An imperial family dream

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It’s almost as though since my college friend came to visit that all these vivid dreams have started. I know I dream every night, but in the last several months, it’s been harder to remember them once I’ve woken up. Last night, I dreamt I was part of an imperial family. I was in a huge banquet hall with a lot of other people, who I presume were my family members. We were all dressed in elaborate gowns and suits. I had an elaborate and large hairdo with endless pins in my hair. The only person I recognized was my mom, who was seated at the head of the table. She was discussing in an “I am very important” tone of voice my betrothal to someone I was not particularly fond of. As soon as she mentioned this man, I felt a bit of disgust and a bit of annoyance. But I said nothing. I suppose that was just my future that someone else would be determining for me, I thought to myself. I simply sat there and stared, mindlessly eating the food that I was served by a fleet of servants. As I got up from the table, one of the servants caught my eye, and I could see his eyes glimmering. I turned the corner, and he discreetly followed me and tried to brush his hand over mine. I was confused and looked up at him, and his face came right up to mine. We were so close that I realized he had a hard-on and was trying to show it to me. I felt even more confused and at that point flustered, so I pushed him away and quickened my walk away from the banquet hall and all those people, including him.

So what – in my dream, I’m a part of a wealthy imperial family where the servant tries to make a pass at me? What is that about, anyway?

No Stupid Questions Podcast: When do you become an adult?

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In the last year or so, I’ve gotten into the No Stupid Questions podcast, which is a spinoff of the very popular Freakonomics books series. Research psychologist Angela Lee Duckworth and tech and sports executive Mike Maughan ask a lot of questions, some that can, at a glance, appear to be “stupid,” and so they ask each other these questions and delve into them. Many of the questions are suggested by their listeners.

The latest one I listened to that made me think was on “When do you become an adult?” and how it’s been fairly arbitrary that 18 has been the designated “adult” age. Why shouldn’t people ages 16 and above be able to vote? Why can you legally drive at age 16, vote at age 18, but then you cannot drink alcohol until age 21 in the U.S.? They go through all these questions and the historical reasons behind them in this episode.

One of the things that really made think was what Duckworth called the “life history theory,” which says that these things that you think are just fixed, or are on some cellular clock, they are actually profoundly influenced by experience. There’s an evolutionary reason behind it: if you sense that you are in some chaotic, uncertain, and/or dangerous environment, you had better get to adulthood fast. “Get to adulthood, reproduce, and get the hell out of there! You don’t have a lot of time!” Duckworth says. Life history theory says: what if you have the sense that you are in a stable, rich environment where you will live years and years? Then you have an incentive to forestall puberty and whatever line you want to give yourself for adult roles. This theory says you can procrastinate on adulthood if you live in a secure world because then, you have time to learn from your parents, get more educated from your peers and develop skills.

This made me think about two individuals I know. One is a former colleague from my last company who was essentially the biggest child I’d ever known who was my age. Let’s call this person Amber. Amber came from a wealthy, prominent Bay Area family with all the resources and support you could ever ask for. Yet somehow, when she started working at my last company, Amber came across as the most needy and insecure 30-something-year-old adult I’d ever met. She was constantly trying to make friends with everyone and get everyone to like her. It was really confusing to me, and I kept my distance from her. But eventually, I found out that she seemed jealous of the role I played in the office. I was effectively the culture queen in the office and organized happy hours and gatherings, and she did not like it since she wanted that role. She tried to get people to call her the “office mom,” as ridiculous as that sounds. Since Amber was the first and only recruiter in our office, she was the land line to HR in our San Francisco headquarters, and she kept tabs on and falsely reported goings-on and “moods” in the office. I will forever and always remember this stupid incident that happened: She had the balls to report me to HR for not wishing her a public happy birthday message on our team Slack channel. Amber knew I had an office birthday list, and when I happened to forget to ask her when her birthday was, she got upset and actually reported me! On top of that, because I had recently co-organized a happy hour event for a departing employee (who left on awkward terms), she also reported me for being “exclusive” and not inviting her (even though 1) another colleague was helping me organize, who she never reported, and 2) I purposely didn’t invite her because I knew she would be out of town for a work-related conference). Instead of HR looking at this as some senseless, childish, and elementary-school-like behavior and dismissing it, they actually took it seriously (since HR at my last company was full of toxic, drama-instigating individuals who substituted activity for achievement every day). Our “People Partner” (what a joke of a title, by the way, as she couldn’t have been less of a “partner” but an trouble maker who abused her “power”) asked my manager to have a chat with me about it. My manager, who was relatively new at the time, seemed a bit helpless when he confronted me about it. It was clear he thought it was dumb, but he shrugged and said he was simply delivering a message that HR had asked him to share with me. In general, people at the office despised Amber; endless people would say she was childish, bratty, and lacked self esteem (one former employee who was on her way out said to me in disgust, “She is a child! She tried to force me to hang out with her after I left!”), but they were generally afraid of Amber since she was like a pseudo HR-representative in our satellite office.

The second person I think about when I think of this life history theory is a friend of mine who is currently on her second divorce. We met in college and connected over our love of Chinese language and culture, food, and travel. Throughout college, I got to meet and hang out with her parents multiple times. They used to visit at least a couple times a year and were so generous to take me out to many delicious meals together. We talked about all sorts of topics that I’d never dream of discussing with my own parents. They treated me and my opinions with respect. I’d never felt so intellectually stimulated by another person’s parents in my life at that point. I always envied her relationship with her parents, and I had wished my parents could be more like hers. My friend married for the first time in 2011, then got divorced around 2015. The guy was literally a clown, as he was a professional clown artist and apparently a bit of an unstable fraud. She got married a second time in 2017 (to someone who, from any outsider’s view, was the total opposite of her, morally and politically), had a kid with this second guy in 2019, and then filed for divorce last year. Somehow, she has dug herself into a hole where she not only gave up her house that she is still paying bills and mortgage payments on, but she is also paying for a Christian private school that she didn’t want her child to go to. Because medical related decisions need both parents to sign off on them, he rejected my friend’s request to get their child therapy for how to handle the divorce. Their child is struggling and hating the separation, and she’s acting out because she doesn’t understand what is going on. Her ex-husband, who is unemployed, is making no attempt to work again given that he’s essentially living for free off my friend’s hard-earned money. She is so short of money now that her grandparents, who are well off, are paying for her rental payments for her apartment that she escaped to.

I wonder about the two of them, though. Is it possible that both of them were so loved, so supported, so coddled by their parents and grandparents and all the money and resources they had, that they are basically like living examples of people who never felt truly compelled to “grow up”? No one wants their children to feel unsupported or unloved, but according to life history theory, we may need to find ways to instill grit in our children so that they do not feel like they have all the time and endless resources in the world to “grow up” and be independent. No one will really respect you when you are in your mid-30s and crying to mommy when someone won’t wish you a happy birthday. Few people will respect you when your grandparents are paying your rent payments as a nearly 40-year-old.

The life of Gen-Zers / Zoomers portrayed in Maame

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“We grow up fast. Not by force, but because we are needed.” – Maddie Wright in Maame

I recently finished reading Jessica George’s debut novel called Maame. I had it on my bookmarked reading list for a while, but a friend told me she recently read it, and that it was one of her favorite books she’s read in the last year. So I finally decided to read it and am so glad I did: from the very first page, the writing grabs you because it’s so approachable, and I found myself staying up late at night because the writing pulled me into the life of Maddie Wright, the protagonist, so much. When I’d read the description of the book being about a 25-year old British Ghanaian woman navigating career, complex family dynamics, and caregiving for her dad who has Parkinson’s, I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to empathize given the generational difference – would I find her point of view relatable given I’m 13 years older than her? I did want to read it since it’s unusual to read stories of any 20-something-year-old caregivers of their parents, especially from the point of view of women of color. Given I stayed up late three nights to read it, I’d say it’s likely one of the best books I’ve read this year.

The story is touching, heartbreaking, light-hearted, and funny all at the same time. I really feel for her being the only one in her family burdened with taking care of her father (other than the primary hired caregiver), as she has a useless mother who is having an affair all the way in Ghana with her high school sweetheart, and an equally useless and selfish brother who spends as much time as he can working and avoiding all family members despite being in the same city as his ill father and stressed sister. I loved the frantic Google searches and Reddit rabbit holes that she went on, as that is what pretty much all of us do in this day and age, regardless of age, when we have a question or are worried about something where we don’t know how it will end. I enjoyed how she handled the topics of mental health, depression, racism in the workplace, and family dynamics. I also loved the scene towards the end of the book when she starts screaming at her mother and brother after her father died, as these monologues finally made it crystal clear to the mother and brother exactly how much they hurt her and ultimately abandoned her and their father in a true time of need. I found her sexual encounters funny, as they highlighted that even with Gen Z, men of younger generations still prioritize their own sexual satisfaction over women’s — when the hell is this ever going to change?! Talk about sexism in literally every form…

But I am also a sucker for happy endings. I love the end when her dad’s will is shared, and the cheating mother just assumes that any money the father had would be left to her. The sum that he had been investing was a huge shock to all, especially the end amount. Her father made it explicitly clear in the will that all the money, every last cent of it, should go to Maddie, and only to Maddie. It would make logical sense, right, given his wife and son abandoned him when they found out he had Parkinson’s disease?

I suppose I also related to Maddie because despite being the youngest, she was the most responsible, the one everyone relied on to get things done and to make sure things were taken care of properly. Like her, I was always told from a young age that I was “wiser beyond her years.” Frankly, that’s a heavy burden to carry on your shoulders, and it gets tiring. It gets tiring when everyone assumes you will always be the strong one, the “put together” one. Through this book, I also got to learn a bit about Ghanaian culture, which I’d previously had zero exposure to (though I was familiar with a lot of the foods being cooked, especially cassava, groundnut, and jollof rice). “Maame” in Twi means “woman,” and it is often used as a playful or loving term when given to a daughter. But at the same time, it can be a burden because of all the responsibility it can entail, especially when people in your family start calling you that at a very young age, like in the case of Maddie.

Maame is the 15th book I’ve read this year. Reading in the evenings has been a nice escape and quiet time for my mind to not think about everyday life and instead, to enjoy (what is hopefully) good writing and complex character development.

Caregiver Workshop: Developmental milestones for ages 3-5

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This morning, I attended a caregiver workshop on developmental milestones for ages 3-5. It was hosted at Kaia’s school (the larger location a few blocks down), and the presentation was done by an instructional coordinator and a social worker who work for the Department of Education. Chris said he didn’t think it would be worth going to since he’d likely be able to find out all the information via a simple Google search. While that is likely true given the endless parenting resources that are available online, I thought it would be good to go for several reasons: 1) it’s nice to have in-person interaction, especially since I work from home 100 percent of the time), 2) it would be an interesting forum to discuss questions and concerns in a group format and have back and forth conversations, and 3) given these are done by the DOE, we’re lucky we even get access to this type of thing, so if we don’t take advantage of it and the turnout is low, they may end up discontinuing these, which would be to the detriment of those who don’t have the same resources we do.

And as I learned during the session, while data and general guidelines are useful and can always be obtained from pediatricians, medical professionals, and reputable online resources, it’s nice to be able to hear anecdotes about what social workers are actually seeing in the field. This format of nonfiction, “self-help” type book is also what I like the best: opinions backed up by data, as well as personal anecdotes peppered throughout. I always love hearing personal stories because our entire life is a continuous story. The social workers shared some scary anecdotes about developmental milestones getting delayed. They said that in the last five or so years, there have been an increase in cases of children as young as 2-years old who need occupational therapy referrals because they are somehow unable to turn a page of a book. They have no exposure at home to physical books, so instead, they get an iPad. They are so used to the motion of “swiping” up, down, left, and right, that their fingers just do not know how to pinch together to turn a paper page. That was mind boggling to me and made me feel so sad.

The families who don’t have the resources to buy their children physical, hard copy books, and/or the families who are so strapped for time that they cannot sit down and read a real book with their child — those are the families that need workshops and resources like these most. And I hope they are able to get access to them sooner rather than later.

First butternut squash of this autumn season, and first butternut squash soup (!)

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In my mind, there are three things that personally ring in fall / autumn for me: making my first pumpkin dessert (usually pumpkin bread since it’s easy and delicious), my first apple dessert (as first started during the pandemic year of 2020, when I made a German style apple cake (apfelkuchen) that was inspired by the amazing apple cake we had during our first trip to Germany, and 3) my first butternut squash purchase, followed by peeling and cutting up my first butternut for cooking, and SOUP!

I made a quick pumpkin cake with maple cream cheese frosting for our New Jersey play date in late September. Then, when my friend just came to visit, I made an apple fritter cake, which tasted just like an apple-laden apple cider donut, just without all the oil from frying. Yesterday, I peeled, cut, and roasted my first butternut squash of this autumn. Today, I used it to make a quick butternut squash and white bean soup. I had leftover white beans from cooking last week, and so I decided to puree it into my soup, which worked extremely well! I’m looking for more ways to incorporate beans into our diet for added protein (and just because they’re SO good for you), and this was a perfect way to get them in. The white beans added a velvety texture to the soup, and it gave the soup even more body, thickness, and creaminess. I definitely did not make the same mistake I made last year by using a crappy cartoned vegetable stock from Trader Joe’s; this time, I used some dashi I had made from last week, and the umami flavor really complimented the squash and beans well. With my three items checked off, it’s definitely and officially fall in our kitchen!

I’m looking forward to cooking with even more butternut squash and other autumn squash favorites, like buttercup and kabocha, very soon. Autumn/winter squash is truly the best squash. Take THAT, zucchini and yellow summer squash!

AFSP follow-up

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I decided to write a letter to this year’s AFSP Walk director. I decided against writing anything in previous years because I didn’t want to make a big stink, a “woe is me” plea. I recognize that they’re a nonprofit, that their team is quite small and lean, and that things can slip through the cracks. They aren’t some bloated organization where people are just twiddling their fingers all day. But this time, after 11 years, I feel like my voice needs to be heard about all the little slights over these number of years.

I drafted a letter, which is currently in my inbox. I tried to word and format it carefully so that it didn’t just sound like a bunch of complaining, but was actually speaking to flaws I think the walk and overall organization has. And this is coming from someone (me!) who has been involved quite actively for over a decade. I’ll probably sit on it for another day or two before I send it and make sure to proofread it for coherency. My friend suggested that after 11 years of being a top fundraiser, I really have already earned my seat at the table whether they are willing to give to me or not. He suggested I join the board or walk committee. I doubt they will offer me a board seat, but maybe a committee seat. I’m sure there are all kinds of road blocks to pass before getting an actual board seat. But the truth is that I’m not really sure what I want as a result of this. I suppose I just want them to hear a voice from their community and address how corporate they’ve become. Even if they offered me a board or committee seat, I don’t know if I want to spend that much extra free time, of the little I have, for AFSP. It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting to think about suicide and mental health awareness all the time. And it will likely just feel like another job, just one that I’m not paid for, and that likely will not bring me joy or fulfillment. We shall see how this goes.

The 11th AFSP Out of the Darkness walk in honor of Ed

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I’ve been an active fundraiser for the AFSP Out of the Darkness Walks here in New York City for the last 11 years. In the last 11 years, I single-handedly have fundraised almost $60,000 for AFSP and have consistently been ranked one of the top fundraisers and part of the top teams in New York City. This year, before a pending company match, I had personally raised $5,900 and was ranked third for individual fundraising. Our team raised $6,150 and was ranked 7th across teams. Despite my passionate, consistent efforts in fundraising, though, Chris and some of my friends have pointed out that year after year, something has gone wrong that has ultimately resulted in a slight towards my efforts.

When I first started with AFSP Out of the Darkness Walks in 2014, we had a real community, and people actively sought to get to know new people during the walks. I befriended the former Walk directors and people on the board; they knew me, and I knew them. AFSP acknowledged top individual fundraisers and teams in a much more prominent way that actually put a spotlight on community members. Since 2015-2016, this community feeling has gradually degraded. Instead of leaders and board members getting to know other active, top fundraisers, less is done to foster community, and more has been done to put more spotlight on corporate sponsors, whose names are already known. More has been done to spotlight board members, who are already “insiders” in the AFSP community. This is *not* how you foster community or encourage those outside of your board or organization to fundraise and participate. The way that these events are being run and how board members and sponsors are getting acknowledged, whether that is on stage at the Walk ceremony or on the backs of the Walk t-shirts, makes AFSP seem like it is becoming more like a corporation rather than a non-profit that values community. Their corporate sponsors already have their brand names everywhere; AFSP’s individual fundraisers and teams want more acknowledgement and should get it. Top teams and individuals used to get recognized on the t-shirts. This is no longer the case.

And as for my personal experience, I cannot remember getting acknowledged in person by any AFSP employee, board member, or volunteer for my fundraising efforts since maybe 2016. Previous directors always made the effort to meet me and any team members I had. This hasn’t been the case for years now. This year, my team, Team Edward Y. Wong, qualified for the Top Teams tent. When we checked in, only I was granted a Top Teams lanyard. I didn’t understand how the lanyards worked, so I assumed it was just given to the Team Captain (no one explained this to me). Several volunteers came up to us (one of whom was very rude), and said we weren’t supposed to be in the tent and had to leave. In a volunteer’s words, we were “not following the rules,” whatever those rules are because they were never shared with us. When another volunteer overheard what happened and recognized what was wrong, she went to see if she could get more lanyards. She was told they had run out of lanyards. Then, my friend/team member went looking, and she found a whole box of lanyards and got one for each of our team members. The disorganization and inconsistent messaging was frustrating, especially because it was embarrassing as one of the Top Teams who raised over $5K to potentially get kicked out. 

My team and I have also been slighted in other ways: there have been years my team wasn’t granted a sign, and this year, as many of my donors pointed out to me, our team name was even misspelled on the site; someone wasn’t even able to do a simple “copy and paste” and got Ed’s name wrong: His last name is Wong, NOT “Wog.”

As for the top fundraising and how that is calculated, it’s always frustrating when everyday community members get topped by board members and those “inside” the organization. This does not create a strong community and instead, it only serves as “pats on the backs” for those who are already within AFSP. Again, it reflects how over the last 11 years, AFSP has been acting more like a corporation rather than a people- and mission-centered company. 

I do this walk every year and fundraise as aggressively as I do in an attempt to keep my brother’s memory alive. I do it for those who are suffering and feel invisible. I do it in hopes that others won’t die the way my brother did. I have no ill intentions. I don’t have any questionable LLCs donating to me like some of the board members, who got the majority of their shady donations from these “LLCs.” All my donations are from my family, friends, friends of friends, colleagues, ex-colleagues, and legitimate corporate matches. I’ve been doing this now for 11 years — longer than anyone on Sunday’s stage has been doing this. After 11 years, it may be time for me to consider moving my fundraising efforts elsewhere to another mental health nonprofit that will actually genuinely appreciate the work and fundraising I do and acknowledge me and my team. I haven’t decided yet, but I will sit on it and think, and also look up other organizations. My main goals are to 1) keep Ed’s memory alive, first and foremost, and 2) fundraise and help others who are suffering. I could easily do that with another organization, and without AFSP.

When my friend’s visit triggers dreams I remember

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Last night, I had the most vivid dream I’d remembered in ages. I was back in high school, and my friend who is currently visiting was there. Weirdly, this friend was with me in college, not high school, but regardless, she was there with me. I was working some part-time job on campus in food services, and someone was framing me for trashing the food storage room during my shift. I kept denying I did it, but there was no proof that it wasn’t me. I was complaining to Mai about this and getting worried they would fire me or report me to the administration. She was trying to console me and was hugging me. Out of nowhere, some guy comes over and says he has video proof of someone else he had identified who was trashing the food storage room, and he would share it with me and the administration to prove that I was innocent. My jaw dropped. I rushed over to him to hug him, and he told me that everything would be okay. Mai started cheering, and we knew that I would be in the clear soon.

Whenever I have these odd school-related dreams, one of my very first thoughts is: I do not look back at any of my school days as times that I missed. I am happy they are behind me. I’m very happy with my life now and would never want to go back.

A continuation of the same life, just older

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Several years ago, my friend purchased a house in a suburb of Sacramento shortly after getting a new job up there at the local Veteran’s hospital. I was really happy for her and thought it was incredible — not only that she got a new job and bought a house, but that it all happened so quickly. She had only been searching for a couple months before this house worked out and it closed.

We ended up coming to visit her several months after she moved in during July 2021, when I was visibly pregnant. While she had told me that her brother would be “temporarily” living with her (he already lived in the area before she got her job offer), what I didn’t realize until later was that both her parents would also be living with her, as well. From her mom’s perspective, once two out of her three children were living in the Sacramento area, she wanted to move to be closer to them, especially since she said she never liked living in Arkansas. So she moved, then her dad sold their house and shortly followed after. When my friend told me, I always thought that they’d come live with her temporarily before getting their own house; at least, that’s how she framed it to me when we spoke. When I stepped into the house for the first time, I realized… no, that was not the case, or the intention, at all. The intention was that her parents would effectively move all their valued family belongings and essentially set up my friend’s house as their own. All their family portraits, including their graduation photos and special family event photos, were already up in frames. Her mom’s Buddhist praying area was set up in front of the house. Her parents even had the main bedroom and ensuite. My friend had relinquished her rights to her own main bedroom and was sleeping in a small bedroom next door that was like a teenager’s room.

Ohmigod, I thought to myself then. This is her family’s house now. She paid for it, but this is her parents’ house, and she’s living in it. I wasn’t sure how to react to any of this. And like she and her brother were as children growing up, her mom did all the cooking five to six days a week, and they’d eat out as a family once or twice a week. Her mom did all the decorating of the house, all the cleaning, all the housework. Her dad, the stereotypical Vietnamese male, did no housework and almost expected to be spoon fed. He didn’t even clear his plate from the table after eating.

While it’s now over three years later, the setup is still the same. Her parents and brother are still living there. None of them have any intention of ever leaving. They’re all just aging together. My friend and I are the same age, so we’re almost 39. Her mom is 71, and her dad is 81. I asked her if she was happy with this setup.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” my friend insisted. “They’re getting old and will need help. It doesn’t make sense for them at their age to live on their own or take out a mortgage.”

The strange thing about that statement is that her mom is currently in excellent health, which is why she keeps churning out Vietnamese specialties every day in the kitchen and does all the cleaning. Her dad has a rare slow-growing cancer, but the doctor has already said he’d likely just age with it given how slow this growth is.

I asked her how she would make new friends or find a potential partner with this current setup. She mostly spends all her time with her parents and brother, and while she does have some friends at work, that seems to be her only way of making friends since she doesn’t go out much. She said she didn’t mind it, but maybe she’d try online dating again. I have a feeling that both my friend and her brother have mental health issues that she’s never openly discussed with me, but she has hinted at it a few times without any elaboration. While it makes me sad that she refrains from being open with me about her feelings, stresses, and borderline unhealthy attachment to her parents as a nearly 40-year-old woman, I don’t push it with her. I just let it be, even though it seems like she’s just living the same life she did as a child, just 20-30+ years older. She seems to accept it as her fate. But part of it, I can tell, is her general distrust of society as she’s said repeatedly to me. She will casually mention she can’t trust humanity, which is why she would never be happy living in a condo or apartment long term (“What if they are stupid and set a fire that burns their apartment down, and then my apartment gets destroyed?”). But then the opposite of that is becoming a recluse in your own fortress of a home, isolated from other people who could truly add value to your life in the form of company, support, and love. Frankly, I am more concerned about how it feels like she is letting the prime years of her life pass her by. One day, her parents aren’t going to be around anymore, and then what will she do? Who is she going to lean on, especially with no friends nearby?

Funny occurrences at Hong Kong Supermarket in the early mornings

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Chris and I switched our usual drop-off/pick-up routine today because I have a 4-6pm work meeting scheduled. So I got up earlier to use the gym, shower, and get ready to take Pookster to school this morning. The plus side of this is that I was able to make a couple stops for food/grocery in Chinatown without having to take Kaia back with me. So I went to my favorite fresh tofu/noodle shop to buy some pressed five-spiced tofu (they’re usually closed by 4:30-5pm when I arrive downtown for pickup), stopped by a popular street cart for some freshly steamed rice noodle rolls with cha siu and egg, picked up some just-churned soy milk from Yi Ji Shi Mo, and also went to Hong Kong Supermarket for some ginger, cilantro, and scallions.

Hong Kong Supermarket’s sign says they open at 9, but I thought I’d stop by while waiting for my fresh noodles to be made at the cart right outside its doors. They were actually open, but all their fresh produce trucks had not yet loaded. I asked one worker if we’d have fresh scallions today, and he asked me to wait a minute so he could grab some for me right off the truck. He delivered on his promise; it was in my hands in minutes. The next funny thing that happened was when I asked for cilantro, and another worker said he’d (once again) get it for me right off the truck. A few minutes later, he came back with the largest, fluffiest, freshest bunch of cilantro I’d seen in New York in ages.

“This is the freshest bunch,” he said with a huge grin on his face. “Take this one!”

I thanked him and headed to the cash register to pay. As soon as I got there, the cashier looked at my cilantro bunch oddly and said it was too big. I didn’t initially understand: what did she mean? I just took what the worker gave to me. She asked for her boss to come, and he took the bunch, split it in two, and asked me if I wanted both of them. So I took one, paid, and left.

I really like being in Chinatown in the mornings. It’s a bit quieter in general, but there’s endless fresh food being made, as well as endless fresh produce just getting off the trucks. The mornings are when all this fun action like this happens that I rarely get exposed to!