Nik's Food Stall

After finishing up a traditionally hearty and filling Kelantanese breakfast of nasi (rice) and spicy chicken, my host cheerfully announced, "you're going to eat Kelantanese twice today. We're going to Nik's stall for lunch."

Well, my stomach groaned and said, "Are you insane?!" but the rest of me got excited right away. Nothing beats eating delicious Malaysian food cooked by my talented friends, so happily I followed along in pursuit of my next great meal 

^ Nik Hafiz, one of the famous Nik brothers whose parents gave them all the same first name, was just setting up his stall for the day as we rolled in. He quickly built an impressive cooking fire and got to work in the chicken. 

^ His sweet and pregnant wife set up most everything else. When I arrived, I found her sitting in the truck with the engine on and the AC blasting as she sliced cucumbers in the back seat. That's luxurious living for a hard-working stall owner. 

^ Kelantanese pots of delicious mystery. I never know exactly what's inside but I can count on enjoying it. 

^ After the initial rush of excitement, we sat down for the long, hard task of waiting for our lunch to cook. Four-year-old Aleesya and I entertained ourselves by making pictures with bits of dried leaves. 

^ And my host carefully monitored the social networks for any signs of disturbance in the Force. 

Eventually our plates were filled and we ate with abandon. The chicken was moist and flavorful; the rice comforting, the spices packed plenty of pow. Even if my protesting stomach was still full of breakfast, this was a meal to savor.

 ^ And the sweet black stay kitty who was presented with the leftovers heartily agreed.

Moving On To Malaysia

My little feeties on the ground in Saigon, Vietnam, where I changed planes for Malaysia.  Polka dot rocks? Yes, please. 

On Momday, June 2, after exactly two enjoyable weeks in Danang, Vietnam, I tossed most of my belongings into a suitcase, left a hunk of coral and a handful of tropical shells in my third-born's care, and boarded a plane for Kuala  Lumpur.   

I mean, as long as I'm in the Southeast Asian neighborhood of my Malaysians, it would be rude not to drop by, right? 

Right. 

As I write this, I'm already almost two weeks into my four-week visit here in Malaysia. Yep, I'm having a hard time keeping up with everything that is going on. 

But so it goes here on the other side of the planet. Life is a fire hose of adventures, adjustments, and  acclimations, and I am busy trying to drink my fill. 

Hoi An: City Of Light

After a long afternoon spent exploring the sunny streets and sparkling sands of Hoi An, our adventure was not over at sunset     

In fact, one might say that the party had just begun. 

Because when the sun goes down and the skies turn to shadow, the lights of Hoi An come alive. 

 

^ First to be noticed but hardest to capture are the delightfully abundant lanterns that decorate the city streets and buildings. Their effect is magical, and that's just plain fact. Photos don't do the scenes justice but these shots of lanterns displayed for sale help portray the general mood. 

 

^ The quiet waters of the Hoi An Ruver lend another dimension to the shining display. As we stopped at a cafe to share a slice each of coconut cake and chocolate cheesecake, our riverside view was intoxicating. As I sampled both deserts, I played with my camera and tried to decide which photographic effect I preferred. 

The verdict on both dilemmas?

It's all good. 

^  And as we wove our way through the narrow streets toward our motorbikes, we came across one more layer of lovely light. 

Two chubby-cheeked boys, probably six years old, dressed in traditional costumes, were eating bowls with chop sticks in front of these glowing luminaries.  

Now granted, the adorableness factor was carefully cultivated to separate us from our cash, and you know, it worked. We bought one of the candlelit luminaries and watched quietly as it traveled about five feet across the dark water and crashed into a fleet of other doomed luminaries. 

Far more satisfying was our long moonlit ride home. As the dark ocean breezes cooled me off, I reflected back on the day's sights and cherished my beautiful day in Hoi An, city of light. 

 

Hoi An: Golden Sand And Sky

After a happy afternoon spent exploring the yellow village of Hoi An, our little party of four jumped back on our motorbikes and headed to the local beach. Sharing the sands with seemingly half the population, of Vietnam, we ate a mind-blowing picnic of crispy Pringles and cold Dr Pepper, then wandered along the shore and snapped these golden photos. 

As the sun dropped toward the western horizon, I was hoping for a brilliant seaside sunset. 

 ^ But alas, this was the best that our vantage point could afford. 

So we gathered up our disappointment and our sandy shoes and drove our bikes back Into town.

Along the way, we crossed a narrow bridge over a channel of water and as I glanced to my right, my heart stopped beating. 

The sunset view was a golden glory. Desperately, I groped through my mind for a way to signal my companions ahead of me to stop for a photo. But I knew I was helpless to contact them and set my heart to be content with one last lingering gaze at the stunning scene. 

Imagine my surprise and delight when, at that very instant, I saw our leader, my daughter's boyfriend, make a quick merge, stopping his bike at the side of the bridge with plenty of room for the rest of us to join him.  

Our golden moment was captured in this sweet shot:

And this one, too. Thanks, Ky!

Hoi An: Yellow

Hoi An is a historic, picturesque and tourist-friendly town just a half hour south of Danang. It is also a gorgeous study in the color yellow. Feast your eyes. 

Banh Xeo: It's What's For Dinner

There is nothing I like better than to eat an authentic meal in the natural setting of another culture. 

 

And this Vietnamese feast of Banh Xeo - pronounced bon SAY-oh - is as legit as they come. I ate it on my first night In Danang and again after our trip to the Marble Mountains, and both experiences wre delicious and real. 

 

The first challenge is to find the place. The journey begins with the usual mind-boggling  series of twists and turns through the crowded streets of the city. Then we head down an alley.

Well, it starts out as a normal alley, by American standards. Wide enough for a car to traverse, with a little room to spare. But within a few dozen yards, this alley narrows, and then narrows again, until it seems that even my tiny motorbike will jam between its walls, hopelessly stuck forever. 

But of course, we somehow pass through and park our bikes...where? In the back corner of a minuscule kitchen. We step through a tiny doorway to find... a dining room.  A family dining room, jammed with small tables and chairs,  and on the wall, a painting of Jesus dressed up like a king. 

The first time we visit, in the late evening, the tables were hopelessy cluttered, the floor covered with litter and the whole room of questionable sanitary condition. The second time, when we arrive in mid-afternoon, the room was neat and clean. In any case, I survived both meals so there's that. 

As soon as we arrive, family members whisk bowls and plates to our table. Fresh greens, pickled mango, slices cucumbers, and a red sauce that smells of oeanuts, as shown above. 

Soon the warm components arrive. Wooden skewers of spicy pork sausage. And little yellow taco-shaped thingys. I later learn that these are egg crepes filled with cooked shrimp and veggies. 

We also receive a plate full of...thin sheets of paper. Or so it appears. These are actually the edible wrappers that form the foundation of the Banh Xeo deliciousness  I learn to build this yummy treat as follows:

Take two wrappers, and lay them in your hand so they assume the shape of a small and very thin tortilla. 

Lay one of the crepe thingys in the middle of the wrappers. 

Top the crepe with a sausage. Just lay it on there, skewer and all. Then grab the sausage with the hand that is holding this entire contraption and hold firm. Whith your free hand, grasp the skewer and wiggle it free. But don't throw it away. You pay for Banh Xeo by the empty skewer so it's important to keep an accurate count. 

Ok now relax your grip on the handful of food and sprinkle the top of your creation with any and all of the fresh trimmings. 

Now it's time to eat. Roll the wrapper to create a tidy and tiny burrito-like bundle, then dip it in the sauce before each bite  

Rest and repeat. 

I ate four without even trying.

Goodness, they are heavenly. 

So if you find yourself in Danang, Vietnam and hankering for a native treat, I recommend the Banh Xeo without reservation. 

I would take you there myself, if only I could remember the way. 

Ah-ah-ah ACHOO!!

I'm having a fabulous adventure here in Southeast Asia. After two interesting weeks in Danang, Vietnam, I hopped a plane bound for Kuala Lumpur and kicked off a four-week stay with my Malaysian friends. The first few days were a happy blur of friends, food, and familiar places, and I could not have asked for more. 

Then reality caught up with me  

In the form of a wicked virus that has had me coughing and sniffling, sore and feverish for the past five days. 

I'm slowly getting better but not gonna lie, this is a tough little strain. I've probably single-handedly created a continental shortage of tissue, and deprived everyone in a half-kilometer radius a solid's night sleep, due to all my coughing and hacking. 

But I'm still soldiering on. Nice try, evil Southeastasian virus, but you will never get the best of me.