Biking with little pal

The FIFA 2010 has kept me up in wee hours of the mornings, and strongly deprive of sleep, I drag myself from the cozy bedding to bring my little pal for a long walk on a bike, my Benz.
My bike acts basically like a transport for my pal as she has arthritis problem. At a very slow rate, I'll bike with her side by side, and watching her closely over my shoulder to gauge her capability. As her pants hasten and her eyebrows draw down, she'll sign her weariness with a holding paw, and I'll immediately place her in my carrier. We'll then carry on like a breeze to the next stop.
My bike specially modified for my pal.
A brush for painting my cheeks.
Sweet floral frangrance that attracts the busy bee.
Keep out. Busy Bee at work.

Some logs which I gathered from a neighbourhood house who cut down some hundred year old trees. An effort to beautify the garden to more nature looking.
Fruitful harvest of wild cherries in front of my house, the only one along the full stretch of block, and one that stops on-passers to slow down and salivate.

Nice Day out

It was a bikathon day out with my lil pal as the weather finally calls for a cheer. There's this block near the neighbourhood that resembles the countryside style of Tuscany, an intentional rustic-themed garden that exhumes an air of nonchalance and style. Stupefied by the passion and a colossal effort injected in the makeover, I returned the next day with my photography gear to keep this scene on record. I love the way the owner recycled the old bikes to become part of the decor antiques, and spares no neglection to the flower and potting arrangement, a detail that elevates the sublimity of the garden.

My Monkey

I love monkeys, hence my love for Paul Frank. Yes I do, right from the first day of its retail launch many years ago. I've chanced upon a huge knitted sock monkey at a barn yard store at West End some time ago, and fell in love with it at first sight. So much wanted to bring it home, and thought that a USD100 would be a reasonable tag for possession. My enthusiast was dampened when the shop owner told me that it wasn't for sale as it was an exhibit piece of craft from her student. I knew this was a rare piece. It's been uneasy to even come across a traditional sock monkey in decent craftsmanship, lest an immaculately knitted one. I swear I'll do anything to trade for one, if there's a replicate. Then, in the next weeks at a bookstore, I gotten a plush monkey to fill up this misery of unfulfilled wish. Albeit the size, it was soft and cute. For the time being, I'm happy. By the way, on a level of personal privacy, I have Paul Frank for my pajamas and undies.....la-la-la.

Another night of attack

I was awakened again last night by an abruptly vigorous and intense heart palpitation, the strength that would suffice to pound my organ into bits. To people with experience, it exacts a devil's call of heart attack, that's it. A pound so strong that my conscious tried hard, but failed to trigger the brain to secrete the antidote to repress it. In gradual moments, with slow efforts and eyes still incapable of opening, I tried to drift my thoughts to other subject of concentration, awaiting the stream of huge dubs to subjugate. My eyelids opened when it finally drew away in minutes, minutes that I would call eternity. Such is the pain that I go through without choice, on random basis, without pre-call and no root solution. A pain that slowly, but surely, will get me one day as age catches on and functionality of organs fall reciprocally. Last night, I'm grateful to my little pal again for coming in the middle of the night, almost instantly, to assuage this painful attack. She kept close at every inch of the way, without my request, to warm my body and keep my spirit tight. That was just another reason to press on.

The Nature 1.

Relish the blossom of colours in my garden.

Proof of success of the experimental budding of the rose.

Sunshine is such an extravagance. Extreme chill delayed the blossoming process by two years. Witnessing the first burst of the lustrous bloom brings total elation.

Caffè Vergnano 1882

Caffe Vergnano 1882

Darn, I forgot my camera when I had lunch here this afternoon, in a simple, sleek cafe that spells a touch of finesse both in the drink and decor. My regret initiated the moment my cup of cappuccino arrived, emblazoned with the date 1882 on the frothing top, a smoothly, well-steamed foam that bonds well to last through till the last drop of the beverage.

Caffe Vergnano 1882, an Italian Coffee label claimed to be in the coffee business started in Piedmont since 1882, holds pride in their traditional Italian espresso coffee. A first sip of their espresso had my eyebrows raised as I have once again found the long gone velvety body of this single shot drink, that left no acidic after taste on my palate, and one that does not need water to rinse off the strong robustness. Aside from the traditional espresso and cappuccino, there is a range of other specialty coffees which I vowed to return for. There's no kidding when I tell you I had three different coffee orders in a visit today. The coffee here is meticulous. I had another 1882, a coffee prepared and served in 4 layers with a shooter glass; hot chocolate that forms the bottom layer, a mix of milk and coffee takes the sequence, followed by another layer of black espresso that's finally topped with a sheen surface of foam. I have attained God. Yes, I have. Americano was served with a single espresso, accompanied with a small cup of steamed water for dilution to personal preference, and another cup of fresh creme. My, I can only confess that the Vergnano family really loves their coffee, holds an unequivocal passion toward this full-bodied entity which calls for my salutation as a coffee lover. I must make another confession. I have drifted away from espresso for many forgotten years as I hate the aggressive explosion of this robust drink that dries up my mouth upon finish. Now it's great to know that I can seek this lost flavor in refine subtlety here once again.

I'll be back for you, with my camera, I promise.

Summer's not here

Summer should long be in the season a month ago, but why is the sun shunning her job to drive the dampness away? Short sleeves and hot pants failed to steal a chance to brag their glam, while scarves and coats are reluctant to give up the closet's space and make way for lighter dressings. I am still in the mood of BLUE. Alright, admit it, unlike the ceaseless rain falling everyday, it's getting dry. Who's not, when rainfall is available 24/7. Hey, I want to sun at the patio with my grande latte, and restlessly shuffle my slippers, reading my favourite book, and walk my little pal along the creek side. I want to roll up my sleeves, barbecue the meats under the scorching sun, and gulp down bottles of ice cold wine. A simple list of ultimate wish of things-to-do in summer, lays idle when weather remains unkind and uncompromising.

Here I lay in discontent, under layers of thick quilt, feeling dejected.

Travel: Tokyo; Food

Historical conflicts aside, I love Tokyo. Whether it's about the food, the culture, the fashion, the mannerism, or the Japanese designed and manufactured products, it is almost impeccable in standard. OK, say it's bias if you wish, but I'm not going to alter my opinion as of now. When time is spent in excess residing in a country abound of nature elements, vacationing in a cosmopolitan spot certainly proves to nourish your soul and keep the mindset healthy; it's not bad at all. Running at the forefront of all state-of-the-art, in adjacent to New York, London, Paris, Tokyo brings in an assiduous sequence of creations in the styles of living. To begin, let's start with the food. Simplicity, yet exquisite, is the quintessence of Japanese culinary. From fine dining to finger foods on the street, everything is so wickedly delectable. There's always a subtlety in taste to the extent that a refusal to a dainty pastry or cake after a sumptuous meal can be a SIN.

Here's okonomiyaki, a DIY concept when upon our order, the kitchen staff will concoct the ingredients in a bowl, and the customers will do the cooking on the heated pan. When cooked, we'd brushed the cake with a dark, pre-made shoyu sauce base that's provided which is slightly sweet from the mirin, and then topped with unlimited bonito flakes and seaweed powder that have been set aside on every table.

Okonomiyaki is like a Japanese version of the Italian pizza, but with no bread crust. It's a mixture of flour beaten with an egg, and mixed with an assortment of ingredients of your choice. Sliced cabbage forms the core component, while the most popular mix would be the puny cherry shrimps, shredded bacon or pork, cuttlefish, cheese etc. When most menus are worded in Japanese, it becomes a hard chore to actually make sense of what to order, and to communicate our preference to the Japanese servers who barely speak or comprehend any English. Most of the time, we'd just point to the item in the category that bears the most, or second most, expensive price tag, hoping that we could net the better flavor in the house without miss. There's another more fluid version which you see on the photo left, the cousin of okonomiyaki. I've little idea what's the mix, but it takes a gooey consistency and tastes just as good; called the Monjayaki. On personal preference, I like the latter to the drier piece of pancake.

Hot Spring Tamago that's purchased from the supermarket. What a beauty! Look at the reflecting white that still shimmers like a newborn infant's buttock. Can you still find a yolk of such yellow in its own strong tint nowadays? Well, scarcely. I savor the creamy texture of the yolk in my palate, and the soft white that slurps down the throat effortlessly. And, I wonder why hot spring egg is so affordable, I mean cheap, in Japan; a pack of 4 costs no more than 150 yen.

Fresh sashimi from the supermarket. Lost memory on the actual price, but definitely less than 1000 yen. Having this quality of sashimi grade for supper.....I wish I can stay here forever.
Croissants in Harajuko filled with flovorful cream of matcha, chocolate, strawberry or custard, are freshly baked till golden crisp. The enticing aroma is strong enough to draw you from a street away. Crisp and flaky on each bite, the creamy fillings are not too sweet, but the portion is sufficient to satiate.
A panda-shaped custard puff store that sits quietly beside the western croissant outlet, can be found at Harajuku. Bland at taste, I figure it's more delightful to the eyes than it does to the taste buds.
This is a nice spread of breakfast; from top left clockwise: Ika tempura, potato croquette, unagi rice set, egg-wrapped rice, caramelized custard. All selections from the cooked section of the supermarket. It's a marvel to be able to get these spread of delicacies in the early hours of the morning, fresh and warm, sitting in the shelves awaiting your arrival, with a mission to fulfill your desirous appetite, and energize every of your muscles to accomplish another day of venture.

I'm not stopping here. The eating spree vows to continue.....in Tokyo.