Memories from my last Big Adventure

As I look forward to my upcoming 2 month Amtrak Trip, I find myself thinking about the last time I prepared to be gone for awhile. I went to Paris for 3 months in the fall of 2003. Here is an exerpt from my journal about my first day abroad.

Paris Memories Chapter 1: Arrival September 2, 2003

Well, I am off! We just left the ground. I have been waiting so long for this moment. I thought that I would feel more emotional, maybe I will later. I am sitting next to a very nice (and cute!) French journalism student and there is an open seat between us so we have plenty of room- yeah! I wonder what God has in store for me in the next three months. I have spent so much time and energy planning to be gone, checking things off my endless TO DO lists, wrapping one thing up after another- it is a bit odd to have all of that completed.



Tomas, my seatmate, ended up being really nice. The flight went fairly quickly considering it was 9 ½ hours in the second leg from Dallas. As soon as I had cleared customs (no line at all), picked up my luggage and was heading to the exit door a taxi driver came over and asked if I wanted some help. Next thing I knew he had my bags in the trunk of his car. It happened so quickly that I barely had time to ask him the price. When he told me the amount I knew it was too much but I figured that he already had my belongings so I should just get in.

He quickly sped away from the curb. As I looked out the windows for my first glimpse of France I saw a huge IKEA store; just like the one ½ a mile away from my condo in Emeryville that I loathe because every time they have a sale it snarls all of the traffic for miles around. It wasn’t exactly the first sight that I wanted to see here. Meanwhile my driver was yelling into his cell phone and weaving in and out of traffic at a crazy pace. He must have answered 20 calls during our ride into Paris. In between the calls he would glance at me in his rear view mirror and fire questions at me. He asked my address and then asked if I was sure. He lectured me on the dangers of my neighborhood, showing an obvious prejudice against the ethnic makeup of it. I began to worry a bit when he told me that I shouldn’t go out at night alone around there. Great. Just what I wanted to hear. Apparently the neighborhood was predominately Middle Eastern, African and Asian, a bit surprising to hear, but not necessarily a bad thing to me
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It only took about 20 minutes to get to my door. Because everything went so quickly at the airport and with the ride there I was about an hour and half earlier than the prearranged rendezvous with my landlady. I had the outside door code to get into the entryway but didn’t have a key for the “lobby” or my apartment. So I just brought my two suitcases inside and sat down on the big one to wait for Stephanie, my landlady, to show up. I ventured outside the door a bit to look at the farmers’ market that was set up on the main street (Rue Ornano) in front of my building. It did seem more ethnically diverse than I was expecting but not in an uncomfortable sort of way.

I returned to the entryway and sat down to read for awhile. Pretty soon a young Chinese man came down the stairs and looked at me. He asked me (in French, of course) who I was and what I was doing there. My tired brain worked overtime to explain in French that I was renting an apartment on the fourth floor for three months. He had a cell phone and helpfully said he could telephone my landlady to tell her that I was already here. I gave him her number and he talked to her and she told him she couldn’t come early, she had to wait for her lunch break. So Fong, my new French neighbor, kindly said that I could put my luggage in his apartment on the 2nd floor. He lives with his wife and three children and his parents in a small (bigger than mine, but only by two small bedrooms) apartment.

I forgot to mention this earlier, but one of my crazy worries for the past month was how I was going to lug my VERY heavy big suitcase up 4 flights of stairs. My building, like so many in Paris, is 6 stories( plus a lobby level) high, and there is no elevator. Being the somewhat lazy American that I am, I was not thrilled when I learned that there wasn’t an elevator and that every time I came in I would have to go 4 long flights.

Anyhow, Fong leaned over and picked up my big suitcase and hauled it up 2 flights to his apartment, with me apologizing as profusely as possible in French as I struggled after him with the other smaller bag. I met his family and he asked if I wanted to go for coffee downstairs. So we went back down to the café located on the bottom floor of my building. He ordered coffees for us and introduced me to one of the waiters who lived in our building as well.

Fong didn’t speak any English, so I tried the best I could to think of things to say to a complete stranger in French. After awhile we went back upstairs and we chatted some more until we heard Stephanie come in. We went down to meet her and then followed her up to my room, Fong once again carrying my huge suitcase. I thanked Fong and he said if I ever needed anything to just come by. I really was stunned by his hospitality and generosity to me.

Stephanie didn’t speak much English either and she talked very quickly. I hoped that I understood everything that I really needed to know. She wanted me to pay in cash for the deposit and the first month rent, but I had brought some of my money in Traveler’s checks in Euros. She finally agreed to take the deposit in the traveler’s checks but insisted on cash for the rent. She said that it was too hard to cash the traveler’s checks and later after it took me hours to find an institution that would do so, I understood her point. There had been a miscommunication about a DSL line, she thinking that I wanted one and me without a computer to use on it. She said she would cancel it, but in the process of doing that the phone service accidentally got cancelled as well. She showed me around and pointed out how to light the pilot lights on the stove and oven and how to turn on the heat and where the vacuum cleaner was located in the hall. We set a time for her to pick up the next month’s rent and then she hurried out to get back to work.

Finally I was alone in my own apartment in Paris. My first impression was that it was kind of dingy and very small and located in a questionable neighborhood. And it might have the world’s smallest kitchen and bathroom. But within minutes of arriving I had already met and been inside a Parisian’s home. Not exactly what I had expected. There is a view of Sacre Coeur from my window, if you stick your head way out that is. As soon as I opened the window I noticed that my place is in a flight pattern for the largest flock of pigeons that I have ever seen. Literally hundreds of birds zoomed around the corner of Rue Ornano onto Rue Hermel (my street) at my apartment level, past my window and settled on the roof of the building next to mine. This went on for about 5 minutes and then 10 minutes later they all went back the opposite direction. I was worried that they might stop short and fly into my room by accident, but that never happened. Also, there are some really nice big sycamore trees across the street which are quite pretty and remind me of the sycamore trees outside my window in Emeryville.

After dealing with Stephanie I changed, unpacked and went for a walk. I was a little nervous about getting lost because I was pretty jet lagged and not yet oriented. But I did fine. I located 2 parks, several boulangeries, many charcuteries, ATM’s, bus stops and the metro. There is a McDonald’s and two Pizza Huts within a couple of blocks. I hope that I will never actually go IN them. There are lots of little restaurants and brasseries but none looked especially appealing. I will have to do some further searching for my local hangout spots.

I have had a few brief thoughts of “What am I doing here? What have I gotten myself into?” I have no idea what this experience holds for me. Everything feels so new and foreign to me. It definitely is different to be in a place that you are going to try to make your new home versus just being a tourist and traveling through. I want cafes and stores and boulangeries to become familiar and to be able to interact with the owners and workers as someone would who lives here.

It is a very pleasant temperature here now, probably around 70 degrees and a little cloudy. It is about 4:00p.m. and I think that I am going to take a nice bubble bath and try to erase the travel grime and ache away. Hopefully I will be able to stay up for a few more hours, but I didn’t sleep on the plane so I have been up for about 26 hours already. While soaking in the tub I realized that there is a window at the end of the tub where the shower is hooked up that looks directly into the kitchen. How weird is that? Maybe the French think that it is "tres romantique"; I will have to put up a poster or something for when I have guests so that the person making breakfast doesn’t have to look at the naked person taking a shower. It is amazing how much they have crammed into this tiny bathroom. The toilet is squeezed in between the sink and a washing machine so tightly it is hard to sit on it correctly. On the other side of the washing machine is the big bath tub which has very high sides, requiring me to practically vault in and out of it. A clothes rack is strung above the tub and can be lowered by a set of pulleys. It is all tiled with pale blue tiles and there is a red, white and blue foot- shaped throw rug on the floor. It will be interesting adjusting to this apartment and to being in a foreign country. I am excited about the challenge and adventure of it all. But first of all I need to get some sleep.

Thai Chicken Curry

Here is the recipe of the week. The Thai Chicken Curry is best served over rice; jasmine would be my first choice for this dish. A nice green salad and some sliced mango would nicely round out the meal.

Thai Chicken Curry

1 14oz can unsweetened coconut milk
1-2 teaspoons red Thai curry paste, to taste
1 large red bell pepper cut into 1/4" strips
1 large onion thinly sliced
1 # chicken breasts or thighs, sliced into 1/2" strips
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1/2-1 tablespoons of fish sauce (nam pla)
1 large tomato cut into 1/2 " dice
1/3 cup thinly sliced basil
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

Directions:

1. Bring 1/4 cup coconut milk and the curry paste to a boil in large skillet, whisking constantly.
2. Add bell pepper and onion and saute for 5 minutes.
3. Add the chicken, the rest of the coconut milk, brown sugar and fish sauce.
4. Cook until chicken is cooked through, stirring often, about 5 minutes.
5. Stir in tomatoes, basil and lime juice and simmer 1 minute more.
6. Check for seasonings, add salt or a touch more fish sauce if desired.
7. Serve over rice.

Notes:
The fish sauce really gives it a Thai taste, but not everybody likes the taste of it and you don't want the dish to be fishy, so go light initially. You can always add more at the end. Likewise if you don't like things spicy go light on the curry. You can find Thai curry paste in most grocery stores. A little bit goes a long way. If you have other vegetables on hand that you want to throw in, just do it.

I hope you enjoy. The dish reheats well, so you could make it ahead or make extra for leftovers.

Enjoy!

Before Cafes

Before Cafes

I was an 80's girl. I went to jr. high, sr. high and college in the 80's. And not just anywhere, I grew up in LA, so I was an 80's Valley Girl. The word "like" was like totally , for sure, part of like every sentence that came out of the mouths of my friends. We would, like, go to the Mall, or the Galleria and shop till we dropped. Not having too much disposable income (baby sitting didn't pay all that much) we mostly window shopped. That didn't matter because it really was all about the hanging out.

When we weren't at the Galleria we were usually at the beach working on our awesome tans. Baby oil was slathered on and we toasted to a dark bronze. On weekend nights we would drive around and either end up at the Griffith Park Observatory, Westwood, the movies or "Love in Lights" which was an undeveloped hilltop that overlooked the valley and where the street lights spelled out "Love". No joke. It was a favorite place to "Park" or to just kick it.

The other alternative was to rent a video and gather at someone's house. If it was my house it meant going to the one video store in town that rented "betamax" movies. My dad opted for the beta machine because it was better quality, but America voted and it chose the cheaper VHS alternative. In the beginning the betamax was just another version of the video players but eventually it became outdated enough that it felt on the par of having an 8 track tape player.

The other thing about watching movies at my house was that my mother had an uncanny sense of when a "bad or risque" scene was about to happen. She would invariably walk in at just that moment and declare, "I can't believe you kids watch that kind of junk!" If there was only one questionable moment in the movie my mom would see it. Our protests that that was the only bad part never seemed valid. I think this super power is related to the one that allowed mom to know if anyone had their hand in the cookie jar even though she was three rooms away.

It is hard now to imagine life before cafes, but in the 80's in most of LA there really weren't any cafes. There was one in Pasadena, but you had to be "in the know" to find it since it was hidden down an alley off of a main street. It was called "The Espresso Bar" and we thought it was incredibly cool. But mostly we went to Bob's Big Boy or Tommy's Burgers or Baskin Robbins Ice cream to hang out and eat with friends.

Then I went to Berkeley for college and discovered that there were cafes on every corner. Each one unique with its own atmosphere and personality and clientele. That was before the giant Starbucks takeover of our country. Thankfully, Berkeley is the kind of town that doesn't want to be like every other city and it is pretty careful to not let chain stores take over. There are some Starbucks and other chain establishments around, but not on the south or north sides of campus. The independent cafes and bookstores are holding their ground and Berkeley retains its funky feel.

Now it is almost impossible to go anywhere and not find a cafe of some sort. I really like that because cafes lend themselves to great people watching, reading, hanging out with friends and legal stimulants (caffeine). In the last five minutes I have had two people come up to me to ask about my laptop and whether I can get wireless service here. Often someone will ask about a book that I am reading or if I know about something or other. I do think that I must send out some signal that says "I am approachable" because I do seem to have lots of interactions with strangers.

I spend quite a bit of my free time in cafes. I get excited when a new one opens like the chocolate cafe called Bittersweet on College Avenue in Oakland or the Italian Cafe Trieste on San Pablo in Berkeley.I still like to window shop, by myself or with friends, but I have barely stepped into a mall in the past 2 decades. I rarely slip into using "like" every other word. Occassionaly, by request, I will do a good Valley Girl imitation, just for fun.

Fourth Street

I plan to write about some of my favorite Bay Area spots in my blog. One of those places is Fourth Street, Berkeley.

Although I thoroughly enjoy living in my condo in Emeryville, I am not one of those people who can just putter around home all day without venturing out. I need to have places that I can go to hang out and to feel like I am part of a community. Many of us Emeryville residents have adopted Fourth Street as our neighborhood spot even though we are two miles away.

I get really frustrated when I have to fight traffic or parking, so I figure out what times are the best to go to all my favorite places. Some people have only been to Fourth Street during the middle of the day or during the holidays when it is way over crowded and parking feels impossible. But in reality, most of the time it is quite easy. I go in the morning before 10:00am or in the afternoons after 3:00pm and never have to fight for a parking space.

Once you are parked everything is easily within walking distance. My first stop is usually at Bette's, Peet's or Tacubaya. Bette's breakfasts are always delicious and completely satisfying. My favorite order is the "California Breakfast" which is two poached eggs on top of thinly sliced grilled ham on toast. The really indulgent part is the fabulous lemon-butter they pour over it. The plate is rounded out with grilled tomatoes, onions and homefries. A bottomless mug of strong Peet's coffee is essential, of course. The potential 1-1 1/2 hour wait to get in is easily avoided if you are by yourself and willling to sit at the counter. I actually think it is great to be at the counter. It has a throwback- to- the -50's feel as well as the bonuses of seeing the short order cooks sling the food and maybe even meeting someone interesting sitting next to you.

If you are with other people, you should be prepared to wait an hour to be seated. If you know it's likely to happen, the wait it isn't quite as big of a shock. Convienetly located next door is Bette's To Go which serves great coffee drinks, pastries and some deli items. (Hint: try one of the old-fashion muffins which are a cinnamon sugar delight and resemble a cross between a muffin and a doughnut or another winner is the homemade cinnamon crumble coffee cake) You can grab some coffee and sit on the benches or at the tables outside and chat it up while you people- watch. There are even newspaper stands on the sidewalk if you forgot to bring some reading material.

A more recent culinary option on Fourth Street is Tacubaya, a Mexican cafe just down the row from Peet's. I wish that it opened before 10:00am because it is hard to wait that long to munch on their chilaquiles ( homemade tortilla chips sauteed in a very spicy red guajillo chili sauce and topped with scrambled eggs, onions , queso fresca and cilantro). If you can't quite take the heat, there is the chorizo scrambled eggs served with freshly mashed and refried black beans and hot- off -the- grill homemade tortillas. For lunch they offer tacos which are so good that they make you understand what tacos are really supposed to taste like. The first time I went I ordered a cup of coffee to go with my breakfast. As I drank it I wondered why in the world did it taste so good. I went back to the counter to read the menu again and discovered that the coffee was from a new local small roaster named "Blue Bottle" and then was brewed by the cup to order. I instantly became a fan and have a new awareness about how the roasting process can effect the outcome of one's coffee. (For more info on coffee roasting go to sweetmarias.com)

There are wonderful shops on Fourth Street to browse or spend tons of money in. There used to be more outlets offering good prices, but now only Crate and Barrell and Dansk are truly outlets with discounted prices. That being said, I love to walk through Sur La Table and fill my head with culinary dreams or buy birthday gifts at the delightful children's store. There are boutiques of all kinds, a Hear Music store, a gourmet organic Gelato shop, a Cody's bookstore as well as the expected Restoration Hardware, Z Gallery and Garden Store. Yet even with all of these shops beckoning me what I usually do is head to the patio stretching from Peet's to the Pasta shop, grab a coffee or snack and read.

Well, I intend to read. Often I do, but the people-watching is so interesting that I can just sit there for hours, soaking in the life all around me. Right now as I am writing this outside of Peet's there is a trio of musicians playing, parents pushing kids in strollers while negotiating around the tables and through the dogs who are enjoying a morning out with their owners and streams of colorful people strolling about. I see a friend come out of Peet's with his son and he stops for a quick chat. I almost always run into people I know here, but they frequently are not my close friends, rather they are people I have known in one capacity or another over the years and probably wouldn't see if we hadn't casually run into each other here. Those sorts of encounters feel like a little surprise gift to me.

I like being here before the shops open so I can watch the storekeepers go about their routines of setting up for the day. The flower stall owner sets up the flowers that she bought before dawn at the flower mart, the wait staff at Cafe Rouge and Tacubaya set up their tables and chairs outside and everything is put in place for the shops to do business. There is something about the daily rhythm that seems peaceful to me. I sense a kind of beauty in it all.

There are lovely old sycamore trees all around which the sunlight shines through. People sit on the ledge above the sidewalk or at the tables and chairs on the patio and drink their coffee or eat deli foods from the Pasta Shop and talk with each other. Every now and then Amtrack cruises by loudly blowing its' whistle. It is all ordinary stuff, yet I love it and feel blessed to be able to be here, part of it and observing it at the same time.

Chocolate Ginger Cookies

Hi!

I said that I would do a recipe a week, so here goes. I am making these fabulous cookies for work this week which means I will be making about 600. I will give the recipe for about 2 dozen. I have some friends who make the dough, scoop it into balls, quickly freeze on a cookie tray and then throw them into a ziploc bag so they can cook them up fresh whenever they want.

Chocolate Ginger Cookies

7 oz good semisweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate bar
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
8 tablespoons butter (1 stick)
1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
1/2 cup brown sugar, packed
1/4 c molasses
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons boiling water

1/4 c granulated sugar

Directions:
1. Grease or line with parchment paper 2 cookie trays and turn oven to 325.
2. Whisk together flour, spices and cocoa.
3. In a mixer beat together butter and grated ginger until lightened, about 4 minutes
4. Add brown sugar, beat to combine. Add molasses, beat to combine.
5. In a small bowl mix the baking soda and boiling water.
6. Add half the flour mix into the batter. Add the baking soda mix. Beat. Add the rest of the flour, beat.
7. Mix in chocolate chips.
8. Using a small ice cream scoop or two dinner spoons scoop into about 2 dozen balls.
9. Roll balls in sugar, put on the prepared pans and flatten slightly with the bottom of a glass or jar.
10. Bake at 325 for 12 minutes, until the surfaces crack slightly .Let cool.


I would recommend doubly the recipe and freezing half as I described above.

Hope you enjoy!

Amy