Mak turned 60 on May 12th.
And due to a call from Rika-san the previous day, hubby was free from teaching obligations that day. He initially thought of treating Mak and I for a birthday dinner, but since he was free for the day, he made a change of plan…
So he led us to a day out in the park – at Shinjuku Gyoen.
Hubby had a blast taking photos here and there – and it so happened that our visit coincided with the opening day of LOHAS Design Award 2007.
Mak had a back ache – from all the running in her attempts to catch up with Huzaifah.
I had a lot of quiet moment with Humaidi, sitting under the roofed arbor, munching on castellas, wishing hubby would hurry up so that we could go back early and Mak could pray Asar at home as per her request before we left home. Oh, and I met one obaasan who also happened to live in Asakusa but went for a walk in Shinjuku Gyoen. She asked me to try out Hibiya Koen on another day, since it's also a splendid garden, or so according to her.
If anyone would like to visit Shinjuku Gyoen, I would suggest doing so during Sakura season for hanami, or in autumn for momiji. It’s pretty ordinary during late spring/summer - lots of greens and nothing much else, except for some varieties of roses in the French formal garden area.
Despite Mak’s pleas to go back early, hubby insisted on visiting the Greenhouse, which we did. I’m quite relieved we did so though because only after visiting it we realized that the huge Greenhouse would be closed for renovation beginning May 14th and only would be reopened in 2011. (Most of the plants found there could be seen in Malaysia, but we seldom get to enter a greenhouse though...)
We left the park at almost 3.00 p.m, by which time the adults were all hit with the 3 Ls – Lapar, Lenguh and Letih. Huzaifah was already dozing off in his stroller, while Humaidi was sleeping rather peacefully in my arms.
Hubby called Brother Harun, who acts as chef at his own restaurant, Taj Mahal in Matsudo, in advance to let him know that we would be coming – a lot early for dinner, but a little late for lunch. Brother Harun is a regular attendee for Jumuah prayer at Asakusa mosque. I had been to Taj Mahal once before and was treated to a nice supper. On that occasion, Huzaifah even broke a glass, but Brother Harun refused to accept any payment for neither the meal nor the broken glass. We said that we would like to visit his restaurant another time, but he must accept our payment the next time.
Right after we exited the train at Akasaka Mitsuke station, to change from Marunouchi to Ginza line, hubby exclaimed that he had forgotten his knapsack on the overhead rack in the train. I rushed to the station’s Lost and Found office, quickly reported our loss, hoping that we would be able to retrieve it as soon as possible.
After getting some details from me – the color of the knapsack, the brand, the content, which coach we were in, which side of the coach – the person in charge called Ochanomizu station, asking the person there to look out for it. The efficiency of Japanese customer service was proven yet again, for it was less than 10 minutes before I overheard the call confirming that the bag was found in Ochanomizu. I was then advised to go to there since the person in charge was waiting for me to come and claim my bag.
So, instead of going to Ueno to catch another train to Matsudo, we had to detour to Ochanomizu first. Not long after we entered the train, Humaidi woke up and demanded to be fed. Since both his feeding bottles were in the temporarily missing bag, I had to ask hubby to act as a shield as I tried my best to sorok-sorok breastfeeding my hungry baby. Lucky for me, when they are on board a train, most Japanese tend to be either very occupied with their handphone/reading materials or asleep, and those who are neither tend to be rather zombie like, staring ahead until they reach their station without turning around much. Thus I did not receive any lecherous grins or improper attention at that time.
Huzaifah too woke up just as we were about to exit the train in Ochanomizu, and badly needed a diaper change as his pants were already wet. So, while hubby gave him a change of clothes, I quickly went to claim the lost bag, leaving Mak with hubby and kids. After confirming that the found bag was mine, the content intact and filled in some form, I joined my family, just in time to board the train heading back the way we came from. Since we were in Ochanomizu, we decided to change to Hibiya line at Ginza. Instead of stopping at Ueno, we exited at Kita Senju and boarded a Joban train there to Matsudo.
It turned out that Brother Harun had prepared special dishes for us when we reached there. Mak and I had been looking forward to having nan and tandoori, but what we were served was that and so much more.
For appetizer, we were served gado-gado and tomato sauce spring rolls.
For main course, we were served seafood nasi goreng, sambal udang, vegetables fried with minced beef, Bengal-style fried fish, tandoori chicken, dhal curry with white rice and nan.
We had yummy yoghurt topped with real strawberry, kiwi and banana slices for dessert before finally we were served chai.
Ok, for the record, I didn’t eat the sambal udang, nor any of the ‘angin’ veggies, but I just couldn’t resist the chai. Besides, I figured since it was brewed with “warm spices” - cinnamon, ginger and cloves - surely it couldn’t be bad for a mother in confinement period. Ehcheh... Honestly, since my first sip of the distinct chai there months ago, I was simply hooked, and I have always been a teh tarik lover anyway…
The meal was lovely – and really felt special as exquisite dishes were served one after another. Mak asked hubby if he had ordered in advance, to which he admitted that no, he did not order anything in advance, that it was all to Brother Harun’s credit. We felt like we could not thank him enough; he even went the extra mile to prepare ‘nusantara’ dishes which were never listed in his Indian restaurant’s menu.
When we finished the meal, hubby went to the cash register but Brother Harun adamantly refused to receive any payment. He insisted on it being his gift – for Mak’s birthday as well as a belated congratulatory dinner for me on Humaidi’s birth. (He even asked me to bring Mak there again before she returns to Malaysia, for yet another treat.)
So that's the story of the day when Mak turned 60…
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