travelswithalice

However, I may look more kindly on this concept of early countdown to midnight later tonight. Much much later, as in early morning, past midnight. As I struggle to get home, wading through throngs of sweaty, alcohol-fueled revelers, I might even thank the wet-blanket kill-joys for arranging to thin out the drunk and disorderly pedestrian traffic.

Happy New Year!

I watch Stuart walking his brisk walk, sprinting almost, on his way to Zia Pina- or maybe Vintage Cafe- for our takeaway dinner. We decided there's no better place for tonight's dinner than on our balcony, watching the sun go down behind Sydney Harbour Bridge.


If took the Southern Swan two attempts to tie up to Campbell's Cove. Her wind- and sun-soaked passengers gave a little cheer and applauded.


Pushed along by a rubber dinghy, the other boat easily slides into position on the far side of the cove.


Stuart texts a change in menu. It's fish & chips, not pizza. Just as well. Pizza doesn't quite go with the setting.

Of course Christmas dinner was nice too! Terrific in fact, but how can it not be? Just look at this place!

The Celebrity Solstice sets sail and gives us back our view of Circular Quay. With her 13 decks (we counted), 1,041 feet (we were told), and reportedly over two and a half thousand passengers, the monster ship spanned the entire length of the walkway from the quay all the way to the Sydney Opera House.




Tomorrow, another ship takes her place. But in the meantime, I'm enjoying the spectacular view. The sky has turned grey and there's a bit of a shower, but the water remains beautiful.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We finally did get ourselves organized enough to go out and take the ferry to our old neighborhood in Cremorne Point.

At Circular Quay, buskers provided the soundtrack to the sun-splashed afternoon.

Stuart and I are to spend the Christmas holidays in Sydney. We have just arrived and I can't be bothered to freshen up from the 9-hour flight from Hong Kong or even unpack my bags. The view from our hotel room has not allowed me to do anything but stare and sigh and stare. This is just too beautiful.






Of course, it's really just as beautiful at night.

Photos will be posted as they become available. Cheers!

Friday is our last day in Kyoto; it's the 7th of the month, so Chef Chihiro Togo is making us Trattoria Sette's signature Neapolitan pizza on the house. The hotel has given us a nice bottle of Canvas Cabernet Sauvignon too. So with our hotel guest's standard 3,000 yen discount, this fabulous dinner would cost us almost nothing. Domo arigato!

It took us at least half an hour and two runs up and down Pontocho before settling on a place to have our authentic Japanese dinner. We saw an elderly couple come out of the restaurant smiling the smile of the satisfied customer. That's the place we want, I said.

Yumi, the resident English speaker, came out to vet us. Very kindly, we were asked if we had reservations; then if we had an idea of the kind of food they served; and finally, if we had an idea of the prices they charged. 

That's when we decided this must be the place!

There was only the one long counter, ten seats, cushions really. You sit on the floor, but there's that very welcome and very forgiving recess under the table.

We drank beer as we waited for dinner to be served. We had neglected to ask how many courses there would be. 

First came an appetizer dish nestled in a bamboo cage decorated with tiny autumn leaves. Steamed chicken with raisins, half a chestnut with crisped skin, a small disk of cream cheese topped with smoked salmon, and a sardine sashimi. 

By this time, we had an inkling that dinner was going to be special.
Next came sashimi. There were Spanish mackerel, turbot, and squid. Oops, we can't have that. Seafood allergy. He quickly retrieved the dish to remove the potentially offending seafood.

In a small bowl was a kind of salad. Chef Tanaka said, "Fugu. Do you know Fugu?"




Oh dear. Blowfish. That infamous delicacy favored by diners with a death wish.

Is he licensed to serve that? Stuart asked to see his license. Really? Yes, really. Off he went to get it.

Now that we've got that  cleared, we can proceed to the rest of this really exquisite meal.

There was Flatfish on a bed of braised eggplant, topped with Japanese green pepper, in a brown broth. Grilled Spanish mackerel marinated in soy sauce, lime, and sake. Local vegetables served in broth thickened with tofu skin and kelp. 




And finally, rice. But this was rice as I've never eaten rice before. It came submerged in rich fish broth, topped with sea bream, spiked with wasabi, and sprinkled with sesame seeds and strips of nori. All to be stirred and eaten with a pretty blue and white spoon.


By this time, Stuart and I doubted we could eat another morsel. Then came dessert. Akadama sweet wine jelly with pear, grapefruit, and fig.

I like looking at things fresh, through my own eyes, not through some guidebook writer's. Sometimes this means I miss out on things I should've paid more attention to. But most times, the experience is clearer,  nicer.

Seeing all those ancient buddhas lined up shoulder to shoulder. as far as I could see, down the length of the long, low wooden building was an unexpected delight. I had no idea what I was walking into, just that it was an ancient buddhist temple, a national treasure. I loved the look of the building. It's really just a room, a very long room in ancient dark wood, hushed except for the shuffling of bare feet and the low murmur of the guides and teachers shepherding tourist groups, mostly old, mostly Japanese, and students in school uniforms.

Pity, taking photos was strictly forbidden, as numerous cautionary signs reminded the faithful every three feet or so. No photos to be taken of the sacred Buddha, cameras are to be inspected, photographic equipment will be confiscated, and so on.

A thousand Buddhas, nearly identical in face and body, shone in gold, bright rays radiating from their heads. Standing guard before them was a row of lesser deities, bodies and faces animated in ferocious poses, blackened with soot and dirt.

In the center of this hallowed assembly was a giant seated Buddha, hands and fingers held in the classic stance of quiet and blessing. I lit four candles for Mommy and Daddy, and Mum and Dad Jones. Hedging my bets?