Wedding Bells in Vegas Part II

Oct. 27 , 2006

4:00 PM. Back in the Bellagio hotel room, I quickly slip in my dress and put makeup on while L stands in front of the window looking at the Eiffel Tower at Casino Paris. Only about two more hours before she’s married off! T, the other bridesmaid arrives. It’s time to dress L. We definitely have a technical difficulty to put on the multi-layered wedding gown from the top and not to mess up the hairdo. Even with two people helping, it is not manageable. We make her take off the under gown so she can slip in the wedding gown from below. Voilà, that works! L then gets into the under gown which is also four layers in order to puff up the wedding dress. T kneels down and gets under L’s wedding gown to hook up the gazillion pins for the under gown. I snap a picture. This is a great moment. ;)

5:15 PM. We rush to the Bellagio garden for a few shots before the ceremony. Our speedy walk in the puffy gowns create wind wherever we pass. All across the casino floor, people stop, smile at L and say ‘good luck’. She strides with pride, like a little peacock showing off her plume.

5:40 PM. Last picture at the garden then off we go. We arrive at the Terrazza Di Sogno and take the elevator down to the lower level to hide away from the groom and guests. We wait anxiously. I must have checked on the ring ten times. I make T look at it again. It’s still there, nested safely inside the zipped pocket of my purse.

6:00 PM. The bouquets arrive, tulips in pink for the bride and yellow for the bridesmaids. L’s little cousin V comes with a basket full of white rose petals. I am burning with anxiety. I touch the ring again from outside my purse just to make sure, one more time.

6:20 PM. Sara’s here. It is my turn to go upstairs. L tells Sara her dad steps on her gown when they walk side by side. Sara says “You need to kick it so the dress goes forward”. “OK. Kick it…” L sticks out her leg and kicks the dress knee high. The gown flips outward in the air. “Not THAT high.” Sara corrects L immediately. We burst out laughing and follow Sara into the elevator. As the door slowly closes in front of me, I take a last look at L. She stands closely by her dad, peaceful like the night I stayed in the Sahara. Only her eyes betray her nervousness.

6:35 PM. “Slow, slow, slow.” I talk to myself silently as I step out… I smile to the familiar faces and wink at Mike. At the stairway leading down to the altar, I try walking down w/o lowering my head.” Someone is right in front of me holding a camera-like gadget (video man later I figure), he’s blocking my way. At the last three steps down, I feel slightly disoriented so I decide to finally look down. There, I make it to my designated spot. V comes right after me. The poor thing is so nervous. She forgets to toss any petals at all until she passes all the guests and comes around to the stairway. I motion and “yell” to her in my lowest possible voice, “Petals, V!” She looks at me and T and wakes up to pick one petal and toss it, and another. A few chuckles come out from the groom’s side. By the time V moves to the front of the terrace between T and me, she still has a basket full of petals. T and I each grab a palmful and toss them towards where the altar is supposed to be.

6:45 PM. Here comes the bride. The music starts. All I can see are people standing towards the gate of the terrace above. I turn to CF, the groom. He looks really serious. I wonder what’s in his head right now. What a lucky man he is to have L! L finally appears at the corner of the stairway. She looks like a princess. When her dad passes her hand into CF’s hand, they freeze in a hand-shaking pose. It must be nerve-racking since they both seem not to know what to do with their other hand. The kind minister says to CF, “You can hold this hand of hers” and places L’s left hand into his palm. They are exchanging the most simple vows. On several occasions, CF pauses and looks at the minister bewildered, as if he has not caught what the minister said. My heart races up to my throat. Then CF slowly completes the sentence. Through the veil that is flowing in the evening breeze, I can sense that L is crying. My eyes start to get moist.

6:59 PM maybe? “You may kiss the bride.” The minister announces. The moment CF kisses his new bride, a big bang comes from the water below the terrace, accompanied by the fountain exploding into the sky. The sultry voice of Frank Sinatra is in the air. What could be more perfect! Our cheers are subdued by the sound of the water and Frank Sinatra. Nestled in each other’s arms, L and CF turn towards the fountain show perfectly “designed” for them. Their silhouette is sketched in the background of brightly-lit Eiffel Tower and the emerging water shooting sky high.

Wedding Bells in Vegas Part I

photo left: L before the wedding at her Bellagio hotel window overlooking Vegas strip

There is no other city I would call a second home than Las Vegas. Mike has been here eight times and I've been here six times all in the past three years. But this time, it's the most special because I am here for my bestfriend's wedding. L has finally found her better half and is getting married. Oct. 27 is the big day. We fly in on Wed. night, Oct. 25. It's my first time being a bridesmaid (matron of honor). I think I am more nervous than the bride.

I pack the bridesmaid's gown, a two-piece in pretty pool blue. The wedding is going to be at 6:30 at the Terrace in Bellagio. I also collect everything for the bride's emergency kit including safety pins, bobby pins, cotton balls, Q-tips, hair spray, mints, needle and thread, chap stick, and etc.

L says I am going to make a toast after the bestman. I panic. It's not because I have never made public speech before. I was MC in front of eight hundred people when I hosted a new year party in grad school. Back in college, I also hosted numerous functions. But I panic nevertheless. Maybe because L is my bestfriend and this is the most important day in her life and I have the honor to toast to the end of her maiden days and to her transition into a brand new life. I've known L for six years. We have traveled together, eaten countless meals together, drunk vodka and wine over Korean movies... She endured my overbearing temper and I held her when she cried... We have shared a lot and still have lots more to share. I have many things to say but I cannot find a place to start. I decide not to write the toast down because I will get more nervous trying to remember every word. I decide to wait till the last moment and "just wing it" like what Mike did before he made a toast at his bestfriend Dave's wedding.

Thursday passes really fast. L gets her marriage license and we meet at 3 PM for rehearsal. It's windy and a little chilly at the Terrace. Sara, the wedding coordinator singles out the wedding party and tells us what to do. Since it's my first time being a bridesmaid, I am not that familiar with the sequence of who walks in first and who follows suit. It is quite chaotic, adding to the confusion is the fact that the parents on both sides do not speak English and only one person (me) out of the entire wedding party has experienced a Western wedding ceremony first hand (that was even two years ago at my own wedding). Thank god for Sara, we get it done hazard free.

Friday morning I get up early and meet L at the Salon. We both have French manicure done. She's already gotten so many congratulations as soon as people know this is her big day. At 1:40 PM, we head towards Bellagio for her hairdo and makeup. I sit beside her in the waiting room and stare at her flipping through the pages of a wedding magazine, looking for an updo she likes. Surprisingly she is incredibly calm. When the hair stylist passes her onto the makeup artist, everyone congregates around L, congratulates her and admires her gorgeous classic updo with a tiara of lilies in the front... She blushes under the fingers of the makeup artist. L has always had a sweet demeanor. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, I sense the aura that is sweeter than ever. She now has the glow on her face that only a bride has on her wedding day.

More on Sugar High

Starting from Munich, the first day coffee break is accompanied by the Black Forest Cake. It's definitely much better than the one I had in Old Europe, the excessively decorated Georgetown restaurant that serves 'Bavarian' food. Ralf is from the real Black Forest. If he did not fly from France to meet us, he would have stopped by his home town and brought me an authentic BFC. He insists that it would be so much better than what I have right now. But it is already fantastic for me, I mean it really. I would not mind a little bit more rum, which according to Ralf is what differentiates the real deal from the imitator.

Salzburg has my appetite going before I even arrived. Ralf informed me weeks ago that it is HUGE (HUMONGOUS) on desserts. Everyone who comes to Austria needs to eat the Sachertorte, a chocolate cake covered in apricot jam, then covered in chocolate icing. When the outside chocolate dries, it's ready to serve. When we stop by Demel right after lunch so I can see how a sachortorte is made, there is no one in the shop. The pale-skinned exquisite looking cake chef is preparing the sachertortes that are neatly displayed on the side to dry. The process includes taking a baked round cake, dripping honey like apricot jam on all sides, then covering it in chocolate icing. They look so yummy but it's not time to have dessert yet. I drag my feet out of Demel wondering if doing such sweet tasks everyday makes the cake chef so beautiful. Note that this is a he, not she. I can frame him and the precious warm drying sachertortes in an oil painting and stare at it for hours. After a couple more hours walking in the city center and the tour uphill to the old castle, it starts drizzling. We are ready to have our cake break. The sachertorte tastes dense but not too sweet. I also sip the melange which is a Viennese specialty coffee similar to cappuccino. I drink it dark so it is in perfect balance with the sweet sachor.

Next we taste the Mozartkugel, Mozart Balls literally. It has different layers inside that contain different nuts such as pistachio (that causes the green color filling I think) and almond. The middle layer is nougat then it's covered with dark chocolate. It was invented in 1890 in Salzburg by the man named Fürst and Fürst named the kugels after Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who was born in Salzburg. Ralf tells us to buy the authentic ones covered in silver foil with blue trademark instead of the red commercial ones. I try the commercial one for 0.9 Euro each. It tastes decent. The traditional Mozartkugels are made by hand while the commercial ones are perfectly round, and of course made by machines.

In Vienna outside the Opera House, I see this store that sells just the sachertortes. They are all delicately wrapped and some beautifully bow-tied in the display window. What a national pride! Instead of having sachertorte for coffee break, I choose the Mozert Cake (see above) when we sit down in the courtyard cafe right in the middle of the royal Hapsburg palace. Here among the locals and travelers, time stands still over the espresso smell in the air. I am always amazed how easy it is for me to relax and let it go during traveling. There is no rush to the next sightseeing place since my heart has found a joyful and gratifying spot. As I indulge in the soft mousse in front of me and occasionally look up the windows dotting the grand palace walls, I wonder in the six centuries this Austrian empire rules, how many sachertorte the royal princes and princesses have enjoyed.

Surprise, Surprise.

Mike said we were going out for breakfast and would not tell me where. We were on I66 for a while before we ended up at the parking lot of REI in Fairfax. I was totally surprised. Does this mean he agrees to let me go on the 17 day backpack trip to Egypt and Jordan?

It all started when I got a call from my coworker on Monday and asked me if I'd like to join her on a trip to Egypt and Jordan in Spring. We had only work interactions in the past. I never knew Julee had this obsession for traveling. She told me on a couple occasions she heard about others talking about my travel cravings, especially my trip into the Sahara and camp overnight. She thought I might be able to tough this one out too. As soon as I got off the phone, I rushed downstairs to Julee's office and started babbling. It's a great sense of relief to see the fire in someone else' eyes when you know they get what you are talking about. I never saw her coming in a million years! She said she'd never imagined me like this either. Yes, course I want to go to Egypt!!! I was going to go with L but she got engaged earlier this year so all the travel plans had to be set aside to accommodate the wedding plans. Egypt is definitely out for Mike. I was quite disappointed for some time since I have exhausted my options for travel companions.

After seeing Julee, I started my own investigation. First, I checked out the gapadventures.com where the tour is offered. It's really dirt cheap compared to all my other trips to Europe, Asia or Caribbean. For 17 days all living arrangement is included (be it a hostel, hotel, camp in the desert, or felucca on the Nile). I just need to book my own tickets to Cairo and back. Their website says "This trip contains a sensational mix of activities where we see the pyramids, journey along the mighty Nile, traverse the stark Sinai desert and cross the beautiful Red Sea. Join the Bedouin in Wadi Rum for a memorable desert stay before taking a dip in the buoyant Dead Sea. View the stunning stone facades in Petra and explore the modern Arab capital of Jordan on this unique Middle Eastern adventure." It also mentions that a suitcase would not be proper for the trip. I would have to backpack. Because the trip condition may not be as comfortable as the others I've taken, there is also a required list of items I need to bring such as flashlight, sleeping bag, and etc.

I have not been able to sit still. I day dream constantly even when I am driving. I've checked tickets, from Air France via IAD to Cairo is not that expensive; I've checked the State Department's website for security warning. Nope, thank god neither country is on the ban list; I've checked immunization shots, visa requirements (I need one for each country); I've calculated my leftover annual leave (I may be a couple days short but I can beg my boss for advanced leave maybe?) Then I printed out the trip dossier from gapadventure and brought the news home to Mike. He said he would think about it. Calling me a pest is kind. I have been harassing him since I asked his permission to go. I call him a dozen times at work to repeat just one thing: "Let me go?"

And today as we walked out of REI, holding my new Kelty backpack that's carefully fitted specifically for my body, I said to him "Thank you baby, I am really shocked." He turned to me and said "Against my better judgment!" We made it to lunch instead of breakfast. I asked him whether he agreed to let me go. He said he hadn't made his decision yet. Secretively I am guessing he would not just buy the backpack for me to be a tease. I am feeling very positive.

Sweets for the Soul

I love sweets. Most desserts that are deemed too sweet for people I know are not sweet at all for me. My favorite is chocolate - dark. We went to Alois Dallmayr right outside the Residence in Munich. Dallmayr used to be the royal family's food supplier. Today it offers gourmet food to all commoners. I chose the Jamaika Rumtruffel from the numerous selections and another chocolate bar with Bavarian liquor. A little alcohol in chocolate makes it more heavenly. That's why Godiva's rum truffels have been my long time favorite. I could have eaten the entire bar last night if I did not have to leave to do something else, which I do not remember. What I do remember is how the chocolate tasted. When the outside chocolate melts in my mouth on first contact, the tip of my tongue detects a thin layer of paste, I presume it's the rum truffel concentrate because the happy feeling instantly shooting up my brain is so familiar. If there is really Charlie's Chocolate Factory, I'd volunteer to work at the Rum Truffel Dept.

photo: chocolate counter at Alois Dallmayr, Müchen

Prague

I have always wanted to see Eastern Europe. Prague is recommended by many of our friends who rave about its exceptional beauty. Mike's best friend Dave used to stay here for a month over a study-abroad program. He spent measly money on rent and food and loved the place. Mike does not mind visiting Munich since it is neat and clean according to our German friend, Ralf. I cautiously approach Mike and try to use Munich as a springboard: "Can we then make it to Prague also? Pleeeease... It's only an easy five-hour train ride away!"

The six-hour train ride from Haupbannhof starts at 6:40. We have our own compartment. It's nice that the seats are hollow so we can store the big suitcase under it. There is a policewoman sitting across from us. She greets us with a smile as we settle in. The Dramamine must have worked, I do not feel queasy at all. Close to the border, our fellow passenger reaches her destination and the border inspector on the train comes by to check our passports, but stamps only mine since Mike can go to Prague w/o any visa. Every time someone gets hold of my passport he or she always scrutinizes it from page to page. I've just switched to my new passport since the old one has run out of all the visa pages. I think having more visas would make it less suspicious since they show that I am not visiting outside US the first time.

There is no clear border line when crossing by train from one country to another but in our case it becomes so obvious because the next passing stations all have names that contain very little vowels. I find it puzzling to try to pronounce the Slavic language. From the Hlavni Nadrazi (Main Station) we locate the Red Line C to go to our hotel. Prague has three underground lines, red, green and yellow. Their subway system is very convenient and can get us to most sightseeing places. Or we can always take tram #22 or 23 which travel above the ground, especially if we want to go to the Castle Town across the Vltava River.

I soon collect my first impressions of Prague:

• Colorful pastel houses on cobblestones. They don't give the ancient looks like the buildings in Rome. They have more colors than the similar looking houses in Paris. The entire city is designed for a pleasant stroll on a sunny day. Streets are littered with cafe shops when you need a break. My mind would often wander off to imagine how it used to be when there were no cars but just carriages slowly passing the same busy cobblestone streets and people dressed in 16th century attires would come out from the nearby cafe or corner pastry shop and cross my path.
• Beautiful women who mostly have dark hair and dark eyes. I have expected to see a little difference in the dress styles from Eastern and Western Europe but there isn't any. Modern, westernized girls are everywhere.
• KFCs and McDonald's prevail. Our hotel for one is situated right outside the metro stop I.P. Pavlova at the corner of KFC and opposite the street of McDonald's. Pizzerias also seem to be very popular too.
• Tourist mob scene. Even at 9 o'clock at night in the metro, there are herds of tourists. Some in such rush, they are pushing through the crowd to run up or down the escalator to get to their next spot. The Old Town square is full of people like me, holding a camera of some sort, with facial expression of either being lost or in awe. Although as part of the mob, I cannot help but feel a little sad how westernized and touristy Prague has become. I have a secret wish that I were here before communism ended. Maybe the Prague then is a little more true to its nature.
• Cat souvenirs. Never in another city have I seen so many cat themed souvenirs. There are cats carved out of wood of various sizes and colors, cats made from special Bohemian glass and nicely framed, crystal cats, whole set of kitchen gear with smiley cats, cat T-shirts... Every time I see them, I stop to look until Mike drags me away. I happily welcome home a red metal canister that has cat smiley face and pensive face on the front and back, along with two carved wooden cats, one blue and one brown, to add to my cat collection·
• Charles Bridge at sunset is not to be missed. The bridge is full of people unless you come at dawn but it is more lively during the day when packed with handicraft stands, portrait artists, saxophonist, chitchatting tourists, occasional lovebirds kissing by one of the statues. For good luck, don't forget to touch the carving under the statue of Saint John of Nepomuk and make a wish. More importantly, only touch St. John, not the dog on the other side, which supposedly brings bad luck.

Sunset

No matter where I am in the world, sunset is the same, so gloriously beautiful, fast and relentless. It is beyond my words to describe.

left photo: sunset Caribbean

below 1: Hong Kong harbor; 2: over Charles Bridge, Prague; 3: Parliament, Vienna; 4: from hotel window in Siena, Italy

The Art of Haggling

Who would have thought an Indian and a Chinese together cannot haggle the price down when facing a Moroccan? When it comes to bargaining, I always think I am pretty good since I have years of practice growing up in China and being so used to haggle for practically everything regardless if it’s a blouse or a kilo of tomatoes. Same goes for Srini, already very skilled in this art, can usually drive a hard bargain. We are so confident heading towards to the souks of Marrakech thinking we will get some really great deals. Every time we would cut the asking price in half but almost every time when we buy something and go to the next shop, the asking price is cheaper than our previous purchase price for the same goods. Is the quality deciding factor for the price? We would never know because I simply cannot tell goat skin from sheep skin which the lamp could be made from. According to the amiable shop owner, one emits bad smell after lighting up and the other does not - the "better" one of course costs three times more. I probably will not know until I have the lamp lighting up a couple hours in my house here in Virginia and suddenly smell the stench. Srini and I try to remind each other not to fall for it next time but we do it again and again facing the various vendors. Berber or Arab, it does not matter. It’s always a win-lose situation or we leave the shop feeling we have been tricked again or haven’t we? We will never know...At the end of the day, I admire these masters of art and wish I could possess it when negotiating salary with my boss. :D

Food

Mike eats to live and I live to eat. Being Chinese, who are famous to have "eaten anything with four legs except tables" (quote from my roommate Priya from Grad school). Even though I do not really eat anything and everything, I always have the good spirit to try it at least once. How else would you know, right? Things I do not eat and will not even try though are: cats, rats, scorpions, monkey brain, and pork fat.

photo above: Jemma el Fna at night

My favorite food is of course Chinese, especially spicy Sichuan food or Cantonese food that is very flavorful and cooked mostly with white sauce. My second favorite food is Italian (Mike’s absolute favorite).

When traveling, searching for restaurants recommended by the guidebooks up and down the streets often fill a big part of our day. This gives us a good opportunity to explore the cities and towns above and beyond just the sightseeing areas. My most savored memories of the taste and smell of travel consist of moments when the non-English speaking owner proudly brings out his steamy homemade pasta from the kitchen three feet away from our table in Siena, when I see the grin from Mike’s face after the first bite into the lasagna in Rome, when we stand around the rustic bar of Sagardi in Barcelona the third time in two days, waiting for the next hot plate of tapas - the freshly baked pigs-in-the-blanket only with the Spanish chorizo, when we dip our churros in the melted chocolate in Chocolatería San Ginés in Madrid, when the hint of citrus floats out from the chicken tajine at Riad Mabrouka, Fez...

Chicken Tajine with Preserved Lemon, Fez

My Two Cents on Beer

Beer halls and Biergartens are probably the most famous symbols of Munich. The first one we’ve visited is Augustiner Keller near the central station. Germans drink beer over lunch, dinner or anytime during the day I guess. Surprisingly I don’t feel dizzy after drinking half a liter. The foam is especially good when I submerge my lips in it, touch it a bit first then gulp the air down anticipating the ice cold beer to come anytime afterwards passing through my tongue. In the evening of the first day, we meet my college friend, Rella, and her husband Robin for dinner. Because Mike and I have so many local guides this time, we are recommended mostly to places locals eat instead of the world famous beer hall such as Hofbräuhaus where rowdy tourists congregate. The Paulaner brewery is right outside our beer hall. I try the Weissbier, white beer literally. It is very light and always served in its special hour-glass-figure beer glass. I also sample two other beers ordered by Rella and Robin. One dark that tastes sweet, one orange that tastes a bit sour to me but Robin corrects me that it’s really more bitter instead of sour. Well, to my taste buds anyways. I stick with the weissbier. Neither Mike nor Ralf drinks alcohol so all I can say is either “What a waste!” or “More for me...”

Biergartens are more popular in summer due to the weather condition in Bavaria. They offer rows of benches and tables outdoors. You can bring your own food to some of them, purchase your beer and enjoy! We have failed at two attempts to sit outside at the Biergarten because it is too cold. On the fourth day in Munich, we walk to the Chinese Pagoda in the English Garden, their biergarten is open but I have stuffed my face with roasted peanuts from street vendor so another beer at that point is too much to think about.

Rella says the food at Hofbräuhaus is not good and it’s extremely loud to sit down and chat. Being a typical tourist, I ask to just check out the loud-mouthed drunk tourists, the traditionally dressed beermaids and the band that’s frequently playing inside the beer hall. We have some time on Sunday night. As soon as the door opens, noises inundate me. This is just as I have imagined: lively music dominates the background when people yell or maybe just try to chat loud enough to hear each other, beermaids dressed in plaid rush from table to table with at least 5 liter mugs full of beer in each hand, tourists sit on the benches next to each other like fully packed sardines in a can. We quickly pass the vaulted hall, which is truly gigantic, and close the door and craziness behind us. There in front, a moonlit quiet street leads towards Marienplatz, promising a much calmer night ahead of us.

Czech people also share similar thirst for beer if not more than their German neighbors. They brew their own beers which are all very good. Among which, Pilsner Urquell is the flagship brand in Czech Republic. It is golden and smooth. I have it every meal in Prague except when I drink the incredibly strong shot of Absinthe.

My Beloved

I celebrated my two year wedding anniversary in August. My hubby Mike, an entirely different person from me, accepted my extreme personalities as part of what he married into. Apart from having many good traits, he has fully embraced my obsession with cats, travel, chocolates and my passion for a fine shot of vodka and good food in general. I have nothing particularly great in return but I am dragging him to see the world as my contribution to him. Born and raised in Virginia, he’s only been to Ireland before we met and has no intention of being a world traveler. He would have been perfectly happy in our living room couch in front of the Redskins games forever but he has me, who is constantly restless. Between October 2004 and October 2006, we have traveled to the following places:

• China, including Beijing, Hong Kong, Macau and Wuhan
• Italy, including Venice, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Sorrento, Siena, Florence, and Milan
• France, including Paris, Avignon, Marseille, Nice and other small coastal towns along Cote d’Azur
• Monaco, where he won 200 euros in Blackjack
• Spain, including Barcelona and Madrid
• Caribbean cruise docking Bahamas, St. Thomas of USVI, Tortola of the BVI, and Dominican Republic
• And our just completed trip to Germany, Czech Republic and Austria, visiting Munich, Bavarian castles, Salzburg, Prague and Vienna

The special credit goes to him letting me travel to Morocco with another man on New Year’s Eve. This post is to acknowledge him with all my love and appreciation.

Gluttony

Food in the trip to Germany, Czech Republic and Austria is heavy in one word, or meats, potatoes and beer in three. Nonetheless wonderfully satisfying, if I am not considering the waistline to fit into the bridesmaid's dress next week at my bestfriend's wedding.

I am not a beer drinker but I start drinking at 11:30 as soon as I arrive at Augustiner Keller, a beer hall near the Haupbannhof (central station). I've never had better tasting beer. I notice that every beer mug has a line which indicates if it's 0.5 liter or 1 liter. Supposedly the bartender should fill the beer up to the line. Good honest business will do. If they don't, I guess you will just have to suck it up since customer service is non-existent in Europe. Ralf warns me they will kick me out if I complain the beer does not reach the line.

I eat seven sausages over sauerkraut. The sausages are called nurburgers. They are delicious, small but fulfilling. Pretzel is extra money but it's worth a try. Till the end, I cannot differentiate between the gazillion kinds of sausages, white, yellow, red, black. Just endless choices. At another meal, I have tried some dark ones with white dots inside, soon to regret even putting my tongue close to them since the white dots turn out to be pure fat inside the dark skimpy meat. Ugh.

Goulash in Prague is delicious, always served with dumplings, which are soft bread. Lunch portion can easily feed two people. I ask the dark-eyed waitress for a shot of Absinthe, the water-down version of the hallucinogenic drink that's banned in US and rest of Europe. Unfortunately, I have not seen any rainbow colors after taking it. It's green and tastes almost as strong as the Chinese rice wine, only with additional herbal spices. It's very bitter and burns from tongue to stomach. Over dinner I have ordered a pig foot roasted in beer at the Ropemaker's Wife restaurant at the New Town. It reminds me of my mom's cooking except that the skin of the pig foot is a little tougher to chew but the meat is sweet and juicy.

Wiener Schnitzel is not as good. Too much fried meat for me. This is a piece of veal, flat and rolled in bread crumbs and deep fried. Eating half would have sufficed, but this 300 year old Viennese restaurant offers me a serving of delicious roasted parsley potatoes on the side, which I simply cannot refuse.

The Land of Fairy Tale

"Noy-shwann-shtainynn" Ralf, my Grad school friend tirelessly corrects me. "If you want to say it right, it's NOYSHWANSHTAINYNN not NOYSHWYSHTAINYNN. You are calling it the new "pig" stone instead of the new "swan" stone." That finally catches my attention. Aw so I've been butchering the German language all this time when I tell my coworkers back in US that I am going to see the real Cinderella castle in Bavaria, the new PIG stone. :P

I start screaming and running towards it the moment we park at the foot of the mountain, excited like a six year old. I have always thought a fairy tale castle would look like this, tucked in the mountains with clouds and trees around, hundreds of rooms in the grand palace. My imagination runs wild about how the mad king Ludwig created this and it must be wonderful to be his queen because a man like this must be full with imaginations and their love story must be full of romance and passion. All the fairy tales I read when I was a little girl bubble up in my brain. I am intrigued by this pretty thing in front of me, unable to tell between fantasy and reality.

Ralf, being the sensible German, shrugs and says "Nah, he's crazy and unfit for a king. He totally bankrupted Bavaria for his castles." Well, for those who only care about the end product and better views, I already spring to Marienbruke (Mary's Bridge) for a better view of the castle. There, is the lake Newschwanstein overlooks and the vast Bavarian plain with lovely little white houses under red roofs.

Dedicated to Srini

Srini was my partner in crime who offered me a life time opportunity of going to Morocco. Thanks to him, a very avid and passionate fellow traveler, all things that I thought would be impossible just came by so easily, agreed upon in a shake of hands, planned w/i a week, tickets bought, hotels booked, transportation in between TBD and there, on the evening of 12/31/05, we boarded the Air France and headed to Marrakech, Morocco, first-time African experience for both of us. We remained friends, in case you wonder, and came back from our adventure together in one plane.

-- New Year Surprises
Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven,...Three, Two, One, Happy New Year!!! When the clock turns to 2006, our plane has just touched ground at CDG, Paris. To our surprise, we are stopped at the passport checkpoint and not allowed to transfer via MAD(Madrid) to Marrakech since neither of us have a Schengen visa. We do not know within Europe we need visa to connect flights. The nice French man at Air France is kind enough to find us the next available flight to connect directly into Morocco, which our Moroccan visas permit, but to Casablanca instead. After five hours of waiting in Casablanca airport and our increasing anxiety about the delayed flight, I have my first impression of Morocco... Time has a different definition here. Maybe over sipping mint tea, an hour is simply only ten minutes passing. When we arrive in the dark Marrakech finally, we are welcomed by the second surprise. Where is the luggage? I have my makeup, camera and gameboy in my backpack, Srini has his camera and binoculars in his. Our entire trip is packed in our checked-in luggage, lost.

We decide we are still going to make it a night and carry on our plan to go to Chez Ali, a local restaurant/show where we see horsemen performance and belly dances; we head to the market first before all stores close for the night to buy one day worth of things including fake Diesel sweater and other stuff to keep warm; we have decided even if we have to replace everything to last us through the entire trip, we would not skip Merzuga and the sunrise at Erg Chebbi in the Sahara...

Throughout the trip, there were many more surprises and complications, some more inconvenient than just losing our luggage, but we made it and I would not trade any part of it.

-- The colors of Marrakech
Marrakech is a puzzle made up of colorful pieces. Everywhere we go I see colors. The vibrant pointy traditional leather shoes, dry roses and herbs in tender shades of pink and green, the refreshing combination of bold yellow and blue in Jardin Majorelle, and even the salad dishes before our tajine dinner at Maison Bleue presented various assortment of colors.

-- Camel ride to Erg Chebbi

Erg Chebbi means the sand dunes of the man in bare foot. We take a camel ride around 3 PM towards to camp ground. By six, the sunset starts to change the colors of the sand. All over the dunes, there is a transition from dark copper red to light orange. Our caravan casts long skinny shadows of the camel legs into the valley of sand. To my happy surprise, camels don't smell at all. Through the blanket under me, I steal the warmth of my trustworthy ride since after sunset, it gets instantly chilly. I can feel the soft hair on my ankles when exposed between socks and pants. Feeling the bumpy sands and my camel's knees caving in whenever going downhill, I am thankful that I am not the one doing this hard work and amazed how our guides, little Mostafa and his grandpa can walk the whole time in sandals.

Welcome to my blog!

Never thought I would have my own blog but this may not be a bad idea to share my wanderlust with friends (travel maniacs) and "foes" (people who may potentially convert to travel maniacs). I will use this blog to document my love for travel and food.