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Charlie's Cafe in Notting Hill

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 20:45:00 +0000

That was a wet afternoon in London. The free local newspaper covered all-soaked Emma Watson at the Harry Porter premier the night before at Leicester Square. Thankfully I could still be able to get some sun intervals this day.

Walked into the Fernandez & Wells Cafe in Beak Street, I ended up being driven out of the shop by the local crowd, just as busy as it has been claimed. The underground strolled through the tunnel from station to station, two hours later I found myself in this quaint little cafe called Charlie's in Notting Hill. I'm glad I was back in Notting Hill again.

Despite the board they put outside the place which was trying to lure passer-bys into the lane directing towards the cafe, I believe not many people could have spotted this hidden gem of Notting Hill.

Charlie's has been delicately taken care of, from the lighting to the cups so used.

Not about the coffee for me the other day, just nice to discover a quiet place to escape the bustling traffic of London town.

Sunday Farmers Market : Perfectly Preserved

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 10:33:00 +0000

Perfectly Preserved, the name of the homemade jam I tried in the Yorkshire Sunday farmers market in Leeds.

Never deny the fact that a Sunday farmers market managed to preserve the very British culture. Perfectly preserved.

One thing I like about farmers market is its originality and being less commercialized. No regret waking up in the early Sunday morning to take a stroll in the farmers market and see and taste around. Pies, cheese, pork, beef, jam, preserves, roll, bread, craftwork, all the things so simple and easily obtainable in the supermarket yet have given me a different feeling being so homey.

I asked for something very British at this Perfectly Preserved stall, I packed home the rasperry with Ameretto preserve that day. And too, the friendliness of the people there.

The Escargot Experience in Paris

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 11:58:00 +0000

Ever since I was a kid, my brain has been instilled with such notion of how disgusting the consumption of snails can be. The word "snails" might sound a bit daunting, but ordering a starter of escargot made the whole atmosphere different.

I am glad I wasn't put off by the whole preconceived thought of eating a snail (or escargot), I am glad I made the first try without much hesitation. In fact, it tasted reasonably well.

That was a rainy day in Paris. I could no longer remember how long have I been caught in the drizzles. PY and I wandered around the city with a bit of hunger pangs, in such an adamant attitude to insist on a typical French dinner. Somewhere in the area between Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, we walked into this little French restaurant tucked away on one street which was really not touristic at all. Wooden interior in red scheme, the stretching long mirror on the wall reflected every face of the people in the space, they were all Parisians I reckon.

I looked towards PY's direction, we were both very delighted of the fact that it was somewhere in Paris where we could escape from tourists. That was an awkward scene. Two young foreign ladies walked along the aisle in that really tiny restaurant passing by all the French conversations. Raindrops were still dropping from my hair.

It was really a warm and welcoming French dinner. Confit de canard (duck confit - a preserved duck) and Pot au feu (beef stew with mixed vegetables but more of a Boeuf Bourgignon - beef stew in red wine). It's really difficult to not fall in love with Paris, food-wise.

Escargots

Confit de canard

Pot au feu

Love Paris The Neighbourhood Way

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 19:53:00 +0000

As much as I love Lisbon, I heart Paris in a very neighbourhood way. Stood by the balcony and looked down from the 5th floor, the little bakery downstairs, the rainy morning, the not so romantic Eiffel Tower...I used to think what makes Paris so famous and it seems like my answer might not be the same as the world has claimed.

I heart Paris in the neighbourhood way, like the colour of strawberries in the morning market, adore the relaxation Parisians have every single day - one cup of cafe serre or a pint of beer, enjoy watching people walking down the streets. Parisians might not be equated to friendliness, but the city is very much quaint to me. Despite many people can tell how posh and elegant the city has possessed to be one, I appeared to be too little before the ultimate destination of Louis Vuitton, the up-range Laduree macarons and threads of designer boutique. In Paris, I am disconnected from the higher end. I walked the small lanes, visited the local bakeries and picked up some cherries from the fruit vendors.

Hand me one freshly baked traditional baguette from the boulanger, a buttered croissant and maybe another cup of cafe au lait, I can tell you how beautiful the city of Paris is.

Street Pictures From Bruges, Belgium

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 12:46:00 +0000

The architecture in Bruges is one of its specialties. Almost every details of the buildings worth a great deal of admiration. The roof, in particular, is typically pictured on the postcards. Spot the traditional styles - Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance and Classic.

Not only the Amsterdam bears the name of "North of the Venice", the canals in Bruges shares the same glory.

The €3 spaghetti found in this cafe which is 26m away from the Markt, where I was first exposed to the "no food no sit down" rule.

The European cycling scene in Bruges

The lace-lady who still possesses the traditional lacing skills in this medieval town of Bruges. However, as famous as the man on the cover of Lonely Planet of Cambodia (who was sitting under the big tree in Angkor Wat and captured by the LP photographer), the shop front has been one of a touristic place. Will she be the next Lonely Planet "handmade" celebrity?

A cafe discovered in a quiet lane

Street performance. Very great music.

The best shop-front I found in Bruges which denotes the Belgian chocolate scene. In Bruges, almost every chocolate shop claimed to have the finest fresh Belgian chocolate. I can't tell the quality of the chocolate they are selling (I know they are delicious), but apparently most of the touristic chocolate shops in the main high streets do not preserve medieval face anymore. Most are found modernly renovated.

Kasper Ceramic, a shop which custom makes ceramic sculptures bearing different professions. Delicate.

Related posts:

How Beautiful Is Bruges
Street Pictures From Christiania, Denmark
Street Pictures From Seville, Spain
Street Pictures From Malmo, Sweden

Of Red Light, Of Country Music, Of Love

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 09:42:00 +0000

The man standing next to side has already half-way crossed the road and almost reached the opposite side of the road. The red light was still on. I was so tempted to march my one big step before the light switched to green. All of a sudden, I got this instant message telling me to slow my pace, calm my heartbeat and enjoy the sun and day. Why such an urge to cross the road? Why couldn't I wait patiently for the green light? Aren't I enjoying my holidays? Why the hurry?

I slowed down my pace.

Walked into a charity bookstore with the earphone still plugged-in, I tried to look for a couple of nice and cheap books. If you haven't known already, all these charity bookstores in England are paradise. I remember those days when I always popped into one of the shops on my way home just to stroll around in the shop hoping to get any bargain on nice books. I really don't mind second or third hand books, they are good and most importantly, I don't see anywhere else can I get a nice book, say Da Vinci Code or Thanks For Memories, for one pound. That's a steal.

Everything seemed to be great in the morning. Some country music were playing in the bookstore. And again I got this instant message of removing my earphones and listening to the sounds around me. Great country beats, very familiar old old voice. I squatted down, put myself in the middle of the boxes of old vinyl records, I was looking for a nice one. Faded covers, great old faces of the singers, marks of time, not only do they play well on the machine, they are one of a design, of decorations on wall too. I got one - The Best of Broadway - at 50p. The cover pictures the vibrant streets in New York back in old days where vintage Coca-cola signboard so found. Broadway-oh-Broadway!

In Otley Road, there are a few charity bookstores down the street. In this other bookstore which I have frequented, I stumbled upon a photography book called "Love", a collection of hundred of pictures by different photographers who successfully conveyed the message of love through all these stunning pictures in the book. Love in wars, love from a tap of shoulder by a father, love of Bob-the-dog, and love and love and love. It is always true, love is everywhere under the sun and I show my appreciation to these photographers who managed to capture love through their lenses. It is a double-sided effect. The photographers felt the love and now I am feeling the love. I am a reader.

I was a bit inspired at that moment. Jotted down this line in my handphone - Stunning pictures which reflect in the future. Now I read the line again but it seems like I coudn't read my mind anymore. What does that line mean? What was I thinking when I wrote that line down in the bookstore? What is the message that I have captured through those pictures?

Funny. I can't read my mind.

So this is about one sunny morning in Leeds.

How Beautiful Is Bruges

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 20:28:00 +0000

When I reached the city the day before, it was already evening. Everything was well kept in the silent page when the night unrolled. In the next day morning, I woke up seeing the sun at the edge of the window. I smiled a bit.

Bruges is not as posh as Paris or London, neither is it as original as Christiana, but as true as the saying of "The North of the Venice". In such a unique way it has retained its originality - see the roof of the buildings in the city and read the fact that no pubs is allowed in the city center - I really appreciate the efforts of preservation.

What a great time tucking in the town's cheapest €3 spaghetti and learned the unique way of dining in Belgium - No food no sit down. There is no food sharing in this country, a person must order one dish to him/herself no matter how huge portion a dish is served.

What a great time savouring fresh and finest Belgian chocolate from shop to shop (I did a couple), discovering little chocolate shop down the small lanes and learning the chocolate art on display. It was really hard to mention "resisting the temptation" in this beautiful town of Bruges.

What a great time bringing myself back to medieval times watching horse wagons passing-by and waving to those tourists in the dashing boats along the canals...

Melting chocolates, street folk music, the boho-style of living and not to forget, the friendly Lybeer Travellers House which served great Salami breakfast. Speaking of living in Bruges, it is only either an one-day-stay or a lifetime one.

36 Wild Hours Experience : The Lake District, England

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 22:20:00 +0000

Finally it was 10 o'clock when I arrived at Leeds railway station. I exhaled my relief to the hazy air. I recalled myself having the throw around me walking around in the city of Manchester a couple of hours ago. I was no longer feeling bothered by the passer-bys' glances. The two-hour walk in the rain has finally taken its toll on me. The past 36 hours were crazy yet fantastic.

The whole story started with G waited at Manchester Piccadily Station thinking about the coming camping in Lake District with no plans, homeless and no food. No, I shall reverse the story to the part when three of us missed the coach in Leeds and train in Manchester and ended up paying more than hundred pounds to compensate the journey. Or I shall fast-forward a bit of the story to the part when I was on the phone with the officer from Virgin Train, the guy from Switch Board and so on asking for help to request for an announcement in the Oxenholme Railway Station looking for our Brazilian friend who lost trace of us because of some technical problem. Really appreciate these helpful officers who accepted my request to make such random and rare announcement.

It was 4pm when we started to make our way uphill to Troutbeck. After the amazing race from Leeds to Windermere, the scorching sun did not seem to shed some light on our homeless plan. Having told by the local officer that we were not allow to wild-camp anywhere below 500m sea level, we eventually crashed a National Trust land. I remember I asked the tourist officer somewhile before that about the consequence of pitching our tent somewhere below 500m, he said “the farmer might come out with a short gun and shoot!”. I was absolutely freaked out honestly.

The survival plan kicked off on the following morning when rain started to pour at 5am. Freezing and windy morning, all of us stayed inside the tent looking for a way out. The rain poured for a long 11 hours with us dismantling the tent in the rain, walking downhill in the rain, talking in the rain, carrying our packs in the rain...that was a freaking two hours of raindrops-keep-falling-on-my-head.

And now I am safe and sound here writing this post, I recall all the fantastic moments despite the wet day and furious night in the country land, it has all been compensated by the good laughters and picturesque views in Lake District. I agree, it's always better to appreciate the better outcome and experience than to rant over the hard times. It was some sort of missions accomplished moment, it was about persistence.

Before I call this day to an end, I shall extend my gratitude to the great couple who has lent us a helping hand in Town End and also to my friend Jac.

A Picture: Sacre Coeur, Paris

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 23:06:00 +0000

High up at this point in Paris lies the architecture which has lured hundreds of tourist at one moment in time. For the last two days of my stay in Paris, I have chosen a hotel in the area of Montmarte where I reckon, is more of the artistic part of the city. Those lanes which were highly in contrast with those avenues near Champ Elysees however did not lose any of its identity being somewhere I can get to know more about Paris, albeit being the “other” side of the Paris. However posh the city has claimed to be, the lower income group has always become the spine of the city, both economically and politically. From local mini stores to music and art shops, from the owner to the customers, none of these has failed to possess their sides of Parisian community being friendlier and more approachable. Many of my peers who have recently visited Paris did not seem to have much positive comments with regard to the Parisian community.

At this instant, I would say, it is a matter of notion.

I have very much enjoyed the area of Montmarte. Not as touristic as Eiffel Tower and the Arc, or Notre Dame, but there is this highest point of Paris which I found very thrilled in visiting. I recall the recent drama hit which possessed this place as the dream place of one of the main characters. That morning, after one very authentic croissant and black coffee breakfast, I followed the footprints of fellow tourists to witness the magnificent Sacre Coeur. At first sight, it is only stairs, three domes and hundreds of tourists. At my second sight, it is about the birds eye view of the city of Paris, the violin player and silent romance.

It was just a half-an-hour visit to Sacre Coure, yet it was a lifetime picture.

I shall remember the violin player whose music has accompanied the tranquility of Sacre Coeur and formed part of the picture of this highest point in city. No, I am not the violin player.

First Love in Paris

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 21:25:00 +0000

Walked out of the doggy hotel at the 3^rd arrondissement in Paris, headed into the neighbourhood with the excitement of experiencing a Parisian morning, I stepped into a brasserie at the corner of Rue Vieille du Temple. Nothing was better than ordering an espresso to replenish the tiredness accumulated from the tedious journey yesterday before reaching this city of light and the sleepless night in the cranky hotel.

Sat by the bar facing a typical coffee machine watching the barista preparing my cuppa. Hot water being pushed through the fine ground coffee at 130psi, a small cup of espresso with light brown crema on top was then served. My friend and I didn't make any food order, in a chatty mood we sat by the bar and watched the Parisian morning over our cups of espresso and cafe au lait. A lady sat behind us was rather distracted notwithstanding the book found in her hand, her focus fell on everything around her. It was “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie playing in the air, I must admit, I fell in love with Paris in the brasserie for the very first time.

That morning I was out in the city of Paris looking forward to my first cup of cafe serre and cafe noisette, besides asking what the city was going to offer me.

The Beatles Story: Not A Starbucks Experience

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 10:24:00 +0000

A cappuccino can never last more than few nice songs in somewhere I find very comfortable and pleasant. This day, I've finally made my way back to my most loved Starbucks by far, here in The Beatles Story Starbucks in Liverpool.

Grabbed a couple of photography collections and a book from the rack, the first sip of my cuppa is always incredible. I've always wanted to come back here ever since my last visit on the very first few weeks I touched down in England, and now here I am again. The place remains the same, perhaps I can't tell whether how nice a cup of coffee they are serving here but I am here for the Beatles experience, the third place set against a backdrop of Beatles' collections of musics. Ironically, not for Starbucks experience.

The last line of this book titled “Shout! The True Story of The Beatles” which I've just grabbed from the rack read the following: “Tears glisten in the big mournful eyes as he says that for him, above all, the Beatles will always be 'just four guys who loved each other'. Which perhaps best sums up the whole story.” The author spent more than twenty years to write a book for The Beatles, despite the overloaded bandwagon which seemed to offer no space for any more stories about this band from Liverpool, as he so claimed. For me, Liverpool impression is all about The Beatles. I'm not surprised to find out how much passion has the world ever shown to the four voices after rambling through lines in this book.

This afternoon, I have no regret walking all the way to this cafe for another Beatles coffee experience. Meanwhile, I don't deny the fact that how successful has Starbucks in luring me all the way from Leeds to have a cuppa here in Liverpool. Extraneous as it may seem, this little break has really meant a lot for the past few hectic days. I can't deny the power of a cup of cappuccino in somewhere I truly love has really helped easing the tension accumulated over the past 92 hours. Little satisfaction, huge happiness. Remember I wrote about this £2 luxury in The Beatles Starbucks when I first came here, I still felt the same today.

Sometimes it's just about what I'm going after. Lifestyle.

Related post:

Liverpool: The Beatles Story

Salvo´s Salumeria: Italy At Doorstep

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 09:26:00 +0000

Having stayed in Leeds for almost a year now, the Salvo´s Salumeria is the best discovery I could ever claim. Just right opposite the road, a stone throw distance away from my place lies this beautiful cafe which happens to be my favourite hideaway in Leeds. Spent some quality time in this cafe, I was really impressed by the cordial nature being such a great combination and integration of the wait(ress)er and Italian cuisines in that very little space.

I have previously been to the Salvo's restaurant which is a door away from the cafe, this time I have really had some great time hanging around in the cafe doing some readings and stuff. S claimed that this cafe, in fact, served very smooth latte. Cup after cup of coffee time in this place has really made me missed it each time I thought of a coffee break during mid-afternoon.

The other day I was there with a bunch of good friends savouring the very good Italian wraps, pizza and broccoli-based pasta. Very authentic taste and experience, especially for the greenish pasta, albeit not too heavy in taste, it was really a brand new experience for the tastebuds.

Will I be back there and spend some quality time again?

The Canadian Guests: Just A Little Maple Syrup

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 18:17:00 +0000

Remember the morning I woke up being struck by Monday blues, a little sleep-deprived, a little tetchy and touchy, traced the soft screeching sound of hitting cutleries down the corridor to the kitchen, I remember that was the beginning of the week. Irritable as it may sound, in fact, the week kicked off perfectly with the full flavour of a Canadian breakfast and quality savour of maple syrup by virtue of our guests from Canada.

I am so grateful for their efforts to prepare the breakfast which looked rather simple at first sight but tasted incredibly délicieux. It was really a big step into the dreamy world of maple syrup which instantly rang the bell of such craziness and cravings among those Canadian friends. When I was told about this little secret recipe of adding orange juice into the mixture of eggs and milk for the French toast, I pondered a bit before scrambling it down somewhere in my head. Special no?

Having always looked forward to visiting guests over at my place, that morning they have really added more colours to our regular mornings. Waking up to a distinctive foreign breakfast, I reckon, is a wonderful way to kickstart a Monday morning. I was really delighted.

Merci. J'apprécie cela.

Out In The Ice-cream Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 31 May 2009 14:12:00 +0000

Just a night ago Shoujo Shakar (on the BBC Radio Leeds programme) described yesterday's sunny day as the ice-cream weather, there I learned the ice-cream sun.

It's 17 celcius degree today. That was a long walk to Chapel Allerton for a Thai buffet lunch, another small town not far from the place I stay but who can deny that it's a long yet beautiful walk. I am sure I wouldn't have made the efforts to do such a long walk into the neighbourhood along Stainbeck Road rambling through those avenues and lanes if I wasn't going for the lunch today.

I must admit, not until I lived in England and went through the different seasons then I would start to appreciate the sun as one very precious gift of the day. I can't tell how many posts in this weblog that I have written about the sun outside my window, the sun in the park, the sun in London, all being the same sun but has since given me different experiences and thoughts.

Walked out the Thai restaurant in Chapel Allerton with a bulging tummy and contended smiles on my face, I felt the heat started to surround my body. I know summer is already here. Along my walk back I have finally taken out my camera to snap a few pictures of this English neighbourhood nearby. Towards the end of the walk, I realized, in fact, I should grab myself a scope of ice-cream for this lovely ice-cream weather.

Combination of Art and Natural Colours

A "Considerate Bench" for people like me when walking uphill

English house gate

Particular rose

CNN Featured Christiana: End of A Dream?

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Fri, 29 May 2009 20:38:00 +0000

In particular relevance to my recent trip to Christiana, Denmark, CNN today featured an insight exploration into the community of Christiana which has really brought my experience closer to reality. Everything reported by Jim Boulden attaches so much of familiarities to what I have seen, heard and felt there in the freetown. I have previously posted three entries of which links can be found here:

Exploration Into Christiana: What, Who & How
Exploration Into CHristiana: No Violence, No Hard Drugs, No Guns
Street Pictures From Christiana, Denmark

Remember when we walked out of Christiana, we talked about it, from the people to its activities. Today, not only did I find myself so mystified about the community, CNN has showed great interest in it as well. I really think this video shows a significant insight of the community for an individual would not normally be able to see the brighter and darker side of it if he/she did not get a chance to talk to the local. At this moment, I can conclude my experience about Christiana in a line: What one sees are doubts, what one heard are truths.

Here is the link of today's CNN featured video about Christiana:
Christiana: End of A Dream?

Into The Town of Belem, Lisbon Portugal

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 28 May 2009 10:32:00 +0000

I have previously written about the specialty in Belem, a small town which is half-an-hour journey away from Lisbon. Only until recently that I started to miss everything back in Portugal, I thought of the serenity in Belem. The wondrous Monument to the Discoveries, Tower of Belem...in an honest note, everything back in Portugal I can somehow relate to what I have heard and seen over the past 20 years. Being under the occupation of Portuguese many years ago, Malaysia has absorbed some of the very elements in our lifestyle, notably in the region of Malacca. Perhaps it's not so obvious in other part of the country but it is some part of the stories my mum have told me ever since I was a kid. The stories of the little bit of Portuguese culture back in those British schools in the 1950s and 1960s, this and that.

Therefore in Belem, right on the square behind the monument to the discoveries lies a huge world map noting those regions where the Portuguese has occupied. Very impressive indeed, I laid down for a snapshot of the "Malacca in Portugal" and me. That's the best thing about traveling, I never know what I am going to stumble upon during my journey, let alone those pre-arranged itineraries, there is always a little surprise which highlights that part of the journey being more remarkable.

Spent a short afternoon in Belem walking by the strait and passed those fishing lovers who reminded me of my dad, at this moment in time, I won't deny, I really miss Portugal. I wish I'm going back sometime in near future.

"Malacca in Portugal" and me

Related post:

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A Real Taste of Portuguese Tart in Portugal

Bicycles in Denmark: Sense of Jovialité and Breeziness

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 24 May 2009 12:14:00 +0000

Ever since I started to put myself in the European culture, I have somehow thought cycling can never be excluded as some part of the picture. Despite not the same massiveness as those seen in Beijing, the bicycles in these European countries are not any less common here. I shall recall those lovely bikes on the streets in Copenhagen with the adornment of flowers and carriage of groceries and books. While the bicycles in Beijing denote a breakneck pace of the city, the bikes in Copenhagen are senses of jovialité and breeziness. I must admit, I embrace the tranquility and mirthfulness of these places in Europe.

Related posts:

At One of The Southern Tips of Europe: The Ilha Deserta

The Snack Bar: Christina's Special Burger, Faro
A Peaceful Walk in Kilkenny

Cafe Talk in La Cafetiere, Leeds

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 21 May 2009 19:22:00 +0000

Ever wonder how many people on earth intend to have their own cafe?

That day, I was having this cafe talk with some friends in this cafe which I have always wanted to frequent. Imagine those cafes which you always passed by at your left hand side (maybe right), but time just didn't make good of such a cuppa for a nice afternoon. But true, I was there the other day.

J said she desires a cafe in Canada when she reaches some age in her life. In fact, she wasn't the very first five or ten people who told me so, the number of stories which I have heard can somehow offer me the conclusion that, that intention is inherited, if not inherent, in us. Perhaps, I need to seek psychological explanation why so many people under the sun desire their own established cafe. That day, we kept on talking on that topic, from the theme of the imaginary cafe to the very detail of cups so used.

At this moment, I arrived at an explanatory thought. For someone who loves to hang out in a cafe, this person embraces particular detail which is inherent in a cafe. For me the wall is the determinant aspect of my favourite cafes. It is every of this tiny detail (maybe significant details) which shapes that imaginary cafe in our head. Or maybe, I was wrong as this explanation might not make sense.

I am curious. At the time of reading, do you have an imaginary cafe in mind?

The colourful furnitures

The ceiling

The wall

The crowd

The sunny afternoon

Related posts:
The Smallest Cafe in the World: Verdens Mindste Kaffebar, Copenhagen
Cafe Europa Copenhagen, Denmark
Coffee Break in Castello do Paulo Tea Room, Lisbon
Afternoon Tea At Pickles & Potter

Street Pictures From Malmo, Sweden

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 17 May 2009 18:56:00 +0000

What I can recall about Malmo is all about the crossing of Oresund Bridge, the plank-steak from Mando Steakhouse, so-called best onion ring with Bearnaise sauce, tempting kanel-brulle from Pronto cafe, colourful chairs outside the cafe at the corner, the photograph lane, a huge dog, the very cheesy cheese store, the girl in front of the cafe and those laughters from my two very cheerful friends.

Malmo, is as simple as that.

Related posts:
Street Pictures from Seville, Spain
Street Pictures from Christiana, Denmark
Street Pictures from Madrid

Coffeehouses in Malmo, Sweden

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Thu, 14 May 2009 20:07:00 +0000

Just across the bridge of Oresund lies the small town of Malmo where I found little indulgence. In the name of a coffee trip, I didn't see any excuse for me not to explore more nice cafes in the town and have a nice cuppa to give myself a treat. Before I move on to attach more of my observations about Malmo in the next entry, this piece of writing is all about the coffeehouse in the town.

Expresso House in Malmo, is as familiar as the Starbucks down the corner in our place. Its ubiquity didn't appeal to me as much as the mom-and-pop coffee shop next door. These days mass-produced gourmet coffee, to me, seems to be the ordinary cup being labeled "Premium Arabica Coffee", of which I started to doubt myself paying £4 for the same-or-maybe-less cuppa in the mom-and-pop cafes which cost only £1.80.

Pronto, the chosen coffeehouse during my day in Malmo, gave me a taste of the local coffee culture where albeit having the international coffee menu as any other cafes in the world, the pastry did ring for differences. One aspect which I shall recall from my travel experience is that, 7-11 tends to offer most of the local delicacies or pastries, of which has always given me an idea of the classical local food in any new place where I was about to explore. Just moment before my friends and I pushed through the door into Pronto, I saw the big advertisement display at the corner 7-11 showing a well-baked kanel-brule - a cinamon roll looks quite different from a danish type yet tastes the similar.

There we were in this coffeehouse in Malmo called Pronto, with my cup of cafe latte and first piece of kanel-brule. Budget indulgence.

Related posts:
Cafe Europa Copenhagen, Denmark
Coffee Break in Castello do Paulo Tea Room, Lisbon
Afternoon Tea At Pickles & Potter

Perfect Morning Picture: 12st May 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Tue, 12 May 2009 20:32:00 +0000

This day, when the exam spirit started to loom around, while everybody thought staying inside the room or library and burying their heads inside the piles of books was the best way to prepare for exam, I put on my cardigan and headed my way down town. Got myself in the crowd, fed myself with more natural colours, there I was in the Leeds city market.

Having located at the northern part of the city centre, I rarely did my grocery shopping in the market. This morning, with a bit of stress stuffed in my head, I walked around the indoor and outdoor market picking up some freshest fruits and vegetables. The market, indeed, offered me a vast combination of colours, voices and faces. People were there with their refreshing morning spirits looking for fresh ingredients to prepare for the day. I felt the morning energy efflorescing among the people. I liked watching people moving around in the morning, I enjoyed the sun reflecting the energy which I have always been looking forward to see every morning when I woke up.

Morning crowds. Fresh vegetables and fruits. Stalls. Old building of Leeds city market. Vendors' shouts. Big fat pigeon. And me.

Here painted the perfect morning picture for 12st May 2009.

Across The Oresund Bridge

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Sun, 10 May 2009 08:45:00 +0000

For one who travels to Denmark will surprisingly find out that the Danish tourism is actually making an effort to promote the tourism in Sweden. As near as both countries in distance that we can easily map out, in fact, that's a strange scene. It's hard to see, in my humble opinion, that the tourism center in Johor Bahru (the southernmost state of Malaysia) will as well include the tourism in the land of Singapore of which location is just across the Singapore-JB Bridge. That's not the case in Copenhagen and Malmo (the southern part of Sweden) where both countries are linked by the well-known bridge, namely the Oresund Bridge. No doubt, that's the drive behind our trip across the bridge to explore into the Swedish culture.

Just a little tips here. As far as travel brochures are concerned, rail is the main transportation to travel across the Oresund Bridge of which costs can be as high as £17 (return) for a 30-min journey. We were fortunate enough to find out later from the locals (and information center) that there was bus service 999 available at the bus stop in the square near Tivoli Garden for the price of less than £10 (return). Fair enough.

What's left for the rest of the day was the breaktaking views of the Oresund Bridge and straits. The return journey to Copenhagen was greeted by the "Danish-Swedish" sunset, it was indeed a journey worthy of note-taking, let alone photos capturing.

Intrigued as I always be, what lies beyond the Oresund bridge? Malmo, the small university town where I found little indulgence.

When The Sun Is Around Us

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Fri, 08 May 2009 09:00:00 +0000

When the sun is making a comeback this week, I can somehow feel hopes have started to blossom somewhere again. It was almost a week ago when we were surrounded by ample sunlight throughout the day, great companies for UK version of Australia Anzac Day, out for picnic in Hyde Park and a short-sleeved walk in the city before the following week struck us with drizzles and gloomy weather.

This morning I woke up to this beam of sunlight falling on my bed. It's really a great first flush for me to kick off my day, left me without much hesitation to climb out from the warm blanket. The routine followed by toasts with egg on jam, a cup of St. Augustin Colombian coffee and a peanut butter crumpet. It is really amazing to see how I have enjoyed myself with simple breakfast yet a pretty enlightening one.

With the sun being around us, I love walking down the streets watching people thronging at the backyard or open-roofed area of the pubs, sipping their afternoon beers. It is interesting to observe how the coffees on the roadside Starbucks tables have changed from a hot and smoky one to an ice-blended one. I'm definitely not surprised to see more Dark-cherry blended mochas these days.

Having met all these international exchange students over at my flat, I have started to get used to having them around. Apparently, with the sun around, it cheers us up by bringing more delighted spirit in our spaces. The Anzac biscuits from the Australia Anzac Day celebration were really good. The Mexican chicken Mole (a mixture of chillies, herbs, spices and chocolate) yesterday night was a thumbs-up one. Our Boston friend's Parmesan-topped sizzling chicken was a darling really. The English scones-baking and tasting, despite not too masculine for the guys, was really exquisite for us, in an English way. With the sunny spirit around, it is not hard to illuminate bundles of laughter through a wine glass or a beer bottle these days.

I can see and tell how much significant the sunlight ever meant to us, or particularly me. I can tell from the people savouring the sunlight across the parks in London, be it a small park or a big one, even during their short lunch break from work. I can sense from the swirling barbecue flavour in the air and hear the laughters reverberated from somewhere not far from my room. Amazing.

The act of embracing sunlight, in fact, makes us not much different from the trees at the park. That's when the sun is around us.

20 Beautiful Years and Counting

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Fri, 01 May 2009 14:22:00 +0000

It is amazing to feel how I am feeling now, the day before one attains the age of 21. I have so many questions in my head, about how do others feel about a 21st birthday, is it so significant a day, does it mean something to me...how do you feel? This day, I laid my head by the windows watching the kindergarten kids walking pass my residence, too many memories struck me at the same time. I can't believe I have walked this far taking along with myself the experiences of sadness and happiness, regrets and gratitude...and lots of laughters. I can't believe God has given me such opportunities to meet all these great people for the past 20 years. I can't believe I am writing this now reminiscing how I have come this far. In this writing, I tried to recall the bits and bits.

1988
My brother once told me that he first saw me when my parents were sending me home. He saw this car driving his way that evening. He knew his younger sister was finally home.

1989 - 1992
I don't seem to remember clearly about things happened within this period, but vividly there was these questions asked by my mum every single morning and night about how did I call this and that (in Mandarin) in English of which subjects varied from vegetables, colours, animals, vehicles, etc. I liked sitting on my dad's shoulder when I woke up from bed each morning. It is always so good to be the little girl at home - the little daughter and sister.

1993
Believe it or not, I was one of the laziest in the class. The kindergarten teacher caned me 24 times for not handing in any homework over the one whole week, right in front of the 23 students in the class. I was actually quite proud of that experience today.

1994
From the laziest to the smartest (I very much doubted this) in class, that year I was watching others being hit on their palms. The kindergarten teacher, Ms. Leong, is no doubt one of the most respectable teachers I ever had. Dedicated and loving.

1995
The teacher had me put on a ballet skirt during the violin performance on the annual year-end ceremony. Now when I looked back at the picture, I thought who on earth would have worn a ballet skirt to play a violin.

1996
I could still remember clearly those evening when I reluctantly ended up at the violin teacher's music room with some other students playing on the four strings. However, when I was 16 I realized my passion in violin being so elegant an instrument I have ever owned.

1997
The violin teacher went missing all of a sudden.

1998
The family moved into a new house. I was childish enough to be so excited about the grass in the garden.

1999
When I start thinking about the year 1999, I can't really see myself being so proud of the year itself. I was selfish and naive. I did something so wrong which I once assured myself that I will never repeat that mistake again.

2000
"Do you want to study in a high school in Kuala Lumpur?" Mum asked me this question one afternoon. I agreed with that decision in a reluctant way. However, five years down my high school times in Chong Hwa KL, I told mum that I would have regretted if I ever said "no" in 2000.

2001
I never told my parents that I actually cried when I saw their car driving out of the school compound. That was the first day moving into the Chong Hwa hostel. Unfamiliar places with unfamiliar faces. My first and only cry for homesickness. The first year in Chong Hwa turned out to be a fantastic year, a good beginning for my high school education, with so much of childishness and simplicity but fun.

2002
I couldn't see where did I ever get the courage to raise my hand in the class volunteering to take part in the speech competition that year. That classical move brought me into the public speaking field for the very first time. If not because of that simple move, I wouldn't have walked down the public speaking journey meeting so many great people beyond my own nose ever since.

2003
I was an irresponsible class monitor.

2004
Weeks before my brother's wedding, I could feel that deep down inside of me I didn't really like the feeling of him getting married because naively I thought I would lose a brother's love when a sister-in-law came into the sibling's picture. I was wrong. We have had more fun, and more fun on the way I am sure.

2005
The time before final exam didn't have us occupied with revision, instead, the classmates were busy camcording in the class, trying to capture every single precious high school moment before we embarked on our own path. That video made me cried for so many times in the subsequent years. At this moment in time, I still very much agree with the strong bond ever built during high school times. Strong and still fostering.

2006
That year, I thought I met someone very special. I took a picture with him during the SAMFest in college. It was some time later I fully understood the meaning of being "special". No, he wasn't special.

2007
That morning when I have the plan to study in Florida, the next morning I found myself being an Inti student. See how I can change my mind very rapidly.

2008
The two-hour flight from Phnom Penh back to Malaysia, my mind was stuffed with lots of past negative experience and unhappiness. That was the time I realized, in fact, I am privileged with all that I have had. If I were to name a turning point in my life, that particular two hours marked a sea change in my personal character. Sometimes, it's just a matter of instant.

2009

20 beautiful years and still counting...

Mic Meets Ida Davidsen: A Real Taste of Danish Smorrebrod

noreply@blogger.com (Mic. Tham) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 21:13:00 +0000

Walking down the streets of Copenhagen, a tap on the shoulder on any locals asking for nice Danish food, they would have definitely recommended us with Ida Davidsen. Eponymous as it is, this cafe housed one of the most delicate smorrebrod in Copenhagen. I was first introduced to smorrebrod during last Denmark trip, having in mind the ordinary sandwich I have always had, smorrebrod turns out to be an open sandwich on a buttered rye bread (usually dark brown in colour with a firmer texture) topping with wonderful ingredients like fillet, eggs, shrimps, spinach, salami, black-coloured lumpfish roe, tomato and any sort of accompaniments I can ever name of. The topping is commonly called the Pålæg. I personally think the creation of a smorrebrod is equivalent to the creation of a piece of food art.

Thankfully we were able to fill one of the reservation intervals (the reservation was massive) during our third visit. The first two visit was a total disappointment as Ida Davidsen did not operate after 5pm and during weekends. I told Ida Davidsen, the owner of this restaurant, about this opportunity to be able to catch a bite of her smorrebrod on our last day in Copenhagen. That was a laugh really. Between us.

At the time of writing, I did not have enough experience to tell how classy Ida Davidsen (the restaurant) is, but one can definitely not expect a high street price for a smorrebrod in this place. That being said, the length of time we spent to choose the ONLY smorrebrod out of the wide variety of choices and colours, added together the after-taste of the bread and accompaniments, I reckon my friends and I would have definitely agreed to the point that, price is the second thing to consider in Ida Davidsen. Only for your information, there is no price listing in the restaurant, yet we can somehow tell the price range for a smorrebrod to fall within 50DKK and 150DKK (£7 and £20) or maybe higher.

If I ever get a second return, I won't miss this place. Meanwhile, I will also hit the street to get a taste of my second smorrebrod. Let's see who beats Ida Davidsen in the town!