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Finding well-being through travel and books. |
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Hello and welcome! I have two great passions in life. The first one is travel. After a series of life-changing events, my husband and I decided to spend the kids’ inheritance and see as much of the world as possible (I’m still bitter about Damascus). Our bible? A Thousand Places to See Before You Die. Please join us on our adventures seeing new places, meeting fascinating people and trying new, exciting, and sometimes just plain weird, food. My second great passion is books. Reading expands my interior world in the same way travel expands my external one. And, books are a great way to armchair travel - not only through distance but through time as well. My tastes are eclectic, so we’ll be looking at a wide range of writing in a possibly haphazard fashion. Come along for the ride! My best, Kirsten ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| “Well, who knew!?” I looked up at my husband as I prodded the wine list with a finger. “Thailand has a wine industry. Look, honey there’s a Monsoon Valley Shiraz. We like shiraz.” “There’s also a nice Chianti from Italy,” he countered, looking a little nervous. “But don’t you think … you know – when in Rome and all that?” I like to try local wines. I’m no expert but I do know what I like and so far I haven’t met a shiraz I didn’t like. We were at the China House restaurant. Located at the Mandarin Oriental hotel, it provided a superb meal of traditional Chinese dishes in a stunning environment with a red and black, art-deco interior. We had a private booth with carved and latticed wooden doors. The staff were friendly, attentive and provided excellent advice. "You've ordered too much food," our waiter cautioned us. He was perfectly correct, but who could resist such dishes as their signature hot and sour soup with huge chunks of lobster, or Peking duck with crispy, fragrant skin and meltingly tender meat? We didn't stop there, of course, we had to have the sautéed scallops and prawns with artfully arranged vegetables. All washed down with, tonight, Chianti. Sigh. But I wasn’t going to give up. Read the rest here  |
| Apparently there is a concert every Saturday and Sunday morning, between eight and nine, in front of the Opera House. Today's concert was a selection of light popular songs played on traditional Vietnamese instruments. These included flutes, percussion instruments and the bamboo xylophone (or t'rung) of the E De people. Turning my back on the Opera House and panning right, I looked down Dong Khoi Street. This is a great place to find the usual designers (Louis Vuitton, Hermes, etc.) high-end handicrafts, silk clothing and a better class of souvenir. And the little video below is an excellent example of pedestrian etiquette in Saigon. The city is stuffed with millions of motorbikes and they don't stop for anyone. There are few crosswalks and even fewer streetlights. your only hope is to start out across the street, walk slowly and steadily and keep going! The motorbikes will maneuver around you. Keep an eye on the person pushing the pram. To see the video continue here |
| One of the things I like best about travelling is having the chance to try new food, so I was thrilled to have an opportunity to learn how to make a few Vietnamese dishes at Mai Home, The Saigon Culinary Art Centre. First, one of the chefs took us through a local food market to pick the ingredients we would need for the class and to identify to us others that are core to the Vietnamese diet. First and foremost comes rice. Rice is so closely tied to the heart of the culture it’s hard for any Vietnamese to imagine a meal without it. While it can come in many forms, we were dealing with three basic ones: the grain itself, grated rice noodles, and rice paper. Rice is eaten at every meal of the day. At lunch and dinner it is usually as the grain while at breakfast, Vietnamese will often have rice noodles in soup. Come and have a cooking class in Saigon. Read more here . |
| The wind whipped her hair around her face as the ferry plunged cross the Mekong Delta. The year was 1929, and fifteen year-old Marguerite Donnadieu (later known as Marguerite Duras) was heading back to boarding school in Saigon from her family home in the town of Sa Dec. It hadn’t been a happy visit. Mama, previously bankrupted by a poor land investment in Cambodia, was more cash strapped than ever and her moods, never predictable, had swung wildly between elation and sobbing despair. But still, she refused to leave Indochina and return to France. Marguerite pushed her hair back and shaded her eyes from the sun, sighing with profound relief to see Sa Dec receding behind her. Still, a coil of worry unfurled in her belly. It was clear that she was going to have to fend for herself, and soon. Her older brother, selfish, egotistical and thieving, certainly promised to be no help. Her younger brother was timid and shy. She chewed her lower lip, and scowled at the enormity of the task confronting her. See more here |
| Tonight we had a special dance performance onboard by children from the Cambodian Light Children’s Association Orphanage. According to their director, Mr Pat Noun, “We are a Khmer-run orphanage and school, taking children off the street and other poor children on the condition that they attend school every weekday. These are the poorest of the poor, but also the light of Cambodia. Our mission: to alleviate the poverty of the poor and street orphans by feeding, housing and preparing them well for a better life, through love and education.” In addition to regular school, they also have an opportunity to learn kick boxing (boys) and apsara dancing (both) Children normally stay at the orphanage until the age of eighteen when they must leave. The exception is if they continue to university, then they can stay until their program is finished. This orphanage gets no funding through NGO’s – it is all private funding, typically provided by individuals. There are lots or rules for apsara dancing. Originally it was a female only dance form, but since the girls must take small steps, not show teeth when they smile and not move about violently, boys were admitted to do the famous Monkey dance. This group of dancers was from the Italian Association for Aid for Children, School of Art in Siem Riep. The little fellow on your left was a cheeky little beggar, absolutely radiating charisma as well as technical talent. He’ll go far. To see the video's and the rest of the post see here |
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