I’ve realized that of the Meetups I’ve been to, the most interesting times have been when the group is a big mish-mash of different people from different countries and parts of the world, and we’re generally eating ethnic food. Interesting food is what brings interesting people together.

Tonight, I went to a South Indian food meetup in Midtown East. I arrived later than most of the others because I get off work later than they do, so initially it seemed awkward because no one was talking. No one really started talking until we started talking about different food, which led to discussions about politics, cultures, and living in different parts of the world. We had two Indian guys from India, a girl from Malaysia who studied in Delaware and now works here, another who went to school in D.C. and now works at the Federal Reserve, someone else who is originally from Singapore, but his family immigrated to Sydney when he was young, and now, he never spends more than two years at a time in one place because of his contracting job as a statistician. We had two teachers, one who teaches kindergarten and another who teaches community college courses on substance abuse in the Bronx. Three of us work in tech.

I learned a lot of interesting things tonight. I learned but forgot that Alaska was mostly made up of men, but didn’t realize that the men who are there, due to the fact that Alaska is in the middle of nowhere, gets 23 hours of darkness for half the year, and is cold as hell then, results in five times the number of domestic violence cases as the rest of the country (this is told by the guy who never lives anywhere that long from Sydney). I also heard interesting hypotheses on why Australia is so Asian yet remains racist – hypotheses that I can actually believe. Maybe this will be my new goal – stop going to fru-fru restaurants for Meetups and stick with the well-priced, ethnic holes-in-the-wall. I definitely was not bored tonight.

I’ve lived in New York for almost six years and have never been to Kalustyan’s until today – it was the highlight of my day. For anyone who is unfamiliar, Kalustyan’s is a pretty well known specialty foods/spice store in Manhattan that’s been around since the 1940s. It has aisles and aisles of every spice that you never even could fathom existing. I think I counted about 15 different types of paprika – just paprika.

I suppose for the average New Yorker who has about ten inches of kitchen space, never cooks, and lives off of delivery and dining out, this wouldn’t be surprising. But for someone like me, whose happiest moments are spent traveling, eating, or cooking, this is a bit of a shock. It’s always been on my list of places to visit, but I just never got around to it. And then today when I Google Map it, I find out it’s just a few blocks away from my office. I’m there.

It was a fun experience perusing the aisles and picking up the few Turkish and Middle Eastern spices I had on my list, but it was definitely a very pricey place. Pickled mangoes and limes I could find at Patel Brothers in Jackson Heights were marked up almost triple, and most Chinese sauces were at least double what I’d find them for at Hong Kong Supermarket. My mom’s beloved chewy ginger candy was marked at $10/pound when I could easily buy it off of Canal Street for about $2. It’s a novelty for me since I haven’t really explore Middle Eastern spices like pul biber and and urfa pepper much before, but maybe I will save my next Middle Eastern spice run for a hopefully cheaper trip to Bay Ridge.

Last night, Chris and I went to get our Indian fix at Dosa Delight in Jackson Heights in Queens. As our usual routine, we’ll have dosas and mango lassies among other things there, and then we’ll stop by Patel Brothers to stock up on Indian spices, curry leaves, mixture, and plantain (banana) chips. I made a quick list of spices I wanted for our pantry, and one of them was asafoetida. It’s a very fragrant (or smelly if on your clothes or body) gum spice that gives a really distinct Indian flavor. I couldn’t find it immediately, so I asked one of the Indian workers there for help finding it. He walked me to the right aisle and showed me my options, and then started showing me other things I could use with it. Then, he asked me if I needed help finding anything else. He was so friendly and happy the entire time even though I had taken him away from stocking another shelf.

I thought about this in contrast with the tiny bit of help I’ve ever asked for at a Chinese supermarket (in Chinese, mind you), and I’ve always been treated gruffly and as though I was a burden. Chinese people in supermarkets are rarely happy to help you even if you are one of them. The difference is pretty stark… and pathetic. You’d wonder what makes Chinese people so miserable and Indian people so happy. Maybe Indian people’s smelly spices make them happier people. 🙂

Chris has officially boycotted kale and quinoa. While both are full of nutrients and are obviously extremely healthy choices to add to our everyday diets, he refuses to eat or buy them, as they are so trendy now that everyone seems to be serving them on menus everywhere, and as a result, the prices of both items have increased significantly. He hates how trendy and hipster they have become. While there are some fair points made here, I refuse to completely stop eating them. There are places to buy both items at fairly reasonable prices, and it’s not like we eat them every single day. I’m not one of those people who have actually succumbed to purchasing “kale chips” at the market (though I have tried to make them, and the result was that about 1/4 were crunchy, and the rest were just… steamed in the oven).

A decent group of individuals at my office have decided to pay $120 for a three-day juice cleanse. Yes, that’s $40/day – for non-solid food. And apparently, that is considered “cheap.” With that said, I think that there are far worse and stupider eating choices to make than eating quinoa and kale regularly.

We just found out that our next door neighbors in our apartment building are moving out as soon as their lease is up in a couple of months. Their desire to move has been exacerbated by a massive mice problem they’ve been facing. Mice have been raiding all of their cabinets, even the top ones, and it’s gotten so bad that they’ve completely stopped cooking or eating at home, and just go out for food all the time. Today, the building paid these exterminator-type people $125 per apartment unit to inspect each apartment. Lucky us (for real this time), there wasn’t a single trace of mice in our apartment anywhere, even in the heaters where they usually hide.

I’m still not sure how that is even possible that the mice could hang out in their apartment, which is literally on the opposite side of our wall, but never make their way to our side. Chris and I are very anal about cleanliness and making sure all food remnants are cleaned up and raw foods sealed in air-tight containers, but even when you are the model of cleanliness in New York, rodents and roaches can still come visit.

Or maybe just by writing this post, I will curse our good luck and a mouse might decide to stop by..

So the first birthday celebration at a bar I’ve been to in a long time happened tonight, and as lucky as Chris and I are, it was pouring rain most of the night. Chris’s shoes and socks were completely soaked. Then we got forced into a mandatory paid coat check because apparently at this drinks/dance/pool venue (yes, four-feet-deep only, though), you’re not allowed to wear your coat or even carry it. I also couldn’t order a drink for Chris and could only order a drink for myself – the rules of the bar. And my friend’s happy hour ended just half an hour after we arrived. Now, I’m reminded of all the reasons I don’t enjoy “partying.” Even before I was living with Chris and “settled down” in that way, even when I wanted to like it, deep down, I still didn’t. Why would I have a conversation yelling with someone over loud music when I could possibly do the exact same thing at a restaurant or wine bar where we could all sit comfortably and talk without straining our voices?

Maybe it’s a sign of age, or maybe it’s my inner “oldness” that I’ve always had because I never got that excited about these types of events. Either way, I’d only go for someone I really cared about. As time goes on, the need to “party” and “get wasted” will die down for everyone with age, anyway, and will be replaced with more meaningful activities. It’s one positive of getting older.

This has been a subdued week. I feel very little motivation to do anything proactive. I suppose I was proactive in going to that Meetup yesterday, but I felt dejected thinking about how little may come of it.

I feel like I am spending so much time doing things that are supposed to be making me a better, more knowledgeable person, yet this week, I feel unfulfilled by it. All the brain games from Lumosity, the history of Chinese business and sky jacking and Economist reading, and even Meetup events aren’t really helping. I’m not doing them for the sake of doing them as I loathe – I actually do enjoy them. But this week, it’s not really cutting it for me. It feels like I am just drifting and waiting for each day to end so I can go to sleep and be away from this world for seven or eight hours.

Tonight, I went to a free Hula dance class at the Chelsea Recreation Center that was organized by a Meetup group I am in. The funny thing about this particular event is that only two Meetup group people actually came – one other girl who organized it and me. Everyone else there had just come for the free class. Several people committed to coming and did not. Others just wrote apologies on the Meetup event’s wall and said they’d make it “next time.” It’s such a typical New York thing – to be flaky, not commit, and ultimately in the end never show up.

The Meetup girl I met was actually pretty interesting. She has dual citizenship in Greece and the U.K., but was born and raised in Dubai. Now, she’s living permanently in the States. Although we seemed to have clicked and had a lot in common (amazing – I finally found someone who actually enjoys cooking – and does it regularly!), I have doubts I will see her outside of Meetup events. Everyone in this city just loves having their options open until the very last second and not committing to anything. Instead of wanting to make real friendships, people just seem to want to do what’s convenient for them in that very moment. People are impossible.

Spring is officially here, yet New York seems to have trouble understanding this since the forecasted temperature tomorrow is 35 degrees, and a snow storm is expected this Wednesday. The down coat and winter gloves and hats are not getting tucked away just yet.

Spring also tends to mean spring cleaning – in other words, clean all the crap out of your apartment and de-clutter it. I just went through our cupboard of all our bath, body, and cleaning products, and I can’t believe how much stuff we have. I’ve lost count of the number of lotion bottles I’ve accumulated, there are too many samples of lip products from Birchbox, and I have an inane number of travel-size toiletries from hotels everywhere. This is just confirmation that I need to end my Birchbox subscription, as much as I love getting a “present” in the mail once a month. I can barely keep up with my samples and still have bottles of product I haven’t even looked at since two years ago.

New York City is a public transportation city. People generally take the subway, bus, New Jersey transit, Path, or Metro-North train to and from work. If they’re lucky, they walk. It would be rare to hear of anyone living in Manhattan and driving to their office *also* in Manhattan. I’ve been working here almost six years, and this is unheard of to me.

Atlanta, on the other hand, is a driving city. The city does have what appears to be a very clean public transit system called the MARTA, but no one seems to take it. All of my clients at the agency I am here to visit drive everywhere, and especially to work. My colleague who came down on this trip with me said she wanted to try being a “local,” so she took the MARTA from the airport into Midtown Atlanta, where we are staying. She elicited a number of laughs when she told the office this, as they informed her that no “local” would take the MARTA. Okay, then, someone please tell me who takes the MARTA? Someone has to be taking it and keeping it running!!

Another thing that is foreign to me – a large number of our clients have gotten their cars broken into. One of my clients just had his car window smashed a week ago, and his work Macbook air and iPad were stolen. Another client’s car got broken into twice last summer. These are the things that would shock a New Yorker. We don’t own cars up there, so what would we know about car break-ins?