An Asian (and Epicurean) Odyssey
 

Prelude
The genesis for this (largely epicurean) odyssey lies entirely with our talented high school-aged DD, a violinist who successfully auditioned for this year’s international schools honor orchestra. The competition is fierce; more than 500 students vie for 150 chairs. Each year the event rotates between European, Asian, and Middle Eastern schools for the concert location. We have been to Doha and to Luxembourg for previous performances; this year the host was the Singapore American School.

Only once DD received the happy news could the flurry of travel planning commence, naturally. At first the trip was to be only Singapore. Then friends in Seoul and in Tokyo messaged, “Our guest room is open—we’d love to see you!” DH muttered something about “the office,” but suggested I should carry on to visit our friends since, after all, we would be practically next door. DH is wise like that.

What began as just a few days in Singapore evolved into a total of 16 spectacular sightseeing days, with weather ranging from 32°C in Singapore to 0°C (and snow) in Seoul to 22°C weather in Japan. (Packing for such an adventure is not for mere mortals, I must write.) And…cherry blossoms! In one of several serendipitous moments on this holiday, Tokyo’s cherry blossoms were near peak! But more on the Ohanami and everything else later…

Statistics and Logistics
According to SkyTrax I flew through or otherwise spent time in three of the “best” airports in the world: Singapore Changi; Incheon International; and Narita International. I really can not speak much to NRT because the absurdity of the JR office is probably beyond their control (inbound); and I checked in with just enough time to board my flight on the outbound. ICN’s Terminal 1 and Terminal 2 could be separate airports, but for the most part my transit was pleasant, with much beyond shopping to keep one’s brain engaged and one’s tummy satisfied. SIN knows how to treat transit passengers who aren’t certain what time it is or what country they are in. Or maybe it was that since everything was in English so I did not feel so lost in translation.

No mention was made of Dubai International on this list, and rightly so. I did survive my outbound layover in Terminal Purgatory between the hours of 2300 and 0130 and its sea of humanity either sleeping against the walls or pacing like bewildered insomniacs, so take that for what you will. My attempt for respite at the “Food Court” was mostly an exercise in sadness: McDonald’s to the right, “A Taste of India” to the left. Warm Naan and a plastic cup of tamarind chutney, though, pulled me through this darkest hour of my layover. The inbound 3 hours at DXB was a step improved?, I suppose. Terminal Shopping Mall at least kept me busy, and my beloved “Paul” patisserie came through with a chocolate raspberry tarte and gratis people watching.

Carriers
Emirates (A380 and Boeing 777). Exceptional service in Economy; I can only wonder about the service afforded the folks who pay $7,000 for their First Class Suite ticket. Worth-eating meals. 3,000 channels of entertainment and large lavatories you actually don’t mind using. No falcons on either flight to/from Dubai, though. Major disappointment.

Korean Air (A380 and Boeing 777). As with Emirates, exceptional customer service. Outstanding-by-airline-standards meals, too.

Jin Air. KAL’s budget carrier for the two hour skip from ICN to NRT. Hilarious 15kg baggage limit. Impossibly thin cabin crew. Good snacks like the kind one finds in Asian 7-Eleven’s.

So, so much could have gone wrong with the logistics. DD departed three days before we to sightsee before rehearsals began; and DH and I flew separately because he timed his return with DD. I alone had eight flight segments across two separate tickets (VIE-SIN-VIE and SIN-ICN-NRT-SIN), the combination of which is the perfect algorithm for disaster. Yet, nothing at all went awry. Only twice did I even have a passenger seated next to me! I fear I have used all of my good flight chits and am now worried that my standards for flying have been set too high, but thankfully I have an upcoming pond-hop on Delta back to the US in three weeks to readjust my altitude. Pun intended.

Staying Connected
TEP Wireless. The device arrived at my Austrian home two days before travel, and included an addressed envelope for return after my trip. Flawless wireless from the moment I landed in Singapore, and all throughout Seoul and Japan.

Accommodations
Singapore. Hotel Vagabond. Top marks overall; we were upgraded to a terrace suite, and the breeze at night through the open doors felt exotic; until the humidity crept in, that is, and when one of us would wake to shut the doors tightly and turn up the AC. Their guest-only complimentary cocktail and small plate hour each afternoon exceeded expectations: savory dumplings; a not-the-usual cheese board; perfect-portion tiny salads; and chilled wines to take the edge off of a 32°C sightseeing day.

Seoul. Stayed with friends. No complaints, of course. Though, their flat had heated floors that turned the guest room into an easy-bake oven; the key to escaping desiccation each night was to open the window completely, even on the coldest of nights (of which we had numerous) to balance the heat.

Tokyo. Stayed with friends on the 19th floor of their high-rise overlooking Tokyo Bay. Obviously, nothing to complain about.

Singapore Airport. Seven hours in a pod-like hotel, The Haven, between return flights (2350 arrival and 1025 departure). Extraordinarily clean; rain showers; and a cheery little English breakfast of sausage, beans, and toast to inspire me for the final two flights toward home.

In-flight Movies Watched
Victoria and Abdul.
A Passage to India.
The Last Recipe.
Wonder Woman
The Sound of Music. Because I have seen this movie so many, many, many times, I turned it on for white noise while I was sleeping. I fell asleep just after Maria introduced herself to the Butler and then awoke during the end credits. So, technically, I probably played the movie in my subconscious.

Photos snapped: 1592

Kilometers walked: 151

More to follow.

Sounds like a whirlwind visit sprinkled with several highlights. Looking forward to more.

Great start! Looking forward to more.

Singapore. Let the Eating Begin!

Sixteen hours after departing stuck-in-winter’s-grasp Austria, the heat of Singapore greeted me warmly (pun intended), and I was ever so glad that I had worn linen trousers for the flight. Our hotel was an easy and humid half-kilometer from an MRT station, and in good order I was resting in the air-conditioned reception of Hotel Vagabond, a glass of lime juice (Singapore’s magic elixir) in my hand while the clerk was cheerily upgrading us to a terrace suite for no apparent reason at all.

In the room I threw open the colonial-shuttered doors to said terrace, humidity be damned, and sat on the chaise; moments later a couple of Javan mynah birds dropped in on the nearby (lime?) tree and studied on me as I studied on them, each time flitting off whenever I would reach for my camera. The game continued for a bit, but soon it was time for me to meet DH (he was a couple of hours behind me in travel). On my way to the MRT station to fetch him I detoured through a little market (“Buddha Jump Over the Wall” soup spices and white curry paste called to me; the canned “sea asparagus,” not so much) and through my first hawker center, mesmerized by the signs for “Pigs Organ Soup” and the “Halal/Non-Halal” Tray Return stations. We just don’t have this sort of exotic in Vienna.

Once DH had showered and donned lighter clothing we set out to explore our hotel neighborhood and to find some dinner. The streets were lively (“Look Right!”) and the buildings vibrant with color; cyclists coming and going in every direction; and Singaporeans schlumpfing along in their flip-flops (OMGosh do I despise flip-flops outside of beaches and public showers!) In preparing for the Singapore part of the holiday I had absorbed every possible written word on “what to eat,” down to the insipid listicles that wannabe travel bloggers write, and had created a Google Map of places at which we could indulge. Sungei Road Laksa stall was nearest the hotel and was to where we walked only to discover, or forgot to remember, that it was closed on Wednesdays. Ha!

But not to worry, delicious food is always within reach in Singapore. Steps away from Sungei was Mr. Ng’s shop, not at all on my map. Mr. Ng was a “normal Teochew family man” who wanted to make a better life for his family. He met a man from Shan Tou, China, a master of spices, who took him under his wing. Together they opened their noodle shop with its signature chili paste in 1981; and the rest, as the placard read, “is history.” All told we shared Teochew noodles on four occasions, two of which were at Mr. Ng’s shop, perched on plastic stools at a rickety sidewalk table alongside other hungry diners.

It was noodle love at first bite, I am not ashamed to write. Each dry bowl (the spectacular clean broth is served on the side) was brimming with minced pork, paper-thin abalone, shrimp, perfectly spongy fish balls and…those noodles! That chili paste! Smoky, spicy, and altogether the game changer in vaulting Mr. Ng above—dare I write?—Singapore's Michelin one-star Hawker, Hill Street’s Tai Hwa Pork Noodle dish.

Quite pleased with our choice for dinner, we succumbed to our jet lag, cruel mistress that she is, and tumbled into bed for the night.

Great start! And yes, those heated floors can roast you. On the other hand I once encountered air conditioned floors (!) in Serbia, and that was very feeble.

Singapore. Chinatown, a Hindu Temple, and the Night Safari

What wonders a restful night can bestow upon a traveler. My eyes popped open at 0500 or so, and I luxuriated on the terrace with a coffee, scanning news highlights and posting enviable photos on social media to shivering friends in Vienna. The hotel offered a complimentary breakfast we enjoyed on just this first morning of yogurt, fruit, and the horribly dry national toast with strawberry jam, though on the following morning I would beg forgiveness for berating the humble bread when the goodness of Kaya toast touched my lips.

Our morning walk to the MRT station toward Chinatown took us past large signs announcing, “200 km of sheltered walkways by 2018 so we can walk in comfort.” It seems even Singaporeans don’t like their equatorial heat and humidity! Once in the MRT station I laughed aloud at the sign which listed prohibited items and their associated fines: $500 SGD for eating and drinking; $5000 SGD for carrying flammable goods; and so forth. Possessing Durian, though, incurred no fine. You. Just. Don't.

Here in Vienna the buses and U-Bahn have a droning announcement that translates to, “Attention. Other persons may need the seat not less.” But riding along with us on the MRT were the cartoon character signs for GiveWayGlenda (“Giving Way Makes Your Day”); MoveInMartin (“Move in to Fit In”) and their cartoon peers extolling the virtues of public transit etiquette. More entertaining to be sure, but at least we can pop a Doublemint stick in our mouth when we’d like.

Yes, yes, the cheap tchotchke is front and center in Chinatown, but so is all the Klimt-junk here in Vienna. If one takes the time to admire the paper lanterns swaying in the ever-so-slight breeze against a backdrop of colorful shophouses and blue skies, however, a different Chinatown emerges. Somewhere in my travel research I had also uncovered a guide to identifying the architectural styles of the shophouses and that activity combined with our general ramble up and down streets and in and out of stores; skimming menus for amusing translations (“Bamboo Reported Safety” was our favorite) and raising eyebrows and camera lens at the dried-lizards-on-a-stick and other “medicines” for sale at Chinese apothecaries filled the better part of the morning.

We reached the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple while a service was underway, though visitors were still permitted inside. The temple was crowded and so did not feel terribly peaceful, but in general everyone seemed respectful of one another. My full-frame snaps of the interior don’t tell the story nearly as beautifully as my close-ups of the walls and their numbered Buddhas, or the perfectly arranged meter-high orchid plants positioned just so against the backdrop of the gilded entrance hall. Still, visiting was a highlight of our tour through Chinatown.

Leaving the temple we paused for Sweet Corn Ice Cream (I though it an interesting taste; DH held a less favorable impression) on our way to the Chinatown Complex which we dubbed, “The Birthplace of Everything.” Seriously, if this market did not have what you needed, then you simply did not need that item! On the lower level was its wet market with helpful signs directing shoppers to the turtles and eels; eye-poppingly large lobsters the size of small house pets; bowls of artistically displayed Red Snapper heads certainly tempting the discerning Fish Head Curry chef; a Tofu Trader offering more preparations of bean curd than I ever considered possible; a “Flown Chilled Beef” stall (I’m guessing the beef was “flown” over from Australia?); and even…packaged American-style bacon.

Eventually we needed lunch. Tiong Bahru was more than a kilometer from where our steaming selves were standing, about 900 meters more than we felt like walking, so we looked around and spotted a tiny place where the noodles were being made fresh before our eyes, and were ushered to a table big enough for one. The portions mimicked the minimal seating but here the quality of our lunch trumped the quantity: Shrimp Bee Hoon for me; Crispy Pork Belly for DH. Our final tab included a charge for both the unrequested pickled vegetables (at least they tasted good) and for the odd strawberry-scented moist towel. When the entire meal of two entrees, one plate of handmade dumplings and two lime juice totals 16 SGD (~€10), who really concerns themselves with 0.75 SGD for veggies and a fruity hand towel? Likely some of the people visiting…

…the Sri Mariammam Hindu Temple, the oldest of its kind in Singapore. Entrance is without cost, but there is a 1SGD charge to take photos. Believe it or not, there were people who were sneaking photos without paying—in a house of worship. Though the sun’s angle prevented me from taking an iconic snap of the temple tower entrance, I do have crisp and bright, upclose snaps of the colorful interior filled with dieties and cows. Removing one’s shoes is also a requirement to enter the temple; and only those with socked feet (sorry, flip-flop wearers) could endure the firewalk through the courtyard to see the temple in its ornate, detailed, entirety.

The late-afternoon heat and probably some jet lag was weighing on us; and because the Night Safari was on the agenda we decided on a short break back at the hotel before grabbing dinner. We reached the hotel as their guest-only cocktail and small plate hour had begun, and settled in on the comfortable porch settee with hand-made prawn dumplings, tiny salads, and a crisp Chilean Sauvignon Blanc. Other guests, we noted, seemed to be confusing "happy hour" with “dinner.” Each to their own, I suppose.

The Beach Road Scissor Cut Curry Rice dive, another Heritage Hawker, fourth-generation owned and managed by the same family since 1930 was our dinner destination. Absolutely no points would ever be awarded to its lone dish for presentation, but that red melamine plate nearly overflowing with (scissor-cut) chicken curry (more like a gravy) and cabbage (yes, cabbage!) atop a perfectly steamed mound of rice was a gastronomic epiphany. So, so good.

The Night Safari was quite enjoyable! Getting there and back, though, came down to having time, or having money. Our queue to board the little train that travels through the nighttime setting was not long at all; and we had the good luck of seeing nearly every nocturnal animal along the trail (DD reported the following night that the orchestra group saw every animal). The lighting is dreadful for photos; even so, after the tour we wandered down the Fishing Cat trail to spy on the big cats swatting at fish in the pond--too cute. The Bornean fire eaters show was just beginning as we came out of the trail, and we watched in wonder at people who light their kerosene-filled mouth ablaze for a living. All in all, a worthwhile part of our Singapore itinerary.

Finally, jet lag was to blame (isn't it always?) for our ordering a small and expensive nightcap (36SGD for two glasses of wine) to enjoy on the hotel terrace before wrapping up our long and entirely thrilling first full day in Singapore.

Great reading. Sounds as if you were having a really good time in Singapore. I love being in Singapore and it will be 20 years of spending vacation time there at the end of this year. Boy, how it has grown.

Happy Travels!

Singapore: A Five Meal Day and The Grand Finale

The clock was ticking on our final full day and there remained several “Heritage” and self-identified “Really Should Try to Eat” foods still to conquer. “Coffee Hut” at the Berseh Food Center was where our food day began. Two orders of “Kopi and Toast” were placed; surprisingly we were handed one of those paging devices and motioned to take a seat. Except, no one else was at the stall.

Not surprisingly our order was ready quickly. Just two bites into the toast, slathered perfectly with the Coffee Hut’s own Kaya spread, we understood. In fact, we requested a second order of Kaya Toast, we liked it that much. The Kaya spread was not at all what we were expecting, especially for DH, who despises coconut. The one jar we brought home will be empty soon, sadly.

No time to waste Instagramming coconut jam toast, though. From Coffee Hut we walked over to Kampong Glam, so named in Malay for kampong (village) and the gelam (paperbark tree) whose bark was used for shipbuilding. But first, a slow and careful wander through the abandoned Muslim Cemetery, the final resting place for Muslims who migrated from Kerala, India. We had arrived just after a morning rain shower, and the steam rising from the overgrown grass swirled around the markers, some tilted, some crumbling; and at that moment we felt like we were in a secret, exotic location yet we were steps away from busy Victoria Street.

We weren’t sure what to expect, but Kampong Glam impressed. The diversity of color on the shophouses was matched only by the sheer variety of stores and restaurants, several with little shrines filled with offerings of oranges; my camera was snapping in overtime! And then I spotted a Heritage Hawker I didn’t think we could fit in the schedule, Zam Zam Singapore, established in 1908 and the oldest Muslim restaurant in Singapore. Who cares that it was but 1000 in the morning, I walked in…and my face fell. All the tables were filled! Just at that moment, though, we were ushered upstairs and informed, “The air is cool up there.” The upstairs was about as busy as the tiny lower level, and the air was indeed cool. We beelined to two empty seats and before long had two lime juices in hand. Ahh. Knowing what the day held in store, and spying the ginormous size of even the “Small” Murtabak around us, we shared the finest plate of Mee Goreng to pass my taste buds. I have prepared the dish at home, or so I have thought; let me just write that the overlap between the two preparations is small.

Happy and not overstuffed, our walking approach to the Sultan Mosque was postcard-perfect: shuttered buildings and palm trees aligned symmetrically; and the Turkish patterns of the many restaurant’s outdoor benches like the inside of a kaleidoscope. And color, lots of color. The mosque was closed for prayer, but we have been inside mosques before and so walked over to the Malay Heritage Center, a well-spent hour learning about Malay culture and heritage.

Our route afterward took us along Arab Street and its stores of glorious batik and silk and other fabrics I know not what to do with. What I do know, however, is how to measure and so brought home enough silk to have someone with talent transform the fabric into new curtains for our master bedroom. (On a funny aside, DH is more than 2 meters in height. As we passed a fabric shop for gentleman’s suit fabrics the shopkeeper offered to him, “I make you a tall suit for a short price!”) I almost, almost, got caught up in a Persian rug shop; clearly my high from last spring’s rug-purchasing escapade in Marrakesh has not worn off. Had I not been thirsty and thus losing interest in the many handwoven rugs being unrolled before me there would have been another magic carpet in DH’s suitcase. Of course, I now regret my impatience.

Thankfully…time to eat! Our destination was the Michelin one-star Hawker, Tai Hwa Eating House. We queued with locals and fellow tourists, and in a half-hour or thereabouts were whisked through the soup line past the “Do Not Touch Me” sign (for the chef, we wondered?), collected our Teochew dry bowls and broth and had wedged in at a table for 8 with about 12 other people. As I wrote previously the noodles were quite good, really, but Mr. Ng’s noodles near our hotel had stolen my heart.

Uh oh! Rain clouds looked ominous as we were leaving our second lunch, but we made it to the Peranakan Museum before any steamy drops could further moisten us. I won’t write much here except that we found our visit to be an exceptionally good use of our waning hours in Singapore. Between reading the placards along the “Heritage Trails” in Chinatown, touring the Malay Heritage Center in Kampong Glam and the Peranakan Museum, our knowledge of and sense of appreciation for the extraordinary melting pot that is Singapore felt richer.

Guess what? Time to eat! The clock ticking, now counting down to the beginning of the light show at Gardens by the Bay meant that “dinner” needed to be quick. Chili crabs to the rescue! I can not recall the exact place we sat, but we did get to select our crustaceans from a tank, and presto! before we had finished our first glasses of lime juice the steamed and sauced crabs were delivered to the table. Yum. Yum. Yum. The crab meat was sweet and the sauce spicy; with a little steamed rice on the side, delicious.

We reached the Gardens moments before the light show began, and found a comfortable space on the opposite side of the lake for the show. I would have written that we thought we had the best seats in the house, but moments after the show began DD messaged from the skywalk, “Look where we are!” To the honors musicians go the spoils.

Not quite. Though DD and her musical peers had to return to their hotel, we adults decided to head to “Satay Street,” an almost unfair gastronomic trap: the aroma from the grills lure one closer; then, while you’re distracted by the sight of hundreds of satay sticks stacked and waiting to be charcoal-kissed, the “hustlers” (as DH called them) usher you to a table. Surrounded by tables and laughing people and heaps of sticks of grilled goodness, there is no more hope for escape. Two beers and the minimum order of 26 sticks (10 beef, 10 chicken, and 6 mini-lobster sized shrimps) were placed before we even realized what we had done. But, what fun! (For the record, we ate all 26 Satay sticks!) And that Satay sauce? Seems I’ve been doing that wrong, as well.

By this point in the evening? early morning? we were done, and hailed a taxi back to the hotel for the night, the plan being to sleep in to prepare for the long day ahead.

Except, no. My eyes opened with the birds and their dawn chorus, so I paid it forward and woke DH. We dozed lightly with our coffees on the terrace and then took ourselves to Mr. Ng’s noodle shop for one last breakfast. Such good noodles, and so much fun watching families laughing and eating together on this Saturday morning. But the clock was ticking even faster…

…to the Singapore Botanic Gardens on this final morning, and the ideal activity for the time remaining. I will not write that the air was cool and dry, but it being morning meant the gardens had not reached max humidity and were pleasant to stroll through. The Orchid Garden was a treat even with the crowds; but the Ginger Garden was a little disappointing because many of the plants were not blooming. Still, as with the Peranakan Museum we were pleased the gardens had been part of our itinerary.

Now there remained not enough time for Tian Tian Chicken. I know, I know. We traveled all the way to Singapore and did not even sample a signature dish; as it turned out, this would be the beginning of a trend for the remainder of my Asian holiday. But what to do for lunch? The bus route from the gardens took us straight down Orchard Road, and from deep within the recess of the Singapore-food-research part of my brain I recalled a nondescript and top-rate basement Hawker Center serving “something” memorable enough to warrant queues by locals. I hadn’t made much note of it, given that Orchard Road was not on our itinerary, but I was approaching hangry. Desperate times call for desparate measures, so I jumped off the bus at the top of Shopping Mall Lane in search of a basement Hawker Center whose name I could not recall, serving a dish from a stall I could not remember, either. DH was not quick enough and had to transit on to the next stop to reconnect. Oops.

Two blocks later I recognized the Hawker Center sign from memory and darted down the stairs. Scanning the small space quickly I spied a queue at one stall, and one stall only. Success! DH caught up with me as I was placing two orders for Prawn Noodles from a Heritage Hawker. Yay to me! DH joked with me over our delicious, delicious lunch that while I can rarely remember to tell him when my wagon needs petrol, I can recall one food stall out of thousands from something I read on the Internet. I told him that it’s a gift, and the reason we have been happily married for so long.

But our romantic lunch could only last so long. I needed to shower; we both had to finish packing, and the driver would be waiting promptly at 1845. To the hotel we scurried. The suitcases were packed, and exactly on time we stepped into our hired car for the drive to the Singapore American School and the performance.

At the intermission of the fabulous three-hour concert we both changed from concert attire into travel attire; once the concert ended our driver, who had been chilling with the many other drivers waiting at the school, whisked us to the airport in time for our respective 0130 flights. DH connected with DD and fellow musicians and parents for their Vienna return flights while I boarded my six-hour onward connection to Seoul for the second leg of the adventure I have since dubbed, The Chopstick Diaries. Barely had the cabin doors on my flight been secured than did my eyes close, Dvorak’s Symphony No. 8 from earlier in the evening playing in my head and lulling me to sleep.

Yummmm!

What a culinary adventure! Thanks for bringing back some of the happy memories we've had of Singapore. Looking forward to your impressions of Seoul, a city we've not yet visited.

The Chopstick Diaries: Seoul

Incheon International Airport’s new Terminal 2 opened in January of this year, in time for the Olympic and Paralympic Games. It is sleek and pretty and calm and soothing. What it is not, is near to Terminal 1, from where the express train to Seoul Station departs.

Meeting me in Terminal 1 was my friend from Japan, who accepted the invitation to join me in Seoul and had arrived the night before; we would then transit to Tokyo together after our Seoul city break. The friend I would be seeing in Seoul works part-time, so the more friends to sightsee with, the merrier, right? And that’s exactly how our four days in South Korea’s capital happened.

I messaged Japan Friend (JF) upon landing at 0830, telling her I needed to stop for some Won before catching the shuttle bus that runs between the two terminals. Retrieving Won was easy, once I located a machine that accepted International Bank Cards. But, what was that? A service fee? Sorry, Seoul, but charging me to withdraw my own money is not very welcoming, so I made a note to guestimate my cash spending to reduce the withdrawals necessary. As it turned out Seoul (and Tokyo) both accept plastic for even small purchases (€1,50 equivalent), so I could truly minimize cash withdrawals.

But I have digressed. Cash in hand, I boarded the shuttle for T2. Looking out the window I notice the bus driving further and further away from the airport. I called up Google Maps and discovered I was not jet-lagged; the two terminals are quite far apart! Fifteen minutes later we reached T1, where I connected with JF and we purchased our AREX (train) tickets to Seoul.

Not wanting to impose on Seoul Friend (SF) and her new job I decided to reserve a room at the same hotel as JF, a rather simple but upscale hotel in the middle of Insa-dong that worked out superbly. We arrived from the airport and were able to check in early, freshen up, then forage for a large snack before making the most of the afternoon ahead of us. JF said she was thrilled to go along with the Seoul itinerary I had drafted, so our first destination was the National Museum for its temporary art exhibits on Tigers, closing that day; the visiting pieces from The Hermitage; and the standing calligraphy exhibits plus whatever else struck our fancy.

I must write now about JF’s snack from the 7-Eleven. If you are not in the know, 7-Eleven is a Korean food mecca. I picked up a fresh made SPAM onigiri (be jealous, it tasted fantastic) and a package of grapes. JF purchased a wrapped package labeled, “Cheese Sandwich,” the picture showing a brown bread sandwich containing lettuce and cheese. But it was not a cheese sandwich; the package contained sandwich cheese—six slices! We laughed and laughed on our way to the Metro.

The National Museum of Korea was worth every minute of the two-plus hours we spent. The temporary exhibits were well done and held our attention, the Tigers a little more so than works from The Hermitage; the former showcasing the Asian King of Beasts to coincide with its representation as mascot of the 2018 Olympic and Paralympic Games. But the way in which the museum wove the history of Korea into the space left us feeling as if we had actually learned something.

From the museum we visited the War Memorial of Korea and viewed the tanks and airplanes on the grounds, though we did not visit the war memorial museum. While we were inspecting the inside of a tank we were asked by two older Korean men, once they confirmed we were American, if they could take their photo with us. They remarked that they were veterans and wanted a photo altogether by the tank. This would not be the last time on this holiday we engaged positively with older Korean persons.

By now the afternoon, and we, were waning; a SPAM and rice ball and some cheese slices only goes so far. In retrospect, though, I am entirely pleased with allowing as much time as I had for the National Museum, and don’t feel the visit to the war memorial was shortchanged.

I had not devoted as much research to Korean foods as I had to Singapore, mostly because my appreciation for Korean foods has little bounds. A copout, some might say, but I prefer to call it leaving serendipity to chance (you’ll read why later in the holiday). After a few moments to collect ourselves back at the hotel we set out for dinner in Insa-dong, where old meets new, and where girls in rented Hanbok are as popular as the Naked Singing Cowboy in Time Square, finding a little place that could be the Seoul equivalent of the Izakaya in Midnight Diner: Tokyo. We cozied up on two chairs facing the wall and pointed at the picture menu: made-to-order Jap Chae Dumplings; Fried Shrimp; and Galbi Dumplings. Total tab for the two of us? A mere 10.500 Won (€8). Epicurean happiness!

Would our sightseeing and dining good fortune continue (the “Cheese Sandwich” episode aside) we mused later that night, when checking the weather forecast and plotting the next day’s adventures…

The cheese sandwich episode had me laughing. I too have had my encounters with poor English translations, all of it in East and Southeast Asia and almost always funny.

I actually googled up every dish by name and every restaurant/eatery by name to see what the food look like, and what are the ingredients.
Great writing! Following along.

The Chopstick Diaries Seoul: Certainly Not “Culturally Dull”

Winter was clinging to the breezy and cold Korean peninsula, so it was our parkas we donned for this sightseeing day. Compared to the attention-to-detail-to-a-fault of young Korean women (some might call it vanity) we felt woefully underdressed and certainly under K-cosmeticked; however, we were warm.

As neither of us had traveled to Seoul previously we kept the itinerary fairly predictable, starting with Gyeongbokgung Palace, the main royal palace of the Joseon Kings who ruled Korea for more than 500 years. Our arrival at the palace was with perfect timing, too, just in time for the Changing of the Guards! Color, and pomp and circumstance (along with lots and lots of women in rented Hanbok) adding festivity to the history.

The palace complex excited me with its gracious and minimal structures sitting calmly amidst a background of skyscrapers, and the sun and sky made ideal light combinations for photos. Though the palace’s Royal Throne Room and Pavilion were but among the few spared from destruction during the time of Japanese occupation, the (€3,80 equivalent) informative booklet from the ticket booth was helpful in imagining the rest of the large complex, now recreated. At one point during our wandering I could not help but think of an ex-pat whose blog I had unearthed in my research, who described their six-day visit to the Seoul as, “culturally dull” and wondered if we were in the city s/he had described. Such an ungrateful person.

Leaving the palace we were lured by the aromas wafting out of a tiny, tiny restaurant of three tables and run by a mom and her son that looked as if it had just opened that day. We were not shown a menu but instead informed that the “best” dish was the Bibimbap. Two orders of Bibimbap were thus placed. Mom smiled. They were a great duo: Mom clearly loved to cook and Son clearly loved to engage with the diners; he chatted with us throughout the meal, peppering us with questions about America. In between answers we savored some incredible Bibimbap alongside what I have declared my favorite Kimchi of the Seoul visit, though this ranking would be tested the following evening. (On an aside, I was thinking, why were my greens much tastier in Asia than at home in Central Europe? The humble Bibb lettuce in Mr. Ng’s noodle bowls in Singapore was an awakening of crispy and crunchy and flavor; and the steamed spinach in my Bibimbap tasted as if it had only been plucked from the earth moments before. A great food mystery, I suppose.)

Warmed, and entirely happy with our lunch decision we walked over to Bukchon Hanok Village, a representative Korean village retaining its design from the Joseon Dynasty and tucked within big and modern Seoul, with scant tourists (at least on our visit); signs urging tourists (likelier in the busy season) to respect the privacy of the homeowners; visitors in rented Hanbok posing here and there; and odd photoshoots with American models in sequined “Frosted Flakes” dresses. Perhaps it was the timing of our visit, but we found Bukchon much to our liking. Though flowers and trees were not quite in bloom, the streets were quiet and the setting made for beautiful filtered-light photos. The little galleries were not crowded; and we were encouraged to linger when we stopped at a tea house for a pause. We imagined we might have felt differently at another time of the year.

Leaving Bukchon we both agreed on the need for retail time in Insa-dong before dinner but quickly became distracted by the music and colors at the Joygesa Temple. This primary temple of Buddhism in Seoul was celebrating something that we could not quite discern, but with the music and the colorful lanterns and the happy people all around us we decided that we all the invitation we needed! The temple itself is worth visiting, even if you should find yourself in the near and there is no merriment.

Eventually we did find our way into Insa-dong. The busy streets of Seoul may be filled with over-the-top cute (for our daughters), but Insa-dong was filled with traditional artisans and items that would long outlive “cute.” Once again we were privileged to not be amongst crowds; the shops in Ssamziegil were empty and welcoming (perhaps not so to my pocketbook); and the owner of the calligraphy brush store at which the Queen herself once paid a visit was delighted to talk to us about brushes. Really, though Seoul may be a cosmopolitan big city, Insa-dong was altogether its own gem.

A brief stop at the hotel to drop packages was just the time needed for our frozen noses and toeses to warm, and for we to decide that wandering far for dinner was not an option. Thankfully around the corner from the hotel was a KFC; that is, a Korean Fried Chicken place, so we settled into a table and ordered a platter to share. The chicken was exceptionally good, with paper-thin crispy skin and tender chicken, though we would later relegate the meal to “Tourist Fare” status after the kindly, 87-year old Pek guided us to, “The Best” KFC the following day.

That story, however, is to be continued…

I've really been enjoying your report. I was with you all through Singapore, and could visualize it all, having been there many times. I've not been to Korea, so this section is fascinating to me.

Keep it coming!

Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments. I am glad you're enjoying the report as much as I am writing it. If only the lovely weather here in Vienna weren't compelling me to be outdoors, I might actually finish writing!

Guenmai, though we missed Candlenut, I did pick up a Peranakan cookbook, Nonya Heritage Kitchen and gave a recipe for White Curry Chicken a go: it was, not surprisingly, a huge hit with the family. The recipe was once on the menu at Candlenut, so I can pretend I have eaten there. :)

The Chopstick Diaries Seoul: Suwon and a Michelin Bib Gourmand!

Suwon lies about an hour to the south of Seoul on one of the Metro lines and is home to the country's only walled city, the Hwaseong Fortress, a UNESCO Heritage Site. I know, UNESCO designations aren’t always what they seem, but the designation in this regard was most deserved. The construction of the fortress was a remarkable scientific feat for its time (late 1700s during the Joseon Dynasty); and the 10 volumes of notes written after its construction proved invaluable when recreating structures following destruction during the Korean War.

Picture, if you can, what awaited us on this day. Suwon is home to around 1 million people; in the city lies the fortress, whose perimeter is a little more than 5 kilometers. The entirety of the fortress wall can be walked; we managed only about 3 kilometers not for lack of interest but rather the opposite: taking exceptional photos from the bastions; and wandering down the stairs to explore the traditional markets and neighborhoods and the old Haenggung Palace on the inside. At the south gate of the fortress lies a market; or rather, nine markets of more than 1300 stalls (!) selling everything from tools to kimchi fermentation pots for families of all sizes; pig heads neatly aligned in butcher cases; herbs and potions to cure everything that ails you; and the funny Citizen’s Marketselling “elderly women’s clothing.” Plus a dizzying array of Korean street food. It was wise that we did not sample the food, though.

We had been intrigued by a place on our map described as “Chicken Street” and at the closest point wandered down from the wall at “The Place Which Descends” (a sign referring to the stairs :) ) and best-guessed our way toward the street. Walking toward us was an elderly man, looking snappy in his pressed khakis and parka. This was Pek, who became our ad hoc tour guide, a charming 87 year-old man who not only walked us to "Chicken Street" in spite of his admission of drinking wine all morning and forgetting his English (which was still far superior to our Korean!), but also made certain he had taken us to what he deemed the “best” KFC in Suwon.

“Chicken Street,” it turned out, is where chicken restauranteurs of 40 years’ tradition ply their wares, vying for customers with variations in their spicy chicken sauce. It is the place to go in Suwon, and you know you are there when you spy the sculpture of a chicken and three eggs at the entrance to the street. The delectable aroma of fried chicken is a notable giveaway, as well. We walked in to Pek’s suggested place and were motioned to a table; for a weekday lunchtime the restaurant was crazy busy! Large groups, couples, families—everyone was eating fried chicken!

Observing the scene and the menu board, we thought we’d play it safe and order the “Half Plain, Half Spicy” chicken platter to share. While waiting for our food a bowl of what we called, “Fat Cheerios” was set before us along with the pickled vegetables. The “cheerios” were addictive in that snack-kind-of-way, whatever they were, and perhaps our downfall. The first “half” of our order arrived in good time, enough crunchy, nubby plain chicken to feed a Joseon army! Thinking that perhaps the waiter had not understood our finger-pointing at the menu we shrugged it off. But the waiter was indeed fluent in finger-pointing, for moments later he appeared with another feed-an-army size platter of the spicy chicken! To our credit we did not waste a single, spicy, lick-your-fingers bite of the chicken. The chicken we touted from the previous night did not hold a candle to Chicken Street chicken, just saying.

This slight overindulgence worked to our advantage, or at least that's our story. All morning long we had been battered by gusty winds which had intensified later in the day, making the return across the long side of the fortress a good workout, and the chicken being the fuel to make the return. Along the return we detoured past the palace and walked the grounds (most worthwhile) and rambled into and out of shops before catching our bus and then the train, our feet happy to rest after this 18.4 kilometer day.

Early evening was upon us when we reached the hotel in Seoul, but did the heaping lunch platters of KFC keep us from dinner? Of course not. But where to eat on this cold, cold--“Was that snow we smelled in the air?” evening? Why, a "Good Restaurant," naturally. Down a narrow passage from the hotel was a, “Good Restaurant,” according to the sign on the exterior. We peered into this little nondescript place and were quickly ushered to a table, surrounded by families, couples, and a rowdy room of Korean businessmen. Before we knew what was happening bowls of piping hot traditional Seollantang (ox bone soup) appeared before us, followed by the proprietor, with scissors and a basket of kimchi, which she personally cut for us. I don’t have to write how satisfying a hot bone broth with silky oxen meat and fresh noodles can be on a cold (and as we would discover shortly, snowy) night! Leaving the humble space we spotted a second sign near the cash stand. We had just dined, sans menu, at a Michelin Bib-Gourmand restaurant! A “Good Restaurant” indeed!

About that snow…

The Chopstick Diaries: Sayonara, Seoul! Konichiwa, Japan!

So much for Spring. Light snow was falling as we finally caught up with my Seoul Friend for a tour of Noryangjin Fish Market, where one can select their dinner and then take it upstairs to be cooked. We, though, just came to ogle these National Geographic caliber creatures of the sea. Aside from some of the most delicious-looking seafood I have seen in such time (I live in landlocked Austria; the jumbo Karpfen swimming in the market tanks is just not the same), JF noticed that many of the stalls are run by women, unlike at the Tsukiji Fish Market. Girl Power.

Warmed by a package of fresh made red bean paste-filled fish cakes (in design only) from a street vendor we decided on some worthwhile wandering of Dongdaemun, one of Asia's largest shopping districts and where I picked up (quite) a few fun things for DD as the snow blew sideways at us. A Fashion Week event was underway, the models walking amongst us mortals (at least we think the Hello Kitty-robed dude was a model) and looking terribly frozen through their smiles and skimpy clothing. Lunch was at a place suggested by Seoul Friend, near one of Seoul’s old gates: steaming stone bowls of Bulgogi with crispy rice on the bottom! If you have never eaten this goodness, you really should.

JF and I bid farewell to Seoul Friend, and braving the weather headed back toward Insa-dong, the intention being to pack and take in the excitement of the street markets in Myeondong before our departure the following day. Walking back to the hotel, the snow falling a little more heavily, I snapped a lovely photo of the Bosingak Belfry amidst swirling flakes that is just about frame-worthy. The Belfry was during the Joseon times to mark time; the bell would ring 33 times at 4 AM to start the day; thankfully now it is only rung to celebrate the New Year's.

Taking the little break was ruinous to our dinner plans. The lure of Korean street food lost to, “Let’s get something close by so we won’t freeze.” Darn you, Mother Nature. Snow? On the first day of Spring? All is well that ends well, as the saying goes, and the menu at a nearby Indian/Pakistani restaurant was just the palate cleanser we needed for our departure to Japan the following day. Karahi Beef and its spices brought tears (of joy) to my eyes; JF reported equal happiness with her Paneer Curry. So, just as I left Singapore without lifting a chopstick of Chicken Rice to my lips, I would leave Seoul without sitting for Korean Barbeque. Two strikes in my “foodie” credentials passport. Would I redeem myself in Japan?

Of course, the morning of our departure day was non-parka warm and sunny! JF and I had just enough time for a lengthy walkabout of Changdeokgung Palace, one of the five main Joseon palaces and the one considered the most beautiful. We agreed; the palace buildings seem as if they came from nature rather than interrupted it; and if I had been a Joseon royal this is where I would be spending mytime. We specifically did not purchase tickets for the “Secret Garden” tour because the kind person at the ticket kassa told us, “The gardens are not pretty today.”

Now time was of the essence. A fast-paced walk to the hotel to collect our bags, and then the not-so-interesting hour ride to Incheon. JinAir only offers in-person, at-the-airport check-in so we duly obliged. I hoisted my 22.9kg Tumi onto the baggage belt and the JinAir groundcrew member smiled and said, “We only allow 15kg for checked baggage.” I just smiled in return and she moved the baggage along.

The quirky checked baggage limit aside, JinAir was a pleasant airline to fly; and if I had to hop back and forth between Tokyo and Seoul I would have little to grouse about. Though the plane was older (translation: no entertainment beyond the in-flight magazine), the seats were spacious and the legroom ample. The afternoon “snack” was a box with a Tuna Onigiri. The snack was delicious; the tuna-breath filled cabin air, perhaps not so much.

Konichiwa, Tokyo? JinAir doesn’t exactly rate a prime gate at Narita. We may actually have landed in Osaka and taxied to Narita, that is how long it felt we were moving along the runway. The JinAir flight crew was ready for the impatience and would periodically announce that we were “almost” at our gate. Kind of funny, really.

Finally, bags in hand we headed to the Japan Rail Office to collect my pre-purchased JREast Pass. Except the system failed. Regardless of whether one has pre-purchased a pass, one must still queue with all those who have not. So much for time saved. Nearly 45 minutes after we joined the queue did I receive my pass. JF messaged her DH that he should head to the market and collect some dinner for us, as it was nearing 2000 and neither she nor I were any longer in the mood to dine out.

JF’s DH came through spectacularly, with tempura and steamed edamame waiting for us. We feasted; I Instagrammed the view over Tokyo Bay from their 19thfloor apartment building; and then we called it a night.

Coming up, an old Edo village and Nepalese cuisine…

Still enjoying this! Sounds like a return trip to SK is in order for the missing barbeque, lol - there is plenty to see beyond Seoul.

I'm curious about your thoughts about Seoul in comparison to Tokyo. In my mind, there seems to be a lot of similarities. While I've visited South Korea, I haven't been to Seoul.

My understanding was that you cannot buy the JR Pass on the ground without having pre-purchased the voucher outside of Japan, but the JR Office doesn't only deal with JR Pass purchases but a bunch of other tickets too. Has this rule changed and they are now selling JR Passes without need of the voucher?

P.S. Loving the report and super excited to read the Japan segment coming up!

The Chopstick Diaries Japan: From Dynasties to Shogunates

This was my second visit to Japan. On the previous visit with DH and DChildren we spent 12 days divided between Tokyo and Kyoto, and with day trips; so on this holiday my itinerary was a little more free-flow. JF had suggested Kawagoe to me and it sounded appealing, so off the three of us (one of JF’s friends, as well) set on my first full day.

Kawagoe is an Edo village with castle remnants from the Tokugawa Shogunate; clay-walled shops and houses called Kurazukuri; and plenty of girls in rented kimonos taking selfies. At least at the time of our visit it appeared Kawagoe had not yet been, “discovered,” so my snaps are void of large tour groups unconsciously following a cherry blossom flag up and down the streets.

From the Kawagoe train station there is an historic bus that runs a loop, dropping passengers at various interesting sights. We boarded and bounced merrily along, understanding very little of the white-gloved driver’s narrative as we passed into the old city. The three of us alit at the castle; though it was closed on our visit (a random Friday), the buildings and the landscaping created some of the prettiest photos of my holiday. I should mention now that Japan’s Tourism Bureau pulled out all the stops for me, weather-wise, including Cherry Blossoms at near Peak Bloom! And, the Imperial Palace Gardens being opened to visitors! But these stories are later to come.

I write that we all loved Kawagoe. JF and her friend (and their DH’s) had visited a couple of months prior on a wet and cold day and even then, knew a return visit was in order, so when I finalized my travel plans Kawagoe was added to the itinerary. Uncrowded temples, quiet cemeteries, unique stores (except for the brand-new Starbucks); and eye-popping scenery and architecture with nearly every step. We sampled Yuzu honey and “Baumkuchen,” a flat cake with layers like the rings of a tree, and bought several of each to bring home.

As the best tips always go, a friend of a friend of my JF suggested we queue for lunch at, “The Noodle House behind the Soy Sauce Museum.” So we did, after we learned about and sampled soy sauces, naturally. We arrived 15 minutes before opening and scored the last available table. Three bowls of thick and slurpy Udon noodles in a silky broth with melty, caramelized pork belly soon arrived at our table. We were happy. Who wouldn’t be? After lunch JF and her friend headed to a glass-blowing workshop while I and my camera wandered more of Kawagoe, especially the Buddhist shrines with Ema, the wooden plaques for worshippers to write prayers or wishes, and Buddha statues still covered with shawls against the chill; and in the Buddhist cemetery, memorial Tohbas (long wooden sticks with notches to represent a pagoda for the common person) for the departed, so different from the cemeteries I wander in Central Europe. The three of regrouped later for Tokoyaki from the street vendor in a park (fish balls on a stick), beneath blooming plum blossoms before returning to Tokyo.

Though JF lives in a high-rise, the neighborhood is still very much a mix of modern and traditional, with little restaurants of all cuisines tucked in narrow lanes that locals know about and tourists usually don’t bother to seek out. Since dinner was now up for consideration JF suggested the, “little Nepalese place around the corner.” And why not? JF’s DH caught up with us and we all took seats along the counter to watch the chefs (Nepalese and Indian) prepare the dishes, all of which could be ordered tapas-style, in smaller portions meant for sharing. The proprietors have a Coriander farm and as such also had a “Coriander Menu.” We ordered only the Coriander Beer (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it) and a couple of plates of Momo (Nepalese dumplings filled with spiced ground lamb) before just letting the chefs suggest their favorites to us. The three of us watched everything being prepared before us, from the pickled cabbage with crisp pappadum to the lamb cutlet and kiln-baked chicken to the “Takari,” a large plate with numerous little dishes, from seasoned greens to dal and more pickled vegetables. Every dish was elegant in its simplicity and sophisticated in its flavors; in basic terms, delicious. As we walked back to the apartment afterward, we finalized our day trip to Nagano in the morning…

thursdaysd, I agree, I need to return to South Korea (and Singapore and Japan). So much to see, so much to eat...

tripplanner001, I found Seoul and Tokyo to be similar in the same way that I find Washington, DC and New York City to be similar. Both Seoul and Tokyo, like DC and The Big Apple, can one-up the other depending on the criteria. All of this written, I would not turn down an opportunity to return to either.

Kavey, I do not know if the rules for purchasing JR passes have changed. But, I can report that once I was closer to the sales counters in the queue I could overhear numerous people talking with clerks and deciding upon passes to purchase; they seemed to be what was slowing the process down. My transaction took less than a minute or so to complete.

From japan-guide.com:

"From March 8, 2017 until March 31, 2019 (and possibly beyond that date), it is also possible to purchase the Japan Rail Pass at an increased cost (see table below) at selected major stations and airports inside Japan, including Narita Airport, Haneda Airport and Kansai Airport."

There are also regional passes that do not have to be bought outside the country.

Thanks, very interesting, will research before our trip next year.

Ah just read this, thanks Thursday!

The Chopstick Diaries Japan: Nagano and Yokohama

The episode wherein luck favors the prepared, and sightseeing with a Straw Man.*

Saturday dawned bright and sunny and warm; the forecast equally so for our long day outing to Nagano. Not even Tokyo Station on a Saturday morning could dampen our enthusiasm. The station is simply crazy; if you aren’t moving visibly and predictably, there is a good chance you’ll never catch your train. Or perhaps not catch any train. JF and I, though, deftly maneuvered our way through the station and to a market for breakfast provisions, then politely queued with other travelers on the platform for our Shinkansen. The formality of the housekeeping staff bowing when a train arrives or departs is artistry; the expediency with which the trains are prepared for new passengers is impressive.

Some 75-ish minutes later we arrived at Nagano Station. Having completely committed to memory (and copied to my iPhone files for backup) the thoughtful blogging of a traveler who shared step-by-step instructions, with photos, on how to connect to the hourly Jigokudani Monkey Park bus, we were prepared and had our “Snow Monkey Day Pass” purchased, with even a little time to browse the excellent gourmet market in the station before boarding.

One travel blogger noted the “steep” initial incline from the bus stop to the entrance to the park, so we were on the lookout. I now report that “steep” is a matter of opinion. Soon enough, snow monkeys! We felt like aspiring Jane Goodall's, observing the Japanese Macaque in its native habitat. Or was it the other way around--were we the primates being observed?

The day outing to the monkey park up in the Japanese Alps was entirely memorable; and the monkeys, entirely too adorable. New moms with their spring babies and that exhausted look on their faces (haven't we all felt that way at some point?) Monkeys sunning themselves by the onsen and on the sun-kissed rocks, the day too warm for a dip in the hot sulfur spring. Alpha males and cute little monkey bums! Signs were everywhere requesting that visitors not get too near the monkeys. But, baby monkeys were scrambling under our feet! The Japanese Serow even made an appearance in this wild kingdom; its ninja deer-goat-antelope appearance quite extraordinary.

After we had convinced ourselves that we had sufficient photos, and more importantly, had successfully kept one another from tucking a fluffy baby monkey into our totes did we leave the monkey park. Along the way is a private onsen for humans, and we happened by just as a male Homo sapiens stepped outside of his onsen wearing nothing but the clothes he was born in to snap a picture of the beautiful scenery. A wild kingdom of a different sort!

“The Farmhouse,” a restaurant outside of the park was the Japanese equivalent of my much-loved Hütte: a cheery and welcoming place offering comfort food and local beer after a long hike; in our case, the weekend set menu of curry and a Snow Monkey IPA. Because we had planned, we finished lunch and walked the final 500 meters just in time to catch the right bus to the station to avoid a lengthy wait for a return train.

Dinner was once again prepared foods from the upscale market near the apartment building, enjoyed on the balcony overlooking Tokyo Bay while going over our day outing to Yokohama the following day. JF’s neighbors (Straw Man (SM), his wife and their 2 year-old “prodigy”) were invited to join us, as they had visited several times (JF and her DH had not yet visited) because SM “totally knew” the “best Dim Sum place” (as a self-purported foodie) as well as the “perfect” route in order for me to see the requested sights (the Ramen Museum and the marine sea park). You might read into this that the day did not go quite as planned, and you would be correct.

Yokohama was once a small fishing village during the Edo period. Then along came Commander Perry to "suggest" (he brought his fleet of American warships as a calling card) that Japan end its policy of national seclusion by opening its ports to trade. Next followed Western fashion, English-language newspapers, and of course, three Starbucks. Now the city is Japan's fourth largest and offers a day's worth of history and fun including Chinatown, the largest in Asia; a Ramen Museum, where one can sample variations of the noteworthy noodle from around Japan; and a marine sea park offering a glimpse of ocean life in the waters surrounding Japan.

The Chinese established a Chinatown more than 150 years ago in Yokohama, making it the largest across Asia; and touring it was a highlight activity for me. Richly decorated gates marked the entrances. Queues for Dim Sum stretched along the sidewalk, no one complaining about standing in the spring sunshine to wait for a table. Colorful streets with colorful stores beckoned. In nearby Yamashita Park along the waterfront people walked with their children, both canine and human, through the impeccable grounds filled with the most well-behaved flowers. And all around, more cherry blossoms.

This reads like a perfect day, doesn’t it? (*In reality, it was suspicion at first introduction on my part; and I privately dubbed the neighbor, “Straw Man” because he sucked the fun out of my day.) For someone who reportedly had visited Yokohama “many” times, he had never heard of the marine sea park, so it wasn't on his agenda. And instead of touring the Ramen Museum, he had devised a walking tour of some decomissioned ocean liner and two former port warehouses that are now overcrowded, chicy-mhicy shopping and dining venues; and then dragged us two kilometers at the end of the day to see a North Korean rusty scupper (that we couldn’t see anyway because the sight was closed.) But I don’t want to give everything away about my mostly non-fun day…

Walking through Chinatown, SM became visibly irritable when JF and I would attempt to wander in and out of stores, shops of interest, taking photos and otherwise doing what we had set out to do. At one shop he pointed and said, “You both should shop here. It’s where all the tourists shop.” At lunch, SM engaged me in conversation, but not the small talk typically reserved for strangers; it was more of an assessment: “Did I understand what Dim Dum was?” and, "You do know the Ma Po Tofu is spicy?" and telling me, "You can't order anything with shrimp. We haven't tested Child Prodigy for shrimp allergies." This coming from a “foodie” who did not even know to open his Mu Shi pancake before filling it; he left it folded…

After what was truly medicore Dim Sum I deliberately invented ways to avoid doing anything on his agenda. While the group followed him onto old boats and into crowded shopping centers, I declined cheerily, saying that my camera was begging for more waterfront/gardens/cherry blossom snaps, but that I would certainly meet everyone afterward. And that is what I did. By the end of the afternoon, after we had been dragged to the North Korean ship, even JF was exasperated and suggested that we all return to Tokyo. On the train home SM suggested a pub serving “the best” American food for dinner, and thankfully JF piped up with, “The two of us are going for soup dumplings at my favorite place; we need to plan for tomorrow.” We shared velvety transparent dumplings filled with truffles and ground pork; glass-thin shrimp dumplings, and worked out our fun-filled plan for the next day.

Up next: Sakura and Ohanami!

Wow! I never thought of Nagano as within the geographic reach of a day trip from Tokyo. The wonders of high-speed train travel!

Too bad you wasted your day in Yokohama. Sounds like it could have been avoidable too.

Reading54, I apologize for missing your earlier comment. I took careful photos and notes on everything I had eaten on this holiday in the hopes that I can recreate some of the dishes, too!

tripplanner001, yes! Nagano can be a day trip from Tokyo! We caught an 0845 train or thereabouts to Nagano, and then the connection to the Monkey Park (planing is essential). We were back to Tokyo Station by 1930. It is Shinkansen magic. :) I was bummed about my Yokohama day, certainly. JF had had no reason to suspect that Straw Man was not quite the Jack-of-all-sightseeing-trades that he claimed to be; and since the day was beautiful and I was on holiday with friends (and strangers) it was best just to make the most of it.

Alas! The best laid plans... sorry about SM, but otherwise, it sounds like a fabulous day!

The Chopstick Diaries Japan: Sakura and Ohanami!

"Sakura" means "cherry blossom," and by most excellent fortune the timing of my visit to Japan coincided with stunning weather and near-perfect blooms! This day, thus, was all about the blooms. We (JF, the Kawagoe friend and I, and another of JF’s friends whose DH rather coincidentally will be joining my DH’s group in Vienna, so we had much to chat about) prepared for our blossom viewing with a lovely champagne brunch in a Ginza restaurant high atop Tokyo to put us all in good blossom-viewing spirits (it worked!).

Full disclosure: DH and I are not a “Brunch” people. On weekends we are typically out the door by 0900 either tromping about the Vienna Woods or pointing our wagon toward one of the neighbors. But if Vienna’s brunches were like this one…we began with a small main course (I chose a fish of some sort with a plum glaze) and then were turned loose to explore the buffet arranged with the happiness of Mackerel Confit with Roe, Hokkaido Squash Soup, a Japanese Curry, and on and on; and sweets almost too beautiful to eat. The Champagne flowed freely, too, perhaps a dangerous thing at 1000 in the morning.

We departed this Bacchanal for a leisurely stroll with as many other people as there were blossoms along the Chidorigafuchi-ryokudo path around the moated Imperial Palace. The mood was festive; and the flowers showed off brilliantly against the blue sky and spring green. Every five steps warranted a pause to admire nature’s 360° cinema; I think I snapped close to 200 photos on this walk alone.

But cherry blossom appreciation does not end when the sun goes down! "Ohanami" is the term for "cherry blossom viewing." The blooms are quite special for the Japanese, and picnicking beneath the trees is a tradition dating back centuries. Following our 10km Ohanami, the real work began. Before we left for brunch JF and I staked our Ohanami place along the waterfront below their building; the protocol being to spread one’s picnic blanket and leave a note with your family name, which we did. Back from our walk, friends and food descended upon JF’s apartment. Salads were tossed; Sushi was arranged elegantly on platters; cheeses were drizzled with Yuzu honey; and paper cherry blossom lanterns were hung. (The tins of Manner Wafers that I had brought along were excitedly received, too!)

The evening was special and will be a fond memory for years to come. Friends and colleagues (some of whom I know through DH) laughed together, ate together, and made merry in the warm spring evening air. We were in good company with other groups large and small doing the same up and down the Sumida riverfront; and when river cruise boats with their pink lanterns and happy passengers would sail past, everyone waved and toasted, “Kampai!” Straw Man and his family made an appearance, too; I happened by him just as he was “commenting” that the SPAM Masubi JF had prepared was, “Hawaiian, and not Japanese.” ( :( He brought POPCORN.) Every party needs a pooper.

It being a work night for some, the Ohanami parties up and own the riverfront disbanded at a respectable time. Just one day and change remaining for me on this adventure…

Lucky you, sounds wonderful.

lol at Straw Man - he is consistent.

The Chopstick Diaries: Imperial Tokyo, Touristy Tokyo, Local Tokyo, and…Leaving Tokyo

Not only was I treated to splendid weather and cherry blossoms at near bloom while in Japan, but the Imperial Palace grounds and gardens were open for touring, a rare event that not even many Japanese have experienced. Fearing Disney ride-esque queues we were thrilled to have to wait not more than a few minutes on this final full day before going through security and entering the grounds. Past the palace and among the manicured gardens we were queued ever so politely, with staff on hand to answer questions and to point out ideal places to snap photos. Rather civilized, and entirely a treat.

From the Imperial Gardens we headed next to Ameryoko Market for the energetic buzz and to have lunch at “this little place near the funny sign” that JF recalled. And what fun we had trying to find it, weaving past people and more people, pausing for photos of just about everything and then trying hilariously to slip back into the stream. In between, “Oh, look, another temple tucked behind some clothing shops!” We soon found the sign (“Octopus Fritters Take in Mayonnaise”) and moments later, the “little place.” Edamame; seared Ahi Tuna slices (oh, my word!); Tempura “Shrimp” that were more the size of Mediterranean Langoustines; and a sashimi plate that we devoured with unabashed ecstasy.

Where else to walk off our meal but Ueno Park? Cherry Blossoms, and beneath them, everyone from businessmen sitting on their briefcases with their bento boxes to moms and children sprawled on blankets, soaking up the sun and celebrating the pink and white flowers. The happiness was contagious, too: we grabbed two scoops of Cherry Blossom ice cream and wandered, past so many Ohanami picnics and past the street food lane leading to Toshogo Shrine and the grilled squid-on-a-stick and the pink, green, and white Mochi (also on sticks) and the…corn on the cob?not on a skewer but on two chopsticks, and wishing that we had perhaps not indulged so much at lunch.

With just a couple of hours remaining in our day, JF suggested Senso-ji, Tokyo’s oldest temple. Though we as a family had previously visited I replied, “Of course! I’ll get some updated snaps!” Wow, ten years can add a lot of tourism to a destination, but in trying to dodge a tour group we discovered that one of the related structures was hosting an exhibit of rarely-displayed art from the temple, along with an opportunity to walk in the also rarely-open temple gardens. So, not only did Japan make the sun shine and cherry blossoms bloom; open the Imperial Gardens; but the country also opened their oldest temple’s art and gardens for me to explore! So few tourists were in the gallery and the gardens. Too bad for them, but not for us!

By this point in the day we were exhausted, yet somehow still wanted to eat dinner. JF suggested we head to Ginza, where we could connect with her DH. I was enamored with the eateries beneath the train tracks in the area (a la Midnight Tokyo), but the group vote was for Thai food. I went rather vanilla with my order of Pad Thai, but, just as any Italian restaurant worth its salt should be able to prepare a perfect Spaghetti Aglio e Aioli, so should a Thai place be able to prepare their national noodle dish correctly, right? Well, the odds were ever in my favor; the dish had been prepared by someone who knows.

A “late” start of 0900 on my final morning. JF and I, and Kawagoe friend, walked about her neighborhood, which has been featured in the movie and anime series, Sangatsu no Lion(March Comes in Like a Lion). Honestly, this half day was just as I had wanted, something not at all touristy. We began our walk with the Sumiyoshi Shrine, dating to the 1600s, small but important to the people of this Tsukudajima neighborhood and its history as a fishing village. There is also a remnant of the ferry dock piling; the ferry transporting passengers across and back over the Sumida River until 1964, when a bridge was built in time for the Olympics. As we were approaching the historical description board, an elderly Japanese man came up and motioned excitedly for us to read it because, as he said, “There is English for you.” Nearby, the beautiful bright red bridge, Tsukuda-ko Bridge sits amidst old houses and boats and is a popular spot for artists. Even more tucked away down a nondescript lane is the Buddhist Tsukuda Tenzai Jizoson, the “Guardian Deity of Children” built entirely around an old tree.

Walking around this village that sits beneath the towering residential skyscrapers is a little bit like stepping back in time. The public bathhouses are still maintained; and it is quite common to see elderly Japanese going to and from in the mornings (we saw several). The shops are small, most unlabeled to the naked eye; and some not always attended during the day: it is expected that one respects the honor system. On one corner was the neighborhood funeral director, often seen walking his 30 year-old tortoise, the child he never had. On another corner a trendy Owl Café, where non-perfumed visitors (perfume upsets the owl’s sensibilities) can enjoy coffee in the company of rescued birds of prey. JF did not know of my love of raptors, or otherwise we would have made time for a coffee, alas. Next time.

And that is that. A taxi to Tokyo Station and then the Narita Express to the airport. Two hours at Incheon and the six-hour haul to Singapore (on an A380, so, no complaints). An overnight, or whatever one calls “sleep” in a pod-like airport hotel between the hours of 0200 and 0700. The return leg to Dubai; with three hours to waste there, why not buy the large box of Bateel dates (DD's friend at the American School Dubai has hooked me) and get a manicure? From Dubai it was homeward bound to Vienna. DH met me at the airport, a bouquet of flowers in hand to welcome me home.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for the report! Sounds like a wonderful trip.

What a delightful report! Thank you.

Thank you for sharing. Makes me think about how much I miss Japan.

Loved the whole thread, thanks so much for sharing!

Thanks for taking us all for a fun ride.