shiso mama

We are back, but thanks to our very own little germ sponge, we are feeling under the weather. Our trip was — hmm, mixed, I guess?

In Jamaica we swam and sat on the beach. Doing such relaxing and aimless things used to make me a little antsy. But now? My lazy butt loves it. I knit a good portion of the baby sweater I’m now making for spawn #2 with Otis happily digging in the sand beside me. If only the sun came out during our visit, and we didn’t have hurricane-force gales blowing us all over the beach (see it blowing Otis’s hair around? No wonder each and every Jamaican we encountered referred to him as a girl).

Then we headed to New York. It really feels like the Christmas there, especially up on Fifth Avenue, with the tree at Rockefeller Center, all the holiday decorations, and every girl under the age of 12 carrying a shopping bag from the American Place. Our hotel was across the street from Ground Zero, where, unfortunately, construction continues unrelentingly from 5am until as late as midnight. That was somewhat of a disaster, but it was still fun walking all over the city (we made a pilgrimmage to the Makie store) and visiting friends, even with a sick, feverish Otis. I will sadly admit, though, that as close as New York still feels to my heart, finally, on this last trip, it no longer feels anything like home anymore.

But you know what finally happened during this trip that is MOST exciting to me?

Drawing happened! Finally! Otis started drawing a lot during this trip, always requesting his art supplies, even sitting for long stretches while I sat in bakeries and chatted with friends. During our last trip to Taiwan, I stocked up on these fantastic, thin sketchbooks at Muji (we wnt teo the new store in Manhattan, though it’s disappointingly sparse compared to the ones in Asia), and they are light enough to throw into my purse with a packet of oil pastels without being cumbersome. Do you have any idea how happy this makes me??

Yes, we’re finally home. I must say that despite all the driving we did, this was the most relaxing vacation we’ve ever had as a family - probably because we didn’t fly far away to spend quality time with family. I was concerned about Otis sitting in the car for such long stretches, but he was a total champ, and we didn’t even have to break out the DVD player. We got to see even more friends in Portland than we had planned (I guess it IS as small as they claim it is), and our friends (whom I will remind you had twins 5 months ago!) were as relaxed and gracious a set of hosts as you could want. Great food, fantastic company and lots and lots of wine. What more could you ask for? Here are some highlights:

the park that rocked Otis’s universe: Jamison Park

It’s a water park full of crazed and happy toddlers, where kids are allowed to jump in whole hog. I had been warned to bring some extra clothes, but we were still a little inappropriately dressed the first day:

So of course we had to go back the next day, properly clad:

They’re pretty serious about their coffee in Portland, and it’s just heaven for addicts like us. From Stumptown to the farmers’ market at PSU, we drank and drank and drank.

We learned something during our trip: despite all evidence to the contrary, it IS possible to get sick of baked goods.

I guess it’s because we visited Voodoo Donuts, Saint Cupcake, St. Honore, Crema, Fressen and Ken’s Artisan Bakery. Huh, this list makes us look a little crazy, doesn’t it? Sadly, there were many more bakeries on our list that we never got to.

On our way back, we went to the Treesort, and it’s pretty cool. And perfect for a city lover like me who likes showers, plumbing and electricity. We tried to get Otis excited about the treehouses (I mean, we stayed in a teepee in a tree, for Pete’s sake!) but all Otis could think about was the horses. If you can suffer the bad tree puns that they’re so fond of, I would highly recommend this place for families. Look at this bridge (where I learned that I am afraid of heights after all):

We spent most of our time looking at the horses, sitting on the rocking horses or talking about horses. This, despite the fact that Otis got nipped in the head by one of the grumpier horses. Otis did get to feed the horses some carrots, though I’ll complain that the excitement did cause Otis to run towards the electrified fence repeatedly.

One last stop at the newly expanded Nut Tree (much fancier than in my day) and we were home.

If you haven’t had enough, come over to our house, and I’ll show you a very long slide show of the rest of our vacation. Fun! Extra points if anyone gets my movie reference in the title of the post.

Hong Kong:

catching up and laughing with an old friend… shopping during rainy season… afternoon tea at the Peninsula… a bittersweet get-together with another friend over dim sum at the China Club.

Shanghai:

stopping every few feet for visits with local guardians…

feeding the koi at the jade buddha temple…

marvelling at the beautiful teas and teapots at this lovely store…

exploring the legendary gardens of suzhou…

climbing down the 108 stairs at hanshan temple (although insisting on being carried UP every single stair of the much steeper side)…

desperately searching for a cure for ham-my mug-osis…

Just two more days here and we head back home.  I’ve been feeling pretty homesick and am looking forward to seeing my husband, my friends, my neighbors and my house.  And curiously enough, I miss my old friend Trader Joe.  Isn’t that weird?

*****

One side note - living in Berkeley, we are so used to seeing families of all different configurations, particularly mixed race families like ours (”our demographic!” as our neighbor likes to joke while giving us the raised fist salute). Having been in Asia for so long, whenever I see a Western face, I pause for a moment, almost waiting for some sort of flicker of recognition, a little, Hey, you’re American! And your baby, he’s half white! But that moment never comes because we generally blend in pretty well here in Taiwan, especially since my parents live in an area with a large expat community.

So it was a bit of a shock to be in Shanghai. Otis was quite the attraction there. While walking around, folks stopped dead in their tracks to stare at Otis and talk about him. People walked out of their way, colliding with each other, to get a good look. Baby-loving tweens ran up to him and cupped his face in their hands. Waitresses begged to hold him, and salesladies ran to offer him gifts.

I haven’t experienced anything like it before. When F and I were in Vietnam on our honeymoon, we were stared at quite a bit, but in a more aggressive, antagonistic manner. People see very few hapa kids in China, so they were very curious about Otis. His long hair and somewhat “pretty” features made it so that people couldn’t tell if he was a boy or girl, and the Chinese words coming out of his mouth amused them to no end.

It was strange to be so strikingly cast as an outsider and a curiosity, especially in a place where I thought we would blend right in - I mean, it’s the Motherland, people! I personally would want to shrivel up and die under such scrutiny, but Otis revelled in it. He’s an attention hog, that one. If I was more of a stage mom, I’d pack my bags right now and move us right out to China to make Otis a superstar.

One of the first things I have to do when I come back to Taiwan is head over to Shiao Ding’s (Little Ding’s) and have some traditional Chinese breakfast food. Shiao Ding has been around for at least 20 years, serving up breakfast in their little shack of a building. They moved away for a while because their building was condemned, but business at their new site was poor, so they moved back, at reduced rent and with the understanding that the landlord was not responsible if the roof caved in. It adds to the air of authenticity to eat street food with the possibility of the building falling on your head, don’t you think?

Here are a few things you can eat:

soy bean milk

This one’s salty, with pickled mustard stems, tiny dried shrimp, crispy pieces of you tiao (chinese donut), cilantro, scallions, chili oil, sesame oil, soy sauce and vinegar, which gives it a sort of curdled look. Maybe sounds a little gross, but it’s tasty. You can also have soy bean milk sweetened with sugar, hot, warm or cold.

Here’s you tiao, which is a long piece of fried dough, airy inside. A bowl of hot sweet soy bean milk with you tiao used to be my favorite meal as a kid, but now I’m more of a salty fan.

This is shao bing, which is a flaky sesame flatbread. Many people split them open and fill them with fried egg, you tiao or sliced meat (although you really eat that in restaurants rather than at streetside vendors). The one in the picture is actually a sweet one, with a slightly sweet sugar filling.

Another one of my favorites: fan tuan. It’s a glutinous rice ball, with filling inside. I like mine sweet, with you tiao, ground peanut powder and sugar, but it’s more common to find salty ones, filled with picked mustard stems, pork or fish sung (which is dried and fried) and you tiao). It’s chewy and crunchy at the same time, and I love them.

I don’t eat these that often, but they are very popular: dan bing. It’s an egg, fried with scallions, and just as it’s about to set and finish cooking, a pancake is thrown on top. They slice it up and serve it with thick soy sauce.

Shiao Ding serves a few other things, but these are my favorite.  I can get most of these things in California fairly easily, but it just never tastes as good.  And newer, cleaner, safer places have opened up near my parents’ house, but I think my heart will always belong to Shiao Ding.

things we’re looking forward to:
- unconditional love from family members (one of us will get it, anyways)
- meeting our new cousin/niece, Ashley
- the swimming pool at my grandmother’s apartment complex (see above)
- learning a lot more chinese
- bao bing (shaved ice), bbq corn, yummy tropical fruit, peanut mochi, amazingly fresh and affordable sashimi
- the night markets

things we will miss:
- gentle breezes, low humidity, sunshine that doesn’t scald, and cool evenings
- Tuesday night dinners with Emmett et famille
- our friends and neighbors
-  the farmers’ markets

I’ve returned to my house and my family, exhausted and exhilarated, still not quite able to say that New York is not my home anymore, after all these years and changes later. I guess this is what happens when one insists on making much of one’s visit about nostalgia, revisiting old neighborhoods and former favorite haunts to track changes.

I went to spy on our little house, which you can see in the crappy picture I took above (it’s nearly impossible to take a good picture down a long narrow passageway, and then the family that now lives there spilled out of their door as I was weeping with nostalgia by the gate, so I had to leap out of the way so as not to seem creepy). If you were to walk down that passageway, you would see the cozy garden with the great big cherry tree and our little red brick house. Yes, the use of repeated use of the word “our” is, of course, incorrect.

I got to spend time with great friends, meet babies, and I walked and walked and walked. In New York City caliber shoes, no less, and I didn’t need to run into Old Navy to buy flipflops until just about the last minute, although my feet still ache. I came home with the suitcase full of bagels for F. And I nearly died when I saw a pair of complementary grandpa pants in F’s size, but then I figured out that the “splurge” worthy price was only for the suspenders!!!

It was funny being away from Otis, always wondering what he was doing. He had more fun this weekend than the previous two years of his life (an entire day with his BFF! a birthday party with ice cream cake! much TV watching at Grandma R’s!), so I don’t think he missed me much. But I was pretty excited to come home and watch Otis munch on maltballs from one of my favorite stores in New York:

I’m pretty sure he looks older and taller and his eyebrows more F-like now than last Thursday.

Other highlights from the trip, in case you’re wondering:

did I say cauliflower pizza?
fantastic imported Japanese fabric that I did NOT buy
the coolest, most drool-worthy clothes, including some tasty frocks from Mina Perhonen
not as impressed with the architecture as I hoped I’d be
well, at least they’re opening one in SF

We’re back from Jamaica, slightly tan (I prefer to sit in the shade, F is physically incapable of tanning, and Otis’s fate remains to be seen) and slightly more relaxed, although the return home nearly did us in, what with the 3 1/2 hour delay while we sat (and some of us screamed) on the plane, missing the last flight to San Francisco by 20 minutes and being forced to spend the night in the Holiday Inn by the Miami Airport.

But overall we had a great time. It’s a luxury to be forced to do much of nothing. We hung out with a newly walking Jack and his family, and the boys generally played well together, even though Otis kept stealing all of Jack’s toys (he’s not that much bigger, but he’s faster, for now). Otis had a fantastic time on the beach. Here he is with some of his favorite combos:

the sand and a snack (although this was not as enjoyable as another combo he discovered - a new friend who doesn’t mind winning a baby’s affections with oodles of exciting snacks)

the sand and a truck

He also discovered the ocean, which was heaven on earth for him. He loved the feeling of the water breaking across his legs, knocking him over into the water. He loved how the tide pulled the sand towards the water, rushing past his ankles and tickling his toes. And he loved going into the ocean with F to swim, bobbing up and down in the waves. When he wasn’t trying to go in for a swim, he was chasing the water, trying to scoop it up into buckets and watering cans so that he could drag it onto the beach and promptly dump it onto the sand.

Here’s a gratuitous butt shot:

We hear that at the big party last year (the trip is for F’s work, and we go somewhere warm every year, although we missed last year’s trip), there was a woman who was wearing nothing but a layer of chocolate, who had to be escorted out of the party when that vague sinking feeling finally turned into double takes and embarassed laughter. Boy we were sorry to miss that. This year, there was nothing more exciting than a skinny woman wearing a pushup bra and a skirt which also happened to be the tablecloth, passing out the hotel’s signature “No problem, mon!” cocktail.

We tried to keep Otis on California time, but somehow his tiny little internal clock just seems to prefer waking up at 7am local time, no matter where we are. He unfortunately went to bed as though it was still Pacific Standard Time, though, so it was a few days of fatigued, manic energy as he became more and more tired. I’m glad to be home. Oh, and PS? I think Santa’s going to give us a portable DVD player for Christmas.

Hello friends,

We’re off to Jamaica tonight, for a weekend of sun, sand, and work-related functions.  We’ll be back after Monday, hopefully tanner and more relaxed.  Have a great weekend! 

 xo!

I’ve been wanting to post about tenugui, which I discovered while we were in Japan. I saw these mysterious little pieces of fabric all over Tokyo, often in the Japanese craft/souvenir section of department stores. They were long and narrow, looked like scarves, and had beautiful prints on them. I try to keep souvenir-ish purchases to a minimum since I hate clutter, but I couldn’t resist buying just a few of them.

I asked one of the cheerful salesladies what these things were for. “Kitchen towel. Cleaning.” What? These amazing things? For cleaning? You mean I can use something this beautiful instead of F’s old boxer shorts? It seems crazy, obscene, and somehow so Japanese. Even the act of cleaning should still have beauty. Yes, yes, I’m showing my embarassing fetish for all things japonesque again. I can’t help it. Look at these things. F got me the best ones, the cherry and the train.

I definitely think the designers of train/cherry/flower pattern has some of the best designs I saw. You can see them at Raak. Actually, many beautiful things are actually made with these fabrics, so it’s not all just scrubbing the toilet. We bought this for Fifth Aunt Grandma K:

We spent a lot of our precious time in Tokyo in the bookstores since I am obsessed with Japanese craft books. I found two books on tenugui that not only show some beautiful examples of the craft, but also lots of helpful suggestions on what to do with them:

Maybe you want to use them to help exercise. Lord knows I really need a tool to help me when I stretch and squat. Maybe you’re enjoying a cold beer and you need something around your neck to help keep it warm. Maybe you want to dress your daughter up like a Japanese Daisy Duke.

Or maybe you find yourself outdoors and you find yourself in need of a hat. That doesn’t cover your face. And that you have to hold together with both your hands.

I’m afraid this one doesn’t pass the Shiso Standards Test. When we were kids, we used to fold our dinner napkins this way when we got bored, but we would hold them up to our chests and pretend they were bras.

Shopping in Japan is one of the great pleasures in life. It’s fun browsing the small boutiques in hip neighborhoods, selling interesting and expensive designs, many cult classics that you won’t see anywhere else. I also love looking at the more traditional Japanese designs, the wonderful papers and fabrics, the exquisite kimonos.

But my all-time favorite kind of shopping in Japan is to troll the stores that sell every day items - the convenience stores, the drug stores, the stationery stores, the variety stores, and their version of the 99 cent stores. One of my favorite stores in the whole wide world has got to be Tokyu Hands. It's as big as a department store, but it's filled with all kinds of fantastic, esoteric gems. You can find something for every purpose you could possibly think of. For lack of a better term, it's a massive variety store. I could have spent my entire vacation there.

I took some pictures of some of my favorite finds in Tokyo, mostly of the craft and beauty variety. It doesn't even begin to do any justice to treasures you can find in Japan.

At Tokyu Hands, I found supplies to make your own dolls. But these aren’t the sweet, innocent dolls that you find at the local craft stores, these are more for grown-ups, with sophisticatedly articulated parts. The men are very muscular, and come in three colors:

But the female dolls are the interesting ones. They are all svelte (of course), but you can choose breast size! There's the round, implant-sized handful of breasts; your more natural looking, every-day breasts that you can take home to meet Mom; and the smaller, modest version (which you can't see in the picture). Personally, I'd probably take the porn star.

Here's something to help guide your mouth into an attractive, thin line. I guess they don't like Angelina Jolie-like lips in Japan. Or maybe it's to train you to stop smiling?

On the other hand, here's a smile trainer. You know, in case you don't have a new in-law who's a model who can give you pointers. I love the before and after pictures.

This must be some sort of moisturizing, protective mask or another, but can you imagine WAKING UP to this? It must scare you shitless for the first couple of weeks, at least.

I have no idea what this is, but for some reason, I find it deeply intriguing. What could it possibly be? Surely it couldn't be a holster? It's called a schlank, for Pete's sake!

I should've taken more pictures of stuff. But is it a mystery to anyone why I love Japan?