Ethnic Iced Dessert Quest - Part 7: Break On Through To The Nam Kang Sai!

As you may or may not know, it's pretty freaking hot this weekend! Which inspired The Militant to re-visit his Ethnic Iced Dessert Quest series he did Back In The Day.

If you're a longtime reader of The Militant, you know what's up. The Militant went on a quest around Los Angeles to find some cool, refreshing ethnic desserts based on ice. He took you from South Korea (Bingsu) to Singapore (Ice Kachang) to Taiwan (Chhoah-Peng) to Japan (Kakigori) to Indonesia (Es Kampur) to Mexico (Raspados) -- and he didn't even have to leave town!

Nearly five years later, The Militant picks up where he left off. Unfinished business! This time, he took the Red Line to Thai Town and became a Thai-Iced (Militan)-T!

He found himself at Bhan Kanom Thai (or "BKT" as the locals call it) sweets shop on Hollywood Blvd, where they made him a Nam Kang Sai - a Thai shaved iced dessert consisting of your four choices of jellied Southeast Asian fruits, a mound of shaved ice, some colored sweet syrup, and a glazing of condensed milk. It might have been the heat outside, but it was pretty awesome!

The syrup flavors were more subtle, and not the diabetic shock, HFCS-laden stuff you'd find at a Sno-Cone stand. The red color smelled of jasmine.

It was placed in a large cup, the same size you see at your favorite Fro-Yo joint. The Militant was ready to pay like $5-$6 for this cup of sweet frozen joy. Until he heard the price.

$3.

THREE BUCKS?!?!? Like WOW! That's pretty freaking awesome! You can't beat that anywhere!

Not only that, but the place is open 'til 1 a.m. every day! And it's just like two blocks from the Hollywood/Western (M) Red Line station!

So on a hot day like today (or tomorrow even), cool off, Militant Style with some Nam Kang Sai or any of the wonderful ethnic iced dessert treats around town!

Happy 4th!

The Militant plans to spend his July 4th in the neighborhood of his Compound, attending an operative's backyard BBQ, where there will no doubt be some undocumented pyrotechnic displays lighting up the neighborhood's skies. If you're relatively new to the Militant Angeleno, check out one of his favorite Fourth of July stories here (originally blogged back in 2007). Happy Independence Day, Angelenos!

The Streets Are Not That Alive With The Sound Of Music: Make Music Pasadena Festival 2009

The Militant headed over on Sunday to the exotic land known as Pasadena as the city hosted an event called "Make Music Pasadena," a one-day music festival that made its debut last year (which the Militant regrettably missed). The festival is the local component of an event called Fete de la Musique, which started in Paris, France in 1982 on the day of the Summer solstice. The event is now held in over 300 cities worldwide.

The whole premise of Fete de la Musique is to celebrate and encourage music in a daylong event, with organized stage performance venues and impromptu sidewalk performances, all of which for free. Sounds pretty militant to this Militant's ears! So yours truly brought along Militant Operative Stingray, an operative who knows a thing or two about music, to help guide him.

After they disembarked from their Gold Line train, they walked up just yards from the station to Pasadena's Levitt Pavilion to check out a performance by Chase Allen in the Hollywood Bowl-esque bandshell. Fete or no Fete, the bandshell hosts regular performances during the summer. So far, so good, but something seemed to be missing here - some sort of, oh...je ne sais quoi.

We then headed over to the next venue, the Pasadena Central Library, a few blocks away on Walnut Street, to catch some more performances. Unfortunately, the library remained like a library normally behaved: very quiet. In fact, there was no stage nor sound equipment anywhere to be seen!

They did see some action down Garfield, which, after reaching it, turned out to be the Pasadena Chalk Festival, a totally separate event, which had a music stage of its own, but was not an integrated part of Make Music Pasadena.

Another MMP venue was found at One Colorado a few blocks to the west, tucked away in a courtyard adjacent to the movie theatres, with the dark downtempo vibe of Eliza Rickman performing.

Around the corner, we stumbled upon a MMP sign on the sidewalk and to our right was an alleyway decently crowded with folks. Another venue! This time it was the Lycee International Los Angeles elementary school band (pictured left), with little tykes playing the jazz standard "Fever," some of which sounded pretty advanced for their age! Not only that, but the alleyway, part of the Alliance Francaise center, captured more of the Fete de la Musique spirit the Militant was looking for.

Hunting around for the next venue, we found the Armory Center For The Arts, with the sounds from the Levitt Pavilion echoing in the distance. The art center hosted an indoor venue, where the Militant caught the bluegrass trio The Black Sheep (not to be confused with these guys, lol) do their thing in front of a graffiti-inspired mural (pictured right).

After finding the next venue. the Cote d'Azur spa, almost by accident (it was mis-labeled on the map to be next door to the Armory Center), where yet another parallel event was found, this time Pasadena's LiveH20 festival, which wasn't mentioned in the MMP literature but this seemed to be the venue. Needless to say, there was no music playing here, just some woman making some new-agey chants, though a few people holding guitars were found.

We did not stay long.

A couple venues, such as Old Town's Twin Palms, Redwhite+bluezz and POP Champagne and Dessert bar, did not have any performances during the Militant's and the operative's visit, so those had to be skipped.

The last venue before we hopped back on the Gold Line was Mercantile Alley, next to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, where singer/pianist Theresa Flaminio was performing, out in the sun, next to a parking structure (pictured left). Guess this went more in line with the Fete spirit, which was the great thing about it, but there was something odd about the location nonetheless, with passers-by constantly walking in between the performer and the latte-sipping audience.

So Make Music Pasadena seemed to be, despite its wonderful intentions, somewhat of a dud, though after a little Militant research, it sounded like the economy was more to blame,
along with the day being Father's Day, as well as the adjacent Chalk Festival down the street (which, admittedly, seemed to have more energy to it). Still, for an event whose energy traditionally relied on the grassrootsiness of spontaneous human participation rather than organized performance venues, the Militant saw very little of it.

The Militant and the operative did spot one or two street performers, but they were probably going to be there, MMP or no MMP. And from the sound of one trumpeter situated across the street from the One Colorado entrance, listening to him struggle painfully getting a sound out of his horn didn't sound very festive at all.

Militant Operative Stingray was keenly intent on attending MMP this year to do some research on a little project he would like to pursue, which may or may not entail organizing his own Fete de la Musique event in an unspecified part of Southern California. From what he's divulged to the Militant, it sounds like he's got a plan, and the Militant wishes him the best of luck. Showing initiative - now that's music to the Militant's ears.

The Militant Goes To The Valley

The Militant paid a visit to the San Fernando Valley for the first time since inaugurating this here blog. Yes, the Militant drove his car this time, because one of the purposes had something to with routine auto maintenance in North Hills (kind of hard to do if you didn't bring your car), and also the transport of unspecified Militant cargo to a destination in the foothills of Encino later that evening. But all was consistent with the Militant's "Car-Lite" rules; the trip was over 10 miles from home, so it warranted auto travel. Besides, the entire trip was still conscious of saving gas and mileage as the Militant, having had the Encino destination on his calendar for over a month, purposely scheduled the North Hills appointment on the same day to avoid taking multiple trips to The Valley, thus accomplishing the goal of saving gas, mileage and money.

Though many have ridiculed or disdained The Valley as some suburban wasteland, the Militant has an admitted sentimental fondness to it, for personal reasons. Though the Militant has never lived in the 818, and has never planned on living there, given a choice between The Valley, the SGV, The IE or the Antelope Valley, The Militant would choose the 818 in a heartbeat. Say what you will about The Valley, it still has way more flavor than the Inland Empire will ever have. The Militant would even rather live in The Valley than in the Westside...(At least The Valley has mass transit...).

On this July Wednesday, the temperature in the 91343 zip code area was a scorching 95 degrees. The Militant, while waiting for his car maintenance, and stuck at a waiting room without a complete newspaper nor a notebook to write on, decided to take a walk outside. So he left the air-conditioned confines of the unspecified auto dealership waiting room and crossed Sepulveda Blvd, walking past the cars stopped at the intersection with their air conditioner systems buzzing and whirring loudly. The Militant wanted to do what the Militant usually does when he takes a walk to an unfamiliar place: mapping. The Militant's stroll through The Community Formerly Known As Sepulveda yielded a taco joint here, a Mexican mariscos restaurant there, an old-school minimall, a new-school minimall, a Panda Express with a drive-thru, another minimall. After barely a block, the Militant decided it was too damn hot to walk any further...and headed back. Crossing Sepulveda again, a large Coca-Cola billboard loomed not too far up the street. Aimed to those who habla español, the billboard read, "¿Tienes Sed?" (Are you thirsty?), and the little voice in the Militant's head (the same one that told him to start this here blog) said, "Si!"

But The Militant realized something during his two-block walk: Compared to the sidewalks on The Other Side Of The Hill, they're wider, cleaner and in much better condition...yet no one walks in The Valley (save for Downtown Burbank, NoHo Arts District, Toluca Lake, Ventura Blvd in ShOaks and that little stretch of Reseda by Cal State Northridge). Perhaps The Valley should just give the sidewalks in the remainder of the area to Hollywood, Silver_Lake, Koreatown, Echo Park or The Real Eastside. I mean, it's not like the rest of the Valley folks really use 'em.

But 'tis true, The Valley is sprawling, where after the car maintenance, The Militant made an attempt to visit one of his operatives who works at a store on Reseda, south of Nordhoff. But the store was hard to locate for some reason (the pressure of traffic made it hard to slow down) and the mission was aborted, so the Militant headed straight to his Encino destination. That whole trek was 14 miles -- roughly the same distance from Downtown Los Angeles to Santa Monica Beach! The Valley (345 square miles) can easily fit the entire nation of Singapore (292 square miles) with room to spare.

But The Militant will visit The Valley again before the summer ends - If biking by the beach during the day is his #1 summertime joy, then biking at night in The Valley is #2. The weather is perfect, the streets are nice and wide, there's no traffic. The Valley really feels like a different place when you explore it like that. The Militant also longs for those nights when the Santa Anas make the palm trees of The Valley sway crazily, causing their fronds to bristle against each other hard enough that it makes a soothing sound not unlike that of the surf.

Like, fer sure.

The Bike Path To Summer

Although Memorial Day weekend was over a month ago, and the Summer Solstice came and went last week, for this Militant, it's not Summer until I visit the beach. Having some work responsibilities wrapped up by early afternoon, I found a unique window of opportunity to hit the coast on Thursday.

Since 1993, I've inaugurated the arrival of Summer with a ride down the 22-mile South Bay Bike Path.

Despite the beach being outside my driving ban territory, I still decided to save some gas anyway by taking advantage of Metro's new Rapid Line 704, which supposedly gets me to Santa Monica in an hour. To my dismay, the bus wasn't on time (or maybe I missed the last one?) and it wasn't a fancy red-colored bus, but rather a regular poppy-orange Metro Local with a "704 Santa Monica" headsign. Nevertheless, the bike went on the front rack, the iPod went in my ears, and I was on my way.

It did take about an hour to reach the beach, not bad. I disembarked at Colorado and started pedaling, passing the throngs of digital camera-snapping summer tourists outside iconic Santa Monica Pier sign, crossing the curiously-named Moomat Ahiko Way -- which is native American Chumash for "Breath of the Ocean" and not after some Arab-Japanese fellow as I had previously thought. Within a few minutes, I was finally on The Path.

My destination, the end of the path at Torrance County Beach was a virtually-unseen point in the distance, past the slight haze created by coastal moisture. Riding on the path during the summer is a unique experience; the sum beats down on your back and arms yet your face is cooled by the moist sea air, rewarded frequently by the delicate coastal breezes. The experience is just not the same during the winter, where it's considerably colder, and the flat, spanning aesthetic of the beach is dramatically altered by storm berms bulldozed in the sand. Yes, I can always come here in the winter, but I don't like to.

Having breezed past the Venice Boardwalk on my summer bike rides on The Path, I decided to play "tourist" and simply walk my bike along the Boardwalk (a misnomer since it's simply pavement). It was my first time on the actual Boardwalk since helping a friend visiting from Philadelphia realize her dream of rollerblading in Venice Beach a decade ago (for my newbie rollerblading ass though, it was a muscle-aching nightmare). Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be a tourist. If all I saw of Angelenos were stoned-out smelly dudes strumming guitars while selling ersatz paintings or hawking henna designs, I might not like this town all that much. Although I must report that I spotted the Silver Lake Walking Dude of all people, in all his sunburned glory, here on the Venice Boardwalk, well outside his home environs.

After Venice Beach, I got back on the bike and rode through the "street" segment of The Path, crossing one of Abbot Kinney's few surviving canals and navigating the perimeter of Marina Del Rey, finally reaching a dedicated bike path again where it junctions with the Ballona Creek Path. I think I'll shut up for now and let the pictures speak for themselves:

Gigantic crane birds (center) hang out in the Ballona Wetlands --

the last piece of land untouched since the native Tongva tribe roamed the area.

The Del Rey Lagoon, just south of Ballona Creek,
is the last vestige of a large span of marshland
that would eventually be dredged to create The Marina.

Looking back north, The El Segundo Power Plant hums and churns
while surfers ride the waves just yards away.

The surfer's monument at Hermosa Beach Pier.

The path ends here, next to the fortress-like cliffs of the Palos Verdes Peninsula.

Looking back, to think I came all this way.
Santa Monica can hardly be seen in the distance.

The sand, the surf, the foam, the kelp, the easy feeling of a
summer evening in Southern California.

When the sun sets over the Pacific...

My Summer initiation ritual is not complete without baptizing myself in the waters of the Pacific (okay, just a knee-deep wade would suffice this time), reminding me that I've completed my journey, and forming a connection to my ancestors who have similarly waded the other side. As the sun set, some music provided by the iPod orchestra completed the mood, of a day finishing off its business in this part of the world.

Now time for the journey back.

With night approaching, the environment suddenly changes, and it's not necessarily for the worse. The moist sea air embraced me like an invisible blanket, keeping me relatively warm as I speed through the cold of night. Pier lights served as decorative strings jutting out into the dark, unknown expanse of the ocean. As I raced back towards Santa Monica and the receding layer of remaining post-dusk sunlight fades into bands of orange and purple, the bonfires of Doheny State Beach formed seemed to form their own runway perpendicular to the paths of jet planes roaring above.

Come 9 p.m., in the dark, unlit expanses of Playa Del Rey, I felt like a western Pioneer navigating towards unknown territory, with only a small bike light guiding my way. Daunting, yes, but really very exciting. The full moon also provided quite a sight with its light reflecting on the waters of Ballona Creek (photo right).

But once I reached Santa Monica, the quiet solace of the beach at night ended suddenly, with the lights of the Pacific Park blaring on the Pier and throngs of people walking around both on the Path and on the sand. The energy of this beach continued as if the sun had never set. A free valet service was set up to accommodate people's bikes next to the path, and the lot was mostly full.

Navigating the Santa Monica streets by the 3rd Street Promenade, I had long left the dark, silent solitude of the beach at night and was back in the city again, waiting for the 4 bus to take my bike and my tired Militant self back home.

Yes. Summer is finally here.

When Ya Gotta Go, Go Metro!

Looks like the automatic pay toilets have hit my hood. A brand new Metro Latrine is being installed at the Metro Rail Vermont/Santa Monica station. About time, I say. Maybe the Metro Bus stop across the street won't reek of urine anymore. A week ago, the news racks were removed from the site, a rectangular hole dug out of the pavement and a large concrete base installed. When a water main was spotted protruding from the base, I knew it was Potty Time. The toilet, an off-the-shelf model by international street advertising company JCDecaux is identical to ones seen in Downtown, as well as in Frisco, Chicago and Paris.
A closer look at the pay toilet gave way to a definite nod to Los Angeles' rich diversity. Instructions on how to use the toilets are also given in German and French (pictured left), because, we all know that Los Angeles is famous for its large Deutsch- and Français- speaking immigrant communities. Oh well, it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or nationality you are. You might be an American outside the toilet, but inside... You're-A-Peein.'