You Can Take the Girl Out of Texas...

Nob Hill

2010-09-09T09:38:00.000-07:00

It's no wonder that the historic Nob Hill district of San Francisco has earned the nickname "Snob Hill." Its former residents, current demographics, outstanding views, and reputation as one of the most affluent areas in this already-expensive city have helped it on its way. All kidding aside, the origin of the name "Nob Hill" still remains a mystery. Some believe the hill's knob shape inspired the name. While others claim similarity to the words "nabob" (18th century slang term for wealthy) or "nobility." Regardless of namesake, one thing is for sure. The rich and famous arrived, and stayed.

Locally know as the Big Four, the Central Pacific Railroad executives built their homes on Nob Hill once they built their fortunes. Mansions taking up city blocks; imported and rare building materials; castle-like architecture with spires and gables. Those were the 19th century homes of Stanford (as in the university), Huntington, Hopkins, and Crocker. Other former residents include the silver tycoons Flood, O'Brien, Fair, and Mackay. While the San Francisco fire of 1906 destroyed the mansions of times past, affluent visitors and residents continue to flock to reputable Nob Hill and its high-end hotels named for the city's founders (Fairmont, Intercontinental Mark Hopkins, Stanford Court, and Huntington hotels).

But it's not just the neighborhood nor its residences, current and former, that exude the "Snob Hill" nickname. Even its cathedral is a bit over the top. Grace Cathedral welcomes its visitors with one of the few replicas of the Gates of Paradise. Often thought to mark the beginning of the Renaissance, these doors moved away from the flatness of religious art and brought perspective into play. The cathedral itself is a monolithic stone building reminiscent of European religious grandeur. In addition to elaborate stained glass depicting more than just bible scenes (look for the spaceship in the window closest to the entrance), a large section of redwood was chosen for the altar table top. This single section is so large it could only come from a tree that was alive during the time of Christ.

While the people now living on Nob Hill belie their neighborhood's nickname, it is clear that this historic neighborhood (and its historic affluence) still thrives.

Sausalito and its Surroundings

2010-09-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

An easy jaunt from San Francisco lies one the best places for skyline vistas: Sausalito. Situated on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge from the city, Sausalito attracts thousands of visitors each year for its boutique shopping, good dining, and of course the view.

The southern end of the city is the main draw. Walking southward, the main strip leads you to the bayside walkway where hundreds gather to capture on film (er, memory card) the grandeur that is San Francisco. The Transco Tower and the rest of the financial district; the Bay Bridge and the bay itself; and the city's northside locales of Marina, Presidio, and Fisherman's Whorf; all are right there in panoramic prominence.

With a view like that, be ready to drop a pretty penny. The food is fresh, the atmosphere is upscale, and clientelle ranges from locals to the rich and famous (we saw a 10.5 million dollar boat in the bay...apparently an affluent Russian businessman came for lunch). Scoma's restaurant sits on stilts in the bay and offers local fish and of course Dungess crab. For something a bit more casual, Fish restaurant is a popular choice for sailors and yachters due to its location on the harbor. BBQ oysters are a specialty of the house.

For those who pass up views and fine dining for intellectual stimulation, visit the Bay Model Visitor Center. In an area the size of 1.5 football fields lies a to-scale replica of the bay and all its waterways. From viewing platforms and walkways, visitors can watch a sped-up version of the tide cycle. One day passes every 13 minutes and you can see the tides going in an out every 3.

More of a day-trip destination than a weekend getaway, Sausalito is still a no-miss.

Bay Area Hiking: Redwood Regional

2010-09-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

Tucked between Oakland, Moraga, and Lake Chabot, and a short drive for East Bay residents, lies an oft-forgotten getaway - Redwood Regional Park. While it lacks the immediate gratification of Muir Woods (redwoods are the first thing you see there), the hike to the canyon bottom as well as the drive to the park are an experience all their own.

To get a true sense for the lay of the land and the beauty of the park's surroundings, enter Redwood Regional from Grizzly Peak/Skyline Blvd. Though winding and a bit less direct, this drive puts even Highway 1 to shame. Multi-million dollar homes, which get progressively bigger as the elevation increases, are tucked neatly into the roadside hills. Picture windows front nearly every house and soon you know why...like the homes, the views are million-dollar, too. On a clear day, you can look down on Oakland, across at San Francisco, and get full views of the Bay and Golden Gate bridges. All this mere miles from a redwood sanctuary.

The park itself is different things to different people. The well-travelled East and West Ridge trails invite hikers, bikers, and runners. With fairly even terrain and wide trails you'll see many close-by residents out for their daily excercise of choice. Others bring their dogs out for some wilderness fun without the restrictions required of neighborhoods and communities (leashes are optional). Still others are looking for peace and tranquility (we ran into one group on a spiritual hike). For us, the redwood trees were the draw.

Once off the beaten path, the Tres Sendas and Stream trails take you down to the canyon bed where redwoods find their home. Growing in tight huddles, as is typical of redwoods, the trees here reach over 100 feet tall. At one time, prior to the influx of loggers, this park's trees were landmarks for boats entering the San Francisco Bay...16 miles away!

In true redwood fashion, tthe trees at Redwood Regional dwarf the visitors, provide respite from the sun, and offer an awe-inspiring ambiance to all those who visit.

Bay Area Hiking: Eugene O'Neill

2010-08-31T10:22:00.000-07:00

It has taken some getting used to, residing in California. Not only do LOTS of people live here (more than 10% of U.S. population) but lots of famous people, too. In particular, Joe Montana, Kristi Yamaguchi, and Sully (the famed pilot that landed his plane in the Hudson River) live or have lived mere miles from my house. But perhaps most famous, at least from the literary perspective, is Eugene O'Neill.

You may be wondering what hiking has to do with one of the most reknowned American playwrights of the 20th century. Well, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness is the site of his former ranch home. Now a museum which commemorates his life and works, the ranch is as easily accessible by trail as it is by road. A moderate, 30-minute hike from Camille Road brings the curious up-close-and-personal with northern California's beloved Nobel laureate.

The ranch house, know as Tao House, is where O'Neill wrote his Pulitzer Prize winning masterpiece: A Long Day's Journey into Night. Simple yet elegant in true taoist fashion, O'Neill's former home was inspired by his interest in Eastern thought. With arguably the best view in all of Las Trampas, it is easy to see how O'Neill found inspiration here where some of his best plays were written.

Open to the public every summer Saturday and offering play readings on-site, Eugene O'Neill's former home is worth a visit for fans of work, those curious about his life, or hikers simply looking for the picture-perfect view.

Bay Area Hiking: Las Trampas

2010-08-27T10:44:00.000-07:00

Photos by Laura Seewoester

In the shadow (literally) of its eastward neighbor Mt. Diablo and just west of the well-traveled Iron Horse Trail lie hiking trails that do not get the attention they deserve. With high potential for seclusion, varied terrain, and ease of access, Las Trampas Regional Wilderness offers some of the best hikes in the Bay Area.

Despite its proximity to well-populated East Bay communities like San Ramon and Walnut Creek, the trails are practically deserted...even on weekends. I've been on many 2-hour hikes and have not encountered a soul. With serene, contemplative, and aesthetic surroundings, Las Trampas not only entices but inspires.

Its trails combine steep climbs with flat footpaths making every turn something special. The tree-covered pathways and trickling creek along Ringtail Cat Trail offer coolness and shade from the 100-degree summers. The up-close-and-personal vegetation of the Corduroy Hills Trail makes one almost feel like a pioneer. And the numerous ridge trails, while not offering shelter from the sun, get the cool, strong breezes off the bay.

With a little effort, one can quickly reach the Madrone Trail vista where Mt. Diablo and the San Ramon Valley are in full panorama. Summiting is easy, too. Vail Peak is a quick, well-maintained upward hike off the Las Trampas Ridge Trail and peaks at 1,787 feet. But the best for both view and seclusion is the lower-lying Eagle Peak. A narrow, overgrown footpath brings you to one secluded bench (with no room for much else) looking over the undulating hills and vegetation.

For those wanting inspiration, perspiration, or just a little insulation from city-life, you'll find it all at Las Trampas.

Bay Area Hiking: Muir Woods

2010-08-24T08:48:00.000-07:00

Just down the road from Point Reyes past Stinson Beach, you go from unknown to most known. And when you arrive you'll know why. Muir Woods is home to the famed redwood trees of the northwest. Towering high above heads, the trees offer not only grandiose sights but also shelter from sun and rain.

A must-see for first-time Bay Area visitors, Muir Woods is accessible to just about anyone. Shuttles easily bus city folk who don't own wheels (the shuttle lot is just over the Golden Gate Bridge); and for those who rely on wheels for getting everywhere, Muir Woods is wheelchair accessible. While the trailhead at the main entrance is what most people come for (paved or boardwalked and easy to hike) try going off the beaten path for a more "authentic" hiking experience.

For those hiking more for leisure, take the Fern Creek Trail. Trickling water, stony creek beds, and log bridges that take you over both make for a peaceful hiking experience. Those erring more toward the hard-core, take the Dipsea and Sun trails through varied terrain. While inclines are steep and there are areas of no tree cover, the end of the trails rewards. The Tourist Club nestled within the redwoods offers members and hikers (for a fee) access to its German-style beer garden.

While Muir Woods offers a nice break from the bustle of its southward city neighbor, the city in all its liberal glory is never too far away (notice the convenient location of the First Amendment Area):

Bay Area Hiking: Point Reyes

2010-08-15T08:31:00.000-07:00

Just up the road from the Golden Gate Bridge and famed Marin County is one of the best kept secrets of the Bay Area – Point Reyes. While the park itself boasts almost 150 miles of hiking trails, the crowned jewel sits at the Palomarin trail head. If the drive to Point Reyes doesn't awe you (winding along historic Highway 1 inches from hundred-foot coastal drop offs), this trail surely will.

The Coast Trail starts on the southern end of the park, and immediately the trail pleases. Just a couple hundred yards through effervescent eucalyptus groves you see the coast....from about 200 feet up! Wide pathways make the hiking easy, but be careful; the view entices even the most cautious close to the edge, and vegetated cliffs lead eyes (and hopefully that's all) down to rocky black sand beaches below.

From the cliff side views, the trail leads hikers through varied terrain that keeps the eyes occupied for miles. Dry golden hillsides familiar to East Bayers and short bushes of varied flora line the trails. Evergreens speckling the surrounding hills, some forming covered archways for hikers to pass through. Finally, green leafy vegetation growing high and thick leads to the trail's most popular feature: the Alamere Falls.

Three waterfalls in sequence form a pond-like body of water at the bottom, and views from the still high-up terrain show off the jagged coast. For the more adventurous, climb down crumbling shale cliffs to the beach below. Here, the runoff from the 3 waterfalls culminate into a 4th falling straight to the beach. While the climb down is not difficult cardio-wise, it is not for the faint of heart. The steep descent requires feet, knees, and hands as the path crumbles with each footfall. Once down you view the 4th waterfall in all its glory, the Pacific Ocean in its vast expanse, and the winding rocky coastline both north and south.

For those who don't hike, try a swim. An estuary has formed between the hills and is accessible by trail or rope swing. Yep, you read right. Adventure seekers can swing by rope from a cliff above into the frigid water of the Pacific. It packs a shock for both observers and participants alike!

The best part about the Coast Trail? Even on a Saturday it is not too crowded. Perhaps it's because Point Reyes falls in the shadow of other close-by attractions; or maybe it's the street signs that local residents take down deterring visitors from finding their neighborhood treasure. But these deterrents should not deter you: Point Reyes and the Alamere Falls is a no miss! (Thanks, Alan, for organizing this unforgettable hiking excursion!):

Bay Area Hiking: Point Pinole

2010-08-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

Lying in between the craziness of Berkeley and the pretentiousness of Napa is regional shoreline that offers beautiful bay views (San Pablo Bay that is). Point Pinole is home to 12 miles of trails that even the most athletically challenged can enjoy. Head west to the Bay View Trail for hiking that puts you inches from coastline, and at its end places you in perfect position to walk the quarter-mile long fishing pier. Then roam your way back further inland through grassland trails and tree covered paths.

Though the trails at Point Pinole aren't as extensive as other parks, its history is. The hiking trials, grasslands, and eucalyptus forest were once the home of Giant Powder Company – a dynamite manufacturer. At the time, it was the only company in the U.S. allowed to use Alfred Nobel's patent for dynamite. From 1880 to 1960 – during which a company town complete with a dance hall, saloon, and bocce ball court were built and the company was acquire by Atlas Powder Company– 2 billion pounds of dynamite were produced.

Today, little is left of the once thriving industry that helped fuel war machines and made construction safer. But a few sites of interest invite hikers to remember what once was. Off the beaten path lies a dynamite blast and burning bunker. While its high embankments and circular form give clue to its former use, grass has since overgrown it and a picnic table lies at its center...a quaint place for a picnic though a little unsettling if you ask me! And for the more mechanically curious, an original powder press is on display.

The once bustling, busy, and booming peninsula is now a peaceful and quiet hiking retreat. But there is still potential for some bang-up jobs on-site...congrats on your 3rd place standing at the Nitro Trail Run, Brian!

Bay Area Hiking: Del Valle

2010-08-08T06:48:00.000-07:00

While many visit Northern California for its wine, city tourist attractions, or the famous Hwy 1 drive, often left out of of the mix is the hiking which is second to none. Despite the thousands (yes, you heard me, thousands) of trails tucked in-between communities throughout the Bay Area, locals and tourists alike often overlook this past time opting for more "tourist worthy" activities. My next couple of posts in-series will highlight some of the Bay Area's "hike worthy" destinations.

Del Valle Regional Park is most known for its water sports. On any given weekend, trucks with boats in tow and SUVs with kayaks atop can be seen heading toward the Del Valle Reservoir entrance on Mines Road. But while the dammed Arroyo del Valle river provides ample area for boating, 28 miles of hiking trails are also found here. For hikers, avoid the watersport fanatics and find a more peaceful hiking experience at the Arroyo Road entrance.

Del Valle's East Shore Trail wins the award for immediate gratification. A short (yet steep) 15 minute uphill hike brings you to views that will blow you away. A picturesque panorama of both the Livermore and San Ramon valleys causes even the most earnest hiker to stop and pause. Rolling hills dominated by Mount Diablo, green trellised vines waiting for harvest, and one of the most beautiful golf courses in the country are just some of what you'll see. Turn around from this view and another awaits: the Del Valle Reservoir, lush with green trees and placid water which looks best as the sun sets.

After being blown away by the view, continue along the moderate 4-mile loop winding through hills of golden hay. Then catch the Heron Bay Trail to bring you close to the water. Fenceline blocks shoreline in most places, but look for the sporadic gates which allow foot access to rocky beaches and the reservoir itself.

While Del Valle hiking sits in the shadow its watersports arena, the hikers know better! Del Valle is a view-worthy hiking destination.

Visiting the Google Campus

2010-08-04T06:18:00.000-07:00

After blogging about Apple and Craigslist, it seems only appropriate to continue with my technology topic trend. And what better way than to feature Silicon Valley's Internet giant – Google. (Thanks for hosting me Eva and Alex!)

Unlike other company campuses, Google's errs more toward the university type. Just walking around Google grounds, you can't help but be transported back to college days yourself. Buildings surround open public areas where jean-and-T-shirt–clad employees can mingle, read, play volleyball, or just waste away the lunch hour. Walking and biking are the preferred forms of inter-building transit...Google even provides community bikes to do so! Even the cubicles reminded me a bit of dorm rooms, each expressing their share of individuality as well as college-style clutter. (I'm a firm believer that clutter breeds creativity...or vice versa.)

And then there's the food...college cafeteria style it is, but college cafeteria quality it is not. Self-serving and self-bussing is still the norm, but the selection of food is a far cry from college cuisine. From Asian soup–noodle bar to sushi to Indian and even vegan cuisine, there is something for everyone's tastes and tendencies. And for those who are cafeteria-food traditionalists, burgers and pizza are still to be found (though the burgers today were buffalo and my pizza had more cauliflower than cheese).

But more than nostalgic, Google is revolutionary. From its start in 1998 to its searching-made-simple claim to fame, Google has set the bar high for competitors from the beginning. And for employees Google has continued to be a pioneer, breaking the rules of corporate America. Twenty percent of employees' time is allotted for their own personal projects, encouraging not only creativity but self-controlled variety in the workplace. In addition, it's not the subordinates (if you can even use that term here) vying for the top positions. Bosses are the ones working to impress in an effort to attract a successful team. And if you don't like your boss, you can fire him or her and find a new one.

For those of us not lucky enough to wear PJs at work or bring our cocker spaniel to the office, we can still reap the technological benefits of what the Googleplex phenomenon has nurtured – Gmail, Google Maps, and of course my favorite:

Craigslist Crack-Ups: Part 2

2010-07-31T08:28:00.000-07:00

And here are some more favorites. The treasures just keep on coming:

Do you need a suit I have a decent Olive green suit. Comes with a green shirt and tie.

Calling all incredible hulk look alikes...this offer won't last long!

Wedding/Party supplies, includ. fresh unopened 1/2-&-1/2 Left over from a wedding, we will happily give away about $50 worth of party supplies:

- 3 pints HALF 'N' HALF for coffee, unopenened; never taken even out of the fridge!, dated Aug. 3 so it's still just fine!

- 1 large roll of white paper STREAMERS, still rolled up (unused)

- approx. 35 "deluxe" plastic WINE GLASSES (need washing)

- approx. 35 "deluxe" plastic FORKS that look like silverware (need washing)

- 5-10 each "deluxe" plastic SPOONS & KNIVES that look like silverware (need washing)

- 1 pkg. of 8 disposable ASHTRAYS

-2 antique-look aluminum VASES, about 14" tall

Looks like they pulled out all the stops for this celebration. Truly, a wedding is not complete without disposable ashtrays.

veggie oil I've got two 5 gallon jugs of used oil to give away. I haven't been driving my car as much as normal due to injury. This is good quality oil for making biodiesel or filtering for straight vegetable oil cars. First to respond gets it.

Again, only in the Bay Area...

Mannequin Legs great for an artist or someone who likes legs!

Free Mannequin Legs! Pair of mannequin legs from a vintage mannequin. My mannequin Lola is pretty, tall and vintage. She's a part of my life now so I can't part with her head/torso, however, her legs are taking up a lot of room in my small apartment. The legs are connected at the pelvis by a bar, but can be used as two separate legs as well. Lola stood around 6' tall as a full mannequin, so the legs are full size. The feet are cute, they remind me of gelfling feet from The Dark Crystal. There's a gap between the big toe and the rest of the toes to allow for sandal or thong display.

Thanks god they included a close up pic of the toes. That could make or break the deal.

Craigslist Crack-Ups: Part 1

2010-07-28T08:39:00.000-07:00

For those who are not privy to the craigslist phenomenon, it's truly a wonderful thing. Started right here in the Bay Area in 1995 and since expanding to over 700 cities worldwide, craigslist is the ultimate online garage sale. People can post their trash and their treasures online for free in hopes of finding a home, making some cash, or just getting rid of some of their junk. And while I use craigslist myself for personal shopping, it also provides me with hours of entertainment. Check out some of the most recent craigslist posts:

broken concrete "clean" free broken concrete peices for you come and take one and all i dont care no emails just come and get it

Alright, now I'm sure there are plenty of good uses for broken concrete. I just can't think of any right now. And apparently the fact that the concrete is clean is REALLY important, too. I mean, did this guy miss the third grade punctuation test or something? he needs to retake the third grade really "bad" maybe he was too busy giving away clean concrete to pay attention in class.

YOU take it to the recycle place I am remodeling my house. I've tried to save what I can from the landfill but just don't have the energy to take it to the recycle place. I have various scrap metals and two window panels from the sliding glass door I replaced. If you want it, please come get it, but please take it all.

Only in the Bay Area would this fly. Getting someone else to do your dirty recycling. Within an hour I bet he had all sorts of Go-Greeners begging to help him recycle. Seriously, if you have the energy to remodel your house, you can take your own trash to the recycle center.

Free horse manure (Sebastopol) FREE Horse manure. We can load. Please call to set-up a pick-up time. We would appreciate a little money for the cost of diesel for the tractor but not requied. By appoitment ONLY!!

Free Wool Free wool from 7 just shorn sheep - great for crafts; spinning or what have you! Just call to make arrangements to pick it up in S. Sebastopol.

I think someone needs help cleaning up their farm.

Free Wood from Closet - damaged Our Closet fell down and broke. Have the wood if you need it. You will need to pcik it up.

What the....

The Apple Revolution

2010-07-24T07:51:00.000-07:00

I have always been an advocate for Apple products, even during pre-iMac days when everything was PC. For me, it has always been Apple all the way. So you'd think now that we live near Apple headquarters my loyalties would have taken off. Well, let's just say I've been going through a technology dry spell, and my hiatus from the I-world became all too apparent last week.

A friend in Singapore asked if we could pick up his new iPad and send it to him (it won't be available there for another couple of months). Upon its arrival, I made my first trip to an Apple Store since returning home from Singapore myself. Among the counters of curious consumers playing with MacBooks and iPods, I began to scan the store for the sales counter...hmmm. Nowhere to be found.

So I head to the only logical place, the Genius Bar, where other consumers had formed a line. This must be the counter where I pick up the iPad, I thought to myself. But as I stood in line, I noticed everyone in front of me had used products in hand...hmmm. No new products being handed out here.

Finally I stop a pleasant fellow in a blue Apple T-shirt, tight jeans, red espadrilles, and wild curly brown hair that was a little too long. His look and his layed-back easy going attitude (as well as his dress) epitomized the Apple-tude. "Can I help you?" he asked and I explained that I couldn't find the counter to pick up my iPad. He led me to one of the display computers, asked for my e-mail address, clicked a couple of buttons and said he'd meet me back there in 3 minutes. OK? So where do I check out, I wondered, but I didn't say anything.

Three minutes later he arrives with iPad in hand. I hadn't paid for it yet so I asked where I could process my order. Right here, he said...we were standing in the middle of the Apple Store, no cashiers to be seen. I trusted he knew what he was doing so I handed him my credit card. At that point he grabbed what I think was his iPhone, swiped my card down the side, then asked me to sign on his iPhone screen. Viola! Transacation complete.

Seriously, I feel a bit un-California to be surprised by this.

***Thank you Apple for letting me "borrow" your logo image.

Heavenly Highway 1

2010-07-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

The term God's country had little relevance to me...until we drove the historic Highway 1. From Cambria to Monterey, this stretch of highway truly feels a bit like heaven.

We started our trek from Paso Robles, heading west to the coast. While the crown jewel is the coastal drive, the "getting there" wasn't bad either! Winding roads through hills that keep the cool sea air from blasting Paso; vineyards and wineries leading the way; and morning fog making for an eerie
approach to the quaint town of Cambria. Could it really get any better than this?

Whether starting in Cambria (as we did) or elsewhere along Highway 1, this lazy vacation town is a must-stop. The main strip of downtown boasts quaint shops and bistro-gourmet dining. Try Indigo Moon for a bountiful brunch experience. Live music every Sunday, outdoor garden seating, and copious cuisine make this stop more than worthwhile. And the food is fresh and affordable! Eggs Benedict served atop crab cakes instead of muffins; fish and chips that put its competitors to shame (I think they fried the entire fish for this dish!); and thick, juicy, gourmet burgers served with a side of sweet potato fries...there is a little something for everyone here.

Continuing north back toward home, the road takes you down, up, and up-close-and-personal with the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Winding along mere feet from sea level and climbing up for beautiful views are what this drive is all about. Try accessing the fireroad across from Ragged Point for some killer panoramas and a good hike (4 miles gaining 1,700 feet gives even the in-shape a workout). Or for the tourist in all of us, visit the Hearst Castle (media mogul William Hearst's picturesque mansion) in San Simeon.

From Ragged Point (a good pit stop along the way), Big Sur starts to dominate the east side of Highway 1. All along the way, hiking trails invite the adventurous, and viewpoints invite the rest. But for hikers and non-hikers alike, one trail is a must for everyone...the McWay Waterfall Trail. A mere .6 mile stroll along boardwalk takes you to Big Sur's most distinctive photo-op – an 80 foot waterfall cascading into the ocean.

Continuing north takes you to the heart of Big Sur and toward Carmel and Monterey. But for a quick dinner stop away from Carmel crowds or Monterey mayhem, try Big Sur Roadhouse. Though the happy hour was what led us in, the California-Latin cuisine kept us there. Some of the freshest tortilla soup I've ever had – chunks of veggies and delicate broth served with homemade tortilla chips.

With outstanding food, outstanding views, outstanding hikes, and fewer crowds than you'd expect, Highway 1 is truly a bit of heaven right here in California.

Paso Robles: The West Loop

2010-07-17T09:12:00.000-07:00

While the East side offers hours of entertainment, Paso’s West side story is just as tasty. Might I suggest our West loop for a delectable day of wining.

Wild Coyote: Approached by a winding road and nestled among the hills, this winery is a Santa Fe-styled surprise. Complete with adobe-walled tasting room, pottery peppered hills, and even a teepee out front, the tasting experience here is hard to beat. And while the wines were a bit disappointing the views were not. Wild Coyote wins for the best Paso
panorama.

Halter Ranch: A ranch style farmhome houses the Halter Ranch tasting room, and tours of the vineyards and restored 19th-century barn are available. Don’t leave without trying their Sauvignon Blanc. Aged in stainless steel, it still has creamy characteristics from being aged sur lie.

Le Cuvier: The service in this winery is top-notch. Each wine is paired with tasty tapas-styled treats in a casual barrel room atmosphere. If you like oak, this is the place for you. Some of their wines have laid in oak for over 3 years!

Tolo: The wine industry certainly is one big happy family. And you’ll know this the minute you walk into Tolo's red farmhouse. Set in the winemaker’s kitchen, you’ll be poured wines from behind his kitchen counter. Not only that, his next door neighbor at Tablas actually trained him in all he knows. Yep, one big happy family.

Justin: The biggest presence in Paso also gives the biggest first impression. Beautiful grounds, nice views, isolated atmosphere, and a grandiose tasting room all add to the wine tasting experience here. Specializing in Bordeauxs but making a little of everything, this region-wide wine distributor still manages to keep quality high.

Four Vines: Did I just walk into an 80s bar? With wine pourers punked out in torn black T’s, you can’t help but feel a bit like a rock star yourself. And the red Chihuly-esque chandeliers oddly complement the wine room decor. The best part though? You get to keep the glass. (I chose the “Zin Bitch” glass.)

Rotta: Touted as the oldest family owned winery in San Luis Obispo County, Rotta has produced wine since 1908. While their reds and whites are good, the dessert wines are the real winners. Try Black Monukka for a sweet treat. Rotta is the exclusive producer of this rare, cognac-esque dessert wine.

Paso Robles: The East Loop

2010-07-10T07:11:00.000-07:00

Highway 101 conveniently divides Paso Robles into two side – East and West. Though I found both to be separate but equal, many visitors claim allegiance to one or the other. For a day of tasteful entertainment, might I suggest our East side loop. Make the Highway 46 drive to Tobin James first. The drive out, a bit urban to say the least, puts you in perfect position to mosey your way back through more appealing scenery.

Tobin James: Is this really a winery? From the outside it looks like a fancy truck stop; from the inside, a Texas honky tonk with wood floors, long bar, and beer taps (I think they're just for show). This tasting room gets an A+ for atmosphere, making everyone feel relaxed and right at home. Try their Late Harvest Zinfandel for something hard-to-find elsewhere.

Rockin' R: One of Paso's newer wineries, it is quality not quantity here. Only offering 3 wines for tasting this stop is still well worth your while. Rockin' R offers excellent blends...with a catch! While the wines bear names like "Pink Freud," the varietals used remain a secret. Join the wine club and try your luck at guessing. Dinner for 2 and two bottles of wine await the winner.

Cass: A truly elegant experience. White table clothes coupled with French-Reggae music complement the wines beautifully. Though prices are a bit above Paso cost standards, they are well worth a splurge. Try their Syrah (one of the best I've had!) or their creamy Sauvignon Blanc. Both are sure to please.

Clautiere: Rhone blends for everyday drinking...and wigs. Yep, you read right. Wigs in psychedelic colors (including a Marge Simpson mock-up) are just waiting to fuel the wine-tasting fire. What could be better than wine tasting with wigs?!

Sculpterra: While the wines aren't my palate's preference, the tasting room is a no-miss. Beautiful landscaping, an iron gate, and huge animal sculptures welcome visitors to the tasting room grounds. As an added bonus, pistachios are grown on property and can be purchased in the tasting room.

Pear Valley: Beautiful views! Did I mention Pear Valley has beautiful views? Try some of their Rhones for a pleasant surprise at a pleasant price.

Bianchi: Here, we found a little bit of home in Paso. The winemaker is a former employee of Livermore's Concannon Vineyard (right across the street from where I currently work). A beautiful tasting room, friendly staff, and Livermore-style wine. Their Sangiovese is a must try!

Falcon Nest: While the tasting room is a bit shabby and the owners a bit unconventional (the winemaker-owner walked in with a rifle!), if you like big, oaky wines Falcon Nest is the place for you. These wines are how I imagine the Old World wines once were.

Passing Through Paso

2010-07-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

For those making a trip along historic Highway 1, Paso Robles is worth a pass through. Located almost equidistant from the Bay Area, Los Angeles, and Bakersfield (and just 20 miles east of the coast), Paso Robles is an ideal long weekend destination for California residents and visitors.

Yuppies from L.A.; hikers from the East Bay; computer geeks from Silicon Valley; blue collar Bakersfield residents; and of course a bit of redneck from the surrounding smaller towns, Paso is a crossroads for the eclectic. Even the locals – farmers, winemakers, and migrant workers among other populations – add to the unlikely mix. But regardless of population and visitor diversity, they all come for one thing – WINE!

One of the lesser known wine regions nationwide (but touted and revered by locals), wining and dining is what folks come here for. Zinfandels and Rhone varietals are must tries, as well as Sauvignon Blanc (some of the best I've tasted in California!). You'll pay reasonable prices for outstanding wines, and with over 100 wineries to choose from you are bound to find something that titillates your palate.

While I like to give credit where credit is due (Napa's Cabs are hard to beat), Paso Robles kicks the pants off of Napa's culinary options. Unlike Napa's options which include break-the-budget high ends, less-than-spectacular low ends, and Rutherford Grill (yep, that about sums it up), Paso's restaurants and bars frame the main square and offer quality cuisine that anyone could afford. Like the diversity of Paso's residents and visitors, happy hour honky tonks and bistro-gourmets neighbor high-end french restaurants and "exclusive" uppity clubs. For every palate (and every budget) there is a little something for everyone in Paso.

The Jewish Plight: Berlin

2010-06-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

It only seems appropriate that our final stop on this Jewish Plight series should be Berlin...where the Final Solution saw its final days. In particular, you can visit the site of Hitler's bunker hide-out. Until a couple of years ago, the site was not even marked for fear it becoming a Neo-Nazi shrine. Today, though not well publicized, the site of the bunker is marked and can be visited at the corner of In den Ministergärten and Gertrud-Kolmar-Straße.

The bunker itself is where Hitler spent his last days. Less than a month after marrying long-time companion Eva Braun in that bunker, they both committed suicide there...a final testimant to Hitler's defeat. Today, the non-descript site has a parking lot, a small grass plaza, and apartment buildings surrounding it. And according to our tour guide, the only commenmorative rituals that happen here are dogs doing their business.

Just down the street from where Hitler and his "plan" met their ends is the Memorial to the Murdered Jews...a assemblage of concrete slabs varying in height and placed linearly over a 5 acre plot. In the corner of the memorial, you can enter an underground museum which highlights the personal stories of many of those who lost their lives. Poignant, moving, and not for the faint of heart, the museum brings to life real stories of separation, torture, and death.

But the memorial brings to question how much a nation should commemorate its tainted past. For some, perhaps it symbolizes the German people embracing and facing their history...both good and bad. But as Martin Walser points out, the memorial is a "ceaseless presentation of our shame." In that same vein, should memorials intend only to commemorate the good or can good come out of commemorating the bad as well? I'll leave that for each of us to decide.

The Jewish Plight: Prague

2010-06-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

In the shadow of Poland's plight during WWII are the struggles of its close by neighbors: Bohemia and Moravia. Now the Czech Republic, its Jewish history is just as rich and tragic as Poland's, and the commemoration of the Jewish plight is some of the best in Eastern Europe.

The Jewish Museum in Prague spans 11 buildings, all of which commemorate, celebrate, and remember the fight and plight of the Jewish communities there. Perhaps the most moving of all the buildings is the Pinkas Synagogue. Following the Holocaust, extensive research commenced to find the names, birth and death dates, and hometowns of all Bohemians and Moravians who died in Nazi concentration camp Terezin. Almost 80,000 names, in red and black, were painstakingly written by hand both as a record of and memorial to those lost during the Holocaust.

But perhaps the most saddening part, other than the sheer number of names, is that this is the second version of the memorial. The original was completed in 1959. But with Israel's victory in the Six-Day War and the anti-semitic sentiment of the late 1960s, all the names were removed by the communist government. After extensive restoration, the current version was completed in 1996. For many (including Madeleine Albright who found proof of her grandfathers' fate) this is the only record of what became of loved ones and families separated during Nazi occupation.

But it is not just tragedy that is remembered here; it is also Jewish tradition. You see, not only is the Jewish Quarter (Josefov) immaculately preserved, many Jewish artifacts pilfered during WWII were kept and stored in Prague by the Nazis themselves. Their intention? To erect an "exotic museum of an extinct race" once their Final Solution came to fruition.

Though their Final Solution was squelched, their intent for a museum was not, and took on a much different form than intended: one of the best preservations of a brave and thriving people! Included in this preservation is the immaculate Spanish Synagogue designed in Moorish architectural style with Arabic patterns covering its interior walls (if you didn't know better you'd think you were entering a mosque). Also here is Europe's oldest surviving Jewish cemetery – a mishmash of headstones dating as far back as the 15th century. According to Jewish law, tombs cannot be destroyed nor gravestones removed. So when land become impossible to purchase, new layers of dirt covered old ones and ALL tombstones were crammed on top.

For Jewish history and commemoration of tragedy and tradition, the much overlooked Prague definitely deserves a lookover.

The Jewish Plight: Auschwitz-Birkenau

2010-06-20T06:04:00.000-07:00

While I hate to say that a WWII death camp is a must-visit, Auschwitz truly shows just how heartless, horrible, and extensive the Nazi's "final solution" was...something you can't experience from reading books or seeing pictures. Named for the town of Oswiecim in which it stands (Auschwitz is its German name), Auschwitz was divided into three camps (I, II [Birkenau], and III) and was the largest in the German camp system.

When visiting the Auschwitz complex, some say to visit Auschwitz I if you are short on time. After all, there is much more to see there: buildings completely reconstructed, artifacts stolen from the Jews and compiled (glasses, fake teeth, even hair shaved from prisoners), and a concise history that helps tell the story of life in the concentration camps. In Auschwitz I, prisoners were kept alive, experimented upon, or forced to work under impossible conditions. In Birkenau, however, all that existed was death and those who worked for it.

The first thing you see upon arrival to Birkenau is a dominating, red brick watchtower and gate. From the outside, it appears like a grandiose entrance way, much the same as Brandenburg Gate or the Arch de Triomphe might seem. And perhaps this is how Himmler saw it as well. But as you walk through and see what hides behind its facade, feelings being to overwhelm and the void on the other side overtakes.

To the left and right are open fields, where the prison buildings once stood. Now it is a half mile of emptiness on each side. To the front, a single railroad track (ominously foreshadowing that people come in but not out) leads 1.5 miles ahead, terminating at the crematoriums (5 in all). This is where 1.1 million people were never given a chance, chosen not for who they were but for who they were not, and killed systematically...banefully...inhumanely. And making the walk from entry to crematory makes it all the more real.

The crematoriums are gone; the prison buildings are destroyed. Now all that remains is the gate, the tracks, and the feeling of hollowness that Birkenau's massive expanse leaves behind.

The Jewish Plight: Krakow

2010-06-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

While Warsaw saw the most physical destruction during WWII, Krakow's Kazimierz district and its Jewish history is probably the most familiar. It's proximity is not only the closest to well-known Auschwitz-Birkenau extermination camp, but it was also home to the Jewish savior made popular Steven Spielberg: Oskar Schindler.

Schindler's enamel factory, now a museum, lies just outside Krakow's Jewish district. Here, hundreds of Jews were employed
under the auspices of "necessity to the war effort" and saved from the gas chambers. As depicted in the film, Oskar Schindler's original motivations were monetary. But as the war went on and more Jews were employed, his loyalties shifted to his workers despite their Jewish ethnicity. Taking a walk in the Kazimierz district, you might encounter scenes where Schindler's List was filmed. (These pictures are from the scene where mother is separated from daughter while trying to hide from the Nazis, then reunited under these stairs.)
But more disheartening than the extermination of the Jews and the risk Schindler took in their protection is the lack of a Jewish community here today. After the war, anti-semitism continued to thrive through the late 1960s. Following the Six-Day War between Israel and the Egypt/Jordan/Syria region (in which Israel came out victor), anti-semitic tensions continued to escalate in Poland and finally culminated the following year. Massive student protests, sparked by censorship of Poland's national poet of Jewish heritage, ended with more than 2,500 arrests. Jewish organizations were shut down, Yiddish was banned, and most Jews by then had emigrated out of Poland.

Though anti-semitism does not thrive overtly, the residual effects are still apparent. The Jewish population was decimated by discrimination and people still hide their Jewish heritage. In fact, it is not uncommon for daughters and sons to discover their true heritage only as a final revelation by their parents on their death beds. Even today many Jewish Krakovians feel compelled to hide who they are.

The Jewish Plight: Esperanto

2010-06-15T05:46:00.000-07:00

Given my personal interest in languages and culture, it seems only appropriate to mention L.L. Zamenhof as I follow the Jewish plight across Eastern Europe. For those unfamiliar, Zamenhof is the creator of the Esperanto language who found his home in Warsaw.

Born in Poland (formerly the Russian Empire) in 1859, Zamenhof grew up keenly aware of his Jewish heritage. His childhood town was home to four major ethnic groups (Jewish, Polish, German, and Belarusian), between which ethnically fueled quarrels often arose. In addition, from the year of his birth until 1905, anti-Jewish pogroms ran rampant in the Russian Empire. These factors not only encouraged Zamenhof to join the Zionist movement for a time, but no doubt inspired his pursuit of a language which everyone could easily learn and speak. In his view, "the main reason for the hate and prejudice lay in mutual misunderstanding, caused by the lack of one common language that would play the role of a neutral communication tool between people of different ethnic and linguistic backgrounds" (wikipedia.com). Esperanto was Zamenhof's response to this age-old conflict – it was intended as a way of promoting the peaceful coexistence of different people and cultures.

While Zamenhof himself wasn't around to see the horrors of the holocaust, his children were – Adam, Sofia, and Lidia all died during the holocaust. And their Jewish heritage was not the only factor that may have played a role in their persecution. Hitler (as well as Stalin and other totalitarian leaders) saw Esperanto as a language of conspiracy and even wrote to this effect in Mein Kampf:

"As long as the Jew has not become the master of the other peoples, he must speak their languages whether he likes it or not, but as soon as they became his slaves, they would all have to learn a universal language (Esperanto, for instance!), so that by this additional means the Jews could more easily dominate them!"

Despite the persecution, Esperanto still survives boasting more than a thousand native speakers and hundreds of thousands of fluent speakers (some estimates as high as 8 million) worldwide. But more important, Zamenhof's pacifistic philosophy of tolerance survived the holocaust and continues to live on through the Esperanto language.

The Jewish Plight: Warsaw

2010-06-08T12:55:00.000-07:00

Modern-day Warsaw, Krakow, Prague, and Berlin appear like any other cities in today's worldwide spectrum. They all tout successful tourist industries, beautiful architecture, blossoming economies, and heartbeats that distinguish them as unique in their own regard. But what sets them apart from others, and unites these 4 cities as one, are their tragic connections to WWII's holocaust and the atrocities experienced by each. My own exploration, education, and reflection began in Warsaw...

Walking through Warsaw today, it appears like any Eastern European city. Impeccable public transit, modern shopping malls, and new buildings flanked by socialist architecture of bygone days. But be careful...a tourist could easily flit around this city visiting Old Town, the Royal Walk, and Palace of Culture and Science and leave none the wiser to Warsaw's poignant past. But here in this now modern and beautiful city, the plight of the Jews was by far the most tragic.

Of the ghettos established by the Nazi regime, Warsaw's was the largest. Nearly 30% of Warsaw's population (~400,000 people) was forced into an area less than 3% the size of Warsaw. Conditions were difficult, disease rampant, and starvation and random shootings an everyday occurrence. Though buildings of the ghetto were mostly destroyed as Warsaw was "razed to the ground," the site of its Umschlagplatz (literally "reloading point") can still be visited today. Here, nearly 300,000 ghetto residents in just under 2 months (about 7,000 each day) were gathered, loaded on trains, transported to Treblinka death camp, and killed in gas chambers.

While some met their untimely death at Treblinka, the more influential and dangerous faced interrogation at Gestapo headquarters. The headquarters was located in the basement of Poland's current-day Ministry of Education building, and today appears much as it did during Hitler's reign. Bench rows set up like a train (flanked and one behind another) is where Jewish "conspirators" would sit for days not being allowed to sleep. During interrogations in the rooms nearby, music would play from a wireless radio outside the "train room" door. This would muffle speech, screams, and other sounds of torture and death from those awaiting the same fate. At the end of the WWII, 5.5 tons of cremation ash was found in the Gestapo headquarters building.

While often we hear about Nazi atrocities such as these in discussions of the holocaust, one thing rarely brought to life are the circumstances perpetuated by the Russians during the Warsaw Uprising (which I find to be just as cruel and inhumane as the gas chambers). Not to be confused with the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising which occurred a year earlier, this 1944 resistance movement intended to free Poland from Nazi control. Knowing the Red Army was within range to help liberate Warsaw, the Polish Home Army led attacks on their Nazi occupiers on Aug 1.

While the uprising intended to hold the Nazis in check for mere days until Russian help could come, the Polish defenders bravely fought until their eventual surrender 63 days later. The Russian Army, wanting Warsaw under their control, stopped at the gates and waited for months until Polish defeat. After all, it would be easier to control a defeated people than one which had succeeded. When the Russians final entered Warsaw, 85% of the city was destroyed.

What you see today in Warsaw is a symbol of strength. A city rebuilt, a city pride that can't be extinguished, and a city which remembers. It is our duty as visitors to remember, too.

*As usual, I thank wikipedia for historical background information.

A Museum City

2010-06-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

A trip to Berlin is not complete without a day (or ten!) spent museum hopping. With more than 170 to choose from, and even more that are privately run, Berlin is home to some of the oldest, largest, best-preserved, and out-of-the-ordinary artifacts in the world.

Most renown is Berlin's Museum Insel...an island in the Spree River consisting of five museums. During Berlin's division the island lay on the East side of the city. Only recently has it reopened in full with the completion of Neues Museum in 2009 (destroyed in WWII). From the Nefertiti bust to papyrus, Neues Museum houses one of the most extensive Egyptian collections outside of Cairo.

While Neues Museum is sure to please, the crowned jewel of Museum Insel is the Pergamon Museum. Named for the full-sized Greek alter it houses, this museum makes ancient ruins and the stories they tell come to life...in life size! The first room you enter puts you up close and personal with the museums namesake. Found in present-day Turkey's ancient city of Pergamon, the altar spans almost 40 yards across and the front stairway can accommodate the multitudes of visitors who must climb up and through it for museum access. And if the first room does not inspire awe, the subsequent rooms will. From the grandiose Market Gate of Miletus to Babylon's colorful Ishtar Gate and Procession Way, the Pergamon Museum is "awe"some to say the least.

But even a wander off Museum Island will not disappoint. Gemaeldegalerie am Kulturforum houses such talents as Rubens, Raphael, and Rembrandt. And for music lovers, Berliner Philharmonie has some of the best acoustic in the world. There is even a Currywurst Museum which celebrates the best and "wurst" of Germany's most popular sausage.

For intellectuals, museum-nuts, and those merely looking to be entertaind, the museums of Berlin should not be missed.

A City Divided...and Reunited

2010-05-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

Berlin is a city of contemporary culture more than tradition. In contrast to southern Germany (where biergartens rule), trendy bars, ethnic restaurants, and high-end shopping are what tourists encounter. With a feel and beat much like Chicago, and a top of the line public transit system, Berlin has come back with a vengence from its post-WWII division. But despite its rebirth, remnants of its past pay tribute the strength of the German people and their friends, family, and beloved city that were divided.

At the end of World War II, Europe was split into Eastern and Western blocs, under the auspices of communist and democratic ideologies respectively. Berlin – being an important city both politically and economically – was also divided into British, American, French, and Soviet blocs. But the reality of the situation, and what made Berlin so crucial to the post-WWII political schema, was that Berlin lay right in the middle of Soviet territorial control. Until the early 1950s (before the Berlin Wall was built), the border between East and West could be easily crossed. So easy in fact that subways still ran between East and West Berlin making visits and emigration logistically uncontrollable.

But what makes Berlin's story so poignant was not the existence of the wall itself; rather, it was the manner in which it was erected and the reality that it symbolized. At midnight on August 13, 1961, Eastern bloc troops were ordered to close off the border between East and West, and by the morning a barbed wire fence spanning almost 125 miles surrounded the entire city, literally overnight. Friends and families, in just a matter of hours, were separated for what would become almost 30 years.

I was lucky to visit Berlin with my father whose last visit pre-dated the wall's fall. Last time he visited Checkpoint Charlie, he was on a tour bus to East Berlin being scrutinized by border guards and keenly aware of the tense political situation in existence. Now the checkpoint lies on a non-descript thoroughfare through the heart of Berlin's tourist district. Last time he saw the Brandenburg Gate he stood facing the back of it...the Berlin Wall stopped him from accessing a front view. Now, it is the main attraction on Pariser Platz and is surrounded by embassies, tourists taking pictures, and even a Starbucks on the former East side. Last time he traveled down Unter den Linden, East Berliners would not look him in the eye and the only cars he saw were Trabants. Now the famed street, whose entrance is the Brandenburg Gate, leads anyone and everyone to probably the best museum district in the world.

The city today is a testament to Berliner pride and German Gemütlichkeit. A city once divided, and now reunited.

An Eastern European Easter

2010-05-25T06:37:00.000-07:00

In the United States, Easter tends to fall low in rank – somewhere between MLK day and Cinco de Mayo I'd suspect. Not even as anticipated as Fourth of July, this step-child holiday comes and goes without outrageous commercialism or holiday-time parties. But in Eastern Europe, the Easter Season puts even our Christmas celebrations to shame.

Krakow’s Easter Market engulfs the main square. Towers of flowers decorate for festivities and reach high above the Easter crowds. Banners announcing Easter concerts invite even the most apprehensive to join the celebration. Piles of handmade baskets pour out of vendor stalls enticing buyers inside, while neighboring stalls sell anything from ceramics to woodwork to crocheted egg toppers. Even the malls take part in the celebration with Easter displays and decorations strategically placed in windows, stores, and common areas.

Palm Sunday Mass is no small production either. With organ-led melody, the Passion is recited in solo song with two choirs (in the choral terrace and behind the alter) volleying in strategic accompaniment. Carrying braided straw decorated with ribbon (instead of our traditional palm sprigs), Mass attendees vie for standing-room-only. Those lucky enough to find seats must still be herded slowly from pew to portal at Mass’ end.

But end of Mass doesn’t mean end of celebration. Reenactments of Christ’s Palm Sunday procession head toward the main square while Krakovians join along in traditional dress holding torch-like flower arrangements above their head. Easter music floods the square, and local vendors offer a spring-time specialty, Ocsypki – salty, grilled ewe's cheese served with a side of cranberry sauce.

Prague joins Krakow’s Easter celebration with as much eagerness or more. Church bells from the hundreds of Catholic, Hussite, and Orthodox churches announce Easter Sunday Masses. St. Vitus, Prague's national cathedral, invites celebs like cardinals and bishops to conduct the sacred sacrament. Full choirs sing angelic praises and low timbre organ music makes you think the Lord himself is entering, vibrating the pews and the people in them. And staying true to Prague international reputation, the Cardinal welcomes the congregation in four different languages and translates his homily into three.

Prague’s own Easter markets speckle main squares around town selling handpainted eggs in every color and design imaginable. The sweet smell of baked dough and almond (from spiraled, sugary pastries) fills the air. Local men (and tourists, too) purchase straw whips for their Easter Monday tradition – whipping the ladies in exchange for Easter eggs, candy, or brandy.

You haven't truly celebrated Easter until you've seen it in Eastern Europe.

Prague Pointers

2010-05-22T08:42:00.000-07:00

Despite the droves of tourists and the propensity of thievery, there are tricks of the trade for tourists wanting to make the most of their visit. Though magnificent from the outside, the castle's inside leaves much to be desired. The short tour at about $13 is all that is needed, if anything at all. A bit underwhelming on the inside, the outskirts of the castle complex is free to roam around. And the tourist highlight (St. Titus Cathedral) can be visited free of charge any day, or for Mass on Sundays.

For the music-lover visiting Prague, buy concert tickets at the Estates Theatre box office rather than street-side vendors. Not only will the performance be better and cheaper, but the inside of Estates is truly a memorable experience. Opened in the late-1800s, this theatre saw Mozart’s premiere of Don Giovanni in 1787. Sitting in the velvet seats and leaning over cushioned balcony barriers truly transports you to a time when powdered wigs were the fashion and classical music ruled.

Also worth a wander is Vyšehrad: Prague’s second largest castle complex. Though the castle itself has since been destroyed, the views from here are outstanding and you won't battle crowds like the other Prague attractions. Also housed there is one of the most picturesque cemeteries I've ever seen, where national heroes like Dvorak and Capek are buried. And if intricately carved headstones and mausoleums aren’t your cup of tea, a must-visit are the rampart casements at Vyšehrad. Spanning over 2 kilometers, tourists can climb through these tunneled passageways much like the way soldiers would in the case of a surprise attack. And the large room at the casement’s end offers a true surprise: the original statues of the Charles Bridge are housed here. That’s right, folks…those which currently stand on display on Old Town’s most prized attraction are mere replicas. (The tourist bureaus like to conveniently keep that under wraps.)

While Prague may frustrate travelers with pickpockets and crowds, there are plenty of ways to enjoy Prague people-free and pocket-friendly.

Czech Your Checkbook

2010-05-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

Over the past two decades, Prague has earned itself an international reputation as tourist-friendly and tourist-desirable. With awe inspiring skyline views and ease of navigation, the curious come from far and wide to “czech out” the Czech Republic for themselves. But travelers beware: there are countless ways to lose and use your money unnecessarily.

Pickpockets thrive in the Czech Republic. Scouting tourist areas, crowds, and crowded trams, all guidebooks give extensive warnings about the tricks of the pickpocket trade. But it’s not just pickpockets that need to be heeded. Count carefully your change (I saw even locals doing this) as many an entrepreneur will seek out opportunity to “miscount” what is owed back.

If the pickpockets and vendors don’t get you, the tourist traps will. Being the home to Dvorak (and home-away-from-home of Mozart), seeing a musical performance is a must. Unfortunately, every building with any sort of ambiance (and there are a lot of them in this well-preserved medieval city) advertise no-name performances at $25 per person or more. Sold on practically every street corner, they seem hardly worth the time or money.

Even Prague’s most celebrated attraction can be a rip-off if you’re not careful. Ticket vendors at Prague's castle push the audioguide as a necessity. As one vendor explained it to us, there are no signs or labeling inside making it impossible to navigate without a guide. Seeing that it doubled the price of an already steep admission, we took our chances. And to our surprise and relief, English descriptions were available in each room.

Yes, Prague has enthusiastically embraced the tourist industry on which it thrives. But along with it are the tourist traps. So heed my advice: czech your checkbook and hone your tourist savvy before embarking on your Prague adventure.

City of Fantasy: Part II

2010-05-16T09:17:00.000-07:00

It's not just the architecture that exudes fantasy in Prague. The cultural and artistic heartbeat of the city historically leans toward the surreal.

Though his name may not seem familiar to some, his work and style are. A native of the Czech Republic, Alphonse Mucha is the father of Art Nouveau. In the same vein as Gaudi's fantastical architecture, Art Nouveau is noted for taking the hard and fast lines of neoclasicism and softening reality with curves and flow. So much was Mucha's style celebrated in Prague even the national cathedral, St. Vitus, displays a Mucha-made stained glass window.

Like Mucha, Franz Kafka pays tribute to his home city of surrealist fantasy through his writing style. Most famous for his book The Metamorphosis, Kafka utilizes stylistic devises akin to magic realism. He blends a realistic atmosphere with magical elements and explains them as normal occurrences (like waking up as a bug). Even Prague's Kafka monument reflects this seemingly normal yet magical style:

Today, Prague still nurtures a bit of surrealness for its lovers of the arts by offering performances in the historic Estates Theater. The white neoclassic facade and roman columns pose a dominating air as one looks up. Inside, the creaky stairs that are far apart and a shallow grade give away the buildings true age. And the theatre salon itself appears much as it did when Mozart's Don Giovanni premiered in 1787.

Truth be told, Mozart felt more at home with audiences in Prague than his homestead. And who wouldn't with a theatre like the Estates. Its powered blue velvet chairs, overly ornate gold accents, and a chandelier that drips crystal over the center audience gives an air of aristocracy and wonder. Leaning over the velvet sided balcony rail and peering down onto the stage where Mozart himself conducted, the anachronistic surrealness of the experience overwhelms.

Through time and space, Prague has managed to maintain this artistic surrealness – a surrealness only fit for a City of Fantasy.

City of Fantasy: Part I

2010-05-13T08:39:00.000-07:00

You don't believe it until you actually see it. I'd been told by many that Prague was like Disneyland...but real. And they couldn't have been more right. Pastel facades intermingled with medieval architecture, and niceties that seem extravagant for the practicality of buildings. It is a Fantasyland in every sense of the word.

The train and metro stations were our arrival points to the city. And while Prague's main train station (Hlavni Nadrazi) was very much urban, our metro stop (also our grand entrance to the streets of Prague) did not disappoint. A beautifully baroque courtyard lined with manicured trees, white ceramic pots, and plastered sculptures provided us a Renaissance-esque welcome. Outside the courtyard walls, cobblestone streets led us past well-preserved buildings a couple hundred years old. Even our hotel in the Little Quarter played the part well, with hardwood flooring, creaky stairs, and a gothic cellar where breakfast was served each morning.

Lacking the more modern grid-system only added to the city's charm. Serpentine streets wind their way down toward St. Charles Bridge, across (the Vistula River, that is) to Prague's Old Town, or up to St. Vitus Cathedral. Prague's crowned jewel, however, isn't the view from above, its from across. Perhaps the most magical skyline in the world, day or night, St. Vitus Cathedral and the Royal Palace sit pinnacled in the Castle Quarter surrounded by spires, domes, and colorful roofs.

But perhaps the most fantastical wonder of this Fantasyland is Old Town's astronomical clock. Dating back to 1410, this clock was designed to measure the 24-hour day, sunlight hours (which obviously vary throughout the year), hours after sunset, zodiac positioning, and lunar phases. Adding to this mechanical wonder are 16 animated statues (the 12 apostles, Vanity, Death, Greed, and Infidelity) that perform on the hour. Though still mesmerizing tourists today, 600 years ago the clock, its mechanical capabilities, and its hourly "show" must have seemed a bit like magic.

And Prague truly is magical...a City of Fantasy even today.

Old World Charm

2010-05-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

Stepping into Krakow is like stepping back in time. With much of its medieval architecture surviving, you truly get a sense of the Old World. Red-roofed buildings with dominating facades tout a mixture of baroque, Renaissance, and Gothic styles. Coupled with cobblestone streets and impeccably preserved architecture (even the McDonald's opens its Gothic cellar to diners), one could easily lose themselves in time and space.

The Old Town and its square (Stare Miastro) are still lined with shops and bustling with vendors and consumers much as it was centuries ago. Though now people barter with money and trade for trinkets, you truly get the feel for what this market square once was. Dominating the square is Krakow's Sukiennce – once a major center of international trade and business negotiations, this Cloth Hall still functions today selling items of superfluity rather than necessity.

Seeing much prosperity during the Renaissance, Krakow still boast remnants of its Golden Age. Krakow embraced with alacrity the art, architecture and free thinking of this era. And who better to put Krakow on the map as the center for European Renaissance than the proponent of heliocentricism himself – Nicolaus Copernicus. Educated in Krakow at one of Europe's oldest university's, you can still visit the courtyard of Collegium Maius where Copernicus once studied and roamed.

Medieval charm and Renaissance resplendence will entice the curious and apprehensive alike. In fact, the only thing lacking charm is the city's name – Krakow literally means "City of Krak" (and the most expensive real estate in town – the top floor of the "Boner Palace," a mighty erection indeed).

Luck of the Polish

2010-05-06T08:19:00.000-07:00

Unlike Warsaw that saw most of its history and everything that stood for it razed to the ground, Poland's former capitol suffered little damage during the world wars and appears much as it did centuries ago. Why Krakow was spared, no one knows for sure. But German immigrants did build much of what stands today, so perhaps a feeling of entitlement and good German pride were enough to save it from destruction.

It wasn't just German occupation either that threatened this city's history and charm. After all Krakow didn't gain complete independence until after World War II despite its long history. After nearly being destroyed by Tartar raids in the 13th century, it was imperiled by foreign king succession and rule, a Swedish invasion, and numerous partitions by Prussia, Russia, and Hungary. By the time the German's got to it, it was a small miracle the city was still standing!

Krakow hasn't just survived these times discord and potential destruction; it has come out of this harsh history practically unscathed! The inner wall of the city, which protected Krakow from the Tartar invasions, still stands. Jagiellonian University's Collegium Maius has educated its students since the late 15th century. Kings have been coronated on the historic Wawel Hill since 1320. And the prominent Barbican, built in 1499, was never tested in battle.

Perhaps divine intervention played a role in protecting the city for so long. Krakovians actually have a saying that if Rome weren't Rome, Krakow would be Rome. With so many churches – and of course Krakow being the city where Pope JP II's academic, linguistic, and spiritual propensities blossomed – it's difficult not to believe the good Lord had a hand in its survival.

Or perhaps we've simply misjudge European luck all this time. I mean the Irish may have been fortunate, but I think "Luck of the Polish" is a bit more apropos.

Potato Pancakes, Pierogi, and Other Polish Pleasures

2010-04-26T08:14:00.000-07:00

While Poland is probably known more for its recent tragic history than anything else, one thing that sustained war and strife is its rich culinary heritage. From delectable drinks to traditional fare, Poland’s food is sure to please.

Soups with bread for dipping is a must for Polish cuisine. Made from homemade and thick tomatoes or the lighter sweet and sour beet root, the cold weather necessities this starting course. Paired with the traditional Polish pilsners like Zywiec or Okocim, cold drinks complement the warm starters well. But for those looking for a bit of the “special” in their choice of beverage, try the hot chocolate. This Polish specialty is literally what the name implies: thick rich melted chocolate available in white, milk, or dark.

As for main courses, plate-size potato pancakes, softball-size pork knuckle, and Kielbasa served street-side are musts. And the late night cuisine of choice? Zapiekanka. This Polish style pizza served on baguette topped with cheese, ketchup, and choice of topping complements well an evening of beer drinking. But bring a friend when you order...you may need a bit of help eating it!
While potato pancakes, pork knuckle, and pizza are staples in Polish cuisine, the king of them all is pierogi. Arriving in quantities from 6 to 12, these Polish ravioli-type snacks come in all tastes and flavors. Fillings range from potato with cheese (Ruskie) to spinach to groats and liver (Kresowe) and are typically topped with onion infused oil and pork drippings if you’re lucky. Or for a bit of a gourmet twist on the traditional try pierogis stuffed with lentil, chicken, or chickpeas.

Polish cuisine is more than just a pleasant surprise, it's a truly pleasurable culinary experience.

A Little Night Music

2010-04-22T08:35:00.000-07:00

Since Warsaw seems to be the city of music, I found it apropos to attend a local concert one evening while here. As luck would have it, I happened upon the Frederic Chopin University of Music en route to the Chopin Museum (closed for renovations). The Music School's information desk attendant didn't speak English and I speak no Polish. So between hand signals, a couple of in-common words, and the universal language of numbers I was able to gather the following:

There was in fact a concert to attend that evening (I think "concert" is a Polish cognate).
It started at either 5 or 7 o'clock (she held up 5 fingers and then slowly brought up two others on her unoccupied hand...not sure what that meant).
And it was free (rubbing two fingers on my thumb – the universal sign for "money" – cleared that up).

I wasn't quite sure what I was in for, but I was pretty certain it would be good. Gambling with the time, I opted for a 7pm start. But upon entering the university building, I immediately got the feeling I misread the situation entirely. There were as may children as there were adults, and the long lines at the candy machine seemed to indicate an intermission of sorts. Well shoot...I missed half the concert, but perhaps it was for the better. After all, it seemed to be a family recital night and I'd probably hear more squeaks and squeals than actually notes being played. If I hadn't been a former band geek I probably would have left. Boy I'm glad I didn't.

The first group to perform was a cello and two-violin trio. The oldest couldn't have been more than 10. As I thought back to my beginner bassoon lessons, I closed my eyes and braced myself for the blow. But "blow" they did not! They weren't just good; they could have beat out college trios I've heard perform. Not only was intonation and technique there, but the oldest violin player had clearly been coached in the performance-end of violin playing...acting out her music in movement.

And it just got better...a solo trumpet that missed only one note; a flute, clarinet, and piano trio that performed technique beyond their years; and five guitars playing classically (not strumming) in complete unison. Just when I thought the performances couldn't be topped, out walks a full sting orchestra followed by an 8-year-old. The young girl greeted the first chair violinist and cellist with handshakes then proceeded to not only play, but to lead the entire orchestra using her movements as cues.

At the end, the prodigy received an encore ovation, and floral arrangements and bouquets were presented in honor of her grand performance. Apparently Warsaw not only eats, drinks, and breathes classical music, but even the kids play it damn well!

A City of Music

2010-04-19T06:54:00.000-07:00

Never have I visited a city where music is so much a part of the everyday. Both in concert and improvisational, you can’t wander too far in Warsaw without hearing piano concertos, violin solos, or melodious ensembles. Even Warsaw’s airport pays tribute to this fact, having been named for its famed composer Frederic Chopin.

Taking the Royal Walk along Krakowskie Przedmieście shoves you right into the musical world of Warsaw. Benches inscribed with tidbits about Chopin’s life play recorded piano music upon prompting. Chopin even left a tidbit of himself on the Royal Walk – his heart is in the left-side pillar of Holy Cross Church under the biblical inscription "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." At the end of the Royal Walk you’ll find the home of probably the most ornate (and ostentatious) organ you’ve ever seen. Dominating the choir coral at the back of St. Anne’s Cathedral is a gilded silver and gold organ (the picture, compliments of nzorgan.com, just does not do it justice). Visit St. Anne’s for Mass and you’ll be pleasantly rewarded with organ and solo tenor duets throughout the service.

The Royal Castle also celebrates the city’s love of the classical by frequently offering chamber music concerts within its royal walls. The palace’s Great Assembly Hall instantly transports you to a time when composers were like gods, white wigs were the fashion, and the luxuries of the rich were celebrated without reserve. Concertgoers are seated in velvet cushioned chairs surrounded by gold trimmed mirrors and marble columns. Twenty gilt bronze scones strategically line the walls between mirrors and crystal chandeliers delicately light the chamber. With seating for just a small crowd, it shows the audience how chamber music gets its name. Despite the room's "large" name, listeners sit in close quarters with room for just a couple hundred. The acoustics of the room, assisted by its small size, delicately swirls the music of small ensembles above, around, and between listeners as it is isolated, blended, and resolved. Listening to chamber music in situ is an experience that truly can't be replicated.

But music isn't just isolated in concert halls and royal palaces. Just take a walk around the Old Town and you'll see what I mean. Out of a second story balcony, a woman hangs her laundry as recorded orchestra music floats out from French doors. Music students lay violin cases street-side while playing Vivaldi’s Spring in exchange for tips. And out of a basement window, bassoon and trumpet warm up chromatically while the strings of a violin whine as they are tuned.

For the many tourists and locals, music is what makes the town. But perhaps it is possible to have too much of a good thing:

Walking the Walk in Warsaw

2010-04-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

Walking is the only way to see Warsaw. With hundreds of must-sees within this bustling city, the majority of sites are walking distance from the main city center. And even for the tourist who is averse to walking, Warsaw makes it easy. The 2.5 mile Royal Walk in the heart of the tourist district lines itself with the more notable sights and beautifully reconstructed architecture. The Old Town Square just north of the walk immediately brings you back to an age of renaissance. With performing minstrels, colorful architecture, and a European propensity for outdoor-eating venues, it has been so accurately reconstructed that UNESCO named it a World Heritage Site.

From here Castle Square provides a Royal Entrance to the Royal Walk. The red-brick facade and clock tower of the Royal Castle dominate the square during the day and at night is eerily illuminated. Once the seat of Polish monarchs, it now sees thousands of visitors every day and serves as a venue for governmental meetings and concerts. But perhaps its most impressive characteristic isn't its imposing structure; rather, it is the two Rembrandts hung side-by-side within its walls.

Leaving the castle and continuing to walk down Krakowskie Przedmieście, any Warsaw walker will immediately note the lack of cars....really, could Warsaw make this any easier? Not only are most sights within walking distance, but the street along which they reside is a cobblestone and brick pedestrian walkway.

While sights like St. Anne's Church, Hotel Bristol, University of Warsaw, and Staszic Palace please the eye, even the Royal Castle is not what's most notable about this walk. What is truly amazing is that only 60 years ago, the Royal Walk and Old Town were completely destroyed. The impeccably reconstructed city, along with it a reconstructed Polish pride, is a testament to the Varsovian people...a people who have truly walked the walk.

Wanderng About Warsaw

2010-04-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

It didn't take long, did it. Less than 6 months back in the States and wanderlust got the best of me. Truth be told, I had a conference to attend. That's what brought me to Warsaw. But why not play tourist for a bit while I'm here, right?

I'm not sure what I expected to see upon arrival in Poland. Perhaps a bit run down, yet functional? Maybe a bit depressing, yet still potential for a good time? After all, the devastation seen by Warsaw and its people is only recent history. But the city has come back with avengeance. Despite being "razed to the ground" during Nazi occupation, almost a third of its population being killed, and decades of post-WWII communist leadership, Warsaw is worth your time to wander.

Diversity of architecture is an understatement to day the least. Old Town reconstructions and cobblestone streets pay tribute to the buildings that once were, and scattered among these are communist-era "quick-fix" buildings that still stand tall. Both stand side-by-side with modern shopping malls that could challenge (in both size and construction) those found in the States.

The city is impeccably clean. Rubbish lying street-side is practically non-existent, and the street cleaning crews (who obviously take their jobs very seriously) meticulously scrape gum residue from sidewalk surfaces as part of their jobs. Aside from the more obvious graffiti found on old and new buildings alike, Warsaw could claim rank with cities like Singapore for cleanliness.

Cobblestone streets add to the Old World atmosphere, but crossing them can be a game of chicken: it’s a challenge of wills between driver and pedestrian with the drivers winning out most of the time. But with a little boldness (and a lot of guts) you can safely travel by foot to almost all the attractions in Warsaw.

First stop for any visitor must be the towering Palace of Culture and Science. Built by the Russians during their Eastern bloc reign, it was meant as a gift to the people of Poland and is the tallest building in the country. Though the inside houses nothing of significance, the outside causes even the most unobservant to stop and pause.

But perhaps dominating more than this Russian-style "palace" is music. Part of Warsaw’s tradition, history, and passion (and something that couldn’t be destroyed by the Nazis), Varsovians embrace this art form with alacrity and you can't wander too far in Warsaw without being swept away by it yourself.

The International Terminal

2010-04-09T23:12:00.000-07:00

The lopsided, deliberate gait of an African woman catches my eye as I wait in line to check bags. Averting her eyes from the happenstance gaze of others, she slowly comes to a halt and patiently waits for her husband. He is wearing black leather shoes with cuffed pants that are a little too big. His two large canvas suitcases have the words “Port Harcourt” printed on paper and taped to the suitcases’ sides. As he lifts his leg to the baggage belt for footing I see he wears no socks. He stands like this for a moment, watches for the weight to register, and begins to shake his head.

An attendant beside this man signals for me. It is my turn to check in. I only have one bag for my 3-week trip and my load is light. I hand over my passport as I hear the soft yet full-timbred voice of the man in leather shoes and no socks. He tries to negotiate an extra 5 kilos for his canvas bag, filled no doubt with gifts and goods hard to come by in Nigeria. My passport is handed back to me and the African woman looks at nothing as I walk toward the security gate.

In front of me in the security line are two women, friends, both dressed in black. The woman closest to me wears tight plaits in her coarse hair which are pulled back halfway allowing for the plaits to hang low down her back. Her friend wears a high pony tail or bun, I can’t tell which, nor can I tell her hair color. The scarf she wears over her head is unnaturally pushed up in the back, like a bustle, concealing the details of the hair I cannot see. She caries a North Face backpack over one shoulder, but soon slips a silk-covered arm through the unoccupied strap. Her scarf is caught underneath. The woman with plaits touches the head scarf with perfunctory movement and pulls it from the tangle the backpack has caused.

We pass through security and I look for my gate. The waiting area is large and I choose from the more secluded seats behind a partial wall at the back. A final call for the flight before me is announce in Mandarin. I listen to the announcement, only understanding the Chinese numbers, then wait for the English translation. I watch people come down the escalator into the waiting area for my flight. I can tell which passengers are American and I see the Nigerian couple from Port Harcourt.

I am distracted from the escalator by movement behind a nearby pole. Another passenger, a man, has slipped into the same secluded area as me. Paying me no notice (or perhaps not noticing me) he begins to kneel, then falls prostrate. The direction the man faces seems skewed within the infrastructure of the surrounding room. I look away since there is no prayer room to offer him privacy.

My flight is announced in German, then English. Boarding pass in hand, I approach the attendant at the jetway. He thinks I’m German and exchanges the appropriate pleasantries then points me through the door. My trip has begun.

Korea: The Skinny on Korean Cuisine

2010-04-06T08:50:00.000-07:00

Guest Blogger: Laura Seewoester
Much like Koreans have a rich culture and history, they also have a rich (and tasty) culinary tradition to please any foodie’s palette. Most of the meals (eaten in restaurants, anyway) involve a Hibachi table in some form or fashion. Their most well known eating experience would be the Korean barbecue. You order different cuts of meat, cut them with scissors and grill them on the grill conveniently located in the middle of the table. The grilled meat pieces are then wrapped in lettuce, and any variety of onions, more lettuces, and sauces are added to taste.

The Korean cuisine also includes a lot of soups and stews, also cooked at the table. Shabu Shabu is more a feast than a meal and is eaten in phases. First a mildly spicy, tomato based broth with vegetables is heated and eaten at the table. Then small, usually thinly sliced pieces of meat are added to the remaining broth. Once all the meat is eaten, you add thick noodles. As if that wasn’t enough food, once the table is finished with the noodles the waitress comes over and takes out what remains, then cooks up some fried rice in the remaining, now reduced, brothy goodness.

We had other stews, or chigae, cooked at the table, containing delectable treats such as bulgogi (thinly sliced beef) and nakji (octopus). We ate these stews mostly when so little English/Korean was spoken by the respective parties that the waitresses just kind of took care of us. (Hats off to those ladies by the way – they were very hospitable and mighty excellent cooks.) Banchan, the various little dishes served before your food comes out, also accompanied every meal. The Banchan served differed from place to place but always included Korean’s beloved kimchi.

Should you find yourself in a Korean restaurant, other yummy dishes include pajeon (a savory pancake with anything from green onion and kimchi to seafood), dolsot bibimbap (my favorite, a rice dish served in a stone hotpot with a raw egg cracked over it that is cooked when you stir it all up), and any kind of mandu (dumpling) because let's face it...dumplings are awesome in any way, shape, form, or fashion.

Despite their distinctive cuisine, Korea has taken to some Western eats and they aren’t afraid to put their own spin on it. Not only does the McDonald’s serve up a Bulgogi Burger, but Korea has its own answer to fast food: Lotteria. Lotteria is eerily similar to McDonald’s, serving up burgers, soft drinks, and fries, and the décor is very McDonald-red. They also offer up options with a Korean flair including a Kimchi Burger, shrimp burger, and a spicy squid burger made of squid mixed with sweet potato.

While Korea seems generally proud holding on to many traditions, one tradition they seem to have pushed aside is tea. I expected to try (and bring home) all kinds of teas on my travels; however, the tea was expensive both by the cup and by the leaf. We are talking $6 a cup or $20 for about 30 teabags. There were a few teahouses but they (and their prices) seemed to be more geared towards tourists than tradition. Instead, coffee seems to be the Korean caffeinated beverage of choice.

Korea: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

2010-04-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

Guest Blogger: Laura Seewoester
Korea has a gentle mix of new, old, and old world. Koreans are super techno freaks. Everybody, young and old, is glued to his or her cell phone (not unlike us text-happy Americans). Wi-fi is available almost everywhere, and apparently gaming addiction is a real issue, no doubt perpetuated by the very popular internet café type establishments called “PC bang.” Despite their progressive attitude towards technology, walking around Seoul is like stepping back into the 1950s.

The men all wear suits, the businessmen still participate in the 3 (or 7) martini lunches, the women dress to the nines and they smoke everywhere. Throw in a mild dose of Korean machismo and you almost feel like you’re in a different time period, at least until you see someone fidgeting with their cell, laptop, or other gadget of sorts.

Cut to Korea’s rich ancient history and the temples, gardens, and artifacts to go with it and you get an interesting juxtaposition. While one may yearn for a picturesque city full of pagoda houses and Buddhist temples, even in Gyeongju, a city of about 250,000 that was once the seat of the great Shilla empire, the temples and old burial mounds are set on a backdrop of tall buildings and neon.

Korea: Engrish Friendly?

2010-03-29T08:34:00.000-07:00

Guest Blogger: Laura Seewoester
At first glance, Seoul appears to be incredibly English friendly with a smorgasbord of American ads and a few English labels slapped on public transportation signs. Scratch the surface a little, though, and you realize it’s just an illusion.

In general the people speak very little English (aside from the students constantly saying “hello” or telling JP he is "very handsome") and you find yourself searching for restaurants that look like the menus sport a lot of pictures. While every child in Korea now, by law, must have at least two years of English taught by a native speaker, the law was only enacted about 10 years ago leaving the tourists and expats biding their time for those English grassroots to sprout.

Why the sudden interest in their country speaking English? I’m sure it’s a combination of things. English is a popular language affording more opportunities to those that speak it. I also have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of it boils down to one thing: money. Korea supports business growth, much like Japan, and English is definitely the global language of business. Just look at Hong Kong, a place where English is almost second nature and business is thriving. One must wonder if Korea has looked at Hong Kong and tried to follow suit.

Regardless of why, English speaking tourists will have a much easier go at it in about 10 years, once the students have grown up and start running things. Until then if you go to Korea, charades will get you by.

Side note: What do the Japanese tourists do to communicate in Korea? The same as all the other tourists: they speak English!

Warm Welcome to Our Guest Blogger

2010-03-26T08:24:00.000-07:00

Currently, I'm on an extended trip abroad. In my absence, Laura Seewoester (photojournalist and my sister) will be giving you a glimpse into her most recent Asian experience – her trip to Korea. Here's just a bit of what's to come:

Korea’s winter dawn creeps in, cold and gray as steel with the stealth of a cat stalking its prey. Morning is already upon you before you even notice it’s there. The people trudge along in their routines, shroud in heavy coats while the women shiver in pantyhose and high heels, no doubt waiting restlessly for their flowery spring to bloom.

As the winter leaves Korea, all things Korean seem to be shroud in contradiction. While I was only there about 10 days, this is an observation I came across in more ways than one, and I’m sure it runs much deeper than a mere traveler can pick up in less than two weeks.

A Truly Zinful Day

2010-03-22T11:57:00.000-07:00

For those willing to venture from the safe confines of the tourist track, hop on the 128 past Calistoga and your venturing will be rewarded. Though the destination is the treat itself, this drive will awe the unsuspecting and suspecting alike. Running only two lanes, CA-128 takes you through some of the best scenery I've seen in Northern California.

Twisting and turning for almost 20 miles, the road is tree-lined the entire way. Hills on one side, grapes on another, and moss eerily drooping down between gnarled branches of the surrounding trees gives a Wizard of Oz-type entrance to Napa's lesser-regarded neighbor. And the road's final destination is truly Zinful. Healdsburg, though a bit less desireable than Napa both in distance and reputation, to me is the crowned jewel of wine country.

With gazebo in town square, boutique shops on the periphery, and cute restaurants speckled in between, shoppers, wanderers, winers, and diners will arrive feeling welcomed and leave feeling satisfied. Unlike Napa, where it can be hard to get away from the beaten track, a quick five-minute drive out of town square takes you to dozens of wineries nestled in the hills.

Old and new vine Zinfandel is what the area is known for, and with the famous Rockpile AVA close by the wines are delectable to say the least. Fruity and big yet not overpowering in tannin, you can't go wrong with Sonoma Valley Zin. My personal favorites: Rosenblum in the square, Sausal for something smaller, and Mauritias for sheer quality. The experience at Jordan can't be beat (check out our picture with the wine maker!). And although Ridge didn't meet my over-hyped expectations, the wines were still good and the view of the vineyard is not to be missed.

An out-of-town guest is a good excuse to go (thanks Suzanne for coming along!). But locals really have not excuse for skipping out. After all, a trip to wine country is not complete without a little Zinning.

Knowing Napa

2010-03-19T05:14:00.000-07:00

People come from far and wide to visit California's most renown wine region. So how long has it been around, what's the big hype, and why has Napa gained the reputation it has?

Like most of the wineries in the United States, Napa's wine industry started in the 1800s. With Charles Krug, Shramsburg, Chateau Montelena, and Beringer leading the pack, these pioneers helped start a tradition in Napa that still thrives today. Though it wasn't without its setbacks. Prohibition, industry-threatening stalk-root mites, earthquakes, and a less-than-stellar reputation in the eyes of French wine connoisseurs all jeopardized the success of California-based wines.

After surviving legal restrictions, pestilence, and natural disaster, reputation was all that stood in its way. Finally, in 1976 Napa flexed its fruit against the big bad Bordeauxs of France and finally put themselves on the map. In a France vs. California blind taste test (Paris Wine Tasting of 1976), Stag's Leap (Cabernet Sauvignon) and Chateau Montelena (Chardonnay) bested long-time stalwarts know for being top in France. Among the other California wineries appearing in the top ten were: Ridge, Heitz, Clos Du Val, Mayacamas, Freemark Abbey, Chalone, Spring Mountain, Veedercrest, and David Bruce. Since then, tourists and locals have come by car, bus, plane, and train to taste for themselves why Napa is, well, Napa.

But how does Napa get the variety and quality of grapes that it does? Running almost 10-times as long as it is wide, the area we call Napa Valley actually consists of a number of sub-regions (Yountville, St. Helena, Oakville, and Calistoga just to name a few). Each of the sub-regions (and even regions within each sub-region) all have differing climates, differing elevations, and differing soil. In fact, Napa Valley boasts over half of all soil types found in the entire world! Hence, the sheer number of grapes types that can grow here is vast, and even the same varietals yield very different characteristics based on where in Napa they grow.

So you see, like wine connoisseurs themselves who place great value on the balance of complexity in their wines, Napa grapes come from a vast array of complex environmental conditions that make them superior.

Navigating Napa

2010-03-15T14:26:00.000-07:00

I have admittedly and purposely avoided visiting Napa Valley. Perhaps it was the hype, perhaps it was Napa's "connoisseur" reputation, or maybe it was a bit of both. But after standing my ground for nearly a year, and with our recent move that puts me 15 miles closer, I finally paid a visit to California's most renowned wine region.

Having gained worldwide popularity in the 1970s by beating out several French stalwarts in a blind tasting, Napa wines have since been known as the best in the U.S. And for the most part, Napa lived up to its long-held reputation. But a couple words of warning for the newbies who may be navigating through the Napa Valley.

1. Do your research before you go. With limited capacity for true and unbiased tasting (5 wineries in one day is pushing it), you don't want to waste your tastes. Even with recommendations from reliable and well-honed tasters, we still hit a couple of duds. Ask fellow wine tasters for their Napa "no misses," and make sure to let them know your varietal tendencies.

2. Get off the beaten track. While the Silverado Trail is a good bet, boasting more than 40 of the valley's wineries, don't forget the wineries you can't see from the road. Winding roads that climb and traverse the surrounding hills branch out in all directions and offer a quite seclusion that the "over-infrastructured" main thoroughfares cannot.

3. Bigger is not necessarily better. Often, the bigger wineries will sell their distributed wines at inflated costs (check Safeway for the real deals), while the undistributed wines are hardly worth the $75+ price mark. Hit a couple smaller wineries. They most likely don't have distribution contracts, have owners that are motivated by quality over production numbers, and often are run as a hobby funded by fortunes made in other industries.

4. Don't let the name "Napa" fool you. Ask how much acreage each winery actually has in Napa. As we discovered, many of the wineries buy their grapes from elsewhere or have less acreage in Napa than the winery I work at in Livermore. Putting your winery in Napa does not a Napa wine make.

And finally, our list of enjoyers and avoiders. Don't miss Pina, Fontanella, or O'Brien. And unless you enjoy $35 tasting fees, Opus is worth a pass.

Cultural Revolution

2010-03-11T08:53:00.000-08:00

San Francisco's Chinatown has been a centerpoint for Asian culture since the late 1800s. Only recently surpassed by New York's Chinatown for largest Chinese population outside of Asia, it has maintained its diversity, culture, language, and way of life for a century and a half. So how has Chinatown managed to resist both assimilation by its residents and gentrification by other neighborhoods? History may give us a clue...

The major influx of Chinese immigrants began in 1848. California's gold rush brought not only pioneers from east to west but enticed folks from the Far East as well. Jobs were thought to be numerous, and many Chinese intended to get rich quick then leave. With plans to return home soon, the attitude, mentality, and need to "fit in" just weren't there.

Well, we all know how this story ends. Few found gold in the rush to get rich. And like the locals, the Chinese immigrants found themselves with empty pockets and homes too far away to afford the return ticket. But the rich Chinese culture stayed as did the resistance to the American culture that surrounded them. And the minute you set foot on Portsmouth Square, you'll see exactly what I mean.

Benchsitters read Chinese newspapers, groups of men coop together for gambling matches, and English conversation seems a world away. It literally could be a square in Pick-Your-City, China. With firecrackers popping for the Chinese New Year and laundry hanging from windows and balconies, the only clue that you haven't been transported yourself are the financial district buildings peaking in the skyline.

Perhaps it's camaraderie. Perhaps it's population density (10-times San Francisco's average). Regardless, Chinatown's population has managed to maintain reminders of home. Wet markets with cheap produce and fresh fish line the sides of Stockton Street. Dim Sum and tea are the consumables of choice. And in true Chinese entrepreneurial style, the San Francisco-born tradition of Fortune Cookies (that's right, they're American-made) can be purchased and photographed for nominal fees.

Despite its proximity to San Francisco's commercial and financial centers, Chinatown's cultural revolution has managed to hold its ground for over 150 years.

Shopping for the Exotic

2010-03-08T08:06:00.000-08:00

If you are like me, any visit to a semi-exotic place includes an obligatory visit to the local market. From live squirmy things that we don't even keep as pets, to beautifully rich and colorful vegetation, to local tchotchkes taunting tourists to purchase, markets are often where we go for a bite-size glimpse into a foreign culture and land.

But as I headed out today to run my own local errands, it occurred to me just how exotic the unexotic may seem. For many, farmer's markets are summertime novelties, and visiting them is considered an "outing" rather than an errand. In Northern California, however, marketing is a way of life for both the farmers and consumers.

Northern California's climate is not just desirable for its residents, but its resident vegetation as well. And the variety of local produce and numerous farmer's markets attest to this. Offering both fresher products, a more eco-friendly infrastructure (it is "local" after all), and more reasonable prices than the grocery store, it's not a surprise how many Bay Area residents rely on them and their products. With our own WindMill Farms closed only from mid-December to mid-February, fresh, local, and organic products of top-notch quality are available practically year-round.

And even though our local market doesn't sell tchotchkes, I'm sure any foreign visitor would find a bit of the exotic right here in California.

Testimonial of a Californian

2010-03-04T10:35:00.000-08:00

Yes...it is official. After my uneventful visit to the DMV (shouldn't there have been some sort of ceremony as I changed ranks), I am now a bona fide, legally bound Californian. Though I'm not yet sure exactly what that means, I do know it comes with certain, eh hem, entitlements:

Our housing prices make two-income households struggle.
The state government is entitled to 10% of my income.
What the government does with that money is beyond me.
Among other educational cutbacks, highschool extracurricular sporting activities are down by half from last year (I wonder what students do in their spare time now).
Our governor (or should I say governator) is a former actor.
Our future governor could quite possible be a dot-commer-turned-millionaire (or is it billionaire now; how well is eBay doing these days?).
Gas prices make me think twice about driving down the street, much less driving across town. We have one of the highest averages in the nation!
I am now a drop in the population bucket, joining the 10% of the country's total who live here.

But despite all the drawbacks that come with residing in the Golden State, there is one good thing I still can say (and I say it with my utmost humbleness): I now live where others vacation!

The Dreaded DMV

2010-03-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

One of my most dreaded tasks as a new-state transplant is visiting the DMV. Transferring car titles, driver's licenses, and registrations never seems to go as smoothly as planned. So armed with car insurance, SMOG test results, and of course my checkbook, I prepared for the worst.

As I approached California's DMV, I had vivid flashbacks of long lines, rude employees, and inefficient procedures at the Chicago's Drivers Facility eight years previously. There, I spent 3 hours in line for about 3 minutes of service (pose, snap, and pay). And I got off easy. There was a woman from Poland being berated by a state employee while trying to take the driving test in English (why they don't have Polish driving tests in the city with the largest Polish population outside of Warsaw is beyond me).

From the driver's license line, I moved to another line for title and registration transfer (another 2 hour wait). I guess multi-tasking is not status quo for the State of Illinois. There I met yet another poor soul being yelled at about problems with his title. Being from South America and speaking limited English, I asked the man in Spanish what seemed to be the problem and helped as I could. After 5 long hours of waiting and watching other's being verbally abused, I was free to drive legally (and park illegally) in Illinois.

Seeing as my past experience was a bit traumatic, I approached California's DMV with apprehension (and praying no one yelled at me). With cuts in government spending, which meant cuts in DMV hours, I'd been warned of lines circling the building and astronomical wait times. And with employee hours cut, they most certainly wouldn't be in good moods! Boy was I in for a surprise...

The non-descript architecture, tiled floors, and subdued atmosphere were the worst things I would see that morning. The process itself was efficient, with a "front man" making sure I had what I needed before I faced the wait-time. Once inside, there were chairs (not lines) to comfortably await my turn, and in less than 30 minutes I was face-to-face with a pleasant DMV employee. Name change, written test, license, vehicle inspection, payment receipts, and title and registration were all processed in less than 2 hours. Considering I was getting "the works," this was darn fast by my standards.

So for all those Californians who complain about the DMV, count yourselves lucky. You could be driving in Illinois!

Alamo Uncovered

2010-02-27T06:26:00.000-08:00

When we first moved to Alamo (the SF suburb we call home), I was embarrassed to tell people where I lived. After all it was known for being snooty, expensive, and exclusive, and that's not how I roll. But like the Alamo in Texas, it seemed to belie its reputation. Home-size is small, it lies smack dab on a major road, and building architecture is simple. This was not the quaint, quiet, and cushy reputation that the name "Alamo" seemed to exude. So where was the money and the people who had it? Well, today I found out.

Wanting to check out the close-by trails of Las Trampas Region Park, I decided to follow Las Trampas Road and see where it took me. Intuitive enough, right? But instead of encountering trails as I had expected, I came face-to-face with the fortune behind the community's fame.

Closest to my humble abode lie the small quaint houses whose residents could afford professionally manicured lawns. But as Las Trampas Road got steeper the home prices did too. Bigger lots, better views, until finally I reached the top. Private property, private roads, gates that opened by remote, winding grandiose driveways that led to multi-million dollar homes, with panoramic views of Mt. Diablo and the rolling hills of the East Bay.

While I did eventually find the trails, I found myself more mesmerized with the Maseratis and mansions than the nature surrounding them. With stucco homes and terra-cotta roofs, stones embedded strategically random on facades, and trellises of vines that seemed as much for decoration as production, Alamo lives up to the reputation that precedes it.

Make It, Or Break It

2010-02-25T07:16:00.000-08:00

For the past two weeks, I (and probably everyone else in America) have been mesmerized by the Olympics. Speedskaters being disqualified, the Canadians most revered sport ending in upset, and America's first medals in a sport dominated by Europe for 86 years. But along with the actual competitions come the stories: stories of strife, stories of disappointment, and stories of dreams coming true.

There's Tugba Karademir. A figure skater from Turkey who is the first to represent her country in her Olympic sport. But it did not come without a price. Her mother left her job as an engineer in Turkey so her daughter could train in Canada. Both parents now work menial jobs, and could not even land tickets to watch their daughter perform until an unknown benefactor stepped in.

There's Olympic ski crosser Chris Del Bosco, who has struggled with substance and alcohol abuse. After being stripped of two US national titles and being found drunk in a ditch with a broken neck, he entered rehab. Now being clean and sober, he is one of Canada's finest.

We, as Americans, love these stories of tribulation and triumph. But elsewhere in the world, they are not so revered. I remember a conversation I had with a friend before I left Singapore. His upbringing was less than stellar: his grandmother raised him, being abandoned by his mother. And the mother–son relationship today barely deserves the label "relationship." He has had to make success for himself, with little support from others. When I heard his story, I thought "that's a story that American dreams are made of." But according to him, Singaporean stories of struggle don't boost, they blemish.

When he opened my eyes to this fact, I thought back to my time in Nigeria. Not only were stories of tribulation and triumph not appreciated, they were the stories of everyone's lives. It's not just the poor, it's not just the middle-class. Everyone has trials, everyone has tragedy. And having money or an advantaged-life doesn't preclude you to a life without them.

So last night when I opted for American Idol instead of Olympics and the stories began again, I felt a little less sensitive. The story of Andrew Garcia whose parents were in gangs and they only sought a gang-free life for their son. The story of John Park whose family has struggled with money their entire lives. The stories were as much a gauge of success as the performance itself.

You see, here in the United States, our "stories" often make our success. Who knew that elsewhere they might break it.

Greener Pastures

2010-02-16T06:37:00.000-08:00

"The hills are aliiiiiiive, with the sound of miiiiuuuuu-ziiiiiiiik...." So I never quite understood the opening scene of Julie Andrews' most acclaimed film. Her character Maria probably saw those hills day in and day out, so what was the big deal? No one spins around in the mountain air, basks in the beauty of their surroundings, and begins an inspirational rendition of a song about hills. They are just hills after all.

Now I'm not a singer; nor am I one to get caught up in emotion, especially emotion aroused by aesthetics or natural phenomenon. But for the first time in my life, I've had a Julie Andrews experience...and on a daily basis to boot. While many fly to the Bay Area for the city, just over the Pleasanton Ridge lies an area that is truly God's county.

Green in the spring and golden in the winter, the hills of the East Bay make one take pause. Their gentle undulation makes you understand why hills "roll." The golden tint of thirst grass and the electric green aura when it's satisfied leads eyes to leave the road and look ahead. The only blemishes you see are the shadows of clouds as they too peer down on the beauty; the only halt in the aimless roll of grassy vegetation are the trellises of vines, flanked and orderly. Even at night, the hills don't lose their beauty as the illuminated curve of headlights traverse through them, back home.

Truth be told, I have not yet run up into the hills and begun to sing. But if you happen upon a news story about a mysterious woman in the hills, running in circles and reciting a very bad rendition of the Sound of Music, you just may know where to find her!

***Thanks to http://www.pedalpushersonline.com for the use of their East Bay photo...I think my sister is the only one who could replicate such a beautiful scene in a picture.

Bay Area Boasting

2010-02-13T08:52:00.000-08:00

So as a relative newcomer to the state that rivals Texas for second biggest, there are some very apparent differences both in surroundings, customs, and the just plain 'ole everyday. Yes, there is the obvious: Tex-Mex errs more to the Mex than the Tex; gas prices hang closer to the European than the U-S-of-A averages; and pasta or tortilla chips in the shape of the Golden State are nowhere to be found. But what stands out most is what you see outside....people!

Walking, talking, biking, hiking, riding, sliding...Northern Californians love the outdoors. And for good reason. With perfect weather, picturesque surroundings year-round, and day-trip
options when the former don't please, there is no reason to hide inside. Case in point:

Less than 50 feet from our townhouse is the historic Iron Horse Regional Trail. Named for the iron tracks of the Southern Pacific Railroad that used to occupy the now-asphalt surface, East Bay residents from surrounding areas loiter and exercise daily along this 40+-mile trail. Walkers and runners, bikers and even horse riders hailing from the homes nearby come here to celebrate the reason why they live where they live.

Just up the road, lying west of Danville and Alamo (our new home-away-from-home in the East Bay), Las Trampas offers numerous hiking trails up to its summit at 2,000 feet. For those inclined toward more adventure (and more athleticism) try hiking Mount Diablo. Just east of Danville, this state park allows hikers and bikers to climb bottom to top and even stand on its actual summit (which is exposed inside the visitor's center).

Even for those who prefer sliding down hills rather than hiking up them, Lake Tahoe is just a few-hours drive away. With slopes traversing state lines, picturesque views of the lake from above, and A+ skiing and snowboarding (and those are just the winter activities), it's no wonder the Bay Area has over 7 million people living here.

To the Texan Traveler

2010-02-11T08:05:00.000-08:00

For those who call Lone Star State home and are willing to make the trek to SF, here are some words of wisdom:

Close your eyes when your plane comes in for landing. Seriously, you'll think you are landing right in the ocean!
If you can't find pasta or chips in the shape of California, it's not a mistake. Let's face it; not everyone loves their state THAT much.
Don't send back Zinfandel wine that comes out red. It's suppose to be that way; after all, Zinfandel grapes are red not pink!
Yes, people actually ride buses, cable cars, and trains here; and yes, people actually walk up those hills!
Get used to the navigation terms "Hill Side" and "Bay Side"; they are more helpful than you will ever know.
Good luck finding Taco Cabana out here; it's In-N-Out Burger all the way!
But if you do need a Mexican fix, head to the Mission – the district most influential in introducing Mexican food to Americans. And while many a Californian may claim Mission Tortilla's origins there, you may be surprised by this:

When It Rains, It Pours?

2010-02-02T08:55:00.000-08:00

It's funny the small differences you notice when you move half-way across the country. Like how Lubbock has a severe lack of vegetation, Dallas drivers really are as bad as I thought, and Texas highways beat the pants off of any other highway system I've encountered so far. But the most apparent difference came on my official welcome back to not-so-sunny California. It rained for a week and a half straight.

I should have been suspicious following the first day of rain. Between TV shows, during the nightly forecast, and topping the news line-up, meteorologists warned Bay Area residents of severe storms. Having survived the first day of this so-called "severe" weather (which fell on the other end of the "severe" spectrum in my book), I wondered what exactly I was missing! There was no deafening thunder, no Armageddon-like lightning shows, and you could barely hear the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting our skylight.

By the 4th day of non-stop rain (when I say non-stop I mean that literally) and with the rain hitting deceivingly soft, I found myself rushing to the window hourly and peering into a sheet of falling disappointment. With the constant fall eroding the hills and my patience, it occurred to me that perhaps California's definition of severe weather might be a bit different. So after 6 days of rain, I officially conceded.

Severe doesn't have to come in with a bang or sound like the the Good Lord himself coming down from the sky; it doesn't have to leave highway underpasses flooded or sweep away unsuspecting motorists. But by sheer and undying persistence, it can cause havoc to traffic, make hillsides landslide, and challenge the patience of its transplants who move here for one reason...the weather!

Texas, My Texas

2010-01-29T01:44:00.000-08:00

Leaving Texas is always a little bittersweet, and my grand farewells always seems to conjure up random facts from childhood. After all:

Texas is the only state that was its own country (and is allowed to raise its flag inline height-wise with the stars and stripes as a result).
Texas IS the biggest state in the Union, isn't it? Alaska doesn't really count.
Texas must be a great place if its founders (Davy Crockett, Sam Houston) were actually defects from the now home of the other UT (Tennessee, that is).
And who couldn't love a state whose name appropriately means "friends"?

It also stirs up feelings of confusion as I once again claim my place as a Texan out of Texas:

No, not everyone in Texas has a twang.
No, I was not a GW supporter (though he was a great Governor!).
No, we do not ride horses to work.
No, I do not know Bobby or J.R.
No, not everyone carries a gun with them.
Yes, Texas is the best place on earth. Just ask any Texan and they'll tell you.

And without saying, leaving family and friends is always the hardest part. But with bags packed and good-byes said I've moved on to "greener pastures"...literally. We'll see what California has in store...

Home Cookin'

2010-01-26T01:07:00.000-08:00

Who says Texans only eat beef. Chicken, veggies, cheese, fish. You name it, we eat it all. But one thing is for certain...if you want to eat like a Texan, you gotta cook like a Texan.

Though any type of food is fair game, there are certain standards by which every Texan must abide:

Raw isn't for fish...it's for your steak, bloody and rare.
Spicy isn't for curry...it's for the "Kick Your Ass" Cholula, tangy BBQ, and ground chilis.
Beans aren't green...they're brown, come in a can, and packaged for throwing straight on the grill.
Chili doesn't mean cold...it's the common cuisine for cookoffs, and the hotter the better.
Deer, dove, and duck aren't delicacies...they're what a friend shot last weekend and suitable for cooking over coals.

There's no room for steaming, poaching, and rendering in true Texas cuisine. Any method involving involving wood, coals, fire, or the associated by-products is standard. So move over ovens and ranges...smokers and coffin-size pits are the chosen vehicles for cooking cuisine in the Lone Star State. For Texans, it isn't what you cook that distinguishes you...it's how you cook it.

Lubbock, But Don't Leave It

2010-01-23T01:01:00.000-08:00

In response to one of my blog followers (I know who you are=), Lubbock, Texas truly deserves a closer look. Not a city you'd choose as a destination necessarily (unless you are a university student or cotton farmer), this mid-size West Texas city has much to tout.

Known as the hub city (just look at a map and you'll see what I mean), Lubbock is circumferenced by farm towns and lies 6 hours from Dallas, Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Oklahoma City, El Paso, and Austin. Bigger population-wise than Amarillo, Lubbock is the destination for thousands of smaller town residents in the vicinity. In fact, South Plains Mall sees hundreds of thousands of visitors every year...more than half of which are not from Lubbock.

But for those not depending on Lubbock for its close-by "big city" amenities, Lubbock is still worth the trek. Home to the Texas Tech University campus, the intellectual community (and college party mentality) is well honed. For those wanting a bit more sophistication than the local bar, we have Lubbock to thank for Texas' budding wine industry. Being ideal grape growing conditions that are duplicated in few other Texas cities, Lubbock's wineries are some of the best in Texas and provide the fruits of their labor to other wineries throughout the Lone Star State.

Recognize the names Buddy Holly, Mac Davis, or Dixie Chick Natalie Maines? All are from Lubbock. Harry Connick, Jr. even shows up from time to time: his wife is a Lubbockite, and his mother-in-law is famed sculptor Glenna Goodacre.

A word of warning, though...if you're running from the law do not go to Lubbock. Lubbock is the biggest small town you'll ever visit. Boasting over 200,000 residents, those who call Lubbock home know a little bit about almost everyone who lives there. Case in point: my husband just bought a duplex in southwest Lubbock. One of his tenants was his aunt's first-grade teacher and also worked with his stepfather for a time. The other tenant knows his best friend's dad, both being in the dermatological industry.

Big in size with a small-town attitude, Lubbock is an anomaly in its own right making both country bumpkins and city slickers feel right at home. And for those unable or unwilling to make the a trip toward the Texas panhandle, here's just a taste of what you'll be missing: http://lizzymcglynn.com/video/video.html

***Special thanks to Lizzy McGlynn for the use of her video!

A Fort Worthy Destination

2010-01-20T06:57:00.000-08:00

As much as Dallasites hate to admit it, their neighbor to the west has much to tout. The boot scootin' "Cowtown" of Fort Worth is much more than just cows and, well, town. It's a cultural center, artistic arena, and convenient for sports aficionados.

Anyone with an eye for the aesthetic knows that Fort Worth rules. With the Kimball Art Museum leading the pack, Fort Worth's art scene boasts extensive collections of American, Old West, European, and modern art. El Greco, Cezanne, Rembrandt, along with Georgia O'Keeffe, Frederic Remington, and Charles M. Russell, Fort Worth's permanent collection is one to be envied. And with reputation preceding itself, the stalwarts often make room for visitors like Andy Warhol or Paul Gauguin.

It's not only for art that Fort Worth does it big. Just take a walk into Billy Bob's and you'll see what I mean. Holding the title for world's biggest honky tonk, this bar and concert venue can accommodate more than 6,000 people and has hosted big-name performers like Willie Nelson, Pat Green, and Randy Travis. Complete with indoor bull ring where pro and semi-pro riders vie in competition, "big" is Fort Worth's biggest understatement when it comes to Billy Bob's.

For those who shy away from art and music, the proximity of athletic entertainment makes Fort Worth all the more appealing. Texas Motor Speedway lies on the north side of town hosting NASCAR, IndyCar series, and dirt track events. Just minutes from Forth Worth, the Ball Park in Arlington is home to baseball's Texas Rangers. And if NASCAR and baseball are not enough reason to make the trek west of Dallas, wildcatter Jerry Jones recently unveiled the Dallas Cowboys' new home less than 2 miles away from the ballpark. Endearingly called Jerry World, the state-of-the-art facility houses not only one of the biggest names in football, but the biggest LED display in the world. Yep, the west side of town definitely holds its own to its more cosmopolitan eastern counterpart.

But despite Fort Worth's appeal to music junkies, art enthusiasts, and sports fans, it still maintains a rich cowtown reputation. Mom and pop shops are plentiful, small-town hospitality abounds, and cattle drives through downtown twice daily hint at the heart and soul that earned it the name Cowtown.

Though I by no means submit to the mantra "Life's Too Short To Live in Dallas" (and yes, my former Fort Worthian roommate proudly wore this on his back from time to time), Fort Worth is a worthwhile destination for visitors and a must for metroplex locals.

Train Transit in Texas?

2009-12-31T11:53:00.000-08:00

Who says you need a car to get around Dallas. This truck-driving, SUV-obsessed metroplex has finally gone metropolitan. From Plano to Pearl Street and Fort Worth to Victory Park, DFW residents can now commute cross-town by train.

In 2002, the beginnings of the DART Rail System made their debut traversing from northeast Dallas to downtown. And with the new TRE line (opened last year) and the forthcoming Green Line from Carrollton, you can get anywhere from downtown to the airports to Cowboys games, all for less than $4 a ride.

Taking the plunge myself, I opted for TRE transit on a recent jaunt to visit my sister in Fort Worth. Now I don't claim to be a public transit expert by any means but I am fit to compare, having lived in and visited countless cities all with very different interpretations of what constitutes "public transit."

Logistically, DFW's train system can be a bit confusing, especially for a city not honed in the art of train travel. There are different fares for local and regional travel, and travel direction is not clearly marked. Luckily (in true Texas style) there are plenty of locals and seasoned train travelers who are more than happy to help you along. From buying tickets, to reading maps, to just passing time on the train, DFW commuters are the friendliest and chattiest I've met. The personal touch doesn't stop with the riders either. Train attendants announce each stop, remind you to collect your belongings, and periodically patrol the cars to answer questions and monitor clientele.

Scheduling can be a bit of a setback for the late-comer; at times the next train won't arrive for another 1.5 hours! But for those proficient in punctuality, travel time is fast...so fast that “it’s not even enough time to get into a good conversation on the phone” according to one rider. And the plush seats and free wi-fi make it all the more convenient and comfortable.

Despite some minor drawbacks, this first-time rider gives props to DFW for tackling public transit. While Dallas' larger-city counterparts notorious for sardine-like population densities (like D.C. and Chicago) have maintained fairly successful public transit programs, Dallas has gone above and beyond offering similar transit in a low-density metroplex whose borders span 9,286 square miles. And more so, it's done this in a town whose citizens truly take pride in their ride.

D-town Dustings

2009-12-29T05:40:00.000-08:00

For the first time since before I can remember, Dallas has celebrated the holiday season in true fashion...with a glistening, gleaming White Christmas. Yep, you heard it folks...3-plus non-consecutive days of snow, including a rare Christmas Day appearance. And after 14 months of perpetual summer in Nigeria and Singapore, the white-dusted December was a real treat.

Snow in Dallas is not a novelty by any means, but it is a rarity. Several years may pass without the precipitous winter wonder making an appearance. As such, it's never expected but overwhelmingly appreciated. Children will yell out in class when snow starts to fall; co-workers will stop work, debating the likelihood of accumulation; and people actually pause to glimpse the wet flakes before they kiss the warm Texas ground.

Dallasites know to watch keenly for its silent procession. It marches softly in, the rain stepping softer on your roof. It approaches with the silent sloth of a bell-less steer and the rain-turned-snow falls long and slow like the twang of a Texas drawl. It retreats just as clandestinely, turning back to rain, and washes away the powdery evidence that it had once touched surface.

Though not a necessity for the holiday season, Christmas snow in Dallas is always welcomed, genuinely appreciated, and never taken for granted.

Dressing for Dallas

2009-12-23T13:16:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed how pretty people in Dallas look? Like the city in which they reside, Dallasites portray an air of groomed casualness that is all there own. It's not fancy, but manicured. It's not formal, but deliberate casual. You see, Dallas attire (and attitude for that matter) makes casual look formal and formal look casual. And the Christmas season makes this all too apparent.

Everyone who's anyone in Dallas has professional pictures taken for events and milestones: engagements, first babies, and yes, Christmas cards. But a Walmart sitdown session for 12.99 just will not do. No, no. Blurred backgrounds, creative clothing color combos, and looks of candid blissful perfection are musts. It's the glamor shot look without the off the shoulder dresses, caked on make up, and, well....glamor.

Perhaps the Reata (a true Texas restaurant inspired by southern flavors) epitomizes this unique DFW style to a tee. My sister calls it "cowboy fancy." While atmosphere and cuisine indicate upscale dining, there is still room for the casual cowboy. Calf fries (a Texas delicacy made from the more sensitive calf parts) are deep fried chicken style. Gourmet elk sausage sits atop a down home favorite - cheese grits. And those are just the appetizers.

Dining attire also reflects the duality of farm yard formal that epitomizes Dallas. Waiters don Wranglers and formal black Western-wear shirts bedecked with silver accents. The clientele show up in anything from suits to boots (or both). Jean, t-shirts, blazers, ropers, and Stetsons...all wear is welcome.

So when dressing in Dallas, just remember: it's one of the few places you can wear jeans to a wedding (but you better have some boots to scoot).

Dallas Driving

2009-12-18T09:11:00.000-08:00

After 14 months of commuting by foot, train, or taxi, I finally returned to the wonderful and reckless world of Dallas driving. Yep, you heard me right…100% non-defensive death-wish driving. And the reality of the hopeless and hapless situation hit me full force last night.

My roommate from college lives close to the Dallas’ trendy Greenville Ave. Convenient to many a Dallasite, but not so much from where I grew up in Carrollton. When I asked my father how to get there, this was what he said: “take the George Bush Tollway to the Dallas North Tollway then 635 to 75 south.” Four highways? You gotta be kidding me!

But here’s the kicker…he said I might consider going straight to 635: “those tollway drivers go way too fast.” Now dads never stop being dads; but, come on. I grew up flying down 35 and zipping along 121 and 635. I knew Dallas highways and knew how to drive on them. But seeing as I am a pre-George Bush Tollway transplant out-of-state, I took my dad’s advice and went the sure way to avoid getting lost. And boy was I glad I did.

I was barely on the entrance ramp to 635 when a driver almost hit me from behind. Quickly getting away from the entrance and exit points to avoid a similar (and perhaps less lucky) situation, I clicked my signal and headed left. Not two minutes later I was slamming on my breaks (and my horn) for another driver who obviously didn’t check his blind spot. By this time, I had to make my grand exit-ramp entrance onto Central Expressway. Two cars in front of me, I see a car shoot across the solid white line right in front of the ramp divider, barely missing the safety barrels and causing everyone in front of me to stop short. If 635 is considered “safer,” I can’t imagine the tollway tribulations!

This morning, my prejudice against Dallas driving was reinforced. Shutting down the entrance from 635 to the tollway was a tanker that shook buildings as it collided, exploded, and not doubt killed its driver. And this isn’t the first time a wreck so dramatic has topped the news. On my last visit to the D-town a semi fell from an upper ramp to a lower ramp, crushing cars and stopping traffic for hours.

Now you may say this sort of stuff happens everywhere, and it does. But I’ve driven in lots of cities with lots of traffic (Chicago, Detroit, San Francisco); and nowhere else have I found a consistent disregard for and a general collusion against anything and everything that travels over 55 miles per hour. Maybe we should all take dad’s advice and go the sure way.

You Can Take the Girl BACK to Texas...

2009-12-17T06:33:00.000-08:00

So I've officially landed in the Lone Star State (and Brian is soon to follow). Though I haven't lived here since college, I've been a regular visitor for over 8 years coming home for the holidays and to visit family and friends. So imagine my surprise when, upon returning home, familiar morphed to foreign.

Houston is the first place we landed. Flying into Intercontinental on the north side of town required us to do two things: rent a car and drive clear across the city to our finally destination in Nassau Bay. Though not a ground breaking observation to say the least, I had never considered just how difficult it would be for someone (say from China where the general public has been driving for only 8 years) to visit Houston. Few public transit options, the city has to be 4-times the size of Singapore or more, and the size of the highways are a bit intimidating even for a native like me! Let's just say I have a new respect and appreciation for any foreign resident who travels here for business or pleasure.

Though the highways are mammoth to say the least, the "everything is bigger in Texas" mantra stops there. Upon entering the city, there was a complete absence of big-city shock value (despite Houston's standing as America's 4th largest city). No doubt a result of Houston's expanse, everything seemed too short for a city so populated. For someone just returning from the concrete jungle where everyone lived and worked in 30+ story buildings, I found myself wondered where all the people went. Even Lagos' downtown seemed a bit more "city-esque" than this southern Texas oil town.

Along with the big, small things that I hadn't noticed before jumped out...like how much I missed hearing tejano and country music on the radio (There's some sort of familiarity that comes with flipping through stations and getting "whiffs" of Spanish and twang). Or restaurants with names like "House of Pies" or "Sushi King" (Do you really want to eat sushi from a place that sounds like a burger joint?). Or how about a Bud Light truck being pulled over by a cop in a pick up (Sounds like inspiration for a county song).

But one thing that was and still is familiar is Houston's southern charm. Though not as pronounced as the sugar-coating in say Savannah or other self-proclaimed "true" southern towns, people and politeness go hand-in-hand here. A former roommate (and fellow Texan) noted upon her inaugural move from Texas to Chicago that men don't offer seats to the ladies on the "L." I guess politeness is bit like tejano music...you don't miss it 'til it's gone.

Home Sweet Home

2009-12-12T23:35:00.000-08:00

Just because I'm back in the U.S. (yes, you heard me right; we have officially moved back) does not mean America the Beautiful is off the hook. For the past year, I've been writing about my impressions of other countries, other people, and other cultures. I've been genuinely interested, often curious, and at times critical of what I've seen, heard, experienced, and felt. But it would seem a bit unfair for me to write about (and judge to some extent) the going-ons of other cultures and not scrutinize my home culture with the same degree of interest, curiosity, and criticism.

So please continue to read...for as curious as you may have found Nigeria and Singapore, I can almost guarantee the U.S. provides just as much entertainment (and maybe more so). For the month of December, I'm hanging at home in the Lone Star State; then it's back to organic eating and the Wine Country of San Francisco's Bay Area. So stay tuned....

Ignoring Culture

2009-12-06T05:59:00.000-08:00

It's easy when living abroad to focus on differences. I myself am no exception as you've probably read in many of my blogs. Differences are interesting. Differences make for good conversation. Differences are acceptable explanations for things that may go wrong. But what I've come to realize is that our friendships and courtships do not depend on accepting differences, ignoring differences, discerning differences, or being "culturally sensitive." They depend on embracing similarities.

It is not necessarily similar upbringings, but it can be. It is not necessarily similar religious or ethical beliefs, but it can be. It is not necessarily similar cultural backgrounds, but it can be. My point is that often "culture" gets in the way of knowing the person as they are away from the cultural backdrop that might or might not influence their lives.

I think of my friend Esther as I write this. Chinese-born but living and studying in Singapore while I was there, she quickly became a very good friend. Sure, there were times when I did something that I knew was culturally awkward in her eyes. But she knew my character and I knew hers. We both valued education, were hard workers, valued friendship and loyalty, respected family responsibilities, and depended on each other more than I think either of us knew. You see it wasn't despite our cultures that we became friends; culture never was a factor to begin with.

I realize that it's trendy to be culturally sensitive, and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. But at some point we should tread softly on the fine line between "culturally sensitive" and "culturally obsessive." When we meet someone of the same culture, we automatically assume a certain status quo. If someone is late, rude, or cheap, it's just who they are. But what if they're Latino, American, or Jewish? Well then, it must be "cultural." You see, culture is all well and good until you start focusing on it, assuming the presence of it, and choosing relationships based on assumptions that go with it.

When culture is the same, status quo is very often ignored. So maybe that's how we should approach all our relationships...even the intercultural ones.

Einsteinian Esperanto

2009-12-02T06:37:00.000-08:00

In light of some of the recent comments regarding Esperanto, I feel I should digress a bit and address the issue. While comments have been made regarding Esperanto as the future for a worldwide lingua franca, I for one submit to a more Einsteinian approach to language use and evolution: language cannot be created but can be destroyed, and certainly can change to other forms.

Esperanto is a feat in its own right. With vision for a language which could "foster harmony between people from different countries," L.L. Zamenhof completed Esperanto in the 1880s. Since then it has acquired between 100,000 and 2 million speakers, has seen the publication and translation of literary works, and has a passionate following that remains strong today. (Thank you, wikipedia.=)

That being said, many of my blog readers have hit some very important points. As a student of culture, I have been consistently taught that language and culture are inextricably linked. While Esperanto presents a good option for communicating in the multinationally influenced world we now live in, it lacks the naturally evolving culture that goes alongside. From this perspective, language nor culture can be created.

Also, with Esperanto's use of a modified Latin alphabet and the associated phonetic counterparts, there seems a large portion of the world left out of the mix...namely those using various Asian spoken and written forms. One may say that an alphabet of some form had to be chosen; but why the Latin alphabet and the primarily Western-based grammar? After all, by wikipedia's average estimation, almost twice as many people worldwide speak Chinese than English (the most common Latin alphabet language) followed by Hindu/Urdu (whose alphabet is based on Sanskrit). Esperanto clearly has certain socio-political influences, which could not only favor certain languages and cultures over others, but potentially hinder or destroy those from non-Western nations and cultures.

Finally language is not something you can force upon someone. Even during colonization, when English or French or Spanish was brought to other areas of the world, the lingua franca did not evolve in its original form. Pidgins, creoles, and full-fledged new languages were born and evolved into their present-day counterparts. And this didn't happen just in one place, it happened almost everywhere, in places separated by oceans and terrain. As a property of language itself, language (and culture) cannot be created...it can only evolve to different forms.

As an aside, I welcome any and all comments to my blog. But please, if you have political affiliations related to particular topics, I do ask you identify yourself properly. As much for the informational purposes of my readers as for the integrity of the blog I write.

By the People, For the People

2009-11-28T11:53:00.000-08:00

As our time living abroad comes to a close, it seems appropriate to reflect on the differences between Lagos and Singapore. But what most travelers do not realize is just how much Nigeria and Singapore have in common. The countries' histories and cultural make-ups seem all too parallel. And if you visit both countries today, you may wonder how one could have done so much and the other done so little.

Nigeria and Singapore were both occupied not only by the British, but the Portuguese. Lagos is actually Portuguese for "lagoons" and Portuguese influence in cuisine and architecture is still found in Singapore’s homeland of ‘ole, Malaysia. While the past Portuguese influence in both countries is present but scant, the British influence permeates, most obviously in language. English is the lingua franca, with most using the local creole (Singlish and Nigerian pidgin) to communicate.

Nigeria and Singapore both claim a mixed cultural backdrop: Nigeria’s dominant tribes being Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba; Singapore’s ethnic mixes consisting of Malay, Chinese, Indian, and Eurasian. Both are key port cities, boasting prime locations for stop-offs and drop-offs. And their equatorial climates encourage rampant growth of just about anything that is planted.

But most surprising is both Nigeria and Singapore parted from the British empire the same year (1963). In the almost 50 years since independence, Singapore has grown to cosmopolitan acclaim, provides high standards of living for a large percentage of its population, and boasts some of the toughest schools and brightest professionals worldwide. Nigeria, on the other hand, still struggles to provide for even its richest inhabitants and has been riddled with corruption, civil war, and poverty.

So why has Singapore thrived and Nigeria dived? After all, Nigeria has oil (and lots of it) and Singapore boasts no resources of its own. Many may claim greed the culprit…after all, how often in history have we seen countries swimming in the coveted resources of the day only to fall victim to thievery and social decay? Others may think it’s cultural work ethic or unresolved tribal conflicts.

For me, I believe it goes beyond this, yet all being symptoms of the bigger culprit at hand. While Singapore evolved, Nigeria was created. As a well-respected friend and brilliant theorist wrote, “our superconductor world is at odds with centuries of native tribal and religious conflict. Consequently, when the pressure is on to ‘make it happen’– get that infrastructure up and running, stop the tribal infighting, hold free elections, and join our United Nations – the emerging nations are like high school football teams playing against the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl. It is not that nations can’t make it happen; it is that their nation-building process has yet to evolve and may not evolve for 100 years.”

You see, Singapore was given the chance to evolve as it should, to face troubles in its own time and way, to create a country when the time was right. From the beginning, Nigeria’s nation-building process was forced. Three major tribal groups were shoved into one country for no other reason than convenience. Its borders were drawn by Europeans living far away from the reality at hand. And, as with many African nations, particular tribal groups were given favor by the colonialists and granted the power to rule over all tribes. For too long, Nigeria was denied the right to develop on its own time line, in its own way.

While Singapore had a hand in its own creation, Nigerians still struggle in a country that was created neither by the people nor for the people.

*The picutre of Lagos is courtesy of outhere.de

Engrish.com

2009-11-26T08:56:00.000-08:00

In light of my recent posts and the comments that followed, I'd like to feature a Web site that could be humorous or insightful, depending on how you look at it:

www.engrish.com

Lost in Translation

2009-11-23T01:31:00.000-08:00

My trouble started at the Southeast Asian Civilizations Museum. As part of their ChinaFest event, they offered free activities for adults and kids alike: Chinese Quiz Show, Chinese Opera performance, and ancient Chinese bowling. But what I anticipated most was the calligraphy station. Finally, I would find out my Chinese name! It sounds a bit silly, I know. But I feel a certain disconnect with a language when there is no spoken or written counterpart for my own name.

At the station, there was a binder for Western name translations. Eagerly I flipped through, found Sarah (with an "h"), and showed it to the calligrapher. So proud I was of my Chinese name – “sha la” (莎拉) – that I showed off my new-found nomenclature to a Chinese–Singaporean friend. “You know that means ‘salad,’” he said.

One of my annoyances as a student of Chinese is the seeming bastardization of the language when it comes to many foreign translations. Not that I was expecting my name to mean "beautiful woman" or " princess." But at least something like "wife of Abraham" or "mother of nations." For example, Hong Kong actually means “fragrant harbor;” Beijing means "north capitol"; Nanyang (Singapore's name of ole) means "south sea"; and my favorite, xiang shui – perfume (literally meaning fragrant water).

But as in the case of my name, often it is sounds not meanings that are mimicked. Take a look at Singapore's MRT map and you'll see how this beautiful language can be twisted around. While Lakeside station (hu – lake, pan – bank) and Little India (xiao – little, yin du – India) actually mean what they say, Sembawang (san ba wang) and Dhoby Ghaut (dou mei ge) only sound like their English counterparts with little regard for meaning. It’s a bit like spelling out a concept in sign language versus actually using an already available all-encompassing sign.

And so on the basis of sound similarity (and to assist foreigners with recognizing their own native-words-turned-Chinese), my name becomes “salad.” The irony? Sha la really doesn’t sound that much like Sarah, now does it.

Is Singlish a Sin?

2009-11-17T01:43:00.000-08:00

As an English speaking visitor to Singapore, don’t expect to understand everything that is said. Though most Singaporeans do speak English, the Chinese-esque grammar combined with tones and pronunciation unfamiliar to the Western ear can make communicating a bit tricky. But is Singapore English, known as Singlish, a sin? According to the Singapore government it is.

For 6 years, Singapore has tried to play language police through its Speak Good English movement. Web pages, blogs, and teaching and vocational materials promote “standard” English as the preferred form. But as a student of language and culture, this particular topic strikes too close to home. The official stance of the movement is “to encourage Singaporeans to speak grammatically correct English that is universally understood.” Being universally understood is important; after all, what is the point of communicating in the same language if you can’t actually communicate. But "grammatically correct"? I'm not buying it.

In my experience trying to understand and be understood in Singapore, it was never the grammar that stood in the way. I quickly caught on to the shortened affirmatives (like “can” instead of “yes, you can”), and since Singlish mirrors the simpler Chinese grammar it’s actually easier to understand than the convoluted and repetitive “standard” English grammar. More so, different accents, pronunciations, and idioms were the cause of communication troubles. So why the big movement for speaking grammatically correct?

Singlish has a stigma: the uneducated, the working class, the foreigners who come to work there for a pittance all speak perfect Singlish. As I see it, wiping out Singlish is not a matter of being universally understood; it is a political and socio-economic statement put forth by the government. It elevates the educated to “preferred” and reduces the uneducated to unacceptable. It brands the upper echelon as “standard” and the working class as deviant. It blatantly states who and what practices the government finds acceptable and unacceptable.

Much like the English-Only movement in the United States, which often ostracises or in extreme cases punishes people speaking Spanish in vocational or educational settings, in Singapore Singlish has been dubbed a sin by the powers that be.

China Talk in China Town

2009-11-14T01:32:00.000-08:00

On my recent visit to the Chinatown Heritage Centre, a particular display caught my eye. It described Chinatown as the opium den center of the city where high-end clientelle as well as "coolies" frequented for their daily fix. "Coolies"??? This was a term I hadn't heard before.

For those just as clueless as me, "coolie" is actually in the American-English dictionary: "an unskilled laborer or porter usually in or from the Far East hired for low or subsistence wages." For those more vocabularily inclined, what you may not know is its origin – a loan word from the Chinese kǔlì (苦力), which literally means "bitter; hardship" and "strength." With 75% of Singapore's residents hailing from Asia's most populace country, it's no surprise that Chinese (in its various forms and dialects) dominates the linguistic cultural backdrop.

Though English is for many the lingua franca of Singapore, various dialects of Chinese (mostly Hakka, Hokkien, and Mandarin) are spoken at home and to friends of the same linguistic network. Code-switching (using both English and Chinese) is frequent and no-switching (no English, Chinese-only) is not uncommon. From business cards, to retail signs, to advertisements, Chinese holds its own in this English speaking "international" city.

But it isn't just the "China Talk" here that hints at Singapore's dominant cultural population; just listen to the English (endearingly called Singlish) spoken by Chinese, Indians, and Malay alike. Singlish cadence is staccato and short, with syllables deliberately separated and sounding a bit abrupt to the American ear. Not only is the cadence short, but the actually sentence constructions are, too, mirroring the concise uncomplicated Chinese phraseology.

Speaking in fragments or removing subjects or even verbs is also commonplace in Singlish exchanges. When you answer in the affirmative, a simple verb often suffices ("can," "have," "take" instead of "yes, you can" etc.). This is taken directly from Chinese grammatical structure, which doesn't really have a word for "yes." Also, Singlish sentences often conclude with a lingering "laaaah" or "maaaaah." Similarly, "ma" is the Chinese interrogative indicator placed at the end of questions; while, "le" is placed at the end of many statements as an intensifier or to indicate a completed action.

Both in phonology and cadence as well as construction, the Singaporean English is no doubt influenced by its Chinese counterparts.

***As an aside, the photo above was featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. What Mr. Bourdain may not know is that this sign is a perfect example of the linguistic fusion apparent all over Singapore. Not only does its name appear in Chinese and English, but also pinyin. "Tian tian" is the roman alphabet pronunciation of the two symbols which appear above it. Tian tian (天天) actually means "every day" in Chinese.

A China Town, No Doubt

2009-11-11T01:25:00.000-08:00

Though Singapore claims a healthy mix of cultures and backgrounds (Chinese, Malay, Tamil, Eurasian), the Chinese heritage is by far the most pronounced and has affected Singaporean culture in both big and subtle ways. From food, to tradition, to speech, Singapore is a China Town, no doubt.

To give a bit a of background, the major influx of Chinese immigrants to Malaysia occurred during the 15th and 16th centuries. Formerly being part of Malaysia, Singapore also welcomed these Chinese traders and travelers well before its independence in 1965. In fact, many a Singaporean claim not a Malay but Peranakan heritage – a mix of Malay and Chinese ethnicity and tradition. This insurgence of Chinese culture that started centuries ago today remains strong in Singaporean daily living.

Chop sticks and angular soup spoons are staples in Hawker Centers and Food Courts (though I've been told to only use chopsticks when given a bowl; forks are used for plates). Hawker Centers' menu displays are written in Chinese and pinyin (the roman alphabet version of Chinese pronunciations) and with less frequency in English. And of course the cuisine itself, though some is uniquely Singaporean, includes the basic rice or noodle and soup mixtures we've come to know as "typical" Chinese.

The Chinese language dominates conversation as well. As much (or even more so) than English, I hear gossiping, business, and pleasantries exchanged in different Chinese dialects. On more than one occasion, I've needed to "find" an English speaker to help out with purchases and requests. And perhaps most revealing are the signs in Little India...there are more written in Chinese than in Tamil! Even Little India's grocery store has an automated machine saying "ni hao" ("hello" in Chinese) as you enter.

Though Chinese is by no means a necessity here and Western foods abound, visitors will leave knowing Singapore is a China Town, no doubt.

Baba-Nyonya Pride

2009-11-08T01:52:00.000-08:00

I'm not so sure our Indian friend from my previous blog would vie much better in Malaysia. While Chinese–Singaporeans prefer to deal with their own in business relationships, Chinese–Malaysian (known endearingly as Baba–Nyonya) are among the most successful businessmen and Malaysia's richest residents. As evidenced by Melaka's Baba–Nyonya house-turned-museum, its sheer size and international flare on display leaves little doubt of Baba–Nyonyas' influence, affluence, and stories of success.

Malaysia's population has been influenced by and integrated with other cultures for centuries. From the Jawi (Tamil–Muslim Malay) to the Chitty (Tamil–Hinu Malay), mixed heritage is a reality for many living in Malaysia. But it is quite obvious which Peranakan group lays claim as the "true" people (or at least the most prominent) of Malaysia, even more so than native Malays – the Baba–Nyonya. Literally translated as "Grandfather–Grandmother," Baba–Nyonya tradition dominates much of Malaysian and Singaporean culture. Identifiable by their batik sarong kebaya (the nyonya's attire of choice) and famous for their multi-cultural cuisine (fusioned flavors which include coconut milk, pandan leaf, and lemon grass to name a few), Baba–Nyonya heritage is easily identifiable and loudly pronounced.

And prideful they are! Even here in Singapore, the local television network broadcasts a weekly comedy that spotlights, plays with, and exaggerates the uniqueness and stereotypes that come with Baba–Nyonya pride. Sayang Sayang (meaning "dear" or "love" in Malay) follows one Peranakan family as they compete for the family business, challenge each others' "Nyonya" skills in a kueh chang-making contest, don traditional Baba–Nyonya batik, and even publish a Peranakan dictionary (Chinese Peranakan of course).

Though Peranakan refers to people of any mixed ethnic origin, Peranakan pride means Baba–Nyonya on the Indochinese Penninsula.

***The first picture above is courtesy of Singapore's Peranakan Museum. The second picture displays kueh chang, Nyonya rice dumplings.

Hierarchy of Business

2009-11-05T01:00:00.000-08:00

As an "outsider" living abroad, it's difficult to know and often even harder to understand the rules of engagement for your host country. It might be the business card ritual that catches you off guard (a necessity at meetings, with the 2-hand exchange being as important to the meeting as the business at hand). Or it could be rules for treating someone to a meal (still haven't figured that one out). But what I didn't expect were the rules of hierarchy...rules that at home aren't as pronounced as here in Asia.

This unofficial (or maybe it's official) caste system of the high-wage, low-wage variety first came to my attention at my place of residence. One of the restaurant staff, who was working as an intern, had to return to the Philippines. He couldn't find a job; they were only hiring Singaporeans because of the economic downturn he told me. Made sense, but this guy was a hard worker and seemed more capable than some of the full-time Singaporean staff! It seems there is a certain respect and advantages that simply come with a Singaporean passport.

And for the non-Singaporeans who do get hired, often the less-than-desirable jobs with less-than-desirable pay are what awaits them. My husband recalls looking out his window from the 26-floor and seeing at eye-level Indian construction workers building a nearby skyscraper. When he commented that he wouldn't want that job, a co-worked replied that you wouldn't find a Singaporean doing that work. Live-in help from the Philippines, Malaysia, or Indonesia don't fare much better. Though perks are included (like room, board, and trips home), the standard wage is about USD 300 per month.

Even among the Singaporean "elite" a business hierarchy exists. Our residents cafe not only serves as a breakfast nook but with the same frequency as a venue for businessmen vying for contracts. As such, I often overhear tid-bits of the dealings. Recently, I witnessed an Indian man being let down easy by an Australian business contact. His Chinese clients, the Australian said, "they like to do business with Chinese...you might have a better chance in Malaysia." The conversation ended with the Australian suggesting Indian contacts might also be a better option for his non-Chinese companion.

In the Singapore workforce, being Chinese–Singaporean is more than advantageous...it's predestinous!

A Buddhist Christmas?

2009-11-02T01:42:00.000-08:00

And I thought Americans started Christmas early...

For the past 3 weeks, more and more Christmas decorations have appeared on our neighborhood's main thoroughfare (which also happens to be
Singapore's shopping district). Orchard Road runs 1.5 miles long before turning into Tanglin Road for another half mile...and Christmas decorations span the entire length! Complete with Santa Village, ornaments, lights, a 5-story Christmas tree, and snowmen (I guess there is such thing as snow in Singapore), this is by far the largest and most glamorous effort I've ever seen to 'Tis the Season!

But this over-indulgence in Christmas flare strikes me as a bit odd. Aside from the obvious early arrival of holiday cheer, last time I checked Singapore's population was half Buddhist. With Christianity accounting for only 15%, why would Singapore go to such lengths to celebrate (or at least decorate for) this Christian holiday? The answer: well, it's plastered alongside, above, and around the decorations on Orchard Road...money.

Enter the holiday season and enter the consumerism frenzy. Maybe not for its own citizens, but Singapore is an international city with a reputation for good shopping. And there's no better time than Christmastime to make up for losses during an economically-challenged year. This money-making mindset which dominates Singapore is not only evident by what you see on Orchard Road, but also by what you don't see elsewhere. According to some locals, Singapore invests in things that make money often to the detriment of non-money making ventures. The art scene is a perfect example.

Trying to find Singaporean art (or any decent collection for that matter) is like looking for a Christmas tree in Mecca. The Singapore Art Museum has an obvious paucity of local artists, and its permanent collection leaves much to be desired. In fact, if you want to see good art go to the hotels (a huge money maker in this tourist town). The Conrad, Regent, and Ritz–Carlton take pride in their art collections no doubt in response to their patrons tastes. Ranging from SE Asian masters to Chihuly, Frank Stella, and even Andy Warhol, these hotels put Singapore's national art efforts to shame with the Ritz–Carlton alone housing 4,200 pieces.

In Singapore, the old saying certainly rings true: money makes the world go round. And while art museums may yield little profit, hotels and "Christ"-mas mean money!

Sex, Sexuality, and Censorship

2009-10-30T01:30:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I was at home watching a rerun of Friends. (Yes, we do get tons of American shows here.) It was the New Years Eve episode where the "friends" sulked in Monica's apartment watching the rest of their party welcome in the New Year. Chandler tries to cheer everyone up, noting "there are 3 guys and 3 girls here" – everyone would get a New Years kiss! For those who know the episode, it ends with Chandler throwing a tantrum because no one will kiss him, so Joey lays a big one right smack on his lips!

Well, Singapore's version was a bit different. Right when Joey started to lean in, a white flash came across the screen and the next frame was Chandler looking bewildered (apparently for no reason). Hmmm...is Singapore really that "homophobic," censoring out even the most light-hearted of homosexual references?

Perhaps not. Featured on HBO recently was Philadelphia, the story of a gay lawyer who is fired when he contracts AIDS. I watched the movie in anticipation of its famous scene: protagonist Tom Hanks dancing with boyfriend Antonio Banderas at a costume party, then the kiss on the dance floor. (I've always been a bit jealous of Tom Hanks in this role.) Smiling, watching, waiting, then cut! No kiss for Tom Hanks in Singapore's version.

It appears that "sexually illicit" material going through the filter of MediaCorp, Singapore's media monopoly, can be talked about and referred to but not actually seen. And it's not just homosexual actions that get the boot; sex in general is closely guarded. In the movie Parenthood, references to pornography, vibrators, and oral sex are kosher. But when it comes to the "big" scene in Sex and the City (The Movie), MediaCorp leaves you hanging. Even Singapore's adult entertainment stores don't sell porn (in magazine or video format).

Now I'm not an advocate of the porn industry; nor do I condone explicit material on television where those not mature enough to handle it have easy access. My shtick is this: Chandler kissing Joey is not in the same league as seeing someones ho hum up close and personal. And if you are going to censor the sexually explicit in Singapore, why not start at Orchard Towers (endearingly called the Four Floors of Whores).

And so I pose the question: Why censor? After all you can get the real version of what you don't see on TV (both hetero- and homosexual) just down the street from my house.

The Population Push

2009-10-27T01:52:00.000-07:00

Ah, the joys of city living. As many of my friends will attest, I am pro-public transit all the way. In fact, public transit systems top my "benefits list" of big-city life. During the 6 years I called Chicago home, I cabbed it to work only twice and found the "L" to be a convenience rather than annoyance – the obvious exception being bitter winter days waiting 20-plus minutes on outdoor elevated train platforms. So why has my pro-public protocol taken a turn for the worse? Population, Planning, Pace, and Perspiration is why.

Singapore is the 3rd most dense country in the world and almost 4 times as dense as the Windy City. The population "problem" (if you can call it that) makes even the most docile commuter (like me) want to push people out of the way! But let's be honest here. I've done the daily commute on New York's Manhattan Island – an area much denser than Singapore – and never did I feel the population push as much as I have here. But unlike Manhattan's work-day population swell, as professions swarm in from elsewhere, workers in Singapore often come here...and stay. Live-in help (which undoubtedly is forgotten in the population density calculation) call places like Malaysia, Philippines, and India their true "home." So when we talk population, official calculations may lie askew.

But the population is as much an issue of distribution as actual numbers. City planning also contributes to commuting stress on the part of many an expat. While New York City boasts Central Park as its main reservoir of undevelopment, about 23% of Singapore's land mass is forest/nature preserves and 2/3 of the country's surface area is reserved for water catchment...places commuters wouldn't necessarily hang out. In addition, MRT stops are not commuter-only places of transit. They are housed inside large malls with restaurants, boutiques, grocery stores, and of course all the consumers that frequent them.

Pace and perspiration are one in the same. Except for the escalators which move at NASCAR speed, the pace here in Singapore is at a loitering level. For many a commuter heading to their professional places of work, showing up with arm-pit sweat marks from a quick commute is definitely faux pas. Even the workday, which starts late and ends late, is designed to avoid the hottest parts of the day (2 to 5 pm). For those used to the bustle of cooler climate commutes, you may find yourself packed-in and your promptness inpolite.

When it comes to the population push, commuters beware...Singapore will give you a walk for your money.

My Malaysia

2009-10-25T01:46:00.000-07:00

For those planning a trip to Singapore, might I suggest 2 no-misses while in the area. Easy to get to and quite a contrast to Singapore's cement jungle, Melaka and KL should top your list.

A 4-hour bus ride puts you right where history (or at least colonialist history) began in this area of the world. Melaka was Singapore before Singapore was Singapore as the major stop off point for those heading East to West. An active port in its heyday, Melaka was frequented and settled by Chinese merchants, then occupied by the Portuguese, Dutch, and English before gaining independence in 1957. Remnants of these multi-national influences are impeccably preserved in present-day Melaka. With its outstanding shopping, quaint small-town feel, and rich but modest historical sites, Melaka deserves a day or 2 even for self-proclaimed city slickers.

Two more hours on buses departing every 15 minutes (what could be more convenient than that) puts you up-close and personal with hands-down the most beautiful buildings on earth...the Petronas Towers. Standing like wedding day brides side-by-side, these towers dominate the KL skyline. But that's not all KL has to offer: a birdpark that "out-birds" Singapore's open-air aviary; the Batu Caves that challenge even the most fit with its 272-step climb; and Little India's weekend night market that rivals the chaos found in "Big" India.

Accessible, unique, historically rich, yet often overshadowed by close-by Thailand and Singapore, these Malaysian cities provide "quality" time for all their visitors.

A Not-So-Hidden Gem

2009-10-22T01:20:00.000-07:00

Now that our time in Singapore is coming to an end, I'm visiting all those places that have taken the back burner to trips, nights out, or just watching TV. Having ridden past the Chinese Garden MRT stop several times, curiosity finally got the better of me...and boy am I glad it did! According to one of my guidebooks, Singapore's Botanical Garden outranks the Chinese Garden by 2 stars. My other guidebook doesn't even mention it. But if you take my advice, Chinese Garden is definitely worth a visit.

Numerous pagodas offer picturesque views of the park from above. Near the Stone Boat lies a pond with hundreds of hungry fish (a couple breeds native to only SE Asia) pouncing the surface for any food stuff. The abundance of bridges vividly reflected in the water it traverses will cause any onlooker to stop for a photo. And for those not impressed by Chinese Gardens, never fear. The Japanese Garden is housed within! Complete with an enclosed bonsai display, both gardens are sure to impress.

Don't be deterred by its "far-away" location. It's right on the way to further-out "no miss" attractions like the Night Safari, Jurong Bird Park, and Singapore Zoo. It also makes for a great day when paired with the Tiger Brewery tour. Even when compared with Botanical Garden's location, Chinese Garden's location is arguably as convenient. After all, currently there is no MRT that stops at Botanical so get ready for the 25 minute walk from MRT to park gate! And once you have arrived, be prepared to battle crowds; unlike the relatively desolate Chinese Garden, Botanical is overrun with families, runners, locals, tourists, and weekend yoga, tai chi, and dance classes.

Though not over-hyped by Singaporeans or guidebooks alike, in my book Chinese Garden is a no-miss.

Past is Prologue

2009-10-16T01:05:00.000-07:00

In the heart of Singapore's Chinatown lies three restored shop houses that offer a peak into Singapore's Chinese heritage, both good and bad. Being a museum, I expected to get a bit of history, learn some tid-bits about the early Chinese settlers, and maybe learn a new Chinese word or two. But what I didn't expect was an unveiling of motivations behind rules, norms, and habits that are now part of Singaporean everyday life.

The museum is set up like a living archive: personal accounts and quotes paper the walls; video taped old-timers recount memories of a less cosmopolitan Singapore; and photos on display archive times past and the red-hatted samsui women who swore off marriage and worked in construction to build the Singapore we know today.

The first video I stopped to watch recounted the post-Raffles days when Singapore's port was open for free trade. Tea and silk were not the only things traded however. Another export got the best of Raffles' new-found colony: opium. Opium dens of various "grades" littered the streets of Chinatown attracting both high-end visitors and "coolies" (manual laborers without vocational skills). And seamen coming ashore en masse also gave rise to another industry still alive and well in Singapore...prostitution. But the opium and prostitution brought more trouble than business. Addiction grew rampant, especially among the lower working class, and sexually transmitted diseases reach pandemic proportions.

When considering these two new realities that hit Singapore by storm, it sheds light on present-day national practices. Drugs are now "highly" illegal. And if you don't know what I mean by "highly," just take a look at your embarkation card as you enter this city-state: "Death for Drug Traffickers" it reads on the back. Also, prostitution is regulated to the nth degree. All prostitutes must register with the government and submit to frequent health screenings, a practice which started in the late-1800s.

In addition to sailors and foreign businessmen flooding Singapore, immigrants from China arrived (and are still arriving) seeking money and a better life. Though some (tailors, barbers, etc.) came with marketable skills, those unskilled lived a hard life most apparent by where and how they lived. With little money and little free time, their living quarters were sub-par to say the least. Recreated in the Chinatown Heritage Centre is the dorm housing common for migrant workers of the 1900s.

You may wonder what closet-size dorm rooms have to do with today's housing situation in Singapore. Well, recently a Filipina migrant I know (with marketable skills, mind you) was ousted from her "apartment" after the building shut for code violations. Apparently the landlord had divided already small apartments into numerous smaller rooms, many without windows or proper ventilation. Dorm living is still a reality in Singapore for much of the migrant worker population (both skilled and not).

But perhaps my favorite historical idiosyncrasy made-present is the "spot reserving" norm here in Singapore. In the heritage museum, one account described an outing to the Majestic Theatre back in its heyday. People used to designate their seat by placing a handkerchief on the location they chose. Any present-day Singaporean knows that reserving your spot during lunch-hour rush is key. And guess what they do? Place their handkerchiefs (well, now they are mass produced napkin packets wrapped in plastic and sold street-side) on the hawker centre table of their choice.

Maybe the past isn't necessarily necessarily prologue; but it sure does hint at what may be to come!

(Samsui photo taken from http://yesterday.sg/2007/04/samsui_women/)

Crossing the Line

2009-10-13T01:59:00.000-07:00

There is a local show here in Singapore that interviews "the new foreigner in town." On the last episode, a Korean newcomer was asked what things she's had to get used to in Singapore...her reply: "Singaporeans love to stand in line...I haven't quite figured out why Singaporeans stand in a long line for something like a free cookie." Boy did she hit the nail on the head!

In a previous blog, I described our experience at the Asian Civilizations Museum on National Museum Day. And yes, it was a free for all. Free admittance, free special exhibition entrance, free ice cream, and of course plenty of free time spent in long lines. But today Singaporean queuing tendencies crossed the line.

On my way to the MRT today, I noticed a queue wrapping around the shopping mall close to home. Amidst the crowd was a small booth with people wearing placards advertising Colgate's Sensitive Pro-Relief toothpaste. Hmmmm...a line for toothpaste? Well, I guess I've stood in line for things of less importance than toothpaste before. But this particular line was not moving; it was a standstill of close to 100 people on their lunch breaks waiting for something Colgate-esque. The time value of money concept was obviously not at play here.

I guess "the new foreigner in town" was right: Singaporeans love to stand in line, or maybe they just have more patience than most. I optimistically concede to the latter.

Mid-Autumn Moon Cake Mayhem

2009-10-08T00:02:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, Singapore (and the rest of Asia) celebrated their Mid-Autumn Festival. As important to Singaporeans as Thanksgiving and Christmas are to Americans, Mid-Autumn Festival is a time for family and friends to gather, light lanterns, watch the moon rise (which is at its fullest and brightest), and eat moon cake.

Legend has it, Cheng'e (the moon goddess) and her husband Houyi were banned to the earth to live as mortals following the death of the Jade Emporors 9 sons at the hands of Houyi. Seeing his wife's distress, Houyi searched out the pill of immortality and once obtained placed it in a case for safe keeping. Curiousity getting the best of her, Chang'e found the pill just as Houyi returned home. Not knowing that only half was needed for her own immortality (the other half was for Houyi), she swallowed the entire pill. She floated to the sky, eventually landing on the moon, and can still be seen dancing there during MoonFest.

For those not impressed by legend and tradition, you are bound to enjoy the moon cakes. Like Christmas cookies, moon cakes come in traditional forms and creative new concoctions. With a gingerbread-esque encasement, traditional cakes are filled with anything from egg to lotus paste while their modern counterparts boast coatings and fillings of chocolate, brandy, or herbed cheese to name a few. And it's no surprise that any hotel with a reputation has their own versions to sell at a price as pretty as the cakes themselves.

So to all my friends, family, and blog followers who couldn't enjoy Mid-Autumn Fest with us, we say: 中秋节快乐 (zhōng qiū jié kuài lè)!

Culinary Curiosities

2009-10-04T01:56:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I remember dreading those 5 words my mom would say when she didn't feel like cooking: "let's have breakfast for dinner." That phrase would usually be followed by post-7pm scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Breakfast for dinner? Come on. But just recently the true arbitrariness of our designated choices for morning, noon, and night cuisine came to light.

Now that the new ION Orchard mall opened, my daily commute requires me to navigate a sea of stores and loitering crowds. Nestled between shoe shops, clothing boutiques, and casual dining restaurants is Dunkin' Donuts. My first encounter with the newly opened store was on my way to church one Sunday morning. I remember making a mental note that Singaporeans must not like donuts. The store was empty except for a few token expats getting their sugar rush for the morning.

The following evening I passed by the same store and couldn't believe my eyes...pouring out of this sweet-treat "breakfast" shop at 10pm were two long lines with dividing ribbons to guide the queues. They even had an addition "express" line for those wanting just one or two donuts. Here in Singapore, donuts are an afternoon and late-night snack not a weekend breakfast item or morning staple for those wearing blue.

It's not just scrambled eggs or Dunkin' Donuts after noon that might cause one to pause either. How about beef noodle soup for breakfast (a staple in Vietnam), red beans and rice for dessert (a sweetened Singaporean treat), or fritatas in the afternoon (ever tried tortilla espanola?). So here's to embracing breakfast time in the evening time. And thanks to my mom who, when dad was out of town, would always suggest: "let's have dessert for dinner."

Foreign Flavors

2009-10-01T01:37:00.000-07:00

No trip would be complete without sampling the local cuisine. That is half of holiday fun! And along with the familiar, there are certain to be foreign flavors worth sampling.

Being the stepchild of the Indo-Chinese peninsula, I had low expectations for Cambodian cuisine. Bland, rice-based imitations of the Thai's flavorful food was what I expected. Boy was I surprised. Amok and glassnoodle salad were favorites of mine in Cambodia. Using lemongrass, coconut milk, chili, and cilantro, these Khmer cuisines tantalized my taste buds and were favorites of mine on the trip. Pineapples and coconuts were a plenty and used for drinks, flavoring, served whole, or as a garnish. As for the more "local" snacks, fried spiders and and silk worms (tasting of nuts and milk) were offered to us along the way.

In Vietnam Pho Bo was an obvious expectation. But for breakfast?? As I soon found out, this noodle and beef soup is not served for dinner, only for the lighter meals of the day. More appropriate for the evening meal were the pancakes (yep, not a breakfast item here). These flour or egg based wrappings (you choose) were more like mini, deep fried tacos than the doughy sweetness of their American counterparts.

For those wanting a continental breakfast rather than traditional Vietnamese soup, there is a culinary surprise for you...the best baguettes I've ever had! Served with butter or jam, the Vietnamese have the French to thank for this addition to their culinary repertoire. Served alongside a glass of iced coffee sweetened with condensed milk (the typical serving method), it is a breakfast both Westerners and Easterners can enjoy.

War Remnants Museum

2009-09-28T01:32:00.000-07:00

This particular topic is emotionally charged to say the least. What I write below are only my perceptions from a post-Vietnam generation perspective. As my parents suggest, people growing up and living through the Vietnam War may have different perspectives than my own. And I welcome comments to this regard!

I should have braced myself for the grand entrance into a communist nation, not to mention a nation that doesn't exactly call Americans friends. Perhaps it's because the Cold War is over and the communist era has taken a backburner to other international issues, I expected Saigon to be alive with all modern conveniences, industry-ready, and tourist friendly. After all, they are opening a Hard Rock Cafe–Saigon this month!

Though modern in many ways, this former South Vietnam stronghold seems to exude sadness. Few smiles are seen on the street; billboards display the hammer and sickle conspicuously alongside Vietnam's flag; and Saigon's main attraction (the Reunification Palace) stands as a daily reminder of communist presence (now reality) in Saigon. But what I saw on the streets did not prepare me for what I saw in the War Remnants Museum.

Formerly know as the Museum of American War Crimes (need I say more), its galleries bear names such as "Aggression War Crimes" and "Historical Truths" gallery (hmmm...can history really be considered "true"?). Within the walls of this museum were photos, captions, stories, and accounts of the atrocities committed by American soldiers during the American–Vietnam War.

True, there are always two sides to every story. But what disturbed me most wasn't what I saw. After all, American soldiers don't have the best reputation for playing fair during wartime. Rather, it was what I didn't see that upset me. There was no mention of South Vietnam as its own sovereign country. There was no mention of civil war. There was no mention of the fact North Vietnam killed their Southern counterparts, too. There was only mention of "liberating" the South from the hands of "the aggressor." It's as if the roots of the war were erased, South Vietnam never existed, and the reality for South Vietnamese was that of complete oppression by the United States.

The artifacts and exhibits themselves I found troubling as well. Captions for many photos created a picture of torturous, violent American soldiers injuring and killing innocent Vietnamese soldiers. At the risk of sounding pithy, this was war, people would die, and it wasn't just the Vietnamese who were dying. Also, many of the photos on display could be left open for interpretation. And with unattributed captions, could we really be so sure that the child was "begging the American soldier to not kill her father."

In content as well as presentation, the museum focused on grains of truth turning them into generalizations and reality. It amplified the actions of the "oppressor" while almost erasing North Vietnam's own participation in wartime activity. It didn't record history, it created history...a history that generations of Vietnamese will now come to know, learn, and believe.

Life Begins

2009-09-24T01:16:00.000-07:00

Traversing the Cambodia–Vietnam border is like crossing from the United States into Mexico. The differences slap you in the face! Not expecting to see much contrast (after all, we were traveling by boat and how much can you really from a riverbank), it became immediately apparent just how different these two neighboring countries are.

Except for borders distinguished by mountains and oceans, I've always thought of territorial lines as a bit arbitrary. A random line drawn by someone a long time ago to distinguish what is mine from what is yours. But as you leave Cambodia and enter Vietnam, the river seems to know it's entering a whole new world. The wide-set banks quickly contract; the unchanging landscape becomes a smorgasbord of chaotic vegetation; and the desolate banks become centers of activity. I found myself wondering if we were on the same river!

Where life along the Mekong in Cambodia saw little activity, the lively banks of Vietnam are a testament to its expansive population (85 million to Cambodia's meager 15 million). Stilted houses sprinkle the Mekong all the way to Chau Doc. Rickety wooden boats with palm leaf canopies transport people and products down, up, and across the river. Those using less traditional methods of transport depend on river ferries to get them and their motorbikes from one side to the other. Even the rice fields come right up to the Mekong's waters.

With few expectations of what life and livelihood is like in Vietnam, traversing the border by boat gives you a taste for what is in store.

The Killing Fields

2009-09-20T01:00:00.000-07:00

The following blog is a bit graphic in its description, so please read with caution.

For anyone taking a visit to Siem Reap, a quick trip to Phnom Penh is a must. If not for your own enrichment, for respect of those who died and acknowledgement of what the worst of humankind has done and still does

today.

S-21, the former Khmer Rouge security prison, was our first stop in Phnom Penh. Housed in a former high school (a concrete testament to Angkor's abhorrence of education and intellectuals), the prison remains much as it was 30 year ago. Barbed wire fences surround the make-shift prison; former classrooms are still divided into tiny bricked cells; wood-framed beds with plaited-metal surfaces alongside iron shackles...all hint at the recurrent tragedies that occurred within its walls for almost 4 years.

Outside, a wooden frame once used for student physical education stands inconspicuous to the uninformed observer. Angkor used this and the pots nearby for hanging and head dunking tortures. Though no prisoners remain, hundreds of prisoner mug shots taken upon entrance to S-21 morbidly reflect just how massive and tragic this 4-year period was. Of those not imprisoned, tortured, and executed in S-21, another fate threatened them just miles outside Phnom Penh. Barely clearing the city's limits lie hundreds of mass graves where thousands of Cambodians spent their last moments of life.

The Killing Fields stimulate all the senses with traces of what once happened. Immediately you notice a subtle yet omnipresent stench of decay. On the walk toward the mass grave sites, you must be careful where you step. Bones, teeth, tattered clothing, and other remains scatter the path. And if the immediacy of the smells and sights doesn't stir your heart, the sounds of times past will. Hanging near the holding sight where most awaited death were speakers that blared music. Music at an execution site may seems like a cruel irony. But bullets were a commodity so bludgeoning (evidenced by the hundreds of cracked skulls on display) was used as a more cost-effective method of execution. You see, the music was necessary to muffle the screams as hoes, hammers, and axe handles hit their victims.

Angkor took to heart its mantra "clearing grass, it shall dig its entire root off." Adjacent to the mass graves stands a tree where the "roots" of the family were destroyed. Soldiers would hold babies by their feet and swing the child's head at the tree. And for children not killed, they were recruited as Angkor soldiers to support the Khmer Rouge and commit these horrendous deeds.

Those who were not subjected to these philosophically-motivated atrocities had a fate of starvation and disease in the work villages of the Cambodian frontier. It was a time when no one was safe, everyone was suspect, and families were torn apart. It was a time not to be forgotten.

Remembering the Past

2009-09-17T01:08:00.000-07:00

While visiting Cambodia, it is easy to get caught up in the sight-seeing bustle: temple touring, exquisite eating, and night-market souvenir shopping. But reality for the older generation is not a Cambodia prospering from tourism or educating its young for a multi-cultural, multi-lingual world. It is a Cambodia with a painful past.

Pol Pot and his Khmer Rogue regime came to power in 1975. The transfer of political leadership was welcomed by most as the country sought an end to the looming civil war. Marching through Phnom Penh in victory, the black-clad Khmer Rogue soldiers were greeted at first with cheers. Within the week, however, the regime evacuated the entire city warning of impending American attacks to the city. They would return after 3 days when the city was safe, the soldiers told them. But most never saw their beloved home again. During the 4 years of Pol Pot's reign more than 2 million Cambodians (about 1/5 of the country's population) died...half by execution and half by disease or starvation.

As I visited the capitol city 30 year later, I looked into the eyes of many Cambodian locals and wondered what those eyes had seen. Were their parents executed? Were their children killed? How many bodies did they bury because of starvation? How close did they come to death themselves? For the younger generation, I wondered what they knew of their country's riddled past. Do they believe the accounts of those who lived through it? Or to them are they just stories?

When we tell our children what happened they don't believe us, our tour guide said. Only when they come to see (the Killing Fields, S-21) and learn it in school do they start to believe. And those who lived through it still wonder how fellow Cambodians could commit such acts against their own people. Of our tour guide's 50 relatives retained by Angkor (Pol Pot's ruling body), only 3 survived.

How quickly the world forgets, and forgetting begets repeating. That is why one survivor visits S-21 whenever time permits to tell his stories and show people the tragic history of his country. We were lucky enough to speak with him during our museum visit.

One of only 7* to survive the brutal torture of the notorious S-21 security prison, Chum Mey managed to avoid suspicion and accusation because of his mechanical prowess, fixing cars and other items for Angkor. But when friends were arrested, they falsely accused him as a mere matter of survival. CIA, was what his friend told Angkor, and our survivor was tortured until he admitted it, too. Electric shocks, hanging by hands tied from behind, and head dunking into pots of dung were common methods used for "persuading" accusations and confessions. Pol Pot's regime ended before our survivor met the fate of the 16,000 other prisoners held within S-21's walls.

Throughout the year, Chum Mey walks back into the same rooms and faces the brutal memories of those 2 years spent in S-21. If for no other reason than to acknowledge his experience, his nightmare, his pain, we must remember the past.

*According to Wikipedia, there were 12 known survivors of S-21. We were told 7 during our visit to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Phnom Penh.

Cambodia: The Personal Touch

2009-09-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

Entering Cambodia is kind of like leaving Texas for Oklahoma. While Thailand boasts bustling cities, cultural prowess, and beautiful terrain, it is easy to see that Cambodia can't compete. But what Cambodia lacks in luster it makes up for in personality. You can't leave the country without feeling personally touched by the friendliness, genuineness, and kindness of the Cambodia people.

The terrain itself (unchanging landscape with rice paddies, palm trees, and little else) seems to foreshadow a dull and struggling existence. But the minute you interact on the personal level, you know you've crossed the border. Laughing, smiling, and genuinely curious and friendly, the Cambodian people make you feel welcome everywhere you go.

Though vendors persistently vie for your business in and around Siem Reap, a friendly decline will usually send them smiling about their way. One child approached me and asked where I was from. Being loyal to my home state, I said Texas of course. "Capitol Austin," he replied. A stream of child laughter followed from his friends in tow and a dumbfounded look on my face probably scared him away!

The "big city" of Phnom Penh is a mere shadow of what Bangkok offers. Though boasting a beautiful grand palace and a scattering of museums, this city of 2 million is a humble version of its rival capital to the west. But what Cambodia has to offer goes deeper than museums, monuments, and looks...just visit the Phnom Penh Grand Palace Promenade and you'll see. Residents sit on the lawn enjoying food purchased from nearby street vendors; local boys flip and dive off a metal embankment into the Tonle Sap river; an elephant stops traffic on the main thoroughfare between river and city and onlookers feed it bananas and water. The Cambodian people seem to run on a naturally up-beat pulse, enjoying life at every turn.

Family, friends, and general camaraderie seem to be of utmost priority. On weekends, groups of acquaintances meet to catch the local soccer match in a roadside field. Armed with blankets, snack, and drinks, hundreds sit as spectators while sharing each others' company. Even the size of families here pays tribute to the importance of relationships...a family of 5 is considered small by Cambodian standards!

Things run at a slow pace, but that doesn't mean service is slow or things don't get done. Cambodians are incredibly hard workers and know how to keep customers happy. Rarely do you wait more than 15 minutes for a meal, and on more than one occasion I was given too much change because the vendor didn't have the correct amount. On my final day in Siem Reap, I hired a tuk tuk driver to take me out on my own. Despite ominous clouds and torrential rain, he clad himself in an industrial-strength poncho, drove head-first into the downpour, and still opened my door with a smile.

In every situation, every location, and every person, you can't get away from Cambodia's personal touch.

The Stories of Angkor Wat

2009-09-10T01:10:00.000-07:00

Angkor Wat's claim to fame is its status as world's largest single religious monument. Coupled with the more than 200 intact wats that surround it, this is what attracts tourists (more than 2 million every year) to Siem Reap. But if you take your time, strolling through the wats, observing the people, and spending quiet time within its walls you'll find more than exquisitely detailed Khmer architecture here. The Temples of Angkor tell a story...a story of war and strife, a story of praise and destruction, a story of life as it was and life as it is. You see, even today, the Temples of Angkor are alive and ready to reveal their truths.

It is a story history, both in its construction and destruction. The extravagance and sheer scale of its construction reflect an unprecedented prosperity in Khmer history from the 9th to 14th centuries. But many years of neglect as the Khmer empire fell left the temples vulnerable to overgrowth and erosion. And later the destructive tendencies of wars and Pol Pot's regime left many temples a mere shadow of their once held beauty.

It is a story of religion, as it unfolded and changed. In its most obvious aspect, Angkor Wat served a religious purpose dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu. But even its architectural layout is symbolic of the religious beliefs of the time. Built with three main levels (bottom for laymen, middle for religious officials, and top for royalty), it is indicative of deification of kings and high regard of religion. As you look closer, however, Hindu symbolism mixes with Buddhist representations in art and sculpting telling of the Khmer religious conversion in the late 13th century.

It is a story of innovation, in both character and technique. Though using familiar architectural schemas such as roman-like cylindrical columns and towered, castle-like structures, Khmer architecture is very much its own. Intricate carvings in every wall and crevice and tiered towers in cascading cone-like shapes make Angkor Wat's facade unmistakeably unique. Even the materials used, ranging from mountain-stock sandstone to bricks processed from termite hills, reflect innovative retrieval and creation methods.

It is a story of life, both past and present. The grounds once used as the commercial, political, religious, and monarchical center is the heartbeat of present-day Siem Reap. Children come out to play within its walls when the rain lures them out. They sing, tell stories, and build sandcastles resembling the cascading towers that surround them. Tuk tuk drivers, souvenir vendors, hotel owners, and restaurateurs depend on this massive tourist attraction for their living...and quite a living it is. (The people in Siem Reap seem comparatively more prosperous than in other parts of Cambodia.) Even today, rice paddies maintain their important agricultural status as they are interspersed between wats within the complex.

For us, the wats were "discovered" by the French 200 years ago. But for Cambodians, Angkor Wat has always been there telling its stories of the past and reflecting the stories of today.