9th year

This my ninth year in New York City. I never thought I would say that. I always thought I’d spend 2-4 years in New York, then move back to San Francisco, or at least California. It’s strange to think about how time has passed so quickly, and at the same time, I feel very young and old simultaneously.

In New York, I’ve made a handful of good friends, got laid off from my first job during the massive economic recession of 2008-2009, and since had two other jobs that have taught and exposed me to new things in life, for better or for worse. I’ve faced intense office politics and unfairness, sex discrimination, and subtle racial discrimination. I’ve had to compromise on ethics and when faced with the decision to be myself or suck up and be someone I wasn’t, I continued to be an adult and be myself. I’ve come to know when Jewish holidays are coming up because in this city, that is the expectation whether you are Jewish or not. I realize here that no one gives a shit about Lunar or Chinese New Year the way people do in San Francisco.

New York has hardened me. It’s made me a little more jaded, a little more cynical. But at the same time, I also have more hope. I have hope that even in the worst of times, I can survive and make it out alive and well. And in a Trump Nation for the next four years, I know that survival is key, and I won’t let Trump or any bad work situation prevent me from living the life I want to live.

Back to the gym

I finally got back to the gym this morning after a month hiatus. It’s always hard the first day back after Christmas and New Year’s given the long break from intense cardio and weights. It was even harder this morning when during my run on my treadmill, the guy who happens to be running on the treadmill next to mine continually farts, over and over and over again. It’s like he thinks that the ventilation at the gym is so strong that people right next to him cannot tell that he is flatulating. How dumb can people be?

I finally had to stop my treadmill and move all the way down to the other end of the row. And I was not the only one moving away from this idiot. It doesn’t matter how many smart people you meet in the city of New York; you will always continually meet even stupider people.

“expecting”

There is something about coming back from a warm, summer climate to a sad, cold, and dreary winter climate that is so depressing. I just spent about three weeks in warmth and sun, and I am returning to 20-25-degree-Fahrenheit weather, snow, and big waterproof boots. Nothing is exciting about this. All these people in my Facebook and Instagram feed, complaining that they grew up in warm climates like California and never got to experience a snowy Christmas — you guys are so short-sighted and delusional. I have no idea why you think you were deprived. In fact, I feel sorry for people who had to deal with snow and all the disgusting aspects that come with it. It isn’t all fun and games and sledding and snow ball fights when you have to deal with snow chains, salting and shoveling snow out of a driveway, and flight delays and cancellations because of low visibility due to snow. Stop trying to romanticize snow. It’s not romantic. It’s sad.

So, you can imagine how excited I sounded to talk to my parents. Talking to them regularly means I am back in New York, as negative as that sounds. Today, my mom asked me, “So, are you expecting?” WHAT? No, I am not expecting. I am not pregnant. I will not be pregnant this year. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with expecting or getting pregnant. You are married and at the age!” she exclaimed. Why do you think I am expecting? I asked her. I heard you may be, she said, oddly. “Who in the world would you ‘hear’ that from?!”

In fact, she heard it from no one. She was just hoping. And she also said I sounded so grumpy that she thought I was getting mood swings from pregnancy. Great.

Birthday cake

I’m ordering myself a birthday cake this year. This year’s indulgence will be chocolate mousse, creme brulee, and chocolate sponge cake. I’ve done this many years before, and this year, I am doing it again. Why is this so amusing to so many people?

I was on the phone with someone at a French bakery in Midtown East today, and she asked who the cake would be for. I told her it would be for myself, and she laughed and said, “For yourself? hahahahhaha!”

Why does a birthday cake have to be purchased for you by someone else? If I want to buy myself a birthday cake, I will do it. I don’t need some loser bakery assistant to imply it’s silly or excessive to buy myself a cake. If I want to buy myself a cake every single day, then I will do it.

Jetlag dreams

I am plagued with a negative subconscious. When I remember my dreams, which hasn’t happened much in the last month, they tend to either be confusing, conflicting, or flat out negative. Oftentimes I am having an argument, aggressive or passive with someone, and it’s not going in the direction I’d like it to go. Someone is dying in the dream or getting beaten or battered, or I am screaming for some reason.

Because my jet lag is always the worst coming back from Australia, I knew my first few nights of sleep back here would be disturbed, resulting in waking up every few hours. However, what I did not anticipate was that all of Chris’s dreams would literally be about fun and rainbows. In between small snores, he keeps repeating “wow, look at all the rainbows. Look at all the different colors. So many.”

It doesn’t seem to matter whether he is conscious or unconscious, but he always seems to experience better things than I do. Why can’t I have blissful dreams like that?

“Just 22 days”

When you work in a country like the U.S., and in a city that is as competitive and work-obsessed as New York, it’s always amusing to hear people’s reactions when you tell them that you will be out of the office for more than five consecutive business days. If you tell them that you will be out for 2+ weeks, be prepared for them to respond with, “wow” or some other surprised gesture or facial expression. The U.S. doesn’t recognize paid time off as something that you really deserve or should take advantage of; we’re a capitalist economy that strives to work everyone to death unless you are the upper 1% who doesn’t really need to work. People pride themselves on saying that they don’t want or don’t need to take a vacation. I have colleagues now who ridicule other colleagues in their mid-twenties for taking vacations in excess of four to five days. This is the world I choose to live in and be a part of.

So you can imagine my reaction when I was on our day trip tour outside of Chiangmai, visiting Doi Inthanon National Park in Thailand, when a German woman announced to our small group of six that “my holiday is just 22 days, so I’m only visiting Thailand on this trip.” Just 22 days? I couldn’t help but laugh and call her out on it.

“It’s clear that you are not American because no American would ever say she is on holiday for ‘just’ 22 days,” I said, laughing, and everyone else in the van laughed in response. We were in a car of one German, two Italians, three Hong Kong citizens, Chris as an Australian living in the U.S., and me, the sad American.

Every time I hear something like this, a part of me feels pain and wonders if I really belong in the U.S. Clearly, I live a privileged life, and I do not feel sorry for myself at all, but these conversations on principle make me so angry. Why should any American feel guilty to take a holiday for two weeks or 22 days? Why have we done this to ourselves? There’s so much here I just do not agree with. But the grass always seems greener on the other side. So what would I really miss here, other than family and friends, if I were to leave?

Back to a reality of being blamed

I called my parents for the first time since coming back to New York this evening, and my mom immediately brings up the spicy food order I sent them and says that it has now caused my dad a prostate infection. She said she didn’t want to blame me, but she wanted me to know the facts. Umm… what? That was weeks ago now, and what does a spicy food order from over two weeks ago have to do with some supposed prostate infection of today? I told her I had no idea what she was talking about and to put my dad on the phone. He was awkward, but he would tell this to me straight.

“The food has nothing to do with the infection,” my dad said in an annoyed tone. “Don’t listen to anything she says. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And also, we’re still waiting for the test results, so we don’t even know if I actually have a prostate infection yet. Prostate infections cannot be caused by food. She just loves to connect two unrelated things and say one caused the other.”

Oh, really? Are you just realizing that now, Dad?

 

TSA Snafu

After clearing immigration and tossing our checked bags to get rechecked on our flight back to New York through LAX, we went through the regular security check line at Tom Bradley International Terminal and passed our carry-on bags through. Much to our annoyance, the tray with all three of our laptops in it got marked for inspection, and we waited over 20 minutes for a TSA rep to do a formal check on our computers. When we asked why there was no one coming to do an inspection, a rude TSA worker said they didn’t have anyone to do it. Chris said to her that we had a flight to catch. She responded back, clearly annoyed, “Everyone here has a flight to catch.” Yet, she stood there the entire time just looking around and not physically doing a single thing. The even more ridiculous part about this was that there were three other TSA reps standing by the body scanners, chatting away and doing little to nothing, plus a random TSA employee standing there and watching the trays pile up at the end of the security line (while there was a shortage of them at the beginning of the line), and the TSA guy who ended up calling out for bag check ended up doing the check on our bags. So he called for someone who never ended up coming, and in the end after over 20 minutes, he decided to do it himself. Wow, what a good idea.

As much as I love Elizabeth Warren, I have to strongly disagree with her when she gets mad that people knock government agencies and say that “nothing in government ever gets done.” When you see incompetence and flat out laziness like what I’ve described above, it’s quite hard to have respect for government workers when they do not value efficiency and actually getting their jobs done (which they are paid very well for). At the end of the day, what is their incentive to work faster with getting travelers through security, anyway? Their wages will be the same, and they’re not incentivized to work faster, be friendly to travelers getting through, or to take on tasks that they may not have gotten officially assigned at the beginning of their shifts. People work based on incentives. If there are no incentives, there’s no reason to do a better job.

 

 

End of Thailand trip

Our last day in Thailand included a complete cluster with our in-unit washer at the hotel. We thought it would be a good idea to return home with all clean clothes instead of the massive dirty laundry bag we normally have, especially given we’re coming back from a very humid city, but it resulted in a flooded kitchen and sopping wet clothes. We had to manually wring out all the clothes into the kitchen sink, then dry the clothes in the dryer machine three times before everything was dry enough to pack. Why do washer and dryer units have to have so many complicated settings and then fail? You’d think they would have gotten simpler and more intuitive as time has gone on.

I’m sad to be leaving Thailand, especially all the incredible street food and the array of beautiful colors everywhere, but I think I’m ready to leave. Traveling to cities as crowded and fast-paced as Bangkok is rarely relaxing, even when you are taking breaks for indulgent yet cheap activities such as massage or facials. And with places like Chiangmai, there is so much to do, see, and eat that you feel like you have to see as much as you can in order to make your time traveling there worth it. I’m actually looking forward to relaxing on the couch when we get back to New York, because as Chris says, our vacations are not our relaxing times; that’s what couch time back home is for.

 

pandan

We returned back to Bangkok today after some delicious last few Isaan dishes and mango sticky rice, and while checking back into our same Bangkok hotel, we were greeted with little glasses of the most intriguing iced tea. It was a faint green color, lightly sweetened, and probably one of the best thirst quenchers I’ve ever had. I asked the woman checking us in what this was, and she responded that it was pandan tea made from pandan leaves. It’s a popular tea here in Thailand, and though I have seen and had it in desserts before, I never realized it was actually consumed as a tea. So now it’s my quest to find this tea before we leave Thailand. And so far, I am failing.

I’m guessing the reason no one is selling it in the loose leaf or tea bag format is because locals actually brew the whole fresh leaves, which are easily purchased at fresh produce markets anywhere here. I saw it so many times when browsing markets in both Bangkok and Chiangmai, but not once did I see the leaves in a dried form. A recipe I found online notes that for two cups, you just need four fresh pandan leaves. Where am I going to find fresh pandan leaves in New York City?! I’d never even seen them in Chinatown.

The only dried versions online I could find were on reseller export sites and eBay, so this was clearly marketed toward people outside of Thailand. I guess I will just need to search for it in depth when I return to Manhattan Chinatown.