Food post #1

Autumn has arrived and I'm so spoilt for choices, food-wise. The season brings tasty, easy, and inspiring ideas - whether sweet, savoury, rich or earthy; delicious fresh fruit and veg is one of the definite joys of autumn. We have pumpkins, figs, mushrooms, the crunchiest and sweetest apples, but I'm going to satisfy my hungry appetite with butternut squash! As its name suggests, this orange-fleshed squash has a creamy texture and nutty favour. Apparently it is most used in sweet dishes in the US (April, please confirm!), where is's often flavoured with cinnamon, nutmeg and maple syrup. 


Today I'm going to use this lovely orange thing in my salad for brunch. (Well, it's Sunday so you're not supposed to cook, or do anything anyway!!!). It's so easy to do, nutritious, takes only about half an hour of your time, and leaves you as well as your tummy happy :) 

Here's the recipe if any of you wants to try:

1 butternut squash (a large one to serve 4) peeled and chopped

1 red chilli, thinly sliced

handfuls of rocket leaves and mints 

1 ball of buffalo mozzarella 

and from your storecupboard: 

4 tbsp of extra-virgin olive oil

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

2 tbsp red/white wine vinegar

1tbsp honey

+ Toss the chopped squash in olive oil, season with a bit of salt and pepper. Then bake for about 20 mins or until golden at 170-190 degrees

+ Heat the extra-virgin olive oil in a pan, add garlic and chilli and cook til golden. Remove from the heat and pour in the vinegar and honey. Whisk well, set aside - this is your dressing. (I think it can be used for other types of salad as well, it smells and tastes great. So simple to do too!!!)

+ Transfer the warm squash into serving dishes lined with rocket. Sprinkle the mint, then pinch the mozzarella into small chunks and arrange over (this is the fun part! Rip rip rip!). 

+ Pour the warm dressing over the salad and serve

+ ENJOY!!! (yum!)  

H.N.

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Lines

H.N.

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Lost

The Italy trip saga continues…

Being hopeless romantics, N. and I had reserved our Tuscany stay at a local farm in Montepulciano, a 1.5-hour-drive from Florence. I had downloaded a GPS program on my phone for direction, prepaid for our rental car, and figured we were all set for a scenic drive between vineyards.  Ha ha ha. Right.

First of all, we drive automatics here in the States. Apparently, people drive manuals there in Italy. The only manual-car-driving experience N. had had was in a parking lot with our friend Will for a few hours ONCE. I had never driven manuals at all. We dutifully took instructions from a kind Italian man in the Florence parking lot.  The only Italian word we recognized from my piano-playing experience was, well, “Piano.” I expertly said to N. “I think that means “Soft.”” (It doesn’t. It means “slow” and “level.”). But whatever, he pressed ever so slightly on the gas,  as I whispered “Piano, piano, piano,” and onward we went.  N. could drive forward, backward, and stop with no problem. But occasionally when he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start again very quickly. And we would “stall” at every red light, while impatient Italian drivers honked at us.

I should probably also mention that for various reasons, we did not manage to leave Florence until 10 PM. By then, my phone, along with its handy dandy GPS system, had ran out of battery and died. Ok, no problem, I bought maps. But do you have any idea how bad I am at reading maps? Terrible. And do you know which language these maps were in? Italian. And do you know what else happened at 10 PM? Darkness. It wasn’t so bad inside Florence or on the autostrada, but once we were  in the countryside, it was complete and utter darkness.

So there you have it – him on his first stick-shift car, me with my Italian maps, in a country we had never visited. And whoever told you that “It is always darkest before dawn” failed to mention that actually, it is always darkest just before it goes… pitch black.

The drive was supposed to be 1.5 hours in the beautiful Tuscan countryside. I am sure it was gorgeous, but I wouldn’t be able to tell. And roughly 4.5 hours later (yes, it’s now 2:30 AM), we were still driving. My maps were getting rather useless, because there were no road signs for small streets between vineyards, at least not visible ones. Instead, there were fields and fields and fields for as far as I could see. And there was no one around to ask for help.

And then our car stopped. On a hill. And we couldn’t figure out how to start it again. And then it began to roll backwards. Did I mention the hill? Forget about “Piano.” We slammed on every pedal. The good news was that we were completely alone, so it was not as though we could run someone over. The bad news was that we were very slowly rolling backwards. It was only at the bottom of the hill that we got the momentum to start it again.

By around 3 AM, we were driving slowly along random roads, looking for every invisible sign, and stalling every time we stopped. And the local police pulled us over.

“Are you OK?” They asked. “You look like you are in trouble!”

I was so happy two human beings found us that I almost collapsed into the police’s arms. For all I cared, they could have put us in jail and it would still be better than this. At least in jail, there would be toilets.

But these were two of the nicest policemen. They did not know where our farm was located either, but they proceeded to radio their entire station, and they both got on their cell phones making various calls for directions. They then attempted to give me directions in a mixture of Italian and English. But they suddenly stopped and stared. I could see the unspoken thoughts running through their eyes – the realization that “these two dumbasses would never make it on their own.”

And so out of the kindness of their hearts, they declared the best 4 words I have ever heard, “We will take you!” to which we eagerly responded, “Amen.”

This is the part where N. proceeded to stall the car a few more times in front of the police (they kindly laughed), as they escorted us with blazing light and siren through the peaceful Tuscan country side at 3 AM. Yes, we are special :-). Thank you, thank you, thank you, Montepulciano police.

There is a happy ending. We arrived at the most gorgeous  place I have ever stayed in, with a beautiful  rustic bedroom, a Tuscan kitchen with olive oil, a living room with fresh flowers, and windows that opened onto hills and vineyards.

As our heads finally hit the pillows, N. said to me, “I cannot believe we just did that.” I smiled as I fell asleep in his arms, knowing that I would have gone with him anywhere – in travel or in life.

A.W.

For previous Italy Trip Reports, click here:
Four Coins in the Fountain
Under the Tuscan Sun

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The Master of Melancholy..

..that is Haruki Murakami – my most favourite author of all time. Today I flicked through his South of the Border, West of the Sun for the n^th time. I often do so when having nothing better to do, or being overwhelmed with a sense of getting lost in the vastness that is life. For those who like to sample the world’s finest literature, I bet Murakami is already a familiar name. He is best known for his epic Norwegian Wood, which I shall write about another day. Norwegian Wood was the first book of his that I read – a complete triumph of literature which left me hungry for more, at the same time wondering what he would be able to do for its encore.  

Being a hardcore fan of Murakami, I’ve so far read most of his books. South of the Border, West of the Sun is not a big novel, with only under 200 pages. But it is nevertheless a work of brilliant layers and depth. Although not as surreal as his other works (for instance, Hard-boiled Wonderland and The end of the World), it is a lot closer to our lives. Reading it we can relate, identify, and reflect, no matter what age we are at, whether it’s a mid-life crisis or a teenage love we are having.

The protagonist of South of the Border, West of the Sun is Hajime – his name literally means ‘the beginning’ in Japanese. On the face of it, the book tells a simple love story of him and his childhood friend Shimamoto. First met at elementary school, they were both only children, shared similar taste in music, and had affection for each other. But as with most childhood friendships, they grew apart. Years later, Hajime was a successful businessman who owned two jazz bars, married with two children. His life seemed complete, until Shimamoto reappeared. Hajime’s feelings for her were renewed and deepened, like they had never parted their ways in the first place. Before long they were involved in an affair that changed his life, her life and the lives of all others.

The plot is so weepily beautiful and haunting; it drained me for weeks after my first read. Hajime is the every one of us in this novel. The symbolic world he describes is so intense, yet unobtrusive it could almost be our own. And Shimamoto, always appears on quiet, rainy evenings, she is all that we want and cannot have.

My words slowly lost their strength and, like raindrops glued to the window, slowly parted company with reality. On rainy nights I could barely breathe. The rain twisted time and reality. 

When Shimamoto vapour for good, and when decision time came for Hajime: to go after her and be destroyed, or stay; this is how he felt:

All strength was drained from my body, as if someone had crept up behind me and silently pulled the plug. Both elbows on the table, I covered my face with my palms.
Inside that darkness, I saw rain falling on the sea. Rain softly falling on a vast sea, with no one there to see it. The rain strikes the surface of the sea, yet even the fish don't know it is raining. 
Until someone came and rested a hand lightly on my shoulder, my thoughts were of the sea. 

Similarly to Norwegian Wood, South of the Border, West of the Sun has its music elements. You cannot read it without the urge to listen to Nat King Cole’s track of the same title, or sink into the sea of romance that is Duke Ellington’s Star-crossed Lovers. When Hajime was young, he listened to South of the Border together with Shimamoto. Its prospects fascinated them both, made them think of something mysterious, ‘big, soft, and beautiful’. ‘West of the Sun’ is a more elusive phrase, meaning ‘hysteria siberiana’ - an illness affecting Siberian farmers overwhelmed by the distance in and the plains of Siberia, heading off "like someone possessed" for a land west of the sun.

There is no middle ground. Probably is a word you may find south of the border. But never, ever, west of the sun. 

The book is a reflection on time and loss. Not the loss of love, nor the loss of your loved ones, it portrays the loss of innocence and imagination. With time, we learn to leave behind our past, and move on, somewhat hesitantly, under the weight of life and of social responsibilities. 

H.N.

P.S.: Aren’t you thinking of rain falling on the sea right now?

P.P.S: Trying not to sound too pretentious, I shall eventually probably write about my top 5 art pieces of all time. This is a definite number 1. 


P.P.P.S: I love this book so much I made a playlist of the songs mentioned :) Enjoy! (Click on the links if you have Spotify). 

Rossini overtures
Pastorale – Beethoven
Peer Gynt Suite
Liszt piano concertos
Christmas songs – Bing Crosby

Pretend – Nat King Cole
South of the Border – Nat King Cole
Corcovado – Frank Sinatra
Star-crossed Lovers – Duke Ellington
Embraceable You – Nat King Cole
As time goes by – Nat King Cole

South of the Border West of the Sun (http link)

South of the Border West of the Sun (Spotify URI)

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Four coins in the Fountain

As promised (or more like, a mission entrusted by April that I couldn’t say no to!), here’s my bit on Rome. Don’t you worry; I’m not going to go on and on forever about its architecture, simply because although I’m a training architect I hardly ever have a clue what I should say on the topic. Most of the times I offer my biased and/or bizarre opinions, which are received with a certain level of scepticism. 

The highlight of the trip, and the sole purpose of us flying there from the UK, was to finally meet my very dear April and N. And what a pleasant time we had together! We shared an apartment at the central location of Via Cavour, a 5-minute stroll from Colosseum and the famous Palatine Hill area. We offered each other our sleepy smiles in the morning while the streets below got busy bathed in the golden sunlight of Rome. Kicked off our heels exhaustedly after a day of walking, we got to hug and kiss each other good night. Three nights and four days passed by like a wink! 

We walked the magical Fontana di Trevi to work up our appetite for dinner of best pastas and lovely wines. We gasped at the stunning view of Colosseum and the Forums. We claimed Pantheon as our own building, Bernini’s sculptures and fountains on Piazza Navona as our own sculptures. We had granite di cafes and lovely zucchini pizzas for afternoon snacks. We watched sunset from the Spanish steps, had our most delicious vegetarian dining experience. We drooled at windows of designers’ clothes and shoes, and sighed lovingly as our girls did so, respectively! We laughed together, cried together and together, we left a piece of our heart in Rome – not so much because of its grand architecture and impressive art masterpieces, but because of the warmth when being surrounded by our most beloved people. 

Rome’s buildings, you can’t NOT be impressed! No matter how much you’ve read about them, prepare yourselves for a pleasant surprise when you get to see them in real life. Pantheon – its diameter equivalent to its height – could hold a perfect sphere and was one of the first structures built in concrete. Its 43.2m dome had also once been the world’s most ambitious until Florence Cathedral was built in 15th century. St. Peter’s, designed by the one and only Michelangelo, took 120 years to build! Santa Maria della Pace never even got to the completion stage! St.Carlo Alle Quattro Fontane, its oval plan with pushed-out corners resemblances a Greek cross. The staircase between St.Peter’s and the papal apartments gets narrower as you go up, to change angles of light, creating an illusion of a longer staircase going on almost forever! The list of awesome Roman buildings is, indeed, endless! 

And last but not least, Fontana di Trevi stands almost 26m high – the largest fountain in Rome and probably the most famous in the whole world. With its free-standing columns, the central niche has water spilled from an urn in beautifully maximal light and shade. The legend says if you throw a coin into the fountain, you are ensured a return to Eternal City. So we each threw one, hoping not only for another trip back to this enchanting country, but also for another endeavour, another crossing of our paths somewhere soon on planet Earth. 

There they lie in the fountain 

Somewhere in the heart of Rome.

H.N.

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Lush

I posted my golden version of autumn not too long ago, here are the green and the red. Hope you all are having a gorgeous Sunday!

H.N.

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Under the Tuscan Sun

Here comes the promised trip report :-). I will let Hien tell you all about Rome - I already told you my highlight of it: meeting up with Hien and T. Oh, the Pantheon is pretty cool too, but being an architect, Hien can describe it much better than me. Other than that, Rome is everything you have read about and expect it to be.

On the morning of our 4th day in Italy, N. and I said our goodbyes to Hien and T, and took the train to Florence in the heart of Tuscany. Prior to our trip, I had read several photo-guide books and even watched 2 travel videos. As in Rome, I thought I would know what to expect.

But all the photos, videos, and descriptions in the world could not have possibly prepared me for the beauty that was Tuscany. That morning, as I stood on top of the bell tower in Florence, gazing at a city built entirely in red tiles around the most gorgeous Duomo, surrounded by the lush green of the rolling hills, all under the bluest sky and the golden Tuscan sun, I understood for the first time why Florence was the center of the Renaissance. I have never seen a place quite so beautiful.

Florence is a tiny city - you could walk from one end to the other in roughly 30 minutes - though it is filled with treasures that would take a lot longer to explore. In the Accademia of Florence stands the most famous sculpture in the world - Michelangelo's David. I admittedly don't know much about sculptures, but of all the gorgeous naked men I stare at in Italy, this one was the most anatomically detailed, a real eye-candy for biologists like me. Other than that, the first thing that caught my eyes was his gaze. The last thing I lingered on was his bottom. Hey David - nice ass!

We spent the rest of the day wandering the streets of Florence, visiting the Medici Palace (it's grand), eating the most delicious gelato we tasted in all of Italy, gobbling down cheese sandwiches next to the Duomo, checking out Italian leather, and tasting the famous Florentine Steak.

Around sunset, we crossed the medieval bridge Ponte Vecchio, soaking in the color and warmth of the Tuscan sun reflected by the Arno River. I quietly reached for my husband's hands, recognizing the familiar feelings of falling in love over and over again.


Next up: how we managed to get pulled over by the local police at 3 AM. 


A.W.

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Alien talk

Judge me all you want you ‘invisible peeps’ (what a term, I need to steal it from you April!), I have just finished watching a KOREAN DRAMA! Yes I do watch the occasional Asian drama, despite of my dislike of their girly plot with one-person-is-going-to-die twist. But this time it was a bit more special. For anyone who cares to give it a go, it’s called ‘My girlfriend is a Gumiho’ (i.e. nine-tailed fox from Korean folktales), about a guy called Dae-woong falling in love with a Gumiho named (guess what!) Mi-ho. They started off as a contracted couple, her needing him to take care of her fox bead for 100 days so that she can become a human, and him, well, doing that so she won’t eat his liver (eww). However there was this part of the tale neither of them knew about: if Mi-ho took the bead back on the 100th day, Dae-woong would die. 

To cut the story short, after a lot of you-need-to-keep-the-bead-and-live, and how-about-we-each-have-half-of-my-life, Mi-ho was about to die anyway due to some silly added rules (say, the energy of the human and the phantom blood that Mi-ho earlier had drunk had to mix well, etc. I know, they even came up with a freaking phantom!). And that was when I started to really love the drama.

As Mi-ho was disappearing from Dae-woong arms, she covered his eyes.
Dae-woong: Don’t go.
Mi-ho: Forget all the scary stuff. And remember me as a really really really really good dream.

Don’t cry just yet you ‘invisible peeps’. The plot resolved as she came back to life when there was a solar eclipse. Poking her cheek to see if she was real, Dae-woong said ‘It doesn’t matter if you’re a ghost, or a gumiho, or a person. It doesn’t matter. It’s enough that you’re in front of me. If you’re back, that’s enough’.

Forget all the supernatural folktales, I just simply LOVE Dae-woong’s declaration of love. He confessed to love her, no matter what she was. He loves her, for being her – no more, no less. This, I can say, even rivals the ultimate ‘Whether you’re a man, or an alien’ in ‘The 1st shop of Coffee Prince’ (another K-drama I love). The life-or-death choices actually worked well, because it was a symbol of their feeling for each other. The myth of Gumiho is a metaphor that drives the drama forward, while the characters get a chance to face their ultimate fear of death (not only their own, but also their beloved’s). And in fear, find the heart of hearts to challenge the universe, to sacrifice for their love and belief.

Love can not only move mountains, it also can make solar eclipses occur to give a girl a chance of crossing the cosmic divide and rejoining her man. That said, I hope you all out there don’t have to go through all that in order to find your true love! 

H.N.

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Long Time No See

Apologies for the long absence. N. and I just returned from our honeymoon, and are attempting to settle back into normal life. Hien has so graciously maintained this blog in my absence, and quite honestly, it looks much better without my ramblings to interrupt her wonderful artwork. So while I am sure none of you misses me, I did miss you “invisible peeps.” Over the next few days, I hope to share with you some details of our trip. But today, let me tell you about how this blog has changed.

You will recall that Hien and I had never met by the time we started this blog a few weeks ago. I was part anxious, part curious, part excited, and part terrified to meet her. What if she didn’t like me? After all, I tend to sound a lot better on paper (with the help of edit, undo, and redo) than in real life. What if I didn’t like her? The person I so adore could turn out to be merely a figment of my own imagination. The friendship we had built through the years is one of “long time no see.” And no matter how much communication we have had, a meeting in person seems a far truer, and rawer experience.

Thankfully, my worries were in vain. Hien is every bit as lovely in person – beautiful, kind, and talented. Even better, she didn’t seem to mind my craziness. We spent three wonderful days together, along with our significant others, talking about everything and nothing. As T. said in a shop when Hien and I were trying on shoes , “Surely, you don’t have the same shoe size too?”  We do, it’s 7.5. The key word there though is “too.” He and N. had spent a few days observing all other ways in which we bonded.

And so this blog is no longer about two friends who had curiously never met. It is rather  about all of us who would find a great deal of  similarity in our separate lives, wherever our paths may cross in this world. After all,  friendship and love are as timeless as the “Eternal City” of Rome.


A.W.

H.N.

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Grey skies are just clouds passing over*

H.N.

*Duke Ellington {my favourite jazz musician}

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.. that you love me.

H.N.

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Life pixilated

pixilated (adj)

   1 : somewhat unbalanced mentally; also: bemused

   2 : whimsical

pixelated (adj)

   1 : describes an image in which individual pixels are apparent to the naked eye

   2 : describes an image that has been converted from print to digitalised image

H.N.

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Reminiscing

I miss you! What can I do to make this a newyorknewyorkblogspot or cambridgecambridgeblogspot?  
'To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again.'

H.N.

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(Ho)liday/(Ho)neymoon!

H.N.

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FIRST TIME!!!

April is on her plane to Rome right now, with her beloved N.!!!
And I'm heading there tomorrow morning.
We will be meeting for the FIRST TIME! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I'm half excited half nervous.
We will keep you all posted on our 4-day trip in Rome - watch this space! 

H.N.

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