Hikes, villages and seafood

Clear Water Bay Country Park lies far to the West of Hong Kong.  It's not too hard to get to, but it seems like for the longest time to have been neglected as the rest of the Hong Kong continues to develop and grow.  Ed was going out for a hike and asked me to tag along.  I had nothing else to do that day so it seemed like a good chance to go and explore some more places I had never been.  Getting out there was fairly simple.  Like most of the hikes in Hong Kong, nothing is ever too far from some form of public transport or another.  A convenient ride on the MTR followed by a very short taxi was all that was needed and we were then walking through forests.  As we started the ascend, I started to smell an awful funk.  We all looked at one another with a bit of confusion and annoyance.  As we crested over a ridge, we saw the source of this foul smell, it was the remains of an old landfill that was still being dealt with for the new developments.  For the sake of the new residents, I hoped this would be dealt with before they moved in.

The hike was like most Hong Kong hikes.  The paths were well marked out, there was an abundance of views and lots of fellow hikers to pass on the trail.  At certain parts of this trail, there were some large rock formations perfect for climbing.  We both scrambled on top as some of the other older hikers laughed at our daring (or foolishness).  Most of the area we were hiking was quite narrow in a sense in that it was boarded by water on both sides.  It meant that with only a small amount of elevation, it became easy to look out far towards the water on both sides.  The weather wasn't amazing, but it still meant some lovely views.

As we finished up the hike, we started towards the old fishing village of Po Toi O.  It was a bit of a strange spot.  It seemed to be caught in the middle of competing worlds.  It was next to a golf course and some very expensive houses, so luxury cars seemed to be flying in and out the entire time.  Yet, this was also a traditional fishing village where locals were living a simpler life away from the intense and busy life of Hong Kong

We walked along the road and into the village itself.  We found ourselves a table at one of the local restaurants and we ordered some lunch.  The table was soon covered with different dishes and we ate our fill after the exertions of the hike.

It was a nice way to finish up.  It was a relaxing end to the day, out of the sun and comforted by the cool breeze.  The village felt dilapidated, but it all seemed to add to the vibe of the place, far away and cut off from the rest of Hong Kong.

Old and preserved

Renee and I caught the train between Rome and Florence.  It was clean and very comfortable.  The old cliche about Italian trains being late didn't seem true and the trip went off without any hitch or delay.  It was a clean and modern train and the seats were comfortable.  I was looking forward to this trip as well, just for the opportunity to see more of Italy and to be able to gaze out at the countryside.  

In Florence, we immediately set off to the car rental agency.  I had decided that driving to our next location was the best approach.  I had heard many stories of the dangers of driving on Italian roads, so I had made the decision with some slight trepidation.  I had my reasons though, I wanted a bit more control and the thought of being able to stop whenever and wherever I wanted was particularly appealing.

As I went through the administrative steps of getting the car, I started to chat with the girl who was helping us.  I asked her on her thoughts about where we could stop on the way to our destination.  Her immediate response was "Lucca".  She lived in Lucca.  It was close, almost midway to where we were going, and it was beautiful.  I was sold.  She even gave me a recommendation on where I could park my car cheaply outside of the old town.

The drive was pleasant as we sped through the Tuscan countryside.  It was all highway driving, so nothing interesting or dangerous for me.  I was luckily familiar with driving on this side of the road after my North American adventures, and the dangers of Italian drivers seemed to have been vastly oversold.  After less than an hour I could see the signs to "Lucca".  I took the exits and followed the directors to our parking.  On the outskirts of the town, it felt a bit dead and decaying.  Besides the car park attendant, the entire area seemed to be completely empty, with even the shops and cafes in the area all closed.

We walked the short distance to the old town, where we were confronted by the enormous and imposing walls of Lucca.  Inside, we found a beautifully preserved old town, full of towers, churches and lanes.

The most famous of all the towns had a small garden at the top.  We climbed the stairs to the top, and looked out at the lovely town.  The town had a cosy and intimate feel to it.  Its small size and narrow streets made it a perfect destination to explore whilst walking.  It's close distance to Florence was also ideal for us as a stop, but I wasn't sure if I would spend too much more than a day here unless it was to use as a base to visit the region further.

It was a strange feeling being in the town itself though.  We were very much in the middle of the tourist season, but even though Lucca felt well maintained, it still felt relatively empty.  The shops were only partly full, there weren't many people on the streets, and when we walked further out to the edges of the town, we found ourselves completely alone.  

Even inside some of the old churches we visited, there was no one at all.  No attendants, no caretakers, no visitors.  Just us, alone in the old building.

The dream that was Rome

I have long maintained that there are reasons for the popularity of tourist destinations.  When I was younger, I was much more eager to walk the less trodden path.  I felt the need as a part of a yearning for more adventure and there was also the youthful exuberance towards the different and unique.  Traveling to strange and unique places seemed to lend itself to that desire for a more unique experience and it also certainly provided a personal sense that I was in a way different myself.  Whether any of this was true doesn't matter so much now, I enjoyed the travel immensely and it took me to places I never would have otherwise visited.

Being in Rome with Renee seemed to be the antithesis of the less trodden path that I had once sought.

This was one of the great tourist destinations of the world, filled with visitors of all types and ages from across the world.  When people think of dream places to visit, this would surely be high on the list.  So it was here I found myself.  Just as the high season was about to start.  Being here with Renee was already special and being able to see her was in and of itself joyous, but I was also exited about the city itself.  After our initial reunion, we set out to be tourists.  This felt odd.  I felt less like a "traveler" now.  I felt like a real tourist, even though the reality was that I was always a tourist.  It didn't feel alien or uncomfortable.  If anything, I was quite excited.  We arrived at the Colosseum and both marvelled at the size and scale of it all.  Memories of film and images filled my mind.  Everything from histories through to romances and adventures, this seemed to have been any and all genre.  I loved being there.

As part of the tickets I bought, we also had free access to the Forum included.  With our walk around the Colosseum finished, we moved over to the Forum and found that we even had a shorter line to get in.

I found it all even more amazing than the Colosseum.  

This was the focus and centre of life in the ancient city of Rome.  This was where everything I read growing up had happened.  It was where Caeser stood and spoke, where Marc Antony made his impassioned pleas, where the emperors had come afterwards to impose their will.  The sun was beating down.  Renee went to hide for a while in the shade whilst I kept walking.

We walked into the Monti district for a quick lunch.  It wasn't too far from the Forum so it was probably frequented heavily by tourists, and yet I still thought it was a lovely place to eat.  We sat outside, enjoying the warm weather and the relaxed atmosphere.  Renee was struggling with her dress, so we found a nearby pharmacy to buy some safety pins for her to do some running repairs.  I checked my watch and noticed it was still early.  During my research on visiting Rome, I had read about the famous Villa Borghese.  We didn't have a booking, but apparently the pass we had could be used to include the villa as one of the free entries. I thought we would risk it.  I flagged a taxi for us and soon we were at the other side of Rome.  We walked into the grand villa and towards the front desk.  The attendant told us that they were sold out.  Then with a smile, he mentioned that there had been a cancellation for a spot in half an hour... would we be interested?  We laughed and kindly accepted his offer of the spots!

Inside, we were both overawed by the incredible beauty of the art on display.  This was what I had been expecting when I thought of the grandeur and splendour of Italian culture.  The building itself was impressively ornate, but it was the enormous collection of paintings and statues that was the most impressive.

It was the first time I had seen any Bernini statues up close and in person.  The delicate beauty of each statue was indeed breath taking.  There was an intricacy and detail in each piece that you can only properly see in person.

Along with the incredible paintings, many of which are by Caravaggio, we were both enthralled in room after room.

It was all a bit much for Renee.  The jetlag was taking a toll on both of us, but she was feeling it a bit more than me coming from North America.  The old adage of "West is best, East is a beast" was hitting hard as she struggled to adjust to the change in timezones.  We had to leave to find some rest before we went out again.

The Eternal City

Renee and I were meeting in Rome.  It was close enough to halfway between us, so it was an ideal location.  I had only been to Italy once for work, and that was up in Milan.  This wasn't going to be work.  Instead, this was going to be a real holiday.  I was incredibly excited about it, not just because I wanted to see Renee, but also because I had always wanted to go to Rome and to see more of Italy.

I arrived at the airport in Rome early in the morning. It would still be a few hours before Renee arrived, so rather than head into the city I decided to stay at the airport and wait for her.  I found myself a lounge that offered wifi and started to work.  Time went by quickly and soon it was time for Renee to arrive.  The long distances between us were tough and any time we could see each other was a joy.  We hopped on the train and we were soon in Rome.  After a brief dispute with our taxi driver, we were checked into our hotel and wandering through the streets.

It was all far more beautiful than I imagined.

Rome was a place I had always wanted to visit.  As a child who was always obsessed with history, there are few places in the world that can compare when it comes to historical significance (places being in the Middle East of course immediately coming to mind though).  Walking around Piazza Navona, we we both looked up and around at all the lovely buildings with nothing but the deepest admiration.  We walked inside the churches and were amazed even more.  We were both horribly jetlagged, but it didn't seem to matter at all.  We had an additional rush of energy, not just from being together, but from the surroundings themselves.

I had of course been to Italy before, but that was to Milan.  This was an entirely different league.

There was an opulence and size to everything which I had never experienced before.  I now understood very clearly why people were so dismissive of Milan when I told them that I was going.  For me, any trip to Italy was something to be savoured.  When I was in Milan, I thought it was a beautiful place, full of interesting sights and experiences.

But it was no Rome.

In comparison to Rome, Milan was just any other city with a few points of attraction.  Walking through the streets of Rome, it was difficult to go anywhere that didn't feel special.  Every street, every turn, every corner was a point of beauty and history.  For all of the wonderful things in Milan, it just couldn't compete with this.  What could compete with this?  Milan wasn't a bad place by any means, it was clear that it merely suffered from the comparison.

We left Piazza Navona and walked towards the Pantheon.  This was something I had wanted to see since I was a kid.  I had loved reading about Julius and Augustus Caeser, so the idea of seeing something from their time was exciting.  The Pantheon stood out square and tall amongst the surrounding buildings.  With the Roman low rises surrounding it, this was still an imposing structure that wasn't overshadowed or dwarfed by any nearby modern constructions.

Inside, I truly had my breath taken away.  The size of the dome and the light that came in made me feel like I had stepped into another time.  There was a din of noise from all of the other visitors, but it was all absorbed in a way by the building into a consistent murmur.  We walked several loops of the building, our eyes transfixed upwards at the light and the dome.  

We were both amazed and enamoured with Rome.  It had been less than a day of walking through the city, but there seemed to be surprises and beauty on every street and around every corner.  Could I say that it was "magical"?  It seemed like such a hackneyed thing to say, but it seemed like such an apt description for this wonderful city.  As the sun began to set and the evening began, we made our way back to some busier areas to look for dinner.  There were tables and chairs out everywhere, with each restaurant expanding out into the public areas.

We found ourselves a place that look inviting and sat down to eat.  We were both exhausted.  I can barely remember what I ate, but I was satisfied and happy.  We were together in a city half way around the world and it was beautiful.

Cheesy Hong Kong

I love raclette.

Grilled cheese is always great, but the combination of the grilled raclette cheese with pickles and meat is amazing.  I remember being introduced to raclette by my friends in Switzerland and I had become immediately hooked.

Charlotte had booked a raclette dinner, but Joe had been called away on a business trip.  I was therefore more than happy to jump in and take his place.

The raclette dinner was in a cheese and wine shop in the middle of Sheung Wan.

They had set up an upstairs area for people to get their plates of the grilled goodness.  It felt a bit strange to be eating this in Hong Kong, but I certainly wasn't complaining.

Madmoiselle Prive

Hong Kong is not the cultural wonderland that I hoped it would be.

I have enjoyed my time here, but I have not found it to be the centre of art which I expected.

What I have discovered though is that there is a level of "private" art and culture which is usually harder to access.  There are numerous private galleries and there are annual events, all of which are catered towards the sale and purchase of art.  I shouldn't have been surprised by this given Hong Kong is a city which caters to the rich and the privileged.

With all of that in mind, it wasn't entirely surprising that one of the best exhibitions I had seen in a while was actually a private event which was set up by the fashion house Chanel.

Chanel had taken over a large area in PMQ and set up a private event to display some of their most iconic designs.

The exhibition was put together like a guided walk, as you navigated your way through darkened hallways and through rooms filled with clothes and multimedia displays.

I'm sure the intention of it all was to create a journey for the visitors.

I'm not sure what story it was trying to tell, but there was definitely a journey as you wandered from each of the locations to the next.

There was a little bit of Alice in Wonderland to it all (which seems to be what designers and story tellers constantly refer back to these days), but it didn't make it less enjoyable.

It was still the designs though that were the star.  Each piece was a lovely design.  Each chosen for the incredible detail that you could see was involved in not only its conception, but also it's creation.

Amazing soba

I was pinching myself a little.  One of the favourite segments in Bourdain's shows had been when he had introduced the world to the brilliant soba master Tatsuru Rai.  Watching him slowly and skillfully make soba, I was entranced and amazed.  To be able to experience something so close to perfection seemed to be unattainable and so I left it as nothing more than a dream.

Yet here I was.

I was walking done the snow covered path leading to Tatsuru Rai's small restaurant, the famous Rakuichi.  Even walking through the snow covered path felt dream like, everything shone and sparkled under the lights, a crisp and perfect white.  From the moment we got out of the cab, there seemed to be a sense that we were entering into a different a protected little world.  The gate was surrounded by high drifts of snow and it created a long snow cavern for us to walk through.

Once we reached the other side, the small and quaint little restaurant waited at the end of the path.  It seemed almost like out of a fairy tale.  The snow sat delicately on the roof and on the branches of the trees.  There was a thick covering on the ground.  The door waited for us to enter.

Once inside, we took off our shoes and jackets in the genkan.  We were lucky to have to been able to get a last minute cancellation booking and we were even seated at the counter table.  It was a prime spot that let us watch as the chef prepared the food.  I didn't know what to expect other than the soba, so I was very happily surprised to find that to soba only formed one course in an entire meal showcasing the chef's skills.

Each course was presented beautifully, each like a work of art.  I have often listened to people to people describing food as art.  It's hard not to roll your eyes at times with such flowery and over the top language.  Here, I didn't feel any such disdain and I looked at the care and thoughtfulness of each dish as being a true demonstration of a craftsman at the height of his skills. 

 

The second last course was a shabu shabu of pork.  After the delicately plated dishes, it seemed that we were moving away from that approach and towards more hearty food.  It was comforting and warming.  The small flame and the hot broth in front of me, as we leaned over and dipped the thinly sliced meat in to be cooked.  It felt like the ideal type of food to enjoy in these cold surroundings.

With these dishes now all served, Master Rai began working on the soba, the reason we were all at this restaurant.  He worked meticulously and efficiently.  The mounds of buckwheat flour, slowly being transformed into a rough dough, and then into an ever smoother dough.  He moved from the large tub to the work bench and started rolling in earnest.  Behind him was a selection of rolling pins.  He switched back and forth between these, diligently sculpting the dough into a perfectly consistent and ever expanding disk.

The kneading and rolling was almost rhythmic.  Master Rai didn't seem rushed, and he remained focused entirely on what was in front of him.  He lay down one rolling pin and picked up another as he began to thin out the dough into a sheet in preparation for making the long strands of soba.  As he dragged and folded the long sheet of dough, it sounded more like a thick sheet of fabric dragging on a bench.  There was a satisfying sweep with every turn and every layer he created.  Eventually, he was left with a large pad.  Dozens of layers, folded over one another.  The shape was uniform in length and width.  Thinking about the sounds, it seemed like he had taken a quilt and folded it up, ready to be packed away.  Instead, he brought out his long knife and a guide board and began to slice the individual strands of soba.  Everyone in the restaurant looked on with amazement and awe.  The thick dough was now being transformed into the soba we had all come to enjoy.  Each stroke of the knife came with a satisfying knock on the work bench.  He finished the work, lifted the soba in bunches, dusted them in flour and shook them as he placed them on a wide basket to be taken away to be cooked.

Earlier in the meal, I had been asked whether I wanted my soba hot or cold.  The traditional way is to eat the soba cold with a dipping sauce.  Given this was my first time eating Master Rai's soba, I felt the only appropriate way to eat this would be cold.  The plate was brought out in front of me with the sauce on the side.  It looked simple.  It was simple.  It was probably the plainest and simplest of all the dishes that had been served to me this evening.  Yet, when I ate it, I immediately understood why this was the reason I had come.  The soba was the perfect combination of soft and chewy.  The flavour of the buckwheat was earthy and satisfying.  I had never had better and I knew that I never would.

I was completely satisfied.  When you place such high hopes and expectations in a place, they normally let you down.  It's not surprising.  How often can something or somewhere be as great or amazing as the lofty heights we set in our minds?  Yet here was something special.  This was a place that was everything I had hoped it to be.  I knew I was fortunate for this opportunity and I was thankful to have been able to experience the work of a true master.

The hearth

So it turns out many of the best food spots in Sapporo are located in the red light district.... I guess it makes sense, they're just catering to people who have worked up an appetite!

Merissa and I were enjoying our holiday in Sapporo.  Everything was covered in white snow and the city glistened at night.  We were looking for dinner and google maps took us further and further into the red light district.  It wasn't exactly a difficult or shocking path we took.  It seems like the red light district of Sapporo is integrated into large parts of the city centre and almost unavoidable if you live in Sapporo.  We found several extremely expensive seafood restaurants that we decided against and considered going back to ramen alley.  As we walked past one of the prettiest Japanese girls I have ever seen (whom I can only assume was working, given she was standing around on a street corner looking at all the guys seductively), we saw an incredibly old looking building.  With the more modern buildings around, this was an old wooden building that seemed completely out of place amongst its surroundings.  We were hungry and looking for dinner.  I wandered up closely to the old building out of curiosity, and saw that it had a menu at the front.  

It turns out this was an old robatayaki restaurant.  Not just any robatayaki restaurant either, it was the oldest one in Sapporo.  It was an accidental discovery by us, but what an incredible find it was.

Inside, decades of smoke had left its mark. The walls and roof were covered in a thick and dark layer of black soot.  There was an unavoidable smell of smoke, and the whole place felt old in both a charmingly rustic way, as well as in a decrepit way.  At the hearth in the middle of the restaurant, there were old ladies who were carefully tending to the dishes being cooked.  We were sat down and began ordering.  We were novices, so we took recommendations as well as looking at what others were ordering.  Everything that arrived was incredible.  It was as expected, seafood heavy, but cooked with care and the rich smoky flavour you would expect in a place like this.  Most surprising was the smoked fish that we ordered.  It looked dried out, with each fish hanging from the rafters.  They took each fish down and grilled it on the fire, and somehow this smoked and grilled fish still retained a lovely moistness to it.  

We left the restaurant full and content.  The streets off to the side of the main roads and streets were treacherous and icy.  The main streets had underground heating which kept the ice melted, but here we got a better understanding of just how cold it was.  We slid around, trying our best to not fall as we moved back towards the safety of the heated roads.

Sapporo was lovely at night.  The lights shone bright in the city as buildings were illuminated and people rushed from eatery to eatery.

A great little city

We were in Sapporo for a few days.  We were on our way to Niseko to ski, but we thought we would give this northern city some time.  I didn't know much about the place, but it seemed like an ideal opportunity to explore before we started skiing.

It was a great decision and I wish we had stayed longer.

I started off the first morning by going for a run.  It didn't seem "that" cold, and so I put on a t shirt and shorts and jogged out of the hotel as Merissa continued to sleep.  The staff gave me a strange look as a wandered out but I thought nothing much of it.  After the first lap of the main park area, I started to realise my mistake.  It was far colder than I realised and no amount of running was going to change that.  I ran back around back towards the hotel and quickly inside.

The rest of the trip in Sapporo went much better.

It was a compact city.  Easily accessible, with all the attractions and sights all within close proximity. 

There was also a loveliness to the place.  Maybe it was the snow, but I felt it was more than that.  It seemed to have all the wonder and uniqueness that you would expect in Japan, but the whole vibe of the place was far more laidback and friendly.  It was still a "big" city, but it certainly didn't feel like Tokyo.

From the high up locations, we looked out across the snow covered city.  It only took us a few days, but we were able to get a good and happy impression of this place.

One additional bonus was that the food in the city was fantastic.  All of the usual Japanese favourites were on offer, but there was an additional Hokkaido twist that made the meals seem a bit more wholesome and rustic.  The ramens were richer and heartier, with knobs of butter thrown in.  The grilled meats at the robatayakis were smokier and far rougher than any of the polished yakiniku or yakitori places that most people were accustomed to.

The fact that all of the best eateries also seemed to be in the red light district only added to strange sense of hilarity of this great little city.

Ocean Baths

Any trip back to Newcastle should involve lots of time spent as close to the water as possible.

For all of the fame that the beaches of Sydney have, I think that the Newcastle beaches are better.

The coastline is long and barely touched, with only a fraction of the crowds that Sydney has.

However, the true jewels of this area would be the ocean baths.

There are plenty of ocean baths in Sydney, but again, the Newcastle ones are just better.  They are bigger, they are better maintained, and they seem to jut out into the ocean in a way that gives you a far more awe inspiring view of the huge expanse of the Pacific. 

At the entrance to the Newcastle City baths is an old colonial style building.  Inside you can get drinks and food.  It reminds me of the canteens and tuck shops at the public swimming pools I would go to when I was growing up in Melbourne.  Those days were always highlights growing up, as us kids ran amok inside whilst the parents sat around on the benches watching us play.  It was a different lifestyle in Melbourne, with none of these open air baths.

As I sat on the edge watching the water after my own swim.  A huge wave came surging over the edge of the baths and the water came sweeping over the side of the pool.  I dipped my feet in and walked around a bit, feeling the surge of the water pushing me around.

These baths are special places.  Always a highlight of any visit and easily my favourite part of Newcastle.