And Finally, Fiji

We planned to use Fiji as a rest stop prior to heading home from our 13 week romp around the globe. I have visited the three largest islands of this Oceanic paradise on medical missions over the past four years, and thought it would provide the perfect closure to our unconventional meanderings. We Island hopped from Viti Levu to Vanua Levu to meet with my friend Maloni, Chairman of surgery at Labasa Hospital, and rented a 4X4 before heading to Savu Savu.

I thought it imperative to introduce Matt to the best chicken wings the world has to offer at the local Chinese restaurant. I had been building up these chicken wings the entire trip, comparing all others to the delight which can not be approached. Unfortunately, the wings were not quite as I remembered, good but not the best ever. So much for credibility. We did spend the night in the Grand Eastern Hotel where we were able to enjoy the pool, a bottle of beer and the evening. We departed the next morning for the trans-island pot hole ridden road to Savu Savu and the Daku resort. Savu Savu is a small village on the west coast of Vanua Levu, famous for its harbor and serenity. Our plan was to spend the hours swimming in the Koro Sea, gawk at the sunsets, consume the double strength kava we purchased in Port Vila, sit on the veranda greeting the people passing bye with a hearty ‘bula,’ and culminate with a four day reflection session. Unfortunately, it turns out my son is a magnet for mosquitoes, especially the Fijian variety, who are resistant to most organic repellants. This required a bit of mandatory indoors sequestration, and a modicum of swimming.

Blue Lagoon:

As this is my last post as a travel correspondent I find myself with few words left to describe the lush vegetation, friendly inhabitants, magnificent crystal clear waters, and sun soaked days we experienced. Each passing hour increased the terminal velocity of our trip, and the ever present final flight from Fiji to L.A. It is hard to comprehend how fast the days and weeks passed, but here we are flying home tonight, a bit heavy hearted, but happy for where we have been, who we have met, the food we have eaten,and the ablity to look at each other with good humor. Our days as peregrinations finally coming to a close.

Respectfully submitted
SLR

A Different type of Golfing in Vanuatu

Today is a day for relaxation.  Waking at 5:30 from our previous night out and about in Port Vila, including a visit to the local Kava Bar, we readied ourselves for a rousing game of golf at the only course available on the island of Efate.  The Warwick resort is the home of a 14 hole Championship course, if you consider a tee box and greens with marked holes as the only requisites of a championship course.  The curators here are also responsible for maintenance the tennis courts and playing with the occasional ping pong enthusiast.  We made a tee time of 7 am, but were informed any time we show up will be our starting time.

We arrived at 7:20, to Simon sweeping the floors of the Club house.  With a huge smile on his face, he happily set us up with golf clubs, balls and a map of the newly redesigned course.  Matt and I were playing for high stakes, and as such, rules of play required clarification.  The primary rule defined an equalization clause: the winner of each hole would drink a swig from our blue water bottle, having been filled with Bourbon prior to leaving our cabin this morning.  With clubs and rules in tow, we headed out to the first hole.

Our first swings resulted in our shots missing, not only the fairway, but the entire course.  New rules: each is allowed three Mulligans, to be utilized at the player’s discretion.  This game was obviously going to be an evolution of changes.  The first hole went to Sandy, with a par, not counting the Mulligan. So, the first gulp of bourbon goes down, and not smoothly.  If you have never experienced consumption of high alcohol content in the form of warm bourbon straight out of a metal canteen before 10am, it will be difficult for us to describe the effect it plays with your taste buds, throat, stomach and brain.  At this point a new rule is forged.  The person losing the hole is required to push the hand cart.  This is no small feat, as the course was designed on the back of a Billy goat, running up and over steep hills and down into the valley below.

Second hole is a straight up affair which played directly into Matt’s hands, as he eked out a two stroke victory.  Matt now realizes the pain of winning a hole with the bourbon burning down his throat. The backdrop of the course is a stunning view of the Pacific Lagoon as it reaches into the Pacific Ocean.

Now that each of us has been insulted by the bite of alcohol, we are ready to begin the competition in earnest. Sandy pushes the cart up over the bluff in search of hole number 3.  Part of the beauty of this game includes identifying the tee boxes of successive holes. Pushing the cart around the rough terrain in search for the next tee box is like a hill running work. Once located, the battle continues.  Not much competition on hole number 3, and Sandy wins with another par.  He joylessly forces down another bourbon shot with the only satisfaction being Matt has control of the cart.

The next hole is a push; the flask remains untouched, while the cart pushing responsibilities are shared.  With Sandy up 2:1, holes 5 and 6 are captured by Sandy, giving him a 4:1 edge, but included in this is the responsibility of imbibing two consecutive swallows of the ever intoxicating contents of our “water” bottle. At this point, Matt believes some rule changes are required to even the playing field.  We agree that Matt can now have 12 Mulligans.  This seems a bit unfair to Matt, as he bargains, and succeeds, in adding his original Mulligans to the newly acquired 12 for a total of 14. One had previously been cashed.  The sky darkens, and then opens up and pisses all over our heads, a welcome cooling effect, erasing some of the humid heat crushing down on us.

Sandy appears to be a bit wobbly as we approached the 7^th hole, with four shots of bourbon warming his soul and numbing his mind.  Armed with his newly requisitioned cache of Mulligans, Matt swings freely on this hole and his game comes alive.  He produces a beautiful tee shot landing square in the middle of the green. Sandy missed the green, but chips his second shot within 3 feet of the pin. Sandy is confident he will push this hole; however Matt calmly stands over his 8 foot putt and drills it home.  A natural birdie, no Mulligan required. The hole and the bourbon belong to Matt, the cart to Sandy.

The next tee box is up the hill, and difficult to find, all taking a toll on Sandy’s stability as he drunkenly maneuvers the cart around the course.  New rule change forces Matt to the use of no more than two Mulligans per hole. On the 8^th hole, Matt’s confidence is growing, and he manages to capture a second consecutive hole pushing the score to 4:3 Sandy.  Matt benefited from Mulligan on this hole, however still has 4 holes and 8 Mulligans left.  The 9^th hole is a push, Sandy uses one of his Mulligans, and Matt follows suit.  We are down to three holes, and the bourbon has moved into the fore front, maintaining an edge over the competitors.

The tenth hole sees a new strategy form Matt.  He appears to be taunting Sandy, trying to get into his game with verbal abuse.  At first insult, Sandy duffs his shot off the tee.  This gaff has a gut wrenching effect on Matt, laughing so hard he is unable to stand without support of his club.  He approaches his shot still giggling uncontrollably and pulls his shot way to the left.  A Mulligan finds the rough, even further to the left. Sandy takes the hole with a grin, confident in the idea Matt will give up his new rattle tactic.  Unfortunately the bourbon is taking its toll on his ability to care about the game.

Matt pars the next hole without the benefit of a Mulligan. He has enough gratis shots to get through the last two holes.  Even in the face of a 5:4 deficit, he feels confident he can capture the cup with a strong finish.  Unfortunately, the bourbon has a different plan.  On Hole 11, Matt uses both of his Mulligans off the tee, still finding himself in an untenable position on the course. Sandy makes an ill advised alcoholic offer to hit a drive for Matt in exchange for the surrender of one of his two remaining Mulligans.  With the aid of this well placed drive by Sandy, Matt is able to regroup and tie the hole.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we go to the 12 th and final hole with the Ryder cup on the line.  Will Matt come through, win the hole and force an extra hole play off, or will Sandy close the door in regulation.  The 12^th hole requires a straight up hill walk, not easily accomplished in the drunken state of the competitors, especially as the temperature and humidity of this November day has increased.  At the top of the hill, Sandy pulls his ball to the left, 90 yards from the green.  Matt pulls his shot, is a mere 40 yards to the left. Sandy hits a nice shot, but cant hold the green, as it skips into the far sand trap.  Matt’s watches his pitching wedge foray fall short of the green. As it hits the near sand trap, it takes a wicked good bounce and lands on the green, 6 feet from the pin. Sandy is up and out of the sand, 5 feet from the pin.  With no sign of the palpable pressure, Matt calmly sinks his putt to win the hole,  tie the game and force a one hole play off.  This requires the re-ascension of the monstrous hill to the t-box of hole #12.

At the top, a few breaths are required to stabilize the golfers.  Matt hits first and duffs his shot, half way down the hill, but in the fairway. Sandy sprays his ball to the right, off the fairway and into the planting box of hole number 1.  Two mulligans are in order; both players put their shots far to the right.  From his position behind a massive tree, Matt swings hard on two shots, but only manages a total of 10 yards gained.  Seeing this, Sandy elects to hit safely into the fairway of hole number 12, forty yards from the green.  His next shot runs off the green and lies precariously on the down slope of the sand trap.  Meanwhile, Matt places his next shot on the green. The tally, Matt laying 4, Sandy laying 3. Sandy flubs his next shot and ends up in the sand.  His next swing puts his ball on the green, equal distance from the pin as Matt. Matt is in clear control of the play off hole.  He putts his ball far to the right, leaving the hole open for Sandy to two putt and take the hole and the match.

Sandy realizes, too late, his reward for winning requires finishing of the bourbon in one big gulp.  It is an Ah-Ha moment following the near expulsion of his gastric contents he realizes that Matt had blown his putt…purposefully.  Game over.  A wonderful morning spent together in the surroundings of the tropical setting of Vanuatu.

The selfishness of winding down and getting stoned with a savage

It has been quite a while since I have posted, and I have been trying to come up with an explanation for where my motivation has gone. What I have reached is that as the trip has been winding down (we are now one week from our return to the states!), I have been trying to hoard as much of the remaining time and not let it slip from my grasp. Rather than flipping open my computer screen, I focused all of my efforts on savoring every last bit of Taiwanese street food goodness (and there was a enough goodness to savor for the rest of my life). Rather than clicking “new post,” I let the unbearable humidity of Singapore sap all of my energy. Rather than taking the time to pound on the keyboard, I suffered the homesickness of visiting a place that feels like home, but just quite is not home (thanks, Sydney). And rather than uploading photos, I relished in the natural picturesque wonderland of Tasmania. All of this is to say, I was being selfish.

But now we are in Vanuatu, and I have come to accept this adventure’s impending end. While not ready for it, I am certainly at peace with its inevitable arrival. So here I am, back with you.

Vanuatu was one of the places I knew absolutely nothing about before this trip. In fact, I had never heard of this tiny island nation with a population the size of Irvine, California before the pops insisted on putting it on the list (prior to this trip, the pops had gone on multiple medical missions to Fiji and was told that the friendliest people in the world live in Vanuatu, and while this may have been enough to motivate the stopover, I suspect the book Getting Stoned with Savages and the fact that Kava is supposedly significantly more potent in Vanuatu than in Fiji also played a role), but whatever the motivation was that got us to this piece of idyllic heaven, it matters not.

We have kayaked, we have swum. We have golfed, we have napped. We have watched the stars blaze through the night sky to our own personal soundtrack and we have partaken in the dirt drinking ceremony that is imbibing Kava. And through this all, we have been surrounded by the happiest and friendliest natives you could ever imagine. So while I would not say that we have gotten “stoned,” in the traditional sense of the word, with the “savages,” in any sense of the word, this place has definitely given us a contact high and clued me into one fact…the motivation of this trip was getting “stoned” with this savage…

I am going to try and keep these short from now on, which I hope will keep these more consistent for the last few days of this trip.

With that, wander forward,

Matt

Australia Part II – TASMANIA

As an introduction, Tasmania is not its own country. Like Alaska, it has allegiance to a greater authority, and like Texas, the people there are first, and last, Tassies, not Aussies.  They have a whole a different attitude.  Friendly, but a bit more isolated. Tasmania lays to the south of its parent, with the capital, Hobart, situated on the south eastern edge, 1600 miles south of Sydney.   The island is 260000 square miles with a population of 500,000. In comparison, Alaska is 586000 square miles with a population of 730,000.  Like Alaska, half of the population of Tasmania lives and eats in its capital.  The vast majority of the island is marked as National Reserve with limited access roads.  And, oh yes, driving is on the left side of the road, which I instinctively breeched, quite often. What do Californians do when they find themselves in Tasmania with a car and a map?

We landed in Hobart, expecting our car to be ready and waiting for us.  Unfortunately, no.  So off we crowded into a taxi, destination our only pre-booked reservation, the Edinburgh Gallery B&B.  John, the owner and sole employee, is a gregarious, talkative sort, anxious spend time with his guests, and help in any way he can. He suggested we go down to the harbor for a seafood dinner.  Unlike every other place we had visited, John recommended we walk to the Harbor, a breezy 2 Km jaunt. Happy to get a bit of exercise, off we went, hunger in our bellies, wind in our faces.  It seems that Hobart is quite busy with vacationers this time of year, and after being rejected from one eatery (told that the restaurant was not quite open, and was incidentally booked solid for the night). So, wandered around a bit and found one that again, was not quite open, but would let us sit and eat if we promised to vacate our table by 7pm.  The menu was heavy with fish, mostly of the fried variety, served with potato fries.  “Battered and Fried” being the key delight in Hobart.  We selected non-fried fish, much to the chagrin of our waiter and waitress.

After gaining access to our 4X4 chariot the next morning, we headed up to the highest peak in Hobart, Mount Wellington, and (4160 ft) to have a look around.  Unfortunately, the windy mountain road was closed, as it was the climax to the Hobart Half Marathon which by sheer chance was run on that day.  We parked by a close by hiking trail and availed ourselves to the beauty of the fern laden flora.  The foot path led us to a waterfall where we were able to catch a bit of shade and relax.

On returning to our car, the road to the pinnacle had opened, free to travel.  One thing to note in Tasmania, the roads are narrow, and often heavy with blind curves, so prepare yourselves for very close encounters with opposing traffic.

The top of Mt. Wellington affords a majestic view of the city port below.   It is one of the highlights of Hobart, not to be missed, as evidenced by the huge crowd present when we arrived:

Our plan was to drive up the picturesque east coast route, stop when tired, eat when hungry, and use the utilities when…well you know, reminiscent of Forrest Gump. The beaches were void of sun worshippers, and we stopped often for a respite from the pressures of the road, and physical restrictions of the auto.  Our first night stay would be in a small township, Swansea, on the coast.  The bungalow Swansea Hotel was perfect for us, sitting on the sand with clear appreciation of the sunrise, and pretty fair view of the sunset as well.

We ate dinner and breakfast at the main eatery in town, restaurant and bar on the right, bakery on the left, all owned by the same proprietor. Satiated and wide awake, we headed for Cole Bay and Freycinet National Park, one of the heralded points of interest.  The reserve is located on a peninsula with Cole’s bay on the right and the Tasman Sea to the left.  We embarked for our 3 hour hike from the car park, and ascended the rocky climb to the saddle of the coastal mountain range.  The area is designated Wine Glass Bay, and for good reason. I can not really give the scenic view proper accolades, so please enjoy the photographs:

Our travels have encouraged us to walk between 8 to 12 miles daily over the past 11 weeks, and a day spent physically idle is a bad day, so the hike was greatly appreciated. On the down slope to Wine Glass Bay, Hilary happened to meet and chat with a fellow UCLA graduate.  He is now living in Cambodia, working for the US embassy in Phnom Penh.  A small world when your alma mater is UCLA.  Lunch was on a park bench in Coles Bay, absorbing the sunshine and cooled by the slight off shore breeze.

We wanted to get to the sleepy coastal village of St. Helens by the late afternoon, so as not to miss open restaurants.  Our efforts to find acceptable rooms left us a bit baffled.  St. Helens is a one street affair, a few choke and pukes, a gas station, a super market, an information center, and two or three motels on the main road. When it comes to sleeping, we are rarely particular, but one place looked like a crack house, and another was worse.  Exhausting the domiciles into town, we headed back along the coast and found the place!  A collection of self contained cabins on a bluff overlooking the harbor.  If you wait, it will come.

We checked into our domicile, #11, and went to the market to buy food for our first experience of cooking since leaving southern California.  Understand, this is 11 weeks into our trip, without ever preparing a meal.  A bottle of wine, spaghetti, and vegetables, followed by a rousing game of cards in which I got crushed by the competition.  I think the cards were fixed.

Our next stop is Launceston, the second largest city in Tasmania, and approximately 200 km from St. Helens.  The attraction is the Cataract Gorge.  The trip took twice as long as expected due to the circuitous road through the mountains.  The beautiful drive is a bit nullified by the narrow road and lack of a shoulder to act as a cheater on the close turns.

The Gorge area is the result of a river cutting through the sandstone ridge.  Matt and I discussed the definition of  a Gorge and how it differs from a Canyon, but could not identify any qualifying factors. The internet informed us that they are basically the same entity, simply given different names. Gorge in Europe and Asia, Canyon in America.  Who knew?  The area was discovered in 1809 as one of the most beautiful waterfalls in existence.  The South Esk River is bridged by two suspension bridges, one at the Head of the First Basin, and the second one further up the river at Duck’s Reach, the site of the hydroelectric plant.  When the plant was first constructed, in 1895, Launceston was the first city south of the equator to have electricity driven by the flow of water.  In the construction of the Bridge at Duck’s Creek, the workers and supplies were transported across the gorge by a flying fox.  Take a look at the bridge, and see if you would like to fly across that span in a tenuous contraption like a flying fox:

Once we returned from our hike to Duck’s Reach, we had a decision to address.  Stay here, in Launceston for the night, or drive to Richmond tonight.  Richmond is the site of the Bonorong animal sanctuary, and a mere 45 km from Hobart.  Richmond won the battle, and upon arriving in the small rural township at 7pm we immediately sought accommodations for the evening.  The problem: no rooms available.  Not one.  We checked.  So, with no other options, we headed for Hobart, not knowing that five large conventions had invaded the capital.  We searched for rooms for two hours with the same response, no vacancies. Matt finally found one place, Tree Top Inn, which had one room.  We secured the reservation and headed up Davies Street, to the inn owned by Jenny and Ron. The Tree Top Inn turned out to be a stand alone cottage in the lower woods of Mt. Wellington, proving to be an idyllic site to spend our last two days in Tasmania. The cabin was really a two story house with three bedrooms, full kitchen and a comfy living room situated on the property just above the main house. Our landlady and husband could not have been more affable and hospitable. The absence of city lodging became a blessing.  Exhausted by the long day of driving and hiking, we said goodnight and all experienced a full, unerupted night of rest.  The next day we headed for Bonorong.  I am not a fan of zoos, and expressed this opinion.  Bonorong, however is not a zoo.  It is a sanctuary where injured animals, failing to thrive, are brought back to health, and re-inserted into their natural habitat.  Here we were able to pet and play with kangaroos, Kuala Bears, Whombats, and even get a glimpse of two of Tasmanian Devils. The keepers are informative and engaging.  I was wrong, this is a place to be visited.

Not to let an afternoon go to waist, we experienced MONA (Museum of old and New Art).  The Museum was put together by David Walsh, who parks his car in a spot marked GOD.  I am too provincial to understand the works presented in this avantgarde explosion of absurdities.  Leave it to say, we stayed an hour exploring the bowels of the entrails found within, and that was more than enough time for all of us.

Our time in Tasmania at an end, the next day was relegated to cleaning up and getting to the airport on time for our flight back to Sydney.  We had just enough morning to visit a walking track in the hills adjacent to our residence prior to departing.

Respectfully submitted,

 

SLR

Australia, Part I – Sydney

Our flight from Singapore to Australia is an 8 hour affair.  The airline carrying our west coast USA travel worn bodies was scheduled to depart at 1:45 am.  That is not a typo.  The airline is Scoot a relatively new no amenities airline which may be the future of air travel. They supply the seats, and…. That’s it, they supply the seats. There are no frills, no in-seat entertainment center, in fact no entertainment at all.  No electrical hook-ups and no refreshments provided.  A halcyon cocktail prior to take-off provided uninterrupted sleep.  When my eyelids lifted after 5 ½ hours, my throat was parched from the non-humidified air-conditioning.  I sought out a stewardess in hopes of securing a bit of water.  The smiling attendant explained there was no water other than a small 6 ounce bottle with a tariff of 4 dollars. A small price in the hopes of  preventing of my desiccated tongue from rolling up in dry swallow final destination – my stomach.  Following the usual immigration dance at Sydney airport, we found our way into the city.  Guess who was waiting for us there? HILARY!!!

This is my 5 th visit to Australia, Hilary’s third, and Matt’s first. Our plans are to explore the harbor area for a few days followed by a self guided road trip excursion through Tasmania.  We emerged onto Wentworth avenue, where the weather was turning decidedly unfriendly. Passing bye Sydney Hospital, there is a Statue of a Boar, which I am told, bequeaths good luck on all those petting its nose.

Sydney has the feel of the great Northwest north America, Seattle to be specific. Quite a few parks are littered throughout the downtown area, with each one making claim to statuesque beauty.

Down at the harbor, the majestic Sydney Harbor Bridge connects the business district to the North shore.  The bridge was constructed in 1932, and is one of the ten longest spanning arch bridges in the world (sixth to be properly reverent). It is held held together by six million Australian-made and Australian hand-driven rivets.  Four years of sweat hours went into this construct, including the loss of sixteen lives.  This endeavor  was specifically completed to provide a lovely backdrop to our evening meal on the harbor walkway.

A second world renown edifice lives on Sydney’s harbor edge, The Opera House.

If culture does not seize your very soul, gawking over the unique architectural design might enhance your appreciation of form and function.  We stopped at what appeared to be an authentic outdoor-indoor restaurant with a clear view of the beauty displayed on this harbor evening, only to be victim our 11 week companion. Yes, the evil lord of darkness rained on our parade, even here in the perennial  sun soaked coast or Australia.

Our stay in Sydney included a coastal walk – Bondi to Bronte.  The beauty of this coast, with its inlets and occasional silty white beaches, is breath taking.  Literally, your breath disappears as your body absorbs the irregular path up and down the rocky breakwater that borders the coastal margin. The heat on a clear day is unforgiving, however the spectacular view is decidedly other worldly.  Surfers are seen in abundance throughout, attempting to conquer the perfect right to left breakers.  Tide pools are filled with life, as are the trails around the rocky coastline.  We did put our tootsies in the ocean blue, which was a tad colder than expected.

Exiting at Bondi beach central, we could not help but notice the posters announcing the appearance of The Beach Boys performing on the sand  tomorrow. Unfortunately, we will be in the air once again before they take the stage.

Matt and I secured reservations for the Sydney Bridge Climb, to catch sunset over Sydney bay. We were admonished that there were no conditions which prevents the climb from proceding, rain or shine, wind or hale, be on time at our designated start of 4:50 pm the next day.This is a guided climb, completely exposed to the elements, ascending over the top of the arch, standing at the zenith, wind in your face, fear in your heart, protected only by a clip secured to a rail running over the outside of the bridge construction. Hilary and I accomplished the climb on our last trip, and we wanted Matt to experience the same exhilaration.  The two of us were a bit tardy on leaving our apartment, which required us to run the 3km to the Bridge Climb office.  It began raining, a hard, unyielding rain, which turned into a torrential downpour.  By the time we entered the office, our foul weather gear were completely soaked through, penetrating into our shirts and shorts. The attendant apologized for the weather, and explained it was too dangerous to attempt the climb. With nothing left to do, we bar hopped our way back to the apartment, another story to add to our travels.

No Worries Mate, Cheers!

Respectfully Submitted,

SLR

Singapore in the Mist

Ever since our plane landed in Singapore, I have been miserable.  Not a miserable person, mind you, for I am always quite amiable, but miserable in the sense of poorly adapted to the environmental conditions.  My perception of sticky, hot and humid has advanced to a new understanding of the word miserable.  Over the past three days, the temperature has hovered in the mid to high eighties, whereas the humidity has stabilized at 98 (might as well be 100 percent).  To the uninitiated, this level of moisture means the traveler is continually walking in a shower, whether it is raining or not.  Wake up in the morning, take a shower and remain sopping wet for the entire day.  When the ambient temperature raises to the 80’s the combination of humidity and heat renders the unfortunate inhabitant in an unrecoverable state of lethargy.  If this is late fall in Singapore, I “gotta get outta” here.  My mind is numbed by the intensity of the atmosphere, so much so I can not put two cohesive thoughts together.  Thus, rather than write a compelling post championing the virtues of this tiny country at the southern tip of Malaysia, I will let all the photos we have secured with our phones walk you, the comfortable reader, through the extravagance which is the island of Singapore.

Our hotel room…much like the trans-Siberian train cabin…mess storage space

Impending hot rain

The rain came!

Keep me dry please


The Marina Bay Sands


Up top

Back on the ground

Har par villa, an amusement part with morals!

The bowels of hell at the amusement park

The laughing Buddha

Gardens by the Bay

The cloud Forest

The flower Dome

These sights, without explanation, are presented to you as a collage if our two day experience here. Eating delectables consumed the remaining hours in the tiny city state of Singapore..
One further note, here is a sign on an underground train which epitomizes their philosophy

Eating and drinking fines in the transit underground are heavily damaging to your wallet, however bringing a foul smelling fruit subjects the offender to unknown punishment, possibly caining!

Respectfully Submitted
SLR

Chang Gung

In 2010, Rocky Ulma, then a resident in the  UCLA Department of Oral and Maxillo-facial Surgery, informed me she would be spending a week at Chang Gung Hospital in Taiwan.  I have to admit, I was more than a bit jealous.  This hospital, long known for its excellence in craniofacial and orthognathic surgery, had been the home of Samuel Nordhoff, MD.  He moved to Taiwan in the early 1960’s where he developed a world renowned center of excellence in cleft lip and palate repair/reconstruction.  I was given a replication of the C.G. clinical manual on repair of the unilateral cleft lip while on a surgical mission Katmandu in 2007.  Since that time, this technique manual became the “Open Heart Mission” manifesto and standard of care in our surgical approach to the cleft patient. Rocky had accompanied us on some of these missions, and was keen to improve her knowledge and skills. Always a self starter, she contacted Dr. Nordhoff, who helped her navigate the muddy waters of gaining visitation permission to the C.G. Hospital.  Once approved, she asked if I might be interested in accompanying her, or did I ask her if it might be possible for me to tag along.  Five years is a long time, and I don’t quite remember the particulars, but suffice it to say, we landed in Taoyuen, Taiwan together.

Our time in Taiwan on that trip was academically, technically, and socially one of enlightenment.  Although Dr. Nordhoff had retired, the sitting Chairman of surgery, Dr. Yu-Ray Chen, took great care of us.  He assigned a year long Fellow, Dr. Sing Wing, the responsibility of making our stay, in and out of the hospital, a memorable experience.  However, it was the time we spent with Dr.Chen (Ray) that lives on in my mind.  We consumed many hours, and glasses of cognac, discussing diagnosis, treatment planning and surgical approaches to skeletal deformities. Ray came to California for a meeting some months later.  He stayed at my home, spending time with me in the operating room as well as in our office. Dr. Chen remains one of my most revered friends.  So, when planning this hiatus, one necessary place on my list became Taiwan.

I let Ray know I would be returning to Taipei.  He suggested I might present a small discussion to his residents and fellows. A reasonable request, to which I happily agreed. As our travels led us closer to Taiwan, I began to fret over my presentation. Would I be able to talk at the high level I knew Ray demanded of his colleagues.  In addition, I had not done any homework since the meeting in Washington DC, 5 weeks earlier. Procrastination took its toll, but I was able to put the final organizational touches to the talk while in the car on the way to the hospital.  Ray took us to the basement lecture hall and, introduced me to all the attendees, one by one, including Dr. Lo, the new Chairman of Surgery at Chang Gung.

The lecture hall is a high tech affair with monitors at each desk displaying the contents of my powerpoint presentation.  I began the lecture with the request that all questions be asked as an open forum to facilitate discussion.  We entered into lively dialogue which lasted over the next 90 minutes, at which time Ray closed discussion in favor of retiring to his Golf Club for dinner and drinks.

In the confines of the club, we occupied our own private room and sat in a circular fashion around a lazy-susan table, King Arthur style. Ray opened a nice bottle of cognac, and our lively discussion began anew.

The evening progressed, as Matt, Ray and I finished the bottle of cognac under the ceiling of many toasts. The meal was traditional Taiwanese, however after the disappearance of half of the cognac bottle, I could not tell you what it was I ate. Upon completion of supper and the remaining cognac plus another bottle of whiskey, we retired to the ninth hole of the golf course, taking an evening stroll along the fairway.

The night was warm and humid and alcohol soaked.  The company was warm and gregarious. The evening closed with my promise to return to Taoyuen next year. We left that evening having made many new friends and colleagues. Thank you Ray, for allowing us to be a part of the Chang Gung gang, if only for one night. I will definitely return in the near future.

Respectfully Submitted,

SLR

Chiang Mai, you put Thailand on the list!

I have already shared our un-orthodox Bangkok experience, but it was not until we ventured to the northern province of Chiang Mai that Thailand made it onto the “favorites” list of each the pops and myself. We spent four days in this adventure loving paradise and we only needed two days before this place was forever imprinted in our hearts. So, if you will humor me, let’s talk about how much fun we had…

The first day was the Thai Farm Cooking School and it is precisely what it sounds like. Thai cooking classes are an extremely popular tourist activity in Thailand and for good reason. Who would not want to learn how to make the classics? Papaya salad, tom yum and pad thai? Count me in. Throw in the extra enticement of this cooking school being held on a sustainable farm, and it was an obvious choice for us.

We were picked up from our hotel and with our fellow chefs hailing from Switzerland, Italy, Belgium and Macau headed to the local farmer’s market. Spices, sauces, mushrooms, veggies and tropical fruits with a full prepared foods section, and I knew I was where I was supposed to be. We were only at the market to talk about the few key ingredients that were needed to supplement the produce from the farm (noodles, rice and sauces), but it did not stop me from getting giddy just to be among all that fresh produce.

[Can you possibly look at this and not get excited?]

[Even the pops caught some of the produce fever!]

Once we got to the farm, everything was a well oiled machine. We were introduced to the kitchen (essentially a rural version of a Food Network cooking competition kitchen), shown a small piece of the farm (I would have much preferred to spend a larger percentage of the time talking about the creation and workings of their sustainable farm, but that was obviously not why the rest of our group was there – although who knows why they they all wanted to learn to cook Thai food anyway since they were all complaining about how spicy even the mild spice level was), and then given individual trays of prepared ingredients for each dish. The staff did all of the cleaning of the veggies and dishes, and all we had to do was add a tiny bit of energy (chopping, grinding and heating) and voila…gorgeous looking delicious Thai food. The most eye-opening part of the experience was how quickly each dish is fired for (30 seconds to 3 minutes total) and both the pops and I both left encouraged that even we could recreate these beauties at home. If we learned anything, it was this: start with great ingredients, treat them lightly and it will be wonderful.

[Where the magic happens]

[This farm is producing!]

[The pops examining his station]

[I told you all the work was done for us…]

[Adding a bit of energy to make a fresh curry paste…mortar and pestling toasted cumin, toasted coriander, fresh garlic, fresh shallot, fresh chile peppers and reconstituted dried chiles]


[The finished products]

[Tom Yum]

[Pad Thai]

[Yellow curry and snake bean with basil stir fry]

[Papaya salad…only thing yours truly can’t take credit for as our fearless teacher produced this one]

[And violet colored sticky rice with mango to finish!]

[The newly minted master Thai chefs]

It was a full and exhausting day and the two of us were well on our way to falling in love with Thailand, but it was the hike two days later through the tropical wilderness that cemented our new found love.

Chiang Mai offers many active attractions (zip lining, rafting, off roading, etc.) but ambling through the forest on our own two feet was our drink of choice. The Doi Inthanon National Park called and we answered. We wound through the canopy of a tropical jungle, cooled off in a waterfall, and snaked through the elevated paths built throughout the tropical farms and rice paddies of the park (neither the pops nor I were able to avoid misstepping our way right into knee deep flooded rice paddies, but in such a pristine setting, who are we to complain?). Eventually, after hours of bushwhacking, we reached a hamlet on the top of the hill for our lunch. To say the view was stunning would be an entirely inadequate understatement, so I am going to let some pictures do the talking for me.

[Starting off in the canopy]

  
[Refreshing!]

  
[Careful…]

  
[Digging the view]

  
[My new friend]

  
[What do you see from your lunch time spot?]

   
 All great hikes have the same “well I’m ready to be done now” sentiment during the descent for me, but the overwhelming sense of peace and tranquility we both felt wash over us on top of the hill carried me down the trail, into the transport truck and through traffic, and lifted Thailand to its rightful spot amongst our favorite locales.

We are in Taiwan now (where I am eating myself silly as promised), so more from here or Singapore soon.

Wander forward,

Matt

P.S. I know I said it only took two days in Chiang Mai to make us love Thailand, but I would be remiss if I did not mention the third day we also loved…scooter day! We barreled around town and then hugged the curved mountain roads of Doi Suthep (more accurately, the pops barreled and hugged while I puttered) on our 125cc beasts and felt the thrill of the open road until the skies opened up and brought the heavens down upon us. As much fun as flying around on a scooter can be, that is how terrifying the afternoon of riding down rain slicked mountain roads was for me, but we survived. And like any good story of survival, we both look back on it as a ripping good time.

[Needed a little help from the Thai AAA…]

  
[But most of the time we were scootering]

  

INTERLUDE

2 MONTHS HISTORY, 1 MONTH FUTURE

Part I – Matt and I

We are now ensconced in our final month of worldly meanderings.  The days do move along, whether we are ready for the advancement, or not. One thing has remained constant. It should not surprise any returning reader to know rain has been our companion since the September 3 arrival in Tokyo. Our shoes are eternally moist, our clothes do not dry, but our attitude remains sunny. Our recent discussions have centered around our favorite destinations thus far. This is a difficult decision, due to the many levels which must be considered when delivering a response. What does favorite mean? Is it the food we consume, the presence and accessibility to historical and cultural sites, an adequate transportation model, friendliness of the indigenous population, ease of communication (language barrier), the weather (be it sunny and calm, hot, cold, windy, humid, dark and ominous, and yes, rainy), local activities, natural wonders, and so on. Keep in mind our travels are merely 2/3 complete, so it will surely have revisions by the time the wheels of our Fiji jet  touch California tarmac.

Matt’s list of his favorite places include (not in specific order): Japan, Berlin, Cambodia and Thailand.

My list memorializes: Vienna, Zagreb, Vietnam and Thailand.

It has been suggested that our greatest pleasures belong to places which may have a recurring common denominator.

In Matt’s case this commonality would include all the places he visited without me, on separate but equal travel time. Thus, his side trips coinciding with the working part of my sabbatical gave him his greatest pleasure Is this just a coincidence, or was the alone time overwhelmingly appreciated and even necessary.

In my case, the times we spent cavorting with my friends, Robert and Heidi in Vienna, Chris, Ben, Heena and Alex in Vietnam – specifically Saigon, Zoran in Zagreb, seemed to be my Choice’s Award. Could this coincide with my desire to be with others, with or without including Matt as part of the entourage?

It would be so easy to say yes to these speculative assertions, however I do not ascribe to conclusions falsely arrived.  I believe my time spent with Matt is the best part of this venture. The project was conceived and designed over a nine month period, during isolated packets of intensity. Matt and I labored over the countries and cities to jointly include in our travels, the places we would stay, as well as the time frame which each would occupy. This phase of preparedness included the destinations Matt would visit while I was otherwise entangled in Surgical Stuff. With that aspect in mind, surely these countries were special to him, planned specifically for his needs and desires. My choices circle around my life’s vocation. Something I dearly love to do. Our itinerary had its core designed in accordance to these requirements. I knew in advance they would be my highlight. The planning phase continues to be a major contributor to the resultant jaunt. We have spent now 10 weeks together, with nary an explosion, no tears have been drawn, no threats of disengagement made. Disagreements, yes.  Occasional moody periods of silence, of course. However, I remain Matt’s biggest fan, and he my closest friend. I am honored he sought to include me in his plans to circle the globe as a segue from “career one departure” emerging into “start my second career”. Accordingly, we have shared food, water, alcohol, thoughts and dreams, philosophies, things we hate, things we love, and even beds. One other point, we both include Thailand in our favorite places. Here, we spent all of our waking and sleeping hours together.

Part – II

Rambling around the world relies heavily on air travel. Air travel relies heavily on airports, all commercial.. While making plans, we relied heavily on a company specializing on multiple stop itineraries. Airtreks booked 15 flights spanning a time frame over 90 days. In accomplishing this colossal feat, time spent in airports was never pre-calculated, or even brought to the fore front of consideration. I can assure this has become a clear and present consideration following the overwhelmingly excruciating haul between Chaing Mai and Taipei. The air mileage should be covered under a 5 hour flight pattern. Instead, our gerrymandered path consumed 12 hours, with layovers in Bangkok and Hong Kong prior touching the hallowed ground in Taoyuan, Taiwan.

So, what kind of things can one do in an airport while awaiting the next jumbo bird to carry your aching body to the next rest stop? Every airport is different. Size, shape, amenities, baggage pick-up, passport immigration, security all take the individual personalities of their resident country. England, a country of quiet resolution, has the immigration lines extending a minimal of 60 minutes, usually more, conceivably to test the patience of the traveler unfortunate enough to book a Heathrow stopover. Bangkok is the most beautiful terminal with dragons, serpents and the occasional Buddha gazing down on its guests.  Hong Kong relies on originality, electronic self serve beer kiosk, and a unique Disney experience.  Vienna specializes in losing every piece of luggage entering their airspace.  Doha’s terminal is so expansive, the European bound planes take off from a different zip code. Standing in the wrong sex separated security line in Marrakech might result in an unexpected layover. The agents in Zagreb take lunch breaks when they are hungry, no consideration of timely passenger flight check-in.

All told, the long travel days do serve an unforeseen positive purpose. They supply us with time to relect, gather our wits, and force the creative writing you are now either enjoying, or wondering why you are waistig time on frivolously concocted prose.

Respectfully submitted

SLR

Not Thailand…Not Bangkok…Gaggan

To modify a line from Anthony Bourdain to fit my own purposes, this is not a story about a county or a city, this is a story about one restaurant and a single meal.

Every stop on this wandering tour of the world has been a new country for me, and with that comes a constant level of excitement; however, this one stop in Bangkok always had just a little extra twinkle in my eyes. That twinkle was the dinner I booked some 4 months ago for us at Asia’s #1 restaurant and the world’s #10 restaurant, Gaggan. Since it would not be fair to compare any of the sights or happenings of Bangkok to our dinner, let’s just get started.

Our reservations were for the early time slot, 6:30 pm, so freshly beaten up by Thai masseuses and donning pants and collared shirts (this alone should clue you in to the momentous nature of this event), we arrived at the French colonial mansion housing the restaurant.

[The location]

  
The decor is open and clean, and we were led upstairs to what can only be described as a converted reading nook, with book shelves separating our two table section from the main upstairs hall. The second we sat down, we were handed a leather bound book-like drink menu broken up into non-alcoholic drinks, mixology, artisanal beer, wine, wine by the glass and spirits. Flipping through the menu, I was immediately drawn to two cocktails: 1) “Drunk Samurai (Yossamurai) – Made in Japan litterally meaning drunk Samurai, can you handle it? Drunk Samurai Sake, Yuzu, Umeshu, Fresh Wasabi, Salmon roes-ikura” – Could they make it more obvious that this was for me? and 2) Cohiba Smoked Old Fashioned. The old fashioned is specifically noted as a drink to be paired with dessert, so it was a no-brainer to start with the Drunk Samurai. The pops followed suit.

Our jokester Thai waitress (she was giggling, laughing and playing tricks on us the entire night) then handed us our two options as far as menus: “Taste of Gaggan” or “Best of Gaggan.” The “Best of” menu is the “Taste of” menu plus an additional 3-5 courses (I cannot remember how many additional courses there were since there was no question I was getting the “Best of” menu). Being a high gastronomy Indian restaurant, I had no reservations requesting the vegetarian version of the menu, and was pleased to find that it only differed from the standard menu on 8 of 23 dishes, and each of those dishes was basically the same preparation with just a shift in ingredients. After a bit of conversation and being convinced that no food would get left uneaten, the pops decided to get the “Best of” menu as well.

[The menu…bask in its glory]

  
We placed our order and the “Taste of” menus we would not be using were whisked away and replaced by Gaggan branded sake boxes. Inside the box was a scoop of shaved ice, some green topping and a large paddle with fish eggs on the pops’ and a ruby red fruit “caviar” for me. Our waitress dropped the colorful jewels into the box and showed us how to eat by using the paddles to take a few gems and some shaved ice and to eat it like ice cream. I thought it strange to be served such a large amuse bouche, especially before our cocktails were delivered, but it was delicious, so we dug in to this bright citrus sno-cone with pleasure.

[Dessert to begin]

  
After finishing about half of the box’s contents, the menu’s appetizer bites started to appear. I was having a hard time understanding why they would not have waited for us to finish our first dish and why they would be delivering more before our first cocktails were produced, but since the sno-cone was starting to melt, I decided to drink the rest of the contents before they delivered the rest of the 4 dish set of the 11 piece appetizer presentation (Did I detect a hint of booze in that gulp? Perhaps…). The pops had finished his roe, but decided he was not going to finish the shaved ice. As our waitress dropped off the rest of the first set of appetizers and cleared my box and paddle from the table, she asked if I would like another drink. Another drink? Aha! As was undoubtedly obvious to you from the get go, those “amuse bouches” were our Drunk Samurai. Was I not clued in by the roe on the pops’ drink, the fact that it came in a sake box, its size, the strong clearly yuzu flavor or even the faint alcohol taste? Nope, but a suggestion of another drink and the inordinate “wait” I thought we had experienced for our first drink, and it all fell into place. Needless to say, the pops and I realized we were far too provincial for this place and the pops quickly changed his mind about whether he was going to finish his shave ice. We went with beers next. At least we know what those look like!

If you have read this far, you are here for the food, so here is your reward…

Appetizers:

• Nacho’s Mood Today – A condensed Pina Colada. Tasty, but not mind-blowing.  
• Yogurt Explosion – Burata like consistency with a literal explosion of yogurt and flavor in your mouth the second the outer skin is punctured. Threat level midnight good. Everyone of my taste buds put this on the top of the food list.  
• Edible Plastic Spiced Nuts – Salty and spicy with a terrific crunch. The rice paper melted in our mouths guaranteeing a perfect serving sized new favorite bar snack.  
• Chocolate Chilly Bomb – White chocolate ball filled with cooled spicy chile liquid and topped with edible tin foil. A fancy chile chocolate, but not spicy enough to elicit too much excitement.  
• Bird’s Nest – Crispy potato nest with coriander, pickled onion and a curry “egg.” Supremely tasty, with fine dining technique pairing beautifully with traditional Indian flavor.  
• Onion Pakoda – One of those fine dining dishes that really needs an explanation of the technique involved to truly appreciate the dish (I will talk about this later on). It is obvious a ton of skill went into making this cute little onion explosion, but the texture was so dry, that we did not appreciate the finesse employed with out any knowledge of the process used.  
• Papadam and Tomato Chutney – Simple, crispy and delicious. Improved familiar flavors in a unique presentation.  
• Corn Samosa (the pops had a lamb samosa) – Samosas are good. This was better. End of story.  
• P(ortabella) T(ikka) M(asala)-Burger (the pops had a C(hicken)TM-Burger) – Tikka Masala sandwiched in a bao bun like dough that was made using green tomatoes? “Come on!!” is all I could respond with. Perfect texture (even though mine has the pops’ finger prints all over it) and perfect flavor. I could have eaten a table full.  
• Idly Sambar – Cheese crispy cake topped with a curry foam. I do not like foams. They are pretentious and do not taste good. If all foams tasted like this one, I would change my stance on foam.  
• Cheese Bhurjee (normally an egg bhurjee on the regular menu) – Out comes an opaque ball sitting on a spicy tomato chutney and coriander leaves. A few thwacks of the back of a spoon, and that hardened sugar shell cracks, revealing the runny insides a delectable cheese flavor with the consistency of soft scrambled eggs. This was another revolution for my taste buds, and the perfect end to the appetizer round.    

The Mains:

• Charcoal – Presentation was everything. First they brought out a bell jar topped plate opaqued with smoke. After lifting the bell jar to release the smoke, all we could see was a supposedly edible piece of charcoal. Cutting into the black hardened shell revealed a colorful mash (chick pea for me and sea bass for the pops), the soft consistency of which paired flawlessly with the crunch of the charcoal coating. A good explanation of how all of this was done would have taken this to the next level, but the taste was spectacular enough for it to fly on its own.    
• Magic Mushrooms – Truffle and forest mushrooms wrapped in a sweet crunchy fruit leather crisp. I personally never miss meat when mushrooms are available. You might not either with this masterpiece in front of you.  
• Red Matcha – Delicious tomatoes and grapes with coriander oil just proving that ingredients are everything. As a follow up, a condensed tomato powder is prepared as “matcha” tea (with bamboo whisk and all!) using tomato water. With the coriander oil, the taste was the definition of special, but the concept and execution are what elevate this to the next level.      
• Patrami – A paneer dolma (the pops’ dolma had fish…that’s as detailed as he gets) marinated in a coconut dashi. One bite and I wanted to tell the chef to “get out…just leave…” There are those few times in your eating career when you taste perfection. This coconut dashi was one. I could sell cardboard at $30-$45 per piece if it was marinated in this, and no one would think it an unfair price.  
• Pickle (Pig & Pickle on the pops’ menu) – White asparagus spears (versus pork belly for the pops) centered the plate, but the pickled onions and flowers floating on the edge made the rest of the plate irrelevant. Sour enough to smack your cheeks together, but sweet enough to bring you back around begging for more.  
• Dhokla – Lentil “snow” with a coconut cream in the middle. This is the only thing on the menu that I actively did not enjoy. I ended up with too much snow and no cream, which led to a sahara dry mouth. This restaurant made me re-think foams, but affirmed my dislike for snows.  
• Kebab At Last (Who Killed The GOAT? for the pops) – The dish is really the meat version, as there is a gorgeous lamb chop with beet puree sauce splattered on the plate to look like a violent death, but my curried paneer with apricot jam was absolutely spectacular. I appreciate the attempt to make the vegetarian option look like the meat option, but the paneer was perfect and inducive of jealousy on its own.  
• I Want My Curry!!! – Morel mushroom green curry? Gaggan is a fancy Indian restaurant. You knew this was going to be good. It exceeded all expectations (as did the pops’ lamb curry). This was the second perfect end to a “section” of the meal.  

Desserts:

• Before we get into the desserts, I told you there was a drink to be paired with dessert, so the old fashioned – Table side mixology at its finest. Red pepper infused bourbon, simple syrup, homemade spicy bitters, an orange peel for the zest, a second for the glass, and the coup-d’etat, Cohiba cigar smoke. Make the old fashioned over a crystal clear ball of Japanese ice (I have no idea what makes it Japanese ice, but it is the first whiskey ice ball I have ever been able to see through) and then pipe in cigar smoke to build the old fashioned’s smoky flavor. It was the best old fashioned my dad has ever had, and despite my dislike of red peppers, it is close to the top of my list too. Since this was the last taste in my mouth, it truly was the perfect end to a nearly perfect meal.      
• Gajar Malwa – A carrot cone filled with carrot ice cream. The best of the desserts, but desserts are just not my thing.  
• Fall Season – Eh. Frozen chocolate. Difficult to eat and without talking about the skill that went into the presentation, it was a miss.  
• Bombay Cassatta – A tropical version of Neapolitan ice cream. A bright sorbet trio that merged beautifully together with the crackling of popping candy. Who would not like fancy pop rocks?  
• Digestive Tamarind Leather – The name says it all. A delicately flavored fruit roll-up, the delicacy of the flavor was the most amazing aspect since that is not a typical tamarind characteristic.    

There it is. Three plus hours of gastronomical bliss and easy, enjoyable conversation between the wanderers wrapped up into one post and a lot of pictures. The only two “complaints” that I had about Gaggan come from the fact that it did not stack up against the other top restaurant in the world that I went to this year, Noma. The two issues were: 1) Not every dish was amazing. On the whole, the food was spectacular. It tasted great and was undeniably unique; however, there were a few “eh…” dishes that even though the preparation was high art, they fell flat because we were not made aware of the skill used in creation. 2) Waiters are great, but chefs are better at selling a dish. Our waitress was lovely, happy and fun, and definitely made the meal more enjoyable. On the other hand, she was not intimately connected with the food preparation and could therefore not weave us into the details of what made each dish so special. To be perfectly fair to Gaggan, only in comparison to Noma did this meal not outshine its competition. It was easily the second best meal I have ever had, and I recommend it will all of my taste buds to anyone going to be in Bangkok (and, just in case you were wondering, it is about a 1/3rd of the price of Noma, so there is always that!).

Close curtain on food porn.

Wander forward,

Matt

P.S. Just in case you were wondering how much fun this was, just look at these two. I know it looks staged, but they really were laughing this hard…