I want to go to Vietnam for the food.

               Yeah, I know, I’m thinking with my stomach again.  But blogging about food has so many fewer calories than actually eating it, so it’s worth it.  Plus, this keeps me on my Jillian Michaels meal plan (that I’m following loosely, with emphasis on the “loose”, but that’s another blog altogether).  So anyway, back to the topic at hand: I have a craving for Vietnamese Pho, and I’m tired of settling for the yummy westernized stuff they serve in Vancouver.  I want real Vietnamese food, and the only way I can get it is to actually go to Vietnam.  There it’s just called food.  Alas, I am still in saving mode after the last trip, and am already paying off the next (California in September – stay tuned!), so my Pho craving will have to wait until next year, at least.  Big pout.  In the meantime, lets all take a moment and fantasize about that cuisine you love and can’t wait to try the authentic version of, or that plate of steaming awesomeness you once had and wish you were back there again. 

                   One of my clients told me, which is probably why this is on my mind in the first place, that he was once in Texas and had a steak so good he actually cried.  I, of course, told him he was a lunatic.  Kidding.  I just thought it.  He had a point though, global cuisine can transform a vacation into an experience.  The local delights are as much of a cultural experience as a dance performance or a museum, but they can be much easier to find and, depending on your tastes,  either way cheaper or waaaaayyy more expensive. 

                Some of the best food in much of southeast Asia can be found at street carts for next to nothing, but it’ll keep you coming back for more.  When I was in Bangkok there was this cart on the corner near my hotel that was little more than a single burner run by jumper cables hooked to a car battery, and there was this real and very dead rooster head hanging from the side, but every morning the line up was practically around the block for a container of their stir fry.  I never tried it, the combination of the line length, the rooster head, and my weenie Canadian palette made me chicken out, but I still think about it, and vow that if I’m ever back there I’m totally eating from the rooster guy’s cart.  If the locals like it, it has to be good.

                  What’s the deal with Korean Kimchi, anyway?  It’s just fermented cabbage buried in a vat underground for like six months, but every time I’ve been out for Korean food, they use it on everything.  I have not acquired the taste for it.  To me it’s like sour… something nasty… but I can’t help but wonder if the stuff you’ll get on your plate of braised short ribs in Seoul would be so much better.  Does the shipping process make it nastier?  Is it less pungent straight from the ground?

            Mmmmm… chicken tikka masala…. another of my faves.  Admittedly, the BF does cook one hell of a home version, but it blows my mind thinking of the layers of rich flavour that can only come from a spice mix hand-ground daily by the women of the village.  Yum.  Just wait until I find myself in India one day and all the spices are ground by your standard coffee grinder, but in the interim I will happily allow my mind to wander to the romantic fantasy I have created.  Besides, I’d go to Vietnam before India, the flight is shorter

              So tell me, what foods would you love to try fresh from the source?

Tags: eat, Food, interesting, kimchi, rooster, stomach, Texas, Thailand, travel, Vietnam, weird

Chiang Mai night market – Amazing!

            It was probobly the friendliest shopping experience I’ve ever had, and it involved bartering.   I know, I wouldn’t have believed it either, had I not experienced it.  In fact, I found myself wandering around the market night after night and waiting for the in-your-face sales tactics I’d experienced in other night markets around the world,  but never finding any.  By just being nice, the stall-keepers had sold me on the Chiang Mai night market, and I loved it.

           The market itself, no necessarily the items for sale, was the attraction.  It’s beautiful, a crazy maze of colours, textures, lights, people and sounds, everything brighter, louder, more sparkly than it’s predecessor.  It’s quite spread out as far as night markets go, although in places you’re still inevitably squished up against the other shoppers/walkers/stall walls (but then again, that just adds to the street market experience), and it’s large square footage means if you can’t find it here, you don’t need it.  Sure, most of the wares on offer are souvenir kitsch – carved elephants, Thai pillows, T-shirts with the Chiang Beer logo on them –  but it’s fun as hell to buy it.  One of my favorite things I’ve bought anywhere is my intricately detailed tuk tuk sculpted from a Coke Light can, some wire and a couple of buttons.   Carved soap was also a huge hit (we bought 5), where the artisan takes your standard drugstore bar of Dove and carves and paints it into a stunning orchid or mum or random pretty flower, then safely puts it in a small laquered box.  They look great on display, and it’s also good to know that in case of a dire soap shortage, I have a backup.

           Bartering scares me.  I know a lot of people who love it, who attack bartering as a game and will do almost anything to come out the victor, but I always get overwhelmed by guilt and knowing that the item advertised for CAD$3 would be at least CAD$15 at home, I’m willing to pay the full price.   Don’t get me wrong, I always barter, but I’m a soft sell.  I think that’s why the Chiang Mai market and I clicked.  The salespeople, being salespeople, would call out for your attention, but all you had to do was shake your head a polite “no” and they left you alone.  I’ve been followed by annoying bootleg DVD pushers in Kuala Lumpur, so this was a welcome surprise.  Not once did we have to pretend to be deaf (man, our sign language is so bad we’d probobly accidentally insult the royal family and someone’s dog) and could wander around for hours taking in the smells, sights and ambiance.  The only people that were kind of in your face were the hilltribe women selling the wooden frogs that if you ran a stick up and down their backs, they croak.  The women themselves were equally as friendly as the other salespeople, but that damn frog sound will follow you around for days!

       If you ever visit Chiang Mai and you don’t visit the night market, you’re doing yourself an injustice.  Even if you don’t like to shop, it’s a place that can’t be missed.  I’m already trying to figure out when I can go back!

Tags: bartering, beautiful, BlogSherpa, carved soap, Chiang Mai, coke light, elephants, friendly, frogs, fun, hilltribes, night market, shopping, souvenirs, Thailand

Chiang Mai – Ele-fun with Elephants

           “In Thailand you must ride elephants” advised my Lonely Planet, so I found myself in a squeaky minivan on a cloudless January morning driving through the outskirts of Chiang Mai towards the Maetamann Nature Camp.     

            We arrived just in time to see 12 of the camp’s 57 adopted pachyderms frolicking in the river, squirting and splashing and getting a good scrubdown from their mahouts (trainers).  Coming to Thailand I had been concerned about the welfare of the elephants,  having seen the TV exposes, but any worries I had were washed away as, after their baths, the elephants strolled past, free of any chains, whips or even fences.  The performance that followed was like Superdogs at the PNE, where verbal or practically invisible foot commands highlighted the elephants’ dexterity and intelligence as they moved logs, kicked soccer balls and marched in formations.

            A table sold bundles of sugar cane and bananas for 20 baht (60 cents CAD), and during the art portion of the show (where a baby elephant actually painted a detailed picture of an elephant holding a flower – if I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed a trunk could make such intricate movements) my friend bought some.  It took seconds for the baby to spot the treats, and each time he gave his brush to his mahout for reloading he slyly peeked our direction through long eyelashes to make sure they were still there.  It was love at first sight.  As soon as the painting was completed, the baby elephant, like a kid on Christmas morning, looked to his mahout for permission and when he got a nod he rushed right over to us, trunk extended.  Though it was a crowded amphitheatre, for the few minutes it took for him to enjoy his sugar cane, everyone else ceased to exist and he was ours.

            Then the show was over and he was gone, but the disappointment was short lived as, after an oxcart ride to a nearby village, we got an elephant ride back to the camp.  The scenery was postcard perfect, lush and unspoiled as we sauntered along the sparking river (or, in our case, through the river, as our elephant decided it was too hot to follow the path like everyone else)!  En route we stopped at a lifeguard tower-esque booth and bought some bananas.  As we wandered away (periodically placing a banana in the trunk, like feeding quarters into an arcade game) I realized: we’d just gone through a drive-through on an elephant!    

            All too soon it was time to go, but the memories are priceless and evoke an excited buzz in me every time I think back.  The perfect day in Chiang Mai.  I’m so glad I listened to my guidebook!

Tags: BlogSherpa, camp, Chiang Mai, elephants, oxcart, sun, Thailand