california dreaming

Once again, we have fallen woefully behind in our updates.  Being a sucker for posterity, I feel compelled to put something in the record about our trip to California from Hong Kong last month.  But, for the sake of picking up the pace, I will let the pictures do most of the talking on this one.  Here’s a quick recap.

After five fascinating months in Asia and 70,000+ kilometers traveled… over land, air and sea… via train, car, bus, motorcycle, motorcycle sidecar, scooter, bike, plane, boat, canoe, camel and elephant… Aman and I boarded a late night flight to Los Angeles in early May.  With the reality of being stateside imminently before us, various feelings were astir.  Not least of all, apprehension.  As you might imagine, despite all those kilometers traveled, neither of us was looking forward to a 13 plus hour flight.  You can furthermore imagine our faces when we were told that it was a full flight, and that we would be seated in two center seats.  No window, no aisle, not for either of us…  We looked at each other in horror.  How could we have let this happen???  We couldn’t believe it.  Amazingly, however, the flight was really comfortable and we slept for most of our trip across the Pacific Ocean.  Go figure, we couldn’t believe that one either.

Just as it had taken off 13 hours earlier, our flight landed late on a Tuesday night.  As we waited patiently in line to clear through immigration, a montage of patriotic images flickered on TV screens mounted above the immigration officers’ desk counters.  It felt really good to be coming back to the U.S. for a short while, a nice transition between our recent adventures in Asia and our upcoming summer in Europe. 

We were stopping in California for two weeks, primarily to obtain some additional travel visas.  Aman needed his Schengen tourist visa in order to visit Europe over the summer, and I had to get a tourist visa to visit Brazil, where we plan to be later this year.  In our downtime, we hoped to discover what the Golden State had to offer.

So, after a few initial days in Santa Monica (a neighborhood favorite of mine) preparing our visa applications, running from embassy to embassy, and dealing with the culture shock of being in the U.S. for the first time in five months, we hit the road for a weekend drive up the coast through the sparsely populated region of Big Sur.  This is something that I had wanted to do for years, and I knew it would be an idyllic experience, but WOW.  It was probably the highlight of our time in California.  An absolutely spectacular ride along the rugged coast of the Pacific Ocean, and all we kept saying to each other was WOW.

We got to Monterey (where we were staying for the weekend) in the early evening and then it hit us: jetlag.  Doh!!  It hit us hard too.  As a result, we took it easy the next couple of days, which included a scenic ride along 17-Mile Drive through Pacific Grove and Pebble Beach on the Monterey peninsula.  A “must do” for anyone visiting the Monterey area, which (incidentally) we would have missed had one of Aman’s friends not told us about it when he heard that we were there. (Thanks Ben!)

The drive back to southern California was as breathtaking and relaxing as the ride north.  Just before we hit San Simeon, we stopped for awhile to check out thousands of elephant seals in their rookery, or natural land based habitat.  It was pretty good timing, since they only stop in this area twice a year (they are at sea for 10 months or more a year).  We caught them (the juveniles and females) during the annual molting season (when they shed, and then grow new hair and skin), so they were all different shades of gray, silver and beige.

Back in Santa Monica, we were in striking distance of some great beaches, which we sampled aplenty.  We loved the chill vibe and how much activity – surfing, volleyball, skateboarding – was going on, everywhere we went.

Santa Monica Beach:

Malibu:

Laguna Beach:

Venice Beach:

Hermosa Beach:

After we had exhausted the local beaches, we made a long haul one day and visited Joshua Tree National Park, which sits in the Mojave Desert, three hours east of the Los Angeles area.  Not sure what we were expecting to find out there, but it was so interesting and definitely worth the trip.  A friend of ours likened the experience to walking through a place created by Dr. Seuss and, after seeing it, we would agree with you Les.  Crazy-looking vegetation and huge piles of massive red boulders scattered about in an otherwise barren land.  It was wildly surreal.

We spent our last days attending to all of the little things that would become infinitely more difficult to accomplish once we were back on the road (e.g., dry cleaning, laundry, getting haircuts).  We packed and shipped a 30-pound box of excess stuff that we had acquired back to a friend in New York.  We had brunch and spent the day with a good friend who happened to be in California on business.  Most importantly, we picked up our passports containing the travel visas that we needed to continue on this journey.

And, like that, two more weeks flew by.

hong kong

With the Chinese mainland behind us, Aman and I made a quick stopover in Hong Kong.  I had never been to HK before this journey, but Aman had visited last year.  He had come home after that trip favorably impressed that Hong Kong was a dynamic, diverse and all round happening place.  Thus, we added it to the itinerary for our adventure so that I could check it out and Aman could get to know the area a little better. 

Stopping in HK was also a brilliant excuse to see two dear friends, Kismet and Vineet.  By the time we got there, it had been 79 days on the road since Aman and I had left India and stayed in the company of family and friends.  Although we had met some fabulous people since then and made lots of new friends along the way, there was something special about seeing two familiar faces.  We hadn’t seen Kismet and Vineet since they visited us last summer in New York.  And, like it always is to spend time with old friends, our visit with them went by too fast! 

Aman and I arrived in Hong Kong on a Thursday evening.  Technically, this was our second pass through HK, because we had stopped for two nights on our way to the China mainland.  Kismet and Vineet were out of town then, but kind enough to leave behind a set of keys so we could stay at their place.  We used the same keys to let ourselves back in to their apartment when we arrived that Thursday night where we found Kismet, Vineet being still at work.  The conversation that ensued with Kismet upon our arrival was the non-stop type that you have with a good friend whom you haven’t seen in way too long.  There was so much to catch up on and we jabbered on for hours about everything that had been happening on our respective ends.  Eventually, Vineet freed up at work so we all met for a relaxing dinner at a nearby waterfront restaurant on Stanley Main Street.

Stanley, the town in which Kismet and Vineet live, is located in the southeastern part of Hong Kong Island, east of Repulse Bay.  Aman and I really liked this area, and it was not hard for us to see why Kismet and Vineet live there rather than the “Midlevels” neighborhood, where many ex-pats initially choose to live when they move to HK.  Stanley is a little further out from the business and commercial district of Central.  It has a nice beach, a developed waterfront street chock full of restaurants and bars, and the famous Stanley Market, which is a delightfully chaotic array of small shops, street stalls, and fascinating people.

After a night of proper catching up with Kismet and Vineet, Aman and I spent a quiet day in.  There was much to do – laundry, bills, planning the next leg of our trip, organizing our photos from China, touching base with various family members now that we could communicate by phone with the outside world again, etc. – and it took pretty much the whole day to accomplish everything on our “to-do” lists.  In the evening, we met Kismet and Vineet for dinner and drinks at Cicada, a trendy fusion-Asian tapas restaurant located in the Soho neighborhood.  It was raining out, and the night-crawlers moved about under the safety of their umbrellas.

The weather did not improve much the next day, but that did not stop Aman and I from getting out to explore HK’s Central a bit more.  Walking around, I was amazed (but not surprised) at the towering views of the surrounding skyscrapers everywhere – Aman had told me before we arrived that, in visiting HK, I would see one of the most vertical cities in the world and I did.  

Later that night, we met Kismet, Vineet and another lovely couple of friends (Maansi and Rohit) for dinner at a Sichuan restaurant that Aman had tried the year before when he visited HK and came home raving about.  He insisted that I try this restaurant too, because it not only had delicious, fiery Sichuan cuisine but also, one of its owners, a former Chinese opera singer, is known for her soprano voice and singing a Chinese aria for everyone at the end of the night.  The food was well balanced (no menu, everyone gets served a standard sequence of dishes that alternate between spicy and non-spicy), and the aria was beautiful.  It was a very unique experience.  Then, after dinner, we all walked over to Lan Kwai Fong, or LKF, a hip and vibrant area in Central known for its electrifying nightlife.  There, the fun continued.  Great area to experience HK nightlife.  I was impressed by how packed the bars were – with people spilling into the streets everywhere.

The next day, we drove into Central for brunch.  It was Sunday, which meant that all of the housemaids had the day off…  Aman had prepared me for this little phenomenon – generally speaking, most families in HK have maids to help with the housework.  Most of the maids are foreigners (principally from Indonesia or the Philippines), and they typically live with the family for whom they work.  Naturally, they spend most of the time in and around the house, except for Sundays when they all get out for their day off.  Perhaps for lack of anywhere else to go, groups of housemaids congregate on sidewalks and in other public areas - to socialize, listen to music, dance, read books, have picnics, paint each other’s fingernails, and generally let the day pass.  From a sociocultural perspective, it was quite an interesting sight.  This was just one small group out of many that we passed that afternoon.

After brunch, we drove to Kowloon to check one of the world’s most densely populated urban neighborhoods.  The place makes Manhattan look like a relative ghost town.  It was mind-boggling how many people were in the crowded streets.

It also boggled our minds how so many people could stand the acrid smell of durian (revered in southeast Asia as the “king of fruits”), which permeated the air at times.  The four of us literally held our breath and walked as fast as possible whenever we got a whiff of it coming from one of the street vendors.

We rounded out the day with a brief stop at the driving range followed by a great meal at one of Aman’s favorite pizza restaurants outside of New York, Pizza Express.

At Kismet’s helpful suggestion, Aman and I decided to go hiking the next morning.  Neither of us had any idea that Hong Kong has so many great places to go for a nature walk, but it does.  The trails are plentiful, and vary in terms of length and difficulty.  We picked a slightly difficult 5.2 km trail (the Tai Tam Country Trail) that roughly took us two and a half hours to complete.  The trail winds up and then down a steep hill, around a reservoir and then along a path that winds through some points of historical significance.  (The area was the scene of heavy fighting between the Commonwealth and Japanese forces in 1941.)  It was a damp and humid day, and given our altitude, we walked at times in a shroud of clouds and fog.  Not the greatest day for a view of HK Island, but still, a quiet hike in the woods was a nice break after walking the crowded city streets for so many days.

The following day, it was time to pack and move on.  After five amazing months, was this really our last day in Asia?  Wow!  The time had gone so fast and, at the same time, it felt like we had been away from home for such a long time.

We spent the morning packing our bags, and then took a short walk down to nearby Stanley Beach.  Despite the overcast sky, it was a hot and sticky day (common in HK). It was also a national holiday so lots of people had the day off, and the beach was full of activity.

Aman and I sat on a low concrete wall separating the sandy beach from the picnic area, taking it all in.  What struck us about the scenes that flashed around us - parents playing with their children at the water's edge, a group of friends having a cookout, a church group on an outing - did not seem all that foreign, even though we were in a very foreign land.  True, we had been in several foreign lands since starting our year-long epic adventure.  The point is that we could've been anywhere in the world, it seemed.  It's amazing how similar people are sometimes, given all of our cultural differences.

So, in short, thank you Asia.  It was a wild ride that we will never forget.

the breakfast special

We were putting together our final update on China yesterday and sorting through our myriad photos, when we realized that we don’t say enough about breakfast in our posts.  Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day and usually one of the first words out of my mouth in the morning (right after coffee).  While traveling in India and Asia, breakfast provided us not only essential nutrition every day, but also a chuckle some mornings. 

In Goa, for example, Aman and I ate a delicious breakfast each day at the beach outside of our awesome dome at the blissfully serene Yab Yum resort. 

Looking back now, these were some pretty awesome mornings.  We would put in our breakfast order the night before, which typically consisted of a request for fresh fruit, homemade bread with butter and jam, some type of eggs (for Aman), and Indian hand-pressed coffee.  In the morning, someone would set everything up at our breakfast table and call towards our dome to let us know that it was ready.  Most mornings we were already awake by the time breakfast was being set up, but we would wait to get out of bed until we heard the gentle noise of glasses and plates clinking outside.  On one morning, however, we were late getting up.  When the breakfast boy called, I popped my head out of the thatched door into the dazzling morning sunlight. 

Okay, thank you, I said with a smile.  We’ll be right there. 

Ma’am, the breakfast boy said.  He looked like he had to run, but he didn’t move from his spot beside the table.  He glanced down helplessly at the table of food he just set, but didn’t say anything else. 

Yes, I am just going to let Aman know it’s ready, I told him.  We’ll be right there. 

Ma’am, the breakfast boy said again.  I can’t stay. 

Okay, this didn’t surprise me, as breakfast hour was quite busy at Yab Yum and I was sure that he had to run another order to someone else’s dome.  Sure, that’s fine, I said as I turned to head back into the dome to get Aman.  We’ll be right there. 

Ma’am, the boy said yet again, this time a little more firmly.  He wore the same helpless look on his face. 

Yes?  I asked, genuinely not understanding what the problem was. 

The boy looked at the food, and then at the sky.  Ma’am, it is noisy this morning. 

Huh?  I thought, as the thought appeared on my face.

It is too noisy this morning, he repeated, reading my confused look. 

I looked at him blankly.  What is he talking about, I thought to myself.  I’m sorry, I said…  He was trying to tell me something, but what was it… 

It is noisy, ma’am…  the birds. 

I stopped and listened, and sure enough he was right.  The crows were particularly loud this morning.  But what did this have to do with anything?  And then I got it.  What he was trying to tell me was that there were a lot of crows nearby, and either he or I needed to stand near the table, otherwise the birds would swoop down and steal my breakfast. 

Ah, I see, I told the boy.  Thank you. 

I walked outside to guard our food, as the boy tore down the beach and back to the kitchen.  I took a seat, started pressing the coffee and called for Aman to come join the crows and me for breakfast.  When he came out, I explained to him that it was noisy this morning.  I smiled when he gave me the same confused look that I had given the breakfast boy minutes earlier.

In Ko Phi Phi, a breakfast buffet was served at the waterfront restaurant of our hotel each morning.  Generally speaking, Aman and I have had great luck with breakfast buffets since starting this trip.  But, Ko Phi Phi was definitely the exception to this trend.  Our first morning in town was a gloriously sunny day.  Aman and I walked to the restaurant to scope out the situation.  The buffet was small, so there were little options.  And what was provided did not look very appetizing.  But it was free, so we decided to give it a shot.  Aman went to speak to a woman making eggs and omelets while I put some bread in the toaster for us.  I poured two cups of coffee and set them down on an empty table.  I grabbed our toast and some butter but, realizing that I would need more than just bread to make it through the morning, I started peeking in the chrome buffet trays.  The least offensive-looking option, I thought, were some roasted potatoes so I put a spoonful or two on my plate.  I walked over to a chrome tray where Aman stood surveying the seasonings for his eggs:  ketchup, chili flakes, salt, etc.   We seasoned accordingly, and sat down to indulge.   I took a sip of my coffee as Aman put a forkful of eggs in his mouth.  The eggs taste sweet here, Aman said as he made a funny face.  I looked at him, at first, not knowing what to say, as I took a forkful of roasted potatoes and, slowly, started to think the same thing.  So do the potatoes, I said slowly.  We looked at each other, in silence, chewing.  I felt a smile coming on, and saw the same look in Aman.  Do you think that salt was sugar, I asked, taking another forkful of potatoes.  Probably, Aman replied, as he dug back into his eggs.  We tried not to laugh as we continued to eat.  Who puts an unmarked jar of sugar next to ketchup and chili flakes on a buffet table, I asked.  Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming, Aman replied.  The next day, we stuck to toast.

When we reached Dalat, we stayed in a really nice hotel with one of the best breakfast buffets that we’ve encountered thus far on this trip.  Hot food, plus all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables, a variety of cereals and yogurts, cheeses and sliced meats, made-to-order pho and eggs – it was beautiful.  Pleased with our options, Aman got himself involved with an omelet while I put together a ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat.  The food was so good that we decided to grab some more… breakfasts like this don’t come around everyday, after all.  I went straight for the salad bar.  Perhaps, not your typical breakfast choice, but we were in Dalat, a.k.a. the vegetable capital of Vietnam.  And, besides, I had just eaten a ham and cheese sandwich.  So, I grabbed a clean plate and loaded it with three different types of lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes.  Next to the display of fresh vegetables were three unmarked dishes of salad dressing.  Which one, which one, I thought.  After building such a beautiful salad, it would be a shame to ruin it with the wrong dressing.  Aha, I saw a restaurant employee a few feet away.  Maybe he knows which one is which, I thought.  Excuse me, I said, pointing to the three bowls.  Are these different?  They were obviously different, but I figured I’d start with an easy question to see how much English our man comprehended.  My friend looked at me confused.  These are not the same, no?  I asked.  Perhaps if I rephrased the question…  My friend started to respond to me in Vietnamese.  He lifted a spoonful of dressing from one of the dishes and returned it to the bowl, as he talked up a storm in Vietnamese.  Gesturing as if he were still holding the spoon, he demonstrated how to put a spoonful of dressing on the salad I was holding.  Yes, that’s how we use salad dressing too, I thought.  Thank you, I said with a smile and a sigh.  The man walked away and I saw for the first time that Aman had been standing behind him the entire time watching this scene unfold.  Aman broke out a huge grin and started to laugh uncontrollably.  It’s okay… as long as you find this funny, I said as I grabbed a handful of clean spoons and small cups to start sampling the salad dressings.  In the end, it turned out to be a delicious salad.

  

Another breakfast favorite was Xi’an.  There, we stayed at a cheap hotel that offered a breakfast option (for $3 per person), but the online reviews of the breakfast were really bad.  So we chose to fend for ourselves.  On our first morning in town, we asked the receptionist where we could find something to eat for breakfast.  He didn’t seem to have a clue so we offered some direction.  We want dumplings, Aman explained.  Our guy looked confused.  Dumplings?  Aman asked, making a little round circle with his thumb and his pointer finger.  We knew that the Chinese do not call dumplings, dumplings, but we couldn’t remember what the Mandarin word was…  Another receptionist – who had a far better grasp of English than the colleague we were talking to – came to our rescue, and pointed out a dumpling place right across the street.  Score, we thought, and off we went.  We had no problem finding the place that the receptionist was talking about.

The only problem was that we had no way of knowing which dumpling was stuffed with what.  We certainly didn’t know how to ask.  So we went into observation mode, watching closely as customer after customer came and went.  Was there anyway to tell which dumpling was which?  Was there one dumpling that seemed more popular than others?  Finally, we decided to wing it.  Aman approached the window.  Nihao, he said to the young man behind the corner.  He put up two fingers and pointed to one of the bamboo baskets of dumplings that had just been accessed.  Then, he pointed to another basket and another basket.  Our man handed us a pair of four different types of dumplings in a thin plastic bag, which cost about 50 cents.  We proudly took our purchase back across the street and found a table in the hotel lobby where we down sat to eat our dumpling breakfast, feeling quite smug about our success at closing the dumpling transaction.  The first one we tried was good; it had some type of vegetable in it.  Although Aman didn’t care for it, I thought the second was okay too; it was filled with a paste of sweet potato or yams.  The third one, filled with a bean paste, was not our favorite, and we both passed on it after one bite.  But the last one was stuffed with tender meat and it was delicious.  As we were very hungry that morning, we decided to go another round, focusing strictly on the dumplings we liked.  But, how we would tell our man which ones those were?  The solution:  Aman asked the hotel receptionist to write down “four meat dumpling” and “four vegetable dumpling” in Mandarin.  Aman took the piece of paper back across the street and gave it to the dumpling man, who clearly found this all to be quite amusing.  He smiled as he filled our order and handed another thin plastic bag of eight dumplings to Aman.  Aman paid the man and said, xie xie, as he took his change and, more importantly, the piece of paper that said “four meat dumpling” and “four vegetable dumpling” so that we could order breakfast the next day.  By the third day, we didn’t need the paper – our man knew who we were.

In all, breakfast has been one of the more interesting meals of the day for us.  It’s fun to think how much the typical, local breakfast cuisine has changed from country to country.  In India, we mostly ate parathas (Indian flat bread) or dosas (Indian crepes), whereas, in Vietnam, the daily breakfast was pho (seasoned broth with rice noodles).  And, in China, it was dumplings that started our day, everyday. 

By now, we’ve reached Europe and are waiting to see what becomes the daily favorite.  Jamon baguettes seem to be the early front-runner, but otherwise, we have developed no discernible patterns.  Yesterday morning, for example, Aman ate a leftover lamajeune (Turkish flat bread pizza) from the night before and I had a roasted chicken breast.  Completely random, and I can’t possibly see these becoming a habit…