I have (what hardly qualifies as) a confession: I never wanted to live so far north.  When one moves to the Pacific Northwest, and one has certain Bohemian tendencies and a poetic fondness for weirdos and antiques, one wants to live in Portland if possible, and Seattle if necessary, but never in the suburbs.  Never, say, in a place where the only peaceful feature (say, a walking trail around the neighborhood) is being spoiled by the construction of an impossibly massive Walmart.  Or where, say, the president of the evil Homeowners’ Association (say, the one that hates your ever-so-well-behaved dog based on the fact that certain persons would want to turn his sweetness to aggression and set him upon other dogs) turns out to live next door.

However, every once in a while, there are nice things about living where we do.  I may be developing an ulcer from the stress of just walking Winston around this neighborhood while enduring the sometimes hostile stares of neighbors and watching the earth-movers dig up wetland in favor of low prices, but occasionally I find gems, like the produce place down the road that sells a large variety of competitively-priced fruits and veg, as well as hard-to-find items like tamarind pods and coconut juice.

Or like the beach that Ben found, just ten minutes away.

When I got home on a Saturday morning after duty and my first-ever stop at the produce place to pick up strawberries for a surprise pancake breakfast I wanted to make for Ben, I found him with a haircut and a tip from his barber: there are dog-friendly public beaches all along the Puget Sound.  And he had found one, just minutes away.  Over our breakfast of fruity flapjacks and varicolored hashbrowns (made with the last of the Ballard potatoes, including the oddball purple ones) we made plans to make like explorers and head West.  After all, I would be gone out to sea for the next week, and he would be traveling to set his small-business plans in motion, and Winston would be spending part of the week in the kennel.  We had to make the two short days of brilliant February sunshine that we would have together count.

And I have to give him credit: this is one of the best ideas Ben has ever had for how to spend a weekend.  We had wanted to try to head to Vancouver on Sunday to watch some curling, but the ticket prices were prohibitively high; the beach cost only five dollars to park, and we could stay as long as it was light.  And so, we did.

One of the advantages of the Puget Sound area is that it is both wooded and watery.  We got to hike some short but lovely trails that looked like they belonged in an Olympic Peninsula temperate rainforest, but we also got to watch the water lap the rocks along the Sound and hop from log to log of stranded driftwood.  Winston had never been to the beach before and ran along excitedly taking in the new smells, sights, and sensations.

After a few hours, in mid-afternoon, we decided that we had to obey our stomachs and head out in search of food; we batted around the idea of returning that same day, but February sun is fickle and sets quickly, so we decided to come back the next day instead.

Sunday found us still attached to the plan, so we packed our picnic basket and books (Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke for me, Grace Hopper and the Invention of the Information Age by Kurt Beyer for Ben) and spent another afternoon basking in the warm, if wan, winter sunshine.  We stayed until the sun was nearly ready to set, walking along the shell-strewn beach, enjoying the sights of families out playing or sitting around fires talking.  It was another perfect Pacific Northwest day.  On some days, the sadness of suburbia is soul-crushing; but once in a while, we escape and find blissful beaches on which to rest, frolic, and dream.

A Valentine’s Day Story

Last weekend, Ben and I were stumped as to how to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day.  My gift was lost in Package Limbo, and all I had gotten for Ben were some Twilight-themed chocolates in a heart-shaped box.  Then, as so often happens, it was NPR to the rescue.

Specifically, it was Food for Thought, which was baby-themed for V Day.  One of the foods cited in this celebration of that term of endearment was a Dutch Baby, a type of pancake that can be found at the Original Pancake House.  I was intrigued, and, knowing how much Ben loves breakfast, began to set my plan in motion.

Since my gift was decidedly uncool, I decided that the rest of my gift would be to make a list of options from which Ben could choose as ways to spend our Sunday together.  (One of our biggest troubles seems to be getting out of the dinner-and-a-movie rut…also, making decisions.)  I included the Original Pancake House, the Crab Pot, P.F. Chang’s, and a variety of theatre/museum/film options.  (Okay, so this is obviously not a major step away from our normal weekend routine, but since all of them required driving to Seattle, it was a step in the correct direction.)  Stuck on the ship on Saturday duty, I emailed him the list.

He chose pancakes, and a stop by a market to get fresh seafood.

Arriving home early Sunday morning, I used the powers of Internet and found the nearest Original Pancake House.  There’s one in Ballard, in the northern part of Seattle, across the 5 from the University district.  In a flash of pure brilliance, I recalled the existence of the Ballard Farmer’s Market, and with some savvy Googling found it was five minutes from our chosen restaurant.  In a few mouse clicks, I had not only found a way to justify driving 45 minutes for pancakes but also obviated the need to drive to downtown Seattle, pay for parking, and battle the Pike Place crowds.

The Original Pancake House is everything that other pancake houses aspire to be: hip, crowded, and delicious.  I went with the Dutch Baby that had inspired the trip, while Ben chose a massive five-egg Spanish-style omelette topped in marinara sauce.  Our waitress forgot to bring our banana appetizer and so knocked the cost of our beverages off the bill.  And we were entertained by the incredibly colorful patrons (although Ben was a bit concerned that one of the hipster breakfasters had chosen to wear his plum-colored tights sans culottes).

We then make our way down to the Sunday market, held in the middle of Ballard’s impossibly chic streets full of one-off stores of boggling variety.  While hardly a blip on the map next to the gargantuan Pike Place Market, the Ballard variety is dog-friendly, totally organic/seasonal, and, in short, entirely delightful.  We were able to pick up gorgeous multi-colored potatoes, fresh cod and mussels, liver-and-peanut butter brownies (a treat for Winnie), just-cut pasta, and everything else we needed for Ben to perform feats of culinary mastery.*

Then it was a quick stop at Miro Tea for drinks for the road, and we headed back to our rental in Blandsville.  But I do believe that we will always remember with fondness our Valentine’s day in the land of hippies, hipsters, Bohemians, and poets.

More photos of our day:

*Except for tomatoes, which we could have bought dried but not fresh–that whole seasonal thing.

Christmas Card Picture

Jaci and I have decided that Christmas cards should be a permanent fixture of the holiday time for our family. I believe in the past we have sent out cards to just family, but this year was the first year that we gave some thought into the matter, and therefore we hope the beginning of successful card giving from here on out. To that end, we created our master Christmas Card list- the one that shall be edited in the future based on naughtiness or niceness with the Bengforts- and we staged our first photo shoot in a hopefully long line of Christmas card photo shoots.

Because many of you were so impressed with the card, we thought that we should share it online now that Christmas is over and everyone should have already received their card. Also, some of you who did receive cards may not recognize this picture, and we figured we had better explain why before we got into trouble (we hope to maintain our niceness on other’s Christmas card lists!) First- if you didn’t receive a print card, that is completely my fault. Our list was fairly short in the beginning- so I only ordered 20 cards, however, during the shipping of the cards, the list ballooned past 40, so as a stop gap measure, we printed pictures and included them in some store bought cards. Also, if you received the so called “nice family picture”, that was because we didn’t realize what a hit the picture would be, and thought we had better also look semi-sane to our relatives. Our bad- if you want a copy of the card picture (or the nice picture) let me know and I can make that happen!

Secondly- the question I get most commonly: “Were Winston’s eyes photoshopped?”  No, in fact it was not! While I did use Photoshop to produce that nice warm yellow and red tone to the picture, create good color contrast and balance, and generally touch up the picture, Winston and his eyes are pure products of his doggy modeling ability. Our original intent was that I would be lifting him to the top of the tree as the angel on top. After two attempts at this, both Winston and I felt that we couldn’t keep that up. Instead, we switched over to the pointing method. Winston still refused to cooperate, probably due to the previous two episodes where I was trying to pick him up. However, during the 10th attempt, he finally sat- and this was the resulting image!

We were incredibly lucky to get this shot, and in only 10 tries! As you can see from the nice picture below, Winston refused to behave for even the nice pictures, but we were glad we caught him so photogenically! Here’s hoping your little angels cooperated more this holiday! Happy Boxing Day!

The Nice Family Picture

Bengfort Family Christmas 2009

Merry Christmas!

Jaci did manage to make it back from Rhode Island in time for Halloween- so we decided to celebrate in style. Three weeks ago we had gone to the pumpkin patch to pick up our perfect lanterns (a new Halloween tradition for Jaci, not so new for Ben). So the first order of business was to carve the lanterns. Winston is no stranger to carving lanterns, or dressed up strangers, as we had Halloween at Leckford Road both years in England, but country life has made him a little more farm ready for pumpkin patches. As you can see from the pictures- we went for classic style jack o’lanterns and they turned out very well!

Jaci was a little worried that we would have no kids show up at our house, since we are on the corner of a cul de sac- so she decorated the outside with a Halloween banner, some fake leaves, and 2 of the pumpkins. Obviously, one had to stay inside by our “hearth” to protect us from evil spirits- their main purpose on all hallows eve. (Note: we don’t actually have a hearth, but all this is metaphorical at best). To further prepare for trick or treaters we dressed up- Jaci as a fairy and me as sort of an old school vampire (teeth, cape- no diamond skin) but was wearing jeans. Winston started out as a dragon monster, but after some costume failures, he also became a fairy with his mother. (The failures were due to his teeth, but what can you do?)

For dinner, I made pumpkin, dahl, and roti. Amusingly, I was wearing a “Blood donor” apron while I was cooking, which went very well with the teeth and the cape. While cooking we enjoyed birthday martinis for Jaci, and during dinner- some of our new wine (thanks mom and dad!). We watched An American Warewolf in Paris as our pseudo-scary Halloween movie (which hopefully Jaci reviews- its now one of her favorite movies of all time– so bad its good!).

But we were quickly interrupted from our relaxing night by ghouls and ghosts in the night! There are hordes of kids in our neighborhood- in fact we quickly ran out of candy. Mostly this is my fault- at the beginning because we thought we would be skipped over, I may have been overly generous with the candy giving. Around 7 I had to make a frantic run to the grocery store to get more candy. Unfortunately in my panic, I grabbed six bags of candy- which was way too much, so in the end we had too many left overs anyway. While I was driving to the grocery store I was amazed by the number of kids in our neighborhood- seriously crowds like those in our neighborhood you can usually only find and sports stadiums!

Jaci was jet lagged- so unfortunately she passed out way early (although, pretty late for east coast time). I continued Halloween with Interview with a Vampire, then True Blood, and made it to All Hallows day! So here’s wishing you all a happy All Saints!

I first apologize to all readers for the woeful dearth of blogs. I have in the past four months transitioned to a completely new life and lifestyle, and have not yet managed to revamp my blog to match the changes in my life. I do hope to change this.

The major adjustments in my life are threefold: I have moved back to the U.S after 3 years in China, I have started a Masters program at GW’s Elliott School of International affairs in DC, and I have entered the high-power corporate world that is the ICT industry, telecoms specifically, as intern for Verizon Government Relations.

Like my new neighbor Barack Obama has promised, I have experienced change. So far the change has been mostly positive. I am thoroughly enjoying my studies and classes, I love living in the beautiful city that is DC, I am thrilled with my position at Verizon, I’ve made a great new group of friends, and I have begun a couple of new recreational activities- salsa dancing and frisbee.

The only negative change is that I’ve had to say goodbye to my boyfriend, who is still in China doing a year long bicycle trip. My fingers are crossed that he will join me in DC next year.

I hope to change the nature of this blog to coincide with the changes in my life. I will still write about China within the scope of my studies, but more likely than not, my blog will be about life in DC, just as I had written previously about life in China. Hopefully this will still be interesting to readers!

The Gangsta Chef with his French Knife- note the E.Dehillerin Knife in one hand, and the Rick Stein Cookbook in the other.

If you don’t know E.Dehillerin, then two things may have been omitted from your life experience: any (even cursory) training in french cuisine or possibly a trip to Paris with someone who has had such training. My training (cursory as it was) came in the form of television cooking shows and Rick Stein at a Rhodes Event in D.C. Therefore, when Jaci and I went to Paris in 2006, one of our destinations was of course E.Dehillerin on rue Coquillière, which was barely three blocks from our hotel.

It was like a fairy tale on the inside- shelves of sous pots, whisks, kitchen gadgets, and of course, chef knives on bare plywood and wire racks. The aisles were perused by serious looking men and woman with a look of having gotten up at 3 am to begin the morning sauce prep only to have their break dedicated to finding a new companion at arms in this magical culinary warehouse.  The staff was efficient, professional, and serious- this was no tourist destination, this was an epicenter of culinary culture in the heart of the culinary world and they quickly found me a chef knife that was balanced perfectly for me and my limited talents, completed the transaction, and ushered me out the door with a “bonne cuisson”. To say the least, it was the experience in my cooking career.

After managing to get the chef knife through customs on the Eurostar (a chef’s knife was not uncommon luggage between Paris and London), the knife stayed corked and papered for the duration of our stay in Oxford- no meal worthy of such a chef’s knife. Although the knife travelled with me to North Dakota, it suffered a similar fate.

Therefore, when we got to Arlington and I unpacked the knife simultaneously with Rick Stein’s Complete Seafood on the week before our anniversary- I knew what meal this knife was destined to make- a Ragout of Seafood with Saffron sauce. The ingredients cost well over USD $175, including saffron, lobster, and Pierre Jouet- but this was the meal to break in an E.Dehillerin knife! Jaci thinks that I dressed up with a tie because it was our anniversary dinner, but in truth, I dressed up for the knife- what self respecting writer goes at his work with a bic in pajamas? The same had to be true for the knife.

Dinner took over 4 hours to make- but it was a complete success- due primarily to the magic of the knife (the dinner was well above my pay grade). And thus, a Gangsta Chef and an E.Dehillerin finally became united.

Winston rides along as we pull the UHaul through the Northwest!

Well it is that time already- I have been in North Dakota for 11 months, 18 days, and 9 and a half hours: Juy 1, 2008 – June 19, 2009. Today is the day that the dog and I hook up the trailer and pull all of our stuff out to Arlington, WA to be reunited with Jaci in a very nice house that is about 20 minutes north of Everett! It has been an eventful year, and full of lots of weather, but it was a very good experience living somewhere that was so far out of my comfort zone. Now that I’m gone, I’m positive I’ll miss it!

Mom made the trip out from Columbia to be a road assistant and dog handler on the trip, so we are looking forward to spending some time together. Thanks to her amazing packing effort, the trailer was loaded (well- Mike would be proud because of his UPS background) in record time, and we managed to leave around 930. The truck is all loaded up, and seems to be pulling ok- but so far it has been struggling up the mountains, and we haven’t even hit the Rockies or Cascades yet! We are in Billings now, and plan to make it to Coeur D’Alene or Spokane tonight, and then make the final push tomorrow. Unfortunately, the weather is looking extremely bad.

Follow @lbengfort and @bbengfort on Twitter to find out more about trip updates!

The title of this post may be a bit dramatic for the present condition of Xinjiang, but “armpit” is the inevitable, if unfortunate, direction that Chinese leaders are taking this once culturally rich, stunningly beautiful and majestic land.
Our trip through Xinjiang lasted two weeks, and during that time we went to most of the “glories” that Lonely Planet bothered to write about. We arrived in the capital of Urumqi, but were told by everyone to get out of that city as fast as possible because it was nothing but a Han (Chinese) dominated dump, which was close to the truth. So, after staying less than 12 hours in the city, we got on a train going south to Kashgar. Kashgar is really all that is left of “majestic” Xinjiang. The culture at least, was still visible, and exploring the Old Town was a trip back in time, despite the Chinese graffiti everywhere, and by graffiti I mean the character “Chai,” which was spray painted across most buildings in Old Town like festering sores. “Chai” has often been the scourge of old Beijing, and means to raze. Every building with the character “Chai” written on it is destined to be torn down at a moment’s notice, on the whim of government developers.
What made it so paradoxical was that every tourist billboard in Kashgar advertised Old Town as a “tourist zone,” and they obviously recognize its worth as a tourist money maker (if not its worth as home to hundreds of thousands of Uighers), but they still are intent on knocking it all down. Apparently Old Town is scheduled for demolition within the next few years, and we had seen it just in the nick of time.
From Kashgar we took a 3 day journey to the Southwest, nearing the borders of several Stans – Pakistan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan. We visited a glacier lake, Lake Karakul, which was beautiful, but the whole experience was ruined by local thugs who extorted money out of us by refusing to let us leave until we paid an exorbitant “entrance fee” to see this lake. From there we went to the Chinese border town of Tashkorgan, which aside from the ruins of a Stone City, unique dress of the Tajik people and beautiful views of snowcapped mountains, was just another Han dump town like Urumqi.
From there we took a drive to the China-Pakistan Border. The drive itself offered breathtaking views of snow-capped mountains, and when we arrived we had the thrill of stepping into Pakistan, under the close supervision of the Chinese border patrol who were a little overly zealous about keeping you in China. The three Pakistani policeman that were there didn’t care whether you walked five feet or five feet 3 inches into their country, but the Chinese sure did, and would shout at you to come back into China if you went just an inch too far.
After that we went to the base camp of the third highest mountain in China, Mount Moseque Ata (spelling is wrong I’m sure), where we camped overnight. That is a story in itself.
Weary after our camping experience, we went back to Kasghar, and from there hopped on a bus to Hotan. Hotan is meant to be the most Uigher of all cities, not as overrun by Han conquerors as elsewhere. This of course meant that communication was a little more difficult, but we still managed just fine. While in Hotan we went to the Sunday market, which was quite the cultural experience. You can buy virtually anything you would ever need if you lived in Xinjiang, sheep’s wool, silk headdresses, carpets, bed frames, goats, cows, donkeys, skull caps, etc. We had an interesting time at the Livestock Bazaar, where there were thousands of sheep, some cows, and donkeys. The only camel we saw in there, however, was a decapitated one. We also visited the slaughterhouse, where they sold every part of the animal except for the head, which lay in piles on the ground. It was a little sickening because I kept imagining that they were human heads!
We left Hotan and took a bus through the Taklamakan Desert, which was an interesting but very long ride (24 hours). The story of how we got on the bus is also an interesting one, which I will leave for later.
Our destination was Turpan, the second lowest spot in the world and also the hottest place in China. It’s famous as a grape growing area, and they certainly could make delicious wine if Muslims drank alcohol. As it is, the Muslims simply dry the prodigious amounts of grapes and make raisins of them. The small wine industry that is there is controlled by the Han, and as you can imagine, the wine is terrible. Most pedestrian paths in Turpan are covered with lattices laden with grape vines, and all over the countryside as well, making Turpan a beautiful city to stroll through. In fact, I would rank Turpan as the most beautiful city in Xinjiang.
From Turpan we went back to Urumqi, which was the start off point for a 4-day Chinese tour that we joined because it was super cheap. The tour took us to the North of Xinjiang, to Lake Kanas, which borders Kazakhstan and Russia. The Kanas area was actually a “Nature Reserve” but the definition of a nature reserve to the Chinese is vastly different to Western perceptions, to put it as tactfully as possible. To get into the reserve you have to pay a steep entrance fee, and then you have to pay just as steep a “transportation fee” because in order to get around the 25 kilometer reserve, you have to take a gas guzzling passenger bus. And then, once you are on the bus, the tour guide stops off at three designated “scenic spots” in which you get off the bus for five minutes, take pictures, and then get back on. Yes, the area was beautiful and pristine, but it was all beautiful and pristine. Only the Chinese like to pick out the best spots, label them as “scenic spots” for photo taking, and that’s it. That’s how the vast majority of Chinese tourists enjoy nature. To top it all off, there was a lot of construction within this so called nature reserve. They were building fake Swiss-style resort cabins, and even a mini city, within this protected reserve. It was a little disgusting what they were doing to this truly beautiful spot.
But, aside from these negative aspects, the areas away from the construction and tourist zones was incredibly beautiful and pristine. The first day Andy and I found a back entrance to the path leading up to Guanyu point, a mountain peak that afforded stunning views of the lake, mountains and forests. Normally you would have to pay an additional 40 kuai just to climb this mountain, but as we snuck in through a back way we didn’t pay. Plus, there was absolutely no one else on the path, so it was like our own private mountain path that we were climbing. The second day we walked several kilometers along the Kanas river, which was beautiful, and for the most part we didn’t see any other tourists (because they just visit the designated “scenic spots” and don’t go anywhere else), so it was tranquil and pleasant, and so so beautiful.
After that we went back to Urumqi to spend our very last night. We went to the night market, which was very fun, and had the most interesting meal of our trip. We had our own little grill on our table, and cooked all our own meat and vegetables (wearing aprons to prevent grease splatter). It was an enjoyable last night. A visit to see the 1500 year old “Europoid” mummies unearthed in Xinjiang was the last thing we did in Xinjiang before we got on a plane back to Beijing, where it was such a relief to sleep in my own bed and shave off two weeks of hair growth (Sorry if that was too much information).
In all, my impression of Xinjiang was that it was like a cake that has been sitting on the counter for a week and then dropped on the floor. When it was fresh, it was absolutely delightful and delicious, beautiful and tantalizing. Then it started to decay, and then through mishandling or mismanagement was mangled even more. You may still want a bite of that cake knowing that it may have lingering sweetness, but there is only a short time until it is absolutely rotten and you have to throw it away. You either need to refrigerate it now to preserve what’s left, or completely begin again. Hopefully my thoughts on this matter don’t get me kicked out of China!