Of All Things Toast-Worthy: Beer, Bagels, & British Bikers

Perhaps it is no stretch to suggest an American preoccupation with beer, bagels, and bikers.

But picture for me an American eating a bagel somewhere in Belgium, while sipping beer imported from Bolivia, simultaneously browsing the Dutch-language television channels only to happen upon a travel/cooking show hosted by a British biker-duo as they peruse through major sites across India.

In this globalized world of ours, I would not be entirely shocked to find such a combination.
And it could well happen if you know where to look in Brussels. Hence, the following submission.

And please pay no mind to the overwhelming--though hopefully not bothersome--bombardment of b's, as Brussels, Belgium, and Beckers (the street upon which I live), have a subconscious and contagious effect on me.


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Behold the Beer and Bars of Brussels, Belgium


Below is a quick word or few on local watering holes of honorable mention, accompanied by a list of the beers and krieks I have tried--or at least remember trying--upon moving to Brussels.

Delirium Café
Impasse de la Fidélité 4A
[city centre, down a small alleyway, just opposite of Jeanneke Pis--not to be confused with Manneken Pis]
http://www.deliriumcafe.be/

Are you jones'n for a beer or cider not found in your local supermarket? Care to browse a phone-book size listing of brews from your A to V's? (Angola to Vietnam, that is)
 
Sounds deleterious--wait, I mean delirious. Doesn't it?

Delirium is by no means representative of a traditional Belgian café or brasserie. But it certainly exists as one of the only places to find locals and tourists in harmonious intoxication year round.

The atmosphere in the cave is, as one would expect, quite dark, perhaps a tad damp, and yes, teeming with metaphorical rats. Beware the former wine casks that serve as your tables, as their tops are often warped and leave your drink vulnerable to spill with the gentlest of nudges.



Also pay mind to petty thieves and the unfortunate aggressive drones who, at the slightest of accidental eye contact made, will gladly fasten themselves to you for the remainder of the evening as they engage in a sinewous attempt to take you home.  












For better results, try the ground floor just to the right of the entrance. The tables are much more stable, the air cleaner, the decor chipper, and the general disposition of patrons on this floor is less intrusive.

So why venture to the cave, you ask? Well, each floor serves a different beer on tap (of which there are 25+ per floor). Osmosis of the crowd, I suppose.

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La Morte Subite [The Sudden Death]
Rue Montagne aux Herbes Potagères 7 
[city centre, just east of La Bourse]


Characterized as a traditional Belgian brasserie and famous for its own brand of beers and krieks, I present unto you La Morte Subite. The art-nouveau accents are mildly indicative of what you might find in Ixelles or Etterbeek communes of Brussels. They certainly coordinate well with the vaulted ceiling and interior walls draped with mirrors spotted from age. 

At some point during your visit, I also suggest that you take the grand staircase to the first floor and look over the railing to gaze down upon the handful of waiters bustling about in synchronized, maddening motion. And it is only from above that the spectacle below resembles a giant art-nouveau game of frogger as each server, tray of drinks in hand, miraculously darts across aisles congested with bumbling tourists too entranced by the decor to pay notice.

Ready your appetite for traditional croques, sandwiches, sausages, cheese platters, and omelets. But let's be quite honest here. You really just wanted to sample the beer. And so I have provided you a front-seat view of the bar:

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Café Belga
Eugène Flageyplein 18

[Place Flagey, just south of Frites Flagey]

Come aboard this little beauty and discover why I made La Belga my local favorite. It is almost cafeteria-like in its design, with food and drinks ordered at separate counters and carried back to your table in trays. But there is a familial, coffee house, "perfect for sunday brunch" touch to the place different from the days of Morrison's.

The food selection varies--with soups, salads, sandwiches, and other cold appetizers always present, and at a price that is most reasonable. Then, there is the added bonus of a non-smoking interior, coupled with live jazz and d.j. nights interspersed throughout the week. You can find a small selection of beers on tap and a few more provided in bottle, but I recommend the mint tea; a warm cup of freshly steamed herbs, with customary spekulaas in hand, makes for quite the content Kat.

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Goupil le Fol [The Mad Fox]
Rue de la Violette 22
[city centre, due east of the Grand Place]

Think estate sale of the most eclectic, eccentric, and maybe even ecclesiastical. Wind your way up a seriously narrow circular staircase to discover that no wall or ceiling of the establishment's four floors is without ornamentation. I am especially fond of their house made fruit wines and a juke box of whose musical menu is a prismatic reflection of the decor.   

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Le Poechenellekelder [The House of Marionettes]

Eikstraat 5
[city centre, opposite of Manneken Pis]

Disarm your spell check. This is a Bruxelloise word, hence a combination of French and Dutch.

I mentioned a bar well-known for its marionette decor in a previous submission on Toone Theater. This particular cafe, just minutes away from Toone, also teems with marionnettes. Though, to be fair, there is a more pronounced emphasis on Manneken Pis.

Same as A La Morte Subite, small dishes can be ordered. Their beer selection is quite extensive, bordering 100+. I have also included a photograph of their Christmas menu. Note the generous alcohol content. Tis the season to be jolly...

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Beers in Belgium: A case study

I included "Freelance Researcher" on my name card with good reason, as this short list might serve you well--with the assumption, of course, that 1) our preferences align and 2) these particular beverages are geographically available to you for purchase.



Recommended without hesitation: 


Gueuze Jacobins:
Finally, a gueuze worth guzzling! I wrote before of my negative reception towards gueuze, the lambic beer made famous by the Belgians. But it seems as though this particular gueuze (of which a student of the French Revolution would naturally choose) is without that tangy, bitter, bite--perhaps uncharacteristic of the Jacobins, as some historians might suggest.

Delirium Nocturum:
I usually keep an arm's distance when it comes to ales and stouts, but this was chosen on accident. And as luck would have it, my taste-buds received it well. Perhaps it gives hope for those less inclined to choose a darker brew.

Leffe Brune:
A good friend recommended this Leffe--which coincidentally enough--played a role in the French Revolution!  Well, not exactly...but the brewery supposedly fell victim to the hands of revolutionaries in 1794. In any case, it is deliciously smooth and inviting. 

Tripel Karmeleit
A gentle caramel taste does a body good. But to have such a drink with a deceptively high alcohol content of 8% would do a body harm, don't you think?


Trappists: Orval, Chimay Bleue, and Chimay Blanche
Brewed by monks of the Trappist order, these ales are delicious in their own right. And with as much as 7-11% alcohol by volume...well, perhaps there is a fair balance in a life of devout spiritual devotion and celibacy.

Floris Passion Fruit:
True to its name, some might find its sweet disposition a bit too passionate for their tastes. Indeed, its aroma is quite strong, but I find its taste to be mild in proportion to its scent. Then again, I can never pass on anything passion fruit, so I'm admittedly biased.


St. Louis Kriek

Of all the krieks sampled thus far (including Morte Subite, Floris, and Lindeman's), this particular mark tops the sundae. Trust me with this morello-cherry tangy concoction with just enough sweet to make you pucker up for more. 

Faro
A lambic cider with a caramelized tint, which is only customary for having been made from brown sugar and molasses. Think dry, yet with a mild hint of the sweet we Americans are accustomed to with ciders of the Woodchuck and Hornsby varieties.

Duvel
A Flemish brew with a name derived from the dutch word for "devil." And tempt you, it just might.

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Ehh...one time at most. Or better yet, settle for a sip of your acquaintance's
[I suggest your acquaintance simply because friends don't let friends spend money on the following beverages.]

La Chouffe Blonde:
A slightly dry blonde, but nothing exceptional. The label is quite cute, so adding to its appeal.

Floris Pomme (apple):
It was a bit chewy, as if you carbonated a diluted solution of  apple compote and evaporated all the flavor you might expect from a fruit lambic. 






Floris Cactus:
There is a lot of hype and expectation surrounding this one, but I was disappointed to find that it was more akin to a panache than anything else.






Vedett Blonde:
A safe choice. And a slice of lemon adds to the experience, but then again, I'm always one for adding a little fiber or 100% real fruit juice to my diet.

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If you are a gastronomic masochist:

Pink Killer:
Yes, by far the most ill-satisfying of my choices. Its color and taste are fairly reminiscent of soap in the mouth.

Mystic Citron Vert:
If someone hands you a tarte au citron vert, take it. It should taste something like key lime pie. But if someone were to offer you a Mystic Citron Vert, you'll know to politely decline. Watery, panache-y, and essentially a waste of your hard-earned caloric intake.

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Onto a subject of a different grain!
 
The State of Bagels in Brussels


As with France, Belgian boulangeries and patisseries procreate on a daily basis. Exaggerate, I do not.  They really have a way of dotting every street corner, alongside snack and alimentation shops or pharmacies. And while many people can (and do) appreciate a pain au chocolat or tarte aux frambroises, those stricken with contemptible gall bladders just cannot enjoy most butter-laden carbohydrate fabrications like the rest.

And then there are those who desire something with a little more fibrous "oomph" than a customary baguette.

So what is one left to do? Find a whole wheat bagel and some schmear, of course! Hence, my quest.

Without choice, bagels exist as part of my staple diet. I credit my parents for having us spend every Sunday morning at the Bagel Bar in Miami Lakes, circa 1989-1994. But, regardless, reason should have it that, when bagels become hardly accessible, nay impossible to find, my hunger pangs naturally begin. So I find myself trying to satiate this craving in Brussels, cream cheese or not.

I stumbled upon only four shops in my quest, two of which I dined at so far:

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Sens Bagel
62 rue Armand Campenhout, 1050 Ixelles, Brussels, Beglium
(near the intersection of Avenue Louise and Rue du Magistrat)


If you have the hankering for a bagel and drink combination, with only 5 euros in your pocket to spare, there is hope in the form of Sens.

Je me sens [I feel] like a bagel, and perhaps it is this exact sentiment Sens Bagel projects onto innocent passersby with this hearty, humousy handful.

They serve only four kinds of bagels (plain, wheat, poppy, and sesame--of which they bake on-site), yet there is a lengthy two-column list of toppings (including the ever-elusive cream cheese) and a good handful of  sandwich creations (ham, chicken, salmon, oh--and hamburger, too).

Seating is made available on the terrace or tucked away inside where large mirrors greet you. The interior is quite intimate, with space made available for maybe twenty people at most. However, I am not particularly fond of the patio-like furniture that somehow found its way into the interior dining area. The all-white and stainless steel decor also offers an air of sterility that I found a tad uninviting. But regardless, the establishment is certainly clean and the staff courteous.


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Les Gens Que J'Aime
Rue du Midi 15-17, 1000 Brussels, Belgium
(just south of La Bourse in the city centre)


If you should want to consume an everything bagel, or perhaps one baked from pureed olives, take a detour from your tour of the city center. Awaiting you at at Les Gens Que J'Aime is a list of gourmet bagel sandwiches. A toasted bagel, in combination with creamy brie and crunchy apple (drizzled in honey, no less) makes for a contrast of the senses that I have since developed a dangerous craving for.

The staff was the most inviting I have witnessed in all my dining experiences in Brussels thus far. And there is a certain charm that overtakes you when walking into a dining area littered with wooden school chairs from the 70s. The ambiance is definitely warmer than Sens, and their hours more accommodating (with food served from noon to well past ten in the evening).

**There are still two more establishments that I have yet to try: 1) The Coffee Company, just outside my school, and 2) a coffee/bagel establishment of whose name escapes me, located just opposite Luxembourg Station.**

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Oh--
And in case you were anxious about the bagel situation in Japan, surprised was I to find a plethora of local options.

Find your way to the refrigerated section of the grocery store and bagels await you somewhere between the pizza dough and ready-to-eat naan. They came individually wrapped in the following flavors (can you really label a bagel a flavor?): caramel, strawberry, berry-berry, mango, and chocolate. Oh, yeah, and plain was thrown in there somewhere, too.

If mango is not quite adventurous enough, try the bagel store at the basement of the JR Funabashi station. There, you can boast to your friends for having tried raisin pumpkin or green tea with white chocolate chunks. Then, if you should care to brave the madness that is Costco on a Saturday afternoon, you can purchase the ever-American Einstein's brand of cinnamon raisin, plain, onion, and cheese.

Or, if all else fails--perhaps this will satisfy you well enough:
when bagel supplies decline...

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A Reincarnation of the Two Fat Ladies--still British, still biking, just a different gender

Have you really made it this far in your reading?!
Thank you, devoted reader! To commend your dedicated efforts, I have provided a small clip of the visual kind, should your attention be waning.

Remember days of yonder Food Network TV when Yan Can Cook, Two Hot Tamales, and Two Fat Ladies reigned supreme?

Meet my recent discovery: The Hairy Bikers.
Keep an ear out for those harefooted similes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgQYBqO9q-8

Enjoy!

For the Love of Frites!

** [Addendum Alert] **

Forget all that you are about to read regarding Frites Flagey.

I  just visited the friterie at Place Jourdan--for the sake of research, if you will.

And it certainly reigns supreme--in taste and texture, but not necessarily wait-time.

Plus, the surrounding area is quite beautiful and littered with charming cafes from which you can enjoy your frites alongside a drink of choice.

But enjoy this excerpt anyway!

For the Love of Frites!

There sits a metal stand painted cream and forest green, best described as unassuming. Its interior is no bigger than your average white, unmarked van--maybe with a little added ceiling space--and yet, like most things modest, it exists as one of the premiere friteries in the greater Brussels area.

Perhaps it is a thing of legends--or just sheer real-estate savviness.
Let us see...

Step 1: Place yourself in the center of an area densely populated by bars and cafes.

Step 2: Stay open late enough to accommodate those persons, generally drunk and hungry after a night of drinking at said bars and cafés, who crave something cheap, greasy, and within close proximity..

Step 3: Operate the station with as little staff as possible to extend the wait time (upwards of 2 hours in some instances), which therein magnifies the hunger-to-pocketbook-to-taste ratio.

Ultimately, customers are so striken with hunger, they order a size larger than what they first desired, with some additional toppings or croquettes to boot. And because they have waited with such fiery anticipation, expectations turn into projections, thereby making the food, when consumed, taste nothing short of divine. Also, I am told that frites have saved many a person from hungovers the next day. Power to the frites! Who knew all that oil and starch could do a body good, after all?!
 
So voilà! Recipe for an exceptional reputation!

I took part in this Brussels ritual (minus the visit to the bars. It was saturday brunch-time, after all).
Call it cultural immersion or research, either will do.

The results:
Well, they are difficult to gauge because there were too many variables:
1) While I am a consumer of frites, they are not generally part of my staple diet. Hence, I am no expert.
2) I surely fell victim to the mathematics raio described above.

And here's why:
In all sincerity, I would not have minded the 1.5 hour wait time, had it not been RIDICULOUSLY cold, wet, and windy. Fortunately, I had a friend to share in my misery. And luckily we defrosted while enjoying those frites alongside a few steaming cups of tea.

Oh, and while we're at it--here is another link between frites and mathematics:
frostbite
frostbite / 2 = frost bite
(fr)ost + b(ite) = frite
frite multiplied = frites!


frostbite, frites, one in the same--virtually...

can you sense the cold in my expression?

 
Out of the 30+ toppings available, here are some favorites of mine:
mayo (a european must, but in moderation)
curry ketchup
tartar
sugar (a family favorite)
honey (if I remember to stow some away in my purse for later consumption)
*chocolate milkshakes (too bad they have not added a malt-shop annex to the business; though, that would only give cause for people to start camping in line as a result of the additional wait-time potential)



Post script: Just today, I was told by a local that Frites Flagey is overrated. She recommended a friterie located in Place Jordan. I suppose my waistline will have to succomb to more research...

A Weekend With Marionettes, Gueuze, and Vietnamese Curry

A Weekend With 
Marionettes, Gueuze, and Vietnamese Curry


I recently brushed against a curious advertisement for a marionette production of Faust--and paused. Marionette, huh? How European.

Glorious are the opportunities afforded to us by the internet, for I was pleased to find that, even with Faust no longer on the schedule, still more shows were to be had. The theater, Toone; the current production: Jekyll & Hyde.


With friends found, we ourselves found Toone theater only with the help of well-positioned signage. It rests down an unassuming alleyway and stands as a marker of times when city centers had little more to offer than an inn and pub for local entertainment. There is also an attached bar whose wooden interior and marionette-laiden decor conjured images of the seedier, ill-weathered life of our beloved Pinnochio.

Amateur captures of Toone's Jekyll and Hyde:

I am an advocate for the resurgence of puppetry in popular culture, so this was a most exciting experience. The performers moved with great skill and ambidexterity--so much so, I soon forgot their presence entirely. All the characters were voiced by one performer, who, I do believe was also the ticket seller, master of ceremonies, and refreshment vendor.

Toone, as I am told, does not favor well in the strict confines of the great theatrical or literary works it produces. That being said, I am pleased to report that their showing of Jekyll and Hyde, while still true to the original story overall, was flavoured with many-a contemporary reference and sexual inuendo. And you are forewarned--the entire performance takes place in French (which made for quite the happy Kat).


For more information regarding Toone Theater, see below.

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Toone Theater
http://www.toone.be/

The website is relatively easy to navigate and reservations can be made without payment in advance. They have performances Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, but we opted for a 16h00 show (Saturdays only). I would estimate seating for more than 70 people, but we occupied less than 20 that afternoon.

Adults: 10 euro / Students: 7 euro
Just a skip from Grand Place, city centre.
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Before I delve further, I should probably acknowledge that I plan to comment on the different beers that I just so happen across. Call it a personal archive, if you will.

That being said, I just recently tried Gueuze. I savoured Kriek on a previous occasion, but Gueuze is straight lambic--none of this fruity-tooty-oh-so-goody Morello cherry business. Lambic, known best by its process of spontaneous fermentation, is special to the southwestern region of Belgium. The taste also greatly differs from ales and lagers, as I was unfortunate to discover.

Also spelled "Geuze"--Here, I chased my lambic with a tarte au citron vert (oddly reminiscent of key lime pie)

While I appreciate the spirit of adventure and of trying new things, that was about all I could stand to appreciate when drinking Gueuze. It was rather pugent--but caustic smells aside, the taste was too yeasty. Essentially, there was a strong cidery bite at first, followed by a bitter, sour aftertaste that simply disagreed with my tastebuds.

But alas, I will eventually try Gueuze more times than this once. Perhaps it was simply an ill-fitted brand. Or perhaps Gueuze itself is an acquired taste, like blue cheese, black olives, and after-school sitcom replays from the 1990s.
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Onward to the more satiating...

Should you ever find yourself hankering for great Vietnamese food while wandering the area near Flagey--stop. look. and find tram 81. Follow the tracks north, and before reaching Avenue Louise, look to your right. If you can make it past the local rotisserie, which so often tempts me with its unwavering aromas, seat yourself in the Vietnamese restaurant nearby (whose name I completely omitted to remember). It's here that you will be greeted with a dish such as this:

12 euro set dinner includes:
*choice of soup (I recommend the pho--a staple Vietnamese dish, plus the beef was the most tender I've had in some time. A little on the salty side, but delicious in its small proportion)
*imperial roll with sauce
*savory beef curry with vegetables a-plenty
*rice (with bits of corn, peas, and bell pepper added)
*pickled cabbage

*one fried onion ring and apple slice
*dessert

The restaurant is open seven days a week as well. Bon appetit! 

Brussels: First Impressions

Brussels: First Impressions

First impressions can be a tricky beast to tame and should likewise be cultivated with sincere caution. But when such an imprint happens to be of a positive disposition, as did mine of Brussels, I am inclined, then, to nurture and hopefully promulgate this positive image that the city has so early planted.

As the story goes--

I left the temperate, sun-kissed weather of Florida and arrived on a moderately cold Sunday morning. More shocking than temperate differences, however, was the landscape. Surprised was I to find the streets empty of cars, for the city was celebrating its annual Dimanche Sans Voiture (Car-Free Sunday). The universe orchestrated an excellent plan, as I was picked up from the airport and driven home within minutes before the one-day ban on cars became active.

Nestled between the Cinquantenaire to the east, the city centre to the north, and universities to the south, my home was just a quick tram ride to the day's festivities. Jet-lagged, I was not—and thankfully so, because with winter jacket found (after a few good minutes manipulating my over-stuffed, albeit expertly organized, suitcases), I was able to enjoy the pedestrian/cyclist/roller-blader/segway-user/horse-rider friendly streets.

Cyclists litter the entrance leading to Merode station

Cinquantenaire

The latest contraption in son-pinned-unfairly-against-father sunday competitions.

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To arrive on such a day was significant for me. My wanderings that Sunday made the realization of my stay all the more surreal and fanciful--as illustrated by the festivals, open-air markets, tents of beer, musical performances, and sport competitions (all situated under marvelously rare blue skies).

The city had a pulse--and a lively one, at that. Ultimately, this is the Europe I wish to see at every turn.

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It has now been over week since my arrival and I have compiled a user-friendly bulleted list of observations:


*Brussels has an intricate network of buses, trams, and trains that are relatively easy to navigate. The problem arises when you've just lived a year in a country (Japan) where public transportation actually follows a set time-table. One can arrive at a stop in Brussels and expect a wait time of 0 to never--as I recently experienced this past Wednesday. That tram never did come. And by never, I mean having stood peacefully and eagerly at the bench for 45 minutes.


*Forgive me as I add another (regrettably unflattering) comment about public transportation. But every rider should know that there is an insufficient number of buttons. Yes, buttons--you read correctly. Buttons are essential for exiting the buses and trams, but it requires unimaginable skill to place oneself in a convenient spot to reach them. I suppose you could always risk having to play "telephone" with your fellow commuters, asking each one down the line to tell the other the push the button. Hopefully, your message makes it down in time before the bus/tram passes your stop--or--that your message, "poussez le bouton, s'il vous plaît," has not morphed into something inexplicably odd, such as "le fou sait le futon" (the fool knows the futon) or "poulet est le doux thon" (chicken is the sweet tuna). 

Two cards in a series entitled, "Les Bonnes Manières." To the left, we see proper etiquette when riding the metro and bus.

*On a more positive note--compared to my experiences in Japan, there are sidewalks here! And ones large enough to allow several individuals to pass each other with little to no fear of getting one's personal space imposed upon.


*Cultural programs are plenty--and my favorite of the season is "Nocturnes." Different museums grant access until 10pm or midnight each Thursday until mid-December. I found myself rather fortunate to have chosen the Bellvue museum my first week in town. Upon my arrival to the museum doors, I was presented with free entry and a flashlight. The former needs no explanation; the latter--well, let's just say that I would never turn down the opportunity to explore a museum in the dark. Since childhood, I have always wanted to be trapped in a museum over night, free and able to explore exhibits as I please. And though I did not have quite the same liberties as I dreamt before, my inner child was quite satiated.

*And my, have I seen a return to childhood in recent days! In yet another impressively creative approach to museum design, the free BIP exhibition at the Place Royale set my heart ablaze. I stumbled into an unassuming white-washed room and there I found models of buildings and sites famous to Brussels--all plush, light-weight, and eager to be rearranged at my choosing.

Imaginative oral history exhibit at BIP. Each umbrella houses a speaker from which to listen.

Another focus on the auditory experience. Each droplet(?) plays various recordings of people, music, sounds, etc.

That seems sufficient enough for my first week. More photographs later to come.

The Move to Belgium

The Move to Belgium

I am scheduled to move to Brussels in just under three days, only to find myself saturated in denial. There is a great deal of packing to be had, and with less than sixty hours to go, you would think it smart to start. I am excited to embark, no doubt, but my mind cannot help but think of Saturday as yet another casual weekend spent in central Florida.

Little does my psyche know. 

I am no stranger to the many colorful forms of anxiety that an extended stay of this sort will solicit: the fear of leaving one's zone of comfort that environment, family, and friends engender; the worry associated with one's adjustment to a completely foreign culture and language; the apprehension to acknowledge sentiments of isolation and disconnect one is destined to feel after the initial excitement of the move has subsided.

But I hold great faith in the power of the internet and my thirst for human interaction. The former--to help maintain relationships already fostered and to create new avenues by which the second may transpire. The latter also holds significance in regards to my previous experiences. For you see, Japan taught me to appreciate a great many things--namely, the satisfaction of having a conversation of quality and the ability to do so. Observing other Americans thrive in their understanding and exercise of the Japanese language, and knowing I could not reach such a level of competency in a year's time, I grew ever more determined to nurture my own language base--to become a fluent speaker of French.

A student of 18th century French history, with years of schooling in the language and summers spent in Paris, you would think I would feel somewhat capable. But again, honesty compels me to admit defeat. Hence, my year-long stay in Brussels.

And so I spend my summer days doing what we all find ourselves doing on vacation. Not studying.
Perhaps it's slacker's remorse that I feel, and not denial.

In any event, I certainly look forward to my stay--and my work as an au pair for a most sincere, welcoming, and cultured family.

Best if I stop the typing and get back to sorting my belongings.
Next I write, in Brussels I shall be.

Japan: A year condensed

Japan: A year condensed

I had the very fortunate opportunity to work as an English instructor this past year in Funabashi, Japan. My residence was just 35 minutes east of Tokyo by train—and only a two-minute walk to my local station: Magomezawa. I consider Magomezawa to be a suburb of Tokyo, though we probably had a few too many fields of daikon, broccoli, etc. to merit the title by American standards. Regardless, it was a town that I grew to love and whose people were very kind and welcoming. 

I came to Japan not knowing the language, save for a few polite standards: hello, goodbye, thank you, you're welcome (even those I learned to vary according to the situation). For persons who wish to live in Japan, but are not familiar with the language prior to their departure, I hope to appease your concerns.

My advice: join or create an international society/drinking night—like this one here:

Tuesday nights in Magomezawa

Or join an international organization. I was lucky to stumble upon KIFA (Kamagaya International Frienship Association) in the neighboring town. By way of my interaction with KIFA, I was asked to model a formal kimono for an obi-tying event. This experience undoubtedly strengthened my connection to Japan and its people--I felt truly welcomed and immersed.

Language classes are also advantageous; community centers often offer free lessons, or you can attend a language school (should you have the pocketbook to support the fees). Minna no hongo was a great learning tool for me, but nothing beats the actual practice of conversation. Find a buddy and do a language exchange at a cafe once a week. My biggest regret was not being more proactive. Oh, and be sure to establish a strong footing with hiragana and katakana. Then, with time, conquer the grammar structure and kanji. Ganbatte gozaimasu!

In regards to teaching, I give ample credit to my school managers and students for making my work exceptionally enjoyable and fulfilling. I taught at an Eikaiwa (English conversation school), so my hours ranged from 1 or 2pm to 8 or 9pm—a delightful schedule for someone who savors the luxury of sleeping in :-) I had anywhere from 6 to 8 classes a day, and between 1 to 6 students in each class. My youngest was 2 years old—a charming and cheeky cutie-pie; my oldest was in her 80s. I only met with the students one time a week, but there was great progress made!

And though I am quite happy to be home in America, I do miss life in Japan.



Japan: A year of favorites

I find it rather difficult to convey the exact sentiments Japan has instilled in me, but if I were to try, my best effort would consist of a series of pictures. I trust the following photographs will capture the spirit of my experiences and perhaps introduce interesting lifestyle practices, food, and places for any and all persons who find themselves in Japan.


Kasukabe Matsuri 
(Kasukabe, Saitama prefecture--due north of Tokyo)

Kasukabe Matsuri (summer festival) holds a special place in my heart. It generally takes place in July, and I high recommend starting your day before sunset. You will find the carnival-like atmosphere reminiscent of American fairs--minus the rides and fareway games. I would go, if only for the assortment of food: yaki niku (grilled meat), tako yaki (pancake-like batter balls stuffed with octopus), okonomiyaki (grilled savory pancake), and any number of things skewed: pickled cucumbers, squid, jellyfish, mochi, pineapple, chocolate-covered bananas.

Be sure to go early enough in the day to see the dancers/taiko drum performers, and late enough to witness the dueling omikoshi (portable shrines). Oh, and people watching is a must.

 


Fuji-san: The Climb

As the Japanese people say, "a wise man climbs Mt. Fuji once; a fool climbs twice." Turns out, I am a wise (wo)man after all.

Gotemba trail head

I took a night hike in hopes of viewing the sunset while on the summit. My two friends and I started sometime after 8pm and reached the top by 5am, continually on the move for the entire duration. After a quick photo-op or two, we descended for the next few hours, until finally reaching the 5th station (nearest bus pickup) just after 12p the next day. Needless to say, we did not sleep for over 30 hours. Ripobitan D, the genki/energy drink, was my trusted companion.

I must admit that I did not foresee Mt. Fuji to be as challenging as it was. The impressions I received from previous climbers made it appear as though Mt. Fuji was the hiker's equivalent to Disney World--crowded paths, food and bathroom stations along the way, a post office conveniently located at the summit. But the truth is, the mountain is unforgiving to the unprepared--and a few people die each year while climbing.

In addition to food and water, it is imperative to bring multiple layers of clothing--clothing that can withstand wind chills and rain. And even though we started with a balmy 85-90 degrees Fahrenheit at the foot of the mountain, the temperature dropped dramatically with our ascent, feeling more akin to 20-30 degrees. I also suggest bringing gaiters to keep the dust out. I was still trying to remove dirt and dust from my shoes, months after the climb and two cycles in the washing machine. You can also purchase walking sticks for about 1,000 yen. They assist in the hike, but the real treat is having them branded at each station for about 200 yen. Great souvenir to take home, so long as you manage to bring it on the airplane--or in my case--remember to bring it with you to the airport at all.

Sporting my hiking stick and a good seven layers of clothing

 
Also--DO NOT ascend the Gotemba trail, lest you are a masochist and enjoy hiking up loosely-packed gravel at an insane incline...for the majority of your 8-10 hour climb. If anything, at least you can rest assured that the gravel you so despise to walk upon, when seated, actually feels oddly reminiscent of a bean-bag chair. I suppose the descent was therapeutic because the gravel cushioned my knees--just don't forget the gaiters.

I was not kidding. Check out the endless supply of gravel.

Kaiten Sushi

Kaiten sushi (conveyor-belt style) continues to grow as a novelty restaurant in the states, so I'm told. But in Japan, it's part of the staple dining experience. The average sushi dish ranges from 80/100 yen to 300/400 yen for two pieces. Menus are extensive, so if they don't supply a picture-reference menu, or you forgot your Japanese-English dictionary, you will just have to close your eyes and say "dochira ni shiyou kana" (the Japanese equivalent to eenie meenie miny moe).

During my stay, I was able to decipher two types of kaiten sushi restaurants. The main difference: the means in which you order food, either in person or by computer. My favorite restaurant was just outside Funabashi station, right across from the 6-story Daiso (100 yen shop). It was an intimate venue with just one large circular table that sat about 25 people at a time. There was an open space in the middle of the table where the three chefs went to work. They would periodically place different dishes on the conveyor belt for anyone's choosing, or you could call out to them and place your order. I always started with the customary "sumimasen," followed by "hotate, kudasai" (excuse me. scallop please). A quick flip of the wrists and the chef passes me my delectable order.

For computer-operated dining, a friend and I stumbled upon a lovely joint in Kyoto--just outside Ryōan-ji (famous for their rock garden). This restaurant was much larger and the booths reminded me of a Denny's or Perkins. You no longer sat at a communal table and you really had no interaction with the chefs. The positive side of the experience, however, is testament to the fun ways in which the Japanese integrate multimedia. We had a private computer screen in which to select our food. Any dish along the conveyor belt was up for grabs, but if you ordered a specific item, it would arrive via conveyor belt to you with a little card to signal unto others that the food is reserved. My favorite part was at the end of the meal--you would deposit your plates into a slot just under the conveyor belt. A machine would count the number and for every five plates you ordered, you got one "spin" of the slot machine or any other variety of video games. Mario party is the closest example I can recall. If you should win a game, out comes a little toy. I had no such luck, but it was a delightful experience nevertheless.



Nara Deer and Daibutsu
(Due east of Osaka, South of Kyoto--not more than an hour by train)

If you are traveling to the Kansai area to visit Osaka or Kyoto, Nara is just a short ride away.

Nara is famous for Sika or spotted deer. They have become a popularized icon, such as the Shisa/Sisa have for Okinawa. There are designated "biscuit" vendors that sell wafer-like rounds to be fed to the deer. Any deer is up for grabs, if they haven't already started grabbing at you. Keep an eye out for the ones whose antlers have yet to be filed down. A nudge or two is not uncommon. And watch where you step. 

I also have a great fondness for Nara's Daibutsu (Buddha). It's the largest bronze statue of the Buddha Vairocana--and it is coincidentally housed in the largest wooden structure in the world. I believe the temple, Tōdai-ji, also serves as the Japanese headquarters of the Kegon school of Buddhism.

Ocean Park Expo
(Just outside Nago, Okinawa--about a two hour bus ride from Naha Airport)

Okinawa is the Japanese equivalent to Hawaii, for some. I suppose the colorful printed shirts, palm trees, rolling hills, and sun-kissed skin of the native Okinawan people might give an American visitor that impression.

Through a series of events, I came to stay at a resort located across from an area called Ocean Park Expo. My primary motive was to visit the whale sharks at the aquarium, but little did I know what a treasure I stumbled upon. The aquarium was delightful in itself--took only about 1.5 hours to thoroughly review--but there is so much to do in the surrounding area. They have plenty of free activities: a dolphin show, sea turtle and manatee viewing, gardens, a museum, a beach, and a living history area with replicas of pre-Edo and Edo period houses.

Stained glass in the entryway of the Tropical Dream Center

My favorite site to visit was referred to as the Tropical Dream Center. Why they chose "dream center" as opposed to the words "botanical garden" is a question I never bothered to ask. Regardless of semantics, I highly recommend a visit. It is probably the most impressive, well-designed, and extensive botanical garden I have encountered--Edinburgh's Royal Botanical Gardens come in at a close second.

I arrived in the late afternoon to find only a handful of guests. The facility is so large, serene, and covered in flora, it feels as though you are walking on the set of Miyazaki Hayao's Laputa: Castle in the Sky. I traveled in early June, just after the rainy season, and the orchids were in full bloom. They also have a large atrium of exotic fruits and a few massive lily ponds scattered around. In all, I believe there are 14 stations/designated areas to visit. Oh, and a large tower from which you can view the surrounding area.

Okinawa also has some amazingly delicious food. One of their staple ingredients is goya (bitter melon). They also fancy taco rice, soki soba, and beni imo (purple sweet potato). Here are some photos to entice your taste buds to make a visit.

Red Soki Soba

Taco Rice with Curry

Beni Imo Tart

Without question, Naha's Kokusai Dori (International Street), located by the airport, is the premiere shopping area of the city. Best to reserve your visit to this area for the day of your return--no sense in lugging all of your souvenirs around for the remainder of your trip. It's a bona-fide tourist trap, but I found the kitchy atmosphere to be quite entertaining. You'll find a great many shops with the same merchandise, but there are a few gems. Keep an eye out for the ceramics, kewpie, and shisa/sisa (a pair of lion-like dogs in the entryways or rooftops around the city). One keeps its mouth open to ward off evil, the other closed to keep good in.

Kewpie dressed in pig and shisa garb

Goya bench, naturally

Well, it's been a long-winded entry, but I hope this captures a Japan that you were not exposed to before.
Otsukaresamadeshita!