The invitation came as a surprise, as I never knew he had any acting or singing ability at all. But that didn’t matter. It was an invitation from a friend and so I shall attend the event to support his newly found extracurricular activity: performing on a stage. An expatriate friend living in Jakarta participated in a local community musical play called Godspell. Godspell is an off-Broadway musical from the 70’s that started in the USA. For this local production, the cast consists of half expatriates and half students, with age ranges from teens to mid-fifties. The show took place at a small theater belonged to a school for music and image, called Music Republicain. And i got a front row seat.

My friend played the character Judas. The character suits his image and personality. He laughed when I told him that, and I was glad to find he wasn't a bit offended by the friendly remark. It took him months of preparation to really get into his role. I’m glad to say he did a very good job, considering he never had any professional training in performance arts. So well that now I have found a new kind of respect for the guy. Makes me kind of wish I too could ‘perform’ to an audience, though in reality I know for sure that I would never have the guts to do just that. My ego is apparently not big enough, nor am I comfortable with the idea of living in the limelight kind of life. Oh well… (shrug).

It's the year of snake. Here’s a peek at this year’s company’s newly issued desk calendar and daily planner booklet for our customers:

Let’s just hope the customers can appreciate them. We spent weeks together with the printing vendor scrutinizing every single detail of the outer design and inner content, from font, to color choices, to paper thickness, to pictures. As you may have already guessed, the theme is JAPAN, as it always is every year. I’m just glad we are able to have them sent out on time to welcome the new year. Phew!

(This is a super duper late posting. They were done and sent out in December 2012)

You came. I stumbled.
You left. I was perplexed.
You reappeared. I smiled.
You offered your hand. I took it.
You opened up your arms. I fell into them.
You said you miss me. I crumbled into pieces.
One by one, you take down the icy bricks of a wall that surrounds me.
Little by little, I feel worthy of you.
You asked of a future. I was stunned and speechless.
I made no promises, for I fear the possibility and the unknown.
But this much I know… I strive to be a better man because of YOU.

The month of January was the month of my parents’ birthday. Both of my mum and dad have their birthday within a week from each other. The same case with my sisters, who have their birthday within a week from each other in a different month. I’m the only one in my immediate family who celebrate a birthday in December. Well, unless I want to count my uncle who lives in Germany. His birthday is on the same day as mine!

Mum’s birthday came first. She is not the type who wants everyone to know of her birthday. She prefers to just buy herself some cakes and pastries and stay home. But none of my aunts would have that. Oh no, there HAD to be a dinner. Even when mum never wanted to make a big deal out of it. But my aunts insisted on having one. DRAMA. And so mum gave in. We celebrated her birthday at a Chinese restaurant of their choice, Hawaii, with a bunch of them relatives. They paid for the dinner. And my sister got a chocolate-cherry-rum cake for her.

Dad’s birthday is always a more private affair. He too prefers to keep it just between us the immediate family. And apart from me and mum, no one ever dares to object his decision. No drama. So without the entourage of relatives, we opted for something different. Something more special for the occasion. A French restaurant, Lyon. My pick. My treat. Now, dad could care less for cakes, for he is more of a meat and whisky kind of guy. But my youngest sister insisted on having one, whether or not he’s going eat any of it (she loves cakes, you see). And so she got him one at the last minute, a chocolate-walnut cake.

Between the two occasions, the French dinner by far outdid the Chinese one. We were surprised by how much we enjoyed it, and how much better the food turned out in comparison to the upscale Italian restaurant we went to last year to celebrate both of their birthdays. This won't be the last time I dine at the restaurant. Maybe we'll come back for one of my sisters' birthday. We'll see.

Mum. Dad. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Love you, always.

The line was way longer than we had expected. So long that they couldn’t accept any more people to wait in line for a table for their high-tea session that only available from 2PM-6PM. The fact that we were in the middle of high tourist season made it worse. This was our second attempt for an opportunity to experience an afternoon-tea dining at The Peninsula Hotel, located at the Kowloon island side of Hong Kong.

I was with Gary (@currypuffy) and Nick (@beowulf222). We were extremely bummed by our luck, or lack there of. We still determined to pamper our sweet tooth and decided to go elsewhere for high tea. But we still had to wait for Doris (@snowjunky8), another xangan whom I was to meet for the first time. And so to kill time, we went down to the basement arcade of the hotel, where some shops are located. Down at the low-ceiling arcade, we stumbled upon the hotel’s gift shop, selling various edible gifts, including many of the hotel own handmade chocolates. Some have an expiration date longer than others, ranging from a week to 3 weeks, depending on the flavors. Considering that it was my last day in Hong Kong and I had yet the chance to experience The Peninsula Hotel’s high tea, I thought to myself that these chocolates would make a good remedy for my disappointment. And so I got myself a box of six chocolates from their selection of about thirty or so flavors. This is my Hong Kong souvenir for myself.

It was not until about a couple of weeks after my return back to Indonesia when I finally opened my souvenir. The chocolates were in a dark brown synthetic leathered box, wrapped with a deep forest green colored ribbon with the words ‘THE PENINSULA’ imprinted in white. The box interior is deep enough to carry a dozen chocolates, for it allows a tray of six pieces of chocolates to be stacked on top of another six-piece set. Upon opening the gold patterned cellophane white wax paper that covered the top tier of the interior of the box, six petite beauties instantly colored my sight. They exuded a sweet smell of pure cacao, combined with a certain ratio of milk and sugar that made it unmistakably the sweet smell of chocolates.

I’m not that big of a fan of chocolates. However, I can still appreciate good quality made ones and don't mind having them once or twice, and when I do, I almost always go for the dark variety. The strength of the earthy cacao liquor of the dark variety can be intoxicating, without being too sweet. The six pieces I purchased include two squared dark chocolates; one with lavender chocolate ganache and the other with basil-lemon chocolate ganache. The other four were round shaped chocolates; a green colored dark chocolate shell with a filling of kalamansi lime jelly on top of chocolate ganache, a maroon colored milk chocolate shell with a filling of kumquat-saffron jelly on top of chocolate ganache, a white spotted dark chocolate shell with a filling of fleur de sel chocolate ganache, and a deep orange colored white chocolate shell filled with citrus jelly on top of chocolate ganache.

From them six, I found kumquat-saffron and lavender ones to be my least favorite, for they lacked the strength of flavor enough to give that ‘pow’ moment when their flavor profiles touched the surface of my taste sensory, as the dark chocolate began to melt with the warm temperature of my mouth. Smooth and velvety in texture and just enough sweetness to compliment the earthiness of the dark chocolate flavor, all in all these are fine hand crafted edible arts. Not to be missed for those who crave a sweet euphoria to brighten their crappy day. Or any day, for that matter.

Flower, pork, rice, and shrimp played crucial roles during my four-day culinary adventure in Hong Kong. The trip was supposed to be a simple gathering of a group of us Xangans, but turned into a food hunting frenzy that left me in a food coma at the end of each of the four-day stay. Well, at least that’s how I’d like to think how it went down. No amount of cups of tea, or tasty looking cakes and pastries, or smiles and laughter, or ferry rides on Hong Kong Bay, enough to erase the unforgettable fish-head rice porridge, shrimp wanton soup, baked pork buns, and osmanthus flower jelly I sampled during the trip, thanks to the guidance of both Chris (@christao408) and Gary (@currypuffy).

The cool December weather makes one keeps craving for something hot and soupy. What better way to warm oneself than by indulging the popular wanton soup. Varieties are endless and welcomed by food goers. Those made at Tasty Congee and Noodle Wanton Shop in Hong Kong, however, are essentially highly recommended. The broth is the key. Their version is a very light broth, but one that comes with a gush of sweet shrimp flavor. Strong enough to make one wonder how on earth they are able to make something so light, so clear, yet so flavorful. With each mouthful, my mind wondered on the long hours the cooks spent skimming out and straining out the unwanted broth impurities that tend to make soup cloudy. All I could see in the broth were pale green spring onions floating on top, while a school of tiny blind albino goldfish swam calmly and happily in a clear yellow pool, as my ceramic soupspoon stirred them around. One must taste the broth PRIOR to tasting the dumplings, in my humble opinion. It had a flavor that resembled an ocean of shrimps, which what the tongue begged, while the dumplings provided the texture contrast with an extra kick of shrimp sweetness. There was probably only a singular shrimp wrapped in each paper-thin wanton skin, yet each dumpling was the perfect size for every single spoonful of savory heaven. The egg noodle was absent. We didn’t order any. But there was no need, for it may take away the splendidness of the moment brought by the broth and dumplings alone, enough to make a grown man cry.

If the shrimp wanton soup is the star of the evening sky, then the restaurant’s rice porridge clearly is the moon. For it is able to heighten the reputation of the restaurant with its rice porridge making, as the main draw. I have tasted various kinds of rice porridge in my life, for I am a big fan, and I’m pleased to say that this particular restaurant does not play around when it comes to even simple and humble rice porridge. Being it a poor man’s dish, rice porridge also has been known to be the preferred medicine for illnesses in Chinese culture. It soothes, it calms, it rejuvenates, and it replenishes the soul. That’s exactly how I felt as I savored each and every spoonful of the restaurant’s fish head rice porridge. Despite one’s expectation, the flavor was not at all fishy. But the texture was what startled me. So smooth, so silky thick, the porridge basically just glided down inside my throat, and with it bringing a surge of warm hugs, similar to what hot cacao does in the dead of winter. The flavor of the fish together with spring onions was very subtle, yet it caused me to close my eyes and thought about my childhood. The doneness of the fish was also cooked perfectly. Each nook and crannies of the fish head offered the smoothest meat my tongue could search for. And I had a pile of bones to prove it. My palate rejoiced in happiness. Is it any wonder how the establishment awarded with a Michelin star?

Moving on to yet another great gem of a culinary creation. If you managed to survive a two and half hour outdoor wait for an elbow-to-elbow sitting at TIM HO WAN dim sum restaurant, you better make sure to pamper that tongue of yours with their signature baked pork buns. Perfectly round and come in threes, they tease your every bite with their slight crispness on outer top layer, a perfect pairing to a soft textured dough for a bun. They often arrive warm. Hold it gently in between your fingers so not to crush its soft perfect roundness, and take a bite. Soon appear right before your eyes, a mini cave-like hallow filled with small chunks of porky goodness, covered in a deep scarlet hoisin and sweet soy of a flavoring. Juicy and robust in flavor, it bounds to make you relish each bite with glee. Be warn, one may not be enough, and your dining companions might want the two buns left on the plate. My suggestion is to order more. One order per person, so everyone gets to release three big porky sighs. Yes, you’ll want them all. Trust me. This place is so popular that branches of the same establishment can be found at various locations in Hong Kong. And all require one to take a number and wait behind a long line.

Egg tarts seem to be a popular way to end a dim sum. But that is not how one should end a meal at this Michelin starred restaurant. Another MUST at this dim sum joint is their osmanthus flower jelly. Four orange colored squares in a plate, they captive diners’ imagination with the specks of osmanthus petals and wolfberries, or goji berries, which seem to float frozen in those translucent jelly squares. They were served chilled. Yet, despite its cool, firm and smooth texture, the sweet vanilla-like aroma of the osmanthus blossoms able to permeate one’s nostrils and sent happy thoughts to the brain. Each bite seemed like an episode of a picnic in the springtime, sending one sunshine, cool breeze and floral aroma of the osmanthus flowers. I was so captivated by the gentle flavor of the flower that I couldn’t help but to look for the same flavor in another form of food or beverage. One that I gladly found, as sweetened and chilled osmanthus tea, at the food court inside the departure terminal at the international airport, on my last day in Hong Kong prior to my flight back to Indonesia. It was a perfect way to end the trip. Sweet, aromatic, cooling and calming. Just how I like it. Fond memories of the trip came flying by, one by one, as I sucked the last drops of the tea, while waiting for my boarding call. Delectable is just one of the many words my brain able to conjure up on my experience, yet that wouldn’t be suffice to fully explain my gratification over the city’s food scene. And just like that, I made a promise to myself that I’ll be back.

Early flights always wearying me down. I never get a good enough sleep the night before I travel. And to top it all off with an early flight, well, I’m no Mary Poppins. I checked in online with Cathay Pacific the night before, making sure I get a seat that I prefer. Way at the back and by the window. I always let everyone out first once the plane lands. They always seemed to be in a hurry, and I hate to stand in line with those who have no patience. And so I almost always make myself the last to get up from my seat to exit the plane. This is why I prefer to sit at the back.

The lack of sleep had me worried a little. I kept thinking of the fellow xangans I’ll get to hang with; Angel (@agmhkg), Chris (@christao408), Gary (@currypuffy), and Nick (@beowulf222), as well as Doris (@snowjunky8) and Kenny, a xangan who is no longer active. I needed to be all jolly good to enjoy the trip and so couldn’t afford to get sick. I asked the flight attendant for a glass of water, took out a tablet of vitamin C with zinc, plunged it in, and watched the tablet hissed itself to a smaller size and brilliantly colored the water with its bubbly blackcurrant flavor. I gazed outside the window and found the sky was clear, bright and full of promises, and thought to myself 'Yes, this is going to be a pleasant trip'.

The landing was smooth. I was stoked to find Hong Kong airport provides free Wi-Fi. I checked my mails on my phone while waiting at the long immigration line. Gary sent me a welcome message. Knowing that he had made a dinner arrangement for us for that very evening, I got all excited. Chris texted me to say that he was already waiting for me at the baggage claim area. He was hard to miss, being so tall. Dressed in a nicely pressed long sleeve dress shirt, all tucked in, complete with a pair of dark jeans and dress shoes, he looked perfectly fitting for dining out at the notorious Peninsula Hotel. I felt somewhat embarrassed for dressing down in my t-shirt, cargo pants, and sneakers. Still, it was good to get a cheerful welcome from a friend, especially in a foreign country.

We got ourselves some Hong Kong currencies and a HK$200 three-day pass that includes round trip express train between the airport and the city, as well as an unlimited use of the subway. What later followed that day and the next four-night stay in Hong Kong, surpassed what I had anticipated. Making friends with fellow xangans and their friends was only the tip of the iceberg. Between us all, we represented ten nations and eight languages. The trip was also too short to allow a sufficient exploration of all of the culinary gems the country has to offer, despite the full schedule of breakfast, lunch, afternoon-tea, and dinner, on EVERY SINGLE DAY of my stay. And I did have the stomach for it, glad to say.

The food scene is worth celebrating by the locals and visitors alike. Just like the city itself, the food exudes richness in authenticity, flavors, and variety, with a perfect partnership of East meets West. From a hole-in-the-wall eatery to Michelin star dining, from milk tea to beer on the tap, from wonton noodle to scones, from monastery vegetarian fare to all-pork based menu joint, the city offers them all. Take your pick, go with excitement, and dine in glee. Hong Kong IS the place to be for hardcore foodies. I certainly felt very much at home there and wouldn’t think twice of the possibility of going back for a second culinary detour. I, for one, am hooked.

There is so much to share on this adventure. It is impossible to describe each and every single happiness I got from a food coma. Believe me when I say I felt like I was in food heaven. There were many good memories. I remembered Nick and his handsome vintage Leica camera, the two and half hour long wait for a table at a dim sum place (thanks to Chris), the gondola trip up to see the Big Buddha, the sedative feel of a Chinese tea preparation, the many eye-popping and drool worthy selections of high-tea delicacies, and last but not least, the many happy smiling faces I had the privilege to get to know. Still, it would be rude not to leave a trail of pics. So here is a quick peek inside my memory of the trip…

My aunt Liza loves trying out new recipes and creating new things. She loves baked goods in particular, for she has a sweet tooth. Knowing me as a fellow foodie who appreciates baked goods and western food like she does, once in a while she would makes things and have me as her guinea pig. A responsibility that I never objected nor complaint about. Prior to my leave for Hong Kong, she baked more goodies and went all the way out in her ‘presentation’ effort to wow me. It must be the Christmas bug in her, for she didn’t place her creations in a regular plastic container like she often does. Here’s a peek at what she gave me.

The cheese puff must have been wrapped while it was still warm, for it wasn’t as flaky as it should be. There was some kosher sea salt sprinkled on top of the puff pastry, along with some poppy seeds. The additional crunch and saltiness from the sea salt positively offset the lack of flakiness of the puff, and left me wondering if she should have left out the finely grated cheese stuffing altogether and substitute it with cottage cheese instead. The salt was a pleasant flavor and texture addition, though it made the cheese flavor weak. Still, I swear I could hear the sound of waves crashing into the shore with sea gulls above begging noisily, hoping to get a bite of the cheese puff.

The peanut butter cookie topped with chocolate kiss candy was a pleasant surprise. I’m never been a fan of anything chocolate or peanuts, but the flavor of creamy peanut butter in a cookie with a dense cake-like softness, instead of chewy texture, was a welcoming guest in my mouth. There were no crunchy bits of peanuts that I often dislike. That’s a plus on my book. Even the chocolate was the perfect kiss to the sensuous flavor of peanut butter. I literally smiled to myself as I relished each chew. Yes, it was that good.

The lemon cookie was a splash of spring to my palate. Mild and fragrant, yet so mellow it didn't quite take me to the summer season with each bite. It resembled more of spring, for I tasted lemon petals instead of the sunbath lemon peels that tend to wake one up into a middle of summer. I’m a great fan of all things citrusy and so naturally it was not as powerful and as sour as I would have liked the cookie flavor to be. However, the soft crunch and mild sweetness of the sugar cookie were able to calm me down and entranced me into the mellowness of the moment.

Last but not least, the carrot cake cookie topped with cream cheese icing. Cake-like as all carrot cakes should have been, yet not as sticky and with an additional firmness to the texture. Flakes of bright orange carrots and deep dark raisins seem to mingle happily, hugged by a blanket of spices and brown sugar. It may not be a Christmas staple, but my mind wondered if it should be. Maybe a touch of rum to soak through the thick cookie would have made it perfect. Still, the windowpane seemed slightly frosted against the tropical sun from outside. I wished for snowflakes. A wishful thinking, I know. I licked the cream cheese off my fingers. In my mind, I’d settle for autumn. Yet, that too would be impossible. There is only one solution. Leave the city for Hong Kong winter. And just like that, I set my expectation high. Hong Kong better NOT let me down.

First day back at work and I found THIS is on my desk.

A surprise Christmas/birthday gift from a friend who lives in United States, which include a Christmas cd and a book purchased from amazon.com. This is a great way to start 2013

This month I’m using a very special pen, my Pilot ELITE in fine nib, fully loaded with Rohrer & Klingner Leipziger Schwarz (black) ink. What makes this a special one is the fact that this particular piece was produced by Pilot Japan in the same year AND month of my birthday. Yes, this pen is as old as I am. Though it is a vintage kind, the condition of the pen is brand new when I purchased it online from a Japanese seller.

I can't tell you how weird and exciting it is to find something by chance and yet seems so 'meant to be’. It practically screamed my name when I saw it on my computer screen, and when I read the production date description, I could not resist taking my credit card out. This Pilot is a pocket size pen and I will be taking it along with me for tomorrow’s trip to Hongkong to be with my Xangan gang.

This will also be my last monthly Pen Du Mois installment. I may still post more of my many fountain pens later in 2013, but it won't be as a monthly post as I have done this year.

She walked slowly. Eyes gazed downward. Arms overlapping each other in front of her, as if she was trying to stop herself from shivering. She had on a black cardigan jacket. Upon seeing me, she gave a slight appreciative smile.

“You came” she said, as she approached and took a seat right opposite from me, at the far right corner of her tiny shop. She was expecting me. I promised her that I’d stop by at her shop on Sunday afternoon to see her. I knew that Sundays are the least busy period at her shop and so we would have more time to converse and relax.

Around us were dozens upon dozens of bags. Brown, beige, black, red, green, and few other shades in between. All piled, stacked, and arranged in rows and at various levels. Some hung on the bare white wall, some placed on open shelves. Stand close enough to the bags, one may recognize them and associate them with brand names like Bottega, Channel, Loewe, Louise Vuitton, and many others I’m not familiar with. They all imitation, but made with a first rate quality. All imported from Guangzhou, where she frequently visits every two or three months to place new orders to restock her inventory.

Up close, her face was rather pale. She seemed tired. Her usual warm welcoming demeanor was not present. She was silent as she was adjusting herself to a more comfortable seating position.

“Here. What you asked for”. I handed over a duty-free bag from Singapore airport. The bag was heavy. Inside, a 1-litre bottle of gin. “You drink this stuff?” I asked.
“No, it's for my mum” she replied. “She needs it to soak some raisins that she’ll eat periodically for health”.
“Oh, I see. I really thought you drink that stuff” I said with a smirk.
She smiled. Slightly. She handed me the money she owed me for the gin. She seemed hesitant to talk.
“So, how are you?” I continued, as I put my wallet back into my jeans’ left back pocket.
She gave a weak sigh, then slowly said “I haven’t been well. For a while now. I had a sur…”. Her words came to a halt. Suddenly, she covered her mouth with a white tissue paper she had grasped in her left hand since I saw her. Like she was about to choke on something. Her eyes started to turn red and few drops of tears started to trickle down her cheeks. I was alarmed, not comprehending what was happening. It took a few seconds for her to gain her composure.
“Sorry, didn't mean to be like this”. Her voice was coarse. She stopped for few seconds to dry her eyes, and then continued “I had a surgery. My breast was removed”.
I was stunned. I just sat there. Staring at her. Speechless.

She went on to explain that it happened about a couple of weeks ago, a few days after our weekend gathering with the guys in our group and me sharing snacks and photos from my Japan trip. She already made the appointment when she saw us that weekend, but chose not to tell any one of us for she did not want us to worry. She was laughing along with the rest of us, having a good time. If she was worried, she did a great job of not showing it. She did not want to make a big deal out of her appointment, for at the time she also did not expect her situation to be that serious. She had no idea what was coming.

It all started when she felt pain in her right breast, near her chest area. She went to a doctor for a check-up. This is her second check-up this year. Back in April, I accompanied her for her very first total health screening. She never done it before because she feared the worst. She is in her forties, and due to everyone’s insistence she decided to have one. The outcome of this health screening showed a somewhat abnormal result. They found a tiny noncancerous gland in her right breast, as well as a small lump on the other side of the same breast. However, the doctor that explained her test result did not seem to give a sense of seriousness on the matter and so she thought it was nothing to be concerned about. She thought wrong.

After the test result on her second check-up came out, her doctor confirmed that it was in fact a small tumor. That was on the day she had the appointment after our gathering. It was believed that the tumor still in its early stage, thus yet to spread. The doctor recommended the removal of the tumor, and she approved. Little that she know, it meant that she had to loose her whole right breast. She was shocked when she found out. She thought it would be a simple operation to remove the tumor without a great damage to her breast. But she had no choice. It had to be done this way.

The whole time she explained herself to me, she broke into tears on and off. She seemed so frail to me. Drained of any energy left in her, she still tried hard to remain calm and strong. My heart sunk so low I had no words of consolation. It was such an unexpected turn of conversation on a mellow sunny Sunday. Each time she mentioned of the removal of her right breast, I couldn’t help but to gaze at her chest. It looked fine. Normal. She sensed my confusion and said “I’m wearing a silicon”.

It took her a week after her surgery before she braved herself to get out of the house. The first thing she did was to buy silicon to stuff into her bra to substitute for her missing right breast. It is something to get used to, she confessed. She still feels some pain, for her skin is still healing. And so she needs time before she would go out and hang out with the guys again. She mentioned how she plans on purchasing the expensive custom-made bra designed especially for women with her condition. One that she would wear when she returns to her weekly aerobic class routine.

She made me promised not to say a single word to anyone in our group of friends. She is yet ready to explain to everyone of what she had just gone through. It is safe to assume that she is still in a shock and have not fully accepted her fate. I’m sure it is also a severe humiliation for a woman to loose her breast. I wanted to reach out my arms and hold her. To console her. To tell her that everything is going to be all right. But I too was in a state of shock. And she still felt some pain on the skin of her right chest. And so I did not. I stayed with her until it was time for her to close her shop, and then took her home.

This 2012 had not been a good year for her. She lost both of her father and grandmother this year. It took a while for her to be herself again after that. And when things seemed to be going great, THIS happened. She deserves more than this. She deserves to be happy. I’m worried for her. I wish I know what to do. There must be something. But what?

The sun was out and shining bright. The weather was at a cool temperament at 9AM. Two bright beautiful smiles welcomed me at the lobby of my hotel to take me out on a date. I have previously requested them that Kinkaku-ji is a must, as I have not had the chance to go there on my previous visit to Kyoto back in 2007. And so Kinkaku-ji is where they were taking me.

On my right, she had on a deep pink wool sweater to compliment her dark blue jeans. On my left, she had on a red scarf around her tiny neck to compliment her khaki trench coat. Me in the middle, had on a black light polyester jacket, over a checkered flannel shirt underneath with pale maroon lines, to warm myself from the slight autumn morning chill. From a far, we looked like a perfect threesome straight out from a fashion catalog. With a couple of smiling ladies by my sides, I felt the day was going to be a good day.

We hopped on a taxi to get to Kinkaku-ji Temple. ‘Kinkaku’ means The Golden Pavilion. It is one of the most famous tourist sites in Kyoto and has been registered as a World Cultural Heritage Site since 1994. It is one of my most desired places in Japan to visit. Not because of the beauty of the place, which is worth going for, but because I am a fan of Yukio Mishima. A Japanese writer whom made himself famous in the literature world through his many writings. One of them is a book called “The Temple of the Golden Pavilion”, which loosely based on Kinkaku-ji Temple. Mishima was a famous actor, director, writer, and political activist who in 1970 committed a ‘seppuku’ or ‘hara-kiri’. He did so as an act of protest against the nation for migrating away from old traditions and values, and this is what he mostly remembered for.

Kinkaku-ji is located in the outskirt of downtown Kyoto and just a few blocks away from the nearest train station. Upon arrival, a crowd of tourists could be seen entering the property. The many colors of ‘momiji’, or red leaves, can be seen lined along the pathway, leading inside, to the ticket booth and entrance to the temple. The entry ticket was a large rectangular piece of paper with Japanese characters and stamps on it. It is equivalent to a protection prayer that one may post on the wall. Nearby, a map of the area displayed the vast landscape of the temple and the exact location of the golden pavilion.

As we arrived at the main area inside the property, we came across a large pond garden, with the golden pavilion located on the far side. The whole pavilion is covered in yellow gold leaves. It is intended to give a grandness to the sight, and what a sight it was. Everyone was lining up along the side of the pond to take pictures, and we all had to take our turns as there were too many tourists around. Beyond the pond, we walked through a huge area of temple garden that seemed to depict a hike in a forest. There were trees everywhere displaying the colors of foliage. Paths leading to an upper ground brought us to small shrines and to finally, a tea house.

This particular tea house has a large open-air seating area, right beneath the trees. The seating area is mainly several single piece of low and wide wooden benches covered in bright red cloth. One merely just have to seat on the edge of the bench awaiting for a wait staff in kimono uniform to bring along a set of matcha and wagashi, which is the only thing available on the menu. Everyone pays the same price and gets the same set of the day. The matcha was freshly whipped, and the day’s wagashi came in adorned with a couple of specks of gold leaves, giving a grand feeling to the sweet, assimilating the grandness of the pavilion.

The unexpected setting of the tea house area is very much a welcoming addition to my day. Not only did I get to enjoy the traditional matcha and wagashi that I have learned to love during this trip, but to enjoy them in Kyoto and under the ‘momiji’ colored trees, was an added bonus. My premonition was right. The day turned out nice. My two beautiful traveling companions must had been my good luck charms. And they were such a pleasure to have around.

It rained. It rained throughout the whole day we got to Arashiyama, the western outskirt of Kyoto. Arashiyama was to display their annual ‘Momiji Matsuri’, literally means the red leaf festival. An annual event that takes place there to welcome the autumn season. It was supposed to be a festive day, but the rain got in the way and the festival that was supposed to start at 10AM was canceled.

With umbrellas balanced above our heads, me and my traveling gang accepted our unfortunate Sunday and crossed the Togetsukyo Bridge, the landmark of the area, to get to the other side of the river where shops, tea houses, and restaurants are located. From the other side, view of the autumn leaves was spectacular. Even the rain didn’t stop us from enjoying the vast colorful landscape that colored the town all alongside the river. It was still early in the day and too early for lunch, so we decided to visit one of the many tea houses to stay away from the rain, and to get ourselves warmed up. At the tea house, an array of tea and sweet sets available, and I settled with the traditional matcha that comes with a handmade wagashi. The others opted for something less traditional.

We stayed and talked for about an hour before we felt it was time to head back out there. It was still raining but we determined to at least walk around for a while before we stop somewhere for lunch. We visited one of the many temples in the area, Tenryuji Temple, and were surprised by the vast beautiful landscape inside the temple that happens to be a priority for the visitors more than the temple building itself. After a while, our stomach started to growl. One of the guys suggested of a good place for lunch. A ‘yudofu’ house that he once visited with his family. ‘Yudofu’ means hot water tofu or simmered tofu. It is basically a hotpot dish of tofu as the main course. A perfect meal companion to the rain.

He took us into alleys. We took several turns. Nothing around but residential houses. Soon we discovered a long wooden house with clay-tile roof and its perfectly manicured shrub. We’ve arrived at the restaurant. Perfectly hidden a few blocks away from the bridge, the main road, and the crowd of tourists. Upon entering, we discovered the outside wall of the restaurant is a mere disguise for the immense garden inside.

One has to pass though the garden in order to reach the two-story wooden building where the dining area is located. Once inside, we were guided to the second floor, to a dining area with a top view of the garden. Soon after we were seated, an array of side dishes were presented to accompany the main dish, the tofu hotpot. Most of the side dishes were consist of various pickled vegetables and homemade soybean products, including a dish of soft-boiled egg and vegetable tempura. The meal also ended with another soybean-based dish, a pudding.

I later found out that this restaurant is called SAKANO and is well known for its homemade tofu and tofu products. The meal we had was a typical meal set and happens to be vegetarian friendly. It was a perfect light meal and one that warmed us quite a bit to get us ready to venture the town for souvenir shopping and more snacking, before we headed back to downtown Kyoto. Despite the unexpected cancelation of the festival due to the rain, it was an all around pleasant day.

'Itadakimasu', simply meaning ‘I humbly receive’, is what Japanese people would always say when they are about to eat or drink. It's the one thing that I always hear when I’m in japan, and yet, it always manages to surprise me when I hear it is spoken out loud by someone sitting across from me or beside me at a dining table, for I’m yet used to such practice of etiquette.

Being back in japan has always been one of my travel goals. Now that I’m back, there is not one moment where I didn’t appreciate the fact that I was once again able to hunt for food of Japan that I love so much. It can be anywhere; the basement halls of train stations where one may find choices of shops, cafes and restaurants, the basement level of a department store building where one may find tons of food stands and a supermarket, the small street alleys where one may find teeny tiny basement bars, cafes, and restaurants, or the many street side convenient shops and beverage vending machines. ALL are good places to hunt for that authentic eating or drinking experience that you just can't get at home.

One thing I learned in japan when it comes to etiquette is that one does NOT eat or drink while walking. You don’t see people walking around munching or drinking something. When they want to, they would stop at some eatery place or a convenient shop or street side vending machine to do so. When they are done, then they would continue on walking. This is why it’s so damn hard to locate a trashcan on the streets of japan. The same etiquette applies for talking on the phone. NOBODY uses his or her phone while walking. They would step aside and stop somewhere to finish their conversation or texting before they continue on their journey. They even refrain from talking on their cell phone on the bus or train. They are definitely the quietest people I know. And I love them for it.

Though their etiquette is far different from one that I’m accustomed to, I can't help but to love their way of appreciating food. To say ‘itadakimasu’ is equivalent to saying grace. To be thankful for what you about to receive and to be polite to those whom you are dining with. I learned pretty quickly that though the portions of food in japan is far smaller than most international cuisines, their array of choices of accompaniments included in many meals is far more satisfying than just a single large portion of a dish. Another aspect of Japanese cuisine that I appreciate.

For a week and a half I was spoiled beyond belief. Meals alone worth the hassles and exhaustion of a business trip. Not one meal was too much or too little. They always seemed just right. Portion wise, choices wise, flavor wise, and experience wise. I refuse to believe that it was just a typical excitement one gets when traveling. I know now, after several trips to this nation of the rising sun, that I always feel giddy, joyous, and child-like when I’m in japan. And I never feel that same way when I travel to any other country. So, now whenever I find myself sitting in a Japanese restaurant back home and about to eat, I would quietly say to myself ‘itadakimasu’. Just as a quick jog down the memory lane on what it feels like being in japan.

Some of the fruits of my culinary adventures in this past trip:

I stumbled upon something that I didn’t know I have missed. My crave for choices and varieties in the culinary world has me spent years venturing on the tastes and inventions that are new and exciting. And so for years I lost touch with the pleasure of something simple, something utterly local and very much under appreciated. The humble steamed corn.

It was way pass 1PM and my stomach was growling. I knew there was a long wait, but I had not imagined that they would have me waited for so long just to get my turn for a consultation at the hospital. As I descended down the bleach-white spiral staircase from the second floor, the sight of a mini market, right across from the customer service counter on the lobby level, was very welcoming. But my heart was fixed. I needed more than a bag of chips and a bottle of sweet juice. I needed a meal. My eyes were then fixed on a sign that said ‘restaurant’, 20 feet ahead, right beside the mini market. And so I headed for the only sign that got my heart beat a little faster as I walked with a sure pace.

Joyous promise that I thought awaited me suddenly turned into false advertising, mocking me at my weakness. There I stood in an empty white walled room, brightly lid by the sun shinning in from the oversized aluminum framed windows, reflecting its rays against a vast floor of white square ceramic tiles. Tables all pushed to one end of the room with chairs stacked on top of them. It is not yet opened. Maybe they don't open on weekends. My shoulders drooped. I frowned. I turned back and headed toward the mini market, couldn’t believe I was going to have a bag of chips for lunch.

As I entered the mini market, I noticed a snack stand at a corner, right opposite from an array of tired looking steamed cakes in a basket, placed right by the cashier. The air smelled of sweet milk and custard-like. I knew the smell. One that I have not smelled in years. I let my nose led the way. Upon arrival at the stand, my eyes gleamed and I sighed a happy sigh. There in front of me was a childhood street snack that has waited for my visit in more years than the number of my fingers and toes. Sweet steamed yellow corn kernels in a cup. Topped with a dab of butter, sprinkled with finely grated cheese, and drizzled with swirls of sweet condensed milk. Ahhh…

Only at Rp.9,000 (less than US$0.80) per 8oz cup, it's a cheap quick fix and a satisfying welcome to an empty stomach. I walked away with a smile and sticky fingers. The cup was empty before I stepped out of the hospital lobby. I went straight home and had a bowl of cereal for lunch instead. It did not matter. That cup of corn had me remembering things that I had not thought of in ages.

The smell of corn and butter reminded me of my love for charcoal grilled corn I’ve had many years ago at the wee hours of the night by a street side. Slightly burned on the surface and perfectly flavored in sweet, salty and spicy butter. The cheese and condensed milk reminded me of charcoal grilled thick white sandwich filled with kaya jam and sometimes cheese, to be gulped down with a tall glass of iced coffee flavored with condensed milk.

As I was munching each grainy crunch of my granola cereal, I thought of the many wonderful childhood food memories that graced my life and filled it with utter joy. Sometimes a smell and a taste can do just that. Enough to send one to a different reality and not caring for anything else. I’m craving for more of this euphoria. One that reminds me of my childhood. Of my late grandmothers. Of my long lost memories.

THIS is my way to be thankful on Thanksgiving Day.

“… My memories are trapped, In the wasteland of time as it spins, Like sugar into cotton candy...” (Sayeed, 2012).

They arrived a little later than expected. It had me worried. It wouldn’t be the first for the post office to extend their delay in a delivery of a parcel. Almost a couple of weeks late is not so bad. I’m used to the not-so-fast delivery of anything that comes my way. A good thing they didn’t charge an extra fee for the books, like they have done in the past when I bought books online and had them shipped all the way from the States. Her books have finally arrived. Intact and with no damage. Phew!

Zakiah (@zsa_md) was thrilled that I wanted to purchase a couple of her books. I was smitten far too deep by her words to not wanting more. Her many poetries that she posted on Xanga are the first group of poetries that ever had any effect on me. I don't know why. I never had been a poetry kind of guy. Not by a long shot. But her collection seem so undeniably real, truthful, melancholy, and somehow, relatable. They spoke to me. And dare I say, inspired me to make a similar attempt in conveying my thoughts. Sad to say, my attempts had been very much at an amateur level. And they showed too.

Seeing her face on the cover, smiling at me, just another way to get me excited to flip open the pages. One is a cookbook. Another is her latest baby, titled ‘Stray Thoughts, Winged Words’. Upon opening the cover of both books, her personalized autograph in blue had me smiling. She must have written them with one of her fountain pens. I can tell. This just makes the books more special. Just for me. From her.

I decided to leave her ‘Flavors of India’ for another time and started reading her collection of poetries and short writings. Amorous words seem to flow freely and in plentiful when I read ‘Stray Thoughts, Winged Words’. I’m envious of her ability to convey emotions through her words. I find her writings seem very personal, which makes the read even more enjoyable.

She wrote a lot about those she cared about, past and present. People, family, love, culture, country, places, life. Like fragments of episodes from an epic movie, her stories seem to have a life. They jumped out from the many pages and had me transfixed many a times. Like the piece titled ‘The Grandfather Clock’ and also ‘Memories’. Rereading her words helps in getting the feel of her thoughts. Deep and rooted in the memories of her past and in the love she has bountiful to share.

Some of her words hit me like a truck, as if she was speaking right at me, in ‘Just Be’ and ‘Arrogance’. Some left a lump in my throat, in ‘Mickey’ and ‘Hello, God’. And some left me pondering more on life, in ‘Universe’, ‘Come Sit By Me’, and ‘Questions’.

There are many more in the book that are equally worthy of recognition. Perhaps different piece would mean something different for different readers. Her words have that power. And I, for one, am glad to have been spellbound by the magic of her words. Zakiah maybe an ordinary woman, wife, mother, grandmother, or friend. But to me, she is one hell of a writer.

HAPPY FOUNTAIN PEN DAY!!
Today, Friday November 2nd 2012 is the first of international Fountain Pen Day, which will be celebrated on every first Friday of November.

This month I’m using my Sailor Sapporo Kokutan (Ebony Wood) in medium-fine nib, fully loaded with Rohrer & Klingner Permanent Blue ink. I’ve been so excited with the thought of going to Japan that it is only fitting that I’d post yet another Japanese-brand pen for this month. This is a pocket size pen and I’ll be taking it with me for the trip.

Four days and counting. Four more days before I board the plane and head to Tokyo to attend another one of their bi-annual JIMTOF exhibition.

Registration for attending the exhibition is done. All done online. I used the invitation provided by our supplier, sent in a mail all the way from their office in Japan. Registering with an invitation means no need to pay the 3,000 Yen of admission. Once again, my company saved on cost.

Appointments are all confirmed. My bags are packed. Souvenirs of handicrafts and coffee are all counted for and with some extra, just incase. Suit all pressed and in a suit bag. I won't bring too many shirts. I’ll just have to hand wash some of them and wear them twice. Hotels should have iron and ironing board anyways. And a pair of ties to last the whole trip. Nobody will notice if I wear them more than once. Got nine days worth of disposable undies, with some disposable socks too. I could easily get some more over there if I run out. Or I could go commando and let it all hang loose. Nobody would know. Or care.

This is what I hate when it comes to a business trip. The need to wear a suit and a tie on daily basis. If I’d have my way, international business attire would mean t-shirts, khaki pants, and sandals or sneakers. Everyone would be so comfortable we won’t hate getting stuck in a meeting and converse with new associates for many hours. But that’s just me and my ideal of a perfect world.

Earlier today, one of the Finance and Accounting department staff just handed me a stack of Yen bills. A nine-day worth of spending money for land transportations and meals. Hotels and airline tickets are all paid for. It's a relieve that I won’t need to use my credit card for the hotels, as I don’t think I’d have enough credit limit to cover the cost of all of the hotels we’ll be staying at in Japan, and for three people at that.

I have a couple of free days to roam about for a bit during the trip. After a week-long of exhibition, meetings, and visitation to factories, my reward is a weekend in Kyoto. One of my most beloved cities in Japan, especially in this time of the year when the foliage is at its peak. Can’t wait to be back in the city of matcha, chanoyu, and kaiseki cuisine. More food adventure awaiting me. And it will be awesome

Trip schedule:
Nov.4th – PM arrival
Nov.5th – exhibition (Tokyo)
Nov.6th – exhibition (Tokyo)
Nov.7th – factory (Nigatta)
Nov.8th – meeting (Osaka)
Nov.9th – factory (Tottori)
Nov.10th – Kyoto
Nov.11th – Kyoto
Nov.12th – meeting (Osaka)
Nov.13th – AM departure

Sunday, October 21st 2012. The day I ran on a public street for the second time in my life. And it was fun. All in the name of health and money. JAKARTA RACE, an annual fund raising event organized by The Cancer Foundation of Indonesia, and sponsored by many of the biggest company names in the country. You can choose a 5K run or a 10K run. Obviously, I chose the 5K one.

Earlier during the week… she called out of the blue and asked if I wanted to participate at the event and to support the hotel she is working for (one of the many sponsors) by purchasing the ticket and register from her hotel. I said yes. As a gesture of friendship and as a birthday present for her.

We met up for lunch the day before her birthday. Her treat. It was nice sitting and chatting with her again after the many confusing months me trying to figure out what I had done wrong. It turned out it wasn’t me. It was her. She was going through personal issues that she needed to sort out on her own. She is very private that way. At least now we both are communicating again, ever since she called for the first time after an 8-month absence.

She confided in me of her life situation. How she got an offer from another big name hotel with a much higher salary. She is unsure if she’ll take the job, considering it’ll be in another city and that both of her aging parents are having health issues. She also told me that she met someone and had a relationship. Unfortunately, he was a poison for her happiness. He was possessive. And he also cheated on her. She actually caught him dating another woman. What an a@#hole. I told her she deserves better. And she does. She is still in her grieving stage but she is in a much better place now that she ended it. She is tougher than she gives herself credit for.

That Sunday we met up at the race meeting point. She brought along her bike. It was a fun time. We talked and laughed the entire run. Well, I jogged, and she biked next to me the entire time. We talked about our past adventures in travels, our current life, and possible future. She took few photos of me. She would pedal really fast so she could be a few minutes ahead of me, then she would park her bike, and waited for me to jog pass her so she could take pictures of me. Each time she did it, she would say “Run, Rudy. Run” and then giggled, as I smiled to the camera, drenched in sweat.

It's always nice to be able to chat with her like we used to. We even talked about the possibility of us traveling together again. I don’t know if she’ll be able to keep her promise, or us joining this race again together for the next year. But I can hope, for her sake. And for our friendship.

You are not going to believe this. This is one of the best surprises I’ve had all year. We just got a confirmation from Japan on our accommodation for our coming November visit, to one of our suppliers there. To our surprise, one of the three companies that invited us for a visit has arranged a RYOKAN accommodation for us. And to top it all off, it will be under THEIR expenses, which means that my company won’t have to spend a single cent on this hotel.

For those who may not be familiar with what a ryokan is, it is a traditional style Japanese accommodation. It is more like an Inn but unlike an Inn, it is a very expensive substitute to a regular business hotel. It comes with all the traditional architecture, facilities, services, and food that mainly served for the locals there. The president of the company has decided to provide us with a full-service welcome, considering this will be our first visit to their factory.

I know that I won’t have enough time to really enjoy this ryokan for I will be spending most of my time in a factory. The only time I’ll be inside this ryokan is in the evening when I sleep and in the morning during breakfast. And it’s only for one night. But just LOOK at the place!

Check out this site to see a preview of what the place looks like.

This looks like one of those perfect settings where I picture andreas (@andreas_d) sipping away his tea, and zakiah (@zsa_md) writing up another one of her beautiful poetry with her fountain pen. And it is Fall season there, which means it is the perfect time to be in Japan.

Oh man! I CAN’T WAIT!!
If only all of our suppliers are this generous.