#s: sun through persimmon trees

[fistsoflightning]

☀ - where sunlight meets stream

[pretimasafghanistanlitblog]

“Ten Interesting Afghani Novels”

1. Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Fisher Staples

Intertwined portraits of courage and hope in Afghanistan and Pakistan Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose name means "star," suddenly finds herself alone when her father and older brother are conscripted by the Taliban and her mother and newborn brother are killed in an air raid. An American woman, Elaine, whose Islamic name is Nusrat, is also on her own. She waits out the war in Peshawar, Pakistan, teaching refugee children under the persimmon tree in her garden while her Afghan doctor husband runs a clinic in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan.

Najmah's father had always assured her that the stars would take care of her, just as Nusrat's husband had promised that they would tell Nusrat where he was and that he was safe. As the two look to the skies for answers, their fates entwine. Najmah, seeking refuge and hoping to find her father and brother, begins the perilous journey through the mountains to cross the border into Pakistan. And Nusrat's persimmon-tree school awaits Najmah's arrival. Together, they both seek their way home.

Known for her award-winning fiction set in South Asia, Suzanne Fisher Staples revisits that part of the world in this beautifully written, heartrending novel. (goodreads.com)

2. Words in the Dust by Trent Reedy

Winner of the Christopher Medal and a "heart-wrenching" Al Roker's Book Club selection on the Today Show.

Zulaikha hopes. She hopes for peace, now that the Taliban have been driven from Afghanistan; a good relationship with her hard stepmother; and one day even to go to school, or to have her cleft palate fixed. Zulaikha knows all will be provided for her--"Inshallah," God willing. Then she meets Meena, who offers to teach her the Afghan poetry she taught her late mother. And the Americans come to her village, promising not just new opportunities and dangers, but surgery to fix her face. These changes could mean a whole new life for Zulaikha--but can she dare to hope they'll come true? (Amazon.com)

3. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

A Thousand Splendid Suns is a breathtaking story set against the volatile events of Afghanistan's last thirty years - from the Soviet invasion to the reign of the Taliban to post-Taliban rebuilding - that puts the violence, fear, hope, and faith of this country in intimate, human terms. It is a tale of two generations of characters brought jarringly together by the tragic sweep of war, where personal lives - the struggle to survive, raise a family, find happiness - are inextricable from the history playing out around them.

Propelled by the same storytelling instinct that made The Kite Runner a beloved classic, A Thousand Splendid Suns is at once a remarkable chronicle of three decades of Afghan history and a deeply moving account of family and friendship. It is a striking, heart-wrenching novel of an unforgiving time, an unlikely friendship, and an indestructible love - a stunning accomplishment. (goodreads.com)

4. Swallows of Kabul by Yasmina Khadra 

Since the ascendancy of the Taliban the lives of Mosheen and his beautiful wife, Zunaira, have been gradually destroyed. Mosheen's dream of becoming a diplomat has been shattered and Zunaira can no longer even appear on the streets of Kabul unveiled. Atiq is a jailer who guards those who have been condemned to death; the darkness of prison and the wretchedness of his job have seeped into his soul. Atiq's wife, Musarrat, is suffering from an illness no doctor can cure. Yet, the lives of these four people are about to become inexplicably intertwined, through death and imprisonment to passion and extraordinary self-sacrifice.

The Swallows of Kabul is an astounding and elegiac novel of four people struggling to hold on to their humanity in a place where pleasure is a deadly sin and death has become routine. (goodreads.com)

5. The Pearl That Broke Its Shell by Nadia Hashimi

Afghan-American Nadia Hashimi's literary debut novel is a searing tale of powerlessness, fate, and the freedom to control one's own fate that combines the cultural flavor and emotional resonance of the works of Khaled Hosseini, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Lisa See.

In Kabul, 2007, with a drug-addicted father and no brothers, Rahima and her sisters can only sporadically attend school, and can rarely leave the house. Their only hope lies in the ancient custom of bacha posh, which allows young Rahima to dress and be treated as a boy until she is of marriageable age. As a son, she can attend school, go to the market, and chaperone her older sisters.

But Rahima is not the first in her family to adopt this unusual custom. A century earlier, her great-great grandmother, Shekiba, left orphaned by an epidemic, saved herself and built a new life the same way.

Crisscrossing in time, The Pearl the Broke Its Shell interweaves the tales of these two women separated by a century who share similar destinies. But what will happen once Rahima is of marriageable age? Will Shekiba always live as a man? And if Rahima cannot adapt to life as a bride, how will she survive? (Amazon.com)

6. Shooting Kabul By N.H. Senzai

In the summer of 2001, twelve-year-old Fadi's parents make the difficult decision to illegally leave Afghanistan and move the family to the United States. When their underground transport arrives at the rendezvous point, chaos ensues, and Fadi is left dragging his younger sister Mariam through the crush of people. But Mariam accidentally lets go of his hand and becomes lost in the crowd, just as Fadi is snatched up into the truck. With Taliban soldiers closing in, the truck speeds away, leaving Mariam behind.

Adjusting to life in the United States isn't easy for Fadi's family, and as the events of September 11th unfold the prospects of locating Mariam in a war torn Afghanistan seem slim. When a photography competition with a grand prize trip to India is announced, Fadi sees his chance to return to Afghanistan and find his sister. But can one photo really bring Mariam home?

Based in part on Ms. Senzai's husband's own experience fleeing his home in Soviet-controlled Afghanistan in the 1970's, Shooting Kabul is a powerful story of hope, love, and perseverance. (goodreads.org)

7. Green on Blue: A Novel by Elliot Ackerman 

Aziz and his older brother Ali are coming of age in a village amid the pine forests and endless mountains of eastern Afghanistan. They are poor, but inside their mud-walled home, the family has stability, love, and routine. One day a convoy of armed men arrives in their village and their world crumbles. The boys survive and make their way to a small city, where they gradually begin to piece together their lives. But when US forces invade the country, militants strike back. A bomb explodes in the market, and Ali is brutally injured.

To save his brother, Aziz must join the Special Lashkar, a US-funded militia. As he rises through the ranks, Aziz becomes mired in the dark underpinnings of his country’s war, witnessing clashes between rival Afghan groups—what US soldiers call “green on green” attacks—and those on US forces by Afghan soldiers, violence known as “green on blue.” Trapped in a conflict both savage and contrived, Aziz struggles to understand his place. Will he embrace the brutality of war or leave it behind, and risk placing his brother—and a young woman he has come to love—in jeopardy?

Green on Blue has broken new ground in the literature of our most recent wars, accomplishing an astonishing feat of empathy and imagination. Writing from the Afghan perspective, “Elliot Ackerman has done something brave as a writer and even braver as a soldier: He has touched, for real, the culture and soul of his enemy��� (The New York Times Book Review). (barnesandnoble.com)

8. Caravans by James A. Michener

First published in 1963, James A. Michener’s gripping chronicle of the social and political landscape of Afghanistan is more relevant now than ever. Combining fact with riveting adventure and intrigue, Michener follows a military man tasked, in the years after World War II, with a dangerous assignment: finding and returning a young American woman living in Afghanistan to her distraught family after she suddenly and mysteriously disappears. A timeless tale of love and emotional drama set against the backdrop of one of the most important countries in the world today, Caravans captures the tension of the postwar period, the sweep of Afghanistan’s remarkable history, and the inescapable allure of the past. (barnesandnoble.com)

 9. A Cup of Friendship: A Novel by Deborah Rodriguez

From the author of the “bighearted . . . inspiring” (Vogue) memoir Kabul Beauty School comes to a fiction debut as compelling as real life: the story of a remarkable coffee shop in the heart of Afghanistan, and the men and women who meet there - thrown together by circumstance, bonded by secrets, and united in an extraordinary friendship.

After hard luck and some bad choices, Sunny has finally found a place to call home - it just happens to be in the middle of a war zone. The thirty-eight-year-old American’s pride and joy is the Kabul Coffee House, where she brings hospitality to the expatriates, misfits, missionaries, and mercenaries who stroll through its doors. She’s especially grateful that the busy days allow her to forget Tommy, the love of her life, who left her in pursuit of money and adventure.

Working alongside Sunny is the maternal Halajan, who vividly recalls the days before the Taliban and now must hide a modern romance from her ultratraditional son - who, unbeknownst to her, is facing his own religious doubts. Into the café come to Isabel, a British journalist on the trail of a risky story; Jack, who left his family back home in Michigan to earn “danger pay” as a consultant; and Candace, a wealthy and well-connected American whose desire to help threatens to cloud her judgment.

When Yazmina, a young Afghan from a remote village, is kidnapped and left on a city street pregnant and alone, Sunny welcomes her into the café and gives her home - but Yazmina hides a secret that could put all their lives in jeopardy. As this group of men and women discover that there’s more to one another than meets the eye, they’ll form an unlikely friendship that will change not only their own lives but the lives of an entire country.

Brimming with Deborah Rodriguez’s remarkable gift for depicting the nuances of life in Kabul, and filled with vibrant characters that readers will truly care about, A Cup of Friendship is the best kind of fiction - full of heart yet smart and thought-provoking. (Amazon.com)

 10. In the Sea There Are Crocodiles By Fabio Geda

What would you do if, when you were ten, you were left to fend for yourself, and, in order to survive, you had to undertake a harrowing journey all the way from Afghanistan to Italy?

In early 2002, Enaiatollah Akbari’s village fell prey to the Taliban. His mother, fearing for his life, led him across the border. So began Enaiat’s remarkable and often publishing five-year ordeal—trekking across bitterly cold mountains, riding the suffocating false bottom of a truck, steering an inflatable raft in violent waters—through Iran, Turkey, Pakistan, and Greece, before he eventually sought political asylum in Italy, all before he turned fifteen years old.

Here Fabio Geda delivers the moving true story of Enaiat’s extraordinary will to survive and of the accidental brotherhood he found with the boys he met along the way. In the Sea There Are Crocodiles brilliantly captures Enaiat’s engaging voice and humor, in what is a truly epic story of hope and survival, for readers of all ages. (barnesandnoble.com) 

[celticfeather]

Chapter 1: Dawn

Chapter 6 Below

-Uchiha Itachi-

"Itachi, wake up."

"Itachi."

Itachi opened his eyes and regarded his partner calmly. The first thing he saw was Kisame retracting a guilty hand, and a bluish eyebrow twitched. "Did you have trouble sleeping?"

Apparently he had overslept.

"The nights in this country are short," Itachi said.

Kisame looked over at the rising sun over the waves. It was already two hours high. But the mist-ninja said nothing.

Gulls wheeled as the pair trekked along the sand. They walked in the wetness where their footprints were quickly erased by the swiping glasslike waves.

"Finally!" A voice behind them said.

The disturbance's whining tone signaled no threat and dually annoyed Itachi. Zetsu had risen from the dunegrass, grains of white quartzite sand rivuletting down the creases in his leafed crest. Itachi did not particularly like Zetsu: it was some kind of association that the plant-ninja always brought bad news.

"About time we found you two!" the white half exclaimed. "I can't see or hear well through the ocean."

Zetsu could not spy as efficiently underwater or at beaches. Itachi filed the information for later use.

"Pain requests you meet at a cave on the eastern bank of Rido Lake, in the Land of Rivers, five days from today,' he said matter of factly.

Itachi and Kisame looked at each other.

Zetsu continued excitedly. "It's a doosie, the whole gang is invited! Well, I'll give you a hint. We're going on a Tailed Beast Hunt!"

Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Tailed Beast Hunt?"

"Yes! Don't be late! Five days, Rido Lake, at noon!"

The plant-ninja seeped back into the earth. Itachi always found Zetsu's rare locomotion an anomaly. But Itachi supposed even his own powers, logical to him, looked enviously strange from the outside.

"Know anything about tailed beasts?" Kisame asked.

"The Nine Tailed Fox attacked my village when I was five. It destroyed the Uchiha complex and killed the Hokage...They sealed it in a child."

"The Mist's Tailed Beast has been missing since the death of the Mizukage."

"Hm," Itachi said. The hunt must be no small feat if the other teams were enlisted for the same task. At least, according to Zetsu, they had some days for themselves before they needed to report. Itachi was mildly curious of the mission, but not enthusiastic.

"Do we need to do anything before then?" Kisame asked.

Like say goodbye to friends and family? With a silent glance at the eastern sun, Itachi discerned their orientation, and led them in the direction of the Land of Rivers, a several days' walk away.

"It would be faster if we cut across the gulf."

"I can neither run nor swim a gulf."

"I'm not convinced you can swim at all."

The two ninja traveled a quiet day through the small countries. It was the custom of outlaws to make their routes through the disorganized and impoverished ring of states outside the great nations. These strapped militias did not track killers so long as they wandered peaceably.

As they walked along a path, the bisected village was freshly burned. A miasma of death, fine as silt and equally pervasive, clogged the air. A battlefield passed them by, and narrow flags streamed from spear points embedded in earth and armor.

"Looks like a civil war."

"Or a blood feud."

Hopping crows scattered before the two rogues. Most of the corpses wore old fashioned layered armor and carried swords. Like the Uchiha and Senju, he thought. But he doubted any were above genin in this battle.

He turned one of the soldiers over. It rolled too light in its iron shell, a woman, or a boy. A boy. Itachi searched him, but found only copper, and he left it. He did this to three other corpses, but found no food, only money.

"You check for threats. I'll search for anything useful," Itachi said, and Kisame disappeared.

Itachi stole suspicious and warily into the hamlet, a habit he could not shake despite the lack of threat. The thatch from the houses was half burned, and the village's inhabitants were dead or fled. He pushed open a garden gate.

Twisted in old rebellion against the dry summer grasses, gnarled black tree trunks reached towards the sky. His eyes flitted hopefully through the ravaged orchard like a songbird. Too high for even the lightest village children, a few orange persimmon fruits dotted the canopy.

With a flighting leap he landed on a tree's fork, picked the ripest fruit, and with his watchful eyes flashing left and right, he sank his teeth into the water-soft flesh. Persimmons were sweet and fibrous and very healthy. Life with Kisame had him eating a lot of meat. A hooded crow alighted on a nearby branch to observe him. He considered offering the bird a slice, before realizing it had ample preferable options.

The hamlet appeared abandoned from his vantage, and Kisame had made himself invisible. Itachi continued to explore the hamlet, but found little in the way of life or clues. The little crow followed him. An emaciated pig lay dead in a nearby pen. Kisame would like that. The patient crow watched him open the carcass and a squawk summoned her friends.

He walked into the mostly-intact adjacent hut with the pork balanced gingerly between his hands. The abandoned one-room house displayed a traditional kitchen: a pile of coals inset in a square hole in the center of the tatami floor. He might not be better at catching fish than Kisame, -no he was still probably better at fishing than Kisame- but he was definitely a better cook. With the pork fillet, soy sauce, peppercorns and herbs he found around the property, he practiced his art over a dead family's hearth. Kisame stepped through the threshold some time later.

"No one is here but some corpse robbers, who are hiding from us about a quarter kilometer away."

"How respectful of them," Itachi noted.

Kisame grunted. Itachi gestured for Kisame to sit opposite him as he continued to cook. Kisame's eyes traced out the window at the carnage, and he released an abandoned laugh.

"Reminds me of my teenage years.

Itachi followed his gaze. "Indeed."

The oppressive silence of dead men blanketed them. As the coal-fire stoked, the hut they sat in was empty from any laughter it had days ago. The universe had conspired to put two ruthless killers into a village that now offered no one to kill. The Akatsuki had always killed and left. Now Itachi would see what he created.

No. He spared the Leaf from this.

"The Eye of the Moon will end this excess," Kisame said soberly from across the coals.

"We'll find no satisfaction in illusion."

Kisame twitched his lip in a tight smile, unexpected to have lured Itachi to finally spar.

"How can you be sure that your belief that reality is superior to fiction, is itself not false?" Kisame's posed.

"Because I weave fiction."

Itachi had authored his ideal life once, right before he killed his clan.

He had cast Tsukuyomi on his… what was she? Izumi. He wove them a fiction of their life together, of having children, growing old and dying. And he remembered, for a few seconds that lasted her seventy years, she was happy. But through the whole thing he'd felt the unimaginable sense of dread that came with knowing he was in a dream. A few seconds later, Izumi's flesh was as broken as her mind was. And Itachi was broken in a new way too.

"I can show you," Itachi said. He hadn't meant it to be a threat but maybe it sounded like one. "What the Tsukuyomi is like."

A pause. "Don't."

Itachi let the conversation end. Kisame seemed most purposed in his whole life serving the Akatsuki. But to Itachi, his hunted years spent under red clouds was no life. He remembered no moments in the last four years where he was not either fleeing, hungry, hurt, exhausted, or lonely.

Or maybe this was normal and just came with being his age. He read that people his age needed more food and sleep. He had no one to ask. He looked at Kisame, but he decided not to.

The sweet, peppery scent of shogayaki goaded his hunger. His eyes flickered to Kisame; it probably smelled even better to him. Quietly proud of his wartime creation, he began to serve Kisame a proportionally larger serving to his own.

Kisame's fingertips interrupted his offering. "You eat it."

Itachi narrowed his eyes. For two days now he had not seen Kisame eat, on their lifestyle which burned tens of thousands of calories daily.

"There is an entire boar, already dead," Itachi reiterated.

"You're scrawny and should eat more."

He had never been spoken to that way. Silent in his irritation, Itachi ate. Kisame was an adult and a soldier, and would not die by starving himself.

Itachi's annoyance soured the food, and he had prepared enough for two Kisames. It was impossible for a single person his size to consume, and Itachi never liked overeating, especially in hostile territory.

"I can't eat all of this."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Do as you like."

He heard a small exhale from Kisame.

"Pork, it tastes too much like…" Kisame shook his head.

Perhaps he should have expected this. Itachi was suddenly uneasy with Kisame's candidness, when Itachi had been willing to bury the other day's incident. He worried he had been rude. He set his knife on the wood and stood. "Come with me."

Hesitant, Kisame followed him. Itachi halted before the orchard, the black-barked and scarcely-leafed persimmon trees stretching like dead fingers to the sky.

"I didn't think you ate fruit." Itachi explained the omittance. It seemed a ridiculous assumption now.

Itachi watched his partner's back as he walked forward, lit by the pink ash-hazed sun. He tried to focus on Kisame, or on the sunset, for if his gaze wandered, he would see the distance was fecund with death.

"Yo!"

Their eyes locked on the noise. Like a monkey from a tree branch, Tobi hung upside down from a permission limb. He completed his flip and landed sprightly on the earth to trot towards the two men.

Itachi and Kisame had the senses of beasts. No human could sneak up on them while they were awake. It was like the man had materialized from ash and smoke.

"Hi Kisame! Itachi! I thought of you, you know, and I knew I had to find you! Come see, Tachi! I found this toad that totally looks like you!"

Tobi had taken Itachi's arm and started pulling him in some direction. Itachi looked back at Kisame for something, —-he didn't know— for explanation, for sympathy, for help.

Itachi felt himself being sucked in somewhere, transported somewhere dark, then moved again back to the human world. Kisame and the ash were gone. Itachi and the spiral-masked man faced each other in a grassy plain.

The red eye through the mask was narrow, the aura menacing.

"I let slide your insubordination at the brothel. But discrediting the Eye of the Moon to Kisame is a new level of idiocy."

Fear's icy brine chilled Itachi's veins. Lowering his act even slightly to Kisame had been a deadly mistake.

"Kisame is still in full support of the Eye of the Moon," Itachi said.

The lie to shield his partner flowed smooth as silk before Madara. But he realized then its plausibility. In mentioning the Eye of the Moon, Kisame had baited and strung Itachi as deftly as he would a catfish, and thrown him to an even bigger beast.

Madara made a dismissive, subvocal noise. "Do you remember our agreement from that long night?"

"You kill the Uchiha police force and don't harm the Leaf. I help you in the Akatsuki."

"It's a pact you'll only escape when one of us is dead. Too bad for you and the Leaf, you'll die first."

Itachi lit Amaterasu then. The inferno feasted on Madara's clothes, he smelled it roast his skin, and the elder Uchiha screamed and cursed, and he disappeared in a swirl. Itachi did not know what the retreat meant, but he did not think the incident was over, so he fled for the forest.

Moments later Madara appeared on a tree branch in front of him, unflamed. Itachi kept running. This was not Itachi's first dance with a teleporter— and he knew to deal with them better than most.

The bait untaken, Madara disappeared again.

Then Madara phased centimeters in front of him. Itachi should have crashed into him, but there was no collision, rather Itachi suddenly found himself cut around the waist by a chain. Madara viced it taught around him and smashed Itachi to a tree trunk.

"Pain was never the one you needed to worry about."

Terrified and adrenalized, Itachi zapped him again with the Amaterasu. Madara swore and disappeared. Exhausted and half blind, Itachi's trembling fingers started to untie himself.

Madara returned and kicked the chained man in the stomach. "That again?"

Itachi recovered and stared at him wrathfully. Madara's only eye was shadowed by the mask, and Itachi could not establish the contact he needed for Tsukuyomi.

"Each user of the Mangekyou has one ability for each eye. Yours are the black flames, Amaterasu, and the nightmare realm, Tsukuyomi, right?"

"Take your mask off," Itachi breathed.

"I've been meaning to teach you something for a while. You buried the knowledge of Indra's clan when you killed them. They were weak, but the eldest Uchiha knew the old paths, even if they could not climb them. And orphaned, you now need instruction in using our highest gifts." Madara's voice had adopted a helpful tone.

"I want none of the knowledge that has poisoned you."

Itachi said it, but he wasn't sure he was so noble. Beneath his fear was the instinct to collect advantages. He had learned long ago to enact what sin justice demanded.

"There's a third ability that everyone with two mangekyou has. You have the eyes, but there's a nose. How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Very well."

"Good. Then you know already what we call him."

Their eyes locked. A hypnotic heartbeat passed in synchrony.

The air cracked with chakra and the space around Madara hazed cobalt blue. Itachi's lips parted in disbelief. A huge skeleton formed around Madara, which lengthened as it became threaded with corded muscles, skin, and at last armor. A huge blue, astral samurai.

Madara spoke. "Amaterasu emerges through grief. Tsukuyomi through fear. Susanoo is a wrathful god, and his likeness is unlocked by hate."

Quick as a whip, the Susanoo lifted Itachi, its hand covered his eyes and twisted his neck like a bird, and the other crushed him until his ribs cracked. Itachi screamed, and his lungs filled with blood, and he felt his spine compressing, and he knew he would soon die. But above the pain, above it all, he hated the man before him. He wanted Madara dead. He wanted to flay the skin off him. He wanted to rend him full of nightmares, stab him through the tsukuyomi, and burn his corpse. Because if Madara didn't control the fox, he would not be in the Akatsuki, the scorned Uchiha would not have revolted, and everyone he had loved would be alive.

And at last Itachi's cracking ribs ceased. His body was wracked with pain, but he could breathe. The air tasted ozone and electric. He could just barely see that red bars of chakra, like a ribcage, had formed around his own body in protection. Madara's susanoo released him.

"I need you alive for something, for now. This ethical streak, however... I'll rub that out soon enough."

He dared the hateful glare of a man who could not stand at Madara. "I'll soak the earth with your guts."

A laugh. "Good progress."

The blur shaped like Madara admired the fallen Uchiha a moment more; in Itachi's imagination he was smug. Madara disappeared in a silent vortex from his right eye. Maybe Itachi had played into Madara's hands, but they both had what they wanted. Itachi had knowledge, and he was not dead. Itachi's fiery ribs extinguished with the threat, and he collapsed to bleed his life unto the ungrateful earth.

Author's Note:

Apologies for the wait on this one, folks. Thanks very much to beta SilverLion for her help!

See you next time,

Kelto

[chanoyu-to-wa]

Nampō Roku, Book 4 (19):  Displaying a To-shiba [鳥柴].

19) A to-shiba [鳥柴] should be displayed, as it was received, on the engawa [of the shoin]².

    If there is a letter or tanzaku, or something of that sort³, the way to attach these things [to the to-shiba], and the way that the knots should be tied -- there are various ways [to do these things]⁴.

    [It is also possible to display the to-shiba without a base or a tray.]⁵

_________________________

◎ The final text entry in Book Four of the Nampō Roku is, like the rest of the sections that were tacked onto the end of Jōō's original memorandum, completely spurious, and designed to further the Edo period need to encourage a return to practices associated with what was perceived to be a high period of shōgunal culture in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.

    The fact that the wealthy merchants were more likely to be concerned with the display of a to-shiba* than members of either the aristocracy or military classes, suggests that it may have been for their benefit that this entry was added to the end of Book Four. ___________ *Since it would show their peers that the recipient had certain close ties with the shōgun or other high government official or court noble.

¹Tori-shiba [鳥柴].

    To-shiba [鳥柴] means a bird (tori [鳥], here abbreviated to “to”) attached to a piece of brushwood (shiba [柴])*, for presentation to someone, as a trophy of the hunt.

    This curious object of display -- where one (or, by the sixteenth century, several) fowl, taken by the shōgun’s† hawkers, was presented to someone to whom he wished to show special favor‡, formally tied to a reed or branch -- appears to be taken directly out of the chronicles of Japanese chivalry. 

    The following block-print shows a pair of kabuki actors recreating the exchange of to-shiba in the kabuki [歌舞伎] drama Yuzuriha Kongen Soga [楪根元曾我] (the sketch was taken from the Kabuki Nendai Ki [歌舞伎年代記], a periodical that chronicled the famous plays year by year).  The reader should note carefully the condition of the branches**, as well as the way that the birds are positioned on the branches, since these were important points.

    The practice of tying the birds to the supporting branch is described in some detail in Section 66 of Yoshida Kenkō's [吉田兼好; c 1283 ~ 1350] Tsurezure-gusa [���然草]†† -- and it may have been the revival of interest in this material that inspired the creation of the present entry.  A translation of this and another historical document related to the arrangement of the to-shiba will follow this post, as appendices‡‡. ___________ *Shiba [柴], “brushwood,” is the general name for the various small trees and shrubs that populate the understory of a forest.  The wood from these plants is too small to be used for anything but fuel -- and Japanese woodcutters were employed to cut the shiba and process it into firewood (since the shiba represents a significant fire risk during the dry season).

†Or other high military figure or court noble.  In the account mentioned in the Tsurezure-gusa, the donor is the kampaku [関白], the premier or senior adviser to the Emperor, while the author of the other collection of comments was a hereditary court noble and direct descendant of one of the major branches of the Fujiwara clan.

‡While his kaiki suggest that Rikyū often received birds from Hideyoshi’s hawkers (who is said to have enjoyed riding with them in the Eastern Hills almost every day), there is no indication that they were ever presented in any such manner.  Rather, their intended purpose was to be used in Rikyū’s kaiseki, and so they were likely sent to him in a state that would facilitate his preparations.

    Nevertheless, the fact that Rikyū was apparently never so honored (we must remember, his kaiki relate to official gatherings that he hosted for Hideyoshi’s guests, or on behalf of Hideyoshi, thus the intended recipients of this largess were those guests, not Rikyū; the only “honorarium” of any sort mentioned in the kaiki is the gift of tea from Hideyoshi, and such gifts are only mentioned on occasions when Rikyū chose to share the tea with his guests) does not mean that Hideyoshi never sent a to-shiba to others.  Indeed, since indulging in this kind of practice was intended to paint the donor (Hideyoshi) with the same brush as the great shōgun of the past, it is very likely that HIdeyoshi employed the to-shiba as much in his propaganda efforts as the Tokugawa did later, in their own era.

**While the branches are considerably shorter than what is described in the Tsurezure-gusa, this seems to conform with the norms preferred from at least the sixteenth century onward (see the three sketches that were taken from Tanaka Senshō’s commentary, below).  The fact that the other elements of the two to-shiba conform with Yoshida Kenkō’s explanation (which he puts into the mouth of the royal huntmaster, Shimotsukeno Takekatsu), indicates that these precedents were well known, and still being observed at that time.

    Shibayama Fugen says nothing at all about this entry (beyond a rudimentary explanation of a couple of the special terms that are used) -- his lack of interest is not really surprising, given that he was a cleric -- while Tanaka Senshō only writes that “when birds are tied to a to-shiba, if they are a female and a male, the male should be above; this is a rule, so it has been handed downᵃ;” after which he attached the three sketches shown below.  He does not cite any source for the sketches -- or even imply that they were taken from some other work.

    The sketches, were, in fact, abstracted from a manuscriptᵇ written by Shijō Takashige [四條隆重; 1507 ～ 1539], a court noble whose house was directly descended from the northern branch of the Fujiwara family.  His writings, then, open a window onto the practices that were current during the sixteenth century that can only be grasped faintly through the sketchesᶜ (the writing on the sketches is explained immediately beneath each of them):

- (from right to left) katamune on-dori [かたむね男鳥] (the male bird [is oriented] with its breast sideways [toward the branch])ᵈ; ashi to kubi to no ma ni-sun nari [足と首との間二寸也] (the distance between the legs [of the upper bird] and the neck [of the lower bird] is 2-sun); tori yori shita isshaku [鳥より下一尺] (below the [lower] bird, [the branch extends] 1-shaku [more]); moromune me-tori [もろむね女鳥] (the female bird [is oriented] with the whole of its breast [facing toward the branch])ᵉ;

- hibari [雲雀] (skylark);

- (from the right) isshaku ni-sun [一尺二寸] (1-shaku 2-sun)ᶠ; kaki-ba [柿葉] (persimmon leaf). ___________ ᵃTo-shiba ni tori wo musubu-toki ni, shi-yū nare ba, osu wo ue ni nado, hō no aru koto to tsutaerarete iru [鳥柴に鳥を結ぶ時に、雌雄なれば、雄を上に抔、法のある事と伝へられてゐる].

ᵇHis writings were printed in the Gunsho Ruijū (Vol. 19) [羣書類、第19輯], which was originally printed in An-ei 8 [安永八年] (1779); and it was from a facsimile edition published between 1898 and 1902 that the sketches in Tanaka Senshō's commentary derive.

ᶜNevertheless, without Shijō Takashige’s accompanying explanations, the sketches are probably more misleading than informative -- and certainly the reasoning behind what is shown cannot be apprehended except by reading ones way through the text.

ᵈSee Appendix II, Part 1, for the full explanation.

ᵉSee Appendix II, Part 2, for the full explanation.

ᶠIt is not entirely clear to what this measurement refers, at least in so far as the sketch is concerned.

††The Tsurezure-gusa enjoyed a certain degree of popularity during the early Edo period, when people (both members of the military class, and the wealthy merchants) began to consult it as an authentic introduction to traditional Japanese manners and customs.

‡‡The passage from the Tsurezure-gusa will be translated as Appendix I; and the (much longer) material from the Gunsho Ruijū, as Appendix II, Parts 1 and 2.

²To-shiba wo sono-mama o-engawa ni kazaruru-koto [鳥柴を其まゝ御縁かわに被飾事].

    Sono-mama [其ま〻 = 其儘] means “as it is;” “without changing anything.” 

    The point is that the to-shiba should be displayed in exactly the same state that it was received, since this would intimate the donor's intentions.  Because a to-shiba was given from a superior to someone socially below him*, preserving the display in its original state was important.

    O-engawa [御縁かわ]:  the engawa [縁側]† is the wood-floored “veranda” that (usually, completely) surrounds the tatami covered inner rooms (from which it is always separated by a bank of shōji).  While today the engawa is often enclosed by glazed sliding doors along its outer edge, in the past it was frequently open to the elements (or sometimes separated from the outdoors by shutters, which traditionally folded upward and were held open by metal latches that extended up to the under-structure of the roof, so the veranda could be exposed during the daytime).

    According to the text of this entry, the to-shiba was supposed to be displayed on the engawa, either leaning against the balustrade‡, or perhaps resting on or against a type of stand**. __________ *Indeed, only persons of the highest rank would consider giving such a gift -- since only they commonly indulged in hawking.  Consequently, the receipt of a to-shiba, while of little actual value, was a great honor -- and one that a wealthy merchant would not only deeply cherish, but would take great pains that his associates view it as well.  This is, ultimately, the point of this entry.

†O- [御] is an honorific.  In this case, its presence has no impact on the meaning of the word engawa whatsoever.

‡This was the original way in which the to-shiba was displayed.

**I have been unable to find any clear description of this to-shiba-dai [鳥柴臺], though presumably it was similar to the stand against which a bow was leaned.  However, since the length of the branch to which the bird was tied decreased significantly between the classical period and the Edo period, perhaps the Edo period's to-shiba-dai was more like the stand for a flag pole -- a weighted base with a hole in the middle, into which the lower end of the branch was inserted.

    The final sentence in the entry (which was accidentally transposed to the end of the previous section in the Enkaku-ji manuscript of the Nampō Roku) suggests that a large tray was also placed underneath, probably to catch any blood or other fluids that might drip from the dead bird.  (While originally the bird was supposed to be removed and prepared for eating shortly after the to-shiba was received, it appears that in the Edo period the to-shiba was viewed as a kind of decoration, and so left standing on the veranda for as long as possible:  the fact that to-shiba were often dispatched during the cold months of the year would have aided in preventing the bird from starting to smell for up to several weeks; and meanwhile, flesh from the same kind of bird, procured in the market, could be served in the kaiseki.)

³Arui ha fumi ・ tanzaku nado [あるひハ文短尺など].

    Tanzaku [短尺] means tanzaku [短冊], the special piece of high-quality writing paper, cut to a size of 1-shaku 2-sun long by 2-sun wide*, on which a waka poem could be written in a single line of characters.

    Because the to-shiba was always a gift, it was polite for it to be accompanied by a letter, or at least a poem, written by the donor.  While in the classical period the poem might be chanted by the servant who delivered the to-shiba†, by the Edo period things had to be written down.

    While kaishi was the usual paper for doing so in the early days, by the Edo period it was apparently more common to write ones poem on a beautiful tanzaku (probably beforehand -- it is hard to imagine someone doing this on horseback while hunting in the mountains, since the results were going to be displayed and admired, after all), which could be dispatched together with the to-shiba.  And since, by then, it was understood that the bird affixed to a branch would be displayed (rather than consumed), there arose various systems detailing how the tanzaku was to be attached to the to-shiba, and what knots should be used when doing so‡. __________ *The reason for this precise size is explained in footnote 4, sub-note “‡,” of the post entitled Nampō Roku, Book 4 (16):  Rikyū’s Account of the Display of the Bun-dai [文臺] Beneath the Chigai-dana [違棚]. The URL for which is:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/190330994020/namp%C5%8D-roku-book-4-16-riky%C5%ABs-account-of-the

†Japanese poems were always intended to be chanted aloud, rather than simply read (or, worst of all, read silently).  Only then do the word-plays become clear.  As a result, servants with good voices appear to have made a nice supplemental income by delivering messages for their masters (since it was customary for the recipient to give the porter a tip).

‡The important thing was that the tanzaku should hang freely (rather than touching the floor), and be attached in such a way that the poem could be seen and read easily without making it necessary for the viewers (who would have been the recipient's guests) to catch hold of it, or otherwise fiddle with the arrangement.

    When a flower to which a tanzaku had been attached was displayed in the tokonoma, the same points had to be kept in mind

⁴Tsuke-yō ・ musubi-yō shina-jina kore-ari [付様・むすひやう品〻有之].

    Tsuke-yō [付け様] refers to the way -- and where -- that the tanzaku* was to be attached to the to-shiba.

    Musubi-yō [結び様] means the way that the cord (which was used to attach the tanzaku to the branch) should be tied.

    Shina-jina kore-ari [品々��これあり] means various ways (of attaching and tying) exist.  Indeed, the different schools of etiquette all had their secret methods -- which could be learned (for a fee)†.

    The tanzaku or other missive was supposed to be attached by the sender, not the recipient‡. __________ *Letters were prepared and attached differently again -- for example, folded into a long strip, which was then tied around the branch in a strategic (and sometime hidden -- depending on the contents of the letter and how public those details were intended to be) location.

†That people did not always feel that the etiquette schools were entitled to make a profit off of such nonsense...was the cause of the infamous falling out between Asano Naganori [浅野長矩; 1667 ~ 1701] and Kira Yoshinaka [吉良義央; 1641 ~ 1703].

‡Which does not mean that things were always done in that way -- particularly when the recipient was making more of a fuss about the receipt of a to-shiba than the sender had intended.  Thus the merchants often had to consult experts, so that the method of attachment was appropriate for the lord who had sent the to-shiba to them.

⁵Dai bon nado naku de mo [臺盆等なくても].

    This sentence was inadvertently moved to the end of the previous entry (where it was irrelevant) when the texts were copied.  I have restored it here, based on Shibayama Fugen’s arguments.

    The purpose of the dai [臺] was to hold the to-shiba upright, so it would not fall over.  The bon [盆] was placed underneath to catch any blood or other fluids that might drip from the dead bird.

    On account of the length of the branch that was supposed to be used, however, the to-shiba would remain stationary, if it was placed carefully.  Furthermore, since the bird was taken by a hawk, there would be little chance of any fluids dripping from the carcass -- at least if the to-shiba were only displayed for a short time*.

    That said, since the receipt of such a thing was considered a great honor (and since the Japanese usually did not eat meat), the inclination to keep the to-shiba standing outside of ones shoin for as long as possible was probably overwhelming to people of a certain social class†, hence the need for these precautions. __________ *The to-shiba was an elegant way to present someone with game taken during the hunt.  The flesh of the bird was intended for human consumption, rather than decoration.  Nevertheless, people being what they are, the inclination to keep the to-shiba standing outside of ones shoin for as long as possible (while serving the same kind of fowl -- acquired at the market -- during the kaiseki) was probably overwhelming.

    The receipt of a to-shiba could well have provided the host with an excellent pretext for holding a chakai, depending on the social status of the recipient.

†The machi-shū, whose wealth meant that they were occasionally honored in this way by daimyō who owed them money, or were seeking other financial favors.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

The Before and After

Requested by: @hitsuhinalover​

Rating: K+

Setting: A year before Ichigo and co. entered the Soul Society, then a year after the Winter War.

Synopsis: Before Ichigo arrived and even after the war with the Quincy, Toshiro and Momo’s lives are always busy.

AN: Thank for this request @hitsuhinalover​, this was an interesting fanfic to write.It was partly inspired by this song (thank you for the recommendation @xxhanabifireworksxx​ ;) ) which made me think back on the history between these two again, and how it would be different before and after Aizen’s betrayal. Neither of them could have predicted what would happen between them...Any how, please enjoy this fanfic!

“Matsumoto, are you out here?” Toshiro calls out for the umpteenth time. “You can’t just keep running away from your paperwork!”

Toshiro surveys the small courtyard, not a trace of her or anyone else in sight or in reiatsu. This was the third time this week she’d avoided doing any paperwork. A vein his temple would start to throb any second now. His lieutenant was going to shorten his life, he just knows it.

With a grumbling sigh, he dashes off to the next place she’s likely to be: the third division. Along the way he detects many reiatsu, but none of them hers. Some of the shinigami he passes give him a weary berth, no doubt sensing his growing irritation.

If he weren’t so focused on finding his lieutenant, the captain would have appreciated the weather. It’s that time of the year when the Soul Society was on the cusp of winter. The winds are cold and crisp, the sun sets earlier, and the clouds glide at the edges of the horizon, slowly making their way to the Seiretei. Save for the overly-determined thenth division captain rushing through the Seireitei, it’s a peaceful and quiet day.

When Toshiro finally gets to the third division – planning to search the entire division top to bottom before going it’s captain, who he had no doubt would hide Rangiku if need be – he stops in his tracks. She hadn’t noticed him, and he’s quick to conceal his reiatsu.

He simply stares at her for a moment, watching her hair ribbons sway in the gentle breeze. She sits on the edge of the veranda, looking out to the garden with Gin’s infamous persimmon tree at the centre of it. However, her head tilts down to the paperwork in her lap, and he faintly hears her chastising herself for getting distracted.

That almost made the corner of his lip twitch upward. Typical bed-wetter.

But that begged the question; what was she doing here? He’s quickly given the answer when he senses Aizen’s reiatsu nearby in the Third division office, along with Gin’s.

Looking at her now, other questions start to rise up. When was the last time he saw her? Did he even have time to speak with her now? More importantly, when would he get this chance again?

With some effort, he pushes against his will to carry out his duties and focuses on her. Without making a sound, he flash-steps to the lieutenant, stopping a metre behind. His frown deepens when she doesn’t turn or acknowledge him.  He kneels down and leans forward. “Oi!”

She yelps and flings herself off from the veranda, almost tripping over her feet as she spins around. Her paperwork goes flying from her lap. Toshiro snatches a paper floating through the air and takes a seat on the veranda’s edge while she recovers. “You really need to work on detecting reiatsu,” he observes flatly.

“S-S-Shiro-chan?!” she stutters.

“It’s ‘Captain Hitsugaya’, Hinamori.”

“What is wrong with you? Why did you sneak up on me like?!”

He vaguely looks over the report while she rants and picks up the scattered papers. “To prove a point.” He holds out the paper he caught, causing her to stop. “Here.”

It’s like a peace offering after frightening her. With a sigh, she takes the report from him. “There are better ways to do that, you know.”

The slight jab of guilt is enough to make him pick up any nearby papers and hand them to her. He watches her as she sits back on the veranda and sorts through the reports, muttering about them being in the wrong order.

“What’re doing here , Hitsugaya-kun?” she asks, not looking up from her work.

He knows she’s deliberately avoiding using his title; this is what he gets for scaring her. “Looking for Matsumoto. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her come through here?”

Momo shakes her head while checking the papers are in the correct order. “No, I haven’t. Is she avoiding paperwork again?”

Toshiro grumbles and rolls his eyes. “As per usual…unlike some. Why are waiting out here and not with Aizen?”

The lieutenant finally looks at him, a slight pout in her lips. “Hitsugaya-kun, you really need to start calling him ‘Captain Aizen’, it’s really disrespectful.”

“And you not referring to me by my title isn’t?”

She huffs, ignoring the question. “If you must know, Captain Aizen had some important things to discuss with Captain Ichimaru.”

At this Toshiro raises a brow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. He just said they were important training exercises for the new recruits. We’re planning to have a training day with the third division in the next month.”

“I see.”

The silence that follows is an odd one. It dawns on him that the last time they saw each other – three months ago to be exact – was very similar to this. Was this all they ever talked about now? He remembers conversations involving the going-ons in the Junrinan and reminisces and musings about the past. He remembers when she would gush about a good book read or show off her latest sketches. He remembers when he would tell her about his latest sculptures and which ones were going into the next Sereitei Communication magazine. When had that all stopped?

As if reading his mind, Momo turns to him with a small, almost sad smile. “I’ve hardly seen you around the Soul Society. Have you been busy?”

He nods. “As busy as you and Captain Aizen.”

“With what?”

“We’ve been sent on quite a few missions to the World of the Living. The reports have been stacking up.” That only reminds him that his lieutenant is still out there, hiding from her duties and making his temple throb. “It doesn’t help that Matsumoto feels she can run off whenever she wants.”

Momo frowns. “I hope you’re giving yourself breaks…you have a tendency to overwork.”

He waves a hand, dismissive. “I’m all right.” A partial lie, but the last thing he wants is to worry her.

She’s about to say something else, until they both hear the third division’s office door slide open. Momo hastily stands up as her captain steps out on to the veranda. “Captain Aizen!”

He turns and makes his way to them. “Ah, Hinamori-kun…and Captain Hitsugaya, it’s been a while.”

The lieutenant’s eyes practically glow as he approaches. “I trust the meeting went well?”

His smile widens. “Indeed.” He shifts his attention to Toshiro. “Are you also here to see Captain Ichimaru?”

Toshiro stands and brushes off his knees. “I was looking for my lieutenant, but I don’t believe she’s here.” He crosses his arms through his sleeves. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go find her.”

Aizen raises a hand. “Ah, wait Captain Hitsugaya, don’t let me interrupt you and Hinamori-kun.”

Toshiro shakes his head. “It’s fine. I need to get back to my duties, with or without Matsumoto.”

Momo nods “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“That’ll only make her want to keep hiding. Just don’t say anything.”

“Will do,” Aizen says with a chuckle.

Just as he turns to leave, Momo pipes up and takes hold of his wrist. “Oh, wait, Captain Hitsugaya…”

He blinks. She called him by his title for once and is holding his hand - right in front of Aizen no less.

“We should go see Granny together sometime.”

Her earnest smile sends a pang through his chest. We never do though. He pulls hand away from hers and raises it in a lazy wave, not looking back at her as he walks away. “Sure.”

The sound of construction had become a constant for Toshiro in the past year. It has gotten to the point where he barely notices it anymore, and the occasional silences are almost jarring. However, there was a constant he can always count on this time of the year that wasn’t so peculiar: the snowfall.

Normally, the captain would be with his lieutenant overseeing the construction their division was tasked with, but today’s conditions were too harsh to carry out the task. He gave everyone the day off, much to Rangiku’s relief. After giving him a near suffocating hug, she dashes off to one of her favourite bars, wondering aloud if either Shuhei or Izuru were free to come with her.

Toshiro watches her go, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. She didn’t abandon her duties as much anymore, and given the events of both wars they’d been through, he’s happy to see his friend so gleeful. She wraps her shawl tighter around her shoulders before running off into the winter’s day.

The captain turns on his heel and goes through the door behind him to the balcony, continuing on his way to the thirteenth division. The two divisions had been working to reconstruct a communal courtyard and he needs to sign off on the relevant paperwork. He pulls his scarf higher up his nose when he leaves the shade of the awnings and steps out on to the recently constructed overpass. He goes at a leisurely pace, taking in the gentle snowfall.

He is in his element, possibly at his most comfortable all year round. When was the last time he had truly appreciated the snow? Years ago, when things were at peace atop a deception he was unknowingly part of…

The corners of his lips form a frown. Those were memories that will never leave him, that will never not have an impact on him. However, its days like today that can sooth away the emotions those memories brought.

He takes the nearest staircase down to the ground level once he crosses the overpass. He stops on the last step when he sees her. On an old instinct h conceals his reiatsu.

Momo sits on the veranda’s edge, her back turned to him and her head bowed over whatever’s in her lap. Her hair is dusted with snow and hangs freely. When the wind picks up, the strands sway around her neck, as does the end of red and pink striped scarf. It was one he and Rangiku had bought for birthday last year.

She didn’t appear to have heard him coming down the stairs. Toshiro gets a sense of déjà vu, but ignores it. It’s been a long time since he snuck up on her – it had once been one of his favourite pranks to play on her when he was younger – and up until three years ago he had done it without a second thought. But now he hesitates, a small part of him unsure about how she will react.

He can’t stop the flush of guilt slicing through his chest when he remembers seeing her in the fourth division after the Winter War. He made many silent vows to her during that one visit, and one of them was to not tease her as much as he once had. A small part of him – for better or worse – worried that he had taken his teasing too far over the years, that she believed some of the harsher comments he made about her. Their relationship was as back to normal as they could make it, but he still has his reservations every now and then.

Perhaps he can allow himself this one instance, for old time sake. He flash-steps up a few metres behind her and crouches down. He starts to-

“Hello, Shiro-chan.”

He blinks when she turns her head over her shoulder. Her lips smile widens into a grin. “I knew it was you!”

He raises both eyebrows, unable to speak for several heartbeats. “You’ve gotten better.”

“I got sick of you sneaking up on me,” she teases. “Although, it’s been a while since you’ve done that.”

He straightens, quick to fold his arms into his sleeves and regain his composure. She clearly didn’t have any reservations about teasing him still. “What’re you doing out here?”

She lifts the sketchbook up from her lap. It’s only then he notices the wooden box of pencils and cloth bag at her side. On the page he can make out an almost complete sketch of the gardens before her. The leafless trees and shrubs spotted around, the frozen over pond spanning over most of the area, and of course, at the centre of it all, the ugendo quarters that once housed Jushiro. Thinking of his old friend tightens Toshiro’s chest, and it must show on his face, because Momo’s grin falls away.

“Hitsugaya-kun?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine…and it’s ‘Captain Hitsugaya’.”

She nods, not entirely convinced. “Of course. So, are you here to see Kuchiki-san?”

The captain withholds a sigh and comes to stand at the ledge next to her. “I need to sign off on a few reports. And why are you here?”

She turns her attention back to her sketch and continues where she left off. “A week ago, Kuchiki-san and I needed to discuss things that happened at the last Women’s Association meeting.” At the mention of the infamous association, Toshiro inwardly cringed. Somehow it’s still going strong after all of this…Momo continued on, oblivious to his reaction.  “I just happened to walk by their main garden and I knew I had to draw it while it was like this. I’ve been coming here the past few days on my breaks, but today the Captain let everyone have the day off.”

“I see.”

She looks up to observe the side of the ugendo quarters facing toward them. “I don’t know what it is about this view, but it just…captivated me.”

When was the last time they talked like this? The revelation hits him hard enough to make his lips part and his frown soften. When was the last time their conversations didn’t involve work or apologies or solemn observations about the ways things had gone down between them?

There would have been a time where he’d hesitate to continue talking with her, wanting to get on with his duties; but for a chance to speak to her like this, he will risk it.

He kneels next to her, looking out to the snowy scene. He tries to understand what she saw here that made her want to draw. He knows when she’s feeling creative, she ends to get poetic or metaphorical about her subject. “Perhaps because it’s ‘frozen in time’?”

That gives her pause, her pencil stopping mid line. A chuckles looses from her, and when he gives her a quizzically look, it turns it into a quiet laugh. She covers her mouth as she tries to calm down “I didn’t know you did puns, Shiro.”

His frown deepens and his lip curls in annoyance. “I wasn’t.”

She pulls her hand away from her lips and waves it in apology. “I know…” She looks back out to the garden. “But I think you’re right. I like it because there’s no movement, no sense of time. It’s still and quiet…nothing changes here.” Her smile shortens into something more sombre. “But outside of this, a lot has changed and is still changing, isn’t it?”

Her works unlock a part of him he rarely lets out; a vulnerable side that only she seems to have access to. “I don’t recognise half of this place anymore. There are times where I don’t even recognise the people around me.”

“Yeah, me too…It doesn’t scare me as much as it use to, because there will always be changes.” In the short pause, she shifts a bit closer to him almost shoulder to shoulder. “We’ve changed too…”

He doesn’t admit there were times where he didn’t recognise her. Her hair has gotten longer since he last saw her, almost reaching her shoulders. She holds herself with a wear confidence, built from the hardships she went through. However, it was always her eyes that he had trouble recognising in those moments. They’re not as wide as they use to be, and a different brightness lights them – not one built from overly optimistic beliefs and naivety, but from experience and overcoming her inner demons. None of it makes her any less sweet or kind, however. Some things did change, but some things stay the same even with those changes, he realises.

He’s brought out of his thought when Momo shakes her head. “Sorry, I haven’t seen you in so long and I end up talking like this.”

“It’s fine.”

She sighs, her breath fogging in the wind, resigned. “We hardly see each other these days, huh? I guess that hasn’t changed for us, at least.”

She hadn’t intended the remark to be cutting, he knows, but it still stung. In hindsight, neither of them had made active steps to change this before and after the traumatic events they went through. He could go through the usual motions – agree with her, make a plan to see Granny together or go to the Junrinan that they’ll never fulfil, and continue to focus on his duties rather than his very small personal life. It’s what he did before, and it’s what he still does.

“Wait here.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll be back.”

It takes him less than five minutes to flash-step to the thirteenth division’s office, sign the relevant reports as indicated by Rukia, then come back to Momo, who isn’t the least bit startled by his sudden reappearance. She merely frowns in confusion. She really has improved…

“What was that about?” she asks.

“I’m free now.”

“Eh?”

“If you want to stop pouting then we need to change things.” He brings the scarf high up his neck, almost cover his mouth, when the wind picks up. “Nothing is going to change if we keep doing what we’ve always done. There’ve…There’ve  been changes that neither of us wanted, but what about one we do want?”

Momo’s expression practically says ‘Where did all of that come from?’. Even Toshiro didn’t understand where his words came from at first, but then it slowly dawns on him. He has always been slow change who he is, but after everything he went through, he knows things that can’t stay the way they are.

He almost lost her more than once in the span of a few years. Up until Aizen’s betrayal, he’d hardly seen her. After Aizen’s betrayal, he still hardly saw her. What would he have thought about their life together if she had died in any of the moments? What if he loses her in the coming years?

The Soul Society is slowly returning to a peaceful state, but who knows what threats lurk around the corner. No, he can’t risk it again. With his shortened lifespan from the de-zombification, he needs to make the most of his time with her.

While he was lost in his thoughts, she’d gathered up her pencils and sketchbook and stored them into her cloth bag. The smile she adorns makes his heart flutter and his cheeks warm up a few degrees. It’s all the answer he needs.

Momo stands, not breaking her gaze as she slides the bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go to the Junrinan, then.”

He grunts in agreement and lets her lead the way out of the thirteenth division’s ground. At some point in their journey, she had reached over and taken his hand, but he only realises it when they near the White Road Gate’s exit.

This time, he doesn’t let go.

[kevinscottgardens]

14 - 22 November 2020

This has been a busy week. I emptied my storage unit Monday with the help of two men and a van. They were super fast; it only took them a half hour to remove my belongings to their vehicle. The filled my room in Richmond with all my worldly belongings.

I spend the rest of Monday consolidating and culling. It seems all my belongings take up around 200 cubic feet or five and a half cubic metres. Not a lot of stuff. I’m still finalising my move from Richmond to Antibes.

I walked from Barnes Bridge to Chelsea Physic Garden on Tuesday to see Rui.

We then perambulated along the River Thames to Vauxhall. It was nice to see everyone at work one last time. The walk across London brought back many memories of when I first arrived and explored this vast city.

Wednesday I put some things in the post to Rob in New York City, I returned spare keys to Pasquale in Brixton and I bought a little parting thank you gift for Ann at Fortnum and Mason. In the late afternoon I took a walk with Ginny to say goodbye. I finished the evening soaking in the hot tub with a cold beer.

Thursday I finalised movers, enjoyed a delicious dinner with Nicholas and Christopher, and one last soak in the hot tub at Elizabeth and Rob’s. The movers will come next week and pack everything into a crate then stored in a warehouse until they load the lorry that will bring my things to me around 10 December. Ann is already missing my KitchenAid mixer. 

Friday, I finally caught up with previous blog posts - my 1,000th post! I was packing until dinner time. Ann made a delicious meal and Kitty joined as well. It’s been a surreal departure from London. I didn’t ring around to everyone knowing I couldn’t have any kind of leaving do and I certainly didn’t have the time to meet everyone individually. So a few have learned the news by my Instagram posts.

My alarm sounded at 4am Saturday morning. I took an Uber to Heathrow Terminal Two (only terminals two and five are operating at this time due to the second lockdown and CoVid). The flight was packed. I had a brief layover in Paris and had to run through Charles de Gaulle to make my connecting flight to Nice.

Thankfully all my luggage made it too. Sarah-Jane, the chef, collected me in the blue Fiat 500. We made a brief stop at a grocery store then returned to the property, l’Orangerie, my new home. The views from her place are stunning. Alek is still in the house I will occupy after he departs. I’m very grateful to get to work with him all next week.

Plant of the week

Ebenaceae Diospyros kaki L.f.

common name(s) - persimmon, Chinese date plum, Chinese persimmon, Japanese persimmon, oriental persimmon, Sharon fruit; français : kaki synonym(s) - Diospyros amara Perrier; D. argyi H.Lév.; D. bertii André; D. chinensis Blume [Invalid]; D. costata Carrière; D. kaempferi Naudin; D. kaki var. aurantium André; D. kaki var. domestica Makino; D. kaki var. elliptica André; D. kaki var. kaki; D. kaki var. macrantha Hand.-Mazz.; D. kaki var. sahuti André; D. kaki var. silvestris Makino; D. lycopersicon Carrière; D. mazelii E.Morren; D. roxburghii Carrière; D. schi-tse Bunge; D. schitze Bunge; D. sinensis Naudin; D. sphenophylla Hiern; D. trichocarpa R.H.Miao; D. wieseneri Carrière; Embryopteris kaki (Thunb.) G.Don conservation rating - none native to - China, India, Taiwan, Vietnam location - l’Orangerie leaves - medium to dark green, broadly lanceolate, stiff and equally wide as long, up to 20cm, which turn yellow, orange, red and purple in autumn flowers - small, pale yellow, bell-shaped flowers are produced in summer followed, on female trees, by edible, yellow or orange persimmon fruit (morphologically the fruit is in fact a berry) habit - spreading deciduous tree habitat - temperate and tropical conditions, being susceptible to occasional frosts in spring; requires warm summers with a high incidence of solar radiation and preferably long days that favour defoliation before fruit ripening pests - generally pest-free disease - generally disease-free hardiness - to -10ºC (H4) soil - deep, fertile, well-drained loam sun - full sun, sheltered from cold wind and late spring frosts propagation - seed sown as soon as ripe pruning - damaged, dead, diseased nomenclature - Ebenaceae - ; Diospyros - ; kaki - NB - typically either male or female, but some produce both types of flowers; furthermore, the sexual expression of a tree may vary from year to year; male flowers are pink and appear in groups of three; they have a four-parted calyx, a corolla, and 24 stamens in two rows; female flowers are creamy-white and appear singly; they have a large calyx, a four-parted, yellow corolla, eight undeveloped stamens, and a rounded ovary bearing the style and stigma; 'perfect' flowers are a cross between the two.

References, bibliography:

Gledhill, David, (2008) “The Names of Plants”, fourth edition; Cambridge University Press; ISBN: 978-0-52168-553-5

IUCN [online] http://www.iucnredlist.org/search [22 Nov 20]

Plant List, The [online] http://www.theplantlist.org/tpl1.1/record/kew-2769959 [22 Nov 20]

Plants of the World [online] http://plantsoftheworldonline.org/taxon/urn:lsid:ipni.org:names:322553-1 [22 Nov 20]

Royal Horticultural Society [online] https://www.rhs.org.uk/Plants/5919/i-Diospyros-kaki-i-(F)/Details [22 Nov 20]

Wikipedia [online] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Persimmon [22 Nov 20]

Ibid [online] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diospyros_kaki [22 Nov 20]

SARS-CoVid-2 update (active cases only)

[bulgarianmermaid]

There are places you know you will miss from the first moment you set your eyes on them. Those places feel like home without you even having thought of visiting them let alone living there before. Deep into the Caucasus Mountains, where Georgia ends and Russia begins, at the top of Cross Pass outside Gudauri, you can still find high mountain peaks, desolate roads, rugged landscape, and unexplored wilderness that make my heart sing. High up there, where >5000m peaks kiss the bright blue sky and most people lose their breath, that is where I get found. The wilderness speaks directly to my soul, it calls my wild heart, it urges me to explore. It calms me down, I sleep without a single worry, nothing matters and all our “modern” concerns seem like “first world problems”.

The real Georgia in winter is cold and snowy, rough around the edges, wild and untamable, high in altitude and strong in liquor content. Just how I like my destinations (and my men) ❤ A few places in the American West had such a profound effect on me, an effect so strong I didn’t want to leave, let alone go back to the city. The Caucasus Mountains remind me of the San Juans in Southwest Colorado high up Red Mountain Pass from Ouray to Silverton – a place where I camped without a tent at 12000ft elevation and that experience was the best birthday present I could have ever asked for ❤

Gudauri is the largest ski resort in Georgia hidden deep in the Caucasus Mountains on Georgia Military Road almost all the way to the Russian border. Gudauri Ski Resort‘s base is at >2000m, its highest chair lift reaches 3200m, so with a vertical drop top to bottom on a ski run 1200m, it will surely make your legs shake 🙂 All 75km of groomed ski runs in Gudauri sit above tree line facing the sun and grant you the view of a lifetime every single chair ride. In terms of snow conditions, terrain quality, lift services and variety of ski runs, Gudauri can rival any ski resort in the Alps and the Rockies. Gudauri just added 4 new chair lifts this season and opened a whole new valley on the back side (Kobi) to off piste skiing and riding. Yet you can still have the whole resort to yourself and ski right behind the snow cat on empty slopes during the week.

Since I was in Gudauri for 2 weeks with IntotheWild.bg, we could choose what to do each day depending on the conditions and we rode off piste every time we got a foot of new snow. On the days when Ullr didn’t deliver overnight freshies, we basked in the sun and rode soft groomers. Because when you go to the Caucasus Mountains you get equally spoiled by fresh snow and freshly groomed slopes! Gudauri Ski Resort offers 3 valleys with lift serviced terrain for off piste skiing/riding. In addition, there are multiple backcountry and ski touring routes if you are willing to take a hike for an hour or two and earn your turns.

PC: @intothewild.bg

PC: Veselin Dochev

On our days off from skiing (2 in total for two weeks), we checked the Russian baths in Gudauri (Tsar Bani) for an authentic experience at the highest steam baths in the world and took a shuttle to the village of Kazbegi to visit Rooms Hotel for its signature view which overlooks Mt Kazbeg and Gergeti Trinity Church from the balcony. Only later did I find that Mt Kazbeg (>5000m = >16000ft) is a dormant volcano, no wonder I fell in love with it at first sight!

In Gudauri I recommend staying at Quadrum Hotel (under $100 for a double room, breakfast with a view included). Brand new and built only with natural materials in simple and modern Scandinavian style, it offers a spa and swimming pool, as well as daily yoga classes to meet all your post-skiing / hiking needs and soothe your sore muscles. There is a bar and restaurant on site as well where you can grab dinner as you’ll be exhausted after a day of skiing and unwilling to look for a place to eat down the road in town at night.

  In Kazbegi Rooms Hotel (over $100 for double room, breakfast with a view included) gets my vote for fantastic design, superb amenities, fusion cuisine and incredible service. You’ll notice there are many cheaper options in Georgia but as with every developing country, you get what you pay for, so be careful how excited you get about a budget room, especially if your budget can accommodate a comfier experience 🙂 Remember to book both hotels well in advance as they usually sell out during the main season.

    Considering my obsession with high mountain passes, Georgia Military Road deserves its own blogpost but I’ll try to give it enough attention here before I return to explore it further in summer. Georgia Military Road is one of ONLY 2 passes that connect Georgia with Russia over the Caucasus Mountains. Being a major road artery, the pass is usually well cleaned after a snow storm (or completely closed during one) and is quite busy with semi truck traffic. The highest point is Cross pass (Jvari Pass) right outside Gudauri Ski Resort at 2379m (7815ft). In winter the road works only in one direction in 2 hr intervals as the “tunnels” (actually avalanche barriers) are too narrow for two trucks to pass at the same time. There is a separate lane for summer that allows two way traffic but it is closed in winter as it is too dangerous to drive on that sliver of asphalt on the cliffside with no barriers and vertical drops at most places.

The never ending “tunnels” between Gudauri and Kazbegi are probably the most freakish roads I have ever passed (and to think I was considering hitchhiking there…) There is no light inside, no road markings or directions, the tunnels curve and are very narrow (remember…one way traffic). If I told you there would be light at the end of the tunnel (literally), would you follow me high up in the Caucasus Mountains in the middle of a snow storm, on windy one-lane roads through pitch-black avalanche barriers? And if you did the reward would be one of the greatest views of Mt Kazbeg you’ve ever seen (and a cocktail in the swanky bar at the posh Rooms Hotel Kazbegi)

    Georgia may seem far and off the beaten path to the weekend traveler, yet there are multiple flights daily from Europe to Tbilisi and Kutaishi. We opted for budget travel and I’m SO glad we did! The bus-shuttle-plane-taxi experience gave our trip such a good and authentic start. Since we were coming from Bulgaria, we took the bus to Turkey (6hrs overnight from Plovdiv to Istambul in the coldest night of the year), schlepped our luggage from the bus station to the airport with a shuttle (which took another 1.5hrs), then jumped on a flight to Tbilisi (2.5hrs of crammed leg space) and finished our trip with a taxi to Gudauri (add 2 more hours where we were so exhausted the taxi driver could have taken us anywhere and I wouldn’t have cared as long as he let me sleep 🙂

  The travel was very oriental and interesting, safe, cheap, and by no means difficult. Culture shock abound for my Western friends every step of the way – squat toilets with no paper at the Bulgarian-Turkish border (yes, we had to cross the border on foot at night in the middle of a rainstorm), perfumed alcohol in the bus to disinfect your hands, having to haggle for your bottled water (because you have to haggle for everything in the Middle East), et all. Since we were coming from a place with no snow and going thru a place with no snow, everyone was really interested in us and where we are going with all this snowboarding gear. Some people had never seen snow, most couldn’t even perceive the idea that we were taking a bus to a shuttle to a plane to a taxi to a winter resort in Georgia almost on the border with Russia.

    To get from Tbilisi to the mountains you have to experience the famous Georgian driving on steep and windy mountain roads. My recommendation is to hold on tight and not look at what the driver is doing…prayer also helps 🙂 You thought Istambul driving was crazy, wait till you see Georgia. If you don’t abide to above rules, you’ll die of heart attack WAY before you actually crash. Locals drive these roads every day, your shuttle driver is well aware of what he is doing, save him your backseat driver speech 🙂

    The capital of Georgia – Tbilisi (aka ТиБилЛиСи in Bulgarian) is also called Tiflis in Turkey where I almost missed my flight not being able to find Tbilisi on the dashboard. And while the US has Facebook and Russia has V Kontakte, Tbilisi has Balcony.ge. People observe and share everything from their balconies 🙂 There is balcony architecture, balcony culture, balcony parties, basically “Welcome to the Land of Balconies!”

    Having covered skiing and travel in Georgia, now onto food and wine! What should you try from the famous Georgian cuisine? Basically everything…more than once – Kachapuri (homemade cheese and egg “pastry”), Khinkali (meat or veggie dumplings), Shashlik (meat skewers), breads, yogurt, cheeses, jams, jellies, soups, pickled veggies, spices!!! Based on the cuisines I had tasted before, I found Georgian dishes to resemble a mix of Armenian, Turkish, Russian, and Eastern European flavors but maybe those countries borrowed their spices and intricate preparations from Georgia, who knows…

    Georgia produces both red and white wines grown in a special viticultural region. The red is served hot and spiced on the slopes – a must for this apres-ski loving gal! Two other beverages to try are cognac and chacha. Georgia produces some of the best cognac in the world, I recommend the 5 or 8 yrs old aged varieties. And don’t forget to buy some as gifts for home! Chacha is the local name for homemade vodka / raki / moonshine. It is made from different fermented fruits. Drinking chacha is a Georgian tradition – don’t you dare refuse a toast – and resembles tequila tasting in Mexico. You will get drunk, for sure!!! The supermarket varieties go up to 55 proof while home-made chacha can be all the way up to 85 proof. I was super lucky to try a 65 proof persimmon homemade chacha aged in oak barrels on the slopes. You bet I brought some home 🙂

Last but definitely not least, I couldn’t get over was how sweet, kind, and hospitable the locals were, everywhere! Georgia is still very real, rural in places and rough around the edges at times, but that just adds to its local charm. Go visit while it is an up and coming destination, affordable and a developing tourist market and not yet full of foreigners and skiers. There is just SO MUCH to see and explore in Georgia, I only went to Gudauri and the Kazbegi Region but I will definitely be back in summer to hike the Caucasus Mountains, visit the wine region and experience the famous Tbilisi nightlife!

Svaneti in Summer – PC: @zermatterhorn

Gudauri Ski Resort, Georgia – A Gem Hidden Deep in the Caucasus Mountains There are places you know you will miss from the first moment you set your eyes on them.

[theleaderdotinfo-blog]

IN THE BUNKER WITH MICK THE GRIP has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2018/11/21/in-the-bunker-with-mick-the-grip-4/

New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2018/11/21/in-the-bunker-with-mick-the-grip-4/

IN THE BUNKER WITH MICK THE GRIP

THE ILE AUX CERFS Golf Club, Mauritius, a combination of golf course and paradise. On an island separated from the mainland by a turquoise lagoon, it boasts a luxurious hotel voted one of the world’s best.  Designed by Bernhard Langer, the course features volcanic outcrops, lakes and gullies, with some tee shots across sea inlets.  Unfortunately, the Indian Ocean is rising and it may not be long before golfers are issued with an inflatable buggy and a mask and snorkel. YOU HAVE TO FEEL SORRY for these golf superstars who slave away designing courses on unspoilt tropical islands.  Also spare a thought for Masa Nishijima, International Consultant for Top 100 Golf Courses.  It is his melancholy duty to play on every contender for ‘World’s Top Courses’ and help to rate them accordingly.  Masa has played everywhere from Royal Melbourne to Ballybunion while compiling his list.  I suppose somebody has to do it. HAVING GROWN UP in Merseyside, Tommy Fleetwood will be very much the home-town hero when he hosts the 2019 British Masters at Hillside golf club, near Southport.  The tournament, which has been moved to May and is at present without a sponsor, will mark the European Tour’s first visit to Hillside since Tony Jacklin won the Sun Alliance PGA - the precursor to the BMW PGA Championship – in 1982.  THE EUROPEAN TOUR’S exhausting 2019 schedule features 48 tournaments in 31 countries spanning 5 continents.  The Tour’s efforts to make golf more inclusive and FUN will see the return of GolfSixes, to be played in Portugal, World Super Six Perth, the Shot Clock Challenge and the Belgian Knockout .  January’s Abu Dhabi HSBC Championship will be added to the Rolex Series and the prize fund increased to €7m to bring it in line with the other Rolex Series events (Irish Open, Scottish Open, BMW PGA Championship, Italian Open, Turkish Airlines Open, Nedbank Golf Challenge and the DP World Tour Championship.) The French Open has been dropped from the series, which will do nothing to improve the Entente Cordiale. WAS GOLF HARDER 25 years ago?  Roger Chapman, European Tour golfer in the 80’s says: “If you were behind a tree you could manoeuvre the ball 30-40 yards. These days it just reaches its peak and then falls out of the air. The old ball would carry on bending. I was in the top third of driving distances on the European Tour in the Persimmon days with about 260 yards, now I’m 25 years older and hitting it 25 yards further. Everyone has to go with technology but I preferred it before, the sound of Persimmon was just a great noise. Now it is just ‘get it in the air quickly and let it fly.’  The combination of club and ball means they can hit it 340 yards which seems all wrong.” LEE WESTWOOD’S GIRLFRIEND Helen Storey was on the bag when he won the Nedbank Challenge.  She will now be a permanent fixture, replacing his caddie of ten years, Billy Foster, who’s last pairing with Westwood was at the Turkish Airlines Open the week before, when Westwood tied for 35th place.  Foster said he and Westwood have parted on good terms, “Although he might have waited more than a week before winning a million dollars!” ALONGSIDE THE updated R & A and USPGA Official Rules of Golf book, a printed and digital copy of the Players Edition has been introduced as a more user-friendly version, with illustrations and easy to follow diagrams and charts.   Access via the R&A website and app.  My opinion of the new rules in force from January is as follows: Like: Drop from knee height.   Like: Can repair damage including spike marks on greens. Dislike:  Putting with the pin in.  Can’t understand why they didn’t consult me first. WHAT A TWIT:  Bubba Watson had to show off his chip shot despite bring 41,000 ft up in a private plane, sending a golfball straight down the aisle.  The applause would have been short-lived if it had gone through the windscreen.    Until next time, Happy Golfing. Contact Mick for regripping and repairs. 638 859 475.   

[marketingadvisorvietnam]

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

Marketing Advisor đã viết bài trên http://www.ticvietnam.vn/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season-22/

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

It is a time when the soul turns poetic, mesmerized and spellbound by the charisma that autumn bestows on Hanoi.

The scent of milk flowers in the wind

Green rice scent in your little hands

Leave a fragrance in your footsteps.

Trinh Cong Son’s song, Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi (Missing Hanoi’s Autumn), would play on my neighborhood’s old loudspeaker when I was a little kid.

The indelible memory that evokes extraordinary beauty is refreshed anew every October as I wake up, open the window and a calm and gentle breeze ruffles my hair.

The sun seems mellowed, too.

There are fragrances and hints of fragrances in the air, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste.

When it all seems like a beautiful dream, I know autumn is here, here in Hanoi.

Autumn in Hanoi is a transcendent season. It becomes the muse for poets, musicians and artists, and it becomes the muse that makes everyone’s heart sing.

It casts a spell on everything – the air, the space, the food, the drinks, the fruits.

I was born in Hanoi, and have lived here all my life. Yet, I fall in love every year, at this time of the year.

The weather

The spring brings in warmth after a biting cold winter, and the a scorching summer follows. It rains. Then, autumn steps in gracefully, bringing cool, gentle breezes and sunlight that sprinkles just the right amount of warmth all around. The sky smiles a brilliant smile. The leaves of huge trees turn red, reddish brown, yellow and other hues that adorn Hanoi in this season.

Hoan Kiem Lake (Sword Lake) and West Lake cast peaceful yet stunning sceneries. Cycling or riding a motorbike slowly through the streets of Hanoi at this time is a lovely experience, watching fallen and falling leaves, feeling the soft breeze and soft warmth of the sunlight.

The flowers

In the evening and the night, the famous hoa sua or the milk flower exudes its bewitching fragrance. Along some sections of the West Lake promenade, on streets like Phan Dinh Phung, Quan Thanh, Quang Trung and many other places, the scent is so strong that some people, especially women, said they feel faint.

Autumn also seems to be the season of daisies and lotuses that are carried on many vendors on bicycles and sold on pavements. The sight of women holding bouquets of daisies on a breezy autumn day adds to the beauty of the capital city during his season.

The fruits

Autumn leaves its mark on the capital city with fruits that are particular to this time of the year, that seemed made particularly for this time of the year.

In summer, young dracontomelons are used to make a syrup for a thirst quenching drink. But in the autumn, when they are ripe, these are peeled and sugared or salted to make a snack people love. Dracontonmelon is a fruit that reminds people of Hanoi.

From September to October is also the time of ripe persimmons, when the fruit’s skin turns a glossy yellow or orange, and the pulp is crispy and sweet.

Grown in urban areas and usually close to temples, thi is a fruit is similar in shape and color as the persimmon, because they belong to the same plant species. But the thi is not meant to be eaten, because the taste can be quite harsh and bitter if not prepared correctly. Instead, people buy the fruit for its pleasant and fruity smell to place in the house as a natural deodorant.

The eats

Apart from the fruits, autumn in Hanoi bring to mind eagerly awaited delicacies like beaten green rice and noodle that are packed with memories for both old timers and the young.

Com (Green rice flakes)

Com, immature rice kernel roasted over very low heat and pounded into flakes is an essential of autumn here. Its special sweetness and nutty flavor gets further enhanced by the lotus leaf in which it is typically packed. Having this with ripe bananas is a popular combination that is a must-try dish for all newcomers to the capital city. 

Today this simple dish has spawned many other popular dishes like com cake with mung bean filling, com sweet soup and com ice cream.

Com is not for hasty people. You have to take it really slow, like a food for thought.

Thach Lam, Author

Ragworm

Ragworms can either be fried with meat or eggs with tangerine peels, crunchy and fragrant, with a rich taste. Fried ragworm has always been a favorite of gourmets in autumn for two reasons. First, they can only be harvested during high tides, so they are very rare and expensive (VND500,000 or $23 for a kilo). Second, not many places serve great ragworm dishes in Hanoi. The best places are on Hang Chieu Street in the Old Quarter or on Lo Duc Street.

The late author Vu Bang, a Hanoian at heart, wrote: “An autumn without ragworms feels as tragic as a woman who has wasted her youth”.

Snail dishes

Boiled snails are another favored autumn food in Hanoi, maybe because these are at their freshest during this season. A bowl of boiled snails can be an appetizer before going on to other dishes made with the molluscs. The steamed snails are taken out of the shell by using a small and flat metal pick, and dipped in a chili-garlic sauce.

On colder autumn days, a sweet, sour and savory snail vermicelli soup is great body warmer. An original Hanoi dish, bun oc is a vermicelli soup with a tomato-based broth made by slowly simmering pork or chicken bones, topped with fried tofu, prawns, fish cakes or beef and Vietnamese herbs like perilla and cilantro. Of course bun oc will not be bun oc without the famous escargots – as the French refer to snails. To add even more flavor to this dish, you can either use fermented shrimp paste or chili oil. One of the oldest bun oc spots in Hanoi is on Hang Chai Street, where it is always busy and crowded. A bowl of bun oc costs around VND30,000 ($1.28) a bowl.

Another “cooler” version of this dish is called bun oc nguoi (cold snail vermicelli). This is another traditional Hanoian dish. The broth is made of snails, rice vinegar, special herbs and some fried scallion sprinkled on top. A great bun oc nguoi spot can be found on Tay Son Street.

Lotus seed sweet soup

The lotus seeds are used in traditional medicine but can also be turned into a sweet and elagant dessert, cooked in syrup that has a light taste and a fragrant, heavenly smell.

Banh troi tau (Sweet rice soup)

This is another autumn-geared dessert made with sticky rice and mung beans cooked in a sweet soup made with water, sugar and grated ginger, garnished with toasted sesame, peanuts and coconut milk. The dish adds to the enjoyment of rare rainy days of autumn.

The drinks

After all the walking around and the eating, it’s time for another treat that is part of Hanoi’s autumn charms, thirst quenching drinks that also soothe the soul.

Lotus tea

The lotus is Vietnam’s national flower and found in many parts of the country, but connoisseurs will tell you that the most fragrant ones, which are used to make the famous lotus-scented tea, is to be found on Hanoi’s West Lake.

It is said that it takes about 1,500 lotus flowers to make one kilogram of lotus tea, so the price of high grade lotus tea can go up to hundreds of dollars per kilogram.

    A sip of this tea will make you feel the price is worth it. The fragrance and a sweet aftertaste linger long after you have finished your up. This tea is sold on Nghi Tam Street, and among other places, a lovely café called Huong Mai on Ma May Street in the Old Quarter serves a great cup of lotus tea.

Egg coffee

Much has been written about Hanoi’s egg coffee, and it has now reached places as far as Chicago, but the ultimate place to have it is at its birthplace. 

One of the best places to get a cup of egg coffee is at Giang, a humble café on Nguyen Huu Huan Street, where Hanoians get together on chilly days and enjoy the feeling of warm coffee running through their veins.

Tra da (Vietnamese green iced tea)

Arguably the most popular thirst quencher in Vietnam, tra da is a very simple drink, but an awesome one, nevertheless. Refreshing and affordable, this drink also has a special flavor in Hanoi, compared to other parts of the country. It is more bitter and therefore has great sweet aftertaste. Those who are used to the tra da in Hanoi will tell you that you can get it anywhere else in the country.

In sum, every aspect of life in Hanoi is toughed by the autumn magic, and if you spend a weekend experiencing it, chances are you will extend your stay or play your return even before you leave.

More lovely and stunning photos of Hanoi’s autumn

(Click on buttons on the right to see more photos)

Story by Tuan Hoang 

Photos by Giang Trinh, Kieu Duong, Nguyen Chi 

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[micetravelo-blog]

Trip to Himachal- Start from delhi

Paradise on Earth

10/01/2017 --------------- We reached at hotel Harmoney in Shimla around 7 AM. The Check-in time was 12:00 PM and as all the rooms were still occupied by the boarders,we were told to wait there till 10 AM to get the rooms. I asked my in-laws to sit and wait at the reception as they were too tired to explore nearby locations that time. It was a sunny morning with cool breeze blowing. We all had a cup of tea at the hotel. After that we 3 (my son and my spouse accompanied me) decided to go for a stroll. The weather was so charming outside... 

.Coming out, we decided to go to the left without knowing what was there. The views were very different from a congested city like kolkata as one can imagine. I took a few snaps with my canon digital. The road was going uphill and we were on the lookout for a good restaurant to have our breakfast/lunch later after we get our rooms. We would have gone further when we received a call from our in-laws at the hotel and came to know that rooms were allotted to us. So we returned to our hotel and got into our room. The rooms were as it used to be in hilly areas. Wooden floors and the roof was embedded with mirrors. A circular type of double bed with blankets and wrappers placed in the middle. There was a balcony attached to the room. A Television set was placed at the corner. Clean towels, soaps etc were placed properly. The toilets were equipped with hot and cold water facilities. All seemed to be fine except that we didn't find enough points to charge our mobile ,camera, laptops etc. It took an hour to make ourselves ready and then we left the hotel to explore Shimla. We stayed there for that night only and hence didn't have enough time to see places which were far from Shimla. Moreover, we were also tired after the long journey. Hence we decided to explore only areas which we could manage walking on foot. We started for Shimla Kali bari. It was very near to the hotel and we reached there in 20 mins by walking. We spent some time there and visited goddess Kali and the other sides of the Kali bari.We found that there was a canteen downstairs where we can have our lunch. It was not a great lunch. However, it satisfied our hunger and we started for the famous Shimla Mall. Vehicles were not allowed at the mall. This is a place which remains crowded always by tourists, school/college students etc. The views were good. There was a church at one side and beside that, a road went downstairs towards the 'Ridge' , a market place in Shimla. We spent some time sitting at the mall and then visited the church. We went downwards to walk along the Ridge and see various stalls, shops etc. We saw people eating fruit salads being served by the vendors. We also bought one which cost Rs 50 per plate. It contained slices of Kiwi, Persimmon , Guava (Red) etc. The fruits were tasty specially the Persimmon. I never had this anywhere, neither I heard about it. The color of the fruit is almost like a tomato and sweet to taste. After roaming for some more time , we decided to return to our hotel and have some tea and take rest. The sun was going to set and the wind was getting colder . So we returned to our hotel. Next day our plan was to visit Bhuntar in kulu district which was about 6 hrs from Shimla. Hence we packed our luggage and went to bed early after our dinner.  

11/01/2017 --------------- It was a cold morning. We quickly freshened up and got ready for the onward journey. Our driver reached in time and called us. This driver was different from the one who had brought us in Shimla. He is a haryanvi in his 20's. not very conversant in Hindi or English except haryanvi. He assured us that he was going to stay with us for the rest of the journey till Amritsar. In Shimla we didn't get time for sightseeing in true sense. So we were excited about any place worth visiting during our journey. We started around 8:00 AM. Our destination was Bhuntar. It is a small town in kulu district and was about 200 km from Shimla. On the way we halted at Mandi which was little more than halfway between Shimla and Bhuntar. It is a town in Mandi district in Himachal. By the time we reached Mandi we were feeling hungry. It was around 12:30 PM. Our driver suggested us to visit the Gurudwara and avail ourselves of the langar which we agreed to. The Gurudwara was like any other Gurudwara but it had some historical significance. Guru Govind Singh, the 10th Sikh Guru had spent some time there. The Gurdwara was also called as Gurudwara Palang Sahib, as the Guru's Bed 'Palang' is still preserved here. After our visit we took the langar. It was around 1:30 PM when we finished our lunch. Our driver was waiting at the cab for us and we resumed our journey. The temperature was more compared to that of Shimla as we approached Bhuntar and we started feeling hot. Finally, we reached Bhuntar at 4:30 PM. We had booked Hotel Shail raj . The rooms were good and there was a verandah attached to our room which gave a good view  of the mountains. We took rest for some time, had some tea and snacks . As that was the first day we didn't see anything remarkable. After spending some time we returned to our hotel. 

 12/01/2017 -------------- We spent one night at Bhuntar and the next day after having our morning tea and bath we started our journey towards Manali. The plan was to visit Manikaran on the way and then head towards Manali. It is located at a distance of 35 kms approx. from Bhuntar. We had to cross the Beas river to go to Manikaran. The views were magnificient having high mountains with lush green vegetation surrounding the entire path on our journey. There is a Gurudwara which all the tourists used to visit. This place is famous for hot Sulphur springs revered by both Hindus and Sikhs pilgrims. The hot boiling water of the sulphur spring mixes naturally with the ice cold water of the river and stored in a pool. People used to take a holy dip in the water. Separate arrangements are mades for male and females for this purpose. The Gurudwara is a multi storied building on the bank of the river. We explored all the floors and then went for the langar. By the time we completed already 2.5 hrs passed. So we resumed our journey towards Manali. It meant coming back 35 km till Bhuntar and then take the Manali route. 

 Naggar --------- We had to travel another 50-60 km to reach Manali. We planned to visit Naggar castle which would come on the way. This was a settlement on the top of the mountain which was renovated by HPTDC and now being used as a heritage site. Accommodation was also available. This is a small establishment in kulu.THis place is also used for film shooting purposes. After spending some time, there we started for Manali. Manali ---------- It was about 3 PM when we reached Manali. Our driver was not very familiar with these routes and I had to help him with Google maps to find our hotel. I booked hotel Rohtang Manalsu online through Himachal Tourism website. The location of the hotel was very good with thick deodar and pine forest in the background. Manali appeared to be very cold compared to Bhuntar and as it was already late, the sun light was dim and we felt shivering. We had not had our lunch yet and were hungry. So we placed our order at the reception itself and went to our room. to freshen ourselves. I generally prefer govt hotels where ever I go and nowhere I was disappointed. Being a govt. property the hotels are generally located at very good places with all the basic amenities and ample space at a reasonable price. They lack maintenance some times though. But here in Manali the rooms are small and old. It was furnished with a double bed, a center table and a sofa. The television set was fixed to the wall. We found it difficult to unpack our suitcases due to lack of space. Later we identified that the hotel had a newly built setup at one side of the campus. We spent two nights there and somehow we adjusted, as otherwise it was good enough. After resting there for about an hour and having our afternoon snacks and tea we decided to visit Mall road. Our car was parked inside the hotel premises and we planned to visit the nearby places on foot. The mall road was about a km from our hotel. There was a nature park on the way to which we didn't enter. Like Shimla, the Manali Mall is a busy market place with lot of shops on the two sides of the road. No vehicle is allowed there. Seating arrangements have been made for the tourists where one can sit and watch the activities of the tourists and passersby.After sitting there for some time we thought to explore the market. We had heard that fruits like apples, kiwi, persimmon were famous in HP and hoped that we would see some apple orchards and would be fortunate enough to pluck sweet fresh juicy apples from the trees. But as the harvesting season ends in sept, all the apples were already plucked and sent to the Market in October. However, we could see them in the market. We bought two apples and two percimons to taste. The fruits were sweet indeed and I decided to bring some of those fruits when I return. Meanwhile the dusk had set in and we returned to our hotel. There were quite a few places to see in Manali e.g Hadimba Temple, Clubhouse, Manali Mall, Solang Valley, Rohtang Pass, Nature Park etc. Before reaching Manali, we had a plan to visit Rohtang Pass. But on reaching there we found the permit itself was taking 3 days whereas we were to stay there only for 2 days. Moreover, one objective of going there was to see the beauty of the snow covered roads and mountains. We talked to some tourists who hadalready visited Rohtang Pass and came to know that there was no snowfall in Rohtang Pass. Also due to heavy crowd during the puja vacations, it took them about 6 hours to reach Rohtang and hence they didn't enjoy the journey. So we gave up our plan to visit Rohtang Passs and decided to visit Solang next morning. We thought to have an early dinner and so left our hotel to explore any food joint nearby. We found one just outside our hotel premises. The restaurant was Hadimba Dhaba. It was cold outside and we reached there in search of tasty, hot and fresh food. This restaurant was operated by women. The lady owner herself makes soft tasty hot handmade chapatis and her team prepares the curry etc. We were served with the food in about 15 mins. After finishing our dinner, we returned to our hotel only to go to bed.REST I ‘ LL PEN DOWN LATER

[appalachianway-blog]

Support the author because you can read here for free: Appalachian Folk Beliefs By Scott Nicholson The people of the Appalachian Mountains have always been full of superstition, dreams, and creativity, and have come up with lots of different sayings and folk beliefs. Some seem silly, and some are based on acute observation, but most were born before science rushed in with an answer for almost everything. When these beliefs were created, people had only their senses to guide them. Besides, how can you disprove anything based on faith? Say it three times, it must be true. H e a l i n g If you scratch yourself with a nail, rub it in grease and throw it in the fire. One cure for hiccups is to tickle the nose with a feather. Eating parched corn or parched coffee will cure stomach ailments. To get rid of warts, carve one notch in a stick for every wart you have. Bury or hide the stick, and the warts will go way. To stop bleeding from a wound, apply chimney soot Don't let birds gather your hair for nesting material: you will go crazy. For toothache, rub a splinter around the gum until it draws blood; drive the splinter into a tree, and the toothache will go away. Putting a handful of salt on your head will cure a headache. If you eat snow before the third snowfall of the season, it will make you sick. If you dream about crossing water, there will be an illness in the family. To get rid of chills, tie a string around a persimmon tree. If you sweep under the bed of a sick person, that person will die. If your hand itches, it means someone will give you a present soon. For snake bite, cut up the snake that bit you and press its flesh to the wound. This will draw out the poison. Raw wet tobacco will draw the venom from an insect's sting. L u c k Eating black-eyed peas on New Year's Day is good luck. Always lend salt; if you give it away, you will have bad luck. Tell a dream before breakfast and it won't come true. It's bad luck to sew on Saturday unless you finish the job. If you dream about muddy water, you will have bad luck. It's bad luck to look in a mirror at midnight. If a cricket chirps in your fireplace, you will have good luck. It's bad luck to pass somebody on the stairs. The third person to light a cigarette from the same match will have bad luck. It's bad luck to put shoes back in the box before wearing them. If you put on a shirt wrong-side-out, it's good luck. But you have to get someone else to turn it inside-out for you, or your luck will change. It's bad luck to sneeze at the table. If you wear an opal, it's bad luck, unless it's your birthstone. If you sweep after the sun goes down, you will never be rich. It's bad luck to watch a friend leaving if you continue watching until the person is out of sight. If a black cat crosses your path, it's bad luck, unless the cat crosses from right to left. It's bad luck to run backwards. L o v e Break a coin under the new moon and sew half of it in the clothes of the person you're after, and the person will fall in love with you. If your lover is going out to cheat on you, sprinkle salt in the path, and the lover will turn around and come back. If two people put spoons in a cup at the same time, they will be married. If you dream about death, it's a sign that a wedding day is near. Strike a match and hold it upside down. If it burns to the end, it means your mate loves you truly. If you look in a mirror held over a spring, you will see the face of the person you will marry If you swallow a chicken's heart, you will win the hand of the one you love. Name a fishing hook after the person you love. If you catch a fish with the hook, it means the love is true. You will marry as many people as the number of seeds that will stick to your forehead. If you put a four-leaf clover in your shoe, you will marry the first person you meet. If a girl takes the last piece of bread from a plate, she will be an old maid. It's bad luck to bathe on your wedding day. Wednesday is the best day to get married, except in May. Sunshine on wedding day means a happy marriage. If your lips itch, it means you want to be kissed. D e a t h If you rock an empty cradle, the baby will die. If your ears are ringing, you are hearing the death bell and a friend will pass away. If you cut your hair in March, you'll die that year. It's bad luck for a new bride to meet a funeral procession. A bird flying out of a house of sickness means the patient will die. If a broken clock suddenly strikes, it's a sure sign of death. If you see a shooting star, a friend will die. If a dog howls at night, someone in the household will die soon. If you suddenly shudder, it means a rabbit has run across your grave. If somebody dies, stop the clock until the next day, or someone else in the house will die. It's bad luck to point at a graveyard. If rain falls into an open grave, that means the deceased is bound for hell. S p i r i t s To ward off spells, wear a rabbit's foot around your neck. To make a death charm, shape a little wax figure and put the victim's hair in it, then put the figure in the fire. To break a spell, carry drinking water across a running stream. A horseshoe hung over the door keeps witches and evil spirits away. If you want to keep a witch out of your house, lay a broom across the doorstep. To kill a witch, carve a heart in a tree; drive a nail in the tree, giving a tap every morning. On the ninth morning, drive the nail all the way in. To keep away ghosts, put salt on the fire or carry the left hind foot of a graveyard rabbit. A snakeskin bag with a toad's eye inside will ward off ghosts. W e a t h e r Red sky at sunrise means rain within twenty-four hours. Dew on the grass means a dry day. If it rains on Monday, it will rain all through the week. If your nose itches, it's a sign of rain. When roosters crow at night, expect rain the next day. If a frog croaks at twelve o'clock, it's a sign of rain.. If you see enough blue sky to patch a jacket, the rain is passing. A red sky at night means windy weather. A pinching crawdad will hold on until it hears thunder. There will be a winter snow for every August fog. Thunder in February means frost in May. Lots of nuts and berries means the winter will be severe. (Originally appeared in The Mountain Times) Back to Articles page Murdermouth support the arts be a zombie character with the dead digger haunted computer Scott Nicholson horror novel paranormal thriller supernatural urban fantasy angel angels demons zombie zombies zombie survival guide Scott Nicholson copyright 2001-2010©All rights reserved

[fistsoflightning]

20 - bring you home

petrichor: a distinctive, earthy, usually pleasant odor that is associated with rainfall. Haruki/A’dewah, 3k words. Set post 5.55, no spoilers. I... forgot to post this last night, whoops!

There’s something that A’dewah has been meaning to say to Haruki for a while now, and if it takes his sisters shoving him out the door and to the aetheryte plaza with promises of bodily harm to get him to say it... then so be it?

Though the sun had already started to break through the clouds overhead, the scent of the afternoon rain was still strong enough to follow A’dewah in when he opened the door to the Hagane household. Even as he unfastened and slipped off his traveling boots with one hand, his other occupied by the bag of carefully wrapped desserts and snacks Mahja had forced him to take, the house remained soothingly quiet. 

His visit was still unexpected, then. Good. That gave him time to figure out where to hide his sisters’ surprise gift before someone could ruin their appetite on Tahja’s baklava and to shake off the last few hints of aethersickness.

Realistically, he had meant to wait another week before making the trip from Ala Mhigo to the Doman Enclave via aetheryte, especially after making the trip to Terncliff to check on the girl left standing after the Weapon experiments (while proving that Chessamile’s and Tesleen’s embarrassing but much needed advice was working by glaring down Gaius the whole time he was debriefing him). He was supposed to rest until the Scions had concrete plans, since Y’shtola took one look at his aether after the ordeal at Carteneau and was more than mildly upset; he’d told them he would be in Ala Mhigo instead of the Lavender Beds before Krile shoved a cursed piece of Archon loaf into his mouth for him. His visit to Allie was just a small thing A’dewah had picked up on the way to the city—he’d meant to stay in Ala Mhigo until they next needed him, really, since teleporting halfway across the world on a whim was slightly inadvisable no matter how many ethers he drank.

But he’d left the ring box Zaya delivered out on the damn counter when he left to meet with Lyse for the day, and when he came back his sisters were ready to hound him for every detail while his father did nothing to stop them, grinning behind his mug of coffee as he watched Mahja shake him like an apple tree in a storm.

A’dewah didn’t know how he was going to explain to Krile that he was actually in Doma because his sisters, who he loves very much despite their terrible baking habits, blackmailed him into proposing soon rather than stewing in his own anxiety for the next few… years. Maybe Khebica would save him. Probably not, considering how she likes to torture him with increasingly strange exercises every time they train together.

There was no use in trying to solve that before everything else he needed to do, though. He closed the door behind him before he set off towards the kitchen, focusing on hiding desserts, the box in his pocket, and not that he forgot his slippers at the entryway, wandering around in just his socks.

...Okay, maybe he was thinking about the slippers and the fact that they were still there, waiting patiently for him by the entry despite his continued, prolonged absences. Haruki found him a pair specifically in his size years ago and never thought to get rid of them, even after he ran out and never wrote back. Never even thought to hide the lengths he went to make sure A’dewah was at home and at peace, so close to the place that had been his prison for so many years and surrounded by the members of Haruki’s family he struggled to relax around, leaving the tea blends in their cupboards and his books on the shelves for over a year. They’d all gathered dust, as all things left behind do, but Haruki was so quick to blow it off in exaggerated breaths that left him sneezing with watery eyes that the signs of his absence failed to feel heavy.

It was hard for the dark voice leaning over his shoulder to say that Haruki ever did think carving a place in his home for A’dewah was a mistake, with how Haruki welcomed him back so earnestly to a home that still looked familiar to him, how he fought so hard to keep him from falling to pieces when they talked about why he ever left in the first place. He’d come back expecting the worst only to find Haruki still making the difficult choice to adore him just as openly and fervently as before. Completely open to working through A’dewah’s dark days and fears with him, not fearing the fall when A’dewah faltered first.

Still loved him at his lowest and his worst, as if there were never an option not to.

There was no point in trying to hide his smile or the low, short rumble that bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest as he set Khebica and Tahja’s carefully wrapped treats into the icebox, not when he was still alone. There thankfully wasn’t much for him to need to put away—a few of the parcels would keep well enough if he left them out, like the qurabiya—but he did make a point to leave the jar of mirror apple murabba somewhere easy to reach before shutting the door. If Mune didn’t like the taste, A’dewah could at least eat the rest.

Besides the dessert debacle, there… really wasn’t much else for him to do but wait. And panic a little. It wasn’t as if he was going to spring the proposal on Haruki randomly—he spent so long agonizing on a whole plan, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let his sisters and their interest in his happiness ruin it no matter how terrified actually pulling it off made him—but there wasn’t much else he was here in the Enclave for. Too bad that he didn’t remember to bring a book.

He slipped off his traveling satchel and circlet while he tried to conjure up some better excuse for his sudden appearance, in case he needed one, setting them carefully on the table next to the almost-emptied bag before remembering to shove the ring box into his pockets. The last thing he needed was a repeat of what happened with his own family, except worse. He was lucky his sisters didn’t need to open it to know what was inside and who it was for—but Mune was going to come home from school, soon, and A’dewah wasn’t sure he’d have the same restraint.

A’dewah huffed a little laugh. Knowing Mune, he’d probably be just as excited once he got around to telling him—except he would probably be able to knock A’dewah right over when he went in for a hug, with how tall he’d gotten. He was glad that time marched on differently, between here and the First; if he came back to Mune standing as tall as Haruki, he wouldn’t have known what to do. Still, he wanted to at least talk to Shomi (and Maki, when he found his nerves again) before letting Mune in on the whole thing.

Rather than wear a hole in the floor while thinking of family and promises, A’dewah let his feet guide him over to a window, where a small potted lily of the valley was basking in the sun. Making sure his coat was still firmly on his shoulders, he pushed open the window and let the chilled breeze rush over his face as he took a deep, calming breath. 

The cool scent of the rain had always been soothing, even in the Lochs, where rain was prone to lead to quicklevin and reports of Ixion. Something about it always reminded him of being out in the gardens—maybe since he was usually out watering flowers, he’d simply grown used to the gentle mist filling his lungs and started associating it with calm.

That reminded him: there was always the small garden he’d made with Haruki in the yard, if he needed an excuse.

He never did get to check on the flowers he was growing here, the last time he was in the Enclave. Too busy figuring things out with Haruki to remember until Krile sent Reese after him, and both of them were too afraid of their lalafellin healer armed with aethersyrup and Tataru’s Archon loaf to stall returning home. 

Probably for the best. He wouldn’t have been able to work up the courage until now, when he was too exhausted to let the last time he was in the garden shake him.

He stopped to grab his boots from the entry before walking towards the door out to the yard, sitting down and slipping them back over his socks before opening the door. The flowers were probably overgrown and in need of weeding, by now; the yard wasn’t terribly small, but it also wasn’t as large as the one he was afforded back in the Lavender Beds. Without him around to regularly take care of it, there was always the worry that the flowers Haruki had let him plant had grown out of control. Kotone had taken it upon herself to care for his gardens in the Beds (a gift he very nearly cried over, when he found out), but admittedly he didn’t have terribly high hopes for Haruki. There was a reason he hadn’t tried to grow camellia and hydrangeas together back home, but he had been willing to try anything to give Haruki something special, even if it meant using a little bit of magic and more extensive work when he was here.

When he stepped out into the yard, what he found was far from being in need of help.

The lilies that used to fill the space between the bushes were no longer there, their place taken by a careful arrangement of moth orchids in shades better fitting the sunrise over Gyr Abania. He’d made a point to plant flowers that bloomed in different seasons so that there would be a little color in the garden throughout most of the year, before he left, and the orchids were perfect for that, blooming in brilliant reds and pinks even in the early chill of autumn. It would be a long time before the camellias bloomed again, and even longer for the hydrangeas, but the small shrubs were trimmed neatly regardless, their leaves still vibrant shades of emerald.

Dazed, A’dewah stepped towards the orchids, squatting down to gently brush his fingers over the leaves and the colorful petals, his other hand keeping the white top layer of his coat from soaking in the mud as his eyes settled on one bright orchid. The light cherry red flower looked terribly similar, almost the same color as his left eye—whoever had planted these obviously looked over them with care, especially since they didn’t have A’dewah’s own spell shortcuts to keep them healthy.

“There you are,” a familiar voice called; when A’dewah looked behind him, there Haruki was, one hand on the doorframe with a brilliant smile. He looked a little disheveled, hair starting to fall out of his ponytail, but he still remained as vibrant as ever. “Saw your things in the kitchen; was wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

Distantly, A’dewah felt the familiar sensation of anxiety hum beneath his skin, his fingers growing tense at the reminder of who he was here for at the end of things, but the lingering warmth from his earlier wonderings kept him from sputtering at Haruki’s sudden appearance. “I hope you didn’t have to look too hard,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t too hoarse when he spoke. “I don’t really know how long I’ve been outside. Not that I was trying to keep track, but… you know.”

Haruki shrugged, the momentary tension in his shoulders melting away just as easily as it came. Always so languid and relaxed where A’dewah was permanently tense. “Probably not too long. I just got back and assumed you’d be out here ‘cause of the rain, which you were.” 

A’dewah pushed up on his knees when he stood back up, watching the way Haruki’s gaze darted down to the moth orchids by his feet before it flicked back up to meet A’dewah’s curious look with one of his own. If he’d thought the orchids were Mune’s doing before, taking a step up from his windowsill pots, he was more than certain now that it was instead Haruki who had planted a sunrise of flowers for him, if not by the way he seemed to be waiting for a reaction then by the subtle hints of dirt stubbornly clinging to the scales of his hands.

Rather than continue the conversation all the way across the yard, A’dewah quickly walked over to the door, trying not to track too much mud on the heels of his boots as they clicked on the stepping stones. Haruki stepped out from the doorway, as if to make space for him to pass through; instead A’dewah stopped right before him. It was always an ordeal, trying to do much of anything with Haruki while they were standing because of how tall he was, but he liked to think the two of them had gotten better at working it out in the moment without either hitting heads or falling over. A’dewah set his hand on Haruki’s forearm and waited for him to lean down before reaching up with his other hand, curling it around so that his fingers could catch the ridges of the scales at the back of his neck before tugging Haruki down into a small, quiet kiss, pushing himself up onto his toes to close the distance between them. Haruki kept him from tipping over, his hands moving to rest on his back and pull him upwards.

“Thank you for taking care of my garden while I was away,” he murmured when he pulled away, letting his fingers slide away from the nape of Haruki’s neck over to the scales just below his horn. “Especially when you didn’t even know if I was ever coming back.”

“I had my hopes,” Haruki replied, his eyes glowing in the bit of shade between them. “Sorry about your lilies. I had to take them out. The orchids a good enough replacement, you think?”

A’dewah huffed, trying not to sound too choked up when he said, “The colors are perfect. Better than the lilies, maybe. Especially after...”

He raised his hand a little higher, from Haruki’s scales up to the scar burned onto his forehead. It wasn’t as terrifying now, to see what remained of his magic at its worst, but A’dewah still whispered a small cure to life at his fingertips. The burst of aether that washed over the scar didn’t do much other than shimmer over Haruki’s skin, unable to find anything to heal as it quickly faded.

“I already forgave you for that, silly,” Haruki said, shifting A’dewah’s weight onto one arm to catch A’dewah’s hand with his own. “If I could have kept your lilies alive I would have. But! I’m glad you like the orchids. Had to get Mune and Koto-chan to help me out. Your notes on the other flowers were enough, but I don’t think this strain of orchid was around the last time you were here.”

The thought of Haruki having to be led around A’dewah’s garden by his son and his younger cousin made A’dewah snicker, just a little. “Then I’ll have to find a way to thank them. And you.,” he promised. Mune and Kotone in less dramatic and planned-out ways than Haruki, especially not ones that involved rings, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You don’t need to thank me for something so simple, but if you’re set on it,” Haruki said, helping A’dewah back down onto his feet before pulling him into a hug, “You can thank me by helping me make dinner.”

A’dewah smiled against Haruki’s chest. Always so eager to go the distance without expecting the exact same devotion in return. Loves him enough to do things like keep a space for him in his own house without knowing when A’dewah will return or how long he will stay and work on forging a weapon for him when he isn’t even awake to use it. Rarely begrudges him for his nervousness or his bouts of panic, not even at the dead of night when he wakes both of them up with his nightmares. Willing to watch A’dewah leave without knowing if he’ll return and still loving him just the same when he eventually does.

That last one, though. He could do something about that, pocket heavy with a promise yet unmade.

“Just dinner, then,” he mumbled, privately hoping his crossed fingers weren’t obvious at Haruki’s hip. His heart racing could probably be brushed off as embarrassment at having his face pressed to Haruki’s bare chest, probably—the benefits of loving someone who never learned to close their damn shirt. “My sisters blackmailed me into bringing desserts, if it helps… but I hope you know that four years on the First hasn’t made me any better at cooking rice. I didn’t get any time to cook anything except toast between healing people and researching a possible cure, so it’s possibly going to end up, er, very burnt. Especially the rice.”

“I’d eat burnt rice for the rest of my life if it means you’re here with me,” Haruki said, mostly joking even as his fingers tightened in the back of A’dewah’s coat.

Despite himself, A’dewah laughed, pushing gently on Haruki’s chest so that he could look at his face when he said, “I’ll try my best not to make it too crunchy, but… maybe we should start cooking early. Just in case.”

A’dewah was glad that no one else seemed to be home when Haruki burst out in his own laughter, pressing a hand to his face as he led A’dewah back indoors. The moment felt almost too precious to share: A’dewah, flushed with embarrassment and adoration, eagerly following behind Haruki and his brilliant laughter, his fingers keeping A’dewah’s hand from slipping away in the cool afternoon. Eventually, one of them would have to let go, but for now, he let his hand curl around the bare knuckles of Haruki’s left hand and wondered how holding his hand would feel with a ring on his finger.

[marketingadvisorvietnam]

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

Marketing Advisor đã viết bài trên http://www.ticvietnam.vn/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season-21/

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

It is a time when the soul turns poetic, mesmerized and spellbound by the charisma that autumn bestows on Hanoi.

The scent of milk flowers in the wind

Green rice scent in your little hands

Leave a fragrance in your footsteps.

Trinh Cong Son’s song, Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi (Missing Hanoi’s Autumn), would play on my neighborhood’s old loudspeaker when I was a little kid.

The indelible memory that evokes extraordinary beauty is refreshed anew every October as I wake up, open the window and a calm and gentle breeze ruffles my hair.

The sun seems mellowed, too.

There are fragrances and hints of fragrances in the air, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste.

When it all seems like a beautiful dream, I know autumn is here, here in Hanoi.

Autumn in Hanoi is a transcendent season. It becomes the muse for poets, musicians and artists, and it becomes the muse that makes everyone’s heart sing.

It casts a spell on everything – the air, the space, the food, the drinks, the fruits.

I was born in Hanoi, and have lived here all my life. Yet, I fall in love every year, at this time of the year.

The weather

The spring brings in warmth after a biting cold winter, and the a scorching summer follows. It rains. Then, autumn steps in gracefully, bringing cool, gentle breezes and sunlight that sprinkles just the right amount of warmth all around. The sky smiles a brilliant smile. The leaves of huge trees turn red, reddish brown, yellow and other hues that adorn Hanoi in this season.

Hoan Kiem Lake (Sword Lake) and West Lake cast peaceful yet stunning sceneries. Cycling or riding a motorbike slowly through the streets of Hanoi at this time is a lovely experience, watching fallen and falling leaves, feeling the soft breeze and soft warmth of the sunlight.

The flowers

In the evening and the night, the famous hoa sua or the milk flower exudes its bewitching fragrance. Along some sections of the West Lake promenade, on streets like Phan Dinh Phung, Quan Thanh, Quang Trung and many other places, the scent is so strong that some people, especially women, said they feel faint.

Autumn also seems to be the season of daisies and lotuses that are carried on many vendors on bicycles and sold on pavements. The sight of women holding bouquets of daisies on a breezy autumn day adds to the beauty of the capital city during his season.

The fruits

Autumn leaves its mark on the capital city with fruits that are particular to this time of the year, that seemed made particularly for this time of the year.

In summer, young dracontomelons are used to make a syrup for a thirst quenching drink. But in the autumn, when they are ripe, these are peeled and sugared or salted to make a snack people love. Dracontonmelon is a fruit that reminds people of Hanoi.

From September to October is also the time of ripe persimmons, when the fruit’s skin turns a glossy yellow or orange, and the pulp is crispy and sweet.

Grown in urban areas and usually close to temples, thi is a fruit is similar in shape and color as the persimmon, because they belong to the same plant species. But the thi is not meant to be eaten, because the taste can be quite harsh and bitter if not prepared correctly. Instead, people buy the fruit for its pleasant and fruity smell to place in the house as a natural deodorant.

The eats

Apart from the fruits, autumn in Hanoi bring to mind eagerly awaited delicacies like beaten green rice and noodle that are packed with memories for both old timers and the young.

Com (Green rice flakes)

Com, immature rice kernel roasted over very low heat and pounded into flakes is an essential of autumn here. Its special sweetness and nutty flavor gets further enhanced by the lotus leaf in which it is typically packed. Having this with ripe bananas is a popular combination that is a must-try dish for all newcomers to the capital city. 

Today this simple dish has spawned many other popular dishes like com cake with mung bean filling, com sweet soup and com ice cream.

Com is not for hasty people. You have to take it really slow, like a food for thought.

Thach Lam, Author

Ragworm

Ragworms can either be fried with meat or eggs with tangerine peels, crunchy and fragrant, with a rich taste. Fried ragworm has always been a favorite of gourmets in autumn for two reasons. First, they can only be harvested during high tides, so they are very rare and expensive (VND500,000 or $23 for a kilo). Second, not many places serve great ragworm dishes in Hanoi. The best places are on Hang Chieu Street in the Old Quarter or on Lo Duc Street.

The late author Vu Bang, a Hanoian at heart, wrote: “An autumn without ragworms feels as tragic as a woman who has wasted her youth”.

Snail dishes

Boiled snails are another favored autumn food in Hanoi, maybe because these are at their freshest during this season. A bowl of boiled snails can be an appetizer before going on to other dishes made with the molluscs. The steamed snails are taken out of the shell by using a small and flat metal pick, and dipped in a chili-garlic sauce.

On colder autumn days, a sweet, sour and savory snail vermicelli soup is great body warmer. An original Hanoi dish, bun oc is a vermicelli soup with a tomato-based broth made by slowly simmering pork or chicken bones, topped with fried tofu, prawns, fish cakes or beef and Vietnamese herbs like perilla and cilantro. Of course bun oc will not be bun oc without the famous escargots – as the French refer to snails. To add even more flavor to this dish, you can either use fermented shrimp paste or chili oil. One of the oldest bun oc spots in Hanoi is on Hang Chai Street, where it is always busy and crowded. A bowl of bun oc costs around VND30,000 ($1.28) a bowl.

Another “cooler” version of this dish is called bun oc nguoi (cold snail vermicelli). This is another traditional Hanoian dish. The broth is made of snails, rice vinegar, special herbs and some fried scallion sprinkled on top. A great bun oc nguoi spot can be found on Tay Son Street.

Lotus seed sweet soup

The lotus seeds are used in traditional medicine but can also be turned into a sweet and elagant dessert, cooked in syrup that has a light taste and a fragrant, heavenly smell.

Banh troi tau (Sweet rice soup)

This is another autumn-geared dessert made with sticky rice and mung beans cooked in a sweet soup made with water, sugar and grated ginger, garnished with toasted sesame, peanuts and coconut milk. The dish adds to the enjoyment of rare rainy days of autumn.

The drinks

After all the walking around and the eating, it’s time for another treat that is part of Hanoi’s autumn charms, thirst quenching drinks that also soothe the soul.

Lotus tea

The lotus is Vietnam’s national flower and found in many parts of the country, but connoisseurs will tell you that the most fragrant ones, which are used to make the famous lotus-scented tea, is to be found on Hanoi’s West Lake.

It is said that it takes about 1,500 lotus flowers to make one kilogram of lotus tea, so the price of high grade lotus tea can go up to hundreds of dollars per kilogram.

    A sip of this tea will make you feel the price is worth it. The fragrance and a sweet aftertaste linger long after you have finished your up. This tea is sold on Nghi Tam Street, and among other places, a lovely café called Huong Mai on Ma May Street in the Old Quarter serves a great cup of lotus tea.

Egg coffee

Much has been written about Hanoi’s egg coffee, and it has now reached places as far as Chicago, but the ultimate place to have it is at its birthplace. 

One of the best places to get a cup of egg coffee is at Giang, a humble café on Nguyen Huu Huan Street, where Hanoians get together on chilly days and enjoy the feeling of warm coffee running through their veins.

Tra da (Vietnamese green iced tea)

Arguably the most popular thirst quencher in Vietnam, tra da is a very simple drink, but an awesome one, nevertheless. Refreshing and affordable, this drink also has a special flavor in Hanoi, compared to other parts of the country. It is more bitter and therefore has great sweet aftertaste. Those who are used to the tra da in Hanoi will tell you that you can get it anywhere else in the country.

In sum, every aspect of life in Hanoi is toughed by the autumn magic, and if you spend a weekend experiencing it, chances are you will extend your stay or play your return even before you leave.

More lovely and stunning photos of Hanoi’s autumn

(Click on buttons on the right to see more photos)

Story by Tuan Hoang 

Photos by Giang Trinh, Kieu Duong, Nguyen Chi 

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[marketingadvisorvietnam]

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

Marketing Advisor đã viết bài trên http://www.ticvietnam.vn/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season/

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

It is a time when the soul turns poetic, mesmerized and spellbound by the charisma that autumn bestows on Hanoi.

The scent of milk flowers in the wind

Green rice scent in your little hands

Leave a fragrance in your footsteps.

Trinh Cong Son’s song, Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi (Missing Hanoi’s Autumn), would play on my neighborhood’s old loudspeaker when I was a little kid.

The indelible memory that evokes extraordinary beauty is refreshed anew every October as I wake up, open the window and a calm and gentle breeze ruffles my hair.

The sun seems mellowed, too.

There are fragrances and hints of fragrances in the air, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste.

When it all seems like a beautiful dream, I know autumn is here, here in Hanoi.

Autumn in Hanoi is a transcendent season. It becomes the muse for poets, musicians and artists, and it becomes the muse that makes everyone’s heart sing.

It casts a spell on everything – the air, the space, the food, the drinks, the fruits.

I was born in Hanoi, and have lived here all my life. Yet, I fall in love every year, at this time of the year.

The weather

The spring brings in warmth after a biting cold winter, and the a scorching summer follows. It rains. Then, autumn steps in gracefully, bringing cool, gentle breezes and sunlight that sprinkles just the right amount of warmth all around. The sky smiles a brilliant smile. The leaves of huge trees turn red, reddish brown, yellow and other hues that adorn Hanoi in this season.

Hoan Kiem Lake (Sword Lake) and West Lake cast peaceful yet stunning sceneries. Cycling or riding a motorbike slowly through the streets of Hanoi at this time is a lovely experience, watching fallen and falling leaves, feeling the soft breeze and soft warmth of the sunlight.

The flowers

In the evening and the night, the famous hoa sua or the milk flower exudes its bewitching fragrance. Along some sections of the West Lake promenade, on streets like Phan Dinh Phung, Quan Thanh, Quang Trung and many other places, the scent is so strong that some people, especially women, said they feel faint.

Autumn also seems to be the season of daisies and lotuses that are carried on many vendors on bicycles and sold on pavements. The sight of women holding bouquets of daisies on a breezy autumn day adds to the beauty of the capital city during his season.

The fruits

Autumn leaves its mark on the capital city with fruits that are particular to this time of the year, that seemed made particularly for this time of the year.

In summer, young dracontomelons are used to make a syrup for a thirst quenching drink. But in the autumn, when they are ripe, these are peeled and sugared or salted to make a snack people love. Dracontonmelon is a fruit that reminds people of Hanoi.

From September to October is also the time of ripe persimmons, when the fruit’s skin turns a glossy yellow or orange, and the pulp is crispy and sweet.

Grown in urban areas and usually close to temples, thi is a fruit is similar in shape and color as the persimmon, because they belong to the same plant species. But the thi is not meant to be eaten, because the taste can be quite harsh and bitter if not prepared correctly. Instead, people buy the fruit for its pleasant and fruity smell to place in the house as a natural deodorant.

The eats

Apart from the fruits, autumn in Hanoi bring to mind eagerly awaited delicacies like beaten green rice and noodle that are packed with memories for both old timers and the young.

Com (Green rice flakes)

Com, immature rice kernel roasted over very low heat and pounded into flakes is an essential of autumn here. Its special sweetness and nutty flavor gets further enhanced by the lotus leaf in which it is typically packed. Having this with ripe bananas is a popular combination that is a must-try dish for all newcomers to the capital city. 

Today this simple dish has spawned many other popular dishes like com cake with mung bean filling, com sweet soup and com ice cream.

Com is not for hasty people. You have to take it really slow, like a food for thought.

Thach Lam, Author

Ragworm

Ragworms can either be fried with meat or eggs with tangerine peels, crunchy and fragrant, with a rich taste. Fried ragworm has always been a favorite of gourmets in autumn for two reasons. First, they can only be harvested during high tides, so they are very rare and expensive (VND500,000 or $23 for a kilo). Second, not many places serve great ragworm dishes in Hanoi. The best places are on Hang Chieu Street in the Old Quarter or on Lo Duc Street.

The late author Vu Bang, a Hanoian at heart, wrote: “An autumn without ragworms feels as tragic as a woman who has wasted her youth”.

Snail dishes

Boiled snails are another favored autumn food in Hanoi, maybe because these are at their freshest during this season. A bowl of boiled snails can be an appetizer before going on to other dishes made with the molluscs. The steamed snails are taken out of the shell by using a small and flat metal pick, and dipped in a chili-garlic sauce.

On colder autumn days, a sweet, sour and savory snail vermicelli soup is great body warmer. An original Hanoi dish, bun oc is a vermicelli soup with a tomato-based broth made by slowly simmering pork or chicken bones, topped with fried tofu, prawns, fish cakes or beef and Vietnamese herbs like perilla and cilantro. Of course bun oc will not be bun oc without the famous escargots – as the French refer to snails. To add even more flavor to this dish, you can either use fermented shrimp paste or chili oil. One of the oldest bun oc spots in Hanoi is on Hang Chai Street, where it is always busy and crowded. A bowl of bun oc costs around VND30,000 ($1.28) a bowl.

Another “cooler” version of this dish is called bun oc nguoi (cold snail vermicelli). This is another traditional Hanoian dish. The broth is made of snails, rice vinegar, special herbs and some fried scallion sprinkled on top. A great bun oc nguoi spot can be found on Tay Son Street.

Lotus seed sweet soup

The lotus seeds are used in traditional medicine but can also be turned into a sweet and elagant dessert, cooked in syrup that has a light taste and a fragrant, heavenly smell.

Banh troi tau (Sweet rice soup)

This is another autumn-geared dessert made with sticky rice and mung beans cooked in a sweet soup made with water, sugar and grated ginger, garnished with toasted sesame, peanuts and coconut milk. The dish adds to the enjoyment of rare rainy days of autumn.

The drinks

After all the walking around and the eating, it’s time for another treat that is part of Hanoi’s autumn charms, thirst quenching drinks that also soothe the soul.

Lotus tea

The lotus is Vietnam’s national flower and found in many parts of the country, but connoisseurs will tell you that the most fragrant ones, which are used to make the famous lotus-scented tea, is to be found on Hanoi’s West Lake.

It is said that it takes about 1,500 lotus flowers to make one kilogram of lotus tea, so the price of high grade lotus tea can go up to hundreds of dollars per kilogram.

    A sip of this tea will make you feel the price is worth it. The fragrance and a sweet aftertaste linger long after you have finished your up. This tea is sold on Nghi Tam Street, and among other places, a lovely café called Huong Mai on Ma May Street in the Old Quarter serves a great cup of lotus tea.

Egg coffee

Much has been written about Hanoi’s egg coffee, and it has now reached places as far as Chicago, but the ultimate place to have it is at its birthplace. 

One of the best places to get a cup of egg coffee is at Giang, a humble café on Nguyen Huu Huan Street, where Hanoians get together on chilly days and enjoy the feeling of warm coffee running through their veins.

Tra da (Vietnamese green iced tea)

Arguably the most popular thirst quencher in Vietnam, tra da is a very simple drink, but an awesome one, nevertheless. Refreshing and affordable, this drink also has a special flavor in Hanoi, compared to other parts of the country. It is more bitter and therefore has great sweet aftertaste. Those who are used to the tra da in Hanoi will tell you that you can get it anywhere else in the country.

In sum, every aspect of life in Hanoi is toughed by the autumn magic, and if you spend a weekend experiencing it, chances are you will extend your stay or play your return even before you leave.

More lovely and stunning photos of Hanoi’s autumn

(Click on buttons on the right to see more photos)

Story by Tuan Hoang 

Photos by Giang Trinh, Kieu Duong, Nguyen Chi 

window._io_config=window._io_config||;window._io_config["0.2.0"]=window._io_config["0.2.0"]||[];window._io_config["0.2.0"].push(page_url:"https://e.vnexpress.net/projects/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season-3824801/index.html",page_url_canonical:"https://e.vnexpress.net/projects/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season-3824801/index.html",page_title:"In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season",page_type:"article",page_language:"en",article_authors:[],article_categories:["Others"],article_subcategories:["Others"],article_type:"longread",article_word_count:"101",article_publication_date:"Mon, 22 Oct 18 09:10:42 +0000");(function(d,s,id)var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(d.getElementById(id))return;js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="http://connect.facebook.net/vi_VN/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.0";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);(document,'script','facebook-jssdk'));

[marketingadvisorvietnam]

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

Marketing Advisor đã viết bài trên http://www.ticvietnam.vn/in-hanoi-autumn-is-a-transcendent-season/

In Hanoi, autumn is a transcendent season

It is a time when the soul turns poetic, mesmerized and spellbound by the charisma that autumn bestows on Hanoi.

The scent of milk flowers in the wind

Green rice scent in your little hands

Leave a fragrance in your footsteps.

Trinh Cong Son’s song, Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi (Missing Hanoi’s Autumn), would play on my neighborhood’s old loudspeaker when I was a little kid.

The indelible memory that evokes extraordinary beauty is refreshed anew every October as I wake up, open the window and a calm and gentle breeze ruffles my hair.

The sun seems mellowed, too.

There are fragrances and hints of fragrances in the air, lingering like a pleasant aftertaste.

When it all seems like a beautiful dream, I know autumn is here, here in Hanoi.

Autumn in Hanoi is a transcendent season. It becomes the muse for poets, musicians and artists, and it becomes the muse that makes everyone’s heart sing.

It casts a spell on everything – the air, the space, the food, the drinks, the fruits.

I was born in Hanoi, and have lived here all my life. Yet, I fall in love every year, at this time of the year.

The weather

The spring brings in warmth after a biting cold winter, and the a scorching summer follows. It rains. Then, autumn steps in gracefully, bringing cool, gentle breezes and sunlight that sprinkles just the right amount of warmth all around. The sky smiles a brilliant smile. The leaves of huge trees turn red, reddish brown, yellow and other hues that adorn Hanoi in this season.

Hoan Kiem Lake (Sword Lake) and West Lake cast peaceful yet stunning sceneries. Cycling or riding a motorbike slowly through the streets of Hanoi at this time is a lovely experience, watching fallen and falling leaves, feeling the soft breeze and soft warmth of the sunlight.

The flowers

In the evening and the night, the famous hoa sua or the milk flower exudes its bewitching fragrance. Along some sections of the West Lake promenade, on streets like Phan Dinh Phung, Quan Thanh, Quang Trung and many other places, the scent is so strong that some people, especially women, said they feel faint.

Autumn also seems to be the season of daisies and lotuses that are carried on many vendors on bicycles and sold on pavements. The sight of women holding bouquets of daisies on a breezy autumn day adds to the beauty of the capital city during his season.

The fruits

Autumn leaves its mark on the capital city with fruits that are particular to this time of the year, that seemed made particularly for this time of the year.

In summer, young dracontomelons are used to make a syrup for a thirst quenching drink. But in the autumn, when they are ripe, these are peeled and sugared or salted to make a snack people love. Dracontonmelon is a fruit that reminds people of Hanoi.

From September to October is also the time of ripe persimmons, when the fruit’s skin turns a glossy yellow or orange, and the pulp is crispy and sweet.

Grown in urban areas and usually close to temples, thi is a fruit is similar in shape and color as the persimmon, because they belong to the same plant species. But the thi is not meant to be eaten, because the taste can be quite harsh and bitter if not prepared correctly. Instead, people buy the fruit for its pleasant and fruity smell to place in the house as a natural deodorant.

The eats

Apart from the fruits, autumn in Hanoi bring to mind eagerly awaited delicacies like beaten green rice and noodle that are packed with memories for both old timers and the young.

Com (Green rice flakes)

Com, immature rice kernel roasted over very low heat and pounded into flakes is an essential of autumn here. Its special sweetness and nutty flavor gets further enhanced by the lotus leaf in which it is typically packed. Having this with ripe bananas is a popular combination that is a must-try dish for all newcomers to the capital city. 

Today this simple dish has spawned many other popular dishes like com cake with mung bean filling, com sweet soup and com ice cream.

Com is not for hasty people. You have to take it really slow, like a food for thought.

Thach Lam, Author

Ragworm

Ragworms can either be fried with meat or eggs with tangerine peels, crunchy and fragrant, with a rich taste. Fried ragworm has always been a favorite of gourmets in autumn for two reasons. First, they can only be harvested during high tides, so they are very rare and expensive (VND500,000 or $23 for a kilo). Second, not many places serve great ragworm dishes in Hanoi. The best places are on Hang Chieu Street in the Old Quarter or on Lo Duc Street.

The late author Vu Bang, a Hanoian at heart, wrote: “An autumn without ragworms feels as tragic as a woman who has wasted her youth”.

Snail dishes

Boiled snails are another favored autumn food in Hanoi, maybe because these are at their freshest during this season. A bowl of boiled snails can be an appetizer before going on to other dishes made with the molluscs. The steamed snails are taken out of the shell by using a small and flat metal pick, and dipped in a chili-garlic sauce.

On colder autumn days, a sweet, sour and savory snail vermicelli soup is great body warmer. An original Hanoi dish, bun oc is a vermicelli soup with a tomato-based broth made by slowly simmering pork or chicken bones, topped with fried tofu, prawns, fish cakes or beef and Vietnamese herbs like perilla and cilantro. Of course bun oc will not be bun oc without the famous escargots – as the French refer to snails. To add even more flavor to this dish, you can either use fermented shrimp paste or chili oil. One of the oldest bun oc spots in Hanoi is on Hang Chai Street, where it is always busy and crowded. A bowl of bun oc costs around VND30,000 ($1.28) a bowl.

Another “cooler” version of this dish is called bun oc nguoi (cold snail vermicelli). This is another traditional Hanoian dish. The broth is made of snails, rice vinegar, special herbs and some fried scallion sprinkled on top. A great bun oc nguoi spot can be found on Tay Son Street.

Lotus seed sweet soup

The lotus seeds are used in traditional medicine but can also be turned into a sweet and elagant dessert, cooked in syrup that has a light taste and a fragrant, heavenly smell.

Banh troi tau (Sweet rice soup)

This is another autumn-geared dessert made with sticky rice and mung beans cooked in a sweet soup made with water, sugar and grated ginger, garnished with toasted sesame, peanuts and coconut milk. The dish adds to the enjoyment of rare rainy days of autumn.

The drinks

After all the walking around and the eating, it’s time for another treat that is part of Hanoi’s autumn charms, thirst quenching drinks that also soothe the soul.

Lotus tea

The lotus is Vietnam’s national flower and found in many parts of the country, but connoisseurs will tell you that the most fragrant ones, which are used to make the famous lotus-scented tea, is to be found on Hanoi’s West Lake.

It is said that it takes about 1,500 lotus flowers to make one kilogram of lotus tea, so the price of high grade lotus tea can go up to hundreds of dollars per kilogram.

    A sip of this tea will make you feel the price is worth it. The fragrance and a sweet aftertaste linger long after you have finished your up. This tea is sold on Nghi Tam Street, and among other places, a lovely café called Huong Mai on Ma May Street in the Old Quarter serves a great cup of lotus tea.

Egg coffee

Much has been written about Hanoi’s egg coffee, and it has now reached places as far as Chicago, but the ultimate place to have it is at its birthplace. 

One of the best places to get a cup of egg coffee is at Giang, a humble café on Nguyen Huu Huan Street, where Hanoians get together on chilly days and enjoy the feeling of warm coffee running through their veins.

Tra da (Vietnamese green iced tea)

Arguably the most popular thirst quencher in Vietnam, tra da is a very simple drink, but an awesome one, nevertheless. Refreshing and affordable, this drink also has a special flavor in Hanoi, compared to other parts of the country. It is more bitter and therefore has great sweet aftertaste. Those who are used to the tra da in Hanoi will tell you that you can get it anywhere else in the country.

In sum, every aspect of life in Hanoi is toughed by the autumn magic, and if you spend a weekend experiencing it, chances are you will extend your stay or play your return even before you leave.

More lovely and stunning photos of Hanoi’s autumn

(Click on buttons on the right to see more photos)

Story by Tuan Hoang 

Photos by Giang Trinh, Kieu Duong, Nguyen Chi 

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