#cooking whole SEA SNAKE in Vietnam

[michelemoore]

Takhuk

May 28, 2019

Michele Moore Veldhoen

Glow Worms, Men in Stone, Boiled Octopus, and More...

 Hello, I hope you are well and heading in your intended direction!

As for me, I am enjoying the wonder of the shrubs in the nearby forest releasing their green scent, and watching a great horned owl mother guard her growing owlet.

Meanwhile, Rogerio and I have been scratching our travel itch.  

Whenever we talk about where we might go next, we like to recall past adventures. We make it a rigorous mental exercise, beginning with trying to identify the actual departure date. (I’m happy just coming up with the right year.) Then, before consulting Google Earth we try to name each place we visited, how long we stayed, and what we did there. This is the biggest challenge because we are usually gone for a month or more and travel by train, car, bus, and boat to see a country or a chunk of a country.

Of course the pleasure in this re-take on our trips is remembering the details. The things we did, the human activity we observed, and the amazing natural landscapes we witnessed. Such as, on a pitch black night, finding our way through Australia’s stunning Otway Forest to Melba Gully in hopes the glow worms (not actually worms but rather gnat larvae) would be on display. Which they were. Imagine standing in total darkness, on a wooden boardwalk in a cool damp rainforest hollow (likely crawling with poisonous snakes and spiders), under a forest roof made of leaves the size of picnic benches, surrounded by millions of twinkling white lights. Above, below, and beside us, glow worms displayed their bioluminescent magic, creating a sense of floating in space enveloped by stars. A miraculous display of nature’s playfulness.

Another bright image in my mind is sitting at the top of the centre stadium at Rome’s Foro Italico, a sports complex (originally named Foro Mussolini) watching Swiss tennis legend (and my favourite player) Roger Federer perform his ballet like moves in a match against French player Jo-Wilfried Tsonga.  While the unexpected (and dirt cheap) opportunity to see Federer had me giggling on the bus all the way to the Foro, it was the setting of the match that sent me into fits of joy. We were at the very top of the stadium which seemed as steep as the Coliseum, and the sun was just beginning to set. Decorating the perimeter of the stadium were classic Italian marble statues, all of scandalously over-sized muscular male athletes. (Not sure if Mussolini was making a tribute to himself or the Gods). I happen to love love love the marble statues of Italy, so this view of incredible male form in stone lit in all their splendor by the setting sun, along with the living version down on the court, was almost more than I could bear. I giggled so much at the spectacle the hot calzone in my hand that I had grabbed on the street on my way in became stone cold.

There are stories of hilarity too. Like the crazy bus driver (we thought he was drunk) in Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, who either did not understand or did not care that in the dark night and pouring rain we could not be sure of our bus stop. Wanting to get as close as possible to our hotel, we requested the help of others on the bus to try to figure out the right corner. This resulted in several false stops, each of which caused an increase in the driver’s voluminous expressions of contempt. His shouting and cursing (I’m sure he was cursing), did not seem to be disturbing the Vietnamese people on the bus, nor even the other English speaking people trying to help us. Meanwhile, I was whispering to Rogerio that it might be better to ‘just get off the bus right now before the driver slams into a cluster of motorcycles’. But Rogerio was not to be dissuaded, the rain was coming down in sheets and we had no umbrella. (It helps to travel through insane cities like Saigon with someone raised in Rio).

As we squinted out the dirty steamed up windows trying to identify a landmark, the driver seemed to be getting angrier. Suddenly, he hit the brakes and came to a squealing halt, opened the doors, shouted and swung his arm. We looked blankly at the people around us. “He wants you to get off”, someone said. Below us on the road was a pool of water deep and wide as the bus itself. “No no!” we called out, “not here, not here!” But this time the bus driver was not to be dissuaded. With a demented laugh he yelled at us while millions of motorcycles and cars ripped by, lights flashing, and brakes and engines screeching. “Rogerio, we have to get off!” We stepped down into the shin deep lake of rainwater and ran through it and toward the nearest building before the driver could douse us in more water. We looked at each other and laughed. Our hotel was around the corner.

But on the hilarious scale nothing can top the octopus story.

Octopus is a very popular appetizer, or tapas, in Spain. On our trip to the Spanish Canary Islands, we first spent a week in Madrid, where we discovered a tapas dish called pulpo a la gallega, which is boiled octopus served in bite sized pieces each floating in delicious olive oil and sea salt, and topped with something (pimento?) to become this chewy, sweet and salty snack served appealingly on a wooden board. I have never liked octopus but learned in Madrid that when it is truly fresh and properly prepared, it can be delicious.

Octopus and all seafood also happens to be one of Rogerio’s favourite things to eat. So when he discovered on Gran Canaria Island that fresh octopus is as plentiful and cheap as bananas, he went overboard. Meaning he decided he wanted to make and eat his own pulpo a la gallega – everyday.

When we arrived at our little apartment tucked away in the far southwestern reach of Gran Canaria, we went grocery shopping. While I went about selecting the basics, coffee, bread, milk, and so on, Rogerio beelined it to the seafood department. “I’m just going to see what they have”, he said. We agreed to meet at the checkout and I tried to caution him not to buy anything complicated for dinner that night.

Twenty minutes later my basket was filled and I was in the queue waiting for Rogerio. When it was almost my turn and he still had not appeared I abandoned my position and went to the seafood department.

There he was, with the kind of childlike Christmas morning grin on his face he only gets when he has discovered something that I know I am not going to be excited about.

“Michele, look at this octopus, did you get olive oil? I’m going to make it the same way they did in Madrid!”

I looked at the case of ice on top of which lay a display of freshly caught squid and sardines and, in the middle, stars of the display, were at least a half a dozen huge creamy pink octopuses, laid out to showcase their key body part, the tentacles.  

“Oh no, not tonight, please Rogerio, it’s too complicated. Let’s have something simple or just go out.”

“Don’t worry, you can relax, I’ll do all the work.”

“How much did you buy?”

“It’s so cheap I bought a whole one!”

He pointed to a man in a white apron hunched over a cutting table, working a big knife around the limp body of an octopus.

“That’s Alberto*, he’s chopping it for me, isn’t that great!”

“But you don’t know anything about how to prepare it properly.”

“Alberto gave me a lesson, no problem, you just boil it!”

I stood by, dreaming of a simple dinner of chorizo, cheese, bread, and wine, while Rogerio shouted to Alberto in Spanish something or other, and Alberto laughed and nodded as he handed over a large white plastic bag so heavy he kept one hand under the bag to pass it over the seafood case.

“My God Rogerio how many pounds is that?”

“I think maybe 6 or 7, it’s a lot I know, but it was so cheap Michele!”

“Rogerio, I am not going to eat octopus every day. I want you to know that right now.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll eat it.”

Then he dropped the bag in my basket and said, “I’ll meet you at the checkout.”

He had gone to find plastic containers for the 6 or 7 pounds of chopped octopus we were taking home.

Unfortunately, Alberto’s advice to just ‘boil it’, was not the entire story of how to properly prepare pulpo a la gallega. However, Rogerio came up with his own twist and was immensely satisfied with his results. I stuck to the cheese and bread, and stayed out of the kitchen.

Two weeks later, when we took a three day trip to another island, Rogerio packed the two remaining containers of his now frozen because he could not eat it all himself concoction and took them with us. “But Rogerio”, I said, “we will be there only three days let’s just eat out, it will take too much time to shop and cook.”

“What, you want me to throw it out?”

And so, by car and ferry, we travelled between islands with our light luggage and Rogerio’s frozen containers of boiled octopus.

In the end, he did have to throw out some of his octopus but this did not prevent him from wanting to buy another one when we were back on Gran Canaria for another two weeks.

“If you buy another octopus I’m going out to eat every single night, with or without you.”

Fortunately, in our new location in the mountains, there were no octopuses for sale. Up in those delightful mountain villages, one must be satisfied with chicken or pork with one’s gofio and papas arrugadas and mojo picón. All of which was beyond delicious!

We have all known for decades that tourism brings economic benefits to both developed and developing countries and increases collaboration and co-operation (and therefore peace) in the world. But we also know that there have been devastating environmental outcomes from tourism. I have thought a lot about this in the past couple of years, as I watch the world struggle more and more with huge environmental challenges. The good news is that travelers are aware of this and choosing to visit countries that are addressing these problems. It seems tourism has become a key driver of environmental remediation and protection. Certainly this is the case in famous examples such as Uruguay and Costa Rica. In Africa, game parks that cover vast areas anchor that continent’s hope for a burgeoning commitment to sustainability. And then there’s home. Canada attracts millions of visitors because of our sustained commitment to preservation through our national park system. In fact, there are more and more countries seeking recognition as sustainable destinations. For more information take a look at the website for a non-profit that has been tracking these issues for years: Ethical Traveler.

Great to be writing to you, thanks for reading!

www.thetreeswallow.com

[newflanagansonthebloch]

Day 3: Hanoi to Halong Bay/ Lan Ha Bay

I still can’t sleep to the alarm which is set for 7 but Kerran can. So instead I wake at 6 and make my first blog post you saw a few days ago. At 7:15 we tie up our running shoes and do 3 laps around the lake. We run slow at around 8:30 miles, but the air is thick with humidity and I’m just getting back to running shape. In fact, I may be getting slight shin splints. I’m impressed we’ve now run twice on vacation and it’s nice to go together.

After showering and packing up a bit we head to breakfast. No Vietnam English newspaper today. I was enjoying that as it’s interesting to see how people who love hear view the world. There is far more articles about small European countries and happenings. Obviously there’s more about Vietnam to, like an upcoming visit from the Dutch PM (I think?) and how they can learn more about climate change practices etc from them.

Kerran manages to have half the menu for breakfast—an egg muffin, an omelet, baguette toast, one of my hard boiled eggs, muesli, yogurt, fruit, donuts. I can run on an empty tummy so I’ve had a ONE bar already (the peanut butter ones are delicious) that I’ve brought from home. I have some tea, a hard boiled egg and a small dish of cornflakes to get me through lunch. I am loving the portion sizes (though they aren’t always small!!). Kerran clearly loves breakfast. Me, I’d prioritize dessert, but I’m sure that doesn’t surprise anyone!

At 9:15 we meet Tsoi for our two hour drive to halong bay. As always, Kerran dozes off while I stare at the green landscape and draft these posts. It reminds me of how my mom would doze off between animal sitings when we went on Safari. There is an unimaginable amount of construction on the outskirts of Hanoi. At one site alone there are probably thousands upon thousands of apartments being constructed for the ever expanding population and more cranes than either of us have ever seen in one place!

We arrive at the new port, it’s nothing like the serene photos you see in Pinterest. It’s a pretty gross site with makeshift offices, containers, and cranes. It’s industrial. Four couples sit in the waiting room for Heritage Cruise line’s Ginger boat. I play a game with myself guessing where they are from. (I got two of three correct—Quebec and Connecticut)

The 8 of us take a small boat equipped with big bright orange life vests for a short speed boat trip to the Ginger. We take the grand stair case to the third floor dining room where were briefed by Min, one of the staff, on safety and the jam-packed program ahead. We unpack in our Junior Suite which is quite large (and beautiful) for a boat. The boat itself is a new build, it’s been out for about a year or so and it’s stunning. At lunch we’re joined by a tour group from Canada. Lunch is absolutely beautifully presented, and it’s a multi course meal of sea food—soup, salad, spring rolls, a main and dessert. Luckily portions are small so I can taste it all.

As we make our way around Cat Ba archipelago, the scenery is more and more stunning with karst “mountains” reaching 50-100m on all sides. The limestone makes the water a beautiful green. We pass an old lighthouse which is more house line in actuality, while we eat. While the area is famous for Halong Bay, we are actually on the adjacent Lan Ha Bay which has the same scenery, fewer tourists, less garbage and some surviving house boats.

Our first stop is on Cat Ba island, the second largest island of Vietnam and the largest in this archipelago. There are 367 islands in the archipelago. Our guide tells us that Cat Ba means “women’s land.” We sail about 3/4 around it and take our smaller motorized shuttle boat to Viet Hai, a small village on the south east coast. In fact, Viet Hai means “Vietnamese who live in the sea.” Here we get on beach cruiser bikes for a short 3k ride to Tai Lai town. We pass goats, cows, farms, and of course limestone. When we arrive in town, our guide gives us a short lesson. She tells us that about 10,000 people live on Cat Ba, mostly in Cat Ba Town. There are about 1000 people in floating houses. In this town there are 300-400 residents but many are not there now—some are off fishing and those who are in secondary school are at a boarding school in Cat Ba Town, which is about 45 minutes away by boat. We learn that Cat Ba has one small hospital in town, staffed by nurses and no doctors. For this reason, the locals of this village tend to gravitate toward natural medicines.

Up until 10 years ago this village did not have electricity and relied on batteries and generators. Until 2-3 years ago there was no tourism. Tourism has provided more economic opportunity for this small village.

We walk around the village starting with the burial sites, where families are buried together. Here it’s custom that three years after a parents death the oldest son will dig up the body, clean the bones and then rebury the bones. (I’m really glad we don’t have this custom). Lychee trees are planted nearby the graves as they believe that ghosts are attracted to the fruit and that by planting these trees the ghosts stay away from the homes.

We walk through the garden where peanuts are growing, as well as Papaya trees, green beans etc. Mai, our guide also informed us about the native animals here—the Black Kite or small sea hawk that we see from the boat and the Langurs and Gibbons like we saw in the rescue center yesterday. The Cat Ba white headed langur is one of the top 25 most endangered primates in the world and lives only on Cat Ba—it has been here since the island separated from the mainland due to tectonic activity. There are about 60 left on the island. The island itself is a National Park that protects the langurs but prior to this they were hunted because many believed their brains and bone had medicinal properties. Unfortunately we don’t see any primates today.

We do meander our way to a local home where a man is chopping a tree endemic to Car Ba island. It’s believed to have medicinal properties like Keri g away cancer and is evidently good for your health. They use it to make tea. We also see how they ferment their own rice wine—a little jarring to see what we’d use for gasoline to make wine! We get to try some of the tea and the rice wine which is surprisingly not so bad. Kerran is the only one out of all 24 of us brave enough to taste the snake rice wine!

We bike back to the small port and board the Ginger again and have just enough time to freshen up before a cooking demonstration. This is probably the only time I’ll blow dry my hair the whole trip and it feels so luxurious. The ridiculous heat and humidity of Vietnam has otherwise confined my hair to a pony tail. This is the first time I’ve seen my hair frizz in ages!

Before dinner a small group of us attend the cooking demonstration where they are making green papaya and shrimp salad (Kerran has beef). They use so many herbs and spices which explains the delicious and complex flavorings. The salad itself has green mango, jicama, shredded carrot and cucumber, onion, mint, cilantro and more. The dressing has sweet chili sauce, chilis, fish sauce (always!), sugar, garlic, rice vinegar. We get hands on and learn to plate and sprinkle our creations with peanuts and sesame.

Dinner is more meat based and not quite as good as lunch was but still tasty. After dinner we try our hand at squid fishing (and fail) but see some cute butterfly looking fish (dragon fish?). There is a screening of Top Gear’s Vietnam episode which I manage to catch some (but not all) of as I’m getting so sleepy! Upon return to our room there are ginger (of course!) chocolates on our pillows. Within moments I’m asleep, managing to clock a full 8 hours for the first time this trip!