While New York is my current home and has been for the last 16-plus years, San Francisco will always be my hometown. The next place that would be on the list would be Boston. I went to school in the Boston area for four years. I commuted back and forth between New York and Boston for three years after I graduated from Wellesley for a long-distance relationship. At minimum, I was there one weekend every month in that three-year period between 2008-2011. So much is familiar to me in Boston, as during my school years, I remember spending a lot of time just walking everywhere in Somerville, Cambridge, and Boston, exploring random streets and seeing what all the little neighborhood quirks were. Looking back, I remember that it felt like I knew the city better than friends or former classmates who actually studied and lived in Boston and Cambridge because they spent so much of their time just on their own college campuses. I’ve always been a city person, so whenever I could and didn’t have a midterm, final, or major paper holding me back, I wanted to be in the city and escape the ‘burbs of Wellesley.

Once that long-distance relationship ended, I didn’t return to Boston again for another six years. Chris planned a long-weekend trip in spring 2017 to take his parents to Boston, so the four of us went and explored the city once again. Then, between 2017-2019, I’ve had at least 2-3 work trips a year to Boston. When I would take these trips, I’d always leave ample time for myself to wander around and explore, try new bars and restaurants, and also catch up with local friends/former classmates if they were available. Sometimes, I’d be reminded of things I did at certain restaurants, locations, or neighborhoods. I’d reminisce on fond memories I had with friends in different areas. Other times, I’d be rudely reminded of dumb things that were said or done on specific streets. That’s what Boston is for me: it’s full of lots of memories, the good, the bad, and the neutral, because I spent a good chunk of my late teens/early-to-mid twenties there. And every time I went back on a work trip, I’d debate whether I’d want to eat at an old haunt (assuming it was still around), or try something fun, new, and/or trendy.

The last time I was in Boston was July 2019. I came back today for a customer onsite meeting, and it hit me that it’s been just over five years since I was last here. I arrived early this morning, so I decided that since I needed to be near South Station by noon that I’d have breakfast in Chinatown. I went back to an old favorite dim sum house called Windsor Dim Sum Cafe, a small restaurant on the second floor, which made dim sum to order after you marked what you wanted on a little sheet of paper. Since it was just me, I ordered pork and preserved egg jook and a bowl of sweet soy milk. Both came out piping hot and were delicious, though oddly enough, I actually think they added a bit too much sugar to my fresh soy milk (I really never thought I’d say that. This must be my aging Asian taste buds talking…). I really enjoyed being the first guest to open the shop at 10am. I sat down and enjoyed my congee while slowly sipping my soy milk as some grandmother/father-aged guests came in. Two friends also came in who looked around my age. They must have had a break from work and/or parenthood because both were having a very intense discussion about breastfeeding, pumping and under-supply. I was almost tempted to join in, but refrained since I was enjoying my alone time quite a bit and really couldn’t be distracted from my own food and drink.

After nearly four hours this afternoon at my customer’s office, I then spent several hours wandering through multiple areas: the Seaport, Downtown Crossing/financial district, Chinatown, the Boston Commons and Public Gardens, and Back Bay. So much is the same and felt nostalgic, but much has also changed. Newbury Street had more “for lease” store fronts than I had imagined. I figured it would have been hit hard by the last several years, but didn’t think it would be this dismal. Newbury Street also has far more Asian businesses in the form of casual restaurants, bubble tea shops, and shaved ice/fancy nail shops than I’d ever seen before.

I was saddened to learn ahead of time that my favorite Chinese cake shop of all time, Eldo Cake House on Harrison, had shut down mid-2022, due to unfavorable lease renewal terms. I was never fond of any Asian cake growing up because I found them boring and flavorless, but Eldo completely changed my mind about this. In my college years, I purchased two large cakes from them for two different friends’ birthday parties/dinners. Every time I’d be in Chinatown, I’d stop and buy something from that shop because it was just so exceptional. On every single work trip to Boston between 2017-2019, I always made sure to drop into Eldo for at minimum, a single slice of their mixed fruit and whipped cream cake, even if it was completely out of the way. THAT was how damn good that cake was. It was truly special, one of a kind, with just the right amount of sweetness, the most fluffy and bouncy sponge cake, always super fresh fruit, and perfectly whipped (non-dairy) cream. I don’t know if I will ever have Chinese-style cake that is that perfect ever again. In addition, Gourmet Dumpling House, which was my favorite Boston Taiwanese/Chinese restaurant on Beach Street, has also closed down at a similar time that Eldo shuttered. The story is similar to Eldo with a pricey rent hike, but on the plus side, it looks like they have a second location that is still humming along and quite popular in Cambridge. A few new trendy-looking restaurants have opened in the Chinatown area. I remember trying one during a 2018 or 2019 work trip and being completely underwhelmed. Sometimes, it’s the old traditional stuff that is just more satisfying than what is trying too hard to be unique.

I had dinner tonight with a college friend I hadn’t seen since my last Boston visit in July 2019. We ate at Saltie Girl on Newbury Street and shared a huge, luxurious salad and two warm and decadent lobster rolls. It felt so good to see her after so long. We talked about and caught up on so many things over three-plus hours together. I’m still processing what we discussed and trying to remember it all. It just felt really nice to be reunited with an old friend after so long, and after we spent so much time in college together.

I used to be sad shortly after graduating from college to think that I only had two good friends that I left college with, plus a small handful of friends like this one who I loosely kept in touch with. Socially, I did not think Wellesley was a great place for me, even if academically, I was decently suited to it. In my twenties, I was envious of other people who seemingly had endless friends from college who would be their 10 bridesmaids or have epic 10-20-person girls trips annually. But now nearing 40, I realize that what I have is actually really great, and I am grateful for the connections I was able to make and continue to keep. I have people from college who I can reunite with after years of not seeing or speaking with in depth, with maybe the occasional text or Instagram message, and it feels like meeting up with family again. They feel familiar, you feel familiar, and everything just feels comfortable. There’s no reason to front or posture over how great or perfect our lives are (because God knows all our lives are pretty imperfect and full of annoyances and tribulations). We just say what we think even if it sounds stupid, and we discuss it. There’s really no right or wrong answer when it comes to your thoughts.

Or, maybe that’s what approaching middle aged status means: being comfortable in our own skin, not giving a fuck what other people think (or, less than our younger years, relatively speaking), and well, being extremely cognizant of our own imperfections, our aging, and ultimately our mortality.

When I look back at all the major cities we’ve visited in Canada, while I loved Toronto, Quebec City, and Vancouver, for some reason, I do not feel the “L” word is quite fitting for Montreal, and I’m not completely sure why. In 2014 when we first went, it was dreary and raining almost the whole time we were there. I am sure that did not help. But the other part that threw me off was that even though I know basic French since I studied it in school, when I listened to people speaking in French in Montreal, it didn’t sound anything like the French-French I learned in high school. I remembered people constantly bumping into me. I wasn’t sure if they were tourists or locals, but it was really annoying.

And somehow, similar things happened this time around, too! On our first day in Montreal, people were constantly bumping (or almost bumping) into me on sidewalks and streets. It was as though they lacked peripheral vision. Then, the weather was also crappy this time around, as well! It nearly poured within hours of our arriving, and we ended up having to duck into a little Italian cafe to avoid getting drenched by the torrential rain. Plus, with the rain came lower temperatures: it’s at least 10 degrees F lower than what the weather report showed for this area before we left. I was being stupid and naive when I packed for this trip, and the heaviest thing I brought for myself to wear was a flimsy cotton cardigan; the part that annoyed me the most about this is that I usually always pack an extra layer or two just in case (it’s my San Francisco “you can’t trust the weather” mentality). I have no real shoes and only two pairs of sandals. I was freezing here today.

I don’t know when I am going to Montreal next, but I do hope that if and when that next time comes, that the weather actually holds up and I’m not constantly getting wet while I’m there. Because if you are walking around a city as a tourist under dressed and freezing, it will never bode well for how you remember it.

While wandering around Ottawa on foot, we stumbled upon the National Gallery of Canada across the street from Ottawa’s Notre Dame Cathedral on our first day in town two days ago. We noticed there were long lines to enter and was wondering what interesting exhibits might be attracting such a diverse crowd. As Chris suspected, it was a free night: every Thursday night between the hours of 5-8pm, all national museums in Ottawa grant free admission for all. So, we got to enter the museum for free and enjoy music, drink, and an art-making session. There was an open airy space in the gallery where you could sit, drink, people watch, and grab some black paper and a tray of crayons, and just draw. I originally grabbed the paper and crayons for Kaia. Sadly, she lasted about one minute before she grew bored and just wanted to run around and wreck everything. So instead, I ended up using the crayons myself and drawing some different flowers and butterflies. And although I didn’t do it for very long, I actually enjoyed it a lot and found it quite freeing. It was like my mind was unloading all of the crap I had on it from San Francisco the previous week. It reminded me of the trend a number of years ago around adult coloring books: these types of mindless doodling and coloring activities can be a form of therapy. They are soothing, relaxing, and enjoyable to do.

We just ordered Kaia a couple new crayon boxes for her new school’s supplies list that was just shared. Who knows – I might end up “borrowing” some of her crayons for my own art projects in the near future.

Every time I come home to San Francisco, I am always immediately reminded of how much better all the produce is in California versus New York. Aside from the obvious point that a lot of the produce we eat in the U.S. is grown in Mexico, and thus travels a far shorter distance to California than New York, California also produces a sizeable chunk of the nation’s produce. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, as California, if it were its own country, would stand as the fifth largest economy in the world. Plus, the produce in California just comes out tasting better. I’ve long thought that California peaches and oranges are far superior than any others grown in other states. Florida oranges are shit; I stand by this statement. I don’t even know why people think Florida is great for oranges when Florida Naturals, the juice brand, makes the most hideous processed orange juice I’ve ever tasted. There is something about California oranges that makes them so delicious, perfect for both juicing and eating. They are extremely sweet with just a hint of tart (and just enough), but their flavor is complex, and far more so than oranges grown in Florida and elsewhere in the country. Georgia and New Jersey loves their peaches, but I have always found them a bit blander and more one-noted than the California peaches. Is there a water issue with California? Yes. But that’s completely beside the point that California grown food just *tastes* superior.

Here’s something seemingly silly I always marvel at every time I come home to my parents’ kitchen: when my mom has bought cilantro (which is fairly often, since she loves it and uses it to garnish almost every Vietnamese dish and many Chinese dishes), I always notice that it just looks that much fresher, healthier, almost fluffier or bouncier, if that makes any sense. I’ve never seen cilantro wilt in her kitchen; it seemingly always wilts in my New York kitchens. In addition, it also seems to last longer, and my mom doesn’t even store cilantro in the “recommended” ways that food guides I read suggest!

After dim sum in the Embarcadero with friends yesterday morning, we walked around the San Francisco Ferry Building farmers market, which I haven’t visited since my early working days back in 2011-2012. It seemed so much bigger than I remember: there were far more prepared food stands than the last time I remember visiting. There were cider stands, many types of pie and cake stands, even an Indonesian dessert stand. I loved seeing all the fresh produce at semi-reasonable prices, looking and smelling quite vibrant. I marveled at all the varieties of heirloom tomatoes, clearly marked, all looking like they just got plucked off the vine yesterday morning. The sight of all this fresh produce was really stimulating to me, even though I had zero intention of buying any since we were leaving today, and I knew my parents wouldn’t appreciate any fresh farmers market haul. I was excited to see that the Roli Roti stand was still there, humming along with its very long but efficiently moving line, churning out the most delicious roasted chicken, porchetta, and crispy pork belly that we could smell, served in local, crusty Acme Bread loaves. I fondly remember working out of my then-company’s San Francisco office and asking my colleagues what their favored lunch options were. A bunch of them insisted we all walk over to the Ferry Building Farmers Market to get the famous Roli Roti sandwich. And before we even got to the growing line, I could smell the irresistible scent of slow-roasted rotisserie chicken and juicy, crispy porchetta. We were a chatty bunch, but when we sat at a bench and ate our sandwiches, we all became silent, just enjoying the taste of that amazing sandwich.

I almost wish my stomach had space for that sandwich, but sadly it didn’t after the sumptuous dim sum we had at Harborview Restaurant and Bar, which was one of the best dim sum experiences I’ve had in ages (next to Hong Kong Lounge Bistro on Monday with my parents); every single dish was perfect. I am normally not a huge siu mai / shao mai person, but the ones at Harborview were truly exquisite (and I never use that word). They looked beautiful with their intricate pleating and were topped with some sort of fish eggs. The mouth feel and crunch of the shrimp against the rich, fatty, silky kurobota pork were the biggest highlights for me in this siu mai experience. I also loved the custardy, silky milk pudding with a hint of ginger juice (it just dissolved on contact with my tongue!), the creamy yet firm and fruity mango pudding, and literally all the sugary-crusted buns we got, ranging from cha siu to coffee. And though I was full at the end, I still was tempted to keep slurping the pi dan shou rou zhou (century eggs and pork jook), which was made even more special with finely shredded dried scallops. Dried scallops were also shredded in the nuo mi ji, the sticky rice with chicken and mushroom wrapped in a fragrant lotus leaf. Harborview is an upscale dim sum experience, and with the scallops and other fine touches and details, it was certainly more than worth it.

My friend (who I have known since I was in middle school), her husband, and their almost-2-year-old met with Chris, Kaia, and me for dim sum. We sat the two kids together in their high chairs at the restaurant. Given we were all eating out with our two toddlers and attempting (and mostly failing) to have a meaningful conversation, it was definitely a little chaotic. While it would have been more peaceful without the kids, it also wouldn’t have allowed for all the cuteness to be witnessed and documented by our phones. Neither child ate particularly well, but when they did eat together and interact with each other, it was a little bit of magic. It was endearing to see our babies interacting with each other since we have been friends for over a quarter of a century now. I always hoped that Kaia would like the children of my closest friends, but I wonder if they will know each other well enough to want to be friends and maintain contact with them given they will not see each other as often as their school friends. But I suppose only time will tell.