TheVaporTrail

Cimetière de Montmartre

Sometimes a door opens when you least expect it. And I mean that literally. I was on Rue Caulaincourt studying a map on a stone wall, trying to figure out where I was. As I was standing there this small utility truck pulls onto the sidewalk, up to a big door that I hadn't even noticed was there. Someone gets out, unlocks and opens the door, then says to me that I can enter.

I didn't have any plans to visit Montmartre Cemetery, yet, there I stood.  I wandered around, peering into the different mausoleums, hoping no other doors opened. Then I spotted this stained glass window. I am still pleased how this photo came out. (Click on the picture to see this larger.)

Ginger Whiskey in Namdaemon

First and hopefully last in the series OH MY GOD...ALIEN BABIES!! (See the big picture)

O.K., so they are not alien babies, they are just pictures of hey that one just moved! pictures of whiskey bodies, I mean bottles. You never know what you might run into wandering around the Namdaemon Market in Seoul. I am told that this is ginger whiskey.

Has anyone tried this? Inquiring minds want to know.

Tsukiji Fish Market on Holiday

Of all the days in the year to visit, you end up there on one of the few holidays. The Tsukiji Fish Market, you have heard it described as the busiest fish market in Asia. You rise extra early, to make the trip before your breakfast meeting. It is early morning, and it should be bustling. Instead, there are no fish, no fisherman, no wholesalers, no auctions, no ice. It is quiet and dark. Even the lights are off. You roam freely, wondering what it must be like when it is full swing. Wondering how much you missed.

Then you start to the see the other side. You have been able to see it on the day it sleeps. To feel its quiet. To experience it in a way different from most. And you do not mind after all. (See the complete picture.)

La Tour Eiffel

To think, they almost tore it down. The International Exposition of 1889 was over, and it no longer served a purpose. They were ready to take out the millions of rivets and reduce it to scrap. It was contentious from the start, and many luminaries of the day thought it an eyesore. But a new discovery was on the horizon, a new technology for communicating. Something that worked best when you could see farther, could reach a more distant horizon. The first in a long series of less is more discoveries...wireless telegaphy. (Followed later by the discoveries of 'cordless phones', 'smokeless tobacco', 'wireless headphones', and 'chewless breathmints', not to mention the 'paperless office' and the 'cashless society'.) And for wireless to work best you needed a tall tower. And, why, coincidentally, we happen to have one right here. Yes, no problem, an antenna at the top, and we are all set.

Which leaves us with still having something today to see all because of something that can not be seen at all. (Check out the big picture)

Challah from Saveur

The only magazine I manage to read is Saveur. I like the way it combines story, travel, food, wine, and history. It puts the food and wine and the life of food and wine in such a rich context. And it has a few recipes. Now you would think I would read magazines about bits and bytes and stuff like that, keep up with the latest technologies, but no. I have people to do that (to them I am known simply as dad, and, on occasion, cranky). If you not only like food, but really like knowing about where food comes from, what food means, the story behind the food, the people that make it happen, then I highly recommend Saveur.

Tonight I made the Challah recipe from issue No. 61, Sept/Oct 2002. (See the big picture for a close-up on the loaf.) This loaf is only one-third of the batch, since this recipe can be used to make up to four loafs. The recipe printed in Saveur is from Claudia Rosen's The Book of Jewish Food. This recipe makes such a light and delicate bread. It is great fresh, but we also slice it and freeze it. Toasted, right from the freezer, it takes on a whole new character and is a treat in itself.

Event Horizon

Sometimes there is no story. You are somewhere over the Pacific, you look out the window, and you see a view you don't see every day. Well, unless you are the one flying the plane. (See the big picture.)

It is not too surprising when those intercom phones ring on the airplane. The pilot has to tell a flight attendant something, or the copilot needs to tell the bursar something else. It always seems like the usual course-of-business chit chat. Are the lights on? Is the coffee ready? I don't know what, really. But once, on another flight, from South Korea I think, the phone kept ringing. Each time the flight attendant would answer, say a few words, hang-up, then go to the door and look out the window. Now it is the middle of the night, in the middle of the sky, somewhere over the middle of the ocean. You are just not expecting someone to drop by. After the third or fourth time I was more than a little curious. Was she getting calls from Rod Sterling? I finally asked. It turned out that the pilot would call whenever he saw the Aurora Borealis. Sure enough, there they were, faintly glowing in the night.

Under the Tracks near Tokyo Station

If you exit the Tokyo station, in the middle of Tokyo, and turn to walk parallel to the overhead tracks, turn again a half a block later so that you are now going under the tracks,  turn yet again so now you are walking along the tracks, but directly underneath, then in a little while, turn one more time, you end up in an alley of sorts. It looks like the back alley for restaraunts to accept deliveries and take out the garbage, but it isn't. You see people in business suits going into small bars tucked away in this hidden space. You are drawn by the aroma of grilled meat and you are hungry, so you find one not too intimidating, go in and sit down. You mumble "dinner". Somebody, not the proprietors, they do not speak English, somebody says "no dinner, just chicken". Which doesn't make too much sense, but why argue. After some more translated exchanges you end up with a 22 oz. Asahi beer, when you were thinking of just having water, but, this far in, you just want to go with the flow. Then you begin to remember, two nights earlier, you are out with a friend. "Chicken" he calls it, as he digs in. You give it a go, you are hungry after all, but it seems a little meatier than the chicken you are used to. Definitely chewier. Hmm, not white meat, not dark meat. You ask, "chicken???", as you reach for your beer. "Chicken," he says, then, after a moment, he taps the center of his chest, "yes, chicken.....chicken hearts." So you are sitting there, in a tiny little bar, in a tiny little alley, somewhere in Tokyo, in a room with less than a dozen people intrigued by your adventurousness, "only japanese people know about this place. how did you find it?", and you think "I'm glad it is the big beer."

It is some time later when you reach the bottom of your beer, and you have politely refused another order of yakitori, exchanged business cards with someone visiting the same company you are, but a different division, and sitting at someone else's table, who is still saying "I can't believe you came in here, on your own". By the time you leave you have learned that the fifty year old bar stools are better built than the chrome and vinyl ones they bought last year, and that the man and woman running the place and not husband and wife but son and mother, but it is hard to tell since they are both on in years. You take a few pictures. Your new friends help you find the nearest station, since, even though you are under the tracks, you are now ready to head back and don't feel like wandering to find the station. And then you remember that you were not going to go out at all tonight. (See the big picture.)

Bonus Round at Canal St. Martin

Continuing in the tradition of finding the unexpected in, well, the unexpected, I spotted this Space Invader while crossing a bridge over the Canal St. Martin in Paris. They must have had a few extra tiles left over after making the sign for the building and put them to good use. (See the big picture.)

Watching Your Step at the Tokyo Tower

There is a hole in the floor in the Tokyo Tower. OK, so maybe it is not really a hole, but it looks like one. And it feels like one. I mean you don't usually see natural light coming up from below. Standing there, at the edge, you think, "I hope this isn't some kind of joke" like they forgot to put back the sign that says "do not stand on glass" or "only one person at a time". Perhaps some school kids are peeking from around the corner, ribbing each other, holding the warning sign behind their back, watching us, saying "I can't wait to see the look on their faces when it starts to crack!" A view like that usually screams "crawl towards edge and peer carefully over; do not let go of floor". Instead I convince my colleage to stand on the glass with me. What could possibly go wrong? And yet, looking at the picture, I can still feel the nervousness, my mind saying, "slowly step away from the glass." (See the big picture.)

View from Sacré Coeur

I was in Paris for two days in January this year. I meandered, took pictures, and saw what there was to see, trying not to get too lost. I took this picture from the front of Sacré Coeur after finding my way to Montmartre. I really like how the spiral sets off the city below. (See the big picture.)

While there I bought one of those international calling cards to call home. When I tried to use it in the phonebooth I found I still needed another card to make the local call to even use this calling card (or so I thought). I walked over to a nearby hotel and asked the person behind the desk to help, perhaps read the card and tell me how to use it, make sense of the phone numbers of differents lengths and, well, colors that littered the card. After turning it over a few times and inspecting it closely, she commented that it was hard to figure out, then said that I needed to use the 'green' phone number when calling from the phonebooth. I learned that the numero vert is the name for toll free numbers.