Sushi for Breakfast? Only in Tokyo.

November 21, 2009

Its 5 am and the morning light has not quite yet broken the horizon. As a night owl, I cant’ believe I’m up at this God forsaken hour but alas, I was jetlagged, and I didn’t know what time I should be up if my life depended on it.

Like two ants traveling through an underground maze, we head out in the dark to conquer the Tokyo subway. It is eerily quiet--the morning rush hour had not yet begun. As soon as we arrive at our destination, the smell of freshly caught fish overwhelms my senses and I let my nose lead me. “If all else fails just follow all the foreigners,” my friend says. We pass by row after row of small sushi restaurants and stores selling trinkets and t-shirts. Yes, I am at the famous Tsukiji (pronounced SKEE GEE) Fish Market in Tokyo. The vast expanse of the market is roughly the size of 43 football fields and each year it handles 600,000 tons of seafood-- 1 of every 5 fish caught on the planet! The city plans to move the market in the next couple of years, to a more modern building. But for now, the market still functions as much as it did in the 16th century and I am excited to catch a glimpse of the tradition!

Buyers from every culinary corner of the globe descend upon this place in the wee hours of the morning to fight and bid for the freshest and choicest catches straight from the fishing boats. Days from now, the finest restaurants around the globe will serve hungry sushi patrons the fish we see in front of us. Big fish, little fish and all sorts of other crustaceans are neatly packed on ice in Styrofoam boxes ready to be sold by the kilo.



Its still dark outside, and the incandescent glow of lights shines down on row after row of delectable raw seafood. Preoccupied with dodging speedy motorized three-wheeled carts that whiz by, the hustle and bustle of people helps me ignore the cold morning wind.

I put my amateur photography skills to the test while soaking in my first impressions of Tokyo. That’s when I spotted it. I could only imagine the eyes of eagerly awaiting sushi chefs, if they could catch a glimpse of this blue fin tuna! It its HUGE, massive! I have never seen a fish as big as this, it was twice the size of me!

As calculated and careful as an artist with his brush, the fish cutters dance around their giant prize as if to a choreographed routine, slicing and dicing at all the right places. As quickly as this giant fish was divvied up, it was packaged and rushed to make its international flight. At Tsujiki Fish Market, time is money, and there is a lot of money exchanging hands. One blue fin recently sold for $177,000 USD!



I sat there watching in amazement for about 20 minutes feeling conflicted. There is nothing better than a cut of top grade fresh sashimi, melting in your mouth. I love sushi (especially maguro and hamachi), but I couldn’t help but feel sad. I will probably never encounter a fish of this size scuba diving because there simply aren’t many left in the ocean. I read countless articles about mass over depletion of fish globally, and how over-fishing has devastated healthy populations of marine life… and I just can’t play the ignorant card.

Yet an hour later, I find myself waiting in huge line outside a small sushi restaurant for the freshest tuna over rice that I’ll ever find. Blind eye, party of one.

Disconnected from the Matrix in China

November 11th, 2009

No, Not Facebook and Twitter! My lifelines.
I am so annoyed. It says I’m connected to the wireless router but I can’t seem to get onto facebook. Or twitter. They are my lifelines to the outside world! How else am I supposed to stalk friends and read up on their status updates so I don’t have to call or hanging out with them?! Hey at least I’m speaking the truth. I’ve been without internet for a week in Thailand and jonesin’ for my fix. After about 20 minutes of playing around with my settings, I realize that BOTH facebook and twitter are censored in China! Public enemy number one on the Chinese government’s hit list! Blocking open source content in cyberspace is like trying to clean up all the plastics in the oceans, but leave it to the Chinese to try and suppress freedom of thought.

Ahhh…I am once again reminded that I’m in a communist country, The last time I was here were I was blatantly told that local authorities were after me in a province outside of Beijing for reporting on the AIDS problem in the countryside. Previous to that, I investigated the lack of religious freedom and persecution of Christian missionaries. Our missionary contact’s computer was confiscated and he fled the country soon thereafter our encounter. (The local authorities had been investigating him for sometime). I have had my fair share of run-ins with the Chinese government, and I didn’t intend to this time around.

With its pretty façade, Beijing puts on a good superficial show to convey its openness to the rest of the world, but it doesn’t take much to scratch beneath the surface of this beautifully manicured, new, and eerily squeaky clean city to find that EVERYTHING is monitored.

I give up trying to get online and head to out to explore the city. The bitterly sharp cold cuts through my light long sleeve wrap and yoga pants like a chilled razorblade and I feel completely exposed. I was definitely ill-prepared to battle the bone chilling 1C/32F temp. Anyone who knows me knows I’m like a tropical fish, I need the perfect temperature and environment to keep me sustained. The balmy 30C temperature in Thailand seemed light years away though it was only yesterday morning that I caught my last rays of equatorial sun.

I surrender to the outside elements and sprint to find shelter, careful not to step in the snow. Like an old friend smiling at me, the bright gleaming Starbucks logo in the brand new mega mall on Sanlitun Rd.,(an area frequented by expats and foreigners) invites me in for a non-fat sugar-free vanilla latte. As I look out the window de-thawing with my hot drink in hand I can’t help but think of the irony. The mall is home to legit retail stores like Columbia, Apple Store, and North Face, yet 10 minutes away stands one of the largest knock off markets in the world, Hong Qiao or Pearl Market. Once again, that’s China for you.

Then it dawns on me. In true Chinese fashion, there is also a knock off facebook site. Maybe I’ll check that out.

An Angkor Wat Halloween

October 31st, 2009
It is the only breeze. Humid and hotter than ever, the wind faintly blows by with enough gusto that the dragonflies buzzing about seem to catch a free ticket to ride. I breathe a sigh of relief as I look down at the treacherously steep set of stairs beneath me. I made it to the top of one of the wonders of the world! You may have seen photos, coffee table books, and documentary specials, but to see and feel and touch it first hand was the ultimate experience. The morning sun beats down mercilessly as I try to find solace under the brim of my loud-Japanese-tourist-looking hat. Sweat still drips off my brow but I am more enamored by the view because 360 degrees as far as the eye can see stands the remnants of the 13th century Khmer empire. I imagine what life would be like for one of the 750,000 inhabitants in the capital of the ancient world. It takes us a good 10 minutes drive by tuk-tuk between each temple in the 400 square mile expanse of lush green vegetation, imagine what it was like to walk to your neighbors house back then, it must have taken days! After a quick rest, its time to head to the most impressive and highly anticipated temple (at least for me)--the Tomb Raider/National Geographic Temple--aka Ta Phrom. Where nature runs wild, like an child’s unruly locks of hair, many of the trees tangled roots are now the support and foundation of the temples themselves. I know its an American holiday, but a trip to Cambodia would not be complete without trying my best Lara Croft impression on Halloween!



Temples of Bayon



Ta Phrom Temple

Beggar's Fatigue

Oct 30th, 2009

Today we leave Phnom Penh by bus to Siem Reap, gatway to the temples of Angkor.
It’s a six hour bus ride, complete with funny Cambodian karaoke videos playing on the TV monitor and hard to understand tour guide. Along the roadside, villagers were selling fruit as well as fried crickets! I missed out on the fried spiders though.

At our bathroom break, two big brown eyes approach me. His little hands motion towards the bus as if we have an unspoken understanding that he wanted something from me. “Would you like some candy?” I asked him. His equally adorable little friend joins us, in matching torn and tattered attire and no shoes. Instead of handing out money, which would most likely end up in the wrong hands, I instinctively brought along some halloween candy—lifesaver gummies to be exact—to give to the kids.

In the Lonely Planet they refer to it as beggars fatigue. When visiting a country like Cambodia, it is expected that one will encounter many beggars and street peddlers. At first, I am inclined to give to all that ask, but I still feel internally conflicted about hand-outs. Would I be training kids to rely on foreigners to give them things? How harmful is a little candy? To solve the internal libra-like indecisiveness going on in my head, and really to make myself feel better, I hand over the gummies as well as the snack we received on the tour bus.

Their little hands wave at our window as we pull away from the bus stop and they seemed genuinely happy. Towering above them, a billboard reads, “Angkor is the jewel of Cambodia”. By the sheer amount of buses, planes, and boats transporting hundreds of tourists daily, I question how sparkly that jewel shines in this developing nation. Is it overshadowed by the poverty that surrounds it? Or the hordes of foreign tourists that come in the thousands to trample upon its ancient secrets? The sun sets over the rice paddies and casts a warm glow in the dusk sky. It fades to black and we arrive at our destination.

Meeting the man with no face at Tuol Sleng

October 29th, 2009

I really wanted to give him money. His was probably a victim of an acid attack, burn accident, or something worse. This older Cambodian gentleman’s gnarled up face could rival Two Face from the Batman comics. I struggle with wanting to help and also not wanting to get scammed. What’s a dollar or two to me in the long scheme of things in a country where the per capita monthly income around $70 a month, right? After a few minutes of mental debate, I end up trying not to make eye contact and walk the other direction, feeling conflicted.

As we hopped on a Cambodian style tuk tuk—a modified motorbike with seating for four --I feel the warm breeze wrap around my skin like an old worn-in sweatshirt. I was back in south East Asia! But this time it was different. I have never been to Cambodia, but I expected the same same, but different. I remember the distinct smell of trash in Asia, as it wafts by. The sound of motorbikes dominate the roads, and the fruit stand vendors hawk the freshest of exotic fruits. Bright pink dragon fruit and Aubergine colored mangosteens, and a wide variety of bananas, pineapple and mangoes colored the side of the streets as we whizzed by.


passing by the marketplace

I tried hard not to think about him, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head. A deep hole sat where his right eye would have been, covered by a thin layer of white scar tissue. Half of his face looked as though it had been melted away like old candle wax. Think happy thoughts, I said to myself…but I couldn’t.

We had just spent the afternoon spent at Tuol Sleng, a school turned prison turned genocide museum in the middle of Phnom Penh. I couldn’t help but feel saddened and depressed. It was ironic. A place that used to promote higher education had become a place were educated thinkers were tortured and killed, promoting Pol Pot’s return to a simple agrarian society of peasants and workers. The atrocities of the Khmer Rouge were neatly and precisely displayed at S.21 prison. The grounds were eerily calm as we perused the cells where prisoners were tortured and held. I couldn’t help but wonder why humanity would do this to each other, and why we allowed it to still happen in places like Sudan and Uganda. If only those walls could speak, I wonder how loud the screams would be. I never made it out to see the Killing Fields, where over 20,000 people were executed and thrown in mass graves, but Tuol Sleng and the remnants of the horrible regime that killed an est. total of 2 million of their own people were enough to leave a lasting impression.



the interrogation cells where victims were routinely tortured into confession

Flirting with Globalization in Beijing

October 28th, 2009

“Two noodle soups please, “ my new friend orders in mandarin. The TV in the background showcases the latest Chinese music videos. The walls are laden with old Chinese posters, and outside the smell of the street food is wafting in. We are the only two people in the tiny hole in the wall restaurant on the south side of town, by the Hutongs. It is about 11am Beijing time and the jetlag is starting to settle in. The urban metropolis seems so far away as I sipped my noodle soup, hoping my second wind would kick in. This is the China that I know and have grown to love. Gritty, rugged, and down right rude at times. But the familiar sound of the old man hawking a loogie or toddlers running around with buttless pants, (no need for diapers when you have easy access) seems to have been replaced with young trendy people on mobile phones in a sprawling capital city that I barely recognize.

Like an image obsessed Angeleno, Beijing has had a new facelift each time I return. This time, I arrived in the brand new terminal 3, so squeaky clean and new, even the squatty potties were sparkly white porcelain. One could easily get lost in the behemoth of an airport. I quickly maneuvered around the maze to the outside world and headed toward the shuttle buses, excited to use my rusty Chinese. This is where I met Wang Yao Duh.

He was a scrawny Chinese local who suggested that we share a cab into the city since we were going in the same direction. “Sure”, I said. He didn’t seem too dodgy. We ended up at his car where he offered me a ride, (since I looked like a wide-eyed kid not knowing what to do next for my 5 hour transit). I wanted to see the Olympic stadiums, and he had the day off so we hopped in his car. Meanwhile, I was wrestling in my head with the notion that I am in a complete stranger’s car, in a foreign city, and I was completely trusting him with my life!

The traffic snarls up and it reminds me of the 405 fwy complete with extra thick layer of smog shrouding the cityscape. (Although LA has nothing on Beijing in terms of air pollution.) There are all but a few remnants of the ten million plus bicycles that used to dominate the streets. We end up in front of the Birds Nest and I stand in awe at how fast the city has transformed. The breakneck growth in the creation of a new China leaves a prominent and growing disparity between the rich and the poor evident in the massive architecture I stare up at. Created on the backs of thousands of migrant workers for the wealthy to enjoy, the growing Chinese middle class seems to have an insatiable hunger for all things western…including I guess, western women!

Little was I aware of how forward Chinese men have become! A big flirt, Yao Duh kept trying to put the moves on me as we walked and talked; me practicing my elementary Chinese, him listening and barraging me with questions about my life in the US.

I buffered the situation by suggesting we grab something to eat. Which is how we ended up in the tiny little noodle house. Perhaps it was when he noticed that I hold my chopsticks with my left hand (being left-handed is looked down upon in Chinese culture) or when he realized he was not going to get a kiss, (though he tried many times), that my little 21 year old crush and I decide to part ways. Yes!!! I feel liberated and decide to soak in the atmosphere around the world’s largest public square, Tianamen Square, reminiscing of past visits there.

And thus starts the Asian adventure!

Its amuses me that people in Asia, and especially China, always look at me funny. Is she Chinese? She looks it, sort of…but she doesn’t walk or dress like a local….I kind of like the ambiguity, because when they try to scam me and I bust out my Chinese, I never cease to get a surprised reaction. I decided to take the new subway back to the airport to catch my outbound flight. I love taking public transportation in other cities since I don’t get to in LA. It reminds me of the subways in Singapore and Hong Kong and I cant help but feel a little sad. As we move towards a global society I don’t want to find stores and fast food chains that I can get at home. I want to experience the special intricacies and culture that make each place in the world unique. It seems you have to travel farther, longer, and more remote to escape westernization.

I say all this but then again, I just paid more for my Starbucks skinny vanilla latte than for our whole lunch, and my usual stops in Beijing include purveyors of western material goods…A visit to the knock off purse lady and to the markets to pick up some bootleg DVDs.

my new bejing friend...