I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live a life where there was absolutely nothing to write. Where everything is going so smoothly, so predictably and so peacefully that all I'd blog is "It is what it is" (To quote a very dear friend), and that would be it.
However, that is NOT the kind of life I lead, and even when it sort of feels like things have gone smoothly, there is always some little weird blip or bump or snafu to keep me typing.
This week went fairly well, overall. The weather has officially turned into Autumn, with chilly nights and mornings. Warm days sprinkle themselves here and there, but overall it is long sleeve time...and I for one am delighted. Cold weather can be blunted with thick jackets and hot tea. Hot weather is utterly inescapable.
On the "yahoo" front, the kids are starting to go out by themselves. Lured by pocket change and pushed by my loving nagging (and by my hands shoving them out the door), they are starting to explore our neighborhood and even make trips to the local convenience stores to buy treats here and there. Of course, it does help that I refuse to buy snacks of any kind. If they want to eat the periodic crunchy or sweet treat, they have to muster up their sleeping Japanese skills and go get it themselves. Ha.
I am continuing to fill the gaps in our menu by teaching myself to make things we cannot easily find here. I have taught myself to make flour tortillas (much easier, by the way, once I purchased an actual rolling pin). I have re-awakened my sleeping salsa-making skills (living in California means having a large variety of tasty salsas within easy reach. I'm so spoiled). We have even made fairly successful chocolate chip cookies (once, that is, we actually located chocolate chips).
So yesterday I decided I was hungry for empanadas. Empanadas, while associated with South America now, originally came from the areas of Spain and Portugal (a Catalan cookbook was found from the 1500's mentioning 'empanadas' specifically), with roots stretching back to Arabic samosas. While I am sure empanadas have gone through a variety of changes over the last 500 years, they are now sort of like little meaty-potatoey-eggy turnovers. Very filling. And while I didn't make them, meatless empanadas can be easily made by substituting other sturdy veggies for the meat.
And they turned out pretty good, even if I do say so myself. Some fine tuning is needed, as with anything. But they were snatched up and eaten by the family in short order (although this does not necessarily indicate culinary delight--food consumption in this house is quickly turning into something resembling a plague of locusts. But that's another story).
Most unfortunately, there was a price to be paid for being allowed to make edible empanadas. I managed to burn out our toaster oven. So my next task is to get a new toaster oven that is empanada-proof. Until then, we are limited to our teeny fish broiler (set into the bottom of our 3 burner gas stove), or our standard toaster (into which an empanada would never fit, and doubtless from which it would be impossible to extract).
To distract myself from the horror of burning out our only baking device, I lured Bob to come with me to a USED ENGLISH LANGUAGE BOOKSTORE. Yes, you read that right. I had coffee last week with a teacher (and extremely talented textile artist) from the local international school, and she told me about it, and even drew me a tiny map. Undoubtedly she saw the maniac glint in my eye at the mention of a used bookstore, and thought it would be safest to draw me a map before I began ranting and frothing at the mouth.
I was anticipating a difficult multi-subway transfer trip to this bookstore. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find out it was a medium-bike ride away (Bob did some iphone map magic and voila--directions). Our bike ride would, of course, take us back along the Kamo River. And, as I detailed in my last blog entry, the Kamo River is never without its charms and delights.
On this river-side bike ride, there were the usual assortment of desperate musicians (slide trombone, 2 clarinets, 1 flute, 2 electric guitars--with portable amplifiers, 3 acoustic guitars, a harmonica and a huge drum circle. AND, a whole group of people playing an instrument I had never seen before. When we came home I looked it up, and found it was an Angklung. This is a bamboo percussion instrument originally from Indonesia (but which is played throughout Southeast Asia) and is designed to be played in a group, as each Angklung plays only 1 or 2 notes. The melody the river group was playing was haunting and beautiful, the bamboo reeds creating a breathy, hollow tone that is irresistible to listen to.
We saw a variety of sports and other outdoor pursuits being played as well--baseball, a huge game of frisbee football fishing, bug-catching, tai-chi, jogging and a fairly large dance troupe involved in an intricate rehearsal.
However, aside from all this, there was one thing that made Bob and I stop our bikes and gape for awhile.
In the sparse grass along the walking and bike path, an older man was holding what looked to be a round sembe or ritz cracker, reaching as far up as he could with it into the air. And he was whistling and cooing, staring up at the sky. Bob and I followed his gaze only to see several very large circling hawks (their wingspans must have been about 3 feet), flying low, gliding on the breeze in lazy circles. They were specifically circling the man. Suddenly one of the hawks would swoop very low, just over his head. He would toss the cracker into the sky and the hawk would catch it in its beak and soar back into the sky.
The man's attention was riveted to the hawks, paying attention to neither dogs or tiny children nor bizarre foreigners with their mouths hanging open. It was fascinating to see the play between the man and the wild hawks, as this was quite obviously a daily routine for both man and birds. At the same time, I felt rather sad, watching these majestic wild birds of prey being softened for the sake of a cracker. I often have these conflicting feelings-- this mix of fascination, delight and sadness when I see any piece of the untamed, the wild, or the natural, being--inevitably it seems--softened and blunted by humans. But that's another story...
We did make it to the bookstore. It is located on the second floor of a narrow building. The store itself is small--probably just a little longer than our living room, and just as wide. On every wall are floor to ceiling bookshelves, with the books lined up in rows that are 2 deep. When we entered the store through the wooden sliding door, a soft waft of incense met us, with an accompanying wash of soft instrumental Indian music. In the center of the space were free standing book display racks.
THIS was my kind of bookstore. I have always been drawn to used bookstores--so much more eclectic than big commercial bookstores. This store--called "Green E Books, gets its stock from trade ins and donations from foreigners. So the selection is wide ranging, and encompassing what you'd expect to find in a good quality used bookstore back in the U.S. I selected 4 books (taking full advantage of their 'buy 3 books get the 4th free' deal), enjoying that wonderful rush of anticipation I get every time I find something new to read. Nerdy, but there it is.
And so for today, Sunday, after running a few errands I have big plans to zip myself into my sweat jacket, make a big cup of green tea, and settle down to some new reading. Ahhh.
Until next time.....
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