Tag Archives: restaurants

June 2015: Vietnamese Superstars

by

0

SAM_3602Vietnam then. Home of Pho, too many zeroes on currency denominations and British people seeking a little cultural adventure.

As random nights out go, playing guitar on stage in a Vietnamese bar with the runner up in Vietnam’s inaugural Pop Idol competition – Ngọc Ánh – accompanying me on percussion takes some beating.

The back-story to this: as part of our desire to enjoy Vietnam both culturally and gastronomically, we’d booked the experience of seeing an authentic Vietnamese meal being prepared before eating the meal with the chef’s family.  A task that could have been performed in an entirely perfunctory manner by our host, Tiffany, without complaint from us instead turned into one of my all-time holiday highlights.

Tiffany (her adopted English name), a local entrepreneur, may well become a millionaire in a few years (in Western terms, since 1 million dong is equivalent to around £33 at the time of writing). She without doubt possesses the creative, passionate and risk-adverse mindset to succeed.  At a young age she’d already owned and sold a coffee bar, now instead focussing on importing and selling Japanese crockery & tableware as well as hosting the occasional curious foreign traveller.

After we’d finished devouring the meal, Tiffany and her Pop Idol husband invited us to join them at their old coffee bar to watch an open-microphone evening of local singers; all with impressive voices, but all eclipsed by the power and passion of Ngọc Ánh’s vocals.

11051845_10205628575787587_5240343502089491436_oI’d always claim to be distinctly average guitar player – definitely more rhythm than lead – but it’s the love of playing that spurs me on, not the need to improve my technical capabilities.  So following Ngọc Ánh’s rousing 4-song set, he invited me to come up to the stage to play.  I did so unprepared and without the comfort of hiding behind a boisterous lead singer.  My four songs – two from the Chinese Moganshangrila set (“Until Sex” and “CNY U”) sandwiched between two of my own untitled numbers, hastily chosen as the four that were sufficiently varied to carry a tune without backing.  Ngọc Ánh’s friend improvised on the Cajon box drum throughout, with the superstar himself joining on percussion on the first song.

We ended the night with our hosts in the Apocalypse Now nightclub, ensuring our musical evening went from acoustic to electronic. One hell of an evening, as they say.  Following previous holidays with Rachel, our expectations were high in terms of finding something different; something random and completely unforgettable to do. The bar is set even higher now for future holidays.

With one of Ben’s cousins resident in HCMC, we had an expert guide to take us around a few tourist attractions and to a few excellent restaurants (cheers Paul). The food has been phenomenal.

IMAG1438After three nights in Ho Chi Minh (and an interesting massage), we took a 3.5 journey north to the coastal town of Phan Thiet near the popular tourist destination of Mui Ne.

—————

Having experienced a noisy, sleepless night onboard an overnight train in Malaysia last year, I had a few concerns over taking a similarly “local” train in Vietnam. Fortunately, for the equivalent of about £5, we had a fairly comfortable, uneventful meandering journey though Vietnamese countryside and coastline.

At relatively posh coastal resorts, like ours in Phan Thiet, the temptation is to accept what’s presented without question. However if you never ask “Could you please cook us a bespoke meal for Rachel’s birthday?” along with “Do you mind if we take over the music in your restaurant?” and “Would you mind keeping the restaurant open beyond your normal 10pm closing time” then you’ll never experience an incredibly tasty meal whilst listening to your hastily cobbled-together playlist blasting out though the resort’s unsuspecting sound system until the early hours.

Admittedly the resort was quiet enough to accommodate our celebratory requests. And I’m pretty sure I managed to reset their sound system at the end of the evening.

We thought our resort in Phan Thiet was pretty luxurious; that is until we took our next train journey to our final destination, a beautiful resort just north of Nha Trang.

We’d been deliberately ramping up the “poshness” of each place we stayed in, but our five nights in Nha Trang were probably the most pampered I’ve ever felt on holiday.
When we checked in, the manager asked us what room we’d booked for the four of us. When we told her, with a look of mock disgust she simply stated “Well I won’t see you then!”
She was pretty much correct. Our own two-bedroom villa had a private pool bigger than some hotel swimming pools. It featured room service so accommodating we could repeatedly order buckets of ice to be sent to us.
And it was easily big enough to accommodate the one night with five of us present, as we swapped out Ben for Andrea. So to speak.

mmexport1433046259570After a couple of days of bobbing about and working our way through the extended (by us) room service menu, we ventured into Nha Trang itself to discover a city dominated by Russian language. We’d been told this was a major tourist destination for Russians but hadn’t been quite prepared for this.

When walking into bars or restaurants we were first greeted in Russian before our bemused look gave us away.   Even the German beer bar with dirndl-clad ladies and “holding a beer keg at arm’s length until your arm breaks” competitions had Russian as their first language.
I imagine this is what it’s like for British people venturing into certain Spanish beach resorts where British attitudes and palates and are very much at the forefront. I have no idea why you’d want that on your holiday (which is, ostensibly, a holiday to escape from your home country).

We had a final night in HCMC at a grandiose but somewhat grumpily-staffed hotel before flying back to Shanghai.

Rachel calls these trips “fabulous adventures”. We’re not back-packers any more, but we retain that curiosity; that need to explore; that desire to experience local culture wherever we visit. But by God do we demand a little luxury when doing so.

Rachel, Andrea and Ben – here’s to many more of these!

May 2014: One Year Later…

by

1

Me, Bron and Rachel at the Bund

Me, Bron and Rachel at the Bund

“They” say you should never go back; that returning only serves to diminish, never enhance a memory. Bron and I decided to ignore this, returning to Shanghai almost a year after we left.  We stayed with Andrea, an American friend we’d met during our year in China, herself shortly departing to start a new job in Singapore. Andrea’s apartment is one block behind our former Shanghai house, practically overlooking both the house and our nearby local bar: a melancholic view from our temporary bedroom window.

Our Friday night in Masse

Our Friday night in Masse

We landed on Friday, and with our time in Shanghai limited, we went straight out after a quick freshen-up. We’d invited a few of those who’d in some way played a part in our short time in Shanghai – friends, former colleagues, former language teachers – to meet with us in our favourite local bar and were overwhelmed with the turnout. Chris (co-owner of the bar) agreed to let us use the terrace for our little gathering (arranged whilst in the UK via the medium of a Chinese social messaging app). Thanks to all who came to see us; we know the “Former French Concession” area involved a fair amount of travel for some of you.  For those of you who have also left Shanghai – we’ll no doubt see you over the next couple of years.

With the married couple

With the married couple

One of our main reasons for visiting Shanghai over this particular set of dates was to attend John and Erica’s wedding. A brave attempt at reading his speech in Mandarin was greatly appreciated, with the pace sufficiently slow enough to allow even Bron and I to understand elements of John’s tales of how he and Erica met.

Buffets at Chinese weddings are not a particularly good idea, unless you’re prepared to cope with everybody seeking food simultaneously. Not so much a mass brawl as a mass panic that food may run out very quickly. All in all a great evening, including spending time with Shawn and Andrew, the first people I met in China back in 2010.  John and Erica – many congratulations.

The ladies by the mysterious building

The ladies by the mysterious building

Sunday saw us take part in another Shanghai tradition for ex-pats – the boozy Sunday brunch (with free flowing alcohol). Initially with Rachel, Andrea and Grace, we were later joined by Isaac and Chong before staggering back to Andrea’s apartment over a very familiar set of streets. Andrea – thanks so much for letting us stay at your place.

On Sunday afternoon we just about made it (post brunch) to one of Shanghai’s huge railway stations to join Anny on a trip to her current residential town of Wuxi. A feast was waiting for us at Anny’s apartment; never any danger of going hungry when we meet up with Anny’s family.

Making fresh noodles

A man, making fresh noodles

Noodles for breakfast in China is normal as cornflakes, toast or sausages to a Westerner. And they’re always fantastic. In the smallest of restaurants, for around 50p, one can experience a true taste of China.  This we did each morning whilst in Wuxi, taking full advantage of being accompanied by somebody Chinese – absolutely no English is spoken (or written) in these tiny establishments.

Bron and Anny meet a rather large Tao statue

Bron and Anny meet a rather large Tao statue

With a little sightseeing and the arrival of Linda and her 8 year old daughter, Cake, we had a couple of days that I can only describe as being authentically Chinese.  We experienced fighting to get on buses (I resorted to swiping a man with my bag of Chinese vegetables as he tried to push Bron out of the way), wandering around a huge indoor market with giant stacks of fruit and veg that you’d struggle to get in an entire city’s worth of British supermarkets and a somewhat hectic meal in “Grandma’s kitchen” restaurant.  I have enough trouble coping with kids in England, so being abandoned with Cake in the restaurant whilst everybody disappeared to the loo en-masse felt like the longest 5 minutes of my life.  My rudimentary Chinese was met with a mischievous unwillingness to understand and shouting “no” to somebody who doesn’t speak English is quite tricky when the person is attempting to rearrange the table decorations in a fairly precarious manner whilst waiting for her Mum to return.

As ever, great to spend time with Anny, Linda and families.  The Virgin Atlantic credit card will hopefully help to ensure these meet-ups continue for many years.

We arrived back in Shanghai on Wednesday evening to spend a last meal near the Bund with Rachel, Andrea and Rachel’s two Eric friends.  Rachel’s favourite restaurant in Shanghai seems to feature the rudest waiters:

  • Waiter takes my side plate away as I’m eating bread.
  • “But I haven’t finished my bread yet!”
  • “Your main course will arrive shortly sir”
  • “I’m sure it will, but I’m still eating bread at the moment.  Can I have my plate back please?”
  • “No.”
  • Impatient Brit instead grabs plate from empty table nearby and plonks bread on it.
  • A different waiter serves for the remainder of the evening.

Our year in China – truly a year like no other – has left us with a like-minded group of friends, now scattered all over the globe. In some cases originally forced together through the necessity of seeking commonality in what still sometimes feels like a different planet, we know we have friends we will meet across the continents.

“They” say you should never go back. They have no idea.

 

October 7th ’13: (Inflatable) Starfish in the Seychelles

by

0

SAM_2165Kazakhstan,  geographically and politically positioned halfway between China and the UK, seemed an unlikely location to meet up with Rachel, our friend from Shanghai with whom we’d experienced many a Chinese adventure.  So we settled on the Seychelles. Not halfway, but an equal pain in the arse for all of us to reach.

The guidebooks (well, TripAdvisor.com) refer to the Seychelles as perfect for those seeking the best beaches in the world.  ‘Best’, is of course subjective, with some visitors preferring near-shore coral, some seeking white sands to reflect the sun’s glare for that complete tan, or some demanding beautiful scenery for the perfect photography backdrop.  Our perfect beach was just outside our hotel in Mahe.  Three grown
adults, floating in the sea anchored to an inflatable starfish, drinking flavoured rum purchased from the nearby Regatta festival.

Probably the closest I’ve ever come to a ‘beach holiday’; we spent most of our time in the water. I doubt there are many places in the world where you can rent a car, go for a random drive and find so many completely deserted beaches.  In one location, we had a local takeaway meal on the beach before once more deploying the starfish.  A picturesque scene entirely for us until the old couple turned up and proceeded to get changed out on the beach.  White bottoms reflecting the sun beautifully.

View from Burj Khalifa - it's real, honest.

View from Burj Khalifa – it’s real, honest.

Before reaching the Seychelles,  Bron and I had the bright idea of spending a day in Dubai, since that’s where our connecting flight originated.  A bright idea until the 8am arrival time (6 hour flight from the UK = no real sleep) and the 2am next day departure started to take its toll.  Dubai is as I think we expected; sandy yet curiously clean; hot outdoors but freezing indoors; ostentatious yet reserved.  A curious mix of cultures and styles,  where the world’s tallest man-made structure allows visitors to clearly observe the Sim City approach to building all that lies beneath it.  We landed on a Friday, the Islamic day of prayer. I assume the locals choose their mosque early in life, as a churchgoer in the UK does likewise.  Otherwise the multitude of simultaneous calls to prayer from the minarets’ loudspeakers would cause a degree of cognitive (religious?) dissonance given the sheer number of mosques to choose from.

We met up with one of Bronwen’s old university friends in the evening, as you do whilst in Dubai, and explored one of Dubai’s few but densely populated drinking districts.

Waiting for us in the Seychelles was Rachel, having arrived a day earlier.  Very fortunate for us as for the first time in 2 days we had a bed to sleep on, sneaking into Rachel’s hotel room before checkout. I say sneak; Rachel’s ploy of giving us the wrong room number didn’t work as we had the foresight to check.

Apparently one of the most photographed beaches in the world (La Digue)

Apparently one of the most photographed beaches in the world (La Digue)

We spent our 8 nights in the Seychelles on three different islands; Mahe, La Digue and Praslin.  Mahe is like paradise,  if paradise were run by the most grumpy staff on the planet. A place where asking for a menu is met with silence and a 180 degree turn away from the customer.  A place where cocktails with missing ingredients are served without apology (“You want me to go all the way to the kitchen to find chocolate syrup for your chocolate cocktail”), and where requests for additional contents are met with “You want this?  You want this?  YOU WANT SOME OF THIS” (I’ve never before been so threatened by a bottle of Angostura Bitters).  A place where the local language is supposed to be Creole but turns out to be a series of sighs.  Our hotel had a casino but an attempt to gamble at 7.30pm was met with shouts of ‘We closed! We closed!”.  Another more helpful member of staff explained: “Sorry, he’s Korean”. Bizarrely, a local law (not hotel policy) decrees that men looking to gamble after 6pm must wear long trousers.  Our helpful member of staff explained: “It’s OK, 3/4 length trousers would be fine”.

As well as vampires, we discovered the Chinese only come out night.  With perhaps only a few exceptions, dusk on the beaches heralded the arrival of Chinese tourists, safe to enter the sea without exposing skin to the sun (since a tan on a Chinese person is considered a very bad thing in China).

After three nights in Mahe, we took a two-part ferry journey to La Digue, the smallest island of the three we were to visit.  An island so small that cars are rare and cycling around the whole island in a single day is possible (as we did).  A beautiful island, made all the better once our upgraded room had been awarded (long, protracted story, better explained by Rachel’s blog.

Our final three nights took us to the island of Praslin, home to some of  the world’s most photographed beaches.  With the current too strong to deploy the starfish, we headed out on a “private” day trip with 6 other people we think were also expecting a little more privacy.  From giant tortoises roaming free to fighting crabs that walk forwards, not sideways, Praslin and its smaller neighbouring islands gave us the opportunity to experience a little more of what the Seychelles really has to offer.  And with wonderfully warm and welcoming staff, Praslin definitely wins as the place to visit in the Seychelles.

On our last night we eschewed the bars and restaurants, instead settling for a few hours sat on the edge of our semi-private pool, finishing what was left of our snack food (Monster Munch gets everywhere) and our remaining rum.

The snorkeling wasn’t a patch on what Bron and I had experienced in the Philippines,  but we think the Seychelles wins for beaches, calm waters and local rum (and in Praslin – the people).  A fantastic 10 days away, and of course great to spend some time with Rachel, despite a few funny looks from the honeymooning couples.  Ben – that’s what happens when you have to work during Golden Week…

August 24th ’13: Gong Fangrong in the UK

by

0

“Would Paul Sims please contact immigration”.  Not the friendliest of welcomes for Anny at Heathrow airport, as she’s taken to one side and quizzed about her reasons for visiting the UK.   I kept my natural predilection for sarcasm suppressed as the immigration official asked questions such as “Are you expecting anyone at Heathrow today?” (“No, I just hang around airports hopefully”, I didn’t reply).

Since my answers matched Anny’s (How did I know her, what’s her Chinese name, what’s her situation in China, how long was she here, etc.), they eventually let her in, only an hour later than planned.

Our house became the temporary holiday home for our Chinese guest, privileged as we were to entertain Anny on her first ever trip outside China.  Olney lived up to our description – no questions now on why we want to stay here rather than move closer to London (where Bron and I are now both working).   A two week trip to the UK which saw Anny explore our small market town of Olney, as well as Cambridge and Oxford (Anny being determined that her daughter should study sufficiently hard to gain entry in the future – either would do), London and Maidenhead for a stroll along the Thames.

Our house now feels a little empty; Anny – you were a perfect guest, and entertaining company as always.  Plus, we had an added bonus of having a few home-cooked Chinese meals ready for us upon our return from work.   We’re sure you’ll be able to visit us again in the future.

May 19th: Barbecue Pits and a Singing Farewell

by

0

The chefs at work

The chefs at work

Back home in the UK, a barbecue is normally a back-garden affair, featuring burnt sausages, potato salads and wasps.  In Shanghai, gardens are hard to come by (apart from those living in Pudong), and instead a number of parks have “barbecue pits” allowing friends and family to gather and cook together in the late-spring heat.

So, to end our last weekend in China, on Sunday afternoon we met up with a few of our local friends (ex-colleagues, ex-pats, ex-language teachers) and their families in Gucun Forest Park, out in the northern suburbs of Shanghai.  Hiring a “VIP” barbecue pit seemed the sensible idea given the close proximity of those attempting to cook in the other areas of the park.  An on-site supermarket allows visitors to stock-up on everything required for an elaborate barbecue (from chopsticks and plastic cups through to chicken and liver on a stick).

Our last ever performance

Our last ever performance

Many “last” moments at the moment: playing a short acoustic set with Felix after the barbecue (of our 13 songs, we played the 8 that we could remember most of) for – probably – the last time ever was another of my many highlights of our Chinese experience.  Our audience grew slightly from our group of 30 or so as the staff waited for us to finish the noise and allow them to get in to clear up.  Thanks to all our guests for allowing Felix and I to perform; hopefully some of you enjoyed it!

A fantastic way to end our last weekend – China continues to provide new experiences right until the end.

Tasty tapas, expensive water

Tasty tapas, expensive water

Our barbecue followed a Saturday night meal out in El Patio, a Spanish-themed bar featuring expensive but tasty tapas alongside ridiculously expensive water (nearly £5 per bottle – something we discovered at the end of the meal after drinking 7 bottles).  The night ended in the Shanghai Brewery – time for one last pint of on-premise brewed stout.

 

May 12th: Oxygen from Guilin

by

0

View of Guilin

View of Guilin

When building a city, planners, designers, urban developers – all must cope with varying topography, marshlands, pockets of gas, rivers, etc.* Those responsible for developing the city of Guilin instead had a unique problem; one instantly visually apparent along some of Guilin’s major streets. Passing by in our taxi, we see hotel, hotel, hotel, huge near-vertical mountain several hundred metres tall, hotel, hotel, slightly bigger vertical mountain, etc.  It’s a slightly bizarre but beautiful  landscape, with vegetation on every exposed mountain surface (those that aren’t completely vertical) resulting in a lush, green backdrop in just about any direction you would care to look. Shanghai attempts to do the same, but replaces green mountains with huge skyscrapers of concrete and glass.

Bron and I have had many adventures or activities that could lazily be described as ‘random’ whilst in China; this trip was always going to be a little strange since we’d had absolutely no visibility of any plans for the weekend other than our outbound and return flights.  We’d joined Anny on a trip to Guilin, coinciding with her 10 year graduation reunion from the city’s university. So Anny’s former classmates had the somewhat incongruous addition of a couple of Brits for most of the weekend.

Bron outside Prince City in Guilin

Bron outside Prince City in Guilin

We landed in Guilin’s airport late on Thursday night (as another contrast with Shanghai, the roads leading from Liangjiang airport into the main city area of Guilin are lined with hedges and trees – from Pudong airport to the main areas of Shanghai they’re lined with little more than concrete and apartment complexes), met by a couple of Anny’s classmates.  What we thought was our hotel stop turned out to be a rice-noodle stop – a delicacy apparently not often found elsewhere in China.  I’ll try and do this process justice – a lady behind a glass window adds rice noodles** into a metal bowl for you.  You choose your meat from a selection of miscellaneous offerings on display; this is added to your bowl.  You then have free reign to add your own vegetables, chillies and finally the steaming hot soup from a huge vat.  Soup which when added to the metal bowl causes the bowl to heat up quickly, causing its owner (well, me) to drop half the contents into the vat of soup in an attempt to avoid third degree finger tip burns.

Colour enhanced by our camera's default "CSI Miama" setting

Colour enhanced by our camera’s default “CSI Miama” setting

One of Anny’s friends had arranged for us to have access to a private driver for the day on Friday, allowing Bron and I to see the sights of Guilin whilst Anny joined her classmates in a visit to their old university (and some of their old lecturers). A true magical mystery tour (but maybe more confusing than magical) with our driver setting off with neither instruction nor indication of where he was heading.  He took us to three of Guilin’s star attractions: To Guilin Princes’ City, a historical site over 600 years old (older than Beijing’s Forbidden City); to the Reed Flute cave which I’m afraid trumps Wookey Hole Caves in Somerset for its sheer size and weirdly shaped growths; and finally, to the Li River Folk Custom Centre.

Suspiciously like Chinese Morris Dancing

Suspiciously like Chinese Morris Dancing

I’m in danger of overusing the word ‘bizarre’; instead I’ll just state that our stop at the Custom Centre probably required a tour guide to fully explain what was going on.  In fact, as Bron and I seemed to be the only people not visiting as part of a larger group, it seems a guide was standard practice.  So, as confused tourists, we watched a lady singing the same 20 second segment of a song at 1 minute intervals; we saw a performance by two ladies with long hair explaining how they wash and style their hair; we saw what looked strangely like Chinese Morris dancers; we missed the cock-fighting show despite the poster claiming we could participate if required.  The highlight was undoubtedly an hour long Chinese cultural performance.  Imagine an American at a pantomime*** and you’ll have some idea how Bron and I felt as the audience participated in mass-singalongs of Chinese folk songs whilst other audience members were hauled onstage to dance or sing along with the main performers. I think I’ve said before that the Chinese always seem to be in a hurry apart from walking along any street.  Whilst the performers were onstage doing their grand finale, the side doors opened to allow the audience members to leave when it had finished.  But nobody waited until it had finished.  Doors open, audience go.  Performers carry on but nobody is watching, instead everyone is making sure they’re not last out.  Like I say, we were Americans at a pantomime.

We met back up with Anny and her classmates for dinner, and of course, KTV (karaoke) with ‘Hey Jude’ being my addition to the evening.

Boat to YangshuoOn Saturday we took the slow boat down the Li river, taking in the spectacular scenery on our 5 hour journey to Yangshuo.  Normally famous for its ‘crystal clear’ waters, our trip followed a few days of heavy rain, leaving the river’s waters a distinctly Shanghai-esque brown colour (but caused by mud, not pollution).  Our route through the valley carved between the mountains gave us views not accessible by any other means of transport – a beautiful, relaxing journey down to Yangshuo.

Any tranquility experienced was immediately dispelled upon our arrival, with Yangshuo proving an extremely popular destination for tourists (far more so than Guilin).  A town seemingly built entirely for tourists, offering a microcosm of Chinese style buildings, shops and restaurants all within walking distance.  For those of us getting a little overfamiliar with Qingdao beer, the ‘London Tavern’ offered a respite with London Pride available on draft.

Dinner with Anny's classmates in Yangshuo

Dinner with Anny’s classmates in Yangshuo

On Saturday evening we joined Anny and her classmates for an evening meal overlooking the river.  Dinner for me consisted of a plethora of Chinese dishes; dinner for the mosquitos consisted of me.

Sunday’s bus journey back to Guilin didn’t offer quite the same picturesque views as our boat trip but did offer about a shorter route to get there. What the Chinese (lazy stereotyping warning) sometimes lack in planning, they more than make up for with spontaneity.  We arrived in Guilin mid-afternoon, back once more at the same hotel we’d originally stayed at, but this time without reservations since we were not staying the night. Bron and I still have no idea why we all met up there once again, but no matter – Anny negotiates an hourly rate for a room; it promptly becomes the defacto storage and meeting point for all.

Spring airlines: I know it’s not only your company that uses the excuse ‘Your flight is delayed due to the late arrival of the inbound aircraft‘, but you do seem to use it more often than other airlines. Unfortunately, it’s an excuse about as valid as claiming ‘This year’s spring has been delayed due to the late arrival of daffodils****’. 4.30am we arrived home on Monday morning. This with the alarm set for 8.30am to get up for our trip to Beijing. Thanks Spring.

This is the last of our trips we’ll make with Anny.  Over the last few months Anny has shown us aspects of Chinese life we’d never have otherwise encountered, taken us to some amazing places and introduced us to family members and friends who have all made us feel incredibly welcome. We will miss this aspect of our time in China more than most others.

*As is evident, I hold no geographic qualifications.

**I did ask how rice noodles are made.  Apparently nobody knows.

***If you’re an American reading this and have no idea what a pantomime is, make it top of your cultural activities list to do next time you’re in the UK near Christmas.

****As in, the former is related to  but does not directly cause nor explain the latter.