Munck & Zemanova

Mumbai's Best Rooftop Bar

Christina Zemanova — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 09:22:00 GMT

When you’ve had it up to your neck with smog, noise and traffic log jams, there’s only one suitable refuge in India’s most bustling metropolis: The Dome rooftop terrace bar.

The taxi beeps its way through the endless and disorderly queue of three wheel rickshaws, bikes, and scooters along Marine Drive in midtown Mumbai.

After an entire day of sightseeing and trawling through the city’s numerous antique shops we’re beat, dirty and thirsty. And as our nerves have been worn wafer thin by the city’s millions of death defying drivers, we head for the best safe haven Mumbai has to offer: The Dome rooftop terrace bar of The Intercontinental Hotel.

As soon as we’re dropped off by the driver the door is opened by a bellhop greeting us with a sincere smile. Our bags are immediately searched, and we’re both frisked (ladies by ladies behind a discrete curtain, of course) by guards who offer a dozen excuses for this troublesome procedure. No need to apologize, however. Everybody wants to be safe these days in Mumbai after the terrible terrorist attacks that hit two of the city’s landmark hotels The Taj and The Trident Oberoi, and all around Mumbai security has been beefed up. You can’t have a coffee, go to the cinema or even shop for groceries without first going through a thorough bag search, which is very reassuring.

As soon as the elevator reaches the 8th floor the surroundings seem to undergo an instant transformation, and we’re almost blinded by the light of the Dome bar. The décor is bright and subtle, yet distinctly luxurious, with pristine white cloudlike couches, and transparent barriers, blocking sudden windgusts, but allowing the light breeze from the ocean below to reach the bar above.

And then of course there’s the view. Nothing less than phenomenal. Slow moving silhouettes of friends chatting in the shade of the palm trees, and couples taking a romantic stroll along the sea shore whilst enjoying the last rays of sunshine as day turns to dusk.

From this altitude the traffic below fades to a constant, but distant and pleasant afternoon buzz.

If Mumbai’s traffic, hustle and bustle is a disease, this is surely the cure. We order a couple of local Kingfisher beers, served immediately in tall chilled glasses, accompanied by a bowl of chilly crisps and some casual conversation from our extremely polite waiter.

The laid back and airy ambience eases the build up of big city tensions, and instant relaxation occurs after very few moments, as our hair catches the breeze. The seats around us quickly fill up. At one table three aussie girls with huge Grace Kelly shades are sipping champagne cocktails, and at another a young hindu couple is enjoying the best Dome has to offer: a table at the very edge of the ledge, comfortably seated in two off white armchairs, flanked by a chilled bottle of French chardonnay with front seats to the sun setting in the metropolitan haze.

The menu carries everything from bite size snacks to full fledged Indian cuisine, and behind us three sushi chefs are standing guard in the open kitchen, ready to commence roll rice ad cut fish at our command.

Some may claim that this is not a real Indian experience. On the contrary, the mixture of foreigners and the local jetset heading out for the first sundowner is typical of Mumbai’s cosmopolitan air.

It’s expensive, for Mumbai that is, which means that almost all Western budgets will suffer no serious damage from a local draught and some freshly cut sashimi or a plate of chicken tikka masala.

HOTEL INTERCONTINENTAL MUMBAI (MARINE DRIVE-MUMBAI); 135 Marine Drive, Mumbai.

Go further: Read Mashup Culture's guide to the best rooftop bars in Istanbul and about Louise enjoying life at Hotel de las Letras rooftop bar in Madrid.

Kebabs To The People

Christina Zemanova — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 15:49:00 GMT

Mumbai is a chaotic mishmash of people, three wheeled rickshaws, incense, colourful jewellery, soft pashmina shawls, shouting touts, and – most of all – a thousand scents of food simmering everywhere in the street.

Street kitchens are an Indian institution that will always beckon empty stomachs. Fresh naan bread, stir fried vegetables, skewers filled with beef and chicken soaked in sauces and tasty spices as well as juice stalls with every possible fruit freshly squeezed into liquid thirst quenching vitamin explosions.

Appealing for the budget traveller, no doubt, but every order comes with the inevitable side dish of fear that you'll spend a certain amount of time in your hotel restroom regretting your careless spontaneity. For the hygiene is far from always adapted to western tummies and the consequences can be sad and long lasting.

However, your anxiety seems to vanish in the haze of spicy fumes from the bustling kitchen of the confidence inspiring Bademiya. This well established food stall is situated on a small scarcely lit alley, adjacent to the always congested and busy commercial street, Colaba Causeway, that provides a constant flow of market merchants, tourists, and shopping locals.

Only a few yards away lies the renowned restaurant Indigo that has earned a reputation as one of Mumbai's top culinary spots, where uniformed chauffeurs drop off men in bespoke suits and stiletto clad women strutting their glitzy saris and Gucci handbags.

But that's Mumbai's contrasts in a nutshell.

At Bademiya there are no uniformed ushers, no table waiters, and no reservations. Just a small guy with a huge heap of white paper, used for jotting down the relentless stream of orders coming from the hungry crowd scattered around the smoke filled kitchen in a seemingly uncoordinated queue.

In the midst of the raucous six grill chefs juggle the orders through whitish smoke from a grill teeming with tandoori chicken and skewers of minced beef and heavily seasoned kebabs.

The pavement is clotted with a small armada of plastic tables, filled to the brim with people. Masticating and chatting cheerfully, as they watch the skilled bread chef baking fresh naan on the ball oven with one hand whilst preparing the dough with the other.

We opt for the chicken rolls as that seems to be the dish of choice amongst the locals who don't even glance at the seemingly incomprehensible menu. To skewers are meticulously imbibed in marinade and thrown on the grill, and we enjoy a 'Thumbs Up'-coke while waiting.

Around us people from all layers of society are tucking into the delicacies of Bademiya. A street sweeper with fingers covered in dry dirt is hawking down an oversized veg-roll, and next to him a middle class family has spread out an entire buffet on the hood of their shiny white BMW.

In a matter of minutes our chicken rolls appear from the grill, wrapped in The Hindu Times newspaper.

The food is a revelation, even for two die hard kebab enthusiasts as us. The chicken is well grilled and perfectly seasoned and the bread is still steaming hot, and although the roll contains nothing more but spicy onion rings the result definitely ensures the Bademiya chicken roll a medal spot on our world kebab hit list. On top of this the delicious meal only set us back around 100 rupees (approximately 2 dollars). Surely, this cannot be done cheaper, better or more charmingly.

In the below mouth-watering video you can find out more about Bademiya.

BADEMIYA; Tulloch Road, Apollo Bunder, Behind Taj Mahal Hotel, Mumbai, 400039, India. Open from 19 to 01.

GO FURTHER: Also Martin Selsoe has a soft spot for kebab. Find out here where in Istanbul he goes to eat giant kebabs.

Movie Tourism At Park Hyatt

Aske and Christina — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 10:56:00 GMT

We’ve always found that there’s something strangely fascinating about experiencing a place for the first time that you’ve only seen in a movie. Taking a stroll along the Canal Saint Martin in Paris’ 10th arrondissement where ‘Amelie from Montmartre’ hangs out or gasping from Vertigo at the sight of the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur that Catherine Zeta Jones and Sean Connery climbs in ‘Entrapment’, or simply enjoying the kitchy lobby of The Mirage Casino being robbed in ‘Ocean’s 11’.

It’s the same welcome feeling of déjà vu we sense when arriving at Park Hyatt in Tokyo. The Kenzo Tange designed towers in which some of the most memorable scenes and superbly understated dialogues take place between Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson in Sofia Coppola’s breakthrough film ‘Lost in Translation’. Not least in the restaurant cum bar The New York Grill on the uppermost 52nd floor of the modern skyscraper complex minutes from Shinjuku Station, the busiest rail and subway hub in Tokyo.

Photo: Jeroen020

After a small labyrinth trip through the hotel, changing elevators a couple of times, we’re greeted at the elevator door and shown to a table in the restaurant. And wow, the view is so breathtaking that we hardly notice the stylish décor, the cool open kitchen or the other guests for some time. When we finally return to our senses and manage to pull our eyes from the magnificent panorama over the evening skyline we realize that we’re sitting smack in the middle of a luxury enclave of steel, glass and wood, crowned by the huge windows that make out the outer walls top to ceiling.

Photo: Loremipsum

Around us a there is a pleasant mixture of trendy Japanese and shopping weary foreigners, sipping wine and cocktails in the black and chrome interior.

Rumour has it that the hotel is a favourite haunt for local movie stars and CEO’s, so we scout around – but can’t see any. Could be that they’ve settled for room service this Sunday evening. A small army of waiters exit the kitchen in a constant flow, carrying lavish portions of duck, fresh seafood and of course the world famous Japanese beef.

Photo: Shyuhan

Our waiter brings us a couple of Asahi beers, and we sit and sip and enjoy the ambient mood which is surprisingly laid-back for a luxury hangout of this category.
The price tag is – obviously – a tad elevated, and after 20.00 – when the live band starts playing – the management slaps a ridiculous 5,000 yen (around 40 euro) cover charge in your face – even if you’re an in-house guest coming to have dinner.

Might be worth it if you’re just visiting, but instead we decide to save the money and splurge on a room to get the full experience. Not a bad decision as the view from our room over the brightly lit Tokyo skyline is just as good as from the New York Grill.

"For relaxing times – make it Suntory time" Photo: Paulamarttila

Instead of running up a huge bar tab above we make good use of the mini bar, filled to the brim with Suntory Whisky. Because apparently, Park Hyatt has decided to live by the slogan that Bill Murray tirelessly repeats in the film: "For relaxing times – make it Suntory time". Most certainly so.

NEW YORK GRILL, top floor of Shinjuku Park Tower, 3-7-1-2 Nishi-Shinjuku; Tokyo.

People Watching In Giant Scramble Crossing

Aske and Christina — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 09:09:00 GMT

Photo: WordRidden

When arriving in Tokyo you sometimes feel as if you've parked your spaceship on another planet entirely.

The gargantuan outdoor plasma screens on the building facades, the huge neon signs that fill up the vacant space above the pavements, the thumping and ubiquitous music, and - of course - the inhabitants. The Japanese are so stylish, so perfectionist, yet so over the top that we keep bumping into lampposts when trying to walk and observe the strange creatures that pass by on the streets of the Japanese capital at the same time.

Copyright: Aske Munck

This is why in Tokyo it's imperative to quickly find the best spot from which to engage in some serious people watching - safely seated.

Such a place is Shibuya, an area which also houses one of Japan's most busy subway stations and which is also known as one of the country's foremost fashion centres for young hipsters. It's also one of the crowded places for a night on the town with plenty of cheap eats, bars and - of course - karaoke joints.

Copyright: Aske Munck

As soon as we step out the metro on an ordinary Monday afternoon we are awestruck by the sheer number of people in the street. A huge wave of people is moving across the streets in all directions and you're unable to pin point the source of this steady stream of people or exactly where they're going.

We seek shelter at a familiar face, Starbucks, across the street from the Hachiko exit. From the upstairs floor you can sit and contemplate the buzzing crowd from a safe distance with what is clearly the best viewpoint over the Shibuya crossing.

Copyright: Aske Munck

The crossing is reportedly the world's most busy scramble crossing, where vehicles in all directions are stopped at the same time to allow pedestrians to safely cross the street from all points simultaneously.

Like steadily flowing tides they are shored up, until they are suddenly released from all sides, instantly inundating the entire crossing at a tremendous speed, but always without any serious head-on collisions. And in style. From the so-called cos-play gothic lolitas wearing almost Victorian outfits combined with the ever popular childish look of porcelain dolls, to flamboyant men and women dressed in second-hand 80ies fashion and girls in bright our even fluorescent clothes, decorated from top to toe with cute jewellery and brightly shining accessories.

Some women even mix traditional Japanese clothing with more conventional Western clothes and sometimes a beautiful kimono wearing lady straddles by in her wooden sandals, chatting away on her cell phone.

We sip our American lattes and look at a company casting young women for a TV commercial and a camera crew doing interviews. They appear almost as small immobile stones in a flood of people, and like water people move around them and swirl on in the continuing stream of faces filling all corners of the gigantic crossing.

Definitely a place to visit when trying to get the hang of Planet Tokyo.

The Crispiest Peking Duck

Aske and Christina — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 09:16:00 GMT

The chef sends us a smile through the glass window frame. He then grabs hold of the duck, hanging upside down on a hook in the window, empties the boiling water out of it and hangs it up to dry before sending it to the ovens for a final heating session.

Inside the lively Xihe Yaju restaurant our polite waitress ushers us past the many tables where people are laughing sipping aperitifs and winding down from a hard day’s work. It’s only 7 O’clock, but the place is already jam packed. All the tables are teeming with extreme amounts of small plates, but that’s just because the Chinese always order far more than anyone can eat.

The restaurant is right next to the lovely Ritan Park, and our table is situated in a former courtyard, as would appear from the old tree that grows through the floor and the ceiling.
We cast a furtive glimpse on the menu but immediately seek out the Peking duck, which is what this place is famous for.

A friend that has chewed his way through loads of Beijing eateries has recommended the place and told us that this was without a doubt the best place to have the legendary Peking poultry experience.

Peking duck has been an integral part of Chinese cuisine for more than 700 years, and the first traces of this mythical meal date back to cookbooks and recipes from the 14th century. It quickly won over nobles and even emperors alike, and poets lauded the delicious dish with its divine mixture of crunchy fat, crisp skin and juicy meat.

It is in fact a special kind of duck that is used to fill the mouths in Beijing. The newly hatched ducklings quack about in the open air in the first 45 days, after which period they are force fed four times a day for almost three weeks. When their weight reaches six kilos their short lives come to a tasty end.

Air is injected under the skin around the neck to separate the skin from the fat. The young duck is subsequently dipped in boiling water and hung to dry, whereupon it is covered in a fine layer of syrup before going into the oven until it attains the characteristic shiny light brown colour.

It takes about 45 minutes to obtain the desired colour. We thus enjoy our cold entrees first before we become reunited with our duck, which is now suitably clad in its shiny light brown garb.

The specially trained chef then sharpens his knives and commences an astonishing act of dexterous dissection of the steaming hot animal. Wafer thin slices of crisp fat and meat is placed in neat order on elongated plates and served up with transparent pancakes, cucumber, carrot, onions, Hoisin sauce and garlic paste, which we eagerly roll into small tasty titbits until we are ready to burst.

XIHE YAJU RESTAURANT , Northeast corner of Ri Tan Park (朝阳区日坛公园东北角), Chao District Beijing

Go further: Eat Chinese in New York's Chinatown

A Futuristic Railway Ride

Aske and Christina — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 09:23:00 GMT

Train buffs or not, everybody agrees: No trip to Japan is complete without a ride on the famous Shinkansen, or Bullit Train as it is also called. It might sound as a tempest in a teacup, since a lot of countries have high-speed-trains, most notably France, China, and Tawian. But take our word for it: The Shinkansen is well worth the elevated price tag.

It’s a futuristic experience combining the ubiquitous Japanese cleanliness with the persistent penchant for transportation efficiency.

We enter Tokyo Station and become one with the steady flood of people, washing in and out of the gigantic underground patchwork of tunnels underneath Tokyo Station.
Passengers from all walks of society scatter towards the ticket booths and subsequently head for the conveniently located snack sellers to stock up on supplies for their trip.

In Japan, there is no such thing as a sandwich train lunch. The Japanese, however will willingly queue to get their hands on their favourite bento box – a small pre-packed lunch box that carries a neatly arranged assortment of fish, meat, veggies, rice, and chopsticks.

We do like the locals and afterwards head for the designated Shinkansen departure gate, where the train is being prepped by a small army of uniformed cleaners.

Copyright: Aske Munck

The front of the Shinkansen 700-train most of all looks a streamlined white Beluga whale, guarded by a platform railing. We are led inside the train by the smiling personnel, who point us to our seats with their white gloved hands. The train body is wide as an airplane with pleasant deeply reclining seats - even in second class.

The airplane mood is emphasized by our fellow passengers who now all simultaneously unpack their bento-boxes that have the unmistakable appearance of single serving in-flight snack trays.

Copyright: Aske Munck

And if somebody should have been so unlucky as to have forgotten to buy a bento-box, there is – of course – the train stewardess (well, actually one per train wagon), who whisk up and down the centre aisle with a small cart.

The ride is smooth, without the usual railway ‘kachong’ sound, and it feels as if we’re flying across the landscape in an extremely low flying passenger jet.
Although it may not ride at its top speed of over 300 kilometres per hour, the Shinkansen cruises at formidable speeds, and accelerates forcefully after the infrequent and stressfully short stops, where passengers line up in order to be ready to almost jump off the train.

Two hours and 22 minutes later we arrive, well rested, in Kyoto, about 400 kilometres from Tokyo.

Go further: Momondo goes trainspotting

Going Downstream In Shanghai

Aske and Christina — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 09:27:00 GMT

It’s Sunday afternoon in Shanghai, and large Chinese families, western tourists and local lovers holding hands stroll along the western Huangpu river bank, most commonly referred to as ‘the Bund’.

The meandering crowds are accompanied by a raucous cacophony of high pitched voices from the eager touts, persistently peddling Polaroid souvenir shots with the trademark Pudong skyline as a grandiose backdrop.

Copyright: Aske Munck

On the river, tug boats, cargo ships and cruise liners steam along almost as closely squeezed together as cars on a motorway. The staggering amount of huge vessels on the water is living proof that Shanghai is still one of the world’s largest and most busy ports, and one of the absolute musts on a visit to the city is a cruise on the Huangpu River.

We buy our tickets at one of the numerous boat companies offering one hour sightseeing cruises down the river (shop around for the lowest
prices) and board the boat with a crowd of solely Chinese tourists.

The Chinese immediately head for the heated restaurant where they unfold and impressive load of snacks for the trip. We head for the open air viewing deck.

The captain revs the powerful engine, and the boat commences a daunting zigzag in and out of the large cargos and bulk carriers as we sail past the The Oriental Pearl Tower, the characteristics giant tripod tower jotting out of the Shanghai skyline on the Pudong side.

Turning our heads as we glide past the magnificent scenery, we marvel at the sight of some of the most exquisite examples of early 20th century art deco architecture on the Bund, most notably the Customs House, the Bank of China building, and the Peace Hotel, formerly known as The Cathay.

All three buildings were designed by the notorious architect firm Palmer & Turner, which is also to thank for several other buildings along the Bund. Originally built in 1929 by the opium magnate Victor Sassoon and later used as a base for Chairman Mao’s Gang of Four during the Cultural Revolution, the Peace Hotel is currently being refurbished, and is hence covered in green scaffolding, making it an odd cloaked partner to the immense Bank of China next door.

Copyright: Aske Munck

This, however, by no means ruins the spectacular display of art deco buildings along the Bund, we safely conclude after consulting our overstuffed camera memory cards. And a slow trip down the river is without a doubt the best way to appreciate the Shanghai art deco architecture, which is a stark and historically interesting contrast to the modern high-rise towers mushrooming on the opposite bank in Pudong.

Tokyo's Crated Cake Craze

Aske and Christina — Mon, 04 May 2009 07:30:00 GMT

Photo: Nep

There’s a big crowd gathering in front of the display windows at the upmarket Matsuzakaya department store in Tokyo’s posh Ginza neighbourhood.

Dozens of people are gazing dazzled at a baker putting glazing on a huge cake fixed unto a slowly revolving spear. He then delicately removes the cake and cuts it into small wheel like pieces that are instantly cooled, wrapped, put into boxes, and sold to the patiently waiting customers.

It’s a baumkuchen – or as the Tokyoites call it bamukuheno – a persistent cake craze in the Japanese capital, that for some years have drawn a steady throng of customers every single day.

Even though there’re about 40 people queuing before us, we decide to put our patience to the test. We’ve heard much about the wonders of the bamukuheno, especially the ones from Nenrinya, Tokyo’s top purveyor to the people of this so-called king of cakes.

But when we try to join the end of the queue, a polite cake-queue usher points us towards the stairs where the rest of the customers another 20-30 people are waiting, the line having been cut in two to free the shopping mall entrance from the sugar craving hordes and allow for free entry and exit.

The wait, however, as everything else in super efficient Tokyo proves to be very brief. Not least due to the fact that Nenrinya has cut down the choice to two kinds of cake (white or chocolate) in different piece sizes, all explained to you by eager and polite staff, so you can make your choice while you wait in line instead of clogging up the busy counter.

The baumkuchen is – as the name reveals – a European conception and literally means tree cake. The name refers to the numerous rings in the cake, created as many layers of batter are brushed onto the spits, slowly giving the cake its body and robustness.

It’s a time consuming process which explains the relatively elevated price. Minimum price tag is 750 yen for a small piece, whereas the cheapest ring size piece will set you back 1,050 yen.

While waiting we consider which size we should opt for as it’s really difficult to assess how much cake it will take to soak up the minor tsunami of mouth water that has slowly been building up as our nostrils have feasted on the Christmassy scent of the baking cakes. We opt for a regular ring size, though, deciding it’s big enough to last for at least two days.

We decide to make the cake star in an improvised hotel room afternoon tea for two, and it is tasty. Unbelievably so. Releasing hints of vanilla as you crush the many thin rings of sugar coating, hidden within the fine layered cake.

We quickly learn, however, the trouble with eating a corner of a round thing: there are none. The entire cake disappears before our very eyes in a matter of minutes. Our ephemeral slice of paradise gone, in an uncontrollable saccharine feeding frenzy, leaving us both bewildered, contemplating whether we should go back to Ginza for more.

NENRINYA, Ground Floor, Matsuzakya, 10-1 Ginza, Tokyo Chuo-ku.

There's Something Fishy In Tokyo

Aske and Christina — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 09:41:00 GMT

It’s only 05 O’clock in the morning, but we’re already late. Late for the tuna auction at Tokyo’s Tsukiji Fish Market, the biggest wholesale fish market in the world.

Our taxi dropped us off at the main entrance and we’re scurrying about to find the auction hall as we are well aware that under the new rules visitors are only allowed to attend the auctions between 05-06.15 in the morning.

We jump to avoid the rapidly zigzagging forklifts and finally find a fish cutter, resting on a box of crabs, enjoying a cup of hot soup, to ask for directions. Alas he speaks no English. So we give the classic sushi menu Japanese a go … "erh, maguro?" "Hai", yes, he eagerly replies and points the way.

Within minutes we reach the auction hall where an otherworldly sight awaits. The floor is carpeted with huge frozen tuna, and dozens of wholesalers with number tags on their caps are inspecting the big fish to be auctioned off.

They prod the flesh at a special quality inspection incision in the lower back and use small iron picks to hack off tiny chunks off the fish, where the tail has been chopped off. They scrutinize the colour with flashlights and manipulate the small piece of flesh in their hands and chew it a few times to assess the taste and texture, before spitting it out on the floor, like wine tasters.

Suddenly the auctioneer appears, carrying a small stool a bell and a clipboard. He vigorously shakes the bell, and the wholesalers gather around him. He takes off his cap, and the second he puts it back on, the auction commences. It’s impossible to follow the exact amounts of the bidding, but judging from the austerity of the wholesalers’ faces and the fervour of the small auctioneer’s vehement yelling there’s no doubt we’re talking tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of yen.

The price tag is understandably high when you consider that the buyers come from all over Japan and even Hong Kong to take home the best tuna. In the beginning of January the long standing price record was broken when a 128 kilo tuna was sold for a little over 9.6 million yen (almost a hundred thousand US Dollars).

Photo: Gush Party

In a matter of 45 minutes the auction is over, and the tuna – now emblazoned with the name of the buyer – is quickly packed and shipped or whisked off on speeding forklifts to small shops in other parts of the market, where it is cut and prepared for retail or restaurants.

We stroll along the market stalls, counting ourselves lucky not to have been hit by either speeding vans, forklifts or squirts of fish blood, and enter a small sushi shop to heat our frozen hands on a cup of green tea as we hawk down a small stack of tuna sashimi – not a bad breakfast at all.

TSUKIJI FISH MARKET, 5-2 Tsukiji, Chuo-Ku, Tokyo.
Closed on Sundays, public holidays and some Wednesdays.

The Best Sichuan Restaurant In Shanghai

Aske and Christina — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 09:44:00 GMT

To us one of the greatest experiences when visiting a new country is to get acquainted with its local cuisine. And by God, China is no exception. The complexity of the country, however, makes this a daunting task - even with a high-octane metabolism - as there are several regional cuisines, and many local variants on top of this. And nobody is able to eat their way through the whole gamut.

Fortunately for our waste lines we quickly developed a penchant for the extremely spicy Sichuan cuisine, brimming over with dried chillies and wild pepper corns.

In the beginning tears sprang from our eyes, but as many a biologist will know, chilly is more habit-forming than cigarettes, so we found ourselves seeking out Sichuan joints throughout the entire country from Hainan in the south to Xi’an in the west and Beijing in the North. Some were good and some average, but none were exceptional.

In Shanghai we accidentally bumped into a guy from the Sichuan province, and – of course – we asked him which was his favourite Sichuan eatery.“Yuxin. Without a doubt”, he instantly replied.

We had him jot down the name and address in Chinese and hailed a cab, clutching our treasure map firmly in our hands.

A tad disappointed we realized that the restaurant – as so many others in China - was situated in a mall (Zhaoshangju Plaza), and there was nobody to be seen in the vast lobby where the shops were all closed.

A short escalator ride led us to the third floor where a huge crowd was already waiting to get a table. A uniformed waiter handed us a small note stating that we were queuing as number 85 (which she was kind enough to pronounce slowly so that we could recognize it when she called it on the loudspeaker later on).

All around us couples and entire families were chatting loudly, already having a ball.

After no more than 20 minutes’ patience it was our turn to chow. The restaurant is huge and the turnaround formidably fast. The place was packed with people, loud chitchat and enticing odours, and the tables were loaded with beef, chicken, soups, green tea and beer.

We decided not to beat about the bush with watered down entrees and thus went directly for the kill with a brutal combo of the spicy boiled beef and the shredded dry fried chilly beef. And man did we encounter sheer and burning Sichuan bliss.

The meat was not only the best Sichuan we’ve had, but the best food in all of China after six weeks of travelling around. At the same time hot, spicy, perfectly prepared, tender as hell and terribly tasty. Calling, naturally, for a steady flow of the Chinese equivalent to 911: Tsingtao Beer.

Before going we had been warned that the food risked being so hot and spicy that flowing lava would seem like tepid porridge. A warning we happily ignored with burning taste buds and all thumps up.

YUXIN; 333 Changdu Bei Lu (near Weihai Lu), Shanghai. Metro: Shimen Yi Lu

Go further: Eat Chinese with John Rambow in New York and Frederique in Amsterdam.

798 - The Artist Enclave

Aske and Christina — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 09:51:00 GMT

The tiny Chinese girl giggles shyly as she grabs hold of the caged black man’s hugely enlarged lower lip. Her boyfriend gets ready to snap the moment with his mobile phone.

Right next to the couple several other girls gaze at a huge sculpture of a white and furious brute. They approach the sculpture as if the irate beast were a real threat, and opt for a hasty retreat after having posed with obligatory v-sign in front of the art work.

We are at 798 Art Zone – the some what cryptic name for an artist enclave in the eastern part of Beijing.

In the old days it was a huge factory complex, producing electronics for the politburo and housing the workers and their families from birth to death (or at least retirement), but in 2002 artists began to set up workshops and galleries, and very quickly an entire village sprang up with cafes, restaurants, bookstores, shops, and bars.

Photo: Storyvillegirl

Bringing together contemporary art, architecture, and culture the place is now one of the foremost excursion points for tourists and locals alike wanting to have a taste of today’s Chinese creativity.

We stroll through a seemingly endless labyrinth of art houses and galleries. Some are tiny, hidden behind concealed entrances, others huge, almost dry dock-like structures, leaving no doubt as to the original purpose of the buildings. Some require a small entry fee, while most of them are free.

We pass everything from minuscule sculptures and video installations to huge photos and grandiose paintings and even a small shop selling copies of Mao Tse-Tung’s Little Red Book and playing cards with different effigies of Chairman Mo - in sheer veneration of the great leader’s name, obviously.

Walking around for hours we begin to ponder the seemingly harmless nature of almost everything on show at 798. Not that art necessarily has to be dissident, but where’s the critique of contemporary society, of the Chinese leadership and the politburo’s grip on power?

Finally we pass a daring if somewhat blunt installation. It is a small booth standing next to a sculpture. ‘Information’ is says on a small signpost on the booth which is hermetically sealed inn wrapped plastic. A harsh comment on the ubiquitous Chinese censorship, it would seem. Alas, we are told that the booth really just is a freshly delivered information booth and thus no work of art.

But even though the art exhibited in 798 may no longer be very edgy whereas critique of contemporary society is concerned, it is still a nice place to spend a couple of hours.

BEIJING 798 ART ZONE, Jiuxianqiao Lu, Beijing.

Go further: Read here about Munck and Zemanova's visit to Shanghai's artsy village Taikang Lu.

Mandarin Oriental: The Hotel You Never Feel Like Leaving

Aske and Christina — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 10:56:00 GMT

Imagine yourself in the middle of Tokyo sitting stark naked in front of a panorama window.

Certainly not conducive to relaxation for most people. But add 37 storeys, a sauna and a stunning view over the city with Mount Fuji in the background and there you go: you instantly let yourself go, and the tensions evaporate like droplets of water in the overheated eucalyptus steam room on the 37th floor of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Tokyo – without a doubt the city’s top five star luxury temple, occupying the nine uppermost storeys of starchitect Cesar Pelli’s imposing but lonely Mutsui Tower skyscraper in Nihonbashi, Tokyo’s business district.

So here I am, sweating away in the sauna, whilst enjoying the sparkling display of lights from the ever churning metropolis below that seems light years away from up here.

Apart from me, there’s almost nobody here. Only a Japanese businessman, idling in one of the huge Jacuzzis facing up to a gigantic window, giving the impression that you’re floating in a stream of water splashing unto the street a couple of hundred metres below.

Well, actually there could probably be loads of people around, as the über classy five star spa takes up an entire floor with several private spa suites and hot tubs, individual massage rooms, saunas, steam rooms and jacuzzis (non guests can also access the spa).

Photo: The Other View

After an hour long ‘heat and water therapy’ that has transformed me from sooty to soothed, I return to the room – well, 60 square metre apartment to be precise – to change for supper.

Mount Fuji stays with me, however. Because one of the absolute advantages of dwelling at this top notch address is that all the rooms come with a view, no matter the price tag (even the men’s restrooms in the top floor foyer has one).

Photo: Shamam

We marvel at the sight of the sun setting behind the legendary mountain as we contemplate whether to go out for dinner or staying in – in this case meaning having to choose from one of the hotel’s three Michelin awarded in-house restaurants (all with stunning views again, of course) or ordering room service while enjoying a movie on the big ass 45 inch HD-flat screen (with DVD), or just reading a book while lounging on the couch or the bed’s Egyptian cotton linen, listening to our own I-pod that easily plugs into the room’s own sound system.

Photo: Sunday Driver

Spoilt for choice we run into the only real problem when staying at the Mandarin Oriental in such a cool city as Tokyo: you never really feel like leaving the hotel. Ever.

MANDARIN ORIENTAL TOKYO, 2-1-1 Nihonbashi Muromachi, Tokyo Chuo-ku.

The Artsy Village Taikang Lu

Aske and Christina — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 11:24:00 GMT

Photo: Chris and Sue

Shanghai has a reputation for being a shopper’s paradise – which is not far from the truth. But when you don’t care much for either cheap brand knock-offs or gargantuan shopping malls, where you get the real thing but at ridiculously high prices, you inadvertently begin to look for more attractive alternatives. Such an alternative is Taikang Lu.

Photo: Chris and Sue

The area is a cool mixture of old industry facilities and small residential buildings, occupied by artist workshops, galleries, shops, cafes, and restaurants, which have created a cosy neighbourhood in the bustling metropolis, where young and old fashionistas, hip artists, and bewildered tourists meander about the areas maze-like layout.

Photo: Azureisle

In need of a quick pit stop, we enter Kommune, a small café on 210 Taikang Lu where old Chinese propaganda posters adorn the red walls and giggle at the sight of the house aquarium which is filled with plaster statues of Mao and his gang, constantly being encircled by a small school of goldfish.

The coffee and the chocolate cake may be more expensive than in the rest of the town. But both are also exquisite.

Taikang Lu took off more than a decade ago with the renovation of a four storey candy factory that was subsequently turned into an artists’ workshop. Quickly, more and more artists joined the party, and with them followed tourists, shops and the whole shebang.

Copyright: Aske Munck

We stroll down the narrow alleyways and enter a design boutique which has just knocked off 50 per cent of all the prices. “There are far fewer customers than usually”, the shopkeeper sighs.

A lot of other places have also discounted the prices to accommodate the customers’ crisis stricken wallets. We look at graphic T-shirts by the artist Jiji, who likes to mix old propaganda clichés with modern pop culture icons, at interior design and furniture, jewellery, porcelain, clothes, shoes, bags. And of course the many galleries that lie scattered throughout Taikung Lu’s labyrinth of lanes and passages.

Copyright: Aske Munck

Jutting out of the steady flow of busy hipsters you see the local people, who still live right in the middle of the hip hood. They scuffle about with laundry in their arms or stacks of eggs and dumplings on their bicycles.

Photo: A_laubner

In spite of the growing commercialization of the area, they refuse to give up their old neighbourhood, and so far – thank God – nobody has forced them to move. So you will still catch them sitting in front of their small houses or playing go or ma-jong side by side with the in-crowd, which is exactly what gives Taikang Lu its alluring charm.

Go further: Read here about Munck and Zemanova's vi to Beijing 798 Art Zone.

The Best Of Chinese History

Aske and Christina — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 10:30:00 GMT

When you travel far and for a long time your priorities tend to change. You begin to trim off the obligatory must sees, particularly in the big cities where the lists of attractions are overwhelming. Quite honestly, we cannot be bothered to visit some lame sight merely because a guidebook has listed it as a sine qua non on any given tour.

In our case the tourist waste basket is full of museums, because so many cities have so much history, and history – unfortunately – tends to be presented as if it were really just files in a bureaucrat cabinet: grey, dull and ghastly lit. A welcome exception to the rule is the Shanghai Museum.

The centrally located building which looks almost like a dim-sum-box is situated right on the People’s Square where the visitors are led straight to the entrance atrium paved with wall to wall polished granite.

We wander about the 14 galleries that the museum curators have carpeted and lit dimly, muffling the sounds and making it more easy to focus your attention on the objects on display without being disturbed by the other visitors.

One of the most fascinating exhibits is the absolutely overwhelming collection of coins and bank notes – more than 7,000 of them made of gold, silver, iron, bronze, and copper. Not least thanks to a private collector who has generously donated his huge collection of coins from the old princedoms along the ancient silk trade route to the museum.

We dwell on the sight of some of the first printed private bank notes. Small works of art, ornamented with lavish splendour, promising that the banks will pay the bearer the stated amount in gold.

The permanent collection of the museum consists of more than 123,000 objects, covering everything from calligraphy and textiles to porcelain, jade and ancient imperial seals.

Among the most treasured exhibits are the bronzes from the Shang and the Zhou Dynasties, not to mention the impressive collection of furniture from the Ming and the Qing Dynasties – whose functionality and purified and simple lines and shapes still act as an inspiration for today’s modern Asian design.

Thousands of visitors pass by the museum every day, so we had been told to be ready to queue. When we arrived, however, on a rainy Monday there was hardly anybody there, and we had almost all the galleries and the small tea house on the first floor to ourselves.

SHANGHAI MUSEUM, 201 Renmin Avenue, Shanghai.

An Imperial Afternoon

Aske and Christina — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 11:32:00 GMT

At the end of the imposing palm flanked driveway a two metre tall turban toting usher bows slightly and greets us with a wide smile, gleaming whitely from underneath his impressively lush and twirled black mustachio.

You know that you’re in for a luxury treat when you enter The Imperial Hotel – the Indian capital’s most luxurious address. And what better place to dive into a high tea – this truly brilliant remnant of a long gone British colonial era – than The Imperial Hotel?

We stroll along the marbled floors, past the in-house Chanel boutique and the numerous artefacts and antiques exhibited throughout the premises and turn right to enter the restaurant ‘1911’, aptly named after the year in which New Delhi became the capital of India. The hotel, however, was built much later, in 1931 and stands as one of the cornerstones of the exuberant heritage left by the British.

We actually came for the renowned high tea, but we quickly skip the set tea menu – as we are told it is only served in the somewhat stuffy covered atrium bar – and opt for our own à la carte version of this long standing Brit-tradition in order to be able to enjoy it from the restaurant’s superbly shaded veranda, where you have a great view over the lush lawn (what’s the point of lounging indoors when the Delhi winter is like a northern European summer, anyway?).

We choose a green tea and a masala tea from the house selection, and a few minutes later a waiter appears wearing a bright red and freshly starched uniform with two rows of shiny brass buttons. He pours the tea from small silvery pots with quilted shoulder sheaths, covering the handle so you’re able to refill yourself without burning your hands.

Around us the well to do-Indians are enjoying their Sunday, and a couple of children are playing football with a half-empty water bottle, and a middle-aged man in a dark jacket, turquoise turban and riding boots is bragging about this afternoon’s polo-achievements to some friends.

We sip the wonderfully spicy tea and tug into our crème brûlée and sandwiches, whilst ogling the continuous stream of newcomers through the imposing colonnade.

The subtle chatter from the many tables is brought to an abrupt end when a waiter stumbles and drops a bowl filled with a yellowish substance onto one of the guests. Immediately four other waiters come to his rescue, and within two minutes the unfortunate ‘victim’ is directed to the changing room, carrying a crisp white shirt he can wear while they speed clean his own shirt. Luxury does really make a difference.

THE IMPERIAL HOTEL; Janpath, New Delhi 110001.

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