  However, the lucky heathen that I am, at one of my schools I have somehow managed to work my way into the heart of the school nurse, who has become my “Obento Mama.”  She says that it’s because her son is all grown up and it’s lonely to make obento for one, but I personally think that she enjoys seeing if I’ll eat some of the “weird” Japanese stuff she puts in. Regardless of the reasoning, I will graciously take and happily eat any food she sends my way!

On my desk in the morning....hmmm....what's this?

Oh look, another cute wrapping!

The Obento Box - the epitome of Japanesey with bunnies and cherry blossoms

Cha-ching! What you see here: below, Rice topped with funori (a form of seaweed that is special to Northern Japan), above, from left to right: sweet pinto beans, gobo (burdock root in a spicy, sesame sauce), strawberries, croquets, squid, and an egg salad

Read Full Post »

Tea Ceremony or 茶道の会 (Sadou no Kai)

One of the events I had on my radar upon returning to Kazamaura was joining a tea group for their Oshougatsu (New Year’s) ceremony.  On that first snowy and blustery Saturday morning of my return, we piled into the Beast for the hour-long trek to Mutsu.  At the tea ceremony Sensei’s (teacher’s) house, we were ushered into the tatami room, called a washitsu, and stripped and dressed in the cotton, summer yukata we had brought.  All the ladies, of whom there were six, were all dressed in beautiful winter, silk kimonos, with glittery obi – reserved for special, joyful occasions, such as holidays or weddings.

Round I server sitting with the Sensei around the hearth

The tea ceremony took place in two parts. It began with an incredibly elaborate entrance into the room.  We all lined up outside of the room, entered in sliding on our knees, bowed, walked purposefully (yet daintily) to the altar, examined the hanging scroll and the ikebana arrangement, bowed, walked purposefully to the tea altar, examined the ceramics, bowed, passed the entering person, bowed, and seated ourselves around the perimeter of the room on our knees.  (Not unlike the rest of Japanese culture, you will notice that there is a lot of bowing going on here.)  Then, before the tea drinking itself even began there was the ceremony of rekindling the fire (literally a depression in the floor usually covered by the tatami, but in which one is able to light a fire in the floor of the house); all this done with slender, long chopsticks.

Seated around the room

In the tea ceremony part, one person from the group acts as the tea server.  Simply, she sits by the fire, and whisks the tea into bowl-sized matcha cups.  More complicatedly, there is an exact way of adding, holding, stirring, and cleaning of everything that she must remember and to which she must strictly adhere.  While the server is preparing, the rest of the group passes around sweets and eats them.  The first sweet was a white anko (bean) cake.  Then, starting from the end of the line of “drinkers,” one lady rises to retrieve the cup from which she and the next three participants will drink. The tea is drank in a certain way, bowl shifted first 30 degrees, then back another 30 degrees, wiped, passed to the left, bow, etc.  This is repeated down the line.  At the end of the drinking, the bowls, tea holder, and scoop are then passed down the line and examined in a specific way.  The head “drinker” then asks the server a series of questions regarding where the pottery came from, where the tea came from and what kind it is, and the origin of the sweets.

There was a brief intermission, in which it felt really good to stretch my legs.  Sitting on your knees, or even in a ladylike knees-t0-the-side position, is downright painful for an hour.  Not having been trained since birth, it’s one of the very obvious differences between foreign women and Japanese women.  The second tea part was more or less the same as the first, except the quality of the tea and sweets was a little less fancy.  In Round II, the tea was a thinner variety and the sweets were essentially glorified sugar cubes in the shape of storks and fans.

I will say this about tea ceremony: the ritual of it is beautiful, but it is also unbelievably, even maddeningly, precise.  Many of the women in the group have been doing this for over ten years.  And yet they still make mistakes!  (i.e. They turn the bowl left, instead of right.  Or they fold a cloth the wrong way.  Or they sweep the hearth in five strokes, instead of four.) I surmise that they are also so afraid and hesitant to make mistakes that it often makes them fumble more.

Normally, the meetings end after the tea ceremony part, but since this day was the New Year’s party, we stayed on for lunch, which were these exquisitely prepared obentos, full of sashimi, tempura, vegetables, and fruit.  My favorite part of the meal, however, was a local Shimokita dish, called keiran.  Similar to ozoni, which most Japanese people eat at New Year’s, this dish was a sweet anko-filled omochi cake, in a salty vegetable/dashi broth, on a bed of soba noodles.

New Year's Party Obento: Tempura, Sashimi, various fish, vegetables, and fruit

Keiran: Shimokita Peninsula New Year's Delicacy

Hopped up on caffeine, drunk on food, and hobbling from sitting in seiza so long, we stumbled home to nurse our Japanese culture hangovers.  Sounds like New Year’s to me…

Read Full Post »

Tako Time

…and by which I mean, octopus.

Perhaps a sign of my going native, but at the time, it didn’t seem like that unusual of a gift.  Why should it?  I’ve already received squid, abalone, fresh salmon roe, and sea urchin in the past six months.  If not still squirming, then at least newly deceased. Also, I can gut a fish and prepare it several ways with the head still intact.  Small achievements, but achievements nonetheless!

So anyway, today’s tako time happened like this: At one of my elementary schools, someone, presumably a parent, dropped off several boxes full of octopus as gifts for the teachers.  I, in turn, received one of these bags of octopus, assured that it was just the “feet” and told to go home, rinse it in hot water, slice it up and eat it sashimi style with some ginger and soy sauce. Now, I don’t dislike octopus, in fact tako yaki (little fried balls of dough with pieces of octopus inside, eaten with Kewpie mayo, tonkatsu fruit sauce, and fresh ginger is delicious!) but to have to simply take on a couple pounds of octopus in my kitchen, suction cups still functioning, was not necessarily part of my evening plans.  I am, however, banking on taking it to our nabe* party tomorrow night and having a Japanese friend take care of it for me….after all, why bring the teacher an apple when you can bring her half an octopus instead?

*Nabe (pronounced na-bé) is a hot pot dish that Japanese people LOVE in winter.  It’s made in a big earthenware hot pot, on a table-top gas stove.  There are many different kinds of nabe but basically it’s comprised of lots of veggies, some sort of meat or protein, and a flavoring for the soup, such as miso, kombu/dashi, or soysauce.  Some types of nabe include Seafood Nabe, Kimchee Nabe, Genghis Khan nabe (mutton and vegetables), Beautiful Nabe (only for women, and infused with collagen and collagen rich food to make your skin “glow”), and Italian Nabe (the only difference is that it has tomato juice in it).  It’s pretty delicious and a nice way to spend an evening hanging out with friends, preferably under a kotatsu, a heated floor table with blankets to cover your feet, sipping on beer or sake in the winter.

Read Full Post »

Thailand

My two weeks in Thailand were sunny, warm, fun, delicious, challenging, eye-opening, and all together, just what I needed.  While it’s always a little hard to be away from family and friends during the holidays, exploring a new – and awesome – country helped in abating my lonesomeness for home.  The trip also came at a good time, when the grey days of Shimokita were slowly but surely wearing me down and the kerosene from my heater had taken up residence in my chest as a nasty cough.  (Incidentally, this caused everyone to force masks on me whenever I entered a building.  Funny, because it’s true.)

Although there were certainly moments I wished that I had a companion to share in the absurdity, admiration, or humor of a situation, I definitely took to traveling alone like a fish to water.  I got to do what I wanted, when I wanted, depending on how I felt.  It was grand.  I also came to realize that traveling, especially alone, in a foreign speaking country really requires one major thing on the part of the traveler: letting go.  You have to be okay with not knowing exactly what’s happening and why at any given time.  This is a hard mental shift for someone like me, but probably a good exercise in character in the smaller scheme of travel and the bigger scheme of life.

Stepping off the plane into the December Bangkok heat felt like an August day in DC.  Almost instantly, my whole body relaxed.  No longer did I have to shiver myself warm.  I found Bangkok to be beautiful, balmy, hectic, pungent, and colorful.  My hotel was adequate and clean – in a convenient part of town, with a big open air restaurant for my complimentary breakfasts.  I spent my time in Bangkok exploring mostly on foot or by way of the river and canal boat taxis – the Grand Palace, which houses the enormous gold reclining Buddha (I spent more time examining and admiring the minute paintings of the Buddha’s life covering the 30 foot walls floor-to-ceiling); Wat Arun, a rather phallic temple on the far side of the river nestled in sparkling mosaic tiles; the Chatuchuk Weekend Market, an incredible maze of shops and stalls, grouped together based on wares (pet supplies, fake flowers, electronics, young designers, Thailand tourist tchotchkes); the midnight Flower Market, heaps and heaps of the most kaleidescopic wholesale floral displays; the ultra-modern and sleek downtown, centered around high-rise consumer-driven shopping malls and a convenient above-ground Sky Train system; China town; a refreshingly ungentrified China town, streets so packed with open-air food vendors and tables that the traffic nearly stops.  And the food! Oh, the food!

Reclining Buddha

Wat Arun

Flower vendors at night watching TV

 

Downtown Bangkok: Skytrain + ubiquitous traffic. *Note the pink taxis!

The street food was by far the best bet no matter where I was in Thailand.  Red and green and yellow curries; wide chewy rice noodles; slippery vermicelli noodles; spicy chicken and pork soups that you could pile high with fresh vegetables and herbs (wing beans, cucumbers, bean sprouts, pickled cabbage, dill, basil, mint…) – beware the offal and chicken feet version, though…; papaya salads; mango sticky rice; all manners of protein on sticks; little, sweet coconut milk pancakes topped with corn or chocolate.  There were fruit vendors on every corner hawking all sorts of exotic fruits (from delicious mangoes to durian to rambutan and tamarinds).   Thailand, it turns out, is a gourmand’s heaven.  Especially after the relatively spice-less Japanese diet, some heat did my taste buds good.

Street Cart Pad Thai - first night dinner

Crunchy young mango, with sugar & chilis

Durian Cart

China Town street dining al fresco

From Bangkok, I traveled south via Krabi to Ko Phi-Phi, the island famous for hosting Leonardo DiCaprio and his movie “The Beach.”  Ko Phi-Phi was certainly breathtaking, but was far too touristy and resort-filled for my tastes.  While I will admit that I, too, was a tourist in Thailand, there are many different breeds of tourist, and the one I found in Ko Phi-Phi smacked of Spring Break Cancun 2009!   In all, not my thing, and though I had a great time meeting up with a couple pals from Japan who were also there at the time, I could’ve skipped it altogether in favor of the next spot on my trip.

Phi-Phi: Longtails on the beach

View from "The Beach" & our longtail boat

Back on the mainland, I traveled to Ton Sai Beach, a section of Rai Leh peninsula, only accessible by a 10 minute long-tail boat ride from a neighboring town.  I found Ton Sai to be everything that Phi-Phi was not.  In fact, even arriving at dusk, after a hectic and round-about day of travel with an increasingly heavy pack on my back, I could breathe a sigh of relief.  Where Phi-Phi was paved streets, neon tourist shops and  sleek Swedish restaurants, Ton Sai was sandy paths from the beach into the mosquito-filled interior, delicious and cheap cart food, and quiet bungalows nestled among the hills.  My cabin was up the mountain, with a fan purring on the ceiling, bats cooing under the eaves at night, and little green geckos slurping around the walls.  The view from my balcony was that of jungles and cliffs and deep blue sky.  Ton Sai was literally dripping with climbers.  With more than a hundred set routes all over the peninsula, it’s a rock climber’s wet dream.  Many of the other travelers I met were there for several months, at least, climbing every day, relaxing at night.  I found it easy to find people willing to trade belays and meet for some morning beach yoga sessions – both of which satisfied some goals I had for my trip.  And, in the end, I’m glad I spent New Year’s listening to reggae-ton and oldies at a bar at the beach, watching beautiful paper white lanterns filled with kerosene heat and wishes float off into the ether, rather than being assaulted by electronica and glow sticks at Phi-Phi.

Ton Sai: Yoga Morning

Ton Sai: Yoga before a day of climbing and beaching

Ton Sai: Climbers starting their day

Ton Sai: the sun sets on 2009

Hesitant to leave,  my next stop was Khao Lak, Thailand, a beach town on the north west of Thailand’s southern leg.  Mostly used as a jump-off point for scuba diving trips into the Surin or Similan National Park Islands  (candidates for UNESCO Natural World Heritage Site status), that was exactly what I did, making good use of the PADI license I earned forever ago.  I joined a 3-day, 3-night live-aboard trip into the Surins.  Unfortunately, I damaged my ear on one of the first dives, and could only do half of the 9 total dives, unable to get down to even 10 to 15 of the 30 meters max we were diving.  The dives that I did partake in, though, were breathtaking – all sorts of fishies (the parrot fish are my favorite), nudibranches, shrimps, bulging-eyed stingrays, tons of graceful turtles, jelly-fish, and reef sharks.  Every dive was followed by a delicious Thai meal cooked by the Thai staff on the boat, maybe some beach time on one of the pristine islands, or some relaxing boat time, reading and swaying in the waves.  Pretty rough life.

Sea Dragon MV Mariner - the boat

Surin Island Number...9?

Hangin out on the boat between dives

Surin Island Number...7?

I was impressed at my own planning and forethought, too, to realize that the nicest and cushiest accommodation I’d booked during the whole trip (at a whopping 34USD!) was right after my return to shore, after several days of sea-water bathing and a rocking cabin.  (Though, the night I slept on the top deck under the stars beat any hotel room I had the entire time!)  The comfort was short-lived, however, as I soon found myself on a creaking and cranky 12 hour, 2nd class night bus to Bangkok, 24 hours after arriving on dry land.  (One of the most convenient things about being a small and flexible person is the ease with which I can get comfy curled up in even the most uncomfortable scenarios.  And the fact that big things, obviously, come in small packages.)

The national flower of Thailand

The beach at Khao Lak, waiting for my night bus back to Bangkok

Bangkok Round II was mostly a wrap up of last minute gift shopping and of checking off the list some stuff I ran out of time for the first visit.  I ended my Thailand adventure with a delicious dinner at an unassuming, hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, and a $6 ticket into a stadium-seating, Dolby surround sound, HD Sherlock Holmes movie (the first new movie I’ve seen since July) on the 1oth floor of some high-rise mall.  And, in typical Thai fashion, seamlessly blending the ultra-modern with patriotic history and culture, we stood as the national anthem played over a montage of His Highness, King Bhumibol Adulyadej.

 

Street cart durian baby

Luxe and cheap movie experience. For 1st Class tickets you get: snack, dinner, and drinks + entrance into the 1st class lounge an hour before showtime + the loveseat option + slippers & blankies all for your viewing pleasure.

Read Full Post »