Baking project! Tawn's aunt had her 70-somethingth birthday celebration today so even though I was not going to attend, I helped prepare two dozen cupcakes. Tawn prepared brownies, too, but since he made those, not I, they aren't covered in this entry.
The recipe for the cupcakes came from the Magnolia Bakery's "More from Magnolia" cookbook. The Magnolia Bakery is a well-known spot in New York's West Village, popularized in the TV show "Sex and the City" as it is just around the corner from Carrie Bradshaw's fictional apartment.
We visited Magnolia Bakery last March and I have to say that while their cupcakes are tasty, they aren't anything special. Nonetheless, this was the cookbook we had at hand.
The recipe we used was for their Vanilla Cupcakes. Instead of self-rising flour, I used a substitute of cake flour, baking powder, and just a little salt. The recipe is easy enough to use, made all the easier if you have a stand mixer.
You may notice that I have five eggs in the bowl but the recipe calls for just four. I was on the fence because the eggs look smaller to me than the standard "large" egg. The sizes were also inconsistent. Ultimately, though, I stuck with four eggs and placed the extra one back in the refrigerator.
This project wasn't really about taking pictures and writing, though. It was about filming and editing a really cool video and, in all modesty, I think this one is one of my best. I hope you enjoy it.
The end products, which were tasty and very pretty in a pastel sort of way. If I had it to do again, I would sift my powdered sugar for the buttercream frosting as it ended up just a wee bit gritty. Other than that, though, no complaints.
Neither Tawn nor I are big drinkers. That said, we do enjoy an occasional drink, be it a glass of wine with dinner or a cocktail. My personal favorite (and one Tawn quite enjoys, too) is an apéritif, preferably made with Campari. An apéritif is a drink enjoyed before dinner, with properties designed to stimulate the appetite. There is nothing finer to accompany the transition from a busy day to a relaxing meal, in my opinion.
My apéritif of choice is Campari, a bitter infusion of herbs and fruits (including chinotto, a bitter Italian citrus) in alcohol. The bitter-sweet flavor appeals to me and it has an almost poetic fit to the role it plays in being a bridge between the periods of my day, as I go from the "bitter" of a full day working to the "sweet" of an evening spent in the company of those I care about over a meal.
Perhaps I am overly sentimental. Maybe it is just the sexy ruby red color that I enjoy so much. In any case, 2010 marked Campari's 150th birthday, an occasion I managed to only just recently learn about. I discovered this milestone when I pulled out a new bottle of the bitters and noticed that the normal label was replaced by a special one.
It turns out, Campari Group commissioned three celebratory labels:
The three labels are different but complementary and together they describe the various facets of the universe of Campari. (From left to right, as described by the Campari press release.)
Tobias Rehberger's neo-rationalist world comes to life by means of digital design. His Campari label is built around the concept of a “magic potion", a “bewitched beverage” emphasized by the bright colors employed in his art work. His work is abstract and is open to various interpretations, like Campari.
Vanessa Beecroft, the well-known artist celebrated for her performances and her watercolors, expressed her own art for Campari focusing on the female image, coherent with her art vocation that uses women’s prototypes to project the artist’s own image. She imagined an ethereal female character wrapped in a fantastic head of hair, red, like the glass of Campari she is holding.
avaf, an art collective who label themselves as “nomads”, presents an extravagant and cross-bred artwork, a typical example of their style. Their interpretation translated into a strong and independent female image, a cross-breed between the jazz singer Nina Simone and the Egyptian queen Nefertiti.
There are many ways to enjoy Campari. My favorite pre-dinner drink is an Americano, so named because it was especially popular with American tourists to Milan, Italy during Prohibition. The Americano is 1 ounce of Campari, 1 ounce of sweet vermouth, topped off with soda water and a twist of lemon (or, my preference, an orange slice.)
Finally, to leave you with a twist (to go with your Negroni, Americano, Campari and soda, or just plain tap water), here's a Campari commercial from early 2005 titled "The Secret". Created by D'Adda Lorenzini Vigorelli BBDO in Milano, Italy, and produced by Radical.Media, this clever and stylish ad was a finalist for the 2005 Epica Awards, Europe's premier creative awards. I hope you enjoy it!
With the start of a new congressional season, a proposal has been made by Senator Mark Udall (D-CO) to change the rules about how the filibuster can be used in the Senate. Over the past fifty years there has been a gradual increase in the use of filibusters to bring legislative progress to a halt. Filibuster use (as represented in the chart below showing the frequency of cloture votes to end a filibuster) has skyrocketed in the past decade.
The Senate's history as a calmer, more deliberative body than the House of Representatives is an important one to preserve, but filibusters have become more of a stalling tactic than a deliberative one and instead of protecting the interests of the minority, serve instead of hijack the interests of the majority to accomplish what they were elected to do: legislate.
Doing my duty as an actively engaged citizen, I emailed my senators to let them know I am in favor of the proposed changes.
One, Pat Roberts (R-KS), responded with a virtual filibuster. His email response explained that as a member of the Senate Rules Committee, he held hearings on this topic last year and is not in favor of any changes. "My statements are available on the committee's website," he wrote. On that page I found the link to download the 666-page Publication on the Filibuster Hearings Series.
I'm glad Senator Roberts feels that the clearest and most effective way to summarize his objections to changing the Senate rules is to direct me to a 666-page document. And one wonders why so few Americans participate actively in civic life.
New York is a city that holds a special place in the imagination of many people around the world. So it is no surprise to see the mystique of New York used to sell everything from condos to makeup here in Bangkok. The most recent addition to this "Big Appleing" of Bangkok is a small restaurant at the Crystal Design Center: NYCC - New York City Cheesecake.
Located in a rapidly expanding strip mall in the suburban outskirts on the northeast flank of the city, NYCC claims to offer a real taste of New York with not only authentic New York style cheesecakes but also pastrami sandwiches. Being a lover of pastrami, I had to go out and try this for myself.
The restaurant is really more of a shack or hut, located between other buildings at the Crystal Design Center. CDC is a design-oriented strip mall located on Ram Intra Road, an already overcrowded road that extends from Ekkamai Road out to the suburbs. Despite the overcrowding, the past five years have seen an explosion of businesses and housing this direction. Perhaps the good news is that with these new shopping centers on the periphery of Bangkok, the traffic on the streets in the core of the city will not get any worse.
The interior of NYCC looks more like a noodle shop with stools and small tables. It isn't much of a surprise then to learn that NYCC has a sister shop behind it that sells - wait for it - noodles. Framed posters of Broadway shows lines the windows and various New York theme tchotchkes sit for sale on a side shelf. The friendly staff take the orders and deliver the foods. On a weekday afternoon around lunchtime, the place was not very busy.
NYCC's motto is "cheese will never cease" - I'm not sure what that means. For some reason, it makes me think of an alternative definition of the word "cheese".
After a few minutes longer than I thought it would take, our sandwiches arrived. I ordered the pastrami and Tawn ordered the chicken club. The sandwiches are monsters, shooting for the "mile high" measurements for which New York deli sandwiches are know. Let's take a closer look at what we really have, though, from the toothpick down:
The bread was actually pretty good, although it would have been a bit nicer lightly toasted. It wasn't a nice dark rye but was slightly more substantive than the wonder that passes for bread all too often here in Bangkok.
In the middle, which is where most of the bulk is in this sandwich, is a stack of two types of lettuce, a stack of raw onion, and a stack of tomatoes. The problem here (other than whether or not there should be any vegetables on a pastrami sandwich) is that everything is stacked, so you get a lot of onions in one bite, for example, and no onions in another bite.
At the bottom is the pastrami. I'll give them credit for tasty pastrami, albeit sliced a little thicker than I like. It was tender and smoky. There was also not much of it, especially when compared with the bread and vegetables. As for the sauce, the sandwich was over-sauced - which is not unusual here in Thailand, with brown mustard (nice) and Thousand Island (wrong - this isn't a Reuben).
How to rate it overall? Well, for a sandwich that carried a price tag around 340 baht (about $11.40), it was mighty short on meat and might high on everything else... except a pickle, which would have been a nice touch. Now, I'm not a New York, just a frequent visitor. But from what I know of New York pastrami sandwiches, this is what my expectation looked like:
This is a pastrami sandwich from the Carnegie Deli. We can debate which deli is the best, but in my mind, this is a good example of what a pastrami sandwich should be. Lots and lots of pastrami with little or nothing else between the bread. Now, I understand that beef is expensive here and I'm not opposed to paying a good price for something that approximates a real New York style pastrami sandwich. But if I'm going to pay that much money, let's lose the salad, add a little more meat, and put the sauce on the side.
As for Tawn's chicken club, it was a similar tower of salad but had a very substantial amount a chicken at the base - probably two breasts' worth. The meat was bland and instead of being thinly sliced was more slab-like. It was about 250 baht and, from Tawn's perspective, overpriced.
As for the eponymous cheesecake, a recent dining companion (at another meal) told me she thinks the cheesecakes are flown in from the Cheesecake Factory in the United States. I don't think that's the case, but the potion sizes are enough to make you believe it!
We ordered a slice of regular cheesecake with strawberry topping, more than ample for two (or four!) to share. I'll give them credit for making a pretty passable New York style cheesecake. The consistency is smooth, solid but not too dense, and nicely flavored. It had obviously been frozen previously as the center of the slice was still icy - a faux pas when service cheesecake - but it was better than a lot of the overly airy cheesecake I've had in Bangkok.
We ended up with a bill of about 850 baht for two sandwiches, one slice of cheesecake, and two bottles of water. For Bangkok, that's a pretty pricey meal, especially for a lunch. It was fun to try and NYCC had some things going for it, but not so many that I'd be easily tempted to make the trek out Ram Intra. Instead, I'll just save my pastrami cravings for my new trip back to the real New York.
This afternoon I had to go to a photo shoot. I've been invited to publish some of my entries from this blog on another site, one that is Thailand-specific. To keep a consistent look and feel, the editor asked me to stop by the office and have their photographer shoot a new head shot for my profile. No worries - I'm not going anywhere, just broadening my audience.
On the way home, I noticed that we were in for a gorgeous sunset. The weather has been cool thanks to a system dropping in from China and the breeze, which had been strong the past few days, was very calm today leading to hazy but cloud-free skies. I stopped by Benjakiti Park next to Queen Sirikit Convention Center and shot this picture. It was a beautiful sunset.
Every time I have to make as mundane a choice as what type of toothpaste I should buy, I'm overwhelmed and momentarily freeze with panic. Even in Thailand, my local grocery store or Tesco Lotus has at least a few dozen different combinations of brands, flavors, and types of toothpaste. Citrus, citrus-herb, salt-herb, mint, cool mint, bright mint, gel, paste, fluoride, whitening, stain-removal, super-whitening, etc. The mind spins at such options.
You can imagine my fascination then to listen to a talk by Sheena Iyengar at a TED conference about the art of choosing and cultural bias in beliefs about choice. Ms. Iyengar is a professor at Columbia Business School whose research focuses on choice and how people choose.
In her speech, she examines a trio of American assumptions about choice and discusses studies she has done in various parts countries comparing different cultural reactions to these assumptions. The assumptions are:
Make your own choices.
More options lead to better choices.
Never say "no" to choice.
I'm embedding the speech here, which is worth the 22 minutes of your time it will take to watch. But for those of you who cannot watch the video or do not wish to take the time, I'll summarize her observations. My own conclusions are all the way at the bottom.
Assumption 1: It is best to make your own choices
If a choice affects you, then you should be the one to make it. This is captured in the American concept of "being true to yourself." Ms. Iyengar and a colleague performed studies to test this assumption.
In one study, she brought 7 to 9 year old Anglo-American and first generation Asian-Americans into the laboratory, dividing them into groups. The first group was given a choice of six sets of word puzzles to complete and also a choice in the color of pen with which to complete the puzzles. The second group was show the same six sets, but "Ms. Smith" told them which set they would perform and which pen color they would use. The third group was shown the same six sets, but Ms. Smith told them their mothers had chosen which puzzles and color of markers they would use. In reality, the second and third groups performed the same set of puzzles and used the same pen color the first group had chosen.
The results differed markedly depending on how the activity was administered. Anglo-American children in the first group completed two and a half times as many word puzzles as in the second and third groups. It didn't matter who did the choosing - Ms. Smith or their mother - if their task was chosen by another person, their performance suffered. In contrast, Asian-American children performed best when they believed the task had been chosen by their mother, second best when they chose for themselves, and worst when Ms. Smith chose their task and pen color.
Ms. Iyengar's conclusion is that the first-generation Asian-American children were strongly influenced by their immigrant parents' approach to choice. Choice was not just a way of defining and asserting themselves, it was also a way to create community by deferring to the choices of those whom they trusted and respected. The assumption that we do best when the individual self chooses, only holds when that "self" is clearly divided from others. If the individuals see their choices as intimately connected, they may amplify one-another's success by turning choosing into a collective act.
"People who have grown up in [the American paradigm of choice] might find it motivating." notes Ms. Iyengar. "But it is a mistake to assume that everyone thrives under the pressure of choosing alone."
Assumption 2: More options lead to better choices
Ms. Iyengar traveled to locations in Eastern Europe where people had had to adjust to the transition from a communist to capitalist society. She discovered that many of the perceptions Americans have of choice are often trivial (my choices of toothpaste, for example). She stumbled upon this when offering interview subjects a choice of beverages before the interview - seven different types of soda - only to discover that to the interview subjects, she wasn't offering seven different options but only one: soda. If she offered juice, water, and the seven brands of soda and she asked how many choices they had, they uniformly identified three choices.
Americans have been conditioned to see each of these little choices as significant and as a representation of who we are. "Coke or Pepsi?" becomes a lifestyle and identification choice rather than a meaningful distinction between beverages. A Polish interview subject summed it up well when saying that he didn't need the choice of twenty different types of chewing gum. "I don't mean to say I want to have no choice," he said, "but many of these choices are very artificial."
"The value of choice," notes Ms. Iyengar, "lies in our ability to see the differences between the options. Americans train their whole lives to play 'spot the difference.' ... Though all humans share a basic need and desire for choice, we don't all see choice in the same places or to the same extent."
Ultimately, too much choice can lead to "suffocation by meaningless minutiae." Ms. Iyengar has observed in her studies that when people are given more than ten choices, they generally make poorer choices. And yet many Americans believe they should make all their own choices and seek out more of them.
Which leads to the third assumption:
Assumption 3: Never say "no" to choice
Ms. Iyengar interviewed parents whose infants had developed cerebral anoxia (a loss of oxygen to the brain) and had to be placed on a ventilator. The decision had been made to remove the infant from the machine, letting it die within a few hours, instead of keeping the infant on the machine in a permanent vegetative state.
Ms. Iyengar interviewed parents in France and in the United States in the months following their infant's removal from the life support machine and subsequent death. The difference was that in France, the decision to remove life support had been made by doctors whereas in the United States, the parents made the final decision.
Ms. Iyengar wondered whether this decision affected the way the parents coped with the loss of their infant. Ms. Iyengar and her researchers found that it did. Even up to a year after the loss, approximately 90% of American parents were expressing negative emotions about the event compared to only about 67%* of French parents. French parents' comments were characterized by statements like, "He was here for so little time, yet he taught us so much." American parents were characterized by statements like, "I feel like they tortured me; how did they expect me to make that choice?"
Yet, when American parents were asked if they would rather have had the doctor made the decision, they said no. Some 75% of them couldn't imagine turning that choice over to someone else, despite the negative repercussions of having had to make that choice themselves. Among French parents, only about 33% of them indicated they would rather have made the choice instead of the doctor.
*I'm estimating percentages based on the graphs. In her speech, Ms. Iyengar doesn't provide specific numbers.
Ms. Iyengar concludes:
"The story Americans tell, the story upon which the American dream depends, is the story of limitless choice. This narrative promises so much: freedom, happiness, success. It lays the world at your feet and says, 'you can have anything, everything.' It's a great story and it's understandable why they would be reluctant to revise it. But when you take a close look, you start to see the holes and you start to see that the story can be told in many other ways.
"Americans have so often tried to disseminate their ideas of choice, believing that they will be, or ought to be, welcomed with open hearts and open minds. But the history books and the daily news tell us, it doesn't always work out that way. The ... actual experience that we try to organize and understand through narrative, varies from place to place. No single narrative serves the needs of everyone, everywhere. Moreover, Americans themselves could benefit from incorporating new perspectives into their own narrative, which has been driving their choices for so long."
For me, this speech was thought-provoking, a reminder of something I know experientially to be true but which slips to the back of my mind all too often: There is no single right way of looking at the world. Our values and frame of reference through which we see the world are tremendously dependent upon our culture, background, experiences, and upbringing.
The fact there is no single right way is the source of so much conflict and miscommunication in the world. If we really want to understand other people in this world, we have to check our assumptions and be prepared to see the world in radically different ways.
As our Nissan Cefiro passes eleven years old, Tawn and I keep thinking about a replacement car. In his mind, the perfect car would be something unique and stylish, maybe a classic instead of a new model. A few Sundays back, he announced that he wanted to visit a used car dealer on Vibhawadi Road near the old Don Meuang Airport as he had spotted a cute car there and wanted to know what it was. Turns out, it was a Nissan Figaro.
The Figaro was a limited-edition retro car released by Nissan in 1989 only in Japan. Some 20,000 were made. It was built by Nissan's special projects group known as the Pike Factory. The car is a popular one for collectors, especially in the UK.
The used car dealer had a half-dozen units in stock. They specialize in importing classic cars and refurbishing them for resale. They choose only low mileage (about 55,000 km on average, about 35,000 miles) cars that have never been in accidents.
The cars are then completely gutted and rebuilt. Engines, air conditioning, and all other systems are thoroughly overhauled and the interior is reupholstered. They are very thorough and invited us to walk through their garage so we could see the work in progress.
The result is spectacular, lovingly restored. Before I went back and did some research, I didn't understand that the car was actually 21 years old and thought it was a more recent model intentionally made extremely retro.
It turns out that the design of the Figaro echoes the Datsun Fairlady from the early 1960s. Beautiful car in the sporty color scheme, isn't it? (Picture from Wikipedia)
Ventilation system (including air conditioning) is appropriately retro and refreshingly manual. Nice to have actual levers rather than buttons.
The stereo system (notice the cracked laminate on the dials) features a CD player, something that was quite cutting edge in 1989. And a cassette player for you cats who aren't up to date with the latest technology! Sorry, no MP3 input.
The Figaro was also an open roof style convertible. Completely and utterly impractical in Thailand but really cute and the best way for me to sit up straight in the driver's seat.
The car was originally offered in just four colors - Topaz Mist, Emerald Green, Pale Aqua, and Lapis Grey - but the restorers offer a few additional colors including the pink you see here.
My assessment of the car? Well, totally and utterly impractical but very, very cute. If we wanted a second car to drive for weekend getaways at the beach, this would be it. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be any room for a suitcase or overnight bag, but we could drive to the beach and then drive back the next day wearing the same clothes.
So how much for this beauty of a rebuild? 900,000 baht (US$30,000) for a 21-year old car. Now, cars in Thailand are more expensive than in the US, but to give you a bit of a comparison, I could buy a top of the line Nissan March, a contemporary (and larger) version of this car, for less than 570,000 baht. And I think the March is a cute car, too.
So I guess we'll put this on the "Sunday afternoon daydream" list!
The dealer is also restoring a Nissan S-Cargo, another 1989 release from Nissan's Pike Factory. Inspired by the French Citroën 2CV camionette (small truck), the name was a double entendre meaning both "small cargo" and "escargot". Clever, huh?
The dealer also has one more product from the Pike Factory: the Nissan Pao. Released at the same time as the Figaro and S-Cargo, the Pao was also retro-inspired and had amazing fuel economy: 51 mpg (5.5 L/100 km) in the city and 79 mpg (3.4 L/100 km). Prius-like mileage almost two decades before the Prius.
Reflecting on the shooting of Representative Gabrielle Giffords (D-AZ) and eighteen other people on Saturday morning in Tucson, Arizona, an attack that appears to have political motivations, I'm concerned that not only is the political discourse in the United States growing increasingly shrill, but that in the past several years it has also become increasingly violent.
Threats of violence as well as cases of vandalism and assault have become more frequent, especially in the wake of significant legislative battles such as those over health care reform. Sadly, we can look at some talking heads in the media, commentators whose motivations are rating (and thus, earning) driven more so than purely ideological, as well as politicians who stir the pot (Sarah "lock and load" Palin) to see who fans the flames of political passion.
There is nothing wrong with passion in politics. It speaks to a robustness in our society. But that robustness unravels when disagreement can no longer be had with civility. All of us, regardless of our political stripes and partisan beliefs, need to condemn politically-motivated violence.
To that end, we need to remove the rhetoric of patriotism and Americanism from our vocabulary. While we may be at odds about the role of our government and the best way to address various problems in society, none of us is more or less patriotic or American than the others.
Addendum January 14: While we don't know the motivations of Representative Gifford's shooter, whether they were political or not, I still stand by my statement that we need to condemn politically-motivated violence and bring the level of rhetoric down, especially casting others as unpatriotic.
The other night, I had an odd dream. I was at a restaurant. While I couldn't identify which restaurant it was, I somehow knew that it was my friend's restaurant and he or she was short-staffed so I offered to help. In what felt like a several-hour shift, I ran around taking orders, serving food, and clearing tables - although since I have no prior experience working in a restaurant I kept making mistakes that caused trouble that exceeded the amount of help I provided.
If I'm not mistaken, the dream was near the end of my night's sleep. When I awoke, I was exhausted as if I had been working all night long. Weird, huh?
Before doing a final back-up of my November 2010 photos and videos and removing them from my laptop's hard drive, I realized I had an unfinished project from my most recent trip to Hong Kong. I was in the Tsim Sha Tsui MTR station on a Friday evening during rush hour and shot some video of the mass of humanity.
At the same time, I had just completed the third season of the Glenn Close TV show "Damages" and they have an interesting effect in the title sequence that I wanted to try to recreate: they show a crowded intersection in New York in fast-motion and then suddenly cut the clip to slow-motion. (If you want to see the original, a link to it is here. The shot I'm talking about lasts all of one second and takes place at about 0:08.)
As an homage to my inspiration, I "borrowed" the same title song, "When I Am Through With You" by The V.L.A. It is an energetic, guitar-driven song which I crudely edited to just over one minute. I hope you enjoy it.
I've been making an effort to post on a daily basis. Right now I have a backlog of several entries and am trying to work through them.
Okay, since I did a long, thoughtful, political analysis as yesterday's post, I just need to write about something fun and easy: lunch. Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy Japanese food? It's healthy, balanced, attentively prepared, and artfully presented.
Japanese make up our largest group of foreigners living here in Thailand, which isn't so surprising when you trace history back to Japan's invasion (note: they didn't colonize, it was just an invasion!*) of Siam in World War II. They have had a close relationship ever since.
Because of the large presence of Japanese, we enjoy an abundance of good and affordable Japanese restaurants. The other day I stopped at one for this set lunch:
Working clockwise from the upper left: Katsu - pork loin breaded in Japanese-style breadcrumbs served with a salad of shredded cabbage and sesame dressing; a boiled egg custard (savory); stewed vegetables and chicken; another small salad; miso soup; pickled radish; steamed rice; and katsu dipping sauce in the center.
All this for 230 baht, about US$7.00. For Bangkok, that's a relatively pricey lunch but it was still a very good value in my eyes.
*As for the asterisk, the Thais are very proud that their country has never been colonized by a foreign power and this is drilled into young Thais' heads from the earliest age. Is it true? Well, you have to add some caveats: Significant portions of the Kingdom of Siam (as Thailand was formerly known) were ceded to foreign powers to avoid a war or potential colonization. Also, Japan occupied Siam during World War II, ostensibly at the "invitation" of its government. An invitation at the point of a sword, if you will. So if you set aside those exceptions, then Siam/Thailand has indeed never been colonized.
While waiting in a hotel lobby to meet a friend for lunch, I read a front-page article from USA Today: "Obama and America's Place in the World." The article talks about the way President Obama addresses questions of American exceptionalism and Republican attempts to capitalize on this in order to paint the President as un-American, without having to use those words.
American exceptionalism, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a belief that the country is unique and exceptional in comparison to other countries. Historically, it did not mean that America was better than other countries, but in the past few years the term has been coopted by those who would like to give that meaning to the phrase.
British writer G.K. Chesterton noted in a 1922 essay, "America is the only nation in the world that is founded on a creed. That creed is set forth with dogmatic and even theological lucidity in the Declaration of Independence..." The Declaration's introduction defines this ideology as liberty, egalitarianism, individualism, populism, and laissez-faire.
The ammunition used by those who believe that President Obama is un-American doesn't believe in American exceptionalism, is his response in April 2009 (his opponents have to go back twenty months to dig up dirt on him, it seems) to a question by a British journalist about whether America is uniquely qualified to lead the world:
"I believe in American exceptionalism, just as I suspect that the Brits believe in British exceptionalism and the Greeks believe in Greek exceptionalism."
This strikes me, a passport-holding American who has traveled widely and has spent more than five years living overseas, as a tremendously reasonable, level-headed statement.
What also strikes me, as an American who has seen the way many countries in the world are rapidly moving from "developing nation" to "developed nation" status, is that no amount of arguing how exceptional we are or aren't is going to help us compete in the 21st century.
Discussing the growth of China with a friend who recently spent two years working in Shanghai, he noted that in just the past few years, China has built the world's largest high-speed rail network (already some 4,600 miles), and they are on track to have as much as 16,000 miles built by 2020. Compare this to America's infrastructure, which the American Society of Civil Engineers currently grades as a "D" and will require more than $2 trillion to repair.
Is America exceptional? No doubt it is. But the issue isn't whether we are exceptional or not, it's whether we are willing to do the work necessary to remain exceptional in the century to come.
I think all of our mothers taught us that it is immodest to brag. We may well be the smartest kid in class (or at least want to think we are), but announcing it to our peers rather than spending our time studying for the next test is the surest way to become the schoolyard dummy. That's a form of exceptionalism, too, but not one that I suspect any of us want to bequeath to our future generations.
What say you?
Related to this: do you remember the bruhaha surrounding a photo of President Obama reading a copy of the very insightful book "The Post-American World?" Blog entry from September 2009 about it.
This is a story of innocence lost. It is also a story of hope.
Five years ago, when I moved to Thailand, Tawn’s father established a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy with regards to me. He acknowledges that I exist as a part of Tawn’s life, but he doesn’t want to know anything more about me and he doesn’t want me involved with his life. I’ve made my peace with that.
The story of hope is that while Tawn’s father isn’t warm and cuddly towards me, plenty of other members of his family have been. Over the eleven years we have been together, Tawn has introduced me to many of his relatives and I’m friends with what seems like half his cousins on Facebook. Of all these relatives, one family in particular – an aunt and uncle in Los Angeles and their three sons – have been particularly welcoming, ever since Tawn first brought me to dinner with them some eight or nine years ago.
I keep up with those cousins, their wives, and children (who are about the same age as my eldest niece) as regularly as I do the cousins on my side of the family. Especially with regards to the joys and challenges of parenting, I follow along, offer my support and encouragement, and laugh at the pearls of unvarnished truth that tumble out of their children’s mouths.
And that is where this is a story of innocence lost. One of these “first cousins once removed” is eight-year-old Jessica. She’s just a little too sharp for her own good and is ceasing to believe in the things that make childhood such a magical time.
On Sunday, Jessica lost a tooth. As her father tells it, before she went to bed she started questioning the existence of the Tooth Fairy. Last November when she lost a few teeth, she wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy asking for a photo of her. Thankfully, her father explains, the Tooth Fairy produced the evidence in a future visit.
When Jessica’s father went to look under her pillow Sunday night, he found this note asking the Tooth Fairy to sign her name in receipt of the tooth.
So while I get the joy of being a part of Tawn’s extended family, it seems that at least one of them is growing a bit cynical with age. And it isn’t Tawn’s father I’m talking about.
While connecting in Seattle last month on my way back to Bangkok, I did some shopping in the airport stores. Seattle-Tacoma International has a surprisingly good collection of shops for a US airport. While there, I decided to load up on specialties of the Pacific Northwest: cherries, smoked salmon, and gray salt caramels.
Seattle seems to be turning into a mecca for quality handcrafted chocolates. My friend was the part owner of a shop there and I've read countless articles about other artisanal chocolate makers in the region. Sadly, my friend's chocolate shop is now out of business, but that didn't stop me from picking up two boxes of these gray salt caramels in dark chocolate, made by Fran's Chocolates.
Salt caramels were the "it" confection in 2010, I think. Little delicate crystals of salt that contrast both in flavor and texture with the rich chewiness caramel inside. It is a lovely combination. I wonder what new combination will greet us this year?
This time of year, Bangkok is flooded with tourists from all around the globe. We see Indians in saris and Saudis in dishdasha, Germans in Alpine hiking gear, and Australians in inappropriately skimpy shorts. (Well, not just Australians!) Watching the kaleidoscope of humanity and fashions pass by can make for an entertaining afternoon. A few days ago, however, I had an "oh, my goodness" moment as I changed platforms at Siam Station.
A pair of Japanese men were descending the escalator behind me and out of the corner of my eye I thought one of the men was wearing pajama bottoms. It turns out they were just very colorful drawstring pants. While Tawn mentioned that drawstring pants are in fashion, I'm hard-pressed to think that this might be the combination that fashion prognosticators had in mind.
Regardless of what they thought, he's certainly more modestly dressed than some of our guests are, and so long as he's comfortable, that's the important thing.
What better way to start the new year (not to mention, what better first post to write) than to prepare some good food? While Tawn was away at his family's annual New Year's Eve party and didn't return home until ten minutes before midnight, I hosted a missionary friend from Chiang Mai and one of her friends who is visiting from the US.
Kari and Brandi were wonderful company and we spent almost four hours visiting and eating. For dinner, I prepared a simple meal that thankfully used up the last of the lasagna ingredients that I produced earlier in the week. Remind me next time not to double an already large batch of pasta and bolognese sauce!
To begin with some Thai style pumpkin soup. Made with homemade stock, this soup features tumeric, fresh ginger, and a little bit of coconut milk to add richness. Garnished with a few drops of garlic-chili oil, which was enough to give it a definite kick.
An interesting recent discovery, a vegetable called kanaeng in Thai. An American restaurateur friend calls these "baby cabbages" on his menu, but they are more akin to loosely wrapped Brussels sprouts. I followed his preparation, stir-frying them with garlic, soy sauce, and crispy pork.
Probably a little heavy on the crispy pork, but is anyone going to tell me you can really have too much pork? I think not! (Well, okay, Dr. Zakiah, Lalima, and a few others will, but that's for religious, not flavor reasons!)
The final dish of lasagna. I added a bit of meat and more tomatoes to the bolognese sauce to make for a richer, meatier dish. It worked out beautifully, except that the bubbling sauce burned on the handles making for unsightly presentation. The guests liked it enough to bring a few slices back to the mission house with them, though.
Homemade bread, a rye-wheat combination. Notice the faint lines running along the length of the loaf? Those are from a banneton. I'll write more about those soon.
Dessert was a chocolate chip and pecan bread pudding served with creme Anglaise sauce. Very tasty, although perhaps a touch rich after this filling meal. But why not end the year on a rich note with the hope that the new year will be equally rich and satisfying?
I hope your celebration was just as wonderful as mine.
Later in the week, Tawn and I had a second opportunity to visit with Jason and Daniel, taking them to see a Thai market. Wet markets (in other words, those that sell meat and produce) are often one of the best ways to get a really good look at the culture of a place you are visiting. We chose the modern, clean, and convenient to get to Marketing Organization for Farmers market, known by its Thai initials "Or Tor Gor".
Or Tor Gor market is located across the street from the Chatuchak ("JJ") Weekend Market, immediately outside exit 3 of the Kamphaeng Phet subway station and a short walk from the Mo Chit Skytrain station. It is open every day of the year and remains busy until the afternoon, so unlike some markets that are most active at the crack of dawn, you can catch a few winks and still see Or Tor Gor in action.
Here are some of the sights we saw:
There are loads of fruit and vegetable vendors, selling both locally grown and imported varieties. Even though it is a few months before the height of the mango season, many vendors had a large selection of fragrant "Flower Water" mangoes.
Dried fruit is an excellent way to bring a taste of your trip home with you. Here, Jason and Daniel consider the different offerings including mango (lighter yellow) and papaya (orange).
Curries are one of the staples of Thai cuisine, but even most Thais who cook at home will rarely go to the trouble to grind their own curry paste. (Although I would like to try and make my own curry paste one of these days.) Instead, they purchase freshly made curry paste from the local market, available in many varieties. Tell the vendor what kind of curry you want to make and she'll tell you what vegetables, herbs, and meats you need to buy and in what quantities.
This market also has a significant cooked food section so you can buy your meal here and when you return home all you have to do is make some rice. This vendor is selling curries. By my count, approximately twenty different types of curry! Some use the same type of curry paste but are varied by protein and whether or not they use coconut milk. If you've ever tried a "jungle curry" at your local Thai restaurant, that is a curry made without coconut milk.
Lots of snacky items available, too. Here, Tawn and Daniel discuss the different flavors of shrimp chips available for purchase. You can buy these cooked (as you see here) or in small uncooked discs that you fry in oil at home. I can't imagine the benefit of frying them yourself so much better to buy them precooked.
Thailand is home to inexpensive, high-quality seafood and Or Tor Gor market is a good place to buy it. Above is a tray of small crabs, the type which are brined then crushed and added to one variety of som tam - green papaya salad.
Fresh scallops are another plentiful item. When buying them in the US, I'm used to seeing only the white adductor muscle and not the attached roe. Here they are sold still in the shell with all the bits still attached.
Another popular sea food item is the giant river prawn. These beasts usually have a body about nine inches in length (not including the antennae) and are perfect for grilling. Here, a vendor stacks prawns for display.
Or Tor Gor market also has several flower vendors, including some who specialize in garlands. These hand-made flower arrangements are used for worship, placing them on Buddha statues and at shrines, as well as for honoring elders, guests, teachers, and other people of respect.
This type of garland is especially fragrant. It will last for several days and each evening the room will smell of jasmine.
Another prepared food vendor sells stir-fries and other dishes that are eaten with rice. Thus their Thai name, gap khao, which means "with rice". In the steamer in the foreground of the picture is an interesting dish called hor mok. It is made with a mixture of flaked fish and red curry, steamed in a leaf cup until it has a mousse like texture, then topped with some coconut cream. Tawn made this for me on one of his first trips to San Francisco after we met, making do with the ingredients he could find at the time.
For our breakfast (it was going on 11:00) we settled on four dishes with rice. From the lower right, clockwise: green curry with fish cake, bitter eggplant and basil; pork belly and boiled eggs in soy sauce; eggplant fried in ground pork and basil; and pumpkin served with scrambled egg. Very tasty.
Finally, after two days of trying we succeeded in getting a picture of the four of us together. This one was taken by a young lady who was sitting at the adjacent table waiting for her food to be delivered. Not only does it show you our handsome mugs but you can also get a good idea of what the market looks like with many of the prepared food vendors in the background.
Again, it was a pleasure to have the opportunity to finally meet Jason and Daniel in person and a treat to be able to spend some time with them while they were in town. Hopefully, the next time we meet it will be in Tokyo!
This time of year, when the weather is nasty further north in the hemisphere and the weather is more bearable down here near the equator, Tawn and I find ourselves with an endless stream of visitors. We were fortunate this week to have a pair of unexpected, but very welcome visitors: Jason and his husband Daniel. Jason and I have known each other for a number of years through Xanga but this is the first time we've met in person.
The first day we met, I spent several hours playing tour guide, taking them through the city on a few different modes of transportation and then on to the tourist sites of the Grand Palace and the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. This is something like the "Seven Modes of Transport" tour I did with some recent guests, but with some refinements. Here are some pictures we took along the way:
We began our multi-modal journey at the Art Deco style Hua Lamphong railway station, located on the edge of the old city. The misters along the roof were going full-blast, trying to cool down what was a sunny and warm day. Our journey through the city by rail was only twenty minutes long but it gave us a chance to view a different side of Bangkok life.
The train cars are not air conditioned and are older than any of the three of us. Here, Jason and Daniel wait for the train to pull out of the station.
At one of the stops along the way, I noticed these shoes, sheets, clothes, and chilies that were being dried in the sun. It reminds me of that long-lost Tennessee Williams play, "Chili on a Hot Tin Roof".
Some of what you see along the train tracks verges on squalor and sadness. This man was squatting barefoot on a wooden shack, a guitar at his side and a vacant expression in his eyes.
From the train we transferred to a canal taxi, racing through the polluted khlong to the end of the line, which is adjacent to the Golden Mount. From there we squeezed into a tuk tuk, a three-wheeled taxi, and weaved through the traffic to Thammasat University, located on the banks of the Chao Phraya River. A short walk down the street from the university was this hidden soi - an alley of antique shop houses that has been roofed in. It is well-ventilated and almost looks like something out of the French Quarter in New Orleans, minus the picture of His Majesty the King.
After lunch we walked a bit further down the street to the Grand Palace. Here are Daniel and Jason in front of a trio of buildings in Wat Phra Gaew, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. This is His Majesty's personal temple and is the only temple in Thailand that does not have monks' residences on site.
The three structures in the background are, from left to right, a Sri Lankan style chedi (or stupa) that contains relics of the Buddha; a Lanna (Northern Thai/Laotian kingdom) style library that houses Buddhist scriptures written on palm leaves; and a Khmer (Cambodian) style hall that contains statues of the eight previous kings in the Chakri dynasty. A rehabilitation of the last building was just completed in the previous few days and workers were taking down the last of the scaffolding.
The exterior of the Royal Chapel of the Emerald Buddha is decorated with a row of garuda - a mythical half-man, half-bird that holds in its claws a naga - the multi-headed serpent that sheltered Prince Siddhartha from the elements as he meditated for forty days before gaining enlightenment and becoming the Buddha. (Which means, "the enlightened one".)
I was trying to be artsy with this photo, taking a picture of the reflection of a wihan - a Buddha statue hall - in the mirrored mosaic tiles of the Chapel of the Emerald Buddha. My attempts to focus on the reflection failed but I think the result is still interesting.
A common theme that we observed, which I hadn't been aware of previously, is how much Chinese statuary there is on the grounds of the temple. This is a fine example of a traditional Chinese gate, carved in miniature, with the Buddhist scripture library in the background. Throughout the complex we saw warriors, pagodas, gates, lions, and other sculptures in the Chinese style.
Later in the afternoon we walked down the street to Wat Pho, the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. This temple is dotted with dozens of chedis large and small, which contain relics of various major and minor members of the royal family stretching back more than 200 years. I cropped this photo from a larger one as I thought it made for an interesting silhouette.
Sure enough, as is always the case, on the way there a half-dozen different people intercepted us and tried to tell us that the temple was closed. (It is open every day until at least 6:00 pm - actually, I think it is staying open until 9:00 pm these days.) This is a classic Bangkok scam. Do not trust strangers who approach you.
Daniel and Jason in front of the Reclining Buddha, which is 46 meters long and 15 meters high. In answer to a frequent question, the statue was built first and then the hall was built around it.
A popular activity is to donate 20 baht for a cup of small coins, and to drop them into a row of alms bowls, reciting a prayer or giving thanks for a specific blessing as you drop each coin. This picture of Daniel and Jason turned out very nicely, I think. Nice lighting and composition.
This temple is one that tourists tend to miss large portions of. They see the giant reclining Buddha statue and then depart. It is a very large temple, though, and has many areas well worth a look. As we wandered around the quieter portions of the temple, we came across a gardener who was trimming some bushes. His son was conked out nearby, taking a nap on the utility cart. How I wish I could sleep so easily!
After a warm afternoon touring we decided to bypass the long queue for the river taxi and instead hire our own long-tail boat. A little hard bargaining (and a willingness to walk away when my desired price wasn't met) resulted in the dock manager coming back to me as we sat drinking our water and finally accepting my price. What a nice way to catch a breeze and work our way downriver.
That evening Tawn joined as the four of us had dinner at Soul Food Mahanakorn. Of course we were so caught up in conversation that we forgot to take a picture together!
On the day after Christmas, my Thai teacher of the last four and a half years finally tied the knot. There's no doubt she's a patient person - continuing to tutor me after all these years is all the evidence of patience you would ever need - and her patience finally paid off as she married a handsome, decent, and loving man. Tawn and I were very honored to be invited to the ceremony and I thought I would share some of the photos with you.
Above, photos of Khru Kitiya ("Khru" means "teacher" in Thai) and her husband, Khun Por. It is common for Thai couples to go for professional wedding portraits weeks or months in advance of their wedding. These portraits are often elaborately staged in specialized studios, many of which are located in our neighborhood. The photos are then displayed at the wedding reception for guests to enjoy.
The wedding ceremonies were held at a facility on the north side of the city that is built in a traditional Thai style. This main building is part of a rooftop reception area with open-air pavilions on either side of the deck. Because it was a very bright day, although pleasantly breezy, most guests were hiding in the shade. Notice all the shoes of the guests who are inside the main building.
The day consisted of three distinct events, of which we took part in the second two. The first began at 7:30, when the monks arrived to conduct a traditional Buddhist ceremony, complete with chanting and the splashing of holy water. The families of the couple then feed the monks in order to make merit for the newlyweds.
The second event was the Rot Nam ("water pouring") ceremony. Family members and friends bless the groom and bride by pouring a small amount of water on their hands, which are held in a prayer-like position, while wishing them happiness in their marriage. You will notice that both the groom and bride are in more traditional outfits, symbolically joined by a string, and have additional blessing marks on their foreheads.
The third event was a Chinese style luncheon banquet, held downstairs from the pavilions. There were probably 200 guests and we enjoyed dish after dish of tasty food while listening to speeches by Phuu Yai ("big people", or guests of honor) and teasing by the two masters of ceremonies.
One special treat after the speeches was that Khun Por and Khru Kitiya performed a duet for the guests. Singing in front of a crowd is always a little scary but doing that on your wedding day just raises the stakes!
After the cake was cut, Khru Kitiya did something unconventional for a Thai wedding: she threw her bouquet to the crowd of unmarried women. This is something borrowed from American style weddings and I've never seen it at a Thai wedding before. Unfortunately, her aim was a bit wide and the bouquet ended up in the hands of a young lady, recently married and expecting her first child!
It was a very fun celebration and we were glad to have been invited to be a part of it. I hope Khun Por and Khru Kitiya have a long and happy life together!
A year ago Christmas day I received my provisional Thai Driver's License. Provisional means it was only good for a year, so as Santa left for points west and Boxing Day dawned on Wat Arun, I was faced with another trip to the Department of Land Transport (DLT) to renew my license.
Many farang (foreigners) ask why I bother getting a license. While the vast majority probably are smart enough to leave the driving to others, untold numbers of farang drive about the Kingdom with nothing more than their International Driver's License, or even less. I, however, wanted to make the effort to follow the law and have my license if I was going to continue taking on the traffic-choked byways of the City of Angels from behind the wheel.
Heading to the DLT on the last Monday of the year was not the wisest choice. I spent a half-hour orbiting the parking lot searching for a place to park. The chaos there - traffic going every which way, regardless of the painted stripes and arrows - was like a driving examination writ large, and nearly everyone seemed to be failing. Finally, as my bladder strongly suggested it might be best to abort the mission, a spot opened before me, one with blessed shade.
The process of getting a driver's license at the DLT is more painless than you might expect. Even if I didn't speak a fair amount of Thai, I would still have been able to work through the steps without the assistance of a native. The main counter on the second floor is staffed by friendly employees who review your documents and there is an English language list of what is required, should you be missing anything. Ad hoc photocopy vendors are in the hallway to take care of any last-minute copying needs so as long as you have all your documents with you, you will be in good shape.
Alas, I was ill-prepared and arrived at the DLT without a medical certificate stating that I was free from whatever diseases would prevent me from the safe operation of motor vehicles. Drat. A trip to my local hospital and a return to the DLT would consume the rest of the day. Cannily, I asked whether there was a clinic nearby. Certainly, replied the friendly staff member. Downstairs in the motorcycle department.
Or, at least that is what I understood. This tale illustrates how knowing not quite enough Thai can be a challenge. I went downstairs and read a sign that I thought said "medical inspections" but which, upon later reflection, must not have said that. Asking at what, in my vision of the world, was the medical inspections counter, another nice lady gracefully cleared up my confusion and explained that the nearest clinic was on the main street and to the left at the first traffic light.
Or, at least that is what I understood. As I traipsed the considerable distance back to Paholyothin Road, avoiding the drivers still participating in the parking lot-wide driving exam, I wondered whether I had misunderstood a second time. My confidence was boosted at the traffic light, though, when I made out the words "clinic" on a sign board and walked past a broken down photocopy machine and into the pale green interior of a small shop house.
Sure enough, for 100 baht a woman of unknown medical experience will listen to your breathing with a stethoscope and then sign a medical certificate clearing you to drive. No, I have no idea what she was checking but presumably she heard my heart beating. Have pulse, can drive.
Once I returned to Building Four, Floor Two of the DLT with the medical certificate in hand, the process was head-spinningly fast. While Thais have several dozen counters at which to be helped, we farang have two cubicles at the far end of the room that have been set aside for foreigners. Thais may find this unfair, but I figure it is just desserts for the double priced admission I have to pay at Calypso Cabaret, even though I'm a resident foreigner.
Within ten minutes of entering cubicle 18, I exited with my very own five-year Thai Driver's License. After all the hassle of getting there, finding parking, and locating a clinic for a thorough medical examination, the actual bureaucratic process of filling out forms, taking a picture, and printing a new license took all of ten minutes.
As I pulled out of my still-shady parking space, I marveled at how easy it can sometimes be to do the right thing and follow all the steps required by the Thai government of farangs living and working here. And then just as my car reached the exit, two taxis ahead of me had a small fender-bender. The drivers exited their cars and spent several minutes arguing over the imperceptible damage to their vehicles, unaware of the line of blocked cars behind them growing longer. As the Skytrain glided by overhead, I put the car in park and snuck another look at my picture, grinning back from under the laminate of my new driver's license.
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