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I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Liz, of A Girl in Asia, in her new series -- Behind the Blog. I met up with Liz when we were in Ho Chi Minh City, her current stomping grounds (she's lived all over the world for the past few years -- even had her baby girl in Bangkok!) and she was a delight. Liz is as worldly as she is friendly . . . We had a great brunch and she introduced me to the cutest little cafe in Saigon.
Click here to read full interview.
(two men chat at Hoan Kiem Lake.)
Crossing the street in Hanoi is an exercise in faith and false confidence -- the zillions of mopeds swerve gracefully around us, a sea parting for our tiny human island. My sense of security and safety has escaped with the buzz of the bikes whizzing by. An odd calm takes over and I find myself untouched and breathless on the other side . . . Being in Asia for almost five months, you'd think I'd get more relaxed about this business, but I still find my heart fluttering and my feet leaping to the curb. I've made it yet again!
(alley wall)
The buzz just ripples outwards from the steady hum of the streets -- permeating every surface and experience in Hanoi. A meditative oasis Hanoi is not, rather a city-lover's haven. Powered by the Vietnamese liquid heart-attack coffee (this stuff will make your eyeballs burst from your skull) and delicious desserts, one can easily get lost for days walking narrow streets, back alleys, and around the city lakes.
(peppers and fresh produce on the street.)
In Hanoi, even the fashions are on high-speed -- trendy sky-high boots, trim wool coats and coiffed hairstyles abound. A 5-inch Laboutin heel can push a motorbike up the curb and handle 3-point parking no problem -- A feat and understanding of space I could never accomplish in a pair of converse. My Vietnamese sisters must get their strength from the sesame street donuts.
(the alley near by the Com Chay Ha Tranh Restaurant.)
The streets here sell endless variations of the same item -- one lane dedicated to tombstones, another Chinese New Year papers and decorations, an entire block for spices and medicine/herbs, how about zippers and buttons? I swear you could find ANY button ever made here, right down the street from our hotel. Baby stuff street? check. Candy, kitchen supplies, hats, pajamas, toys, watches, books, silks --every commodity demands a street with at least 10 different stalls selling the EXACT same goods. My American sense of capitalism and diverse marketing strategies (like a sale or a way to stand out) just go nuts. How can they all co-exist? They do well! And the vendors (competitors?) sit down for Pho (Vietnamese street soup) together for lunch. Mind boggling.
(a perfect cappuccino speaks for itself.)
It's a little tougher being vegetarian here than other countries -- the concept of "no meat" and my hand gestures in a big x while pointing at cow parts are loosely interpreted... There is an exception to the difficulty of finding vegetarian food though -- a short walk down a good-looking alley will lead you to Com Chay Ha Tranh, the hand holding a lotus on the sign will beckon you to come into the unassuming restaurant (with about 30 other crammed locals) and tuck into a bowl of purely vegetarian pho or whatever other faux-meat dish you can imagine. Veg or non-veg, this place has got funky delicious flavors for about 1.00 US per dish. I didn't venture into the vegetarian pig ears, but if you've got the curiosity, they've got the fake-meat counterpart to almost all things animal . . .
(the end of the bun bo hue, so sad it's over.)
Our Bun Bo Hue (a huge bowl of noodle soup with fake beef) was a wonderful example of sour, sweet, salty, fresh and hot (both in temperature and flavor), a harmonizing combination of all the flavors that so characterize Vietnamese cooking. After a big bowl of soup, we indulge in a pastry at L'Epicerie du Metropole -- it's divine and pairs perfectly with a strong Vietnamese-style coffee with condensed milk or an "Italian style" cappuccino. Good thing we're well-fueled and high off the sugar and caffeine --you've got to be alert and buzzin to truly take this place in.
If you go:
Hanoi Opera House -- classic French architecture, lovely to people-watch on its steps
1 Trang Tien St.
Tel: 84.04.(9330113 - 9330114 - 9330131- 9330132)
www.nhahatlon.org.vn
Hoan Kiem Lake -- do as the locals and do a brisk stroll, pausing for stretches and boba tea
Hoan Kiem District
Cinametechque -- Art House Movie theater, wine and sodas are available to bring into the movie
22A Hai Ba Trung
Hoan Kiem District
84-04 936 2648
L'Epicerie du Metropole -- the most perfect chocolate tart on Earth
Hotel Metropole Hanoi
Le Phung Hieu St.
Hanoi
tel. (84-4) 3826 6919 ext. 8702
sofitelhanoi@hn.vnn.vn
Thai Express -- lacking in atmosphere (like being in a mall restaurant), but the yellow curry with tofu and mango salad (a favorite of the Thai Princesses, so the menu says) are fresh and delicious
No. 7 Dinh Tien Hoang
Hoan Kiem District
tel. (+84-4) 62 822 822
Com Chay Ha Tranh -- unbelievable vegetarian restaurant, down a superb alley
116 ngo 166 Kim Ma
Ba Dinh District
tel: 04 37263381
(view from our boat)
After four hours of sitting in a half-seat on a cramped bus, and a pit stop at a crazed tourist emporium . . . We made it onto the junk (that's what they call these boats here) and into the Halong Bay. After much debate whether or not the excursion would be too touristy or lame or whatever -- we arrived and it was SPECTACULAR!!
The seascape and limestone rock formations were out-of-this-world beautiful. We couldn't help but sing the Jurassic Park theme song the entire time (I'm listening to it again as I type this, as per D's request and it's so rad), the craggy cliffs and greenery were just so easy to imagine dinosaurs, sea monsters and dragons prancing upon. Between the mist, the good company of our boat mates and the 20 minutes of sunshine that poked out while we paddled around the coves, the Halong Bay was divine.
(me looking out, cozy in the cabin -- photo by D)Cuddling in the cabin and feeling the boat sway while watching the cliffs go by was one of my favorite parts of the Halong Bay. 
(all kinds of fruits are available, even all the way out at sea)Lastly, my interest in fruits was satisfied even out at sea! There was many different types to choose from, sadly we had no change and the young girl sellers (on wooden rafts!) wouldn't budge with their prices... So we settled for eating peanut butter and Ritz crackers in our room, while playing dominoes waiting for dinner to be served. Next trip to the Halong Bay, I'll bring smaller amounts of dong.
I bought a few of EACH candy at the grocery store the other day. I realize after looking through the last few posts from Vietnam, I am having a bit of a problem with the ole sweet tooth! The treats here are so intriguing though -- some of the candies have such a gummy texture -- more like eating rubber than a sweety. The packaging is so cute though, it's hard to resist. Look at that chocolate -- it's called "Feeling." We also saw a big box of chocolates that had a large cursive label that read "Warmly." I guess the chocolates inside are supposed to make you feel cozy?
Okay, okay, so I have been eating a little too much candy lately, but a guy next to us at the supermarket had a downright addiction -- he was filling up bag after bag of the "corn candy." We thought they must be good, how could someone get that much of ONE candy and it not be good? Well, they tasted like chewing on a piece of yellow tire, with a faint essence of popcorn butter and plastic as the end note -- not worth the energy it took to gnaw through the darn thing. The chocolate? It was a disgrace to the word "chocolate." . . . an experience akin to sucking on a dab of crisco -- an absolutely flavorless tragedy.
These gummy squares are lovely to look at and one of my favorite candies tasted thus far -- a mix between a Turkish delight and a sour-patch kid. Their flavor is not too artificial and their pastel color is so light and pretty.
Lastly, look at these pandas cuddling! What they lack in texture and flavor (plastic bouncy ball), they make up for in cuteness.
The candy tasting did teach me a few things -- there are people who detest chewiness in their textural eating experiences and those in the other camp, who enjoy the chew (we enjoy boba tea, sour gummy worms, sour jelly beans, etc.). I always put myself into the chewy camp . . . but now I realize there's a whole other level, like the corn candy man (expert connoisseur?). I'm not sure if I'll ever get so chewy, but I accept my mid-level status. Now, onto a healthy dinner and a good teeth-brushing.
I had the opportunity to write a piece and create images of the textures of Vietnam at a wonderful style blog, Mochatini.org, authored by the lovely Manvi. Want to see and know what Vietnam feels like?
Click here.
(the most divine chocolate tart rests on the white comforter in our hotel room -- it looks so innocent before being devoured!)
(A flowery mango is scored and placed atop slightly sweetened sticky rice, swimming in a warm bath of coconut cream. This was the best version of this beloved dish that I've ever had -- served at Thai Express in Hanoi. {Photo by David})
One of the many wonderful aspects of traveling in Vietnam and sampling the country's complex cuisine is the attention to delicious desserts. From the French tradition of tarts and macarons to the use of local ingredients such as mangos, coconut milk and sticky rice -- the variation is dazzling, the flavors and mixture of East/West harmonious. In fact, we just brought the world's most elegant chocolate tart back to our room (to eat in bed!) from Hanoi's swankiest Hotel, Sofitel Metropole. The crust was so tender and buttery, it reignited my quest for the perfect tart and pie crust . . . There is so much contention and passion surrounding the topic --
What's the secret to your crust?
Also, the ganache filling was bursting with cocoa velvet-smooth luxury -- each bite a winning example of textural and taste contrasts. Superb! Perfect pastry, mango desserts -- they both awaken my senses and take me to my happy place.
In Vietnam, almost everyone drives a moped and wears a helmet. This is quite different than India where you'd see tons of people on their scooter or motorcycle and their helmet dangling on the handlebars, not atop their head! It seems here they see their helmet as another fashion accessory -- to be flaunted and customized -- there's an endless quantity of choices. I want one just for bicycle-riding in Portland!
So far, this is our favorite style (helmet comes with aviator goggles) -- Is my husband not a total looker with fabulous taste? I think so.
(a man and woman work together to prepare the fluffy donuts -- he rolls and prepares dough, she stirs donuts in oil with exceptionally long chopsticks)
One of my favorite places to eat is on the street. In foreign lands and at home, in Portland's bezerk food cart scene -- there's just something really soulful and satisfying about eating something you can watch be cooked, usually over a high heat, and handed to you on a paper plate or in a napkin. Street food is cheap, delicious and often much safer than eating in a fancy hotel, where ingredients may have been lying around for hours, perhaps getting funky (not fun for the traveler's belly). So when Dave and I stopped and watched this team make simple sesame donuts, (we were entranced) and thought to get one and "eat just a bite." Little bites turned into big bites and then we ate the whole thing because it was perfect. It made me create a new rule -- fried foods are only to be eaten fresh off the fryer. This donut was so far from a dough ball sitting in a pink box (I'm still enamored with those pretty pink bakery boxes though) at an office room, I swore I'd never eat a tired, sad limp fried good again. These street donuts were hardly sweet, with a light sesame flavor, a steaming interior and perfect ratio of golden crust to pillowy insides. It was sesame donut bliss for sure!
The dragon FRUIT that is! Visually, this sublime piece of pink, white and black art may trump all others . . . The flavor is pretty good -- sort of a cross between a kiwi and mellow melon. It lacks the sweet tang I so enjoy in most tropical fruits, such as the mango or the pineapple, but I've never seen such an extraordinary thing before coming to Vietnam. The dragon fruit is common eating here (yummy) and for bringing to the pagoda, as an offering to Buddha, a goddess or an ancestor. I know you are probably sick of hearing of fruits by now, but I'm totally obsessed and can't help myself. The produce in Vietnam is very delicious and meticulously displayed -- a wonderful array of new tastes for D and I. Hurrah!
There's been a whole lot of this game for us the past few days -- It's raining and cold in Hue. We are a bit tired from life on the road . . . Not all days are fun and spectacular. I'm always grateful to have my crazy travel buddy, D, though. Trouble is, lately he's been whoopin' me at Dominoes--I'm going to have to retaliate later on today over a cup of '3 in 1' coffee (strangely delicious coffee/hot cocoa-like substance with sugar and creamer included in the concoction). What do you do to fend off the blues when traveling?
(a 1-foot tall iridescent goddess in the cave greets you as you enter)
Marble Mountain, about 6 miles south of Da Nang, is a Buddhist cave complex. It is full of nooks and crannies, small shrines, magical light, musty damp smells, incense and sacred energy. D and I took "xe oms," motorbike taxis to get there -- a swell drive along the beach. The coastal air and heat reminded me so much of a summer's day in Santa Barbara . . . Weird to be on the other side of the world with the exact weather conditions of mid-August, memories as a teenager spent lazily working on my tan on the shores of the Pacific Ocean swirling by.
(a small shrine glimmers in dappled light)
One of my favorite parts of being in a Buddhist or Chinese Temple is all the tiny altars people create along with their prayers. A variety of items -- fruit, papers, incense, flowers, candles, photos, and figurines -- are placed ever-so-carefully into a tender arrangement. The conglomeration of stuff is so purposeful, humble and beautiful. It always inspires me to arrange my own items, even if they are just travel things (suitcase, pajamas, snacks), with a little more care.
(the 'lucky buddha' stands alone in a large cave -- he was about 12 feet tall and very peaceful)
The Lucky Buddha was really big and special. He stood grounded in the damp and mossy cave, although his presence was very cosmic and other-worldly. The whole place and climbing through the caves and taking in the sea-views was just superb -- a must if passing through Central Vietnam.
(a woman jogs in her full salwar suit at the Panjim Gymkhana in Panjim, Goa, India)
"You are from?" the Indian guy at the chai stand queries Dave, a question he's fielded for the umpteenth time.
"USA," replies Dave.
"Obama!"
"Obama!" Dave repeats.
"What you do in the US?"
"I'm a sign maker -- I work on computers. My wife is a teacher."
"Yes, I'm a teacher," I edge in.
"How many days in India?" . . .
(ladies eat breakfast at a street-side cafe in Da Nang, Vietnam)
The conversation continues -- again, I have to eek out my voice in the exchange. Most of the time, only my husband is addressed. Occasionally, this focus on him is a pleasure-- I'm tired, travel-weary, sick of answering the same questions over and over . . . But more often than not, I'm fed up with being second fiddle and I force my way into the conversation, asking about this man's family and wife and what does she do? What's her name? Where is she?
That's the big question I found on my mind after being in India for four months, where are the ladies at? I realized that our company was almost always male --
No women drivers, waiters, shop-keepers (5 men sold me a bra out of a box, making recommendations all the while), chai vendors, tut tut drivers, cab drivers, train workers, porters, cooks, dobi wallas (clothes washing men), doctors, budget-hotel staff, bus drivers, etc . . . Yes, women appear in markets, travel agencies, upscale hotels, teachers . . . But being budget-travelers, our interactions with women were very limited in India. As shown in the beginning dialogue, my husband, was almost always addressed before I was -- and even then, I had to work my way into most conversations -- literally straining to contribute my voice.
(a young woman serves banh my--Vietnamese sandwiches-- at a new year's celebration in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam)
From what I observed, the interaction and relations between sexes was also a completely different dynamic than my Western way of thinking-- keeping each sex very separated and women keeping much more to themselves, rarely could I strike up a chat on the bus or in the market with and Indian lady-- what are we thinking about each other? I would ponder this while on the bus . . . and try to bridge the gap by offering a cookie or candy from my purse. Mostly, what I got back was a side to side nod and "no" and a small smile.
The rules at the public pool in Panjim, Goa highlighted some cultural differences in regards to sex -- men required to wear speedos, women a sporty one piece -- which was interpreted as 1920's style- unitard bathing suit. While at the beach, Indian ladies just wear their clothes (saris, salwaar suit, T-shirt and jeans --whatever they had on) in the water. Or if a woman exercised at the track, she might appear in a full sari or salwaar suit -- my tank top and shorts a stark contrast in flesh exposure. Even then, running a few times per week at the track, i think I saw a lady there twice.
"Love marriage or arranged marriage?" Many giggles and interest over my "love marriage" response. In India, love is grown into, a decision made by families, not two young people who have lived together for 3 1/2 years and decided to commit to each other, as Dave and I have . . A strange idea to me, that my life could be promised to me by my parents --especially considering our marriage is so young and fresh. I struggle with this idea, yet am careful to remind myself there are many other countries where women's choice in clothing, husband and lifestyle are MUCH more restricted than in India.
The Subcontinent -- a land of ladies exuding sensuality, color and the scent of jasmine perfuming the air from the flowers in their hair . . . tied up in a bun or braid of deliciously long hair -- how i want to see it down, blowing in the hot wind as they breeze by on the back of their man's scooter.
(a banana seller in Old Goa, Goa, India--photo by Stephanie Kilpatrick, my sister-in-law)
Being in a new country, Vietnam, pronounces the contrasts of India that much more -- to see women in skin tight short-shorts, low-cut tank tops, thigh-highs, sky-high heels, hair down in an array of styles-- most apparent, skin!!! is a revelation. . . . Laughter, commingling of the sexes over beers, dating -- points to the fact that Indian culture, when out of the major cities, excludes pre-marital dating almost entirely. For the most part, men are at bars. If there are men and women inter-mixing, it's within the family context, intergenerational with grand parents and children at a restaurant. Much rarer to see young couples together, even rarer to see physical affection outside of Mumbai, Delhi or Bangalore... I longed to see an old couple cuddling a bit or a young couple's flirtation. Perhaps my concept of Women's Liberation applies differently here? Does dating make a woman's life complete? Is wearing spaghetti straps a sin? What about the section of middle that the saried-ladies reveal? I so wish I had the opportunity to interact with more Indian women.
(young woman stops by the market on her moped in Ho Chi Minh City)
My father's words echo in my mind -- "it's not weird, it's different." But I find the differences in Vietnam to be more friendly -- where women swiftly package our strawberry shortcake, rent us a bicycle, chat with their girlfriend over a bowl of pho, giggle with boyfriends at a neighborhood bar, sell me a sim card out of her purse on the street, sell us our plane ticket, seat us at a fancy hotel for lunch, usher me into a museum, drive mopeds, wear high heels and shorts, sell waffles and books and knick knacks on the street, smile and wave to me at the markets, tailor our clothes, browse the bookstores; the women here are out in full force . . . I'm happy to chat with our host's neighbor, who invited me to talk on her bench outside her home and tell me all about her favorite places in Vietnam and her job and family - -- this is an event that happened on day 3 here! A casual conversation and interaction that was so powerful and beautiful to me -- and never occurred in the 4 months of living in India.
At the core of the story is a woman's independence -- the ability or the will of a woman to take her girlfriends out and have a good time, do things away from the men in their family just for the sheer fun of it. This is a site I love to see, breathe in and feel with all my heart.
(the author in traditional Indian house dress, Goa, India)
We have been to many Chinese Pagodas in HCM, they are so beautiful with their cloud of incense and atmosphere (a whole other post waiting to happen) . . . And, we've been in a few churches -- perfectly maintained and painted in eggshell pinks, blues and greens. We caught the first few moments of mass at this particular church and the space was so lofty and pretty -- light streaming through and people praying. My favorite part of the church, however, was the garland outside. Got to love that sense of decor and festive vibe.
(Dinh's Aunt cleans the different types of mushroom, or fungus as they are referred to here... She also has amazing hands and is wearing a gorgeous top.)
We have been in Ho Chi Minh City for about a week now and have had a GLORIOUS time so far. In fact, we are very sad to leave this city of pagodas, mopeds, art, history and energy. Everyday we find a new market, exotic fruit (definitely a rival to India's fruit wonders), pagoda, shrine, coffee shop, French building, elaborate topiary and foot massage parlor. It is easy to fall in love with this place -- it's sprawl, people, romance and sunsets.
The food is a revelation in flavor, temperature and texture -- we've had so many things I've never had or even heard of before -- it's a delight! Being in hot hot India, we ate so much hot food -- heavy with ghee and tastiness . . . But here, the dishes come hot or room temperature with an array of fresh herbs and vegetables to add to your own bowl to your liking -- I love the crunch, the spice and the refreshing nature of the cuisine so far. The only downer is it is pretty difficult to find vegetarian food and we were so spoiled with the 'veg' situation in India...
One of the best experiences we've had so far has been cooking alongside our host's Aunt. She speaks a clucky, grandmotherly sing song Vietnamese (no English except to tell me "you're number one" as I did the dishes) and I had the pleasure of spending the morning at her side, assisting in the chopping/cleaning and general preparation of an elaborate lunch. Despite the language barrier, I learned so much from her. Further proof that food has no language -- everyone can engage, enjoy, feast and laugh in the kitchen.
(from left to right: onion flowers soak in the sink before being trimmed to stir-fry, soy skins sit in a bag, awaiting to be crackled in hot oil -- kinda like vegetarian pork rinds -- the "snow fungus" and "cat ear fungus" sit in water to cleanse any dirt -- they remind me of jellyfish or a sea creature as I chop them for our lunch, kinh gioi {I think this is what it's called} is a common herb in spring rolls and served with pho and bun -- I pluck the leaves and they sit in the big blue strainer.)
My notes are scattered and more free-form to give a concrete recipe for what we ate -- but the thing I observed the most from this style of cooking is that it's all about simple preparation of a variety of ingredients (mushrooms, tofu, herbs, rice, a few other vegetables, etc.) and then each dish is tossed together at the last moment with just a few additional flavors. There weren't very many dry spices -- just a little stock mix and sugar -- as I observed, but the fish sauce, water and fresh garlic cloves were in just about everything. This last minute assembly continues further to the table, where everyone is given a small bowl and a variety of condiments to doctor up the dishes a bit more, as you see fit. I love this custom -- sometimes I love a lot of spice, salt and sauce and occasionally, a mellow, unadorned vegetable and rice is perfection.
(fried tofu blocks and soy skins await their final stop in the spring roll.)
(Aunty fries tofu with long chopsticks and a little dance, away from the pan, as the oil spits deliciousness.)
(We dine on a former Embassy table about 12 feet long!)
The meal ended up being more of an epic poem than anything else -- straight from a scroll in the early 20th century pagodas we've been hanging out in . . . Tofu spring rolls (mine are short and stubby, Dinh's {our host} long and elegant -- I'm still a grasshopper in my rolling abilities) with peanut sauce, gourd and snow fungus soup, white rice, tofu, cat ear fungus, soy skin/crackle and mushroom stir fry and quick-sauteed chive flowers . . . For dessert, "to cleanse our palates" as Dinh said, the sweetest and smallest tangerines I've ever eaten. It was the perfect lunch and education. It was all so wonderful and sensoral, I promptly got into bed and took a two hour nap. I was completely blissed out.
