The WT's Review of the Wide, Wide World of Beer: New Zealand

Tiger Beer, Asia Pacific Breweries
Where: Auckland and Day 10 of the West Coast hike
So the question that comes to mind is why have a mass produced Singaporean beer when one is out and about in captivating New Zealand? For one thing, it tasted pretty good cold. And in Auckland, it was what the bartendress recommended at a cool little live music/jazz bar off Kitchener street whose name escapes me at this point. On the widely accepted WT Skunkiness scale, with Heineken rating a 10, I would give Tiger a 7, maybe even an 8. Tiger has a hazy, golden color and it goes down rather smoothly, with just enough of a bitter aftertaste to let you know you've been drinking beer.

Monteiths Summer Ale, Monteiths Brewing Company
Where: Near Okarito
Monteiths was recommended by Andre, our guide, so we picked up 2 six packs, one of them being the Summer Ale, on one our supermarket jaunts (incidentally one of our compadres was not allowed to buy beer because she did not have her id with her and looked a little too young according to the cashier. There are advantages to looking like you have a porcupine glued to your face after a week of not shaving). We enjoyed this tasty summer concoction as we sat on the West Coast beach, eating our first and last fast-foodish type meal (don't ask). Monteiths Brewery is around 150 years old and is brewed in Greymouth, on the West Coast so I can at least say that I've tasted some authentic New Zealand brew. The Summer Ale was quite lively, spicy and sweet at the same time. It also had a cinnamony taste to it and went down very nicely with my authentic Kiwi cheeseburger and kumara fries.

Monteiths Golden Lager, Monteiths Brewing Company
Where: Near Okarito
This was the second choice of six packs we had on the beach (don't we sound like a bunch of drunks?). Unlike the other lagers I've described so far, Monteiths Golden Lager had a distinctly sweet taste and was not bitter at all. I daresay it had a hint of honey, although it was nowhere near as syrupy as the Monteiths Summer Ale. Overall, it was a servicable lager with a classic golden yellow color. I guess I prefer my lagers a little more on the bitter side.

Monteiths Celtic Red, Monteiths Brewing Company
Where: Camping near Mount Aspiring National Park
Very red. That's how I would describe Celtic Red. And how does it taste? Bitter but a little watered down in my opinion but I would rate it higher than Killian's Red. I will say I don't drink all too many reds - so it's a little tough to judge. It did have a a roasty flavor of sorts - I could swear there was a hint of coffee in there. It did go well with the fresh salmon we roasted over an open fire. If you're a fan of reds, give it a shot - otherwise, you can safely skip it.

Speight's Pale Ale, Lion Breweries
Where: Queenstown
This was the first beer I had at a bar after the end of the hike. It's an odd feeling to be back in the cradle of civilization. Toilets (why does that come up first?). Restaurants. And oodles and oodles of people. Way too many people - despite being gone only for 10 days, I felt needed a day or two of reintegration and Queenstown, as beautiful as it is, was not the right place for reunite with the urbane world. Anyhow, Speights helped in this regard. We went to a bar, played pool and had a couple of pints of Speight's- all in all it went down easily, wasn't very hoppy, exhibited a hazy golden color and tasted slightly fruity.

TUI - DB Breweries
Where: Queenstown
Ah - my last local beer in New Zealand. I've had my share of stinkers in my beer travels - I don't think anyone would rate me a beer snob based on this set of reviews. So I will say the best thing about the TUI was that it was free. In an attempt to lure the gals and myself into a questionable bar, we were handed free drink tickets. Upon barely slithering up the stairs in our exhausted state to the second storey bar, we immediately sat down and I ordered my free TUI. There was dance music in the old fashioned Euro-trash sense. Anyhow...what can I say - the beer fit the locale. It was amber colored, bitter without character and...harsh is probably the best word for it. So, more importantly for this review to be worth a damn - what is a Tui? It is a bird of New Zealand - considered to be very intelligent, similar to parrots. So there you go - you learned 2 things. Don't bother with TUI the beer and don't have a chess match with Tui, the bird. Off you go now.

The WT's Review of the Wide, Wide World of Beer: South Africa

Castle Lager, South Africa, SABMiller
Where: Kloof Street, Cape Town

Castle is the "king" of beers in South Africa. It is the Bud, the Miller, the Coors, all rolled into one - which is not necessarily a good thing (my overseas readers, pray you will be spared from drinking these watered down beers). So I had to try one. The scene was a hip bar, bustling with smartly dressed 20- somethings on Kloof Street in Cape Town. I will eagerly add that South Africa has the most beautiful assortment of women I have ever witnessed. Maybe it's because South Africa was both a home, an exile and a prison for people of so many backgrounds (African, Malay, Indian, European) and the intermixing of the cultures produced some stunningly appealing looking members of the opposite sex. Anyway, oh that's right - I'm supposed to be writing about beer, not women. So...Castle Beer..right. Well, Castle is a beer in the tradition of other mass marketed lagers. It exudes a clear, golden color, is fairly carbonated, slightly bitter and has a certain edge of skunkiness, for which Heineken is a poster child. In short, it's a good beer to drink cold, preferably on a hot day. Oh and visit Cape Town while you're at it.

Windhoek Lager, South Africa, Namibian Breweries
Where: Buchu Bush Camp
I had the pleasure of trying Windhoek at the Buchu Bush Camp, near Cape Agulhas, the southernmost tip of Africa, right by the De Hoop Nature Preserve. I highly recommend the Buchu Bush Camp and the surrounding area - it was quite a find by Britton. The cabins we stayed in ran completely off wind power. And although we were frequently warned about scorpions and snakes and told to stay on the elevated, slated, wooden paths which led to each log cabin, it was nevertheless a lot of fun (that and being asked to keep my mouth shut about anything insect related as we went to bed). Anyway, the owner of the camp was an ex-SAA (that's South African Airways) executive chef and he made dinner for all the guests. It was tasty yet slightly compartmentalized, consisting of chicken and veggies and a salad, each in their own partitions - actually, it sounds just like an airline meal now that I reflect. He was quite high on Windhoek and I downed a couple to go with my meal. Apparently it is becoming the choice of South Africans, who want to branch out from Castle. Frankly, I didn't taste a huge difference between them. I think Windhoek is a somewhat better lager than Castle - but it has the same mass-produced slightly bitter (less so than Castle IMO), carbonated lager taste. Its color was a little less golden - I would classify it as pale. In short, not a bad choice on a warm evening, as long as it is cold. BTW Namibian Breweries brews all their beers according to the Reinheitsgebot, for any of you beer snobs out there.

Beers of the World Reviews...coming soon

Holding extensive meetings with my experienced and world-renowned editorial staff, we're almost done touching up my beers of the world story from my trip earlier this year...Stay tuned....have a beer in the meantime....

Another year...or was it much more than that?

Was it the best birthday ever? That's the question that fluttered around my, by then blown away, mind as the seconds ticked (digital watches don't really tick, do they?) towards midnight on April 13th. I reflected on birthdays past and came up with the (what else?) top 5 memorable birthdays in the WT's life.

Age 6 - the first birthday I can really remember. We're living in smog filled, gray Ankara (now the cleanest city in Turkey - and remember for your Who Wants to be a Millionaire appearance: it is the capital of Turkey - not Istanbul) and daily brownouts, gunfire, bombs exploding in the distance and doing homework by a kerosene lamp are the regular fixtures of my life. Turkey's in anarchy and inching towards what military insiders call a revolution for democracy and everyone else aptly names "The 1980 Coup" - the third one in 30 years. Sylvester Stallone later uses the same technique but a faster frequency to release multiple needed and unneeded sequels to the Rocky franchise. My baby sister is a twinkle in my mom's eye. Friends from kindergarden and the dreary Soviet style concrete apartment block we live in congegrate in our small yet functional 3 bedroom apartment. My grandmother and aunt are there. My cheeks are full of aunt-kisses - the technical term for someone leaving huge lipstick marks whereever they smooched. There is chocolate cake and the bully who beat me up just a couple of weeks ago. I am introduced to the concept that one receives gifts from people one barely knows for their birthday. Greed is awakened.

Age 10 - now living in opulent, cosmopolitan and for-women-utterly-constricting Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. My bewonderment about the fact that images on TV can exhibit color, although waning, is still in force. I have discovered Lego and most of my free time is spent constructing fantastical space stations and ships featuring tiny yellow men out of my 750 piece Lego Space Set. The birthday is a microcasm of my school experience in Saudi Arabia - there are at least 20 countries represented in our maroon carpeted, airy apartment. From Gambia to Senegal, to Australia, to the US, to Greece and beyond - kids being kids.We feverishly gallop about while my mom tries to keep a semblance of order, juggling food, kids and dad as she always has. Saudi Arabia is about excess - religion, passion and, to my delight at the time, consumerism. What did Marks (of Marks and Spencer fame) say? Malls are the opium of the masses. Actually I made that up. In any event, the gift-haul is stupendous and, of course, totally unnecessary. I don't know it at the time but the gift of the evening turns out to be a cheap board game featuring a pop-up clear plastic dome in the middle with dice in it. The game is called Trouble - this marks the beginning of a fierce rivalry between my sister and I. Through trickery (trickeration? strategery?) and conniving, I hold an insurmountable lead in the overall series at 100-31-3 (the last number reflecting the number of times that one of us has walked away in complete anger at the other, resulting in an abandoned game).

Age 17 - I am now in Munich, Germany, living at the CVJM (Christlicher Verein Junger Menschen - that's the Y yo). It's a men's only dorm and the highlight of my room is a shaggy green carpet and the printing press I can see across in the other building. The room is located on the third floor of a drab 70s apartment building, only a mile from the Olympic Stadium. The floor is dominated by an odd mix of Mechanical Engineering and Theology students. Arguments break out frequently over the physics requirements of miracles. Much muesli is eaten and compost piles are de rigueur. My boombox is dialed into Bayern 3 with its hokey mix of contemporary and 60s hits. The weather is unseasonably cool. I haven't seen my parents for 9 months and I'm lonely. I hate not being able to articulate exactly the way I feel, although my spoken and written German is good enough to gain college admission. My birthday is a solitary affair, culminating in a game of pool with a couple of other Turks and a lot of beer. I stumble home well before midnight and climb in bed and contemplate with a twisted sobriety that when I wake up, this day will be over.


Age 21 - I can finally buy alcohol again. Legally. I arrive in Austin, Texas in January with a liver which is in admittedly bad shape after 2.5 years in the land of beer (and chocolate), I am stupified to learn that I cannot devour any liquid bread until 4 months after my arrival. I live in the dorms, work on building a spare tire by eating Pizza Classics $4.99 medium pizza as often as possible. On this night, I break my vow against tequila shots. I love this weird, diverse, can-do, confidently-aggressive, all-accepting country which I've just arrived in. Austin feels alive - maybe it's the heat (not the humidity). I'm with a limited set of people but I drink - to excess - my paper on John Stuart Mill is due in a couple of days. His hieararchy of pleasures ensures I at least think about whether I should take the night off. I've just reearned my liberty - I don't drink hard again for some time (OK - a couple of months). I receive a phone call, CD and postcard from my parents - this becomes the classic gift from the fam going forward. Slowly I care most and look forward to the phone call - it makes my day.


Age 33 - well - this was just yesterday. And it makes the memorable list. Why? Because of Seda, Beth, Dave, Oscar, Beth, Pam, Jason, Lola, Sofia, Manuel, Eddy, Emory, Elias, Tina, Chris, John, Jim, Brian were there. The story: my sister organizes a surprise party which apparently was on, then off, then on, but somewhere else. This all takes place behind my back via a huge number of e-mails. Somehow, via a true comedy of errors, which features missed flights, fallen trees which cut off land lines, and umpteen changes of plan, in the true of spirit of Stoppard's Shakeseare in Love ("The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. It's a mystery. ") it all spiffily climaxes with everyone making it on time to the happy hour while unsuspecting me slowly downs a Modelo. I stand flabbergasted at the San Jose Hotel on South Congress as my sister makes an entrance with Beth and the birthday cake. My sister is supposed to be in LA? I just spoke with her a couple of hours ago. My jaw drops and I break into an oafish grin which is tatooed to my face until this morning. What started off last midnight in an almost full moon and drinks at the Draught Horse, included a serenade in a boxing gym over a crackly speaker, concludes with a night with good friends, family, camaraderie.

'Twas truly a day to remember - this past year has certainly had its downs but family and a true group of friends helped guide me through most of the stormy waters. As we say in Turkish: teşekkürler y'all.

The Wandering Vampire Slayer..and other food stories

Upon a friend's recommendation (thanks Julia!), my first foodie stop was The Stinking Rose where their tagline is that they spice up their garlic with food. I got the vegetarian lasagna, which included eggplant (I love eggplant - do not trust a Turk who does not like eggplant). Not only did it deliver the promised garlic nirvana, I subsequently enjoyed a 20 foot perimeter of personal space as I wandered the North Beach area. Buffy - eat your heart out.

Other food stories from the weekend included Dim Sum at Yank Sing (which was recommended by several people - so thank you - and special thanks to David and Kathy for driving me around) and Tiramisu at the Steps of Rome (also recommended by several different people - be sure to take some cash with you - no plastic accepted...). Photos? Say no more....

Enough of the allium sativum to drive most vampires away

Drool....

Sushi - sailing away....

Pre food-coma pic....

Side note...only in America

I was having dinner at the bar at Vignette, when an order came in for an espresso. It was to be a decaf espresso. I locked eyes with the bartender at this point and he just shrugged. He said the best orders are those that ask for double decaf espresso. Geez - if you're going to go to the trouble of ordering an espresso, at least make it a real one....Live a little people! I wonder when we're going to export this notion of decaf everything to the world...It'll happen - just you wait.

Ayaklarima karasular indi!

That would be something to scale....

I thought that post title might catch your attention. It literally means, "I have black water in my legs", which really means, I walked around for an insane amount of time today and yesterday and my feet (and calves and thighs and hips etc.) are killing me. It's funny, how living in even the most compact city in Texas, how little walking one does.

San Francisco is quickly climbing up the charts to become my favorite city in the US. I love the fact that one can walk pretty much anywhere. I love the fact that public transportation actually gets you to where you need to go. I love all the different cultures, harmoniously intermingling. I love the food (although my scale in Austin may be shuddering). I love the incredible variety and the freshness of the seafood that only port towns seem to offer. I love the rollercoaster walks that let one clamber up a 45 degree ascent before letting slumbering down a 30 degree descent. (preferably not after dinner though). I love the architecture - it's the only place I've been to west of Austin in the US which conveys a sense of history. I love that I can art-hop and spend an entire afternoon visiting one gallery after another. I love that Saints Peter and Paul Church has a street number of 666 (how many questions must they get on that?). I even, so far at least, love the chilly, windy air with its brief but adamant outbursts of sunshine.

Anyway, let me get a little more matter-of-factly on your collective behinds, since the incoherent musings of a man falling in love with a city, aren't necessarily that high on anyone's reading list...

The King George - famous quotes included

Saturday commenced with a check-in at the Orchard Hotel - a boutique hotel located on Bush Street. It's a nice hotel, with a great gourmet restaurant but I would deem it a little on the expensive side for a weekend getaway - check out the King George, which is where I stayed on Sunday (with a coupon declaring myself a member of the British American Business Council - a budding career move old chap), if you're looking for blingless chic. The King George also features a famous quote from someone of British origin in every room. My room featured a Churchill quote: "A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty". Methinks, Churchill would've been a great consultant.

Once checked in I heard an obnoxious groan. I looked around and then realized it was my stomach, informing me that while the 2 hour time zone switch did not present much of a challenge for my phone or watch, it was not going to wait until noon PST to get satiated. So off I took to North Beach for some hearty Italian...

San Francisco!

After asking 782 people (OK - it was only 3-4) what exactly to do in San Francisco, here I am. And I got some excellent replies - surprisingly all very similar, which means that there are either only around 12 things to do, or everyone I've asked has read the exact same Frommer's Guide to San Francisco and verbatim thrown it up (out?) back on me... I keed...I keed. I actually got a very good variety of ideas - thank you all who gave me suggestions - you will see that I even followed some of them.

The toughest part of the trip thus far was getting up at 4:30am on Saturday, after going to bed around 1am on the same day. I have been averaging around 3 hours of sleep for the past 3 days, admittedly, entirely due to my own choices. So it was with some raw emotion (shall I call it anger? I shall.) that I executed a jab-upper cut-hook combination on my shellshocked alarm clock. Despite hurrying, I barely made it on the plane - for the first time hearing my name called out over the Austin Bergstrom loudspeakers: "Mr. Unshaven Terrorist Like Looking Guy, please hurry on to Gate 4!".

The flight was relatively harmless - I spoke to a girl next to me who was going to a hair show in Seattle to sell curling irons. Fascinating stuff...I started to feel giddy as the connecting flight left the gate at Denver - I have this feeling of unsuppressable excitement when I fly for pleasure. Not to sound like a "gosh-darn-cliche", there's something invariably bubbly about discovering a city for the first time - it's like a book you know has gotten excellent reviews and like a book, it has nooks and crannies that are unique and embedded in different places for everyone who has visited it. I hope to read my own San Francisco story over the next couple of days...