We’ve spent the last day and a half exploring St. John’s, and it’s already clear to me how different Newfoundland and Labrador, or “Newfie,” is to the rest of the other Canadian provinces we visited, even Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick. The accents are stronger here and surprised me; they sound like some combination of a Canadian accent mixed with Scottish and Irish. St. John’s feels very quaint and small, even though it’s the capital of Newfoundland and Labrador. The downtown area felt like a little seaside town in many ways, with brightly colored homes (in the vein of the Jelly Bean Row homes), windy streets, and small shop storefronts. All the businesses we’ve visited so far support other local businesses, for everything from their meats, cheeses, and produce all the way down to the salt they use. And if they aren’t supporting local businesses, then they are literally making and growing everything they use and serve themselves. The Newfoundlanders take so much pride in their crafts. 

I guess they didn’t accidentally name Nova Scotia “New Scotland” for no reason, nor are the accents similar to the Scottish accent for no reason, as well. We visited the Johnson Geo Centre, which is built right beneath the beautiful Signal Hill National Historic Site, the highest point of St. John’s. The centre describes the earth’s geological makeup, the local area’s cultural history, and in general, Newfoundland life. The craziest thing we learned from visiting this exhibit was that back in the Caledonian orogeny 400 million years ago, two bits of the earth’s crust began to collide. The result much later was the Central Pangaean Mountains that formed. What we know now to be Newfoundland and Labrador and Scotland were actually the same land mass once upon a time but have since been separated. The same rock formations found in Scotland can be found in Newfoundland today, and we saw many examples of this during our hike as well as at the Geo Centre. 

The other interesting history we learned was the real cause of the Titanic sinking. At first, I was wondering why the Titanic even had its own exhibit, but then I found out this was due to the Titanic crashing in this vicinity. The exhibit made it very clear that you cannot blame the Titanic sinking “because of an iceberg,” which I always thought was idiotic, yet another example of human beings refusing to have any accountability or take responsibility for their mistakes. The crash and the over 1,500 deaths that happened as a result of the Titanic sinking was really due to many, many greedy and arrogant white men, including J.P. Morgan, who at the time, made selfish and short-sighted decisions, resulting in this epic and tragic devastation. What probably made my blood pressure soar the most was seeing that those who managed the Titanic gave zero reparations for damages and deaths to the survivors and families despite their extreme wealth. This, plus the fact that there were not enough life boat seats for everyone, and they boarded people on the life boats in order of class – it’s just amazing how greedy and heartless people are regardless of what time period we’re in. 

Signal Hill gives a gorgeous view of the entire city and the sweeping water, harbor, and lighthouses that surround it. We spent the late afternoon yesterday hiking this area, and it was so impressive how well laid out and maintained it was. It reminded me a lot of the coastal walk in Rhode Island, just that here, there were far fewer people hiking, and the ones who were actually in the area seemed more like locals going for their daily exercise. There are boardwalks and stairs in many areas, chains where the ledges are very slim so that you can still safely walk across the rocks, and many resting areas where bright red Adirondack chairs can be found. The colors of the area were so vibrant; the green of the grass seemed to be nearly florescent and glowing in some areas, while the water appeared aquamarine and emerald-hued, sparkling wildly depending on how bright the sun was shining. The greens and the blues really contrasted with the whites and reds of the lighthouses. You could also see all those millions of years literally layering on top of one another when gazing over the cliffs and the rock formations, with all the different layers and shades of tan, brown, orange, and red. 

The rugged beauty of this area has stunned me in the last couple of days. I’m happy that it feels so remote and untouched because that adds to the beauty and serenity, but given its proximity to New York City (it’s just about 4 hours away by flight), it’s crazy that so few people come visit. Most of the tourists we’ve noticed so far have been domestic tourists exploring their own backyard. This truly feels like a getaway from civilization as we know it.

I was in an airport lounge restroom at the Toronto airport this morning, standing at the sink while washing my hands. As an older woman got out of her bathroom stall, I casually noticed in the mirror that she seemed to be waiting for someone else to exit another stall as she also washed her hands. In about a couple minutes, a much younger female (she couldn’t have been any older than 11 or 12) also exited a stall and stood next to who I assumed to be her mom. She clearly used the restroom and flushed, but she made no attempt to get to a sink to suds up her hands.

Older woman: Hun, aren’t you going to wash your hands? You just used the bathroom, didn’t you?

Pre-teen: (grimaced, said not a single word, then points to the little bottle of hand sanitizer that is attached to the side of her backpack. She made no indication that she would use it then and there.. or maybe even ever).

Older woman: You’re going to that instead?

Pre-teen: (nods)

Older woman: Okay, then. If that’s what makes you happy.

They exited the bathroom. There are so many problems with what just happened, ranging from entitlement, lack of gratitude, lack of self-awareness, #firstworldproblems, to just plain filth, that I cannot even begin to list them out now.

I was immediately wondering exactly how permissive of a life this child led to be allowed to exit a public restroom without washing her hands. The purpose of hand sanitizer is to use it when you do not have access to soap, water, or a public restroom. She clearly had access to all the above. Yet, she stubbornly refused to use it. You’ve got to be kidding me. If that were my child in that situation, I would have said, “You’re in a public restroom with running water and soap. You’re going to wash your fucking hands now.”

My last customer meeting ended at 2pm today, so when I was originally booking my round-trip flight, I wasn’t sure when they would have availability with me and arranged to come back on a 7pm flight. I called AA to rebook me onto an earlier flight, and they placed me on the 5pm flight. At the airport as I was finishing up some work emails, I received a cancellation notice for my flight. While on my computer, some massive grey clouds descended upon Boston Logan airport. For a while, I couldn’t even see through the window because it was like we were being fully drenched in endless streams of water. When the rain dissipated, I tried to go to the nearest gate to see if I could get on the next flight out. And I overheard that a small tornado hovered over the entire Boston Logan airport, resulting in countless cancelled flights, including mine.

I was imagining a tornado spinning, fully surrounding this airport, and imagining all these people, including myself, sitting there, typing away on their computers, reading on their smart phones, completely oblivious. I’m not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.

I silently dealt with the flight rebooking and sat down. Unfortunately, not everyone was as quiet as I was because some rather overweight gentleman came barreling through the crowds of people surrounding the gate I was at while on his phone, complaining at the top of his lungs how mad he was that he had to rebook flights and hotels due to the weather here and how terrible everything is for him. And when he wasn’t done, he proceeded to call four more people to tell them the exact same story. His voice was nearly at shouting volume. Many, many people turned to look his way to give him disapproving looks. He had zero self awareness.

I realize that everyone has different coping mechanisms when travel plans do not work out, but is it really necessary to be complaining loudly so everyone within 200 feet can hear about how horrible your life is when a flight gets cancelled or delayed… when literally every single person standing around you is facing the exact same thing?

While I spent four years in college in the Boston area and then subsequently went back very regularly to visit my then boyfriend for three additional years, there was always one restaurant in the North End I always wanted to eat at, but just never got around to because it was infamous for its long wait (they don’t take reservations), plus it was cash only. From what I’d heard, they were also pretty arrogant and had terrible service, but sometimes, that’s just what you deal with to get good food, right?

Finally, this work trip, some friends in the area suggested we eat in the North End, so I asked if we could go to Giacomo’s. We didn’t wait long; in fact, we waited just long enough for our third friend to arrive and got seated right away. It probably helped that it was a Monday night at around 6:30, too. But when we got seated and I took a look at the menu, it all seemed pretty standard. I couldn’t tell if these were all fresh pastas or not. We ordered the veal parmagianno, the fettuccine with mixed seafood, and the lobster ravioli, as well as the fried calamari to start. The fried calamari was mediocre at best, full of fillers, even fried onions and peppers! The veal and the lobster ravioli were delicious. The mixed seafood was all cooked well. But the fettuccine, although al dente, wasn’t anything remarkable. I wondered why a place this famous wouldn’t have fresh, homemade pasta as a default, or even an option on the menu… until I read a Yelp review that said you actually have to “know to ask” for the fresh pasta with a small uncharge. Why should an Italian place have that be an “off menu” item — isn’t that something so basic to their cuisine?! But almost to make up for it, the prices were pretty reasonable, especially for the North End of Boston; with one starter, three mains, and tax and tip, we ended up paying $26 per person, which is pretty unheard of in this part of town.

Giacomo’s has decent Italian food, but other than the for the prices, I’m not sure why this place is so popular and always has crazy lines. It seems far more overhyped than it should be. I definitely think that New York City is infinitely better for Italian food overall, for the range in price points, quality and variety of Italian dishes, as well as.. well, places that actually offer fresh pasta and don’t make it some senseless secret.

Every time I come to San Francisco for work, I feel grateful that I have a number of colleagues here who I like, value, and appreciate, even beyond work, but I feel conflicted because I rarely get as much work done as I would like. The reason for this is because I end up spending a lot of time catching up 1:1 or in small group settings with them, whether it’s over coffee/tea, lunch, or snack breaks, that I never end up getting all the tasks I originally set out to do done.

The way that I circumvented that this time was by front-loading my month to ensure that the majority of my calendar was free while I was here this week. It’s the end of our fiscal quarter, so while sales is scrambling to close their last deals, I’m pretty much done with my planned customer engagements and can calm down a bit and catch up on other “nice to have” tasks that I don’t always have time for.

It felt much better this time around. I didn’t have to feel as rushed or time pressed. I actually could enjoy myself and my catch-ups, and I didn’t constantly have to check my phone for messages, emails, and the time. It was a “relaxed” state of work for me.

In the summer of 2007, I had a summer internship at Fleishman Hillard, which is one of the largest public relations firms in the world, in their downtown San Francisco office. I was working for its technology practice with a very large and busy team. It was located at 555 Market Street, which I’m assuming it still occupies, one of two twin towers that shares a grand entrance complete with a ramp that runs over a waterfall and pond fixture.

Today, I went to its twin building for a customer visit, and it felt a bit funny for me to be entering these buildings again, 12 years later, as a working professional, visiting from New York to meet with one of my customers. I no longer work in public relations (and thank God for that), but I still am in the technology sector. I walked in, feeling grateful that I left PR to pursue technology for many, many reasons. Life would have been very different if I had continued in that career path, and it would have felt pretty lifeless and boring. That entire summer was painful at work, and I waited every day until 4:30 or 5 when it was okay for me to leave. That office was a sea of politics and favoritism, and knowing how low the pay was and how unattractive the benefits were made it even easier to turn my back on it.

A lot is wrong in the technology industry, particularly when it comes to women and people of color. But where I am today is far, far better than the choices I left behind from my college internships.

Chris and I were traveling today from New York to San Francisco for work on the same flight, and we both requested an upgrade via miles. Due to a system malfunction, AA failed to properly process his credit card for the mileage upgrade, so he got skipped over in favor of two people behind him on the upgrade list. I got upgraded in advance of our flight, so I was already set up in business class. He was not happy about this.

So I set myself up in the first row of business class, and as the flight attendants shut the plane doors to complete the boarding process, I stood up to take a look back at the rest of this cabin. Lo and behold, as with nearly every other upgraded flight I am on, it’s always the exact same view: a large sea of white men gracing the entire cabin. The few exceptions are the occasional one or two white or South Asian women, and of course, me. In this case, every single person in business class was a white male except for the white woman seated next to me and myself.

We have a legacy of racial inequality that we cannot escape, as much as people want to assume that race does not affect or factor into everything. Once someone claims he is sick and tired of viewing everything through a lens of race, that’s when you know he is blinded by his own privilege and the injustices he may never have had to encounter himself. Why is that? Because it is such an extreme privilege to not have to think about one’s race in daily interactions, how we are treated, how we are looked at. At this point in my travels, I shouldn’t be that phased by this view behind me. I should accept this as the reality of travel. But it still irritates me a little bit every time, particularly with these transcontinental flights. I am a tiny part of that change, but fliers like that white woman next to me and/or Chris are not enough.

I’m on a plane again just two days after coming back from China. My colleagues were making fun of me yesterday about this. “You just got back last night, and you’re on a flight again tomorrow? You’re crazy!” Well, when work has to get done, work has to get done. And I’d like to say that I pride myself on being productive and getting crap done, which means I oftentimes need to travel to do this with customers. 

Traveling to see customers also takes me out of my usual day-to-day routine, which helps me keep my sanity, especially when yesterday’s snafu occurred. I don’t have to directly deal with the same politics, the same insipid nonsense of office life that makes me want to grind my teeth down. And, I also get the ability to have little luxuries like a hotel room that overlooks a manmade lake at a resort in Orlando, or enjoy lobster deviled eggs at a well-appointed bar at the JW Marriott in Grande Lakes. In this sense, I don’t have much to complain about and recognize that I am quite a lucky person. 

The last time I transited in Tokyo Narita International Airport was two years ago when Chris and I were passing through to and from Taiwan. I remember thinking that on our way back to New York, I wanted to stop by one of the duty-free shops, Akihabara, to pick up some Royce chocolate that I love. In Japan, these Royce Nama chocolates are only the equivalent of $4-5 USD, while at the duty-free shop at Narita, they are around $6 USD. However, if you want to buy them in the U.S. at an official Royce shop, like the ones that are in New York City, for the same box, you’d pay $18 USD, which is crazy! I understand why they would do this from a capitalistic, money-making perspective, but on the consumer side, there’s no way I would be that desperate to pay over three times as much for the same product, even if I only pass through Tokyo every few years. These are little luxuries I can live without.

Two years ago, though, I failed at my attempt to buy them because the line for checkout at this duty-free shop was far out of the store and snaking out. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing this with my own eyes; the wait would have been at least 45 minutes in line, not to mention all the aggressive Chinese tourists literally sweeping up shelves and shelves of products into their shopping carts. Others were running around chaotically, grabbing whatever was available and barely even looking at what they were snatching up to buy. I was really upset then and determined to make sure I actually came out successful this time. And I was successful this time at two different stores, one without even a minute’s wait. There was slightly less aggression from Chinese tourists, but this time, I noticed that some of the people buying multiple shopping carts-worth of Japanese chocolate and green-tea biscuits were not just Chinese this time, but white American and European tourists! More competition at duty-free now! It seems like everyone is discovering all these Japanese sweets and wanting to take them home, both for themselves and as well as their family and friends as gifts.

Chris’s commentary on food has certainly evolved over the course of our relationship. While he’s always enjoyed food, as the years have gone on together, he’s become far more vocal when it comes to flavors, textures, and presentation. This has even extended itself into foods he feels okay about, but doesn’t necessarily love or gravitate towards, such as bubble tea/tapioca tea/boba, and loose leaf tea, like the ones we’ve been tasting throughout this China trip. Before this trip, Chris never had a strong opinion about any bubble tea or loose leaf tea I’ve tasted or bought and had him try. He would just say they were fine or good and say it was my choice whether I liked them enough to buy them, and leave it at that.

As far as I can recall this trip, we’ve had about five different bubble tea drinks, and he’s declared the Yu Cha outside of our Chengdu hotel his favorite: in the taro milk tea, there was a very generous portion of minced and stewed taro — creamy, slightly sweet, and very rich. Then, in the egg pudding milk tea, the egg pudding was also creamy and rich, eggy and custardy. He disliked one of the ubiquitous chains we went to for their milk tea, insisting it wasn’t that sweet or unique, that the tea flavor felt watered down. And he’s not a huge fan of the “cheese” top with the salty-sweet milk foam, even though I love it. “That’s not good… I don’t want that,” he thought out loud. “That’s just tea with some milky thing on top, and that is not milk tea. Milk tea is tea with milk incorporated into it.”

The worst tea tasting we had was of a few Sichuanese teas at a Tianfu tea shop in Beijing. I was unimpressed by all four of the teas we tried. Two of them tasted like vegetables in a cup. A third one tasted like… nothing. The fourth one was probably the most flavorful, but that was a sad comparison when holding it against the other three. Chris sat there, also unimpressed after sipping from his tasting cup, and insisted that two out of four of them were “grass in a bowl. This is like drinking grass. This is not good. But, you’re drinking it, so you decide.” Luckily, the shop assistant helping us knew zero English and understood nothing that Chris so vocally stated. When she asked our opinion, I simply said that we were not particularly fond of any of these, and left it at that. She seemed crushed knowing she wouldn’t get a commission off of us.

But while at Zhu Ye Qing and the tea tastings we did at the tea market in Shanghai and Beijing, Chris declared these tastings far, far superior to the one at Tianfu tea shop, which is a mid-tier tea chain throughout China. “Not even a single tea we tasted at this place (Tianfu) can compare to the quality of teas we had at these other places. They’re just charging you for grass,” he insisted.

Tastes evolve over time, even for things you don’t really think you like much. That’s why it’s good to keep an open mind when traveling to places you aren’t very familiar with and still tasting things when you previously thought you might not have enjoyed them. You might actually discover you like said food or drink because maybe, just maybe you will have a version of it that suits your tastes.