48 Minutes in Japan

by zora on January 23, 2012

Following on the heels of the quickie Munich visit…we spent even less time in Japan, and it was just in the Tokyo Haneda airport, but still, it was enough time to have our minds blown.

We made a beeline for duty free, to procure a couple of bottles of IW Harper bourbon, on a tip from a friend in Bangkok. Apparently, the Japanese, being the Japanese, liked this bourbon so much they just made a deal with the American distillery to buy all of it and sell it only in Asia. It’s good, and comes in a pretty bottle, along with 800 other types of whiskey I’ve never heard of.

OK, Crown Royal I've heard of.

Then we used the bathroom. Sweet Jesus, but which bathroom?

I just looked up 'ostomate.' They really have every base covered here.

I could’ve spared myself the decision-making if I’d just gone in this bathroom, but it was frankly a little scary.

Off-camera to the left: a full padded bed.

And then…did you know they even make modern squat toilets? I did not. Please admire the support bar.

The shelf in the back is for leaving your kid on, according to the symbols on the door.

After navigating that bit of craziness, we needed sustenance. To the ANA lounge!

I know everyone’s seen a bottle of Pocari Sweat by now. But have you seen a pitcher of Pocari Sweat?

ANA has my electrolyte needs covered.

There was also coffee from a machine that ground beans on demand. And beer from what looked like a soda fountain, but which tipped your glass to the appropriate angle for perfect foam.

And also in the liquids department, they had this adorable soy-sauce portion, for titrating one drop at a time onto your surprisingly satisfying rice balls filled with something pink.

Precision in all things

But this is where things got really delightful:

Before

Like you, I was thinking sundae toppings. But no. Here they are in action in my miso soup, still looking like candy:

After

Later, on our flight, the mind-bending continued. I only have this pic, in which the item on the lower right involves fish eggs, and the strawberries were steeped in vinegar with juniper berries. And after that, there was a whole series of disturbing-looking things–including a dry and slightly withered shrimp, a cube of brown jelly with shreds of things floating in it, and a gray chalky thing that looked like a rock but wasn’t–that were incredibly tasty and vaguely fishy.

Very tempted to steal the teeny spoons.

Apparently, all those Spanish chefs with their nitrogen tanks and their hydrocolloids are really working their asses off to recreate what’s just the daily experience in Japan. Next time, we’ll stay for longer.

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Munich: Get Gussied Up

by zora on January 17, 2012

In the course of our European train jaunting, Peter and I spent all of six hours in Munich, but it yielded a post worth of ridiculous photos–and none of them even involved us being drunk and stupid in a beer garden. I think the Munich tourism board should be proud of that.

Directly across the street from the train station is a branch of the Karstadt department store, which Peter wanted to visit for nostalgia’s sake, and to take the edge off his childhood raspberry-jam-filled cookies no longer being available in the station itself.

We were looking at the store directory, and there among the usual departments was ‘Traditional Costume.’ Beeline up the escalators to be greeted by these fine folks:

That's right...dirndls and legwarmers.

We wandered through the racks in a daze. Astounding detail and variety. Two huge rooms full of Bavarian chic. I had no idea this was such a thing.

The sale rack

Sopranos go to Munich

I didn't know 'landlustmode' was a category.

There were some teenage girls dressing up in crazy outfits and taking each others’ pictures. It would’ve been a little too creepy to take their pictures, so we just posed for our own, without committing to Full Dirndl:

Fresh look for the 20-teens?

Peter’s dad (Greek) used to own lederhosen, by the way. Peter’s mother (German) finally refused to let him wear them out of the house, after one too many embarrassing jaunts to the newsstand in them.

The really illuminating thing about Bavarian traditional costume was how much it looks like American country-western wear. Of course. All those Texans with their smoked meats had to come from somewhere.

Why, ain't that just the cay-uuuutest shirt?

We finally backed away from the lederhosen (even on the sale rack, we were talking at least 90 euros minimum on any outfit) and headed for the miniature trains. They just don’t have miniature-train sections in American department stores. Certainly not ones where the glass is smudged from people pressing their noses against it longingly.

Mmm, beer cars.

After that, at a beer hall, we were nearly as dazzled by variety. German menus seem to consist of the same five words (brat, sauer, etc) in noun and adjective form, magically recombined to produce more than a hundred distinct dishes. Peter and I wound up with venison cutlets (neighbors at the table translated: “Um, Bambi?”) and spaetzle. And giant beers. And Bavarian cream for dessert. Which we were disappointed to see was not just ‘Cream’ on the menu.

Merry.

Just when I was settling into the good humor around me, as if into a warm bath, wallowing in the hum of hundreds of pleasantly drunk people and buttery food, Peter mentioned, “Oh, yeah, it was in places like this where Hitler really rallied the crowds.” So weak, humanity–that people at their most convivial, most singing-along, can so easily be carried off in another direction entirely.

After a bit of walking around, sobering up and digesting, I’d shaken off the landlust gloom, and it was time to get back to the station for our overnight train to Amsterdam. Magically, we were getting a little hungry again, and opted for a sausage.

Mmm, tasty mullets.

If you thought the kid with the mullet looked obscene...

Peter bought a beer for the train. But not the biggest beer available.

Yes, that's a mini-keg. For your train ride.

You can also see in the pic that we’ve selected quite a lot of Haribo. Only later did I add it all up and realize we’d bought a whole kilo of the stuff–I guess I hadn’t sobered up quite as much as I thought. Still, the flavor of Munich stayed with us for weeks–nearly as good a souvenir as lederhosen.

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9 Highlights of 2011

by zora on January 9, 2012

A belated wrap-up of the year. I almost didn’t post this, because everything went so well this year that it seemed too boring. Ten items seemed like a stretch–here’s the Top 9:

1. I spent five weeks in Egypt and did not get sick. Absolutely astounding. I can’t really take credit. It’s like my stomach bacteria are a separate force from me. Thank you, thank you, stomach bacteria.

2. Bookdealbookdealbookdeal. OMG!!! For realz! 2 legit 2 quit!! Oh hai I can be real awthor? Oh, right–they gave me money to write in full sentences and spell things right. I’d better keep in practice.

3. I was on a boat! I was on a boat! Peter and I took the Queen Mary 2, and even dined with the Commodore Himself.

4. I really felt like this Internet thing is going to work out. This isn’t specific to this year exactly, but I’ve met so many fantastic people through the Internet, from the fabulous Kate Payne of The Hip Girl’s Guide to Homemaking to Christina of A Thinking Stomach to Medo, who just happened by my blog and wound up driving me around Cairo and convincing his incredibly generous mom to make me a home-cooked meal.

It's not even all fitting in the picture!

In real life, I probably would’ve met Medo’s mother first–she’s only a few years older than me. But this is what happens on the Internet. (Get your pedophile jokes lined right up. I can take it.)

Medo can manage a smile even after being stuck in Cairo traffic for an hour.

5. I made some jokes in Arabic. I can’t remember them now, but I remember when people laughed. And when the family who shared their picnic lunch with me at the Agricultural Museum in Cairo said, “She’s like us! She’s got the Egyptian spirit!” (I am wildly translating andaha damm khafeef–she has light blood.)

This matters because it was the small goal I set for myself while taking Arabic classes in Cairo. All other forms of fluency in Arabic have eluded me. And nothing gets you so far with so little in Egypt as making a good joke. It made up for my total failure to use the various polite phrases at the right times.

6. I made peace with my hometown. This happened to be via an article I wrote for the New York Times, which is also very exciting. But in the big picture, it’s amazing to me that the place I said sucked so hard for so long is now cool enough to make me want to advocate for it.

Or…could it be…that I’ve changed too? No, that’s just silly!

7. I got into good work habits, with other people’s help. Early in 2011, I realized: all those people who take their computers to coffee shops are on to something. In fact, all those people who go to offices to work are also on to something. You get more done with other people around (up to a point). So I put the call out for people to come over and work at the extra desk in my office. I called it the Queens Writers Fellowship, and it brought some excellent people over. When I’m back and writing this year, I hope to do it again.

8. I started Astoria Ugly. I’ve been meaning to do this for years. Finally Tumblr came along and provided a pared-down enough format that just posting a heinous-architecture photo a day made sense. See how great the Internet is now that we’ve lost all of our attention span? Admirably, David, who’s been babysitting Astoria Ugly while I’m away, has more energy to write things for it. I’ll be back at the helm shortly.

9. People called me ‘teacher.’ In the spring and early summer, I taught several classes on blogging, based on my expertise derived from…this very blog, I suppose. I may not be monetizing or SEO-optimizing or attracting those feverish commenters who fight to be the first, but gosh darn it, I’ve been in this game for (holy crap) eight years now, and tried every random blog thing on for size. It was fun to consolidate all that knowledge–and get up to speed on new developments. And hear all my students’ new ideas and points of view.

It also gave this blog a little kick in the pants. To be honest, I was about to bail. Sometimes it’s more fun to write tweets and snarky Facebook comments. But, yeah, you can’t quit your blog while you’re teaching about blogging. So I buckled down and followed my own advice: I set a posting schedule (and occasionally messed it up–for ex, with this now-dated post), and brainstormed ideas, and wrote in batches. (This is why the blog gets kind of far behind my actual travel timeline–but you don’t mind too much, do you?)

Thanks a million for reading all this time. Greatest respec’ to all the real teachers in the world.

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Egypt: The Frickin’ Pyramids, and How to Help

by zora on December 26, 2011

Ah, the Pyramids. Last remaining wonder of the ancient world. Monumental tombs for the pharaohs. Engineering mystery.

And pain in my ass.

I’m not the only one to think this. Every tourist I’ve ever met in Egypt has looked shell-shocked when they mention their trip to the Pyramids.

It shouldn’t be this way. Egypt’s second source of income after foreign aid is tourism, and the Pyramids are the number-one tourist attraction by far. They’ve been grossly mismanaged, probably because Zahi Hawass, ex minister of antiquities, was too busy wearing his silly hat on National Geographic specials to care.

Sorry to be so rancorous about such an important and impressive pile of rocks. They are pretty cool.

Crush, crush.

This photo sums up the problem of visiting the Pyramids. I didn’t want to take this photo. I didn’t even want to be out in the desert where you have to be to take this photo. But some guy with a camel started chatting me up, and because some days it’s easier to smile than it is to snap and draw the line, and that doesn’t even work anyway, I ended up letting him walk with me, and then of course the next thing I know I’m on the damn camel and we’re tromping out to the photo-op spot.

He was a nice guy, this camel guy. He asked me to write a text message to his German ‘girlfriend.’ He tried to get me my Coke for a reasonable price from the guy selling them from a foam cooler. He had lovely eyelashes. And he asked me for a ridiculous amount of money, even though I had never hired him. I knew that would happen the minute he said hello, but like I said, some days it’s easier to smile.

His camel's name is Mickey Mouse. Every camel's name appears to be Mickey Mouse. How did that joke get started?

Anyway, this wasn’t a terrible experience, mostly because I didn’t have much at stake that day and I knew what to expect. By duct-taping my rose-colored glasses to my face, I could still enjoy the guy’s company without getting too peeved about this whole camel deal being forced on me. But most people have far worse problems at the Pyramids–like actual jerks who yell and threaten and fight to get more money out of tourists.

This makes it sound like the camel guys (and there are horse guys too) are the problem, and if they just banned them from the Pyramids area, everything would be fine.

Ah, but…two problems:

1) The Pyramids are spread over a big area, so the horse and camel rides are actually useful.

2) The horse and camel guys are from the village next to the Pyramids, and they have exactly zero other ways to make money. (Well, except for the Mubarak regime hiring them to beat up their compatriots in Tahrir Square. That’s how desperate they are.)

Zahi Hawass et al. knew they couldn’t get rid of these guys completely, but tried to control them by erecting this horrific wall between the village and the Pyramids. It looks like a mini-Palestinian barrier fence, and all it does is make the horse and camel guys move up the road to try to nab tourists before they get to the Pyramids.

Cool tiles at the Giza metro stop

This starts at the Giza metro stop, where seemingly concerned strangers sidle up and tell you which bus to take to the Pyramids. Then of course try to sell you on horse rides while you’re waiting for the bus. Or they jump in your taxi when it’s stopped in traffic. Or, wait, backtrack: they get the guy at your hotel to sell you a “sunrise tour” of the Pyramids, which means you show up two hours before the site opens, and you pass the time by talking to a guy who wants to sell you a horse ride.

It would be funny if it didn’t drive tourists to breakdowns and rages. The day I visited, I must’ve said ‘no’ about 856 times. And if you don’t say ‘no’, it must mean yes. So, yeah, I was basically date-raped by a camel.

The only calm part of the Pyramids is the almost-dust-free zone of the Cheops Boat Museum.

I wish I could just advise people not to go to the Pyramids, as I think they’d be a lot happier with their trip to Egypt. But I know that’s the grumpy outlook. Though Anthony Bourdain didn’t go to them on the Egypt episode of No Reservations.

My friend Hassan is a tour guide, and he happened to be on that episode. He was the one telling Tony all about the Pyramids, so that Tony didn’t have to go.

Hassan has a dream of fixing the Pyramids, of finally solving this problem with the horse and camel guys, who provide a useful service but are the source of so much aggravation. He’d like to help them form a cooperative of some kind, so they’re not all competing with each other, and there’d be set prices. Oooh, and maybe an orderly line! (Sorry–that might just be me getting carried away.)

I’d love to connect Hassan with some people working in tourism in other countries who might advise on how to go about organizing something like this. Or people working in NGOs with this kind of experience. Any ideas? Mexico connections are an obvious choice, as a lot of tourist services in the Yucatan work on this model.

In the meantime, I was heartened at least by how many Egyptians were at the Pyramids when I visited this year. I’ve never seen this before. Then I was disheartened to see them also being hassled endlessly by the horse and camel guys. By the end of the day, they looked as beat as me.

Just chilling out at the Great Pyramid of Cheops. As you do.

Sorting out the camel and horse situation would be as radical and helpful a change as installing meters on Cairo taxis–which has been done successfully. Cairo taxi drivers are now a delight to ride with. And I bet many of the horse and camel guys would also be excellent ambassadors for Egypt, if they weren’t so desperately fighting for the last tourist dollar.

All suggestions welcome. Have you been to a tourist site that was remarkably well managed? Or poorly managed? This isn’t rocket science–places have solved it, and probably not for too much money. Somewhere as great as the Pyramids deserves a lot better.

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