Tucker Goes Global

Nepal – Big Mammals, Big Mountains

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Michael Tucker

Soon after arriving in Kathmandu, it occurred to me ‘I’m back in the Third World, aren’t I?’ It was quite a shock to come from Japan, a country with $50,000 GDP per capita, to Nepal, one with less than $1,000. Kathmandu is an archetypal third world metropolis: unpaved roads, no traffic regulation, no sidewalks, terrible air/noise/visual pollution, incredible heat, unpredictable thunderstorms, men spitting, crowded markets, perpetual noise from motorcycle engines and car horns, scheduled and unscheduled power outages, rickshaws, wandering livestock, piles of trash, crowded and dangerous public transportation, persistent offers for tours/souvenirs/drugs, and restaurant bills that cost 25% of what you expected.

Divinity amongst decay, Kathmandu

Altar in Durbar Square, Kathmandu

Stuffed Dosa in Kathmandu, size of a colonial hat, $1.85

Having arrived without much of a plan, I was lucky to find that my hotel had its own travel agency. Happily leaving the city after one day, I hopped on a bus to Chitwan National Park which, owing to the awful road conditions and mountainous terrain, managed to take 7 hours to cover the 100-mile distance. Luckily, the park itself was worth the trip. My guide and I took a walk through the park, then stopped for a drink by the riverbank. I have been to several places now, and find that the following things are universally loved: sitting by the water, watching the sun set, and drinking a cold beer on a hot day. If you can do more than one at the same time, all the better.

Frosty bottle of Gorkha, Chitwan National Park

The next day, I took a short animal-watching safari in the park with an elephant as my mode of transportation. ‘How did I get here?’ moment: sitting on an elephant and looking down at a rhinoceros. We also saw deer, a peacock, and a monkey. In the afternoon, we took a canoe ride, walked more trails in the park, and visited the elephant breeding center.

Sitting on the shoulders of giants

Rhinoceros enjoying a luxurious mud bath

Staying cool

A 3-month baby elephant, already bigger than me

In Pokhara my trekking guide introduced himself as ‘Panza’, and I wondered if that somehow made me ‘Quixote’ on our little adventure. He took me to a sporting shop to rent the necessary provisions: sleeping bag, down jacket, waterproof trousers, walking stick. The next morning, we set off for a 4-day trek from Nayapul to Ghorepani and back.

Trekking is an immense challenge, and finishing a day’s work on the trails feels rewarding. You prove your toughness to yourself. You remind yourself to stay positive. Your energy level sometimes rebounds dramatically, suddenly, and without explanation. Sometimes you get a huge boost from a passerby’s friendly greeting. You make up mantras to encourage yourself. When you get into the zone and your backpack is perfectly in place and nothing hurts and you are dominating the trail, it’s really fun.

Just keep putting left foot in front of right foot, right foot in front of left. It’s all you can do.

The scenery is often lovely, with tall green hills, waterfalls, and terraced rice fields. Once in a while, the air around you becomes a dense, fluffy whiteness and you realize ‘hey, I’m inside a cloud’ and that’s pretty cool.

Rice fields along the river

Big green valley

I found the trekking very physically demanding; not with respect to endurance, but rather tolerance for pain. Although we walked for up to 6 hours per day, I rarely felt out of breath or that I couldn’t handle more climbing. However, I did feel pain. At times, I could perfectly visualize the anatomy of my leg muscles because they were each in turn submitting their pleas for me to stop. My upper back and shoulders complained loudly about carrying my backpack. My knees were jellified from long downhill stretches. The trails’ hard rocks, angular and haphazardly arranged, punched up at my feet through the flexible soles of my cross-trainers.

But eventually, there’s the payoff: a view of the Himalayas. We reached that point on the early morning of day 3 at Poon Hill. From there you can see the Himalayan mountains Dhaulagiri and Anapurna I. Regardless of your physical condition before then, this sight makes you feel better, stronger, ready for more.

Mt. Dhaulagiri & friends

Mysterious hilltops beneath Poon Hill

The “high point” of the trek

Himalayan peaks

Within sight of the big guys

Trekking in Nepal is adventuresome. It is not glamorous. Glamor is a spotless red carpet spread out over your path; trekking in Nepal is the craps of various animals spread out over your path. Glamor is staying in 5-star hotels; trekking in Nepal is staying in 5-dollar tea houses (with amenities such as one bathroom for all guests, plywood interiors, and no sink). Glamor is opening a walk-in closet of your favorite clothes; trekking in Nepal is pulling on the mostly-dry clothes you will be wearing for the fourth day in a row.

Back in Pokhara, muttering curses at every stair on the way to my fourth-floor hotel room, I felt like an NFL running back on Monday morning. I was happy to be back to civilization (relatively speaking…the power has gone out three times since I checked in). For the next few days, I wish to do much sitting down. Luckily, that’s in the game plan as I’ll be moving into Kopan Monastery for a 10-day introduction to Buddhism course. As my electronic distractions will be collected upon arrival, I will write next shortly after October 12.

Japan – Kyoto & Takayama

Posted on September 22, 2013 by Michael Tucker

In Kyoto I spent two dream-like days wandering from one Buddhist temple to another. Under a steady drizzle, sometimes together with many other pilgrims, sometimes virtually alone. Pacing patient footsteps along the stones lining the canal-side path known as “The Path of Philosophy.” It’s my first time in Asia and this is what I hoped it would be like.

Daitoku-ji

Ginkaku-ji

The temples are so architecturally different than anything Western; it makes their beauty even more impactful. Curving, winged rooftops, dark wood as the primary building material, abundant bright colors. Inner shrines decorated with pale murals or lavish golden lamps and treasure chests.

Monks chanting at Daikaku-ji

Kinkaku-ji

All the Buddhist sects that branched off, necessitating the construction of so many temples, had one core belief in common: landscaping. I have always enjoyed visiting Japanese gardens elsewhere in the world, but walking through the ones attached to ancient Buddhist temples in Kyoto is pure magic. The winding paths, ponds and waterfalls, beautiful native trees and shrubs, statues of Buddhas, and impossible patterns raked into the gravel and sand make it instinctive to relax as you meander about them.

Garden at Ginkaku-ji

Statue among the temples at Tenryu-ji

Garden at Tenryu-ji

Path of Bamboo in Arashiyama

An interesting puzzle I have faced repeatedly in Japan is identifying which of the products on display in stores is food. I think the Japanese frequently package food and display it in stores much the way Americans package and display things like perfume, jewelry, and high-end bath products. So when I see some lovely, colorful item wrapped in shiny cellophane tied with ribbons and arranged delicately in a basket on a table top, I have to wonder–is this food? If so, is it a dumpling? A dessert? Do I have to cook it? How many delicious candies have I foolishly avoided for fear of biting into soap?

Other products I have seen are clearly food, yet I couldn’t hope to divine their origin–sea creature? root vegetable? gelatin confection?

Japan does not have tacos, but it does have “takoyaki”–golden-fried dough globes with pieces of squid and baked into the center. Worth trying (once).

Takoyaki

At a Kyoto restaurant, the waitress handed me a typical leather-bound menu, but when I opened it there was only a poster-sized picture of a stuffed pancake spanning both sides of the inside of the menu. “We only have one thing,” she confessed. “I’ll have that,” I decided, pointing to the picture as per my Japanese menu ordering custom.

The Whole Menu

From Kyoto I took a day trip to Nara to see the Daibutsu (Great Buddha of Nara). He is a big boy! I could have comfortably sat in the open palm of his left hand, and would have if it were allowed. Note: the smallish-looking people at the bottom left of the picture are actually full-sized.

The Great Buddha of Nara

From Kyoto, I headed to Takayama in the “Japanese Alps”. It is a quiet town, good for views of the mountains and walking in the woods at nearby Kamikochi. I also found a delicious ramen noodle restaurant there (more than 10¢, but still a value). From the train window on the way back to Tokyo the elusive Mt. Fuji finally made an appearance.

Moon rising over Takayama

Hiking along riverside trails in Kamikochi

Miyojin-ike Pond in Kamikochi

Roast Pork Ramen (which induces ferocious slurping by Japanese patrons)

Roast Pork Ramen (accompanied by ferocious slurping)

Wanting to “squeeze in” one more authentic Japanese experience on my last night here, I booked a stay at Shinjuku Kuyakusho-mae Capsule Hotel. In a capsule hotel you don’t get a room; you get a tube in a modular unit of many tubes, each just big enough to sleep in. There was also a common area with leather lounge chairs and a restaurant. You get a locker to keep your stuff in, and you get access to large gym-locker-room-style bathrooms. Fun experience, but I wouldn’t do it for more than one night.

My Capsule

Japan is now the best place I have been on this trip. I really love its ethos–dignified, polite, reverent, cheerful, helpful–and its structure–automated, well-designed, easy to navigate, and naturally beautiful. Oh, and its encouragement of weirdness. Dress like a David Bowie album cover and hang out in Harajuku. Slurp your noodles and sleep in public. Accessorize with a surgical mask and an umbrella under the clear blue sky! Be a geisha–it’s still a real job! Be the only fat kid in your class and become a professional athlete (sumo)! What a country.

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Japan – Tokyo & Hakone

Posted on September 13, 2013 by Michael Tucker

There are plenty of fish in the sea…or at least there were until last night when apparently they were all caught and delivered to Tsujiki Market. Wandering between the hundreds of vendor stalls was like SCUBA diving above ground. For every potentially-delicious display of product, there was one bizarre or frightening to match it. Tuna was the main attraction, in all stages of processing–giant whole fish with slices cut out to verify quality, huge chunks of meat being sliced on table saws, hollowed out carcases and heads discarded in piles.

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Having arrived early to Tsujiki, I stopped for a sushi breakfast in a tiny 12-stool counter/diner in the market. After I finished my 10-piece platter (featuring sea urchine and caviar), the sushi chef smiled and said to me “You broosoodus.” Not sure if this was English or Japanese, I smiled back and gave a baffled shrug. He tried again, “Broo Soodus. You look-a-like.” Still clueless, I shook my head in mild embarrassment. “You don’t know?” he asked–“Movie star.” “Ah,” I finally understood, “I look like Bruce Willis. Okay.”

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After breakfast, I made my way to the Senso-ji Buddhist temple. After asking the buddhas of Wisdom and Mercy for their blessings, I visited the temple shrine and the several small structures and gardens on its premises. The gates leading to the temple are very ornate and beautiful and have giant hanging lanterns in their doorways. The temple itself has a cauldron of burning incense in front, which is said to bring good health to visitors.

Buddhas of Wisdom and Mercy, Senso-ji Temple

Senso-ji Temple gate and pagoda

That evening, I hung out in Shibuya, home of one of Tokyo’s famous scramble intersections where hundreds of people multi-merge, glowing under the mist of neon sparks and the echoes of shimmering pop music. I selected a noodle house at which to have dinner, placed my order at the automated kiosk outside, inserted the requisite yen, and was greeted upon crossing the threshold by a hostess who pointed me to a seat at the counter. Each time a customer would arrive or depart, the chefs would sing hellos and goodbyes in whiny, nasally, syllable-stretching, rising intonation mock voices, like Steve Urkel asking “Did I do thaaat?” I think it’s a traditional show of respect.

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/74452765[/vimeo]

Next day I walked south from my hotel in Shinjuku to Yoyogi Park, a beautiful swath of woodlands with a wide gravel path. It was peaceful on a Tuesday afternoon, and the chirping cicadas and my crunching footsteps drowned out all the city noise. At the center of the park is the Meji-jingu Shinto shrine, dedicated to a former emperor of Japan and his wife. Within the shrine, beneath a magnificent tree, one can inscribe prayers on the backs of small blessing cards for priests to convey to the deities in their daily ceremonies.

Yoyogi Park

Prayers being inscribed at Meji-jingu Shrine

Prayers being written at Meji-jingu Shrine

In the afternoon I hung out in Shimokitazawa, a hip neighborhood west of Shibuya. It had a small-town feel about it; hardly any automobile traffic, no skyscrapers, and rows of bicycles left unlocked. The area around the metro station was surrounded by boutiques, restaurants, cafes, and bars. It seemed like it would make an awesome place to live.

Shimokitazawa

In the evening, I went out in Shinjuku. After grabbing a couple of beef tongue skewers at a yakitori house, I walked over to the district known as Golden Gai. It is a few alleys crammed with dozens of tiny bars. Think of a 1/8 scale model of 6th Street in Austin. Each place has an apartment-sized bar, a dorm-sized fridge, and about 8 bar stools; and there’s no room for anything else except the decorations on the walls. Fascinating concept.

I took a bullet train from Tokyo to Hakone to spend a couple of days in the Japanese countryside near Mt. Fuji. I made a reservation to stay at a ‘Ryokan’ (traditional Japanese guest house) and checked in early that afternoon. My room had tatami (straw mat) flooring, a table with 10-inch legs, and a chair with no legs at all. ‘Where’s the bed’ you might wonder? In the evening, a ryokan attendant moves the table and lays out a futon with a pillow and blanket for you. Behind the ryokan was a pretty river that created atmospheric water sounds all the time.

My bullet train arrives at Tokyo Station

My ryokan room at Hakone Suimeisou

This particular ryokan had a couple of traditional features I was excited about: (1) onsen (hot springs baths) at the hotel and (2) Japanese-style breakfast served in your room. Visiting the onsen (like many things in Japan) has a ritual and etiquette to be followed. First, you get into your yakuta (Japanese robe) and wooden sandals. I’m not usually a robe guy, but these Japanese hotels are getting me into the habit. Then, you go down to the bath area. You leave your clothes in a basket in the locker room and then go into the bathing room. There, you take a shower while sitting on a small stool. Then, you get into the (incredibly hot) natural thermal waters and look out over the river. It’s a fine ritual.

The breakfast delivered to my room was certainly not bacon and eggs. Well, there was a soft-boiled egg, but also a whole grilled fish, tofu, sashimi, pickled vegetables, daikon, and a fish nugget popsicle (that may be a loose translation). As I was eating the daikon, I wondered ‘which part is the daikon–the mashed part at the bottom or the shavings on top?’ Then I thought, ‘it can’t be the shavings on top, those have blue highlights.’ Then I thought ‘what vegetable has blue highlights?’ Then I looked closer and realized I was eating dozens of tiny whole white fish with blue eyes. Momentarily aghast, I decided ‘it’s still good’ and finished them up.

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While in Hakone, I bought a pass that allows you use of all modes of transportation in the region. With that I made the circuit of lovely nearby sights, such as the Open Air Sculpture Museum (which I would rate as the best museum experience of my trip), Hakone-jinja Shrine, Lake Ashi, Owakudani volcanic sulfur springs, the Old Cedar Highway, Lake Ashi, and Gora Park via train, bus, ferry, funicular, and cable-car. At one point I was corralled by a couple of eager teenagers who asked me to record a video message for one of their friends (which I obliged) and then took pictures of each other with me. Rare and exotic white man!

Hakone Open Air Sculpture Museum

“Happy Animal Party” exhibit by Hung Yi at Hakone Open Air Sculpture Museum

Fountains at Hakone-jinja Shrine

Old Cedar Highway

Ferry across Lake Ashi

Owakudani Volcanic Sulfur Springs

Gora Park

Well, there’s just enough time for one more visit to the onsen, then one more giant breakfast tomorrow and another bullet train to Kyoto. Japan is quickly becoming my favorite countries to visit.

Just when I thought I’d never again have a cool haircut…maybe?

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Turkey – Istanbul (back on the ‘bul)

Posted on September 6, 2013 by Michael Tucker

Early in the morning, the kebab chef begins his humble but virtuous work. A giant needle pointing upward sits before him. Next to it, a stack of 150 chicken breasts. One by one, the chicken breasts are threaded, creating an interlocking mass of white meat three feet tall, one foot in diameter, and 40 pounds in weight. For the next 12 hours, he will watch over its rotation and the condition of its surface as God watches over the Earth. As the outer-most layer becomes fully-cooked and starts to crisp, he will slice it off thin using a razor-sharp, sword-length carving knife. The juicy, bubbling bits rendered by his blade will be lovingly tucked into a warm bread–maybe a wrap, maybe a circular pita, maybe a white roll–and perhaps garnished with a few vegetables and a sauce. He hands you this stunning work of artisan craftsmanship and you pay the cashier $4 U.S. dollars. Ladies and gentlemen, behold: the doner kebab!

Chicken Doner

Beef and Lamb Doner

Dual Doners

Further on the subject of Ottoman cuisine, if you find yourself near the Spice Bazaar and the New Mosque, I recommend that you follow the tram tracks a short distance toward Sultanahmet to the confectioner and cafe Hafiz Mustafa. Sit down and you will be handed a small phone book (which is in fact the menu) complete with glossy glamor shots of the offerings–all desserts! The Turkish run some serious dessert game, especially the candy. I love Snickers and M&M’s and Starburst, but the Turkish Delight here is on another level; as are the candied green figs; as is the baklava, oozing honey from between layers of flaky pastry every time your fork sinks in.

Deliciousness beckons from within, Hafiz Mustafa

This being my first time in an Islamic country, I have been particularly inspired by Muslim devotion. Seeing the women dressed in black, floor-length burkas covering all but their eyes, watching men and women wash their faces, heads, arms, and feet at ablution fountains before entering a mosque, knowing that they are praying five times a day…even though I don’t understand it all, it is easy to gain an appreciation for their level of commitment.

Courtyard of the New Mosque

Istanbul is the touch point between two continents, and the Bosphorus Strait divides the city between its European and Asian sides. I took the Şehir Hatları ferry on a cruise of the waterway, passing by former Sultans’ summer homes and modern high-dollar real estate. Seeing neighborhoods all along the shores and over the hills in all directions, it’s easy to understand how this is a city of 13 million residents (the biggest I have ever visited). I also took a shorter ferry trip to the western side of the city and saw the ancient fortress walls that used to surround it.

View of the Bosphorus shore from the ferry

Fortress walls at the old edge of Istanbul

Other than that, I have enjoyed a relaxing week of just hanging out in Istanbul. It’s easily one of the favorite places I have visited and the small moments here will remain with me–crouching on a tiny stool at a random kebab shop hidden in the labyrinth of alleys surrounding the Spice Bazaar, having a friendly old man insist on sharing his doughnuts with me in the courtyard of a mosque, sitting within reach of the fountain mist between the Crepe Myrtles of Hagia Sophia, staring into tile patterns of turquoise (Turkish) blue, burning thumb and index finger over and over on tiny cups of tea, listening to the chants of the imams–sometimes steadfast and solemn, sometimes longing and unresolved, sometimes vibrant and unpredictable, over-driving the mosque speakers like a Jimi Hendrix guitar solo.

The Blue Mosque

Tea, Turkish Style

It’s easy to see why people have been living here continuously for 3,000 years, since it was Byzantium and then Constantinople. May it carry on for 3,000 more.

Kebab in another of its delightful incarnations

Turkish Coffee (remember to stop when there’s one sip left–learn from my mistakes)

Gulhane Park

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Eastern European Oddysey – Part 2 (Kiev, Warsaw)

Posted on August 30, 2013 by Michael Tucker

While Western Europe is famously well-connected by trains and planes, Eastern Europe…not so much. In fact, the reason Blake, Michael, and I came to Istanbul in the first place was because we found it unusually difficult to get from Bucharest to Kiev without spending at least one night at some major transportation hub. And while a 6:00 am flight from Istanbul to Kiev seemed rational at the time we booked it, the reality of the accompanying 3:00 am wake-up call was a cold slap in the face. Watching him sitting on his bed at that ungodly hour, cross-legged and shirtless, eating a breakfast of a can of beans (without utensils) and a banana, simultaneously complaining about and relishing its grossness, I couldn’t help but think–Blake, it’s good to be your roommate again.

In Kiev, we visited the city’s beautiful Orthodox churches, St. Michael’s Cathedral and St. Andrew’s Church, and the ancient monastery, Pechersk Lavra. Within the monastery, we saw the catacombs where the bodies of saints are kept under afghans in glass coffins so visitors can see the proof of their sanctity–their exposed, non-decomposed hands.

St. Michael’s Cathedral

St. Andrew’s Church

Pechersk Lavra

Also within the monastery complex is an amazing museum–a collection of miniature works by the artist Mykola Syadristy. Each must be viewed with a microscope, many are almost invisible without it. The works range from a complete chess set to sheet music to engraved portraits of artisits and politicians, to a ship with golden sails and ropes 1/400 the width of a human hair. Syadristy had to make his own tools and learn to pause the beating of his heart in order to complete such fine hand movements.

We then visited the Memorial to the Victims of Holodomor, which honors the 6 million Ukranians who died of starvation in 1932-1933. This was a man-made catastrophe, widely considered a genocidal mass-murder perpetrated by Joseph Stalin as an attempt to crush Ukranian nationalism and its citizens’ capitalist ideology. Hearing the Ukranian perspective on Stalin makes the celebratory portraits of him with Roosevelt and Churchill seem even more bizarre.

Memorial to the Victims of Holodomor

As the Ukraine is a former member of the USSR, it retains some Soviet culture. We were all prepared to be coerced into giving bribes to crooked policemen, but to my disappointment it never happened. However, Kiev’s train station proudly carries on the confounding traditions of communist commerce. It offers dozens of ticket windows, each selling a highly specific category of train tickets, each with different opening and closing hours, and each announcing intervals during its opening hours that it would actually be closed for a scheduled “break”. However, with experience it is a fairly straightforward process–here is a simple 12-step guide to purchasing a train ticket from Kiev to Warsaw:

Attempt to purchase tickets online from rail company (after entering your personal information, web site will fail to load purchase page).
Attempt to purchase tickets online from a travel agency (only delivery option will be to pick up tickets in Warsaw).
Go to Kiev train station, find a ticket window with a feasible description, wait in line.
Discover that you are in a ticket hall that only sells to Ukrainian nationals, relocate to foreigner ticket hall.
Wait in line at the “International Destinations” window. Ticket agent will only speak Ukrainian and will wave you away.
Find English-speaking ticket agent at the next window. She will be unable to sell you the tickets you need and point you to the “International Destinations” window.
Ponder the futility of the situation.
Ask English-speaking ticket agent to write down in Ukrainian the five words necessary to communicate your desired ticket purchase to her neighbor. Although annoyed, she will agree.
Attempt to purchase tickets at “International Destinations” window. Credit card machine will be out of service.
Find ATM.
Return to “International Destinations” window with hand-written note and cash, wait 10 minutes while ticket agent manipulates DOS-based reservation software program, successfully obtain tickets!
Upon boarding the train, realize that although your seat numbers are consecutive, only 2 of 3 are in the same sleeper car.

After a rather inhospitable 17-hour overnight train ride, we arrived in Warsaw. In town we walked through the former Jewish ghetto and to monuments in remembrance of Poland’s war-time tragedies. This is a city that was truly leveled by bombs–it’s “Old Town” is really rather new, having been fully reconstructed since the end of World War II.

Warsaw World War II Monument

Old Town

We visited the huge Łazienki Park with its outstanding botanical garden and palaces on islands and dined at Czerwonym Wieprzem, the traditional Warsaw hangout of international communist leaders.

Łazienki Park Botanical Gardens

We also made a day trip to Lublin to visit the Majdanek concentration camp where 150,000 people were imprisoned by the Nazis, of whom 80,000 were killed. The camp has been carefully preserved to maintain its historical integrity and offers chilling insight into the conditions and atrocities that took place there.

Monument to Struggle and Martyrdom, Majdanek

Three Eagles Column, Majdanek

Having recently visited World War II and Holocaust memorial sites and museums in Germany, Great Britain, the Ukraine, and Poland, I am grateful for the resources these countries have invested to help people understand and remember its horrors. At the same time, it makes me wonder if we, the people of the world, have missed the point. Now that we are aware of the consequences of large-scale international warfare and systematic mass-murder, should we not be doing everything we can to avoid it ever happening again? Should that not be a matter of daily focus, something citizens demand of their governments and governments demand of each other?

On Thursday, my Eastern European Odyssey ended as Blake and Michael flew home and I back-tracked to Istanbul. It was an eventful and memorable two weeks, and I give thanks to the team for letting me join their party. Traveling alone is great, but traveling with friends in strange places is special.

Landscape Alley, Kiev

Urban Bear Pit, Warsaw

Posted in Poland - Warsaw, Ukraine - Kiev | 2 Comments

Eastern European Oddysey – Part 1 (Transylvania, Bucharest, Istanbul)

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Michael Tucker

One of the things I hoped to do during this trip was to go someplace random that I had never before considered going. When my friend Blake told me he was planning to visit Romania and the Ukraine this summer, I thought ‘yeah, that will do it’. Blake was traveling with three more of our friends from Dallas–his wife Cheryl, her sister Carrie, and our friend Michael. We met up in Bucharest and on a dark and rainy afternoon, drove through the Carpathian Mountains and into Transylvania.

The mountain village where we stayed, Sinaia, is a ski resort in the winter. While we were there it was cool and misty, the air was clean, and we had views of the pine-and-fog-covered mountain tops. We visited four castles in the area, including one that is “quite possibly” the former home of Vlad the Impaler (aka, Count Dracula). After leaving the mountains we spent a day in Bucharest, finishing with dinner at the city’s oldest beer hall and then hanging out with the owner of our hotel who served us shots of pálinka (a lip-burning 80-proof fruit brandy) and brined-and-smoked pork fat.

View of the Carpathian Mountains from Cantacuzino Castle

Peles Castle

Bran Castle, “quite possibly” the home of Count Dracula himself

The gang at Caru’ cu Bere, Bucharest

After Bucharest, the ladies flew home while Blake, Michael, and I continued to Istanbul. This is a place I had long imagined visiting–a city that spans two continents, former capital of the Roman empire, and home to sultans, sheiks, and their exotic traditions.

In summary, it lived up to expectations in a major way. In just three days, we saw a lot: Topkapi Palace, Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque, the Chora Church, the Cistern, the Grand Bazaar, and the Spice Market.

At the Palace, home of Ottoman sultans, we saw the collection of priceless gifts received from European emperors–jewelery, thrones, weapons, and solid gold candlesticks. We also heard about ways of the Sultans: killing their brothers upon ascension, keeping a harem of eligible bachelorettes, training orphaned slaves to become their trusted advisers, and secretly listening in on parliamentary meetings (ringing a gong out of nowhere to adjourn its meetings when decisions displeased him).

The public square between Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque is among the most beautiful and moving places I have ever been. Standing between two monumental houses of worship, surrounded by crepe myrtles, recognizing that people have been walking the same streets for hundreds of years–it makes me feel like part of the world. While Hagia Sophia is now purely a museum, the Blue Mosque is still in service and the call to prayer rings out from its tinny loudspeakers five times a day.

Hagia Sophia

Hagia Sophia Interior

Sultan Ahmed Mosque, aka The Blue Mosque

At both the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar the richness of the offerings is amazing. Endless variations on hanging lamps, rugs, and pottery, piles of colorful and aromatic spices and tea.

Bright Lights at the Grand Bazaar

Mountains of Flavor at the Spice Bazaar

We were also lucky enough to meet up with my friend Ercan (a fellow student at our Spanish school in Buenos Aires) who lives in Istanbul. He took us out to the Taksim Square district where we had excellent Ottoman cuisine for dinner and watched a football match featuring local obsession Galatasaray on the terrace of a 4-story bar.

In between all the sites, we made stops for kebabs, hummus, diesel-strength Turkish coffee, a hookah pipe, Turkish Delight, and tiny cups of tea. I feel like there is still much more to see in Istanbul, and plenty of things to enjoy seeing again, so I am happy that I will be returning for another visit in September.

Turkish Delight

Afternoon Tea

Posted in Romania - Bucharest & Transylvania, Turkey - Istanbul | Comments Off

Hungary – Budapest

Posted on August 13, 2013 by Michael Tucker

While Budapest has many outstanding attributes in common with its sister European capitals–central river, old church, prestigious museum, preserved castle/palace, pretty legislative building–it has one advantage over all of them: it is beautiful at night. Its landmark buildings and bridges are illuminated in a flattering way that makes them even more attractive than under sunlight. Credit to their city planners and architects for adding this lovely dimension to the city’s appearance.

Parliament Building

Chain Bridge

Vörösmarty Square

The other thing that has impressed me about the city is the quality of its landscaping, in particular, the flowers. Even in the middle of a hot month of August, there were cheerful and colorful varieties in bloom.

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I am staying on the “Buda” side of the river, which appears to be quieter and less commercially-developed than the “Pest” side. The Buda side has hills on which reside some interesting places to climb up to. For instance, I made the short hike up Gellért Hill to see the city’s Citadel. While the Citadel itself is not much to see, there is a beautiful park behind it and nice views of the city. The hill itself has an interesting back-story; it was named after St. Gellért who was rolled down the hill in a barrel by pagan leaders who rejected his efforts at conversion.

Stairway to the Citadel, with statue of St. Gellért

Park behind the Citadel

Also on the Buda side are the Buda castle and Fisherman’s Bastion, each more notable for their views of the city below than for anything you can actually do there. Fisherman’s Bastion is the site of Matthias Church, which has a distinct and impressive patterned-tile roof.

View from Buda Castle

St. Matthias Church at Fisherman’s Bastion

I did a little shopping (really more wandering) at the Great Market Hall. Having experienced the awesome markets in London, Paris, and Budapest, I find them highly superior to supermarkets. Even Whole Foods and Central Market–while nice substitutes–do not fully live up to the level of quality, variety, and fun.

Great Market Hall

Budapest has the good fortune of having thermal medicinal springs flowing from Gellért Hill. Many bath houses have been built in which to take advantage of their relaxing and therapeutic qualities. I visited the Gellért Baths, which has several pools fed by the nearby springs, plus a couple of swimming pools and dry and steam saunas. It was a great way to spend a cool and rainy morning.

Gellért Hotel and Baths

On my last day in town I took an Alternative Budapest Tour, which focuses on the 7th district–the area currently evolving from its past as a Jewish ghetto during German occupation to its present of street art and abandoned buildings converted to design studios and hip ruin pubs. It was the first time I had been to that part of the city and the first time I felt a connection to Budapest and understood a little about local lifestyle. Next time I’m in town, this is where I’ll look to stay.

Mural brightening a small park in Budapest’s 7th district

Szimpla Kert ruin pub

While the Brazilian Real is the most beautiful national currency I have seen so far on this trip, the Hungarian Forint easily takes the prize for most intimidating facial hair. I would not mess with any of these dudes, nor would I attempt to eat a bagel with cream cheese if I had any of their mustaches.

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Czech Republic – Prague & Beyond

Posted on August 6, 2013 by Michael Tucker

On the way from the Prague airport, my taxi driver asked what I knew about the Czech Republic. Embarrassingly little, as it turned out. Next time I am asked, I’ll give the correct answer: castles, silver, crystal, an empire formerly known as Bohemia and Moravia, beer, kolaches, polka, and the Hapsburg dynasty. It has been a fun and busy week here, mainly because my friend Martina (a classmate in my Spanish classes in Buenos Aires) has generously planned and taken me on some awesome sightseeing outings in Prague and other parts of the country.

With Martina in Cesky Krumlov

The Czech Republic still has many castles remaining from the days when it was called Bohemia and ruled by the Hapsburgs. Martina and I took a trip to visit Hluboká Castle in southern Bohemia. This is a fairy tale castle–square white stone with tall round towers. It is beautiful on the inside as well, decorated with wood carvings on the walls and ceilings and spectacular crystal chandeliers.

Hluboká Castle

After the castle, we went further south to the village of Cesky Krumlov. It has a chateau with grand gardens high on a hill, and a small river that winds around the town center.

Cesky Krumlov

Martina and I also visited two eerie sites in Kutna Hora, east of Prague. First, the Sedlec Ossuary, a Roman cathedral-turned-mausoleum in which the bones of 40,000 deceased are stacked neatly in pyramids in the corners…and hung from the ceiling and walls in decorative patterns (a hobby of one of the resident monks centuries ago).

Sedlec Ossuary

After that, we donned hard hats to descend 150 meters into a former silver mine. We twisted and ducked through the dark, dripping, narrow tunnels and heard tales of how the miners used lamps fueled by sheep’s fat which they carried in their pockets. Makes a cubicle seem downright plush.

Silver Mine in Kutna Hora

In Prague, I have seen several of the city’s historical sites–the ancient Prague Castle and St. Vittus Cathedral, the Charles Bridge, the Old Town Square, and the city’s original fortress walls. I also visited the Museum of Czech Music (waltz and polka!) and drank Pilsner Urquell at the traditional pub U Pinkasů.

Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral

View of Charles Bridge from Petřín Lookout Tower

The bone church and silver mine were not the only frightening experiences of the week. When I came to the KGB Museum in Prague I wasn’t expecting a guided tour, and I certainly hadn’t imagined what the perfect tour guide might be. But there he was–facial scar, thick Russian accent, unnerving habit of looking suspiciously at the door, and encyclopedic knowledge of weapons. I presume he is the owner of the museum and curated its exhibit items himself–and that the best stuff is actually hidden under some trap door in his house. Ex-member? Wannabe? Impossible to guess, impossible to ask. His demonstration of hand-to-hand combat moves holding an axe in each hand was both graceful and terrifying. Now for my contribution to the NSA database, here is a picture of me holding one of the many guns our guide handed to us and wearing one of the many hats he had us try on.

KGB Museum

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Paris – Voilà

Posted on July 30, 2013 by Michael Tucker

On Sunday the riders in the Tour de France were making the final leg of the race, from Versailles to Paris. I joined the welcoming committee at the Tuileries and watched the peloton pass a few times as it completed the 10 laps between the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe that mark the end of the race. Then I walked up the Champs-Élysées to listen to the broadcast of the closing ceremony and watch the light show projected on the Arc de Triomphe. The riders go so fast and stay so close together; it’s an astounding level of control.

The peloton flies by

L’Arc de Triomphe, lit yellow to celebrate the completion of the 100th Tour de France

In the late summer (just for fun), Paris sets up man-made beaches along the banks of the Seine complete with sand, reclining chairs, umbrellas, and the requisite ice cream and beverage vendors. No car traffic is allowed on the adjacent street, so people bring their kids and their dogs and camp out for picnics or just lounging around. I joined them one sunny afternoon and found a nice spot under an umbrella right along the riverside. It’s a pretty cool civic perk during a time when many residents prefer to leave the city for their vacations.

Paris Plages

The Rodin museum is one I remembered well from my first visit to Paris many years ago. It is set in an 18th-century mansion with creaky wooden floors and a large outdoor garden. While I’m still a novice at art appreciation (even after so many European museums), Rodin is one of my favorites. It was good to see his classics are still holding up and attracting new fans.

The Thinker

Since it is my last week here, I’ve been doing a lot of walking around and stealing looks at Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower from various vantage points. It’s nice having them jump out as you turn corners or cross bridges just to remind you–“you’re in Paris!”

Eiffel Tower, all-time finalist for best places to take a date

Eiffel Tower illuminating the sky

Notre-Dame

Notre-Dame by night

Locks on the bridge behind Notre-Dame, pledging lasting love

Locks on the bridge behind Notre-Dame, pledges of lasting love

I learned the French government monitors the consumption of baguettes per capita and makes stimulus efforts when it decreases; also, it offers tax incentives to companies for providing lunch stipends so as to maintain the thriving cafe culture. It shows how the French take such pride in being French. Perhaps it will help help Paris remain Paris for a very long time. That would be a good thing.

View from my apartment window

L’Arc de Triomphe

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Paris – Immobilized by Feasting

Posted on July 22, 2013 by Michael Tucker

When my brother sent his proposals for the week he would join me in Paris, they fell under two headings: 1. Places to Eat and 2. Things to Do (with the latter list being about half the length of the former). Thus, the agenda was set for a week in which we would red-line the “calorimeter” to the point that I am now using a new belt notch.

David on Île de la Cité

More than any culture of which I am aware, the French take seriously the art of cuisine and the experience of dining. From the creativity and complexity of the food, to the existential importance the waiters confer upon your order–“Have you made your choice?”–to the sheer amount of time required to complete a 3-course dinner, it really demonstrates commitment. And bless them for it, they really have made a contribution to the world. Below are a few highlights from our culinary Tour de France.

Salad finally reaching its full potential

When we entered this menu item’s name, Google translate returned “knives”. When I asked what it was, our English-speaking waiter said “knives”. I’ll have the knives, please.

Ridiculously-perfect-in-texture tuna

Vegetables that taste good!

Delicate fish filet

Pureed eggplant with fried eggs, smoked potatoes, duck with gravy jello, melon with prosciutto

Langoustine tail

Cheesecake, celery sorbet, berries

Tapas-style dessert: hazelnut pudding, lemon custard, chocolate tart, raspberries with herb sorbet

Charcuterie platter – 6 meats, 6 cheeses

Reasons why I am having a hard time standing up at the end of dinner: (a) the weight of the food I consumed has shifted my center of gravity, (b) my legs are asleep from sitting in place for three hours, (c) I can only back my chair out six inches because the next table is so close, (d) the wine fairy.

Poached apples. Sliced honeycomb. Crepes with strawberry compote. Chocolate-filled pastries. Cheeses. A difficult dessert decision? Nope, just a partial list of what we had for breakfast on Wednesday.

It doesn’t count as dessert when it’s breakfast, right?

Even the zoo animals in Paris expect a chef-prepared lunch. I imagine that the D students at the culinary academies are obliged to take these jobs, hoping to find a creative way to spin them in their resumes.

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On Sunday David and I met one of his friends for dinner and afterward the three of us headed over to the Eiffel Tower to split a bottle of Côte du Rhone and watch the Bastille Day fireworks. We also visited a couple of great art exhibits this week–Simon Hantaï at Centre Pompidou and Marc Chagall at Musée du Luxembourg–and Paris’s lovely gardens, Le Jardin de Plants, Luxembourg Gardens, and the Tuileries.

The Eiffel Tower in full sparkle mode

Centre Pompidou, museum of contemporary art

Luxembourg Gardens

We even took a road trip down to Marseille in the South of France where we hit the beach, walked around the yacht-filled port, and visited the art exhibits set up in honor of the city’s selection as a European Cultural Capital for 2013.

Port of Marseille

Marseille waterfront with Museum of Mediterranean Culture and Marseille Cathedral

The Marseille beach

When your day begins on a beach on the Mediterranean Sea and ends with a 9-course dinner in Paris, you have to take a moment to reflect on how fortunate you are. Then you have to wonder whether it would be cool to rhyme Marseille with Beaujolais or cheese soufflé because it seems like something Jay-Z should be rapping about. But then you re-focus and really appreciate that you have had a very, very good week.

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