Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Blog Indonesia
I'm having trouble getting this blog to show up on Blog Indonesia, so this is just a test. Tomorrow there'll be some thoughts on my recent trip to Jakarta.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Another list - food
More favorites today. I’m not a big food person. I eat to live not the other way around, but occasionally there have been meals that remain with me even today.
Here are some of my favorites. And like yesterday in no particular order.
1. A Chinese place on the edge of North Beach and China Town in San Francisco. They had incredible food that I still remember even though the last time that I was there was 1989. I was particularly fond of the prawns.
2. A place just off of Orchard Road in Singapore in an outdoor food court kind of setup. They had this prawn dish with greens and lots of chillis. It was wonderful. My wife makes an identical one now that I love just as much. More actually because I don’t have to go to Singapore to eat it.
3. A little Mexican grocery store across the street from my apartment on Armitage Avenue circa the mid-70s. They had these great burritos that were incredible and cheap. I’d have two every Saturday morning after my ex picked up my son for the weekend.
4. The Hungarian Goulash at the Red Baron in Chicago in the mid-70s.
5. The Chicago style hot dogs that I used to buy from a cart just off campus when I was a student at U of I.
6. Uno’s deep dish pizza – the original. There was nothing like it.
7. Any seafood dish that my wife makes. Her steak cutlets come right after that.
8. The Jambalaya at Bourbon Street Restaurant in Bangkok. Spicy and filling. They make a pretty good pizza as well.
9. The Chicken Tikka in the Diamond Market in Lahore, Pakistan. It would have been even better with a few cold beers. Mix the tikka with some nan and it was heaven.
10. Jimmy, my cook in Pakistans, spicy meatballs with nan. I had these once a week for the last year that I lived in Pakistan and I always looked forward to having it.
11. Novi’s beef sandwiches with green peppers. Slightly greasy and delicious. Novi’s was an Italian beef place that I worked at in the 60s.
12. White Castle hamburgers at 3:30 on a Sunday morning before I used to do my shift at the News Agency during my teen years.
13. The stir-fried shrimp from this sidewalk restaurant in Singapore just outside of Chinatown. Some of the most succulent that I’ve ever had.
14. The stir-fried shrimp from a Chinese restaurant across the road from Washington State University in Pullman. Enormous portions for almost nothing. Perfect with two ice cold beers.
15. My mother’s dumplings. Perfect. I could eat them for hours. Mixed with bacon and hot dogs.
Here are some of my favorites. And like yesterday in no particular order.
1. A Chinese place on the edge of North Beach and China Town in San Francisco. They had incredible food that I still remember even though the last time that I was there was 1989. I was particularly fond of the prawns.
2. A place just off of Orchard Road in Singapore in an outdoor food court kind of setup. They had this prawn dish with greens and lots of chillis. It was wonderful. My wife makes an identical one now that I love just as much. More actually because I don’t have to go to Singapore to eat it.
3. A little Mexican grocery store across the street from my apartment on Armitage Avenue circa the mid-70s. They had these great burritos that were incredible and cheap. I’d have two every Saturday morning after my ex picked up my son for the weekend.
4. The Hungarian Goulash at the Red Baron in Chicago in the mid-70s.
5. The Chicago style hot dogs that I used to buy from a cart just off campus when I was a student at U of I.
6. Uno’s deep dish pizza – the original. There was nothing like it.
7. Any seafood dish that my wife makes. Her steak cutlets come right after that.
8. The Jambalaya at Bourbon Street Restaurant in Bangkok. Spicy and filling. They make a pretty good pizza as well.
9. The Chicken Tikka in the Diamond Market in Lahore, Pakistan. It would have been even better with a few cold beers. Mix the tikka with some nan and it was heaven.
10. Jimmy, my cook in Pakistans, spicy meatballs with nan. I had these once a week for the last year that I lived in Pakistan and I always looked forward to having it.
11. Novi’s beef sandwiches with green peppers. Slightly greasy and delicious. Novi’s was an Italian beef place that I worked at in the 60s.
12. White Castle hamburgers at 3:30 on a Sunday morning before I used to do my shift at the News Agency during my teen years.
13. The stir-fried shrimp from this sidewalk restaurant in Singapore just outside of Chinatown. Some of the most succulent that I’ve ever had.
14. The stir-fried shrimp from a Chinese restaurant across the road from Washington State University in Pullman. Enormous portions for almost nothing. Perfect with two ice cold beers.
15. My mother’s dumplings. Perfect. I could eat them for hours. Mixed with bacon and hot dogs.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Water
Water. The overwhelming importance of water really becomes clear at this time of the year. With the rainy season still to come here, we are going through another year of severe water shortages. We’ve been lucky to get a trickle inside the house most evenings over the past seven weeks. Several times we’ve gone two or three days with absolutely no water, and most of the time, we have to fill up pots and pans in the front yard and use them to fill up the bathtubs and sinks. My wife has been doing laundry in the river across the road. The floors haven’t been washed in weeks. I regularly go without a bath during the weekends so that the kids have enough water to wash before they go to school. I’ve gotten used to be grubby all weekend. The plants in our garden are beginning to die, and we struggle to keep our many animals supplied with water. With all this in mind, I just happened to catch an interview on Asia Talk with the rapper Jay-Z. He’s involved in working to be clean water to poor countries. It was interesting to hear him talk about the fundamental importance of water. As difficult as our water problems have made our lives over the past seven weeks, we’re fortunate enough to have the money to buy bottled water to drink. I can only imagine what it’s like for people who have our water problems and aren’t able to obtain drinking water.
I’m going to be doing some research on water over the next few weeks and see what I can come up with.
I’m going to be doing some research on water over the next few weeks and see what I can come up with.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Lists- Favorite bars around the world
Lists of favorite things. Most people have them. This has been one of those periods in my life when I just start wondering about things in the past.
Here are some of my favorites. We’ll start with bars – in no particular order.
1. Billy Goat – when I drank there in the 70s it was just a little hole in the wall institution that was immortalized by John Belushi’s Saturday Night Live skits. Back then, it was just a place that Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times workers used as a place to have a few drinks at lunch or after a shift. It was unpretentious and quirky. I ate a lot of cheese and egg sandwiches there over the years.
2. Oxford Pub – a place on Lincoln Avenue that was popular with the artsy crowd during the 70s when I lived in Lincoln Park in Chicago. It was a fairly big place with decent food. It was a 4 am bar so when the 2 o’clock places closed, everyone gathered there.
3. The Red Baron – just a few doors up from Oxford’s. It was a smaller place run by a German, Herbie. It was my favorite place for years partly because I lived across the street, and partly because Herbie made this great Hungarian Goulash. It had an odd assortment of folks who hung out there.
4. Weiss’s – another Lincoln Avenue bar from the same period. It was right on the corner and fairly big. I used it as the place for a few hard-boiled egg breakfasts when I was working the night shift at the Tribune and going to U of I during the day.
5. Biu – a small open bar in the Lovina area of North Bali. The owner, Ngurah, was friendly and an excellent host. He’d get tourists together and have these impromptu parties. The only place in the north that had Bintang on tap. He kept a bottle of scotch hidden in the back for me.
6. A place on Orchard Road just south of the Hyatt. I never knew what it was called, and it was mostly a place to eat, but they had a bar where I’d sit and watch the folks walking down Orchard Road while listening to the Singlish of the staff.
7. The Timika Yacht and Swim Club – I was the Vice-President and spent a lot of time there during the years that I lived in Papua. It was in the jungle and that made it all worth it.
8. The old smoking bar in Don Muang International Airport in Bangkok. It was a haven for me during the years that I lived in Pakistan. I’d do a Saturday morning transit and sit there for an hour or so and suck up four double scotches at 7 in the morning while chain-smoking Marlboros before my flight back to Bali. I met some interesting folks there.
9. Larry Blakes on Telegraph in Berkeley, California. It had two floors; the ground floor was a restaurant and the bottom was the actual bar. I hung out there during my Berkeley days. There were many times when I stopped by for a hamburger, a beer and three or four shots of scotch before heading off to Anthro 240. I just checked the internet and found that it has been changed a bit from the old days, but then so is most everything.
10. Sri Homestay – actually a restaurant in Anturan, Bali. I drank there for years, occasionally having something to eat, under the watchful eyes of Ibu Sri. My drink of choice there was Three Star arak along with Bintang beer.
Here are some of my favorites. We’ll start with bars – in no particular order.
1. Billy Goat – when I drank there in the 70s it was just a little hole in the wall institution that was immortalized by John Belushi’s Saturday Night Live skits. Back then, it was just a place that Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times workers used as a place to have a few drinks at lunch or after a shift. It was unpretentious and quirky. I ate a lot of cheese and egg sandwiches there over the years.
2. Oxford Pub – a place on Lincoln Avenue that was popular with the artsy crowd during the 70s when I lived in Lincoln Park in Chicago. It was a fairly big place with decent food. It was a 4 am bar so when the 2 o’clock places closed, everyone gathered there.
3. The Red Baron – just a few doors up from Oxford’s. It was a smaller place run by a German, Herbie. It was my favorite place for years partly because I lived across the street, and partly because Herbie made this great Hungarian Goulash. It had an odd assortment of folks who hung out there.
4. Weiss’s – another Lincoln Avenue bar from the same period. It was right on the corner and fairly big. I used it as the place for a few hard-boiled egg breakfasts when I was working the night shift at the Tribune and going to U of I during the day.
5. Biu – a small open bar in the Lovina area of North Bali. The owner, Ngurah, was friendly and an excellent host. He’d get tourists together and have these impromptu parties. The only place in the north that had Bintang on tap. He kept a bottle of scotch hidden in the back for me.
6. A place on Orchard Road just south of the Hyatt. I never knew what it was called, and it was mostly a place to eat, but they had a bar where I’d sit and watch the folks walking down Orchard Road while listening to the Singlish of the staff.
7. The Timika Yacht and Swim Club – I was the Vice-President and spent a lot of time there during the years that I lived in Papua. It was in the jungle and that made it all worth it.
8. The old smoking bar in Don Muang International Airport in Bangkok. It was a haven for me during the years that I lived in Pakistan. I’d do a Saturday morning transit and sit there for an hour or so and suck up four double scotches at 7 in the morning while chain-smoking Marlboros before my flight back to Bali. I met some interesting folks there.
9. Larry Blakes on Telegraph in Berkeley, California. It had two floors; the ground floor was a restaurant and the bottom was the actual bar. I hung out there during my Berkeley days. There were many times when I stopped by for a hamburger, a beer and three or four shots of scotch before heading off to Anthro 240. I just checked the internet and found that it has been changed a bit from the old days, but then so is most everything.
10. Sri Homestay – actually a restaurant in Anturan, Bali. I drank there for years, occasionally having something to eat, under the watchful eyes of Ibu Sri. My drink of choice there was Three Star arak along with Bintang beer.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Blog Indonesia
Since I've switched to the Beta version of blogger, my new posts are not showing up in Blog Indonesia. If anyone has any ideas about this, I'd be happy to hear why its happening.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Another face change
I decided to switch to the beta version of blogger and have yet another face change. Actually, the popcorn graphic was driving me crazy even though I liked the color scheme. The beta version seems, at first glance, to be easy to work with.
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Return Home - Conclusion
2:45 P.M. Our little group climbs aboard the bus. I’m given the front seat possibly as a sign of respect for my age, possibly because I’m the only foreigner on the bus, possibly because it has the least legroom. Just as we’re about to depart, an old man climbs aboard clutching his two chickens tied together by their legs. Well, I’ve made my peace with bird flu worries so our new addition is welcomed as far as I’m concerned. He has a good laugh when he sees me scrunched up in the front seat.
2:50 P.M. We pull off the road into a dusty parking lot in front of a small bengkel. Pak John and the boy get out and pump up the tires. I lean out the window and watch the operation, giving my sign of approval when they’ve finished. Everyone laughs. At least, I’m providing some amusement for my fellow passengers; they’ll all have a good story to tell the family at home this afternoon. It’s a lovely day with clear blue skies, and I’m looking forward to the drive along the coast.
3:50 P.M. We reach Maluk after an uneventful journey. No one threw up, and I had a few more bananas from the high school girl who giggled each time she offered me one. Pak John drives each person to their home. As they get down from the van, they wave good-bye. Lovely folks – one of the many reasons why I’m still in Indonesia after 17 years. Pak John pulls up at the bus stop in Maluk and tells me it’s time to get down. He apologizes for not being able to take me home. Just as I’m about to answer, he jumps out on to the road and flags down an old man on a 125cc Honda. Where are you going Pak? he asks. Sekongkang. Alhamdulillah, Pak John exclaims, just where my friend here is going. Can he come with you? The old man takes in this request as if it was an everyday occurrence. He motions for me to get on the back. The only problem is that he has two chickens tied across the back of the motorbike. Hmm, must be chicken day. Could you hold these? he asks. I try to match his nonchalance with a casual nod. I grab hold of the chickens, shake Pak John’s hand while he whispers in my ear, Just give him a few thousand rupiahs for petrol. Sure thing, I reply. Thanks for the entertainment. He laughs and climbs back in his van and drives off. My new driver, Pak Ali, tells me to hang on as we climb the hills that separate Maluk and Sekongkang. They’re actually quite steep, and the Honda struggles to climb the steepest incline, but we make it. The chickens in my hand are surprisingly docile; I can’t imagine my hyperactive chickens taking this type of journey so calmly.
4:20 P.M. I’m about to ask Pak Ali to pull over at the gate to my house, but he’s already in the process of crossing the road to do so. I give him a quizzical look as I get off the motorbike. I’ve seen you at school board meetings, he says. You’re the American Muslim schoolteacher, Dr. Sulaiman. Hmm, nothing like village life for maintaining anonymity. I remember living in an apartment building in Berkeley once for a year and never knowing my neighbors’ names. I pull a 10 thousand rupiah note out of my shirt pocket and hand it to him. He shakes his head. We’re neighbors, he says. For cigarettes, I suggest. He takes the note with a nod and drives off down the road. My gardener opens the gate. Where did you meet Pak Ali? Fredi asks. In Maluk. Do you know him? Sure, his wife gave your wife a goat last year as a present for giving her some medicine for her arthritis. Ahh, my wife the village witch doctor strikes again. As I enter the yard, Dave and May, my two dogs come running up to greet me. Back at The Farm once again.
2:50 P.M. We pull off the road into a dusty parking lot in front of a small bengkel. Pak John and the boy get out and pump up the tires. I lean out the window and watch the operation, giving my sign of approval when they’ve finished. Everyone laughs. At least, I’m providing some amusement for my fellow passengers; they’ll all have a good story to tell the family at home this afternoon. It’s a lovely day with clear blue skies, and I’m looking forward to the drive along the coast.
3:50 P.M. We reach Maluk after an uneventful journey. No one threw up, and I had a few more bananas from the high school girl who giggled each time she offered me one. Pak John drives each person to their home. As they get down from the van, they wave good-bye. Lovely folks – one of the many reasons why I’m still in Indonesia after 17 years. Pak John pulls up at the bus stop in Maluk and tells me it’s time to get down. He apologizes for not being able to take me home. Just as I’m about to answer, he jumps out on to the road and flags down an old man on a 125cc Honda. Where are you going Pak? he asks. Sekongkang. Alhamdulillah, Pak John exclaims, just where my friend here is going. Can he come with you? The old man takes in this request as if it was an everyday occurrence. He motions for me to get on the back. The only problem is that he has two chickens tied across the back of the motorbike. Hmm, must be chicken day. Could you hold these? he asks. I try to match his nonchalance with a casual nod. I grab hold of the chickens, shake Pak John’s hand while he whispers in my ear, Just give him a few thousand rupiahs for petrol. Sure thing, I reply. Thanks for the entertainment. He laughs and climbs back in his van and drives off. My new driver, Pak Ali, tells me to hang on as we climb the hills that separate Maluk and Sekongkang. They’re actually quite steep, and the Honda struggles to climb the steepest incline, but we make it. The chickens in my hand are surprisingly docile; I can’t imagine my hyperactive chickens taking this type of journey so calmly.
4:20 P.M. I’m about to ask Pak Ali to pull over at the gate to my house, but he’s already in the process of crossing the road to do so. I give him a quizzical look as I get off the motorbike. I’ve seen you at school board meetings, he says. You’re the American Muslim schoolteacher, Dr. Sulaiman. Hmm, nothing like village life for maintaining anonymity. I remember living in an apartment building in Berkeley once for a year and never knowing my neighbors’ names. I pull a 10 thousand rupiah note out of my shirt pocket and hand it to him. He shakes his head. We’re neighbors, he says. For cigarettes, I suggest. He takes the note with a nod and drives off down the road. My gardener opens the gate. Where did you meet Pak Ali? Fredi asks. In Maluk. Do you know him? Sure, his wife gave your wife a goat last year as a present for giving her some medicine for her arthritis. Ahh, my wife the village witch doctor strikes again. As I enter the yard, Dave and May, my two dogs come running up to greet me. Back at The Farm once again.
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