Onlookers to the level of Earth, or Form, at Borobudur.Monday, February 22, 2010
Banana leaf meal
Rice and curry served on a banana leaf in Kuala Lumpur's Little India. Down the block, men were patting nan into the sides of tandoors set right out onto the street, but it had been too long since my last Tamil vegetarian meal!Right after I ordered a fresh rectangle of banana leaf was placed in front of me, then in swift succession men came by with metal buckets ladling out their ingredients: curd rice, a little sweet, pickle, and appalam; plain boiled rice; potato curry, carrot curry, bean curry; and after I took the picture, three dals ladelled onto the rice - one with whole shallots, one with whole cloves of garlic, and a third liquidy one that blended into the tasty whole.
The waiters kept circling offering more food, and one in particular was playful about it. When I wanted "a little more rice", he gave me about 6 grains, then pulled back his scoop and just looked at me, waggling his head from side to side keeping the smile from his mouth but not from his eyes. Later when I was done, he came up and defiantly put one more sweet, smooth garlic clove into the centre of my leaf as if defying me not to eat it.
Everything was perfectly delicious (and not at all spicy - have I been chile-proofed by Thailand or is South Indian food less hot than it used to be??), so I had to get some laddu to go, too.
Borobudur!
Hot off the presses from my visit to the Buddhist temple of Borobudur in Java, Indonesia, this morning. It's reputed to be right up there with Angkor Wat (and Bagan, in Burma) - oh, and it is. One of the most beautifully intricate places I've visited, from the moralistic reliefs at the base, through the reliefs telling the jataka tales of Buddha's life, to the simple, beautiful stupas of "Nirvana" at the top level of the temple.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Burmese eggplant salad
Quite different from Thai grilled eggplant salad, this version is soft and non-spicy, with raw shallot and sesame the major flavours in an otherwise delicate taste.At Aiya restaurant in Mae Sot.
Early new year morning
Making offerings at temple in Mae Sot, Thailand. Apparently even though the Burmese New Year is in April like the Thai, Lao, and Cambodian ones, it's popular for many nearby Burmese to come across the border and pray here on Chinese New Year's day.This early, though, there were only local Chinese families making offerings and setting off firecrackers in the courtyard.
Lahpet thohk
Burmese pickled tea leaf salad, mixed with fried dried beans and peanuts, cabbage and tomato, sour salty hot and addictive.Served at Borderline women's craft collective and tea garden, Mae Sot, Thailand.
Dragon-strolling
Sadly I'm missing the acrobatic dragon dancing scheduled to take place over several floors of my local KL mall tomorrow -- I'm leaving disgustingly early for Java instead. So here's a more humble, laid-back dragon going from restaurant to restaurant in the alleys of Bangkok Chinatown in Feb 14. The city was very very red because besides the Chinese New Year decorations, Thais also go in for Valentine's Day...Kuala Lumpur is still all vibrant red and gold madness a week after the new year, with lots more going on all over the city. I'd be sorry to leave, except that Yogyakarta beckons...
Fried oysters
In a back alley off Yaowarat Road, Bangkok Chinatown. Hot panfried oysters on a bed of egg mixed with rice flour cake (noodle texture, but all one piece), with green onion and coriander.I ordered by pointing, and when I did so before at the same place it came with the oysters mixed into the cake, and with bean sprouts. I don't know the name of either dish but they're both delicious.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Happy tigers for everyone
Murals depicting the Chinese astrological signs in the same Chinese temple in Mae Sot, Thailand.It's not what you think
The thing about being in a volatile place like Mae Sot and having read a little too much about drive-by assassinations, is that when you hear what sounds like machine gun-fire in the middle of the night, well, it really could be.So it was a relief to walk around the next morning, Chinese New Year, and realise that it was actually just strings of red-paper covered firecrackers all along. As an added bonus, I also understood why there were little scraps of red paper everywhere too!
Photo: The courtyard of the Chinese temple in Mae Sot - I don't think its name was written in a script I could read but I think it's the only one, not far from the police station.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Patongkoh
From China to Malaysia, Vietnam to Burma, these sticks of fried dough are sold for breakfast.These ones are being made fresh in Laos, and were sold plain (slightly salty) or coated in sugar. They're deep-fried over a fire in a cart, then cooled in a conical woven basket the same shape as a sticky rice steamer before being dispensed to hungry customers.
Later, in Chiang Mai, I breakfasted on the same snack, served with hot sweet soy milk. It's especially delicious dipped right in the hot liquid, if a rather rich way to break a fast.
The dough sticks are yu tiao in Mandarin, and you can buy them in Chinese and Viet groceries all over Canada (though not usually as freshly made). In Laos, they're called pah thawng ko (or so wikipedia tells me) and in Thailand, patongkoh. But pointing and smiling works fine.
River weed
I just can't get enough river weed. These fresh bundles are being sold at the outdoor morning market in Luang Prabang.I never managed to try eating the fresh weed while I was in Laos, but I'm told that it's usually stirfried with garlic, and I am confident it's delicious. Next time...
Witnessing
Photo: Young monk with begging bowl, taking part in the sticky rice ceremony of alms-giving at sunrise, Luang Prabang.It's curious to go from very touristed places to very undertouristed ones, as your presence means such different things.
In a city like Luang Prabang, which in the past years has seen a huge surge in tourism, which as a small city is awash in the visiting, mostly European foreigners, you are one of a lucrative herd. People aren't surprised to see you. They might be enterprising, they might be weary, they might be genuinely friendly, but they've seen your type before.
When you get further out, even just to the outskirts and sidestreets of the same tourist town, is when you get more of a reaction. People look twice. Sometimes they even look shocked, frightened, as if you've intruded somewhere they thought they were safe - this is a terrible feeling. More often though, people stare openly and with interest, and usually with a generous smile.
It's a whole other feeling entirely in Mae Sot, a smallish town just east of the Thai-Burma border. It's not that foreigners are particularly rare, but most of them are longer-term visitors: volunteers and NGO workers. People's friendliness is stepped up a bit. You're a neighbour, probably even a good neighbour, since you're here for altruistic reasons. So many people say hi, especially kids, and your cheeks ache from smiling back.
The impact that your gaze has is very different too, from Luang Prabang to Mae Sot. Even though I love this photo, I have misgivings about having taken it at all. One of the most popular tourist sights in LP is the early morning alms-giving ceremony. Women get up in the dark to cook sticky rice, make meals, and then dress in their best sihn and blouse, with a temple scarf draped over their shoulders. They kneel in the early morning damp, mist, and chill with woven bamboo baskets in front of them. They wait patiently for the slow approach of the orange-robed monks in single file. The monks will come holding out their begging bowls, and each woman will offer a small ball (which she has pre-rolled) of rice to each monk, each offering a blessing. While the women wait, some chat, while others sit quietly with their faces closed in private meditation. When the monks approach, all the women become still, faces relaxed as they hand out the rice with a prayer, until all the wats have had their turn, and the women can return to their daily work.
It sounds beautiful, and it is. What the photo doesn't show, though, is what a miracle it is that there are no tourists obtruding into the still moment. Even though all over town there are stern documents instructing tourists on how not to ABSOLUTELY DESTROY the alms-giving ceremony, foreigners stand with their enormous cameras right up against the waiting women. The clicks and flashes (because it is still quite dark) rob the moment of its proper solemnity. Though their faces are controlled, it's not hard to imagine how irritating it is to drag yourself out of bed at 4am as a religious duty, a gift, only to have the meaning leached out by the presence of gawky pale people in quick-dry microfibre and fleece. Of course I still went, and I still took pictures, so I am just as guilty (though at a slightly greater distance).
It's the opposite in Mae Sot. There are so many pictures I haven't taken with my camera - but everywhere my eye falls I try to fix the image in my head - faces, artefacts, detention cells. Since being here (where I tend to forget I'm still in Thailand, so Burmese a town it is) I have learned so much more about the situation in Burma, culture and history as well as current deprivation and atrocities. I have met so many open, incredibly generous people, who are so willing to give of themselves, to sit down with me and teach me, even to house and feed me, so that I'll understand.
And on a trip that is largely on the other side, the tourist side of the equation, it's good to be reminded of the impact of witnessing. There is a sense of importance just in knowing, in being able to share stories when across an imaginary line, a border, there is so much armed force commiting crimes of silence, of lies and purges and misinformation. There is a value in seeing, listening, and bringing reality to what was previously abstract.
And there's more of a value when those stories are shared again and again - which I look forward to when I am home.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
tho-hmwe-t'o-da
I like knitting. In Burmese.That this phrase made the Lonely Planet phrasebook almost makes up for my other complaints about it...but not quite.
Photo: Bougainvillea in Bali.
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