The Ivy Noodle

When I got home this week, my Dad and I were feeling adventurous and decided to try a new restaurant: The Ivy Noodle in downtown New Haven (home of the best restaurants around, as it happens!).

There wasn't a lot of seating inside - it was a narrow place and the tables were up against the wall, opposite a bar which my Dad and I sat at. Still, the place was busy, and the staff was quick and efficient as I could hope for. I ordered chicken lo mein and my Dad ordered wonton soup, and we watched them prepare the food behind the bar while we waited.

I wish I had thought to take pictures when the food came, because they first thing I noticed was that it was aesthetically pleasing. My lo mein was piled high on a plate, long noodles and strips of chicken and large pieces of bok choy glistening and steaming and promising the best of flavors. My dad's soup was even better: in a deep bowl with a large, ladle-like spoon, the wontons floated in a relatively clear broth, surrounded by strikingly green vegetables and green onions. I had to try his even before digging into mine. 

Speaking of mine, it was the best lo mein I've ever tasted. While most Chinese food places produce food that simply tastes fried, with noodles that are overcooked and mediocre flavors, this food simply seemed more "real." The noodles were perfectly cooked, for one. Whatever sauce covered it was delicious and tasted smoky, but what I really remember was the bok choy - I'm usually digging for the chicken in these kinds of dishes, but the bok choy was crisp and they had somehow brought out an indescribable and delicious flavor from it. I felt like I could have scarfed this dish down for hours, but the portion was so generous that I regrettably couldn't even finish - oh well, more for me later! My only regret is that I didn't take pictures, because looking at the food was almost as good as eating it. If you're ever in New Haven, do stop by the Ivy Noodle - after Pepe's, that is!

I'm About to Make You Really Hungry

If there's anything this travel course has taught me, it's that small-scale traveling is traveling too. I've been to a few new spots on campus this semester, from walking new paths to old destinations, to trying new food - the latter of which I'm going to write about now.

Before this semester I had never been to iSlice (International Slice Pizza), a popular pizza place at the top of campus. I'm picky about pizza; I grew up in New Haven and regularly eat at Pepe's. But I do have a soft spot for single-slice pizza. It's like pizza on the go, pizza in a perfectly not-too-filling meal, pizza that you won't overeat because it'll actually run out after one or two slices. The only excuse I have for not going before is that I didn't expect much from it - why waste my time with mediocre pizza when there's a perfectly good Mexican place around the corner?

I was promoted to a team leader at work for this semester, and every week the team leaders and our supervisor (5 of us in all) get lunch and talk about work. Going to iSlice seemed to be a time-honored tradition, and who was I to argue with that? I'd heard fantastic things about their garlic pizza, so I got a slice of that, and also a slice of "white," which looked like margherita with chunks of feta all over it.

It was what I would describe as a transcendent pizza experience - something I had only before experienced at Pepe's and a place in Brooklyn called Grimaldi's. It's when - whether it is you who is in the state to receive great pizza, or the pizza just being supremely delicious - the pizza you are eating is just perfect. This was my experience with the slice of white. Perfectly greasy, salty, warm, with thick tomatoes and even crisp and flavorful crust. I'm sure the garlic would have yielded a similar experience, had I eaten that slice first. As it was, I couldn't finish them both (they're big!) but they were both amazing.

The lesson here is to try new things despite your own expectations, and possibly that you can never go wrong with slice pizza :)

Christmas Lights

This week while I was at home, I took a drive around unfamiliar parts of my neighborhood to see some Christmas light displays at night. I live in the suburbs and am relatively close to the town center, so there are lots of directions I can choose. While I am generally familiar enough with the entire neighborhood not to get lost, there are tons of streets that I've never been down, and that's what I targeted tonight.

As I recall, the first Christmas lights I saw in my neighborhood appeared the day after Thanksgiving - meanwhile, we don't even have our tree up yet. As I slowly navigated my neighborhood's back roads at night, I marveled at just how many houses were lit up with Christmas spirit even in less populated areas. One of my favorite parts of Christmas is simply seeing the decorations everywhere - although I could do without being bombarded by holiday tunes.

Some houses were the basic white lights, which I appreciate, as I find too many rainbow-colored Christmas lights to be garish unless they're artfully arranged. I am a fan of the fake moving light-lined reindeer, which a few yards had. And still some had designs on the side of the house or the garage door, like a giant lit up Jewish star in one case. I spent a lot more time than I intended traveling around these unfamiliar streets and wondering about the people who lived in them. It reminded me of the love I have for taking walks in unfamiliar places - there are endless small, beautiful things you might see, even though it was night now and I could only really make out the lights. There was a sense of community and celebration I got from seeing so many decorated houses - not religious celebration (in my case) but a generally united feeling. This, more than anything else, truly got me into the "Christmas spirit" this year.

Traveling to Paradise

My college is hosting another trip to Belize over the winter, and as an attendee of last year's trip, it's got me thinking. I've been to Hawaii before, but I've never been to a foreign country before going to Belize, so it was a big thing for me. And in some ways, it was not the experience I'd hoped for - as great as some parts were, I myself was not in the right mind to travel, and I can remember just wishing to go home for the first week there. We were staying at a very nice resort, too, by Belizean standards, although by American standards the air conditioner was too loud and the room was too creaky and drafty - oh, and at some point a line of tiny ants came inconspicuously out of the wall to feast on some spilled water. In any case, it was nice, but I was not.

I'm not very adventurous in general; some people like being thrown into new and uncomfortable situations, but I don't. Even sleeping somewhere other than my own room hugely disrupts my sleep, and I was worried enough about the food. That wasn't so bad - just being in a new place made me more open to eating different things, but the only "Belizean cuisine" we had was what the hotels offered, which seemed to be more of a mix-and-match of different common foods I'm already used to. I have to say, this was comforting, I am possibly least adventurous when it comes to food. I think being cut off from my own life was what I couldn't handle during the first week; instead of appreciating where I was, I was preoccupied with staying connected to home, made difficult by the lack of phone service or reliable wi-fi.

And then, after week one, we drove through the well-known Hummingbird Highway on a misty morning on our way to the coast. Green mountains around us seemed to disappear right into the sky, and it felt at once confined and free. We were going to Dangriga, a colorful but pretty run-down looking town right beside the ocean. Despite that, the anxious mood that had been suppressing me for the preceding week lifted pretty instantly upon seeing the ocean. We got threw our luggage and our selves on a big water taxi and took off to a tiny island, where we'd stay at Pelican Beach Resort

The feeling I had was what I assume people travel for. I felt blissfully disconnected from my life - this island was isolated, tiny, and absolutely perfect. I didn't care about checking in with people back home, I only cared about walking the entire length of the island at sunset, swimming out into the gently sloping coast to spot fish I've only seen at aquariums before, hunting for the cutest possible hermit crab with my friend. I only cared about the great book I found sitting on the shelf at the resort, and leaving my own book there in place of it. I even went night snorkeling, something that sounds pretty terrifying to me - ocean and complete darkness? But I was so happy to be there, and so happy to do every little thing I did there. One of the most memorable parts was stargazing at the edge of the island with my friends - I've never seen so many stars, too many to take in at once, some big, small, colorful, blinking, covered by thin clouds.

I have a feeling it was seeing the ocean that opened me up to a real travel experience. The island was paradise, which may not be interesting to some more adventurous travelers, but what I remember was how it freed me.