Wild Thing 浣熊

Wild thing, you make my heart sing

You make everything groovy, wild thing

Wild thing, I think I love you

--The Troggs

There's all kinds of crazy things to see and do in Seoul. You can sip a latte from a toilet shaped mug or chow on a doo-doo shaped chocolate scone at the Poop Cafe (yes, really). You can grow a mermaid tail or sit inside Van Gogh's Starry Night at the Trick Eye Museum. You can make like Sherlock Holmes and solve your way out of a locked room at the Escape Room Experience. Or you can eat freshly killed and still writhing octopus at the Noryangjin Fish Market.

These things all sound like a blast for me, but neither birdMAN nor Dumpling would agree. So while my crazy ideas got nixed, birdMAN and I  did agree on craft beer, cheeseburgers, and pizza during our Seoul weekend. But what about Dumpling? Isn't there a fun place for an active three year old in super hip, super fun, and super trendy Seoul?

Brews and a snooze is a win-win

We are definitely in Seoul: beer comes with a side of dried fish and hot sauce

The answer is yes, and that fun place involved coffee and raccoons.

North Americans may share my view: raccoons are just giant rats in cute, furry coats. As many campers have experienced, raccoons seem to have a personal vendetta against humans to spoil their camping trips. They break into ice chests and scatter hot cocoa powder everywhere, and viciously snarl when shooed away. Lock up the hens, lest a raccoon emerge from the storm drain thirsting blood. In the dead of the night, raccoons smite innocent chickens, leaving their owners (or in our case, a houseguest which happened to be my sister) to clean up the aftermath under the brutal summer sun.

So you see, raccoons don't get any love from me. But Dumpling, on the other hand, has never encountered a wild raccoon. She thinks they are as they appear: cute, furry animals. The Raccoon Cafe attracts coffee lovers that share Dumpling's view. I suppose the vast majority of Seoul dwellers have never encountered a wild raccoon (raccoons are native to North America) [1].

For 10,000 won ($8), patrons can fawn over, awe over, pet, and of course, take an ussie with a very plump and docile raccoon. Throw in an americano or latte for an extra 2,000 won. But there are rules. Latte drinking and raccoon cuddling may not be done at the same time. The cafe area is separated from the animal area by a glass wall and a gated door. Wild raccoons and coffee shop dwelling raccoons have this in common: they will attack for snacks.

Besides the raccoons, the cafe also has some meerkats and the tamest dogs I've ever encountered. An aggressive child could probably play tug-of-war with the dogs’ ears without even getting a (deserved) doggy nip.

For about two hours, Dumpling was over the moon with delight, the only kind of delight that a three year old can exude. She danced around in glee, alternating between petting the raccoons and playing catch with an exceptionally talented dog that caught balls midair. And I have to admit, even though the room smelled like a petting zoo and my clothes were covered in animal hair, the time spent at Raccoon Cafe was time well spent.

You might wonder, besides curious tourists scratching an itch for the outre, who else goes to the Raccoon Cafe? My guess is people who live in cities and have little exposure to wildlife. While raccoons living in a fourth floor coffee shop smack in the middle of a bustling city is far from natural, humans have a natural urge to be at one with the furry kind; and that urge may be satisfied even in the most absurd settings. 

There are, however, some unanswered questions I have about the Raccoon Cafe. Do the dogs ever go outside?  Do the raccoons ever go outside? Where do these raccoons come from? Was that blonde raccoon bred to be blonde? Surely, a blonde raccoon couldn't survive in the wild. Are the raccoons happy? Is it ethical to house nocturnal animals in a coffee shop where they are bothered all day to take pictures and get petted?

Truthfully, these raccoons reminded me of domesticated cats. When they weren't snoozing, they were snacking. When they weren't snacking, they were relieving themselves somewhere in the room (the raccoon keeper was quick to clean up any messes). Otherwise, they were snuggling up to some fawning animal lover, who had forked over a load of money to be at one with the raccoons.

I admit, my prejudice against raccoons was squished flat. Raccoons aren't all giant rats in cute, furry coats. Some of them are cuddly and cute. Just don't leave any hot cocoa around for them to steal. That just might unleash the wild within.

Chinese word of the blog: 浣熊 huànxióng

English translation: raccoon 

[1] https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raccoon

Island In The Sun 爪哇

When you're on a golden sea
You don't need no memory
Just a place to call your own
As we drift into the zone

On an island in the sun
We'll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can't control my brain
-Weezer

Last February, we made our winter migration south to the beautiful, balmy, coffee loving island of Java, Indonesia. For one week, we found refuge along a one mile stretch beach called Batukaras. Batakuras was a perfect place to lay on the beach, watch the clouds float by against a backdrop of equatorial blue, admire kids effortlessly surf the waves, and not think about tomorrow or yesterday.

At one point, as we savored a cup of freshly brewed Java coffee, birdMAN said, “We moved to the wrong country.” Yes, we had fallen in love with Indonesia. Not only is the food amazing, the language decipherable, but the coffee was as abundant as the sea has waves.

Whereas some Chinese dishes seem to have more oil and MSG than actual food and the predominant flavor is salt, Indonesian cuisine is fresh, flavorful, and oh, oh, oh so good. As we always do when on holiday, we lived from meal to meal. Morning banana pancakes, noontime guacamole, afternoon lemon refreshers, evening curries--our bellies never went empty. Even now, I dream of gado-gado salad, blanched vegetables and fried tempeh topped with a fragrant concoction of coconut milk, ground peanuts, chilies, and garlic. Indonesia is the birthplace of chicken satay, skewered barbecued chicken doused with a sweet, gingery, and salty sauce. Papaya, pineapple, lemon, and avocado were just a few kinds of the juices made fresh upon ordering. We feasted on barbecued fish, squid, or shrimp drizzled with lime and served with a side of garlic, chilies, and soy sauce while sitting beach side and listening to the waves lap the shores. It was simply, deliciously, entirely flavor heaven.

Meal with a view

I go gaga for gado-gado

As the cuisine is pleasing to the palate, the ebb and flow of the language is pleasing to the ears--and much, much, much easier to learn than Chinese.  Like English, Indonesian is not tonal and written using the alphabet. That means learning Indonesian avoids major difficulties: remembering tones and meaning based on pictographs (Chinese characters). For me, I have to say a new word or phrase a gazillion times to say the tones correctly and convey meaning. Mastering simple phrases like, “How much does that cost?” can be a painful and frustrating.

Not so with Indonesian. The first time I ordered chicken (ayum) with no coaching or hand gesturing whatsoever, the server understood me. What crazy world is this? Some of the words are derived from English, such as taksi (taxi) and resto (restaurant). Furthermore, we encountered several westerners who not only spoke Indonesian, but appeared to be in deep, philosophical conversations with local Indonesians. As Indonesia is the fourth most populated country in the world, there are many opportunities to make Indonesian friends.

We also found a common bond with our Indonesian friends: a love for coffee. In China, finding a reasonably priced and decent cup of coffee sometimes may feel like an elusive dream. But coffee dreams come true on the island of Java. Cheap and delicious coffee was available 24-7 at every street-food vendor, guesthouse, street corner, and 7-Eleven. How Indonesians feel about coffee may be summed up by Bono (not the U2 pop star, but the civil-engineer-turned-artist/surfer Indonesian we met at our beach retreat): “When I don’t have coffee, I feel like dying. I see a beautiful girl, I don’t care. I still feel like dying.”

Care for a spot of coffee?

A cup of Java in Java

The food, the coffee, the people, the all around pleasantness of Batukaras certainly revived our tired Beijing souls. While we mostly spent the days chillaxin’ beach side, we managed get in some jogging and surfing.  We slept at the comfortable Villa Monyet in bamboo hut under a thatched roof. There we chatted with the surfing-loving staff over cups of Java-fresh coffee, waved off the vicious mosquitoes (note-to-self, must bring mosquito repellent), and breathed in the tropical breeze fragrant with durian, bananas and rain.

Click HERE for more pictures

Chinese Word of the Blog: 放轻松 Fàng qīngsōng
English translation: Relax, chillax

Do I blend in?

Our surfing instructor