Food of the People

As a lover of food, and a lover of travel, I am of the opinion that generally the best food is 'the food of the people'. And by that, I mean the food that is ubiquitous, fresh, and inexpensive. This ideal has rarely failed me in my quest for international gastronomic sustenance (with Vietnamese Pho being the most glaring exception - don't get it on the street). We all know 'wanna be like the local' creed: Find the Italian's pizza joint in Rome, the Nepalese streetcart samosa, the Chinese restaurant with all the smiling Chinese inside. And usually that place isn't inside hotels or swank restaurants; its the street side stalls, the no frills restaurants, the 'dives' that you always see, smell and, depending on who you are, think either "gosh that smells great" or "everyone who eats there gets sick, its a fact". You can bet I'm in the former category - I love the food of the people.

As I mentioned, the food of the people is cheap and no frills, which is why I'm so fascinated by New York's culinary scene. If 'the food of the people' is usually served from streetcarts, then New York, as you may know, is one amazingly diverse place. Having gradually evolved culinarily from the dirty hot dog and salty pretzel capital of the world (not to be confused with Bavaria, the sausage and awesome capital of the world), New York now finds itself blessed with streetcarts as diverse as the summer is hot. Next to my office is a Jamaican cart, selling jerk, stewed, and curried chicken with beans, rice and fried plantains. Not your style? What about southern BBQ at a cart 2 blocks over? Or Mexican? Not feeling well, try some spicy chicken ramen, from one of 3 ramen carts nearby. Or go to the organic fresh cart for a vegetable and mozzarella crepe. I could go on endlessly, Indian curry, Korean bbq, Chinese dumplings, German schnitzel and don't even try to count the number of gyro carts there are. And the selections aren't just limited to entrees - there is even a Belgian waffle cart. Of course this is in addition to the myriad of sushi and pizza places the city already boasts of.

All the carts have their own personality. Some return to the same place every day, staking a claim to their turf. Others rotate, in a different location around the city each day, requiring you to cross reference the day of the week, the time and a tidal chart for the Mediterranean, just to be sure your food will be there when you are. There is even a yearly event, The Vendies, where the top street carts come together to be judged, with a champion being crowned "best in the city".

With all this diversity in street food, I can't help but marvel at what it means for the diversity of the city. The immigrant story rings true, "with the people come their food". And most of their food has been embedded and put on the street, making it "our food". What luck to live in a city with a diversity of people and culinary traditions to service whatever craving I could have. It's a far cry from the old hot dog and pretzel days for this city. Well, unless you go to the Bavarian cart because there, yup, you can get an awesome sausage.

Another Tick on the Great Restaurant List

So far I haven't written much about food in New York. Well, really, I haven't written much about anything in New York, but it's time to start. It there is one thing I love, its food. Now, working in New York allows me to eat plenty of food every day for lunch, but if I'm going to start with New York Food, I feel I should start at the top. This past week I went out with my work group to Peter Luger's Steak House - one of the finest steak houses in the city.

Located in Brooklyn under the shadow of the Willamsburgh, Peter Luger is a New York institution. Famous for great steak and bad service, they've been rated Zagat's best steakhouse in New York for who knows how many years. This place is a notorious haunt for the Wall St. types, in part because it isn't easy to get to. The interior has that startlingly plane decor you find in places not trying to obscure its food - white walls, wood floors, plain white linen and dozens of plane, yet beautiful, chandeliers. This place is all about the food.

And the food is terrific. Going out with my high-earning co-workers, or at least co-workers who earn more than I, afforded us the opportunity to order practically half the menu. Admittedly, steak is the word, the star, the alpha and omega, but Luger's other offerings aren't slouches either. The shrimp in the shrimp cocktail are massive, the cream spinach is... well it was the only vegetable on the table and was probably 50% butter, so needless to say it was delicious. And I can see some people shaking their heads thinking that's disgraceful, one measly pseudo-vegetable in a rich red-meat meal, but I didn't go to New York's premiere steakhouse to eat salad, so hesh-up.

I could tell you the steak was sublime -a massive plate of meat cooked perfectly medium rare and served family style with its own juices drizzled over the top - but I'd rather mention the shockingly good bacon. Thickly cut and bursting with flavor, it was so good I forgot it cost $3 a strip while I ate it.

Make no mistake, this meal wasn't cheap. In fact, it was the most expensive meal I've ever eaten, tipping the scales at just under $100. Yet, when I compare the taste of the food, the quality of the wine and the experience of it all, I can't help but feel it was worth it. Another tick mark in the great restaurant list.

Would I go again? Maybe - but probably just as an excuse to cross over the Williamsburgh bridge again. Man, what a view!

Where the action is

I've been searching for things to do in New York City. The usual tourist haunts abound, but one can really only 'see the sights' so many times before they will want to take a more active role. I've scoured webpages; I've taken surveys; I've searched books. In the city that never sleeps, there must be things for a guy like me: a history, culture loving traveler who is trying to save a buck.

Initially I was perpetually disappointed, thwarted by the same old haunts appearing again and again - Time Square, Radio City, Broadway (which are great, but which I'm also fortunate enough to pass every day on my way to the office).

The museums are world class, but the costs prohibit dropping in casually. Then again, many have 'pay what you want' hours or days. These specials allow the viewing public to choose their fare, be it $1 to $1000. Of course any visitor who pays less than full fare must deal with the blank stares of confusment from the ticket sellers, who play dumb until you confess that you 'only want to pay $5, even though the museum suggests $20."

What I was looking for was things like I know about in Boston. Things like the Scooperbowl, a charity event where there are dozens of ice cream brands competing to give you the most ice cream they can! Or the Walk for Hunger. Or even visiting Wilson Farm in the fall for a fresh Apple Cider Doughnut. Nobody I spoke with in New York could tell me about events like this. A few said Christmas time was special, but that seems to go without saying. Of course Christmas is special. I've been searching for special events throughout the year.

Today after work I walked down 6th Ave, which led me to Bryant Park and a free jazz concert, when it hit me - New York must have so many special things going on it's hard to keep track. There isn't any one or two big events each weekend everyone goes to, there are hundreds of smaller ones I just need to find. Signs in Bryant Park alone advertised Movies in the Park, jazz concerts, morning Tai Chi lessons and fencing. And just last week I stumbled across a street food festival in Times Square. Advertised events might be harder to find here, but all I'll need to do is walk around and I'm bound to find something. Besides, I should be out walking around, not poking about the internet looking up where to go... in fact, why are we both still here? I'm going out, you should too!

A Nice Spot

History book after history book extols the many splendid virtues, benefits, and wonderment of New York's geography. These books tell us that when Henry Hudson came upon his most famous discovery, the fields were green, the forests lush, and fawns played lutes softly beside bubbling brooks. Most agree that the deep harbor enable the location to be a shipping magnet, before the sturdy, accessible bedrock beneath Manhattan allowed the rise of great towers to support the cities primary interest: business. I have yet to see a book which didn't credit New York's fame and good fortune to it's unique geography.

Or for a more personal view, you could talk to any of the millions people who commute into the city each day. Like candles to a flame, tourists to a gift store or Dan to a brownie sundae, cities and towns have sprung up around New York, each pulling the tentacles of New York Metropolitan transportation further and further out. Aside from commutes terminating in New York, another shared aspect of many of these cities is proximity to the sea. Perhaps you're a fan of casino's or want to still claim to be a New Englander (despite rooting for the Yankees). Well, we've got oceanfront property in Port Chester to Stamford to Norwalk. Or if the TV shows have you wearing your hair big and rockin' out to Bon Jovi, New Jersey has ample shoreline for you too. Then again, you might be a New York purist, and prefer to live and work in the same state, so Long Island, with miles of soft sand beaches could be your choice. With so much oceanfront property in the region, New York benefits again.

But I'm really here to bring up the geographic benefit I've been seeing lately; it's smack-dab in the middle of the Eastern Seaboard. Being poor, as young travelers should be, I find myself gravitating to travel by bus. It's cheap and easy, plus they have wireless Internet now so I can write dibble like this for you while moving at 65... ugh, traffic, make that 20 miles per hour. Whatever the speed, it's relatively simple to get wherever I want to go, quickly and cheaply. Last weekend I returned to Boston. This weekend I swung through Washington, DC. Pretty much any major city on the Eastern Seaboard is accessible within a few hours on the bus. How had I never realized how much better it would be to live in the middle, instead of at the end? Aside from being the destination for other travelers, it seems to be a great departure point for it's own people!

I tell you I'd be positively giddy with excitement about this discovery, except that all this time on the bus has zapped most of my energy. Plus we have a long way to go before we reach Manhattan, all those cities up and down the East coast have brought traffic to a crawl. I think I'll relax and read my book about how great the New York Harbor is. Or maybe I'll gaze out the window at the passing sea. Just kidding... the Jersey turnpike goes nowhere near it's beautiful ocean.

Bouncing Back

I'm not predisposed to like New York. Let's face it; down in my heart, cultivated since birth, there is a deeply embedded bias against the city because it is home to a certain baseball team. As a result, fair or not, accurate or not, I've used that starting excuse to draft a mental tableau of ills that plague the city. Sure, maturity, personal experience and Big Papi have helped dissuade these irrational perceptions, but I'll confess that just a mere year ago I was saying, "there's no way I'd live in New York. It's too... big/dirty/dingy/self-centered/full of Yankee fans. Yet, here I am.

Off the bat, I'm pleased to report that most of my remaining prejudices have proven false as George Washington's teeth. In fact, my first weeks there have left me deeply impressed with numerous things, including it's resilience.

New York has seen terrorism, and I haven't. To be honest, I've always felt pretty secure because: (a) nobody is going to attack suburban Lexington because it's not an economic center, (b) nobody would dare attack Shanghai, let alone know how, and (c) nobody would attack Boston when New York is a more appealing target.

Then, one week into my New York Experiment, someone puts a car bomb in Times Square. Thankfully, we were spared disaster, but that doesn't alter the fact that 7 blocks from my office sat a terrifying weapon of destruction.

48 hours later, I walked through the area on my way home from work. I expected thin crowds, an aura of hesitancy, the unease of vigilance, people looking over their shoulders. There was none of that. The place was packed with tourists and suits. Nobody looked concerned, nobody looked upset. It was business as usual for all the bag sellers, professional sign holders and street cart hawkers. Taxis, buses and subways ran on time. The city seemed to have moved on from the attempt. What struck me even more was that week at work, it wasn't the hot button topic of conversation. People had other things to talk about - the Dow and Cinco de Mayo festivities.

Compare that to Boston, where a few years back the evening commute was disrupted when light-bright signs, in a guerrilla marketing campaign for the TV show Aqua Teen Hunger Force, were mistaken for possible explosives. Not only did the city come to a near screeching halt, but everyone was talking about it for days to come. I know the news is making a much bigger deal of the Times Square attempted bomb, and rightfully so, but I personally saw more public interest in Boston about a night-light attack, than in New York after a bomb scare.

I can't help but marvel at the contrast, and at New York's ability to bounce back. It's like the city, known for it's cynicism, is wrapped in a blanket of optimism about these things, focusing on the positives (the heroes of the day, nobody getting hurt) and glossing-over the obvious negatives (there was a bomb in Times Square). The city has seen much worse. I don't know what the city felt, what it went through, how it recovered, how it bonded in the fall of 2001, and I don't see how I could. I never properly realized exactly how important, how galvanizing those months were for the city. The result is a city far stronger, far more prepared, far more resilient than I expected. The type of city that can come back from after loosing the first 3 games of the playoffs to win the last 4... or something like that,

A New Begining

I'm starting up my blog again. Writing helps me process my world, allows me to see it, gives me cause to examine it. When I'm writing my blog the mundane becomes exciting; sights my mind would gloss over become fascinating vignettes. Life is more interesting when you contemplate it.

I no longer live in Shanghai, and I'm no longer traveling. I have started a job in New York City, while living a bit further outside the city in New Jersey. This can never be as foreign as Shanghai, and because of that perhaps my revival will be a bit of a boar, and certainly a blog about New York life is far, far from a new idea, but I hope this blog will be amusing, if nothing else.

When I speak of my impressions of Shanghai, I always talk about "Dan's Shanghai", which was different from everyone else's Shanghai. I went to my restaurants, my parts of the city. I did things I thought were interesting, and had a fascinating job to boot! But make no mistake, "Dan's Shanghai" and the Shanghai of my students would have likely seemed very, very different.

In that light, I hope to write about "Dan's New York". I'll confess I expect it to be riddled with information about commuting from central Jersey, eating from street carts around my office and the changing of the seasons. It may be mundane, it may be boring, but it'll be my life, and as I slow down to study it, it might become my New York.

The Safety of Thailand

Before and during my trip, I would receive emails and warnings from my parents, cautioning me about the dangers of travel in Thailand because of the 'riots and unrest'. I could scarcely keep myself from laughing sometimes, not because of mom and dad's concern, which was touching, but at what they were concerned with. Thailand was far and away the safest country we visited on our trip; they're even democratic! (contrary to rumors, I did not say, 'smells like freedom', when I crossed the boarder into Thailand). Of course I'm not naive enough to believe that simply being democratic makes a country safer, just ask any of my friends who've been mugged in D.C. It's just that when the other countries I visited were... let's just say 'fast and loose' with laws, Thailand comes out smelling like roses.

Not getting a warning about Cambodia was simply amusing because it was far and away the most dangerous. It's desperately poor country, rife with corruption, and they are still reeling from a genocide more resent than our Vietnam War, but generally these days it doesn't make the news much, so it's trouble aren't on peoples minds.

How bad is it there? One night when we were on the beach in Shianoukville we went to the bars on the beach for drinks. Suddenly, around midnight, the music shut off. We were very confused, because all day there had been people passing out fliers on the beach promoting a party at the bar, drumming up interest and such, but here they were killing the music at midnight. When it didn't turn back on after a bit we walked up the bar and struck up a conversation with the westerners who worked at the bar. It seems that starting 2 nights before the police had come to every bar on the beach at midnight and ordered the music turned off, throwing bottles at one bar and waving their pistol in the air at the next. Nobody wanted to offend the bottle throwing, pistol waving policemen, so the music stayed silent for another half hour. By then someone had enough whisky courage to turn the music back on, abit very low. Within a few minutes a shadowy policeman appeared on the sand, calling over the manager, carrying his AK47 rifle strapped to his back. The music turned off, everyone went home. Nobody argues with a policeman with a rifle.

It's this story I reflect upon when I think of dangers in South East Asia. My boat accidents and motorcycle fall were either self inflicted or due to lax standards, but the potential for an unhinged cop to wave a deadly weapon at a bar for playing music too loud brings uncertainty to a higher level. I never felt unsafe in that way in Thailand, which is why I'm always so amused by my warning over peaceful Thai protests, when there were much bigger, scarier fish in the sea.

Why I avoid boats

I promised you 5, and somehow I'm guessing traveling internationally with swine flu about doesn't count (besides, it would seem to be hitting the US much harder than Thailand anyway). Allow me to quickly breeze through the two least exciting near death moments, because frankly they weren't that close...

The first was on the Thai island of Ko Tao, where the idiots running our snorkeling tour parked the boat at high tide, but then found themselves beached when we tried to leave at low tide. Myself and the other members of the top deck had to suddenly rush to one side of the boat and throw our weight about, because as they gunned the motor it caused the boat to pitch so far that tipping over and capsizing was a very legitimate possibility. We lived, eventually the boat got unstuck, and aside from about 3 really terrifying seconds, this is a pretty terrible story.

The other snoozer of a catastrophe was returning from Ko Tao back to the mainland. Do you remember those stories about ferries in Thailand sinking to the bottom of the ocean with all the tourists aboard? Well, we were scheduled to go on exactly that type of easily sunk ferry - in the middle of a rainstorm at that. We lucked out because we had prepurchased train tickets, so when our sinkable boat was going to get us to the train late, they transferred us to the high speed catamaran. Relieved not to be in the boat with the 50/50 shot of sinking, I can't tell you how elated we were to be in the sturdy, new and totally enclosed fast boat. Yes we did suffer from seasickness, but when the boat drops over 15 foot waves, I guess thats what you expect. I'll take a little seasickness over sinking anyday.

That's 4, there is only one left, and thankfully it's better than the last two. I could see your eyes glazing over in the last two stories as you thought, "Dan, this isn't 'near death', you lame-o. This is maybe a little scary, but don't sell these as near death." And I think I agreed with you. Thankfully, the last one is a doozie. What could possibly have put me so close to the brink of existence? A Mekong River Cruise!!

Alright, cruise is the wrong word. Due to circumstances we needed to get from the Laos/Thai boarder to the city of Luang Prabang quickly. The options were (a) 14 hour bus ride through windy mountain roads, (b) a 2 day boat trip down the river, or (c) a one day boat trip down the river. Option (a) was bad because Adrienne gets motion sick and we would have arrived at 2 in the morning. Option (b) was bad because, like I said, we needed to get there quickly. This left option (c), which was bad because, well let me quote the Lonely Planet Guide: "Fastboats are not the safest transport south, and fatalities are not uncommon. When we passed there was even talk of banning foreigners from these boats." Oh yeah, and it had been raining all morning. We chose (c).

Imagine a long, fast wooden boat with a giant prop motor sitting on the back. All the luggage is piled in the front of the boat, under a few blue tarps to keep them dry, while the 8 passengers are arranged 2 by 2. They sit on the bottom of the boat, with their arms clutching their knees, because there is no space to spread out, not even to sit cross-legged. All of them are wearing life vests and helmets (as if that would save them in a crash). Now imagine the driver whizzing them along at speeds of near 50 mph. This was our boat.

As dangerous as that sounds, it gets worse - the river was terrifying. I've been whitewater rafting, even gone on some class 4 rapids, but I've never seen a river with real whirlpools. The currents in this river were going every which way, all at once, which meant our little boat got pushed around, bouncing over depressions and sinkholes. Yet as any raft guide will tell you, it isn't the currents that kill you, it's the rocks that make the currents (at least that's what I think the guides should say...). Scattered along the entire 5 hour trip were scores of large, jagged rocks sticking up everywhere! We would weave in and out, dodging them along with the driftwood and trees dislodged by the heavy rain. We even stopped to help another small boat like us file out a chink in it's propeller because they'd struck a rock! It goes without saying that any actual collision with these rocks, traveling at those speeds would have been certain death, helmet or no.

Thankfully we made it. We even had entertainment! On our boat was an Englishman who lives in Thailand, but was taking a month of vacation with his friend. He had decided they would take the fastboat down river, but to muster the courage after reading the Lonely Planet bit, he began to relieve the contents from a bottle of rice whiskey. Having finished a full 12 oz bottle before boarding the boat, it came as no surprise when he refused to wear his helmet, went swimming with his passport in his pocket, and fell in. Twice. Had we gone the way of the Dodo, at least we would have died laughing. Thankfully, we didn't.

Falling off the bar

I promised 5 near death experiences. The truth is none of the rest are nearly as exciting; in fact 3 of them involved boats. The helplessness of a person on a boat is nearly equal to that of a person on a airplane, however boating accidents are way more common. Sure I can swim, hell I used to be a lifeguard, but when the seas can swallow a winabago and not even burp even Michael Phelps new suit couldn't save him. Thankfully these are called 'near death experiences'.

The first boating accident occured in Cambodia, off the coastline of Shianoukville. We'd chosen a windy, windy day to go out snorkelling (which we couldn't do, because it was windy), on a beautiful river boat. The problem with a 'river boat' on ocean swells is... it's prone to tip over!!! Mercifully, it didn't, but the boat was rocking so hard 'Pearl Jam' would have been jealous. The bartender told us "don't worry, but for your safety you should hold onto the bar so you don't tip off your stool." And it would have been good advice had not three waves later the bar litterly lifted off, broke in two and sent me hurtling to the floor in a cumble of glass, dishes and bar stools. Meanwhile, the boat chose not to stop pitching, making removal from the rubble rather difficult. In the end I escaped with only a small piece of glass caught in my foot (removed by a nurse who happened to be aborad). I had escaped a near death experience!

I should have taken the hint and stayed off boats for the rest of the trip, but I didn't. I got on boats again and again and again...

5 Near Death Experiences

I've been remiss. Let me start with an email from my brother:

Hey hermano

you break your fingers in that moto accident? cant write email? im glad to hear you are well, even if it is only through what mom and dad tell me.

just cuz you are in an OECD country you think you dont have to make blog posts anymore? you aren't on a honeymoon or anything, i expect intelligent analysis of foreign cultures, comic retellings of common day activities and exquisite exposés on ethnic gastronomy.

sorry for the accusational tone above, i hope you are having a good time, and im just curious as to what my big bro bro is up to.

have you put any shrimp on the barbie? had a fosters? gotten in a boxing fight with a kangaroo? found nemo?

Toodles,

Nick

ps new yorker and atlantic monthly both have all their content available online. hours of high brow entertainment and education. if ya know you need a rest from seeing the world and just want to read about it instead.

Nick, you are right, I haven't fulfilled my duty as blogwritter these past many weeks. I hope that it isn't too late to change that. I vow to write a new post in my blog every day (or nearly every day) for the next 10 days! And more beyond that! I'll write about Asia! I'll write about Australia!! I'll try to provide pictures!

I suppose the first thing I need to address is my brothers reference to a moto accident. It is true that indeed I did have an itsy bitsy motorbike accident, but as I said to my parents - no broken bones and I survived, which is the important thing, right?

The story of the accident isn't super interesting. I was in Laos, having left Adrienne behind in the city of Luang Prabang, while I ventured on to Phonsavan for a day. We were only sepereated for about 60 hours and only because Adrienne didn't relish the idea of the extra 9 hours on the bus my side-jaunt would take. In short, the accident happened while I was alone!

Phonsovan is famous for 2 things: (1) it was the most heavily bombed provence in Laos during the Vietnam War [and Laos has been the most heavily bombed country on earth, thanks to the 'secret war' the US waged contiuously as its efforts in Vietnam], and (2) it is home to 'The Plain of Jars', which was what really enticed me. To sum up 'Da Jars' in brief: A field full of mysterious stone jars, older than Christ and origionally created for unknown purposes - a veritable asian Stonehendge. Bombs and Old stuff; that's how I travel.

Obviously I needed to get onto a motorbike inorder to crash it - so upon arriving I met a fellow traveler (who happened to own and ride a motorcycle back home in England) who convinced me to skip the lame tour groups and ride a bike and see everything on my own. The next morning we set out for a 30 mile ride out to see a cave which had been bombed out, killing everyone inside over 30 years ago. The ride out was beautiful, the cave somber and the return trip disasterous. We agreed upon leaving the cave to meet back in town for lunch at 'the indian restaurant'. About 5 minutes down the road the experienced rider sped on ahead and left me behind. Not 3 minutes later than rounding a turn did I come in too fast, panic, break incorrectly (with the hand break, not the superior footbreak) and skid out into a pile of gravel.

Surprised and relieved to still be alive, I quickly concluded nothing hurt that much, but the discompashionate cars which drove pass annoyed me. Would nobody stop of a crashed motorcyclist? Someone did - the owner of my hotel who was driving the tour group I'd shunned in favor of a motorcycle trip. He hopped out, helped me up, checked out me and my bike - I assured him I was fine but was more concerned for the bike [breaking them is terribly expensive]. After satisfying his concerns, the hotel owner drove on and I gingerly hopped back on my bike to drive back to town.

I was lucky. Very, Very Lucky. I had some scrapes on my knees, which looked worse than they were thanks to the blood they poured onto my pants. My left elbow got it worst, which the next day I went to the hospital to have cleanned professionally. And the bike landed on my foot giving me a limp for a few days, but nothing serious, nothing long lasting, nothing unlucky.

But I still hadn't seen my jars. After returning to town, I cleaned myself up with my first aid kit, had a rest then met up with my travel buddy to head out to see 'Da Jars'. We got to two of the 3 sights (the best two, by rumor) and were awed by the idea. To be honest they don't blow you away like Stonehendge, but jars aren't as exciting as precariously balanced rocks; that's just a reality. It was still cool and to prove I made it there:

So, in retrospect perhaps I shouldn't have gotten a motorcycle, or at least I shouldn't have driven so fast. But as they say in South East Asia: "You haven't done South East Asia until you've had 5 near death experiences." That's one, stay tuned for the rest of the list!