In honor of Black Friday, I thought I’d blog about fashion instead of travel today. But since early this morning I have seen nothing but lousy news on cnn and the internet. First the stampede and subsequent death of an employee at Wal-Mart then some shootings at a Toys-R-Us. This is not Black Friday but Blue Friday. This economic crunch we’re all feeling for ourselves and/or our neighbors is festering into a morale malaise. Add random violence on top of it and there’s no room left for the retail excitement that’s supposed to peak at this time of the year. Shopping lethargy has set in for consumers and retailers alike. So it feels hollow to talk about fashion when the national mood is so dour. Even as a self confessed shopaholic, I’ve got the blues. Retail therapy can’t fix retail blues.
What’s happening in the retail industry has definitely changed my shopping routine this year. Usually we would brave the crowds for the 5am door buster at Fry’s for the electronics deals. I’d be the one standing in line while everyone else ran around the store grabbing things on our various checklists. Once this craziness was done, I’d be on my way to Saks or NM for their sales.
But Saks, just like some of its competitors, started its sales early this year so I was already done with all of my shopping by the Monday before Thanksgiving Thursday. On the first day of the presale event (one full week before Thanksgiving Day), the store was packed. Women of all age, race, and fashion sense filled every inch of the store, grabbing designer bags, shoes and clothes as if the store was giving it all away. And in a way it was. Pretty much everything was 70% off except for a few labels like Chanel (rats!). No sooner did I put down a pair of Dior boots did two women grab them at the same time. It was a very tense moment and I didn’t stick around to see who won that wrestling match. Then I was shadowed by a twenty-something who wanted to make sure I’d give her the Gucci anaconda bag I was holding should I decide not to get it. It was an incredible deal for the bag so I could understand her persistence. After about 20 minutes I handed it to her. I don’t shop well with a pleading ball and chain. Her huge smile was the only one I got that day. Sales associates walked around dazed and confused. And scared. And pissed off. They looked like Katrina victims. After all, their store had just been flooded by women who hadn’t been able to shop in a long time, and 70% off was a heck of a way to let them loose. Shopping has lost its fun.
So I witnessed no shopping mobs today. I stayed home and got some work done. Thought I’d blog about Chanel trinkets to begin a whole series on treasured keepsakes, but the news led me to these thoughts here instead. Perhaps I had it right last year. In fact last year was the first time I was out of the country on Black Friday in many, many years. This time last year I was probably in Silk Village, just outside of Hanoi. There are factories and storefronts in this small village. Some stores are literally just small stands extending from someone’s house and others are quite fancy with similar merchandise with a huge markup. I’ll talk about the fabulous silk products I found in another blog, but today I’ll close with some pictures taken at a factory where they raise silk worms, spin the silk threads, and weave it all into fantastic rolls of fabric.
Silk worm cocoons on a twig stand:
How they look up close:
Weaving equipment. Perhaps next time they will allow me to make a little video showing how the equipment is used. Wouldn’t that be cool?
Here’s hoping next Black Friday won’t be so blue.
Tags: Black Friday, cocoon, Gucci, retail, Saks, Silk Village, silk worm
Los Angeles is largely an anti-pedestrian town, so when I travel I try to walk everywhere. By far the best way to get to know a new place (except LA) is usually on foot. This constant movement also provides a guilt-free excuse to eat your way through your destination. And rubbing elbows with the locals over grub is a lot of fun. There are a million stories waiting to be shared between strangers, and no matter how tough the language or cultural barrier may be to you as a tourist, food is usually the common denominator that breaks down that wall.
Chestnuts in Tokyo:
Rice snacks in Tokyo:
Udon in Kyoto:
Almond pretzels in Germany:
Moules frites in Belgium:
Poffertjes in Delft:
Belgian waffle in Dallas:
Tajine in the desert:
Pancakes in Amsterdam:
Gastronomy central. Makes me hungry.
Tags: Amsterdam, Delft, pancake, Poffertjes, Tokyo
Half of the adventure in traveling is sampling local cuisine. This is often a roadblock for me because of all the culinary rules I follow. No bumpy food like octopus or squid tentacles. I can eat squid but no squiggly parts for me. No milk or yogurt or mayo (eww) or butter. Well, a very thin layer of butter on toasted bread is OK. Please make sure the bread is toasted evenly though. Butter soaking in soft spots on the toast blows the entire breakfast, but I digress. When I finally make it to Tibet, I don’t think it’ll be the altitude that kills me but the butter tea. Cheese is ok if it doesn’t crumble or stink like small feet. Fresh coconut juice is awesome but no coconut milk, especially in salty foods like curry or laksa. Definitely no animals that used to make a sound, which basically leaves me with just seafood. Yes, shrimps make noises at the bottom of the ocean but the naked ear usually can’t hear that, so you can throw those shrimps my way. And fish…don’t get me started! I like fish but can’t eat it if there’s still skin showing that I can’t remove. Especially if the scales look snaky. I love a python bag on my shoulder but can’t stomach anything remotely reptilian looking floating around in a soup bowl.
These rules are really tough on the road, especially when requests are lost in translation. I always half expect the waiter to bring out a plate full of squid tentacles in a vat of mayo. But things could be worse if you can’t read this sign below. That’s always my consolation when things go wrong. Things can always be worse, much worse…
But the good news is, for every rule there is an exception. So no meats like beef, chicken or pork but I will eat tripe and gizzards when cooked in certain ways. And believe me, you can always find tripe and chicken liver somewhere around the world. For today, we’ll sample food in Vietnam.
In spite of my peculiarities, I’ve never starved on any of my trips and have only gotten one really bad case of food poisoning. I contracted it in Hanoi and was sidelined for 3 full days as we made our way through Central VN. By the time we arrived in South VN, I was finally human enough to crave food. We wandered into Pho 24, a noodle soup joint in a snazzy part of Ho Chi Minh City. And for the first time in my life I finished a whole bowl of pho. Down to the last drop. I think the heavens even parted and angels sang! That’s what it’s like to enjoy the first real meal after not being able to keep any food down for days. Ever since then, each time I’m in VN I have to stop by a Pho 24 in the hope of experiencing noodle nirvana just once more. There’s a Pho 24 on every block it seems. On my last tour of VN, this chain was launching a reward initiative: buy 5 combo meals (pho + drink) and earn a free motorcycle helmet. Why a helmet and not a free combo meal? Because a helmet law was about to take effect. And because I can now be a walking billboard for this noodle shop:
Especially when you travel around Southeast Asia, you have to wander into local markets and street stalls to get a real sense of the local cuisine. Hawker stands dispensing street food are the best way to enjoy fresh produce, seafood, meat, and exotic fruits. Taste the street food or get yourself invited to someone’s house for true homestyle cooking. Otherwise, the more tourism spreads, the more likely you are only tasting bastardized dishes at fancy restaurants aimed at western travelers. And that’s a real shame. Pop a pepto pill, rub your hands in the antibacterial lotion, check your fears at the door, and point to whatever the local guy next to you is ordering. If the food doesn’t kill you instantly, you will never go back to eating the way you used to.
Beautifully displayed food at a dinner on an overnight junket ride; everything is skillfully carved out of vegetables:
Exotic fruits at a market:
Yours truly chasing down a rambuttan vendor:
I can squat with the best of them, especially for guavas in season:
Vietnamese snacks or junk food:
My two favorite snacks…escargots a la vn…
and crab eggrolls:
My other favorite dish, bun oc (escargot noodle soup)…the spices and herbs are out of this world, but I may be biased:
When I say you have to check your fears at the door, I mean you have to really let go of your paranoia about how the food was prepared and where you sit down to eat. In the moment, I focus on the food and don’t even notice my surroundings until I get home and look at my photos. By then it’s already too late to wonder if the person serving my meal had washed my chopsticks or not. The solution is to bring my own disposable chopsticks at the cost of being eco-unfriendly. But it could be worse, right? What if she didn’t wash her hands at all prior to handling the food? What if that is dirty water where she’s rinsing the bowls that are being handed to me now? And is my food is really being served only a few inches from a dirt floor? This is a photo taken at a very narrow food stall in a wet market alley last November:
And this is an “outdoors cafe” on a side street somewhere in Hanoi…who knew al fresco dining meant sucking up exhaust fumes from the endless motorbikes on the street. And yes, that is unrefrigerated meat behind me. Yes also, you can wash dishes and motorbikes at the same location–how’s that for diversifying your services?
Seriously, do I look worried? I only live once.
Tags: bun oc, escargot, food, Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, pho, Vietnam
There’s particularly good, warm weather the 4 weeks I am in Europe this year, so every weekend I try to find something interesting to do outdoors. On this one Sunday I decide to storm as many castles as possible. Our first stop is Chateau de Freyr, located just outside of the city of Dinant. The castle once sat along the bank of the Meuse river, but presently it merely gazes into it since a thoroughway now runs between the castle and the river, making for an easy exit for visitors. You can see the lovely gardens and orangerie from the road. I can’t wait to visit my first labyrinth!
The main attraction is of course the grounds of the chateau on a clear day, but the tour begins inside the castle, where I find wonderful remnants of the past:
From a hallway window upstairs, I spy the courtyard entrance:
When we finally get outside, the scenery is spectacular:
It’s not really possible to get a picture of the labyrinth unless you are flying above it, so here’s a very jumpy video of what it’s like to run around inside one:
From Freyr we head to Les Jardins d’Annevoie. The estate and gardens of Annevoie have been passed down through generations of the Montpellier family and are now enjoyed by the public. According to the brochure, these gardens incorporate the French style of art correcting nature, the Italian style of art adapting to nature, and the English style of art imitating nature. That’s a charming way to capture how each culture influences and interprets art.
There are two romantic cafes (perfect for Sunday brunch) on-site as you enter from the graveled parking lot. Go past the entrance and you are welcomed by this bridge:
After a welcome like that, you know it can only get better from here.
Unfortunately, this chateau is not open for viewing:
There’s a tombstone with some bittersweet sentiments for you French readers out there:
If it weren’t for the really loud croaking, these frogs would blend right into their element:
I wonder what it must have been like to walk where I now walk, to see what I now see, back in the 18th century. A lot has been done to the grounds since its inception in the 1750s, but I’m certain anyone who once stood in the very spot where I take this picture below must have been equally moved by the generous beauty of this land…
Our third castle, on the contrary, is wide open for viewing. Poilvache is actually a site of what’s left of a medieval castle and fortress. Once a military, administrative, and judicial center of the land of Poilvache, it now sits in ruins bearing witness to its siege and defeat in the mid 1400s.
To get to the site, we park down below and walk through a narrow alley…
and up a steep wooded path for a good 30-minute hike…
….to reach the entrance:
The ruins open up around you in bits and pieces. When you pay the 2 Euros to gain admission, you are provided a handbook with best estimates of what each ruin might have been:
We finally reach the highest point of the citadel and gasp at the view in the horizon:
I step up on the ledge…
and look down…
Come see what I see:
Tags: Belgium, Chateau de Freyr, Dinant, Jardins d'Annevoie, medieval ruins, Poilvache
Bright lights, big city and stars in her eyes. That’s basically me in a nutshell. But show me big sky with miles and miles of unspoiled land and I’d feel even more at home. So when my friend suggests that we go visit his uncle’s farm in Hermetton that afternoon, I’m secretly thrilled. What a marvelous treat it turns out to be for this city girl:
Here I am warming up the goats before they get milked:
Their dog has also just had a litter. I’m thrilled to play with the puppies, especially since I’m so homesick for my two cats at this point in the trip:
I’d planned on also posting about storming the castle in this post but I’ll save it for another time. I’m having some fashion emergencies (will discuss more about that in a separate blog) today so have to sign off for now.
