SKIPPING ON TOP OF CLOUDS

Fall Leaves in Central Park and Bergdorf Goodman Holiday Windows

2011-12-01T12:48:00.007-05:00

The sun gods treated us to a special Thanksgiving weekend, warming us up with 60-degree temperatures. Sunday marked the last time of the year where I would be able to sit at the park in a short-sleeved top, run along the Hudson without a sweater, and watch the Central Park rollerskaters without my feet freezing. After brunching in the Upper East Side, a few of us walked to Central Park to view the foliage and stare in bewilderment at the old man who bounced non-stop up and down as if he was having seizures while rollerskaters and dancers glided around him.

We walked down 5th Avenue to help digest our brunch and check out the holiday lights. I typically hate walking down the tourist-clogged streets of 5th Avenue, but during this time of the year, the lights entrance me, forcing me to slow my pace and stare up at the sparkling buildings.

Bergdorf Goodman had the best holiday windows I've ever seen. The theme was "Carnival of Animals" and each of the five elaborate windows was designed using different materials. Here we have paper...

...mosaic...

...textile...

...metal...

...and wood.

Saks Fifth Avenue's windows paled in comparison to Bergdorf's so I didn't even bother taking pictures of them. After we left Saks, we passed by some other buildings with holiday lights.

Trump Tower

Fendi

Cartier

Tanning, Dancing and Celebrating Love in Anguilla

2011-11-30T18:47:00.001-05:00

About two weeks after I returned from India, I went to Anguilla with my bf for his friends' wedding. Without any direct flights from NYC to Anguilla, we flew into St. Maarten and then took a boat to our destination, aka paradise.

We stayed at the CuisinArt Resort & Spa. When I first heard the resort's name, I thought, Why would Cuisinart create a resort? Is the place pimped out with its eponymous kitchen appliances? But I was wrong. The resort has no affiliation with the Cuisinart with the lowercase 'a.'

The first night we went to the Dune Preserve, a beach bar by our resort, to listen to Bankie Banks, a famous raggae artist.

We went to sleep and woke up in the morning to the sound of gentle waves rolling to and from the shore.

The view from our room.

The mountains on St. Maarten.

The whitewashed walls of the resort along the warm, clear waters of Rendezvous Bay.

Elvis Beach Bar in Sandy Ground.

On one of the days we drove through unpaved rocky roads to get to Junk's Hole Bay. With the exception of a couple of other people on the beach, our group had ocean to ourselves.

After we drove to Captain's Cove, an isolated beach only reachable by driving through rocky terrain.

During the night of the rehearsal dinner, we lit wishing lanterns and released them into the sky. I hate littering and polluting the earth, but the sky looked magical with the bright lantern lights ascending, getting smaller and smaller as they disappeared into the darkness.

The calm waters of Crocus Bay set the backdrop for the wedding ceremony.

This is the most beautiful destination wedding I've ever (and only) been to.

We drank and danced the night away at Da Vida Restaurant, which is next to the ceremony site. The after party was at the bride and groom's villa, where we ate finger licking ribs and chicken wings from a food truck.

View of St. Maarten as we rode on the boat to head back to NYC.

Whenever I travel to a country, I typically don't want to go back because I want to experience new places. But in Anguilla the locals are so friendly, the road food is a party in my mouth, and the turquoise ocean is warm and relaxing, that I wouldn't mind going again.

Two-Month Trip Wrap Up Report

2011-11-15T19:08:00.009-05:00

Fifty-five days, three continents, eight countries, 13 cities. I strolled through the most romantic streets in Paris, ate flavorful food from street stalls with a friend in Marrakech, got a full body scrub in a communal shower by an old woman in Essaouira, met distant relatives for the first time in Annemasse, breathed in fresh air as I walked around the serene lake in Geneva, received a visual history lesson on WWII and the Cold War in Berlin, was enchanted by colorful baroque architecture and cobblestoned streets in Prague, met a group of fascinating free-spirited travelers in Vienna, savored mouthwatering pasta and gelato with friends in Rome, stayed at a Tibetan monastery and arm wrestled with a five-year old monk in Mundgod, India, thought I was going to die in a car accident in the chaotic streets of New Delhi, meditated underneath the bodhi tree where Buddha once sat to reach enlightenment in Bodh Gaya, and watched bodies burn in a Hindu ritual along the Ganges River in Varanasi.

All my family and friends asked what was my favorite city. It's hard to choose just one because I had unique experiences in all of them. Paris is, hands down, the most beautiful city that makes you want to fall in love with someone just so you can kiss that person as you cross the bridge Pont Alexandre III or as you stand in front of the Eiffel Tower as it lights up at night. The people in Morocco are welcoming (as long as they're not trying to sell you something or extort money from you by leading you to a wrong address) and their culture is rich in traditions. Lake Geneva and the surrounding mountains provide a glimpse of the natural magnificence of Switzerland's landscapes. Rome or any city in Italy will never fail your tastebuds. India will assault your five senses and literally clog your lungs, but if you learn to embrace the culture and the people's spiritual way of life, your soul is nourished for a lifetime.

During the time that I was away from the comforts of my own bed, familiar faces and the English language, I rediscovered that if you open up yourself to trust strangers and to experiences outside of your comfort zone, you will have more enriching experiences than if you were to travel in fear and with a closed mind. This trip rekindled my passion for seeing the world, the way different people live and think. It reminded me to live in the present, that you can be amid chaos and poverty and still be happy if you have inner peace, and to be appreciative of your life because most people in the world would fight to have a fraction of what you have. And most importantly of all, it showed me that despite all the incredible experiences I had, none of it would matter if I wasn't able to come home to share my stories with the people I love.

New Delhi, India: The Red Fort

2011-10-28T04:51:00.001-04:00

Thursday, October 27

The trains to Agra were sold out and I didn't feel like taking a car so I will not be seeing the Taj Mahal. Several people told me that Shah Jahan, the king who created the Taj Mahal, had the workers' hands cut off after they completed building the mausoleum so that they couldn't build another one for someone else. I tried to verify it but couldn't find anything.

Since I couldn't see the Taj Mahal, I ended up going to see the Red Fort, also constructed by Shah Jahan. It was unimpressive.

South Indian vegetarian food. I like Indian food, but I'm curried out.

Varanasi, India: Ganges River and Sarnath

2011-10-28T04:20:00.004-04:00

Monday, October 24 - Tuesday, October 25

I slept on the top bunk on the train ride to Varanasi. Every now and then I'd wake up to the sound of a man yelling, "Chai, chai!"

The bunks were covered by curtains. The bathroom didn't have a toilet. Women have to squat and pee through a hole in the ground.

We arrived in Varanasi around 10:30am and tried to drive to the Ganges River but traffic came to a standstill from all the people shopping for Diwali. Most people around us were on motorcycles, bicycles and on foot and tried maneuvering through whatever opening they could find. One cow walked past our car. We decided to get out of the car and walk to the river.

The area in front of the river.

So skinny.

The Ganges is considered one of the most holiest places for Hindus, who believe that bathing in the river absolves them of all sins.

The river has many ghats, or steps leading down to the water.

People bathing in the river.

Manikarnika Ghat, where the dead are cremated and their ashes are placed in the river. Cremations take place 24 hours a day and about 400 are performed daily. Hindus believe that being burned at the river provides instant liberation from the cycle of reincarnation. A local Tibetan woman who took us around said that when she was younger, her mom told her that every person should see a cremation at least once in his/her life in order to see the complete cycle of life, that every beginning has an ending.

Local women aren't allowed at this ghat. From our boat, we could see orange cloth covering the bodies, several fires burning the bodies and men in the river mixing the ashes with the river (I later found out that they're probably searching for jewelry). I watched men place a body on top of wooden logs but we left before they started the fire.

The next morning we went to Sarnath, the area where Buddha first taught the dharma.

The excavated site probably used to contain a temple.

Many people pray at Dhamekh Stupa, which commemorates the spot where Buddha gave his teaching.

I think I have seen enough religious sites to last me a lifetime.

Bodh Gaya, India: Mahabodhi Temple and the Great Buddha Statue

2011-10-28T03:26:00.003-04:00

Friday, October 21 - Sunday, October 23

On Friday, October 21st, I drove from Mundgod to Goa in order to fly to New Delhi. If there was anytime I'd die in a car accident, it would be in India. The windy road from Mundgod to Goa is a game of chicken filled with big cargo trucks carrying rocks, roaming oxen and dogs, pedestrians and bicyclists. Cars and trucks often drive head-on in each other's lane to pass the car in front of them. We had to swerve many times to avoid being crushed.

For the remainder of my trip in India, I traveled with a Tibetan woman who was born in India. Once we arrived in Delhi, we headed to the guesthouse and spent time stuck in traffic. Drivers create their own lanes, merging and cutting each other off, barely swiping the car, tuk tuk, bicycle, or pedestrian next to them.

The next day we took the metro to the main train station to buy a ticket to Bodh Gaya. The metro is a few years old and is surprisingly clean compared to the littered streets. Passengers are required to go through a metal detector, get a pat down and put their bags through an x-ray machine. The trains have separate sections for men and women but more men are always on the train than there are women, so the men end up spilling over into the women's section. On the train, I couldn't escape the stare of the men or their nose picking.

We took an overnight train into Bodh Gaya and arrived at 4:30am on Sunday, October 23rd. The dim lighting at the station did little to relieve the pitch black darkness of the night. As we approached our stop, the first thing I noticed was the huge swarms of tiny bugs circling under the lights. I covered my mouth and nose with a mask before stepping off the train but I could still smell the stench of urine and trash. The bugs flew into our faces and bodies. Then I saw the crowd of people lying on the ground who blended in with the night. I was taken aback and scared for a bit but then we found our driver.

We rested for a few hours and walked to Mahabodhi temple from our guesthouse. Some kids approached us to ask for money but my friend said "no" to them in Hindi. The main road to the temple is lined with beggars of all ages. I saw a man with deformed hands and legs crawling on his knees, old women with deeply creased wrinkles and dark skin, blind women with grey glazed eyes, kids sleeping on the ground. I later learned that these beggars have to give a portion of their earnings to a "boss" who controls the area who then pays off the police for not making the beggars go away. Tourists shouldn't give money to them because they just proliferate the problem and encourage people to continue begging.

We bought some flowers from the above woman so that we could give it as an "offering" to the Buddha statue inside the temple.

Mahabodhi was built by Emperor Ashoka to commemorate Buddha's enlightenment, which took place under a Bodhi tree next to the temple.

I sat for awhile under the Bodhi tree with my eyes closed. It was hard to believe that Buddha once sat in the same area.

Many monks from different countries make pilgrimages to the temple. Above, Tibetan monks making full body prostrations.

The Great Buddha Statue at Daijokyo Buddhist Temple.

Mahabodhi at night.

Bugs!

The next day we took the train to Varanasi. While I was standing at the Bodh Gaya station with my friend and her male friend, a felt a tug at my shirt and looked down, startled by a boy who was holding out his hand. I tried giving him my water bottle but he didn't want to take it. The friend pushed the boy away so he could leave but he came back and stared at me and eventually left. I didn't see the boy going up to any of the Indians around me.

Mundgod, India: Hanging with Monks at Gaden Ngari Khangsten Monastery

2011-10-28T02:03:00.003-04:00

Sunday, October 16 - Thursday, October 20

I don't mind taking tiring red-eye flights. I love sunrises. By the way, the guy sitting next to me at the internet cafe in Delhi just let out a loud fart.

On Saturday, October 15th, I left Rome in the evening and arrived in Mumbai on Sunday at 8:00am (had a short layover in Cairo). I had another flight to Hubli, a small city in southwest India, at 6:30pm. While I was waiting and watching men resting their shoeless feet on the chairs, a security guard made everyone move to another section because of a suspicious package left in my area.

The squad came out in full gear and with their dogs. They thoroughly checked the packages and determined that they were harmless. I felt a bit safer so I took a nap. After I woke up, I spent the next three hours talking to an Indian man sitting next to me who was also waiting for an evening flight. He works in Abu Dhabi for an offshore drilling company. He works for 48 days and goes home to visit his wife and son for 21 days. We talked about a variety of things, including about life and death. He told me one of the most memorable lines from my trip: "Love isn't about expecting it in return. Love is about giving, and if all you do is give, you won't be sad if you lose that person."

My family has a close relationship with monks at a Tibetan monastery and I've been sponsoring and writing letters to a monk for several years so I came to Mundgod to spend time with them and to meet my pen pal. The monastery is in the middle of a forest that was cleared out for Tibetans who resettled in India following the 1959 Tibetan uprising against China. One of the older monks who is now deceased fled Tibet in 1959 and spent three months traveling on foot from Tibet into India. He didn't have a map or compass and used divination rituals to determine the path. Carrying only enough food to last him one month, he relied on food donated from the villages that he passed through.

The bathrooms are like the ones I used in Vietnam. There are no tubs or shower stalls so the water gets the entire bathroom wet. I used the bucket to hand wash my clothes.

Housing for monks.

Older houses.

The street by my guesthouse and monks' houses.

Cows roam freely and enter the monastery grounds from time to time to search for food. The cows belong to Indian locals who are too poor to feed them so the monks feed the cows everyday. I saw a lot of cows eating trash so I avoided eating meat the rest of my time in India.

The area I stayed in has several monasteries that house a total of 13,000 monks of all ages and Indian background. Younger monks attend school to learn the Tibetan language and grammar, English, math and dharma.

The interior of a prayer hall.

Every prayer hall contains a Buddha statue in the middle of the back wall.

In Tibetan Buddhism, the prayer hall contains a room for the protector of the hall who wards off evil spirits.

The library of the school for younger monks.

Monks take off their flip flops before entering class and other rooms.

They practice writing in Tibetan using wood sticks dipped in ink.

The kitchen has ginormous cooking equipment.

Monks eat this bread everyday.

Shanu, my tour guide.

Mari, the pet dog at Ngari monastery. Many stray dogs walk around India. All of them are sad looking.

Monks debate the dharma at night.

Everyday I sprayed myself with insect repellent. I was tempted to kill the insects in my room but I held back since I was on Buddhist grounds.

Several Tibetan camps housing refugees and Tibetan Indians are near the monastery. I visited a housing area for old people. They spend most of their days sitting around and praying. Above, a woman spins a prayer wheel.

Indians live in the same space as Tibetans.

A seven-year-old monk reciting prayers. Many families send their second born sons into the monastery at a young age so they could learn Tibetan or because they can't afford to raise their sons. This monk wanted to know why my hair is long.

A teacher checking the students' work. Many adult monks are responsible for caring for three to four younger monks. It's basically like being a single father.

I tried asking in Tibetan the names of the children but they just look at me blankly and run away. The only reason they're posing for me is because I bribed them with candy.

After they're done with school, they spend time running around and playing tag. They don't have any toys so I bought them balloons and their faces lit up.

I arm wrestled a 5-year-old. Later that night he was running around and fell and broke his arm.

The monks always eat on the floor.

Kunchuk and Lobsang cooked all of my meals. They didn't want me to eat monastery food and insisted that I eat the food that they cooked.

The kids nicknamed this monk Rambo. He is bigger than most monks.

I spent most of time with Tashi, talking about dharma.

I miss these kids. Some will grow up and stay in the monastery while others will return to become lay people again. I'm not sure if I will ever see them again, but I will never forget their smiles.

Rome, Italy

2011-10-26T02:15:00.006-04:00

Friday, October 14 - Saturday, October 15

I had three reasons to fly to Rome: the flight to Mumbai takes less time from Rome than from Vienna, my two friends were also traveling there, and I wanted to eat good food before having a curry-thon in India.

I met up with my friends at a restaurant by my hostel. It took us awhile to find it because my friend is directionally challenged. Good thing he has great taste buds!

We shared delicious dishes of veal and roasted potatoes,

lamb and tomato sauce,

pesto tripe linguine,

eggplant with ricotta,

anchovies and endives,

and some lemon custard.

The next morning we walked around the city. This time I took the map and guided us.

The Trevi Fountain.

Party in my mouth pistachio gelato from Di San Crispino. I read about it in a NY Times article.

The Pantheon.

I parted ways with my friends at Piazza Navona and walked towards the metro station so I could get ready to fly to Mumbai.

I tried to take the line by the Spanish Steps but it was closed. I waited for the replacement bus but it never came. The cabs refused to take me to my hostel because the street was closed for some event. I speed walked to the next station and it was closed too. Then I started panicking.

I spent an hour trying to navigate the map and streets to get back to my hostel. Crowds of people were marching in protest of something. By the time I got back to pick up my bag, I was a sweaty mess, but at least I made it to the airport on time.

Vienna, Austria

2011-10-26T01:58:00.006-04:00

For those following my blog--did you miss me?! I've been in India the past two weeks and haven't had a chance to update my blog. I have a couple of free days in New Delhi so I'll start posting pictures.

Wednesday, October 12 - Friday, October 14

I left Prague in the early morning by bus and spent the first day in Vienna in the rain. By mid-day my socks were soaked and by the end of the day, my toes were pruney. The buildings looked very similar to the ones in Prague. The men don't sound like Ahhnold Schwarzenegger at all. So disappointing.

The people sharing the hostel room with me were one of the most interesting groups I've come across during this trip. There's the 23-year-old free-spirited Chilean who has been traveling for two years and plays guitar on the street and bars to make money, the 24-year-old Munich guy who can recount every European country's history and Germany's military involvement with that country, the 24-year-old Drew Barrymore look-alike Aussie freelance journalist who is in debt from traveling for the past four months, and a 25-year-old Polish guy who works as a street performer in different cities.

Rathaus, the city hall.

Parliament

The steps at the Albertina Museum.

Mozart's house. I played the piano as a child so I was excited to see one of my favorite classical composer's house.

Hundertwasserhaus, colorful apartment buildings that contrast with the city's baroque architecture.

Shonbrunn Palace

View of Glorietta from the palace's garden.

A sachertorte from Sacher Hotel, the original creator of this type of chocolate cake. It was not a party in my mouth.

St. Stephen's Cathedral, the seat of the Archbishop of Vienna. The Polish guy in the hostel works next to this church. He wears a costume and makes noises at people and makes an average of 30 Euros per hour! I wonder how much I can make...it will be my back-up plan if I can't find a job when I get back.

I think this is a museum.

At night I went with a few people from the hostel to Prater, a small amusement park, to look for the Chilean guy who was planning to play guitar there. We couldn't find him so we headed back to the hostel. While we were on the subway, an undercover police caught the Polish guy for not paying for the subway ticket. The Polish guy didn't have any money or ID on him so the police let him go.

Prague

2011-10-11T14:01:00.000-04:00

I didn´t think any other city could come close to charming me as Paris did. But then I stepped onto the streets of Prague´s Old Town and fell in love.

The city dates back 1,100 years and was the capital of the Holy Roman Empire. Many of the buildings are Baroque style.

I´d like to think this is the Czech version of my name.

Trdelnik, traditional Czech dessert. The pastry part sort of tastes like a harder version of a cinnamon roll.

The astronomical clock was first installed in 1410.

The entrance to the Charles Bridge, constructed in 1357 under King Charles IV who was also the Holy Roman Emperor.

The gothic-style bridge connects Prague Castle and the city´s Old Town over the Vltava River. I woke up early in the morning today to photograph the bridge since it gets crowded during the day and night.

The bridge contains thirty statues, mostly of saints.

Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral are in the background.

View of the Charles Bridge from another bridge.

A memorial to the victims of communism.

Usually a tram is available to take people up a hill to get a view of the city, but it wasn´t in service today. I got to work my buns of steel.

Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral.

I took the following pictures yesterday evening. This picture is of buildings in the square.

Charles Bridge. People making out everywhere. Me missing my bf.

The cathedral was founded in 1344.

Random statues.

Next stop: Vienna.

Berlin: My New Viet Friend, Street Art, Bau Musem

2011-10-09T18:00:00.001-04:00

I was craving Vietnamese food on Saturday night so I went to a small VN restaurant by the hostel. I chatted with the owner about his background and he ended up showing me YouTube videos of his girlfriend singing and a music video of him that he had produced in Vietnam. I ended up staying for over two hours talking about our families, jobs, the sauna he created in his apartment and the differences between America and his country (that seems to be the topic wherever I go). When all the customers were gone, he busted out his guitar and sang me some VN songs about his break-up with his ex-wife and how he met his girlfriend (Facebook had something to do with it but I didn´t hear him bring it up in the song). Before I left he didn´t let me pay for dinner because he felt that he was welcoming me into his restaurant as a new friend. I didn´t exchange info with him but I´m sure I can find him on FB. Meeting people like him is what enriches my travel experience.

The next morning I walked along Rigaer Strasse, a street known for buildings that have turned into squats. Many buildings have stencil and paper art and graffiti on them.

The Hoff!

After I checked out the flea market at Mauerpark.

I watched people selling bicycles and their old clothes.

Then I went to Bau Museum, the equivalent to the Museum of Modern Art in NYC. From far away I thought this sculpture was a Smurf.

This piece of art looked like it was created by a five year old who spread his feces on the wall.

When I got back to the hostel, I hung out with two guys that are always sitting there with their laptops. They have been staying at the hostel for many weeks because they are both trying to move to Berlin. Even though I´m only in this city for a few days, it´s comforting to see familiar faces when I get back from walking around the city. I spent a couple hours talking to one of them about his past, how he got to where he is now and where he wants to go. One of the things that I love about staying in hostels is that I get to meet people whom I normally would never have gotten to meet and spend time getting to know them on a substantive level. I know we will never meet again, but I usually see the world in a different light as a result of having met them.

Berlin: History Lessons, Kebabs and Currywurst

2011-10-08T13:00:00.002-04:00

I´ve been spoiled by the architectural splendor of Paris and the natural beauty of Switzerland that I initially found Berlin to be disappointing in its aesthetic and cultural offerings. But the longer I spent talking to the locals, walking through the residential neighborhoods and learning about its riveting history, I began to appreciate its unique character and respect the city for what it is and trying to become.

Day 1

I arrived on Thursday afternoon and first stopped by the East Side Gallery, a collection of murals designed on one of the few remaining parts of the Berlin Wall.

Before coming to Berlin, I knew very little about the city´s history, but as I visited each memorial and monument, the history puzzle pieces came together.

Following WWII, Germany was divided into four occupation zones: the US, the UK, France and the Soviet Union. Within two years the first three groups disagreed with the Soviet Union on the reconstruction plans so the US, UK and France consolidated their zones into one for reconstruction, while the Soviets controlled East Berlin. Eventually the Soviets constructed the wall in 1961 to prevent people from emigrating.

People living in East Berlin were pretty miserable because many defected and tried to escape into West Berlin.

The wall came down in 1989. The effects of the separation between west and east Germany are still apparent today, with the former being more wealthy than the latter.

View of the Reichstag, parliament of the German Empire.

The Reichstag.

The dome on top of the Reichstag offers 360 views of the city.

The mirrored cone reminded me of the many kebab places in Berlin. The architect probably got his inspiration from them.

The Neue Wache, or the New Guard House, is now the Central Memorial of the Federal Republic of Germany for the Victims of War and Tyranny.

The Supreme Parish and Collegiate Church. Friggin gypsies approached me with their clipboards. I can´t escape them!

Brandenburg Gate, the only remaining gate through which Berlin was once entered.

The first night I hung out with some people at the hostel. I learned some things about Berlin and Germany in general: drinking in public is allowed (I see beer bottle caps on the ground), college is free (just like France and Swizerland), students have extensive Hitler courses every year in school, tv shows and magazines always have topics on Hitler (like about his dogs or secretaries), people still feel very guilty about the Holocaust even though their generation wasn´t responsible for it, people loved America until Bush ruined its rep, people laugh when Republicans accuse Obama of being a socialist because Germans think that America is conservative compared to them, and the Hoff still interests people.

Day 2

In the morning I strolled along a river in the neighborhood of Kreuzberg. A few things I noticed: people let their dogs walk without leashes, some trashcans are separated by plastic/food/trash, and there are a lot of Vietnamese restaurants (and many more kebab and currywurst stands).

I often saw people drinking in the morning by themselves.

I got lunch from a Turkish market which sells fruits, veggies, fabric, dried fruits, bread, cheese and yummy Turkish food. Somone told me that Berlin has the largest Turkish population outside of Turkey. When the country was rebuilding, they lacked a skilled workforce so they welcomed people from other countries to come to temporarily work. Those workers decided to stay.

Gendarmenmarkt, a square.

The Holocaust Memorial. As I walked further in, the blocks became taller and I felt smaller.

A part of the Berlin Wall along the former Nazi Gestapo and SS headquarters.

The Topography of Terror, an outdoor and indoor museum chronicling the rise and fall of the Nazis and the aftermath of the war. The museum is on the site of the former Gestapo and SS headquarters, which is now just a bunch of rocks. I spent a couple hours reading through the history of how the Nazis systematically persecuted and murdered millions of Jewish people and also homosexuals, gypsies, the mentally disabled, political oppenents and anyone else they deemed worthless. I walked away very sad.

Tiergarten, a huge forest-like park. As I was breathing in the fresh cold air, I heard a loud cough to my left. I looked over and saw a man standing off of the path by the trees, pants down, jerking off. I was a bit shocked. None of the bicyclists passing by me seemed to notice him.

As I walked further in the park, no one was around me so I freaked out about runnning into other possible jerking off-ers, rapists or cannibals (because I´m paranoid like that) and quickly found the exit.

In the center of Tiergarten is the Victory Column that commerorates Prussia´s victory over three wars that eventually led to the formation of the German Empire.

Currywurst, sausage in barbeque sauce sprinkled with curry powder.

Day 3

A bit over the city, I took the train to Potsdam, the former residence of Prussian kings and German Kaisers up until 1918. This is Sanssouci Palace, the summer residence of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia. It was built in 1745.

This was the first time I had ever seen a bust of an African person at a palace.

The garden has a pavilion called the Chinese House.

The Orangerie houses plants.

View of Sanssouci Park. Like Berlin, all the tourist sites are far apart.

The New Palace finished construction in 1769.

I have one more day in Berlin and then I´m off to Prague.

Driving Around Lake Geneva and Lunch in Yvoire, France

2011-10-05T13:00:00.000-04:00

My cousin's dad drove us around the entire lake today, starting from Geneva and heading northeast from the city. We passed by towns like Lausanne, Montreux and Vevey (I saw Nestle's headquarter), surrounded by gorgeous scenery--hills with terraced vineyards, mountains with orange/red/green colored trees, and the calm waters of Lake Geneva.

In the morning the sunlight reflects off of the lake like tiny glittering stars.

We drove through Evian-les-Bains, famous for its mineral water. I never knew that Evian was from France.

For lunch we stopped by Yvoire, a medieval town along the lake.

We dined at a restaurant overlooking the harbor.

I have been speaking broken English with my cousins the past few days because they don't understand me when I use full sentences. Tomorrow I leave for Berlin. I'm excited to explore a new city and to meet English speaking people so I don't sound like a fob when I talk. I'm glad I was able to meet my cousins, aunt and uncle and appreciate them welcoming me into their homes. It's nice to know that I have such kind family members in different parts of the world and that one day when we meet again, we will no longer greet each other as strangers but as familiar faces.

Geneva: Botanical Garden, Broken Chair at the United Nations, and Posing with Stuffed Animals at the Museum of Natural History

2011-10-04T14:44:00.003-04:00

I think I miss NYC because today I went to places that are also in NYC: a botanical garden, the United Nations and the Museum of Natural History

Everything pales in comparison to NYC. The Botanical Garden is small and isn't very pretty.

The only thing I liked about the garden was this peacock. Sadly, he didn't want to woo me with his feathers.

I didn't go inside the UN because I arrived during their two hour lunch break. Slackers!

Across from the UN is a wooden sculpture called Broken Chair. The artwork was commissioned by Handicap International to urge all countries to sign the Mine Ban Treaty and to honor their commitment to help mine victims and to clear mined areas.

Then I went to the Museum of Natural History because I needed to use the bathroom. Plus I like to pose with stuffed animals. I've used some public bathrooms and they're actually all clean. I love baby owls! But when they grow up, they get ugly.

Whenever I see a warthog, Pumbaa's voice starts singing in my head, "When I was a young warthog..." Makes me want to watch The Lion King now...

I think sloths are cute.

Happy Feet!

I wish I rode a camel in Morocco.

A bit graphic, but it's The Circle of Life!

Geneva, Switzerland

2011-10-03T17:50:00.001-04:00

When taking public transportation from Annemasse to Geneva, I have to get off the Annemasse bus, walk several seconds across the border to Switzerland, then hop on the Geneva tram. As I was riding the tram this morning, I noticed a woman leave her baby stroller on board and walked off the tram. I only noticed her because she also rode the Annemasse bus with me (and she had a big booty). I was waiting to see if she was going to come back on board or if I just witnessed a mother abandon her baby. Sure enough, the doors closed and the tram took off but no one seemed to notice the baby. I saw the woman chase after the tram and I screamed out, "That's her baby! Tell the driver to stop!" but people just looked at me weirdly. I thought English was an international language! Then I pointed to the stroller and some men got up to tell the driver to stop. The women eventually caught up to the tram and got back her baby.

That was the most exciting part of my day. I think Paris ruined every European city for me because I found Geneva to be eh. The Jet d'eau is supposed to be the city's famous landmark but just look at it--it's just a large fountain. Reminded me of a bursting fire hydrant.

Watch stores are everywhere. I saw a few places that sell Swiss Army knives but was disappointed in the lack of chocolate stores. I didn't see any Lindt, Toblerone or Nestle stores. It's like going to NYC and not seeing pizza places.

I walked along the lake for awhile. The further away I went from the touristy area, the less people were around me.

The Flower Clock is another "famous" tourist attraction.

It seems like every European city has an old town. A street in Geneva's Old Town.

This mosaic depicts Julius Caesar, who came to Geneva in 58 B.C.

St. Pierre Cathedral.

Place du Bourg, a square in Old Town.

Bastions Park has giant chess and checker games.

I used to be the checkers queen in 4th grade.

Reformation Wall honors the Protestant Reformation.

Annemasse and Annecy, France

2011-10-02T15:37:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I left my cousins in Paris and headed to Annemasse, a small town next to Geneva, to meet another cousin. I've never met him or my aunt before. Upon arriving at their house, their dog Lucky ran up to me and tried to bite me when I reached out to pet him. Lucky has really nappy matted leg hair.

We went to my aunt's brother's house for dinner. I have never met my uncle and his family before either. My cousins barely speak English and don't speak Vietnamese (they're all half French) and my aunt and uncle speak French and Viet. Since my Viet isn't the best, I didn't talk much at the table and just looked blankly at everyone speaking in French.

We ate fondue. I love cheese but this was cheese overload.

For dessert my uncle's wife made meringue flambe with vanilla ice cream. She isn't Viet so I won't be getting any home cooked Viet food from her.

That night I went back to my aunt's house and slept in my cousin's room while he slept in his brother's room. The room reeks of dude. I didn't sleep much because every time I woke up, I smelled dude. I definitely miss my family in Paris and their moody cat Fluffy.

Today my uncle drove me to Annecy, a town south of Geneva. The car ride was filled mostly with the quiet sound of Viet music playing on the speakers and my occasional "Ooooh, how pretty!" comments. We drove through green hills spotted with grazing cows and filled with trees that have began to change leaf colors. Made me miss fall in NYC...and reminded me of how I'm not with my bf for my favorite change in seasons. By the way, do you notice the scratch on my camera lens?!!!! It f's up most of my pictures!!!

A thin veil of fog lingered over Annecy Lake that created shades of grey mountains.

The water is so clear that I can see the bottom of the lake in shallow areas.

Annecy Le Vieux, the old town with pedestrian roads.

View of the old town from the museum.

My uncle drove up a windy hill so I could get a view of the city. I was nauseous the entire way.

View of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps. I didn't know that Mont Blanc is a mountain; I thought it was just the name of expensive fountain pens. And if I had that type of pen, I'd put it in a case and never use it because I'd probably lose it.

I had lunch at my uncle's house and then went for a long walk behind his house around the neighborhood. He lives in a hilly area next to many farms.

Moooooooooooo! These curious cows walked up to us.

Then we went back for flan and some other desserts. My uncle's friend and his wife came by to visit. They were visiting from Reunion, a French island east of Madagascar. It was the first time I have heard of this island. I learn something new everyday! He and his wife were wearing matching printed clothes. Reminded me of the kids from The Sound of Music when Julie Andrews' character creates them clothes from the drapes.

Essaouira, Morocco: Listening to the Djembe and Getting Scrubbed Down in a Community Hammam

2011-09-29T10:06:00.001-04:00

After two days of sensory overload in Marrakech, we took a bus to Essaouira to enjoy the breeze and slower paced atmosphere. We were able to walk down the street without aggressive vendors talking to us but some guys still shouted out Japanese phrases. One guy said to us, "You are very interesting. People want to touch you." I wonder if they know what they're saying sometimes.

The buildings are mostly painted in white with blue accent windows and doors.

The view of the ocean from the tower.

Some men wear long robes with pointed hoods that come in different colors. I wonder if the KKK got their inspiration for their clothes from Morocco.

This is what your friends do to you when you get drunk and pass out. I'm not sure what this dog did to deserve this.

As we were standing on the tower overlooking the ocean, a guy (pictured on the left) approached us and invited us to listen to him play music at a bar at night. We talked for a bit about his life in Essaouira and the types of people he meets in the town (he doesn't like the French because they look down on Africans and thinks that the Japanese are the most trustworthy people). We ended up hanging out with him and his friend at his friend's instrument shop and listened to them play the djembe, a drum typically played in West Africa. They struck the djembe with such passion, playing off of each other's rhythm as the deep sound of the beats reverberated off the walls.

Since there wasn't much to see or do in Essaouira, I felt like getting another massage. I asked the drummer if he could recommend a place and he suggested for me to go to a community hammam so I can get the full Moroccan experience. He called a woman who gives grommages (body scrubs) to meet me at the place. She was no taller than 4 ft. 10 and didn't speak English. I went with her into the hammam to the locker room and she gestured for me to take off my clothes. Then she took off her clothes. Hmmm, this is kinda awwwkward...why would she need to get undressed to give me a massage? We walked into the main sauna-like room where everyone was bathing themselves. Women (they were either nude or had on underwear) were sitting on the tile floor with buckets of hot water, scrubbing themselves with mitts to exfoliate their skin, washing their hair and pouring water on themselves. One woman was laying on her stomach getting her back vigorously scrubbed by an older woman. Perhaps she wants to clean me before she massages me? As I was sitting and getting scrubbed by the woman, I couldn't help but look at the full-figured women around me (plus I didn't want to see my scrubber's boobs jiggling in front of me). After she finished cleaning me, I thought I was going into another room to get a massage but she had me get dressed and then waved bye to me. I didn't even bother to try to use sign language to ask for my massage. This was the strangest experience I've ever had.

The next day we went back to Marrakech. The weather was about 90 degrees and the sun is much more intense there so we were in a bad mood and didn't feel like walking around. We sat at a cafe and watched people in the square.

I had some dirhams left so I gave it to the snake charmer so I could photograph him. The cobra was probably drugged up.

Marrakech: Jemaa el Fna, Souks, Koutoubia, Ben Youssef Madrasa, Bahia Palace and Jardin Majorelle

2011-09-29T10:05:00.002-04:00

Marrakech is a short three hour flight away from Paris yet it is a completely different world. Cathie and I went to there on Sunday and stayed by Jemaa el Fna, the main square in the old city. Jemaa el Fna is like a circus--men play instruments and dance, leashed monkeys jump around, hypnotized cobras sway to the vibrations from the sound of the flute, women offer henna tattoos, men shout at you to buy orange juice, old men sell teeth and offer to pull out your tooth with a plier, and motorcycles and cabs kick up dirt and pollute the air with smog spewing out of the exhaust pipes.

The people in Marrakech are a mix of young and old, traditional and modern, friendly and douchebags. Most speak French and greeted us in French or in Japanese because they think all Asian tourists come from Japan.

We stayed in a riad located in an alley by the square. All riads have an indoor courtyard, traditionally where family members gather, and where we had breakfast. When we were searching for our riad on a map, a man volunteered to point us in the right direction. He was eager to take us there so we followed him but kept a safe distance in case he would lead us somewhere sketchy. We made several turns through some alleys and he took us to the wrong address so we turned around to leave. He got angry and said "F*** you!" and wanted a tip. A shop worker nearby told him to calm down and had a kid take us to the riad.

For lunch we went to Mechoui (lamb) Alley.

A whole lamb is slow roasted underground and then served with bread and salt and cumin.

We ate with our hands and used paper as napkins.

One of my favorite parts about the square is the line of orange juice carts. We always came back to Abdul because he didn't shout at us to come to his stand.

The Koutoubia is the largest mosque in Marrakech.

The minaret has a speaker system that reminds people to pray five times a day.

Cats are everywhere in Morocco. They're a lot smaller than the cats in the states, probably because they're starving.

The souks by the square sell traditional Moroccan items like babouches, handmade leather slip-on shoes.

We only saw men work at the stores. If they knew English, they would greet us and tell us to come inside to take a look. At first we replied to everyone because it would be rude to ignore them. Eventually we just ignored them because if we talked to them, they'd continue talking to us and some got offended if we didn't look at their items.

Everyone 30 seconds or so when we walked through the souks and on the street, someone would scream out, "Japan? China? No? What is your origin?" We tried explaining that not all Asians are Japanese or Chinese but it was futile. Some people would bust out Japanese words like arigato, mushi mushi, Kawasaki, and Mitsubishi. They must not get many Asian tourists because we barely saw any around us.

Ben Youssef Madrasa is the largest Islamic school in Morocco.

The walls are designed with engraved stucco, marble and cedar.

The school contains 130 student dorm rooms.

At night the square is filled with food stalls and annoying guys who shove menus in your face.

For dinner we tried snail (doesn't taste as good without butter) and soup.

The next day we went to Bahia Palace which belonged to the Grand Vizier Si Moussa in the 1860s.

The palace has 150 rooms and is adorned with painted and gilded woodwork and ceilings and carved stucco.

Jardin Majorelle was created by Jacques Majorelle and later Yves Saint Laurent acquired the property to preserve it.

The garden is full of cacti.

We had lemon chicken tagine for lunch, followed by a scrub and a massage at a spa. Originally we wanted to go to a hammam, a traditional Moroccan spa where you get scrubbed and bathed by a woman, but we couldn't find this one hammam because some streets don't have signs and locals don't use street names. So we went to a random modern hammam and clothed women scrubbed us, rubbed savon noir (black jelly-like soap) all over our bodies, and washed us off. Cathie and I were shy so we tried to cover our chest the entire time. Two other older women from Holland were in the room with us and they just let it hang loose.

For dinner we went back to the stalls but went straight to the stall we wanted in order to avoid the guys with menus.

We had a sandwich with Laughing Cow cheese, smashed potatoes and egg, olive oil, lemony red onions, chili sauce and cumin salt. A local guy sitting next to us started talking to us. His name was Simo and he was 24 years old. He had nothing else to do so he hung out with us afterwards.

As we ate lamb sausage, he talked to us about his life (he's going to school for hospitality and he wants to go to school in Los Angeles since his school has a campus there) and his view on Americans (he thinks that they're "naughty" because they're free to cheat and sleep around). We asked what gave him that impression of Americans and he said he watches a lot of Dr. Phil. I explained to him that American tv is for entertainment purposes and not an accurate reflection of Americans. I also told him that the Kardashians are stupid and that not all Americans are like them.

Simo (on the far left) walked around the souks with us and helped get us better prices. The men at the stores didn't talk to us at all. Such a big difference when a male is with us. Later we bumped into the food stall guys from the previous night who served us. I told them that the souk vendors didn't bother us and one guy said that it's because men will respect the guy who's with us and not bother us. In other words, men don't respect women, especially female tourists.

I was glad that we met Simo because my experience with the souk vendors and men screaming out Japanese words was ruining my time in Marrakesh.

Day 18 in Paris: Rugby and Getting Ready for Marrakech

2011-09-24T15:50:00.001-04:00

I watched France play New Zealand in the rugby match this morning with my screaming cousins. Whenever I don't have a favorite team, I root for the team that has the better looking players. In this case, it would be NZ, but since I'm staying in a French household, I rooted for France. France ended up losing.

I spent the rest of the day walking around the city and going to La Grande Epicierie, or as my friend calls it, a foodie's wet dream. The store sells gourmet products from all over the world. If I wasn't going to travel to different cities for the next month, I'd buy cookies, jams and other goodies to bring home.

Tomorrow Cathie and I fly out at 7am to Marrakech, which will have temperatures in the high 80s, low 90s. We will come back late Wednesday night, assuming I don't get stoned for showing my shoulders and legs. My armpits like to breathe freely in that sort of heat! But I want to respect their customs so I won't be wearing tank tops or shorts. Stay tuned for pictures when I return.

Day 17 in Paris: Parc de la Villette and Dinner at L'Ardoise

2011-09-23T10:12:00.009-04:00

My sight seeing options have dwindled down so I chose a photo in a guide book that looked interesting to visit: Parc de la Villette.

Unfortunately the only thing worth seeing was the Geode, which reminded me of the Cloud Gate in Chicago.

My trip to the park wasn't a total waste of time. These women doing synchronized disc Tai Chi entertained me...

...as well as this woman striking a pose.

After I strolled along Canal St. Martin and ate my lunch along the water.

Then I walked down Rue Montorgueil, a pedestrian street lined with cafes, pastry shops, fromageries and other specialty food stores.

My cousin was talking about rum cake the other day so I bought baba au rhum from Stohrer, a pastry store that is the original creator of modern baba au rhum. At first I thought rum cake was created by people in the Caribbean, but when I bit into the baba au rhum, the yeasty texture was nothing like the cake-like texture of the Caribbean rum cakes. I definitely prefer the Caribbean rum cakes.

I also got macarons in various flavors. Om nom nom nom!

Cathie and I went to dinner at L'Ardoise, a bistro close to the Jardin des Tuileries. I started with eel (the taste was like eel at Japanese restaurants) with some sort of fish on a bed of mango puree.

Cathie had ravioli with chanterelle in a creamy butter sauce.

For the entree I had cod with a vinegarette sauce with bacon waffles. While I enjoyed my meal, there were too many flavors going on in one plate.

Cathie had lamb.

We both had creme brulee served with strawberry sorbet and strawberries.

Day 16 in Paris: The Medieval Town of Provins

2011-09-22T14:18:00.002-04:00

Provins is a medieval town dating back to the 11th century under the rule of the Earls of Champagne. The town was famous for its trade fairs during the 12th and 13th centuries.

The houses reminded me of Snow White's house.

There's not much to see there. I spent more time on the train going to and from the town than I did walking around it. I was a bit disappointed that the residents don't walk around in Medieval clothes and ride on horses.

Some medieval structures have been restored. This is the Vault of the Holy Spirit from the 12th century. It served as a hospital to accommodate pilgrims, the poor, the elderly and children.

The fortified wall protected the residents and tradespeople.

View from the top of the curtain wall.

The Jouy Gate opens onto the road leading to the Cistercian abbey of Jouy. Merchants took this road to the fairs back in the day.

The road from the gate leads to an open field.

The Tithe barn was rented out to merchants visiting the regional fairs.

Caesar's Tower served as a watchtower and later as a prison.

I've been practicing my quiet ninja steps and got a better shot of a butterfly.

This is the train I took to and from the town. It's one of the more nicer suburban trains. I always fall asleep during train rides that are longer than an hour and startle myself awake when my head falls over.

Day 15 in Paris: The Garden of Chateau de Fontainebleau

2011-09-21T14:22:00.002-04:00

Still taking a break from the city, I continued my garden exploration today at the Chateau de Fontainebleau. The palace was inhabited by kings and royalty continuously from the 12th century to the fall of Napoleon III in 1870. The Fontainebleau courtyard is also where Napoleon I bid farewell to his Old Guard and then went into exile following his loss to the Coalition.

I waited forever to get a shot of this staircase without people in the photo. I'm anal like that!

This annoying couple monopolized the area doing all the typical Asian wedding photo poses, like the man was holding out the bottom of the woman's dress, they fake ran towards each other, the woman played coy while the man gazed at her, and the man was fake playing the violin to her.

The view from the top of the stairs.

The doors at the top of the stairs.

The palace has two gardens and a park. This is the Jardin Anglais. I went solo today so Cathie wasn't there to take a picture of me posing with this guy.

I sat down here to have my lunch with the ducks. No one else was around me...

Until the couple came. I didn't want to be around them so I got up to walk to the other park.

I was a bit confused by this sculpture. Perhaps one of the kings received it as a gift from China?

Porte Doree, the entrance to the Cour Ovale building.

Faded paintings on the ceiling of the Cour Ovale building.

The Grand Parterre Parc.

I spotted colorful butterflies and watched them jump from flower to flower to feed on nectar.

Butterfly watching is a sign of getting old.

While I was sitting on a bench breathing in the fresh forest air, the couple popped up again, this time with a change in outfits.

As I left the palace, a peacock crossed my path. I've never noticed how funny they look when they walk.

My afternoon snack. Om nom nom nom!

Day 14 in Paris: The Garden of Chateau de Versailles

2011-09-20T13:14:00.000-04:00

King Louis XIV had a lot of money to burn. He created the most opulent palace and stunning garden and moved the government from Paris to Versailles so he could control the nobility under his rule of absolute monarchy.

King Louis XIV expanded the palace upon what used to be the hunting lodge of King Louis XIII.

Covering 2,000 acres, the garden was designed by landscape architect Andre Le Notre in 1661 and took three decades to complete.

Looking up towards the palace at the Latona Fountain, which depicts the mother of Diana and Apollo protecting them peasants whom she turned into frogs.

The Orangerie contains orange, lemon and pomegranate trees.

The Royal Walk is a main path that splits the right and left sides of the garden, lined with marble statues and perfectly trimmed trees.

Separated by paths and towering walls of trees, the groves in the garden each have their own name and unique design. I felt like an ant lost in a maze, popping in and out of hedge openings to discover fountains and statues.

The Ballroom, a grove with a semi-circular cascade decorated with millstones and shells brought back from the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea by the French royal navy.

The cascade and the fountains weren't flowing today.

The Encelade Grove is a representation of Enceladus, the chief of Titans who was punished for his pride by the Gods from Mount Olympus.

The Colonnade Grove has 32 columns and 28 fountains.

The Grove of Apollo's Bath. In the center, Apollo is hanging out with his nymphs while his chariot horses wait on the side.

The Grove of the Arc de Triumph.

The Dragon Fountain depicts Apollo killing a python with his arrow. The snake is surrounded by dolphins and Cupids with bows and arrows riding on swans. I think the Greeks were high when they created these myths.

The Grove of the Three Fountains.

The view from the bottom level.

The garden is so huge that I was often alone in the groves and pathways and felt like I had this secret garden all to myself. I often thought about my grandma, who was fascinated with Versailles and wanted to see the movie Marie Antoinette despite not being able to speak English. I wish she was with me.

Day 13 in Paris: Claude Monet's House in Giverny

2011-09-19T14:57:00.001-04:00

In Buddhism the lotus flower symbolizes the potential growth of the mind. Like the lotus that grows from the mud and then lies pristinely above the water, the mind could also arise from selfishness, materialism and anger and work towards empathy, selflessness and kindness.
Similar to the lotus is the water lily, which happens to be the subject of one of my favorite painting collections by Monet. Cathie and I went to his house in Giverny to see firsthand the inspiration for his famous paintings.

Before we went in Monet's house, we stopped by a neighboring bed and breakfast to say hi to an alpaca (or baby llama?)

The alpaca is friends with an ostrich and potbellied pig!

Monet's garden was bursting with pink, yellow, red and purple colored flowers.

Monet's pink and green house.

Monet probably painted from one of the two Japanese bridges. The walls in his house are covered with Japanese block prints. He probably had an Asian fetish.

We were one of the few young people at the house.

The view from the second floor of the house.

My parents would have loved this garden. I'm sure my dad would have picked the flowers and put them in his pocket so he could replant them at home. (He's a bit ghetto like that.)

I could see why Monet created his most brilliant yet simple masterpieces in this garden. The place is so peaceful.

Day 12 in Paris: Paris at Night

2011-09-18T14:27:00.000-04:00

Sundays are my lazy days when I eat and hang out with the family. I bought baguette in the morning and chose this twisted, crispy raspberry pastry for breakfast.

Before lunch we snacked on foie gras. I know it's cruel to force feed a duck, but fatty liver is delicious!

My aunt made lamb for dinner. She admitted that she's trying to get me fat.

At night my uncle drove me to see the monuments. The city looks completely different at night with the lights illuminating the structures. Here's the Sacre Coeur.

The Eiffel Tower from the street level.

Every hour the tower lights up like a thousand camera flashes going off. I think the tower looks prettier at night.

On the way down from the Trocadero, I took pictures for two couples. The tower at night is definitely on my list of top places to make out.

Day 11 in Paris: Marche aux Puces de Saint-Ouen and Musee National Rodin

2011-09-17T13:38:00.003-04:00

I joined Cathie at Marche aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, a flea market with more than 1,500 second-hand and antique dealers who sell furniture, glassware, silverware, clothes and other knick knacks.

I'm not a fan of old, used things or antique decor but enjoyed looking at the items and the rooms set up by the dealers. Like what kind of person would buy this creepy tan doll?

Unfortunately not for sale.

After we went to the Musee National Rodin to check out The Thinker sculpture. And of course I did my thinker pose with it.

I should try getting lost in my thoughts in the nude sometimes.

The artist Auguste Rodin lived at the Hotel Biron which is now the museum.

The garden is filled with his bronze and terracotta sculptures. After seeing so many artworks of nude bodies, I find the human body more beautiful than ever.

Except for this guy's crack. Life imitating art!

The dudes from The Gates of Hell sculpture.

Day 10 in Paris: Playing Tour Guide, Dining at Chartier

2011-09-16T10:29:00.002-04:00

I met up with my friend and her bf, who are both in Paris for a few days. Since I'm familiar with the touristy areas, I became their tour guide and photographer. She's into making weird poses at monuments and with statues so we did some Quasimodo shots at the Notre Dame and "picked up" the Lourve pyramid by its pinnacle. Then I took some pictures of her and her bf holding hands at the Pont Alexandre III and the Eiffel. My photographs are totally worthy of a place on her future save-the-date invitation cards.

Later I took my cousins to dinner at Chartier, a lively traditional French restaurant that's over 100 years old. Waiters wear black vests and white aprons and scrawl your order on the paper place mat. The food is reasonably priced but doesn't taste that great. Despite having my French speaking cousins at the table ordering for us, our server had no patience for any questions and never came to check on us. I'm going to a bistro next time.

Day 9 in Paris: Marche Richard-Lenoir, Glacier Berthillon, and Searching for the Steps from the Movie "Midnight in Paris"

2011-09-15T15:02:00.000-04:00

Parisians love their open air markets. Marche Richard-Lenoir is the city's largest street market, open on Thursday and Sunday mornings. The market offers items like socks, scarves and jewelry, but the real attraction is the fresh produce, meats and cheeses.

My friend Cathie and I wanted to have a picnic so we shopped at different vendors for bread, pate, prosciutto, olives and cheese. We wanted to try all the olives but limited ourselves to four different samples until we found one we liked (it was an Italian olive).

Looking for a shaded, quiet area to have our lunch, we walked to Promenade Plantee, an elevated park that used to be a railroad track for freight trains. The promenade was built in the early 90s so it seems that the High Line is not the OG of elevated parks, although the High Line has a better design.

After we went to the Ile St.-Louis, the island next to the Notre Dame, for ice cream at Berthillon. Little did we know that there were about five or so other Berthillons on the same street and street around the corner. Instead of going to the original shop with the long line of people, we went to a small take-out counter. Nevertheless, the ice cream was delicious and creamy!

My pistachio ice cream. No wonder the French are thin despite eating foods rich in dairy. The serving size is as tiny as a golf ball.

We savored our ice cream next to the Seine.

Not too far from us was the location of the "Midnight in Paris" movie* scene where Owen Wilson's character waits on the steps for the car to pick him up. It was quite anti-climatic.

Cathie and I concluded our hangout session at a corner cafe, people watching and inhaling smoke from the nearby tables. Throughout the day we talked about our experiences of the city, (especially the annoying gypsies), the similarities and differences between NYC and Paris, and relationships. Leisurely strolling around the city and hanging out at cafes are much more enjoyable in the company of good people. I can only do so much Agnes time.

*Noah, don't hate ;)

Day 8 in Paris: Marly le Roi and Chateau de Monte-Cristo

2011-09-14T15:17:00.000-04:00

When King Louis XIV wanted a break from Versailles, he created a leisure residence at Marly in the late 1600s. The royal residence became known as Marly le Roi. I needed a break from the city so I went there.

I walked through a canopy of trees...

and emerged upon a pond with ducks and swans, surrounded by cone-shaped cypresses.

For awhile I had the park to myself and sat down on the hill overlooking the expansive grounds. The sun warmed my back while the gentle breeze whispered over the long strands of grass and birds chirped in the trees. I ignored the distant hum of cars and imagined what the place used to look like in the 1600s.

I stood where the king's residence once stood. North of the former pavilion is a hill that used to have a cascade flowing down.

This is the view from top of the hill looking south. The pond with the cypress trees is south of the former pavilion. I passed by a deer on the way up the hill.

The view from the south of the grounds.

After I walked to the town center. The colorful shops and restaurants are located on a short street called Grande Rue.

I thought this place was cute and it has a garden so I went in for coffee and dessert.

Espresso, cheesecake (had the texture of mousse), a piece of chocolate and gross strawberry marshmallow.

Then I walked to Chateau de Monte-Cristo. No, it's not a house dedicated to the fried ham and cheese sandwich. It was the country-house of Alexandre Dumas (who was a fatty who probably ate deep fried sandwiches), the writer of the The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers.

The house exhibits paintings and reproductions reflecting the writer's life. I was alone upstairs and the house was eerily quiet. I freaked myself out and bolted out the door towards the exit.

Across the house is Chateau D'if, where Dumas worked on his writings.

I looked inside Chateau D'if and started imagining ghosts (because that's what I think of when I'm in old houses belonging to dead people) and freaked myself out again.

I spent the next hour walking in the wrong direction because I either misunderstood the map from the tourism office or the map was incorrectly labeled. I came across an English-speaking woman (not too many people spoke English in that town) and she said that I was in Le Pecq, another town that wasn't even on my map. She pointed me towards a bus that took me back to the train station, 12 bus stops away.

Day 7 in Paris: Parc Andre Citroen, Getting Lost in the 16th and Musee d'Orsay

2011-09-13T14:09:00.001-04:00

This morning I walked around Parc Andre Citroen, a park on a site of a former Citroen automobile manufacturing plant, and also the same type of car that my bf drove (and hated) while we were in Nice.

Greenhouses.

I walked northeast to the Trocadero for a different view of the Eiffel. While I was trying to take one of my skillfully required yet lonesome looking self-portraits, a Chinese lady walked up next to me to pose and said, "Excuse me," and made a hand gesture shooing me away so I could get out of her shot. I moved away without saying anything but later thought, "Oh no she did-int!" head swerve, finger snap, head swerve, finger snap! It's a good thing that my brain processes anger very slowly.

My sweetie bf made me a binder full of recommended places to see and eat in all the cities I plan to visit and included a list of best boulangeries in Paris. After the Trocadero I wanted to look for Boulangerie Bechu, which was listed by Travel+Leisure as the best place for pain au chocolat. All I had to do was walk north through the 16th arrondisement.

The 16th is known for its ornate 19th century apartment buildings and wealthy residents. (The song You Fancy starts playing in my head.) So I was walking north when I come to this annoying circle that splits in 9 different streets. I walked around the circle to try to continue on the same street that I previously was on but I couldn't find the same street name. So I just chose a street and hoped that it would take me to my destination. (My map only had the names of major streets.)

I chose the wrong street. Instead of going north, I walked to the far west.

But I finally found Boulangerie Bechu, and the chocolate pistachio croissant was worth getting lost! The pain au chocolat was okay. I still think Patisserie Claude in West Village makes the best.

Satisfied from the croissants, I went to Musee d'Orsay, a museum displaying collections of art from the mid 1800s to the early 1900s and which is in the former Orsay railroad station. (No photos are allowed inside.) The hall of the station is completely open and exhibits sculptures in the center of the room and on the perimeter of the hall are the paintings and other pieces of work. The second floor has terraces all around for a great view of the hall.

I saw impressive works of art by Monet, Cezanne, van Gogh and Gauguin. Besides the self-portrait of van Gogh, the most memorable piece was of a woman's vajayjay. The woman clearly has never had a trim in her life. The painting, titled The Origin of the World, was by an artist that I haven't heard of before--Gustave Courbet. He led the Realist movement in 19th century French painting. The painting was quite realistic.

I'm not sick of looking at the Seine yet.

Day 6 in Paris: Bercy Village, St. Sulpice, St. Germain des Pres

2011-09-12T13:26:00.001-04:00

I should start researching places before I go visit them. Case in point: Bercy Village. It's a shopping area with rows of 19th century wine warehouses restored as shops and restaurants. I'm not sure which travel site I got the recommendation from, but Bercy Village was a waste of time. The only interesting store was the pet store that sold ferrets.

I walked through Bercy Park which has some interesting looking statues representing people from different countries.

Hotel de Ville, the city of Paris' administration building since 1357.

Almond croissant from Gosselin.

St. Sulpice, a 17th century Roman Catholic church. The church was featured in The Da Vinci Code.

When you walk in the church, to the right of the entrance are paintings by Eugene Delacroix. On one wall is Jacob's fight with the angel.

Across is Heliodorus driven out of the temple.

On the ceiling between those two paintings is Saint Michael slaying the dragon. I have no clue who these people are; I just copy the text on the signs.

Looking towards the exit of the church with the Great Organ, built in 1862.

Petite madeleines in pistachio, chocolate and regular flavors from Eric Kayser.

Creperie Saint Andres des Artes.

I ate a ham and cheese crepe for lunch but discovered that I'm not a fan of the savory crepes.

The restaurant had charming decor except for the wall that had random posters. There was a lot of booby action going on.

St. Germain des Pres, the oldest church in Paris that was built in 542 by King Childebert to house holy relics. It has been rebuilt many times.

I'm so over churches.

Remembering 9/11

2011-09-11T17:41:00.001-04:00

The news channels were covering 9/11 all day. I didn't need to understand French to know what the reporters were saying. The images spoke for themselves. I asked my 17-year-old cousin on her and other French people's view of 9/11 and she said that everyone thought it was a tragedy. Then I asked her what most people thought of the US and she said that the French don't like Americans, but then clarified that they don't like American policies. I didn't watch tv for very long because the images made me too sad. And what also made me sad was that 10 years later, there's still no end in sight on the war in Afghanistan, Iraq is still unstable, Pakistan has become a breeding ground for terrorists, and countless number of innocent people continued to be killed as a result of this conflict.

I spent the rest of the rainy day hanging out with my three cousins. Two of them, ages 19 and 17, live away for college so I only get to see them on the weekends. The youngest is 13 and has been practicing karate for 6 years. I went to watch him in a karate demonstration at the town's annual sporting fair. The little guy is quite impressive.

Day 4 in Paris: The Eiffel Tower Area

2011-09-10T16:41:00.005-04:00

When it comes to taking good pictures, it's all about the lighting. The past two days were cloudy so I held off on visiting and photographing the Eiffel Tower. Today was the perfect sunny day to capture the tower against the blue sky backdrop.

During my previous trip to Paris, I only saw the tower from afar because my friends and I were too tired from the blistering heat to walk to see it up close.

This morning I stood beneath the enormous iconic structure and stared up at its iron frame. The experience of seeing the Eiffel Tower up close was almost surreal. I felt what I imagine non-Americans must feel when they see the Statue of Liberty for the first time.

Of course while I was admiring the tower some gypsies came over with a clipboard and one was dressed head to toe in a gorilla costume trying to get into people's pictures so she could ask for money.

To the east of the Eiffel Tower is L'Hotel national des Invalides. I didn't know the history of the building since I never do research on a site before I see it. (I rely on signs at the sites and hope that they're in English.) Since I didn't see any signs in English at the entrance, I guessed the translation of the building name: the national hotel of invalids? At first I was thinking of the definition that referred to something that is no longer valid, like an expired ticket, but then that didn't make any sense.

Then I remembered the definition that referred to people who are sick and helpless, and thought that it's a bit discriminatory to have separate hotels for helpless sick people. Luckily a sign in English explained that in the late 1600s Louis XIV constructed the building to house servicemen who were crippled, elderly or frail. The building also currently holds the tomb of Napoleon I and is a hospital and retirement home for war vets.

I walked across the Pont Alexandre III, a bridge connecting the Invalides and the Champs Elysees areas.

It's the most beautiful bridge I've ever seen, adorned with Art Nouveau lamps, cherubs, winged horses and naked women (or as Wikipedia says, nymphs).

People "leaning" against the tower.

The walk from Pont Alexandre III towards the Eiffel.

I stopped in the Museum of Modern Art to use the bathroom.

The Electric Fairy.

Matisse's La Danse Inachevee. It just looks like people making awkward stretching poses.

Another one of Matisse's work.

The Arc de Triomphe and Champs Elysees. The arc honors those who fought in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars.

The Luxor Obelisk, which was originally located at the entrance of the Luxor Temple in Egypt.

I ended at the Jardin des Tuileries.

For dinner my aunt baked escargot (awkward snail!) in a butter and parsley sauce (got the box from the frozen aisle) and it was finger licking good. Then I had some Vietnamese food, which I prefer to eat over French food since I never have home cooked Vietnamese food in NY. My aunt doesn't cook French food because she says the sauces and stews require too much time to make.

Day 3 in Paris: Montmartre, the Sacre Coeur and Annoying Gypsies

2011-09-09T13:45:00.008-04:00

This morning I watched on tv some good looking, muscular men in short shorts pummel each other. New Zealand was playing Tonga in the Rugby World Cup. I've never watched a game besides the one in the movie Invictus. Each team performed the haka dance, a traditional Maori war dance, screaming out their team's anthem and making scary faces. I found the game to be similar to football, where big men run up and down the field with a ball to attempt to reach the "touchdown" line and where players throw themselves on the guy with the ball. But rugby is a much tougher, rougher, quicker, touchier sport. The men don't wear any protective gear and are constantly being slammed and pushed in different directions by other players. They look like they're playing hot potato and doggy pile.

Later in the day I strolled around the hilly neighborhood of Montmartre to check out the Sacre Couer, a white dome-shaped basilica dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I passed by La Cure Gourmande, store selling French sweets and biscuits with multiple locations in Paris. I tried a sample of the strawberry jam-filled biscuit and it was buttery, soft and melted in my mouth but when I bought the one that's sold individually as pictured above, it wasn't soft at all. Wasted calories!

The Sacre Coeur sits on a hilltop so you have to take many stairs to reach the church. Good thing my daily walk up to my fourth floor apartment already strengthened my buns.

Stairs...

More stairs...

Photography isn't allowed in the church. The interior has a huge image of J.C. in the center of the concave dome.

While I was enjoying my lunch on a bench at the lower level of the Sacre Coeur, some gypsy girls were collecting coins in the fountain. These were the same girls who were pretending to be deaf, asking people to sign their clipboard so they can ask for money. I tried avoiding eye contact with the clipboard holders but they always do the two step with me and block my way. The other day my friends and I were sitting at a cafe and some gypsy girls took a leftover water bottle and drank from it. I think it's safe for me to start stereotyping now. And before the gypsy girls approached me, an African man tried to tie a bracelet on me and when I tried to walk around him, he tried stopping me by putting his hand on my arm. My inner bitch came out! Some local person told me that the men will tell you the bracelet is free but once they tie it on you, they'd ask for money.

After the Sacre Couer I walked around the residential neighborhood.

The residential part of Montmartre is quiet. I prefer neighborhoods where locals hang out rather than touristy, livelier areas...too bad I'm a tourist.

The modern apartments are next to cute townhouses with colored window shutters and ivy growing on the walls.

I like looking at the cute houses over the modern apartment buildings but would prefer to live in the latter.

The leaves are changing colors, a sign that fall is near. Sigh...

The Moulin de la Galette, a windmill from the 17th century. I'm lazy to write about its history so Google it.

The Moulin Rouge, a famous cabaret venue and the inspiration for that horrible musical that I stopped watching after the first 5 minutes.

On the same block as the Moulin Rouge are sex toy shops, strip clubs, live sex shows and a sex museum, which exhibits the above chair.

Behind the Abbesses train stop is the Le Mur des Je T'aime (I Love You: The Wall) where "I love you" is written in different languages. Above the mural is a drawing of a woman and a quote reading, "Love is disorder. That's love!" I don't think that was part of the original mural.

I found "I love you" in Vietnamese!

I took the train back home around 5:30pm, thinking I'd avoid some rush hour traffic but it seems that a lot of the French get off of work around 5pm. Those slackers! There's no air conditioning on the train so it was like driving in a hot car with only one window cracked open. Everyone is either looking out the window or has their eyes closed but one guy caught me taking a picture.

When I got home, my aunt took me to the supermarket so I could get food to make nachos for my cousins, who love American food. The supermarket offers hand-held scanners for shoppers to scan their items to save time at the cash register. The long aisles are filled with an overwhelming selection of different types of yogurt, custards, ham, pate, cheese, biscuits and chocolates. Yet when I looked for tortilla chips, they only had one brand of a tiny bag and one big bag of chili flavored tortilla chips. And there were no black beans or taco seasoning either. So I settled for the chili flavored chips, kidney beans and chili seasoning. Mexicans need to emigrate to France so the country can get some Mexican food.

Day 2 in Paris: Lourve, NY Friends and Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise

2011-09-08T15:18:00.008-04:00

Everyone morning my aunt buys fresh baguette from the neighborhood boulangerie and insists that I make myself a ham and pate sandwich for breakfast. Today she bought a chocolate croissant and regular croissant for me for breakfast. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to gain 10 pounds from all these carbs.

As usual, I took the train into the city but today I transfered to a different line to get to the Lourve. This train was newer than the double decker train I take from the house, with lights indicating each train stop. I found it interesting that unlike NYC trains, the cabins aren't separated by doors so you can see straight down the train.

I already went into the Lourve during my previous trip so I didn't go in today.

Instead I marveled at the detailed sculptures and carvings on the building, which is a piece of art in itself.

Underneath an arch.

Then I met up with a few NYC friends, one of which is renting an apartment in the city for this month. This is the entrance to the Jardin des Tulieries, the largest (and my favorite) park in Paris. If you look straight down the park from the pyramid of the Lourve, the Obelisk and Arc de Triomphe are perfectly aligned in a straight line. I'll have to come back to take pictures since today was rainy.

A view of the Seine.

A typical facade of a Paris apartment building.

Every corner has a cafe with seats facing the street, perfect for people watching.

We all had French onion soup for lunch. It was too salty though.

After we went to the Cimetire du Pere Lachaise, the largest cemetary in the city with graves that date back more than 200 years ago.

Many famous French and non-French people are buried there, but I was only familiar with Chopin and Jim Morrison.

On another note, I miss my boyfriend!

Paris? Oui Oui!

2011-09-07T15:21:00.008-04:00

One of the few benefits of war and colonization is that I have family in France, which means that I'll always have a place to stay if I visit. In 2005 I went to Paris for the first time and stayed for several days as part of a month-long backpacking trip through some European countries. Since then I've thought about coming back but for a longer period of time. So here I am in Paris! For the next month, I plan on stuffing myself with pastries, growing out my armpit hair and learning some French phrases. I'll try to update my blog frequently, although I may not write much because the letters and symbols on the keyboard here are not in the same places as the keyboards in the US (for example, the 'q' is where the 'a' is supposed to be).

The Notre Dame. I looked for Quasimodo but didn't find him.

This is the new confession booth. I guess its better for people who are claustrophobic?

The old confession booth on display.

I stopped in the Musee Carnavalet to use the bathroom but saw some interesting art on France's history. Le Chat Noir.

"I'm so hot. Let's let our boobs hang out to cool down."

Hung out at Place de Vosges in Marais. The birds in the park are more ferocious than NY birds. They dive for bread crumbs.

I felt like I was in the movie Amelie with the accordion music playing in the background. My cousin plays the accordion so I tried to play some notes but it's really hard moving the fan part in and out while pushing down the keys with different fingers. It's like trying to pat your head and rub your belly at the same time--almost impossible!

The Jardin des Plantes at the Museum of Natural History has some pretty flowers.

These looked like giant dandelions. I tried blowing on them but the leaves didn't fly into the air.

Right next to the garden is the Menagerie aka zoo. A wallaby, which is a really cute giant rat.

The Pantheon, created to honor the saint of Paris, Genevieve.

The Jardin du Luxembourg, the second largest park in Paris. Many of the parks have spacious, well-manicured gardens where people come to eat, relax and nap. I would have taken a nap if it weren't for the old man staring at me.

This woman reminded me of the pigeon man at Washington Square Park. They should start a club for people who let pigeons poop on their heads.

The Love Padlocks bridge by the Notre Dame holds locks that symbolize couple's everlasting love for one another (or someone's obsession for another).

The C train that I take home to the suburbs. It's a double decker train with close face-to-face seating. There are no ads on the walls so I end up making a lot of awkward eye contact with people.

The French Riviera: Nice, Cannes and Monaco

2011-08-13T20:50:00.000-04:00

One of the great things about living in NYC is that you can step on a plane, go to sleep and then wake up in Europe. Last week I was treated to a trip to the south of France, which included Nice, Cannes and Monaco and a couple medieval towns. We had the perfect balance of vibrant, chic coastal cities and charming, serene hilltop towns.

The house we stayed in, located in Le Tignet which is north of Cannes.

Breathtaking views of the Mediterranean ocean and verdant countryside (the picture doesn't really do it justice).

The grocery store offered all different types of cured meats.

Look at how many different types of pate they have!

The sausages smelled like nasty dirty socks but they were so tasty.

Eze.

The Exotic Garden in Eze which is full of cacti.

Monaco.

Cannes. We took a boat to Sainte Marguerite Island to eat at La Guerite.

St. Paul de Vence.

Men playing bocce, which is basically a game of throwing around a metal ball to hit another metal ball.

We also stayed one night in Nice at the Palais de la Mediterranee.

Macarons from the hotel.

View of the ocean from our room.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt..."

Outdoor dining in Nice.

Saying Goodbye to Grandma

2011-06-19T12:22:00.004-04:00

All of Grandma's children and grandchildren were gathered around her hospital bed. Some held onto each other while others stood alone. Two Tibetan monks stood by the head of the bed and chanted in their low, reverberating tones. As the nurse took off Grandma's oxygen mask, silence swept the room, and the only thing we could hear was the gargling sound from her throat that she made when she inhaled and exhaled through her mouth. We watched her chest move heavily up and down, each breath slower and slower, each breath closer to her last. At 5:17pm on Friday, June 17th, Grandma took her last breath.

As I looked around the room of red eyes and teary faces, I thought about everyone's immense sadness, my dad and his sibling's pain of losing their last living parent and my sisters and cousins losing their last living grandparent. In one quick moment, our gigantic family felt instantly small without Grandma around.

But then I realized that like Grandpa, Grandma will never really be gone because her spirit will remain alive in the family she left behind. We will forever have the special bond of sharing the same grandparents and we will keep Grandma's memory alive through our love for one another, appreciation for family and good food, and the lighthearted humor that frequently pervades our interactions with each other.

Ba Noi, you filled our lives with so much love and meaning. We miss you and love you.

If the Central Park Zoo Animals Could Talk...

2011-04-18T21:15:00.005-04:00

Penguin 1: I love to play hide and go seek! 3...2...1...ready or not, here I come!

Penguin 2: Oh shizz, I can't get down from this rock to hide!

My mom sent me to the corner because I ate her fish.

So this is how Asian people see the world.

I want to pee in the water but these people are making me self-conscious.

I need to get off this island and get me some chicken and rice from the guys in the yellow shirt.

She loves me, she loves me not...

A Pre-Proposal on the Empire State Building

2011-04-18T20:56:00.004-04:00

My friend's boyfriend asked if I could help him get his girlfriend to the top of the Empire State Building so he can surprise her with a proposal.

He thought it was going to be easy for me to convince her so I accepted the mission.

But it wasn't really easy. She resisted at first and I had to get her friends to play along and persuade her to go.

Once we got to the top, I stalled and took a bunch of pictures while I was waiting for her boyfriend to appear. She looked annoyed at me (she was late for her dinner reservation).

He finally appeared and I started to take pictures of them, expecting that she was going to like the surprise.

But things never go as planned. Turned out that she's not a fan of surprises in public spaces so he ended up proposing (successfully) in a more private place after we left the Empire State Building. I may not have witnessed a complete down-on-one-knee proposal that night but at least I got an awesome view of the city.

Stuffing My Face in New Orleans for a Weekend

2011-04-12T20:37:00.017-04:00

I went to New Orleans this past weekend with one goal in mind: to get my fatty on.

My cousin was slated to present at an educational research conference aka why-do-all-educators-look-so-frumpy so I figured it was the perfect chance for me to spend time with her (and crash at her hotel) and see NOLA. Our hotel was a few blocks from Cochon Butcher so we headed there first.

We got the pork belly sandwich and smothered it in the restaurant's sweet potato hot sauce. I also learned that "cochon" means "pig" in French.

Then we walked to the French Quarter to Johnny's Po-Boys...

...and got a po boy. It looks pretty dry and bland in this picture but the combination of the light and airy french bread, the freshly fried crunchy shrimp and slight tang of the mayo was just right.

My cousin had her presentation in the early evening so I wandered around the French Quarter and listened to live music (the French Quarter Festival was going on that weekend). Jackson Square has artists and vendors lined up along the fence selling their artwork.

I stopped in one of the many praline stores to see what was so great about sugar syrup and pecans. It's not that great at all.

The streets are packed with pedestrians and entertainers...it was sort of like New York, but only friendlier.

I walked a bit north of the touristy area to check out the more quiet residential area. I love the colorful wooden doors and shutters.

I guess the owner of this house is a frequent flasher?

For dinner we went to the restaurant next to Cochon Butcher, Cochon.

We shared small plates of wood-fire oysters, deviled crabs with butter crackers, pork cheek salad, broccoli rice casserole and crawfish pie (not pictured). I had twin foodbabies shortly thereafter.

After dinner we went back to the French Quarter to meet another cousin who lives in Louisiana who drove down with his friends. Jackson Square had a lot of crazy looking fortune tellers who congregate there at night. They may look like they have psychic powers but I think they're just drunk or on drugs.

Bourbon Street is pretty much synonymous with alcohol...and boobs. The street is lined with bars and strip clubs with semi-nude women standing at the doorway trying to lure men in. It was interesting to watch the people stand on the balcony, waiting for a group of females to walk by so they can bead them. I saw a lot of vomit, people walking in horse poo (police patrol the area with horses) and sloppy boobs that night. I made a note to myself that I shouldn't be sober next time to enjoy the scene.

On Saturday morning we went to Cafe DuMonde for beignets, which is a fancy name for fried dough dusted in powdered sugar. The place is open 24 hours and always has a wait. We opted for takeout.

I'm drooling thinking about the beignets. They were gooooood. Not so good if you wait too long to eat them.

The man who put a smile on my face.

Right after the beignets, we went to Central Grocery Co. for a muffaletta.

A muffaletta sandwich is kind of like an Italian sub but uses a round loaf and has olive salad in it. So simple yet so delicious.

We spent the rest of the day listening to jazz and bands play 50s and 60s cover songs.

Then we took the trolley to the Garden District to check out the old mansions. The trolley was so packed that I was pressed up against the door in between an overweight sweaty man and the the driver.

The Lafayette Cemetery is across the street from the Commander's Palace restaurant.

We were going to take the trolley back to the hotel but a car decided to make an illegal left turn. We took the bus back instead.

For dinner we went to Coop's Place. Our server reminded me of ZZ Top. My taste buds were satisfied from the jambalaya.

We went back to Bourbon Street to dance away our calories. The Cat's Meow had a combination of karaoke singers and songs played by the deejay. I've never danced to a 60-year old singing karaoke in a semi-club-semi-bar before.

New Orleans is rich in its culture and musical traditions and its people are hospitable and go out of their way to help strangers. After two days in New Orleans, I accomplished my goals of feeding my monster (although there were some foods I didn't get to try) but I also left with a warm feeling (and hangover), having come across genuinely friendly people who welcome everyone to their city.

Downsides of NY Apartment Living: Cockroaches, Mice, Loud Neighbors

2011-02-07T20:38:00.007-05:00

I haven't had much to write about lately. The depressing weather has made me lazy and reluctant to deviate from my weekday routine of work-workout-movie/tv show and weekend routine of eat-nap-eat-drink-eat. So you'll just have to read about things in my life that aren't so new.

Cockroaches

I'm immune to the sight of them crawling along my wall. I don't even bother to kill them because they're on steroids and will manage to run away after I smash them with a napkin.

Mickey Mouse

I hear noises coming from inside the walls once in awhile and just pretend that it's the heater that's causing the scratching noises. Then one day I found a hole in my bag of chocolate chips and mouse droppings on the floor and could no longer be in make-believe land. The superintendent covered up the openings in the walls and I have yet to see new droppings.

Cookie the Dog and Her Screeching Owners

My apartment backs up to two other apartment buildings so I can hear everything that goes on in my neighbors' homes. A Spanish-speaking woman is always yelling at her two children, presumably teenagers, and their dog, Cookie. They'll wake me up at 6am and sometimes 7am with her screaming, the son singing and the dog barking. I have no clue what they look like, but I imagine the mom to look like a Latina version of Frau Farbissina from Austin Powers and her son like an unattractive Glee character. Whenever I walk past their apartment building, I always look for a woman and try to see if I can recognize her voice when she talks to the store keepers. I haven't been able to identify her yet.

Bachata Music

I have another loud neighbor who always wakes me up at 4am with what I assume are phone calls since I only hear him talking in Spanish. His obnoxious laughs are dry and coarse, like he's having difficulty expelling air from his chest. I imagine him as an overweight old man with a balding head who slaps his thigh when he's laughing. He must be hard of hearing because he blasts his music so loudly that I can successfully Shazam it--he has an affinity for Frank Reyes and bachata music, which makes me seek out a Dominican man whenever I pass by his apartment building. I always think about what I'd say if I ever see him and the screaming mom in person.

Next post: the men who work at the stores on my street. There's the guy who has short-term memory, the socially awkward creepy guy who always tries to talk to me but can't seem to get a full sentence out, the guy who always states the obvious, and another creepy guy who tries to talk to me as I'm always walking away.

Santacon: Drunk Santas Take Over New York City

2010-12-12T11:50:00.013-05:00

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday celebration--that was until yesterday, when I participated in my first Santacon. Santacon is like a Christmas version of Halloween but instead of night time parties, festivities start in the morning and last until the night...or until someone passes out on the street.

Several areas in the city were designated starting points. We started at Stuyvesant Square at 10am and followed the people with the candy canes to the next stop.

People were really creative with their costumes. I'm not sure if this guy made it in the subway later.

Luca libre Santa.

Santa riding Rudolph.

White trash Santa.

We walked down to East Village and invaded the bars. Almost everyone had a cup of coffee or soda bottle in his/her hands...

...aka beer/liquor.

While we were waiting outside the bar, we checked out some more costumes. I think she's a Christmas tree.

Frosty the Snow-woman.

Not really sure WFT this guy was but I called him bubble gum Santa.

A bar at 11am filled with Santas and a few of his elves.

Rudolph.

Uncle Sam Santa with a mistletoe down there.

We left East Village and headed to Central Park.

We sang some carols on the train.

On the way I saw King Kong Santa.

By the time I got to Central Park, my bladder was about to explode. I have never had as much penis-envy as I did yesterday. Guys were peeing everywhere.

People from all the different starting locations converged at Bethesda Fountain.

A game of Duck Duck Santa.

Someone brought a reindeer pinata. I got some beads!

Santacon welcomed the Jews.

Chicken Santa.

The Gingerbread Man ate a man.

Jesus Christ!

Douchebag Santa.

After Central Park we went to West Village and bar hopped, danced and played ping pong.

By night time we saw Santas sleeping and getting sick and police giving tickets to Santas with open containers.

Thanksgiving in St. Lucia

2010-11-29T23:28:00.009-05:00

Thanksgiving--it's the one holiday where I get to put on my fat pants and gorge myself with comfort food to the point that I feel like I'm having a foodbaby. This year I spared myself the extra five pounds and got my Thanksgiving tan-on in St. Lucia in Rodney Bay.

The tropical island is mountainous and has a drive-through volcano.

St. Lucia isn't really known for its beaches so I didn't get the white sandy beaches and crystal blue water that I had seen in the Bahamas.

Nevertheless, I still enjoyed swimming in the warm ocean in solitude.

I ended up befriending Beez, a 37 year old (his hair is 16 years old) weed-loving, vegan Rastafarian who works at the scuba shack on the corner of the bay. He's one of ten children, grew up on a farm, and was always starving as a kid because his siblings got to the food before he did. I think we clicked because we have similar perspectives on how people should be treated and on finding happiness in simplicity.

I rented a kayak from Beez and went from Rodney Bay to Pigeon Island. It took me about 35 minutes to get across the bay.

I parked the kayak outside of Sandals Resort and roamed around. Several horses were freely grazing on the grass. This one started walking towards me when I took a picture of it.

The island has old fortresses that the British once used to spy on the French ships from Martinique.

Two hills on the island offers nice views of the bay. I kayaked from the north end to the south end.

I was super sweaty after the hike (plus it's humid) so I went for a swim. Throughout my time in St. Lucia, I was always surrounded by old, overweight English people in bathing suits three sizes too small.

On my way back on the kayak, the skies got dark and the calm ocean started to develop rolling waves. I must admit, I was scared that it was going to rain and that my kayak was going to tip over. I imagined a hurricane passing through (Hurricane Tomas destroyed parts of the island earlier this month), me dying and never to see my family again, which motivated me to vigorously paddle to shore. Of course when I get back on land, Beez tells me that I should have kayaked along the shore instead of cutting straight to the island.

Beez and I sat on the porch of the shack and watched the sun set. The skies were too cloudy to have the usual magnificent colors that he usually sees. And while I was sitting there, bugs were going to town with my legs, which still itch as I type this...but at least my legs are tan.

Tompkins Square Halloween Dog Parade

2010-10-27T22:06:00.005-04:00

October = Halloween = Dogs dressed up in costumes!