TravelStream™ news feed for member mighty_atom on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/mighty_atom en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sat, 01 Mar 2008 13:03:58 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mighty_atom/1/1200753960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mighty_atom/1/1200753960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/mighty_atom/1/1200753960/tpod.html Sat, 01 Mar 2008 13:03:58 -0500 Ceremonial Tea in two countries

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Penang, Malaysia

Jet lag can sometimes be a help rather than a hindrance. The day of the ceremony I even managed to squeeze some Tai Chi in before the customary wedding beautification.

It was the unfortunate lot of C the hairdresser and her partner the make-up artist to turn this beast into beauty. They eyed up my tiny Oriental eyes, uneven complexion and limp hair then exclaimed in Hokkien "Waah bet all you know how to do is work!". Hey! That's not true.. I can cook too! But as far as make up and hair is concerned I have always been special needs.

I squirmed uneasily as they circled me debating what "look" would suit the dramatic Kwa. In an instant it was decided and they pounced. My skin was evened out and plastered smooth, lips thinned, cheeks highlighted. I closed my eyes then opened them to find a long lashed Panda blinking back in disbelief. Ah well there are consequences to being a make-up retard. Next it was the hair. Too dry, too much, too heavy went the litany of good humoured complaints.. hang on a second I'm paying for this abuse? To be fair it wasn't the first time I had heard these comments. It's a mark of a true professional that they know when to cut their losses and adopt a new strategy. With 20 minutes to go the weight of my hair rebelled against their chosen style and they defaulted to the French Pleat. I changed in 5 minutes flat to a chorus of "Why u so thin?" and now if my left fake lash would just stay on for the next few hours...

M looked dashing if rather over heated in his maroon silk mandarin jacket and dark trousers. He was sent to meet and escort me from the lifts. We made our entry to cheers and a sea of faces so many of whom I did not recognise. It has been 20 years in all. And so began the serving of tea. Informal doesn't quite describe the ceremony.. ad libbed was much closer to the truth.

Two cream covered dining chairs were set out. Behind them lay a small round table with brown glazed teapots and many Chinese teacups. My Chee Em and her second daughter smiled at me then instructed me to go fetch my in-laws. L and R took their apponted seats, L to the left and R to the right. "Ah Ma yum cha" "Ah Pa yum cha" cue the Longan tea, exchange of red packets and it was over.. NEXT! Mum sat with an empty chair to the right. Dad could only be there in spirit and it was M's turn. Well actually it was then all M's turn. I hunted down the aunts, uncles and elder cousins as they chatted noisily in milling groups. Tua Kor blagged a kiss on the cheek. M made her a happy woman with 2. With my enormous family it took 90 minutes of bowing to get through them all before the banquet could begin.

MT had the videocam running to capture every embarassing moment for later circulation.
Tea ceremony. Old Hokkien Rhyme. Chaos and circus. Gifts. Tate and Lyle tea and diabetes
8 course dinner. Yum seng. Beers and downing. Mum downing 2. DH turning up unexpectedly. Seeing old cousins.
Mum's date.

Foong ang pow.
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Tokyo, Japan

High above the sandwich and cake bars at the British Museum sits an al la carte restaruant. I was delighted to discover themed menus relating to current exhibitions. Food so often taken for granted seemed to be recognised as an art form also essential part of culture. Its tendency to fungate over time does not lend it well to permanent exhibitions. Japan it seems has found a way to immortalise food visually.

Japanese formal dining takes place in private rooms. It is the chef's choice that is served. It is a choice dictated by strict and elaborate rules the most important of which is that the menu mush highlight the season. Plates, bowls and accoutrements are chosen to suit the food. Colours and patterns must match the season. "Moritsuke" dictates how the food is arranged on the dish. True appreciation of Kaiseke requires a deep understanding of Japanese history, nature, culture and art as well as a good nose. I am a noob and my single Kaiseki dinner doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of this art form.

Gladly the majority of dining and cooking is far less complicated. Seasonality remains a cardinal rule despite today's ability to fly naturally ripened strawberries in the middle of winter. Family meals used to comprise sashimi/ vinegared dish, a grilled dish, simmered dish and rice. If that sounds like a lot of work, well it is. Modern day Japanese women with jobs and a life outside the home do what the rest of us do and head to the ready meal section of the local supermarket.

Our 3 hr cooking lesson with Emi-san was a revelation in Japanese home cookery. From the layout of her kitchen to the combination of flavours and technique. Assisting in the creation of lunch was a delight. Emi has an encyclopedic knowledge of day to day Japanese cuisine. She tailored the lesson to our needs. The decision to have a lesson was a spur of the moment thing. Next time around I'll plan in advance. Nb. Insert a reference to her website. Emi will be in the next issue of the Rough Guide to Japan.

Practising our new found skills would have been good but for the lack of facilities. Department stores hid cavernous food halls in basements. There was a bewildering array of foods with vendors calling out to customers particularly at the end of the day when discounts are applied. It was a feast for my greedy eyes. Sadly my stomach's capacity was rather more limited.

In the cold winter it was the hot foods that were hitting the spot. Soba, udon, ramen in soup or rice in tea warmed the heart on frosty mornings. As much as I love sushi the freezing temperatures did not encourage. Unlike UK supermarkets who freeze premade sushi for defrosting everything in Japan is freshly made. I guess the locals would have it no other way. This makes greatest difference to the taste and texture of the rice. I have vowed to give up on supermarket sushi in the future. Okonomyaki is also a food to warm both body and spirits. Mainly because the hot hibachi in the table is a great place to warm the fingers.

If all the places we ate my favourite was a sall traditional Izakaya. It was my yen to try yakitori that compelled me over the threshold of a Japanese pub. It was initially a little intimidating but we were soon made to feel welcome. Here food was served with drink. And very affordable it was too. Expertly grilled morsels of chicken, pork, liver, minced pork and shiso were grilled over charcoal and served on skewers. Stomach was gizzard and soft bone was gristle and cartilage. Grilled rice balls were an absolute delight. Favourite was plum brandy and soda.

2 american pilots.
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Tokyo, Japan

We could smell the market at the subway station. The subtle scent of the sea wafting down the corridors. We were greeted by bright sunshine as we emerged from Tsujikishijo station and faced the multitude of wholesalers leaving the market (like ants leaving a nest-M). Yes we were running late. It was already 07.30hrs.

Tsujiki market is no cosy farmer's market. It's massive and industrial. If you are visiting you need your eyes out and your wits about you to avoid being run over by big trucks, little trucks, fork lift trucks, cars, scooters, bicycles and these crazy little runarounds with a barrel motor in the front. Quite apart from the vehicles there are the working fishmongers and buyers that feed Tokyo's insatiable demand for the freshest fish. It is unwise to get in the way of their attempts to go about their business. So beware snap happy visitors and despite low light levels leave the tripod at home (or smell like bad fish for the rest of the day) and be careful with your flash.

Tsujiki is a temple to seafood cuisine processing over 2000 metric tons of acquatic offerings a day. Once in the market (we had already missed the fresh tuna auction) one can browse through a myriad of the familiar and more bizarre. We watched as fishmongers expertly carved up a fresh tuna with meter long knives then another team use a band saw to divide another tuna to manageable chunks. They were deft, precise and wonderful to watch. Most fishmongers tolerated our presence. You won't find many ordinary Japanese browsing the buckets. One was casually enjoying an onigiri with one hand and a slice of his own wares between chopsticks in the other. "Good morning!" he said cheerily. After apologising for 20 minutes for getting in the way I was surprised and replied with an enthusiastic "Good morning" of my own.

We finished the morning in an adjacent sushi bar. The sushi chef made nigiri look easy. It isn't. I've tried. It was the freshest fish I have had and in particular the urchin was fabulous. Last time I had sea urchin was in NYC and I wasn't over enamoured of the taste. This was different. This was delicious. We left full and very satisfied.

Note: The rules surrounding entering the market are changing. Check out this Japan Times article.
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Penang, Malaysia

Teasing
Another wedding in the family.
getting info out of mum. BJ & MT chaperone.
Going shopping. Lunch at 2nd Uncles.
Tour of Bro's hotel.
Returning M's outfit.
Mum's glowing.
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Penang, Malaysia

How did it all happen I wondered as S kindly chauffered Mum and I around Penang looking for THE dress. I'm not the marrying kind. I'm about as lapsed a Christian as it gets so Godly sanction of the union doesn't figure in my list of priorities. No don't confuse me with a commitment phobe. It's just that a ceremony doesn't mean all that much to me. I'd much rather the hubby didn't play hooky and no ritual or signed piece of paper is going to guarantee that.

We arrived at Bridal House No 1. A white colonial house with a luminiscent interior. Two prospective brides floated around. One in a full skirted fondant yellow confection, the other an oriental
Eliza Doolittle in layers of lace and corsetry. Gorgeous dresses but their venues had better be well air conditioned or the underarm sweat stains weren't going to wash. Anyway we were ushered upstairs and shown the Kwa. Mum was a bundle of excitement. I thought it was a little too big. S agreed with me. The saleslady showed us a few other modern takes on traditional wedding dresses. No way was I wearing a backless Cheongsam with side slits up to the thigh to serve tea to my 80 year old rellies. The prospect of dirty old uncles letching just doesn't bear thinking about.

Anyway we were onto Bridal House No 2. This time I had to change and parade on stage. A better fit this time. It dawned on me that whichever Kwa mum decided to acquire it was going to be heavy and hot.

They say third time lucky. At Bridal House No 3 Mum found THE Kwa of her dreams. Elaborately embroidered with beads and pearls it sparkled
as I twirled around, a living marionette for mum's wedding fantasy. It was one of the oldest bridal houses in Penang. I wondered how many brides had served tea to their families in the dress I was wearing and how many were still married. The Kwa was not for sale. Hire yes but sale no. Ah well this is Malaysia and nothing is set in stone. Mum set about negotiating, aided and abetted by S. The two made a formidable pair.

Saleslady "But its the only one I have"
Mum "Ah but you can get another one. Just Google for it. We don't have much time or we would buy it over the internet ourselves"
Saleslady "But its difficult to find such good beading and these traditional patterns"
Mum "It's not difficult lah.There are many in China and Hong Kong who sell these cheap. I tell you I will give u a good price."
S "You have already made good renting it out there's no reason not to sell it on"
Saleslady "We don't rent it out so often nowadays"
Mum & S "Neh so why don't you sell it to us!"

My money was always on Mum. But then again in Malaysia Mum is my money. S was a little disappointed that she didn't have further opportunity to bargain more and tried hard to negotiate a free outfit for M. We borrowed a couple for him to try.
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Sapporo, Japan

We made it onto the packed train. Standing room only though I was one of the last to bag a seat. M was not so lucky. At least we had divested ourselves of our weighty rucksacks.

We pulled out of Sapporo station into sunshine so amplified by the snow that it hurt. Sheets of the white stuff hung off angled roofs, the edges trimmed by long pointy icicles. Wouldn't like to be under those in the thaw.

Ba da bum ba da bum.. the train settled into its rhythm. I remembered a Japanese boast that the Shinkansen was on average only 36 seconds late. We flashed past industrial chimneys blasting out long plumes of vapour that condensed rapidly in the cold. Here and there a tree and house broke the industrial landscape. Must be noisy to live so close to factories.

Eventually the chimneys gave way to houses and trees. I guess the workers have to live somewhere. I closed my eyes against the blinding light. The carriage was a greenhouse in the sunshine. Was that M tap tapping on his PSP? Next thing I knew we were approaching New Chitose Airport. The Japanese woman next to me had disembarked and M had taken her place.

We waited till the carriage had emptied before suiting up. It was an attempt to avoid collateral damage with our rucksacks and it was in vain. In the 2 minutes it took to fasten my rucksack the carriage had flooded with Chinese tourists. M and I squeezed past trying not to lay waste to the surrounding grannies and small children. M said "Man these people would stand in a lion's mouth to get an edge in the queue!".

Move over Heathrow... New Chitose is now the premier airport for shopping in my books. The terminal was a consumer frenzy. In one corner a father teased his young son with an intimidating live hairy crab. Smoked fish dangled on display their powerful aroma their only necessary advertisement. Huge fresh scallops lay amongst other bivalves. All for sale. Sales people pushed free samples into my hands. The melon jelly exploded in a burst of concentrated Charentais on my tongue. The smoked sausage was rather fatty and chocolate too rich for my taste (they didn't stint on the coca butter). The far east is not known for its expertise in dairy products so one cheesecake proved a delightful surprise. It was so good I bought one.

Tokyo Haneda monorail
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Sapporo, Japan

She emerged from the dark, a surreal vision of mile high hair, denim hotpants, knee high socks and silver stilettos flashing through the white snow. A Tina Turner look-a-like perfectly comfortable in the sub-zero temperatures of Hokkaido.

They start them young here. Primary school boys in shorts and a blazer, school girls in the skirt equivalent of the same. Some one told me that the Japanese did it to toughen the kids. Age brings lower hems for men but higher ones for women. The micromini/hotpants with knee high boots is a popular look in Japan in winter.

I found it strange that children should be inoculated against the cold. It became clear in Emi-san's home. It was freezing. There was no central heating. Just one tiny little electric heater. I was informed by another Japanese lady that this is the norm in Japanese homes. Electric heaters are used in the winter in rooms that are currently used.

Suddenly the heated toilet seats made profound sense. In the depths of winter it negated the risk of freezing to the loo.
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Sapporo, Japan

ANA has an interesting take on in-flight entertainment. After the safety advice you get a pilot's eye view of the world, runway and take off. Landing is rather more merve racking as touchdown is always more of a rocky ride which adds to the visuals. Not a flight for those of a nervous disposition.

There was snow, piled in drifts over 6ft high. -5c.
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Kyoto, Japan

Tojai temple
Shopping for cooking knives and otoshibuta.
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Nara - Notes, Japan

Welcome change from a big city.
Jizo statues. Temples and shrines. woods.
the multiple tori shrine.
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