East Meets West

December 20, 2010

Food always tastes better when you get it at the source.  Fish ‘n Chips in London, steak in Buenos Aires, crepes in Paris.

The same is true for Chinese food. It certainly tastes better in Beijing than at our local Peking Palace All-You-Can-Eat Buffet Open Everyday From 11AM.

Not long ago in China, we traveled south to Lijang to see the home of the Naxi people, one of the last matriarchal societies in existence. As it turned out though, it wasn’t the people that caught our attention, but the food.

Jake, the guide arranged by our US travel agent, drove us around the countryside for a few days, bringing us to a variety of restaurants along the way. Interestingly, several were actually parts of large houses, still resided in by the owners. I’m not adventurous with food but it was a great opportunity to sample Chinese “home cooking” at its source.

At one of them – we called it “the place with the chili peppers” for the strings of red peppers hung outside its door — we dined on local dishes with Jake and our driver in room off a courtyard. At another, the Green Snow outside Lijang (called No. 8 Restaurant by locals, according to Jake) we lunched in a small room away from the main house. Bundled up next to a small coal-filled brazier to ward off the chill, we had a fantastic meal of beef, chicken and fresh vegetables, serenaded by recordings of “Only You” and other old hits by The Platters. There’s nothing like sweet-and-sour chicken served with a side dish of memory lane.

But the meal that still stands out in my mind had nothing to do with the food.

One night in Lijang we chose to go to the restaurant Michi, not so much because Jake told us “it was really popular with foreign tourists,” but because, he added, ” it has the best pizza in China.”

Chinese pizza? Who could resist the temptation to take a peek into this clandestine corner of Chinese cookery? Off we went.

The place was dimly lit and nondescript with, from what I could tell, mostly Europeans and Israelis at its few tables. We ordered three beers, a local chicken dish and a pizza, and made small talk with Jake until the food arrived.

The pizza turned out to be all cheese, with not a speck of tomato anywhere. The cheese had a unique sweetness, making it unlike any pizza we had ever had before.

I turned to Jake to comment on its unique flavor, and immediately saw the clash of cultures.

There he sat, quietly eating his slice with chopsticks.

Jim Ferri

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Perhaps I’ll Give Them Another Try

December 14, 2010

I used to enjoy flying United Airlines but stopped a few years back when they got into financial trouble.  The last thing I wanted was to be marooned someplace if the company went bankrupt.

But today United surprised me.

About a month ago, after cashing in US Airways frequent flyer points for a trip from Washington to London, I was surprised to see that they booked me on United. Well, I thought, if nothing else it would be a good opportunity to see the current state of affairs on UA.

On the day of my departure from Dulles, things seemed to be going well until about an hour before departure when an announcement was made that the flight was delayed. From that moment on things continued to go south at a pretty good pace.

The initial announcement was followed by another, and then by another and, well, you get the idea. At the 2+ hour mark we were then told we would be departing from a different far-flung gate. Once we arrived at the gate — which I had begun to think was in Siberia as I walked and walked and walked – it was then announced that this 777 was a different configuration from the previous, so many people would have to be issued new seat assignments and boarding passes.

Making matters EVEN worse, there was only one agent doing all of this, all the while yelling into the phone for reinforcements. She was getting a bit testy trying to handle nearly 300 irate passengers alone. Thank God the Calvary finally arrived from the front of the terminal.

We finally departed almost five hours late but managed to make up a few hours in the air. Then, about 20 minutes outside of Heathrow, the purser announced that to show its appreciation for our patience United would like us all go to its website for a gift.

I didn’t know what to expect when I finally went to the site just a few minutes ago, thinking perhaps UA might dole out a few frequent flyer miles or a menial discount for a future flight.

So I was surprised when I was offered my choice of either a $250 discount, or a 20% discount, on a future flight. Along with their appreciation came a nice emailed note from their customer relations person.

Despite the mess that ensued in Dulles they handled the whole situation rather well, so perhaps they are turning themselves around now that they’re merging with Continental.

Keep it up and you may see me back there in 25B again. Or, possibly, up there where they’re serving the free cocktails.

Jim Ferri

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Warmth on a Cold Paris Morning

December 7, 2010

A few weeks ago in London, I decided to test the hype about visiting Paris for a day. The ad and pr guys for Eurostar’s “Chunnel train” are fond of reminding you, after all, that la Tour Eiffel is only a bit more than three hours from the Tower of London.

Planning to arrive in Paris as early as possible, I took a taxi to St. Pancras station to catch the 6:53am. (For many years, I must admit, I thought the name of the station was St. Pancreas and wondered why anyone would name a train station, much less a saint, after a body part).

I hopped aboard the 2^nd Class car and joined the mix of mostly 20- or 30-something-year-olds. There were no children at this hour, a blessing since many of them just wanted to sleep, and as we slipped out of the rail yard into the soft dawn of the British countryside, I decided to map out my strategy for attacking Paris.

Mid-strategy came an announcement that 10-pack carnets — tickets for the Paris Metro — were on sale in the café car. Having been to Paris many times before, I knew they would save me quite a bit of time and a few Euros.

I went back to the café car and asked the French woman there for a carnet for the Metro. It was when I returned to my seat that I realized that instead of giving me 10 tickets, she had mistakenly given me 10 packs of 10 tickets — a total of 100.

I returned to the café car and told her “I think you made a mistake with the tickets,” showed her the packets and gave her back the other nine. She stood there with a shocked look on her face, and then thanked me before I went back to my seat where I dozed off.

A while later I felt someone touch my shoulder. Opening my eyes I saw it was the woman who sold me the carnet. “I owe you a big thank you,” she said. “At the least I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.”

Having had too much French coffee already I declined, but added that I did need to find a place to have my reading glasses fixed since I had broken them in the station. “Do you know of an optician near the Gare du Nord?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” she said, “wait for me after we arrive and the other passengers have departed – it will take about five minutes.”

Her name was Claudie, she later told me, and after our arrival at Gare du Nord she walked me up the street to an optician and explained to him my predicament. She waited with me as he repaired my glasses for free – a screw had fallen out — and to thank him I bought another pair to use while traveling.

As we walked back to the station I couldn’t help but think how much we travelers complain about the coldness of Parisians…and here I was on Boulevard de Denain on a cold and rainy Saturday experiencing the warmth of two total strangers.

Jim Ferri

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