It was a relief to get out of way-too-hot Delhi and head for the hills. The day before yesterday we rode the night train from Old Delhi Railway Station for Kathgodam, a journey of about seven hours. It was a pretty good introduction to the Indian trains for Jess - no journey in India is complete without one. We went in high style, with a 2-up a/c sleeper berth that we shared with two travelers from Poland, of all places. The trains in India are a whole world unto themselves - the stations are invariably packed with people, many of whom actually live in the station. The dark cavernous spaces of the station building just seem like chaos, but with repeated inquires we found our way to the right platform, and soon the great, hissing, screeching train pulled in, we found our carriage and berth, and settled in for the journey. Both of us fell asleep to the gentle swaying and bouncing of the train, and some good tunes on our ipods.
Arrived early morning in Kathgodam, and getting off the train we were in another world - cool breezes and forested hills. After a couple of cups of roadside chai, hired a jeep for Almora, a 'hill station' that dates from the British Raj, when the colonists built places in the hills to escape from heat of the plains in summer. Our driver and his assistant were the exceptions to the great people we've met so far; aside from the driving - questionable even by Indian standards - they wanted to pick up more people along the way and charge them, and play music at ear-splitting volume despite being repeatedly told to turn it down or off. I'd be willing to put up with this if I was on a bus, but we had hired the whole vehicle, and I felt fairly justified in calling the tune. Anyway, we arrived intact and were happy to see the end of them.
Almora's a beautiful place, and we wandered for a while with our fully loaded backpacks. The hills are high - they'd be called mountains anywhere else if they weren't next to the Himalayas, and terraced for growing crops. The Himalayas are supposed to be visible from town, although so far we haven't been able to see them for clouds and haze. We sat for a while along a little lane, laughing with all of the cute schoolkids coming home from school. Most seemed to be about six to ten years old, and they were delightfully curious and cheerful. We took pictures, showed them, laughed, took more pictures. When an older gentleman came along, we asked for directions to a hotel, and he walked us to the market street part of the town and showed us to a clean, comfortable little hotel called the Him Tower. Mr. B.K. Loney (sp?) was a retired school principal that had gone to pick up his eight-year-old son from school. He was an excellent guide, but unfortunately by the time we reached the hotel, I was not feeling at all well - stomach cramps and extreme fatigue that was the beginning of a bout of a diarrhea, and worse, Jess was soon down with the same thing a few hours later. We both felt barely well enough to go out to a little restaurant for an excellent thali with Mr. Loney in the evening, but this morning were both completely down and spent most of the day sleeping and reading. By early evening I was feeling quite a bit better, but Jess was still down, so I've found my way to a tiny internet cafe to do this post.
This cafe is on Almora's amazing market street; notable for the fact that all vehicles are barred from entering it, making it a very pleasant walk. The road itself seems to be surfaced in polished slate or some other stone, and it is packed with shops and food stalls of every description for its entire length, which must be about a mile. None of the hassles that you find in Delhi markets where everybody is trying to sell you something, and a really impressive range of fruits and vegetables. There's more of interest going on in a hundred yards of this lane than your average Canadian town. This internet cafe has half a dozen terminals packed into a cramped, fluorescent-lit little room, and all of them are in use by what appear to be high-school age boys, either messaging their friends or checking out schools, from what I can tell eavesdropping over their shoulders. If it weren't for the distinct smell of kerosene in here, it would be a great little place.
We originally were thinking of heading up to one of a number of places above Almora for a better view of the Himalaya, but we're now thinking that stomachs, buses, and banks willing, tomorrow we'll either jump a bus or a jeep for Munsiari, a ride of about six or seven hours. From there we hope to hire a guide and a couple of porters for the walk up to Milam. Time now to head back to the hotel and see if Jess is up for a bit of food...
Friday, May 18, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Holy cows and hot dogs
When we first arrived it was in the late evening, as to what time exactly there was some confusion. JAL announced a local time that was an hour and 15 minutes earlier than the actual time. Once settled in our hotel we set out to find some food, and ate a great dinner. Books and friends and Brian had prepared me for a first impression that would be intense, so it wasn't so hard...but still intense nonetheless.
A smorgasbord of smells, from delicious and appealing, to fragrant incense, jasmine and other florals, to totally vile. You quickly figure out when it would be wise to breathe through your mouth. There were people sleeping everywhere, right next to traffic. To what extent this is the reality for many urban Indians hadn't really sunk in, despite the fact that I knew it already.
The streets are barely lit at night, and we were exhausted. The next day it was much more friendly, and what seemed ominous at night was a busy market bazaar of textiles and jewelry and endless appealing crap that tourists want to buy, and food stands everywhere.
There really are holy cows and hot dogs everywhere. Bored, docile cows wander about, completely unconcerned with the very fast traffic around them. Very cool and confident packs of dogs are everywhere, that same mix of mutt that you see all over latin America. They know better than to come near you, and I constantly want to pet them, but...uh, no. bad idea.
Our hotel is tucked on a gated side street off a very busy thoroughfare, behind several buildings and trees, next to a hospital. It's slightly off the beaten path and thus blessedly quiet. A good transition into India after Japan.
The air quality is tough...the sky is always grey, but in the early morning there is more blue. By early evening it's a solid smog grey. We can't wait to hit the mountains.
I love it all. I love the people. Despite being often annoyed and impatient with the relentless hustle to buy stuff you have to admire such tenacity. The street urchins are adorable. They're very skilled manipulators, and their huge eyes and charming smiles make me melt, they totally work me hard because they can smell my softness for them.
At dinner last night on a rooftop terrace we watched kids on roofs all around us flying kites, it was really cool.
There are mini temples everywhere, and deities everywhere you look. Delhi is crumbling, but it's beautiful.
Crossing the street is terrifying, but I'm getting the hang of it. The psycho auto rickshaws are really fun to ride, they're fast and the drivers are fearless. They run on compressed natural gas! How cool is that?! The women perched sidesaddle on the backs of scooters are brilliant flashes of color as their saris fly by in traffic.
This morning I was up at 6:30 and had a little yoga practice in the privacy of a back terrace, I needed to stretch.
Brian is an awesome travel companion. We seem to be on the same wavelength most of the time, and he's patient when I'm a total newbie at travel in India. We're enjoying each others company a lot.
Shortly we're going to find some lunch. I'm fantasizing about the same dosas from Dosa Please! that we had yesterday. I love the food of course...no disappointments there. To state the obvious, they've really mastered breads here...amazing textures. And to state the obvious again, the tea is fantastic. Black as coffee, strong enough to stand up a spoon in, exactly how I like it.
A smorgasbord of smells, from delicious and appealing, to fragrant incense, jasmine and other florals, to totally vile. You quickly figure out when it would be wise to breathe through your mouth. There were people sleeping everywhere, right next to traffic. To what extent this is the reality for many urban Indians hadn't really sunk in, despite the fact that I knew it already.
The streets are barely lit at night, and we were exhausted. The next day it was much more friendly, and what seemed ominous at night was a busy market bazaar of textiles and jewelry and endless appealing crap that tourists want to buy, and food stands everywhere.
There really are holy cows and hot dogs everywhere. Bored, docile cows wander about, completely unconcerned with the very fast traffic around them. Very cool and confident packs of dogs are everywhere, that same mix of mutt that you see all over latin America. They know better than to come near you, and I constantly want to pet them, but...uh, no. bad idea.
Our hotel is tucked on a gated side street off a very busy thoroughfare, behind several buildings and trees, next to a hospital. It's slightly off the beaten path and thus blessedly quiet. A good transition into India after Japan.
The air quality is tough...the sky is always grey, but in the early morning there is more blue. By early evening it's a solid smog grey. We can't wait to hit the mountains.
I love it all. I love the people. Despite being often annoyed and impatient with the relentless hustle to buy stuff you have to admire such tenacity. The street urchins are adorable. They're very skilled manipulators, and their huge eyes and charming smiles make me melt, they totally work me hard because they can smell my softness for them.
At dinner last night on a rooftop terrace we watched kids on roofs all around us flying kites, it was really cool.
There are mini temples everywhere, and deities everywhere you look. Delhi is crumbling, but it's beautiful.
Crossing the street is terrifying, but I'm getting the hang of it. The psycho auto rickshaws are really fun to ride, they're fast and the drivers are fearless. They run on compressed natural gas! How cool is that?! The women perched sidesaddle on the backs of scooters are brilliant flashes of color as their saris fly by in traffic.
This morning I was up at 6:30 and had a little yoga practice in the privacy of a back terrace, I needed to stretch.
Brian is an awesome travel companion. We seem to be on the same wavelength most of the time, and he's patient when I'm a total newbie at travel in India. We're enjoying each others company a lot.
Shortly we're going to find some lunch. I'm fantasizing about the same dosas from Dosa Please! that we had yesterday. I love the food of course...no disappointments there. To state the obvious, they've really mastered breads here...amazing textures. And to state the obvious again, the tea is fantastic. Black as coffee, strong enough to stand up a spoon in, exactly how I like it.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Tsukiji fish market
Tokyo has been a total blast and I've had some unforgettable experiences.
Went to the very first sushi bar that Brian ever ate at, and ate often at, in his first neighborhood in Tokyo 30 years ago. To our delight and surprise he was well and affectionately remembered, and they took excellent care of us. Their modest little neighborhood place seats 1o, and at a squeeze. Husband and wife care for their guests with attention and perfectionism and it was amazing, Brian, Kako and I ate very well. Another surprise - their son went off to Montreal to make sushi, and worked for several years under the very respected Junichi at Soto Montreal in its prime, in the late 90s. His mother was so surprised that I knew this restaurant well that they got him on the phone and we had a conversation. We ate a truly gorgeous spread, including lots of fish I'd never had the occasion to try.
One that I loved were these tiny little glass minnows. About two inches long, but only about a centimeter and a half wide, served whole. Colorless and truly transparent as glass, save for the black and white spot of eye. In a tiny bowl of shaved daikon wit h some grated ginger and green onions. I took a fantastic picture of these with my camera on macro and will post it when I'm home, they're beautiful. Sweet, not even remotely fishy, slippery and cool, with a little pop of salty jelly when you chew them, somehow you could call them refreshing. I was later told that they're somewhat rare.
I'm trying all the fish and "challenging" seafood presented to me in sashimi form...I've loved it all.
Yesterday we got up super early and we stumbled out the door by 6:30 with a sizeable sake hangover to hit Tsukiji, the world famous fish market. I had high expectations for Tsukiji, but it far surpassed them. A few years ago we would have been there for about 6am to watch the maguro auctions, but due to an oppressive number of tourists these are now closed to the public, you must be a participant to get in. The wholesale market is still astounding. Brian's fluent Japanese got us some treats from a lot of vendors who would otherwise have dismissed us as yet more gaijin gawkers. Imagine a city within a city, there are alleys and "streets" within a giant warehouse. Look it up on Wiki...it's insane. The wholesale market was still very busy when we arrived at 8, and you have to be constantly on your most alert to not be in the way of zooming flatbed trucks of fish and people with enormous knives.
At one point we were watching some guys sectioning a whole red tuna loin, blood red, about as long as my l eg...we were rapt, and it was simultaneously happening in easily 300 other vending stations around us. Understand that this is kind of like porn to me. We were salivating at the fish when an older man who appeared to be the owner of that particular vending booth, supervising it all walked over to us and handed us a huge hunk about the size of a small honeydew melon. Scrap, but full of good stuff to eat. Perhaps they were trying to shock us, see our reaction...and totally laughed enthusiastically when we shrieked and started tearing hunks of it off and eating it with our bare hands. Then they brought over a tiny little plastic bottle of soy sauce, and some wet wipes for our fishy hands, and a foil wrapped ball of rice that was clearly from their own breakfast. We all beamed at each other and we loved every minute of it. Beyond delicious. There are photos of this.
The men. Some seriously beautiful men. I find someone wielding a big knife with total confidence sexy. So take a beautiful young Japanese man, sleeves rolled up, strong forearms wielding an enormous knife with total kinetic ease, speed and calm, gliding through an enormous loin of tuna... HOT. It requires total mindfulness, these knives were the length of my arm. By the way, I noticed they were mostly carbon steel knives, not stainless. Anyway, can a fishmonger covered in a thin film of fish blood be sexy? Absolutely. Feed me raw fish with your bare hands and I'm all yours.
Watched someone reach his bare arm into a pen of live snapping eels and confidently g rab one behind its head and pull it out. It was about three feet longing and furious. He efficiently held it firm to a cutting board and made a cut through its spine, killing it instantly. It was wild, the snapping jaws were rather scary. There are photos o f this as well.
The market didn't smell like fish at all, by the way. It smelled like the ocean. Japan catches so much fish that 1/3 of the worlds commercially traded seafood passes through this market. As Brian pointed out, the world could not sustain 2 Japans. It's debatable whether it can even sustain one, really.
After Tsukiji we went out to the beach at Hayama and had a fantastic lunch with Gan and Hide, old friends of Brian and Rumi, and a totally serene stroll through their rice paddy on a piece of land not far from their home. Such nice people, I really enjoyed the visit.
Fantastic lunch, superlative fish. The only one that was a bit intense was the tiny firefly squid about an inch long, raw, sitting in a little bowl of murky sludge that is essentially black ink and squid guts. Like a dark shadow of concentrated ocean, like seawater x10, plus a taste of shadows and depth, the way only an animal with the capacity to survive in dark depth can have, with a bizarre slippery sleekness that's hard to chew and just wants to slide down your throat unchewed. Yeah, that was weird.
Oh! and I just got news that my sister found us a place. Commercial drive and 3rd, top floor of a house. Hardwood floors, big bedrooms. Slightly more than we wanted to spend but she loves it and thinks I will as well. I gave her total executive control on the choice of a place for us and I'm certain it'll be great.
Went to the very first sushi bar that Brian ever ate at, and ate often at, in his first neighborhood in Tokyo 30 years ago. To our delight and surprise he was well and affectionately remembered, and they took excellent care of us. Their modest little neighborhood place seats 1o, and at a squeeze. Husband and wife care for their guests with attention and perfectionism and it was amazing, Brian, Kako and I ate very well. Another surprise - their son went off to Montreal to make sushi, and worked for several years under the very respected Junichi at Soto Montreal in its prime, in the late 90s. His mother was so surprised that I knew this restaurant well that they got him on the phone and we had a conversation. We ate a truly gorgeous spread, including lots of fish I'd never had the occasion to try.
One that I loved were these tiny little glass minnows. About two inches long, but only about a centimeter and a half wide, served whole. Colorless and truly transparent as glass, save for the black and white spot of eye. In a tiny bowl of shaved daikon wit h some grated ginger and green onions. I took a fantastic picture of these with my camera on macro and will post it when I'm home, they're beautiful. Sweet, not even remotely fishy, slippery and cool, with a little pop of salty jelly when you chew them, somehow you could call them refreshing. I was later told that they're somewhat rare.
I'm trying all the fish and "challenging" seafood presented to me in sashimi form...I've loved it all.
Yesterday we got up super early and we stumbled out the door by 6:30 with a sizeable sake hangover to hit Tsukiji, the world famous fish market. I had high expectations for Tsukiji, but it far surpassed them. A few years ago we would have been there for about 6am to watch the maguro auctions, but due to an oppressive number of tourists these are now closed to the public, you must be a participant to get in. The wholesale market is still astounding. Brian's fluent Japanese got us some treats from a lot of vendors who would otherwise have dismissed us as yet more gaijin gawkers. Imagine a city within a city, there are alleys and "streets" within a giant warehouse. Look it up on Wiki...it's insane. The wholesale market was still very busy when we arrived at 8, and you have to be constantly on your most alert to not be in the way of zooming flatbed trucks of fish and people with enormous knives.
At one point we were watching some guys sectioning a whole red tuna loin, blood red, about as long as my l eg...we were rapt, and it was simultaneously happening in easily 300 other vending stations around us. Understand that this is kind of like porn to me. We were salivating at the fish when an older man who appeared to be the owner of that particular vending booth, supervising it all walked over to us and handed us a huge hunk about the size of a small honeydew melon. Scrap, but full of good stuff to eat. Perhaps they were trying to shock us, see our reaction...and totally laughed enthusiastically when we shrieked and started tearing hunks of it off and eating it with our bare hands. Then they brought over a tiny little plastic bottle of soy sauce, and some wet wipes for our fishy hands, and a foil wrapped ball of rice that was clearly from their own breakfast. We all beamed at each other and we loved every minute of it. Beyond delicious. There are photos of this.
The men. Some seriously beautiful men. I find someone wielding a big knife with total confidence sexy. So take a beautiful young Japanese man, sleeves rolled up, strong forearms wielding an enormous knife with total kinetic ease, speed and calm, gliding through an enormous loin of tuna... HOT. It requires total mindfulness, these knives were the length of my arm. By the way, I noticed they were mostly carbon steel knives, not stainless. Anyway, can a fishmonger covered in a thin film of fish blood be sexy? Absolutely. Feed me raw fish with your bare hands and I'm all yours.
Watched someone reach his bare arm into a pen of live snapping eels and confidently g rab one behind its head and pull it out. It was about three feet longing and furious. He efficiently held it firm to a cutting board and made a cut through its spine, killing it instantly. It was wild, the snapping jaws were rather scary. There are photos o f this as well.
The market didn't smell like fish at all, by the way. It smelled like the ocean. Japan catches so much fish that 1/3 of the worlds commercially traded seafood passes through this market. As Brian pointed out, the world could not sustain 2 Japans. It's debatable whether it can even sustain one, really.
After Tsukiji we went out to the beach at Hayama and had a fantastic lunch with Gan and Hide, old friends of Brian and Rumi, and a totally serene stroll through their rice paddy on a piece of land not far from their home. Such nice people, I really enjoyed the visit.
Fantastic lunch, superlative fish. The only one that was a bit intense was the tiny firefly squid about an inch long, raw, sitting in a little bowl of murky sludge that is essentially black ink and squid guts. Like a dark shadow of concentrated ocean, like seawater x10, plus a taste of shadows and depth, the way only an animal with the capacity to survive in dark depth can have, with a bizarre slippery sleekness that's hard to chew and just wants to slide down your throat unchewed. Yeah, that was weird.
Oh! and I just got news that my sister found us a place. Commercial drive and 3rd, top floor of a house. Hardwood floors, big bedrooms. Slightly more than we wanted to spend but she loves it and thinks I will as well. I gave her total executive control on the choice of a place for us and I'm certain it'll be great.
old news from Tokyo
While I have countless Japanese friends, it's an entirely different perspective being here. People are gentle, welcoming and elegant. In the subway I experiment, smiling at the business people, both men and women in their suits to vsee who will smile back. Children are not shy here and seem to smile and interact with us gaijin very readily. The city is immaculate, there is NO litter anywhere, and all the subway trains and stations are gleaming. Everyone smokes, which is odd. There are gingko trees everywhere.
Off George's balcony I just saw a Japanese raven, which was terrifying. Like a huuuuuge crow, about the size of Canadian hawk with a very long mean-looking beak. Apparently they attack schoolchildren occasionally! The air quality is far better than I expected, but it's been quite breezy. The subway system is baffling. NY's is as well, however it feels learnable...this is about 4x as complicated and even George and Brian need to pay attention to what they're doing lest you step on the wrongtrain.
Our first night, straight off the plane we went looking for food before we even came to George's. We chose a vibrant smoky pub of snackfood and warm people relaxing after their work day. mostly in my age group, the place was a little grungy but incredibly inviting..all the cooks and service staff (they were 5 in total) interchanged roles, stepping behind the grills, accepting payment or carrying out food from the entirely open kitchen that was barely big enough to turn around in. The seating capacity was maybe 25 in this place, and the friendliness was awesome. There was a long communal table of people facing each other.
They specialized in pork, and especially the nasty bits. I had a major sense of adventure and tried all sorts of unmentionables and was surprised at the deliciousness despite the unappealing squiggly appearance, if you get my drift. As we didn't know what to order, we would point at other people's food that looked good, and they inisted we try theirs to see if we liked it. To my total shock I loved it all, the stomach, esophagus, heart and everything, when I always though I couldn't handle those textures. We drank a lot of beer and shared our food with tablemates as well. Made some friends with a couple a few years younger than me and had a fantastic broken conversation, about our lives and music, mostly. He used to be a sake maker and now rolls soba for a living and we bonded about long physical work. There was something familiar about them we liked each other a lot. She was fearless and unselfconscious with her terrible english and I admired her for it. She was beautiful and unusually tall, with a tongue piercing. We talked music and had a blast and eventually had the brilliant idea to trade ipods to explore each others music for a bit. We had a lot of the same music in there! as we got drunker the place got crazier and crazier. There are some photos... We staggered home and felt asleep almost immediately. It was great to see George.
Walked all day yesterday, saw a lot of cool stuff, had a great lunch. I went to an Iyengar class with George, it felt fantastic. I really needed it. Left the galaxy in savasana. The class was taught bilingually by an indian woman. Now it's early afternoon and we're chilling.
Off George's balcony I just saw a Japanese raven, which was terrifying. Like a huuuuuge crow, about the size of Canadian hawk with a very long mean-looking beak. Apparently they attack schoolchildren occasionally! The air quality is far better than I expected, but it's been quite breezy. The subway system is baffling. NY's is as well, however it feels learnable...this is about 4x as complicated and even George and Brian need to pay attention to what they're doing lest you step on the wrongtrain.
Our first night, straight off the plane we went looking for food before we even came to George's. We chose a vibrant smoky pub of snackfood and warm people relaxing after their work day. mostly in my age group, the place was a little grungy but incredibly inviting..all the cooks and service staff (they were 5 in total) interchanged roles, stepping behind the grills, accepting payment or carrying out food from the entirely open kitchen that was barely big enough to turn around in. The seating capacity was maybe 25 in this place, and the friendliness was awesome. There was a long communal table of people facing each other.
They specialized in pork, and especially the nasty bits. I had a major sense of adventure and tried all sorts of unmentionables and was surprised at the deliciousness despite the unappealing squiggly appearance, if you get my drift. As we didn't know what to order, we would point at other people's food that looked good, and they inisted we try theirs to see if we liked it. To my total shock I loved it all, the stomach, esophagus, heart and everything, when I always though I couldn't handle those textures. We drank a lot of beer and shared our food with tablemates as well. Made some friends with a couple a few years younger than me and had a fantastic broken conversation, about our lives and music, mostly. He used to be a sake maker and now rolls soba for a living and we bonded about long physical work. There was something familiar about them we liked each other a lot. She was fearless and unselfconscious with her terrible english and I admired her for it. She was beautiful and unusually tall, with a tongue piercing. We talked music and had a blast and eventually had the brilliant idea to trade ipods to explore each others music for a bit. We had a lot of the same music in there! as we got drunker the place got crazier and crazier. There are some photos... We staggered home and felt asleep almost immediately. It was great to see George.
Walked all day yesterday, saw a lot of cool stuff, had a great lunch. I went to an Iyengar class with George, it felt fantastic. I really needed it. Left the galaxy in savasana. The class was taught bilingually by an indian woman. Now it's early afternoon and we're chilling.
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