Beautiful and green Vancouver and food “labels”

Three years ago when my parents, Chris, and I came to Vancouver for the first time, I was completely in love. This city, with its beautiful harbour, lush green parks, shiny new buildings, proximity to mountains, forests, and beaches — was like an urban paradise on the North American continent to me. The diversity of the city stunned me, and the number of ethnic restaurants everywhere was literal eye candy. There was no end to the number of Asian restaurants and businesses everywhere. And you could feel it immediately when you arrived at Vancouver International Airport because all the signs were in English, French, and Chinese. People were friendly. The city seemed pretty walkable. People exercise a lot here, everywhere. The air was fresh and clean. I decided by day three there: if I could pick a Canadian city to live in, it would be Vancouver. It pretty much has everything I love about a city… with the exception that it gets cold and rains a lot. But maybe I could one day temporarily deal with it? No need to be so absolute about anything, right?

I spent the mid afternoon to evening today exploring areas that I didn’t get to see much of in-depth the last time I was here, and I found myself loving it even more. The drizzly and overcast sky cleared up to reveal the sun and a few clouds here and there this afternoon, and so I frolicked around and enjoyed walking through Yaletown, Gastown, Chinatown, and the West End. I noticed the quaint cafe and coffee culture every few blocks. I witnessed road rage to the max when I least expected it (apparently, road rage is a big thing here; who would have thought that Canadians could be mean and vicious?). I heard multiple languages being spoken that I couldn’t even recognize and name. I was overwhelmed with my lunch options, all featuring local, fresh, and sustainable ingredients,  and had no idea where to start. Ooh, this is my kind of place. I just want to stay here forever.

Health and fitness are big in Vancouver, almost like the way I noticed it was a thing in Colorado when I visited, and the number of restaurants that not only accommodate vegetarianism and veganism but actually feature sections of these categories of dining is actually really astounding to me. I’ve become more open-minded to veganism over the last several years, especially when it is made with the usual  omnivore in mind. I’m never going to convert, but I’m happy to eat less meat. To put this in perspective, a “recommended” serving of meat/protein in a healthy, well-balanced, nutritious diet is four ounces; that’s about the size of a deck of cards. When you actually give the average American a burger or piece of chicken that size, they scoff at it and say it’s too small. In other words, we eat far too much meat and really don’t understand portion control. We’d all be better off if we reset our expectations and stopped expecting a lot of meat all the time, if not for anything else but our health’s sake. I love all good food as long as its tasty, but don’t give me a carrot and tell me that’s my main course unless you’re going to do something absolutely surprising and crazy with it.

I decided to stop by The Juice Truck in Yaletown today for lunch after reading many rave reviews about how good their food was by vegetarians and omnivores alike. What they do not label themselves as in their name or even description is “vegan,” even though they actually are a plant-based food company with multiple locations throughout Vancouver, both truck and brick-and-mortar shops. There’s not a single animal product used in any of their dishes or smoothies. You wouldn’t know this until you read the individual descriptions of the bowls, plates, or smoothies.

I ordered their “Caesar salad,” which is a mix of romaine, kale, and radicchio served with sriracha-roasted crunchy chickpeas, smoked maple tempeh, walnut “parmesan,” chipotle coconut bacon, fresh lemon, and their house-made creamy cashew “caesar” dressing, as well as their vegan peanut butter chocolate soft serve made with house-made almond milk. Both the salad and the soft serve blew me away. I’ve made my own crunchy roasted chickpeas before, but this was an encouragement to make this again and more often. The cashew-based caesar dressing was nearly addictive with how creamy and umami it was. I finished the salad and felt really satisfied. And what truly impressed me the most was the peanut butter soft serve. I cannot imagine anyone having that who is a peanut butter fan being disappointed and missing the cow milk.

Maybe it’s true: if we stopped labeling things “vegan” or “vegetarian,” maybe people would be more open to trying these foods and embracing them. The only place I saw the word “vegan” on The Juice Truck’s menu was in regard to the soft serve options and the loaf cake slices (banana and lemon coconut, which are made by a plant-based personality who lives in Vancouver and owns ToDieFor.ca. Labeling is overrated; good food is good food. And the more creative the food, the better.

 

Virtual reality in a hotel elevator

Two flights this week, one for work and one for pleasure. It always seems to happen that whenever I have a fun trip planned, I also end up having to schedule work trips nearly back to back or within days of each other.

For my friend’s wedding this weekend in Vancouver, and to keep loyal to the Marriott, I am staying at The Douglas Autograph Collection hotel in the Yaletown area of downtown Vancouver. I had an idea of how trendy and posh it was when I made the hotel booking, but I didn’t realize how intense it was until I arrived past midnight. I was so exhausted from the flight that I felt a bit disoriented when I got to the hotel. First, I couldn’t figure out where the actual entrance was (it’s on the 6th floor… above the casinos and the ground level). Then, when I got into the elevator, I felt like I was being pushed into a virtual reality. When you enter the elevator and the doors close, laser lights in shades of jungle green and golden yellow surround you on all sides, so when you look at your reflection in the mirror, it looks as though you are being warped into the future. These lights were so bright for bleary-eyed me, whose internal clock was past 3am by this point.

When I exited the elevator to my room floor, I went all the way to the end of the hallway to the corner suite, where… my suite was actually bigger than our New York apartment. There are multiple couches in both the living room and the bedroom, 1.5 bathrooms, and  views overlooking downtown Vancouver and the stadium right next door to the hotel. Even the shower has floor to ceiling windows.

Yep. It’s official. I never want to leave this place.

Chris is right; I’m so spoiled now by all these amazing hotel experiences. But I will say that each time, I definitely do not take it for granted. Every single time I come to one of these stunning properties, I still count my blessings and realize how grateful and privileged I am to be pampered like this in such beautiful locations in the world.

Racism everywhere

I was at dinner with my friend tonight, who is visiting for work from Seattle, and she was telling me that the thought of moving back to New Jersey after over six years of living in Seattle makes her want to gag. She could kind of consider New York City, but even that seems exhausting and frustrating to her. Within a day of coming back to the Tri-State area and going out to Jersey to meet some friends for dinner, she was assumed to be a foreigner on the train. Some white male made fun of her for supposedly not understanding the English signs on the train as she was reading them, and she turned around, glared at the guy, and said, “I’m actually from here, but the train is not making normal stops. And yes, I do understand and read English. Thanks.” He seemed completely stunned at her response, nearly stupefied, said nothing, and walked away. “I get this all the time in Jersey when I am back here,” she said, irritated. “I’ve never even ONCE experienced that in Seattle! Not even a single time!”

It’s sad to think that is true, that in an area that is supposedly so diverse that people could still be so racist and make such blatantly ignorant comments. But I don’t really think any place is immune to it — not Jersey, not New York, not San Francisco or Seattle.   We’re just lucky when we don’t experience it. Asians are still minorities in this country and will continue to be for a long time. And even when that isn’t the case, there will always be white backlash at us for supposedly taking over what they perceive to be “their” land and “their” jobs. The world will continue to turn.

Hamstring tightness

The week we got back from India, I did some pretty rigorous workouts, many of which included a lot of sprinting and HIIT sessions. And during one of those runs, I felt something feel like a pinch in my hamstring, but I figured, oh, it will be fine! It led to me hobbling the next day and feeling a lot of tightness along my hamstring all the way up to my butt, which as you can imagine, was really uncomfortable. I did everything from stretching to icing to rubbing tiger balm all over it. That was over six weeks ago. The pain isn’t there anymore, but the tightness still is. I stopped any running or cardio workout and mainly focused on my upper body. Then I tried swimming last week. But it still wasn’t improving. And it got me a little worried.

So, I called a doctor today to get some advice; he pretty much said I was doing everything I should be doing.. other than continuing to lightly exercise my legs. He advised against swimming, which I’d tried out in the last week. He also suggested I get a compression sleeve for my knee and thigh, which I did. And now I really feel like a poser wearing this. I’ve been hiding it with my skirts, but whenever I’ve seen other people wear these sleeves, I always think, wow, that person must be a real athlete! They must work out really hard! I’m not athletic at all, but I do exercise quite a bit. Now, I am one of those people.

He also told me to take it easy, as hamstring injuries can take up to three to four months to heal with proper care. That… makes me feel really excited. And like an invalid. Maybe it’s just a sign of aging since I’ve never really gotten injured during exercise before.

Hometown discussions

After an afternoon of customer meetings, my manager and I were sitting at the airport, eating burrito bowls and discussing life growing up in a semi-major city (San Francisco) versus a suburb of Columbus, Ohio, where he grew up. He now lives in Oakland in a house that he and his wife, also from the same hometown, bought, but spent most of his time in the Bay Area living in San Francisco proper. I obviously live in New York City, and it doesn’t look like Chris and I have any intention of leaving anytime soon.

“Do you think you’ll ever move back?” he asked between bites of chicken and rice.

It’s kind of a loaded question for me. I love San Francisco. I love its easy proximity to the outdoors, the clean air there, its reputation as a progressive, open-minded urban area. I love the different neighborhoods and how different they are. I actually even appreciate the odd micro climates that vasty vary from district to district.

But like anyone who gets bored easily, who is constantly looking for something new and unique and different, who doesn’t want the same experiences as everyone else around her, I do not find the idea of moving back to San Francisco exciting or even remotely interesting or pleasurable. It feels extremely mundane and to a degree, almost like I’m saying that I’ve given up on life and am resigning myself to the same ol’ same ol’ that the people I grew up with have and continue to have. And that is… gross to me. I don’t want the same life, even if San Francisco is not the same as what it was when I left it as a permanent residence.

No matter where you go in this country, the average American barely lives 18 miles away from his/her parents or where s/he grew up. Obviously, a multitude of factors contribute to why this is the way it is, but what this ultimately says to me is that at the core, most people do not crave change or a different experience to what his/her parents had, or a different experience to what s/he grew up with. Or maybe they had their period or “phase” or whatever you want to call it where they spread their wings, flew away… but decided to come back to the nest because it was time to “settle down.” When I hear about old classmates living in the same neighborhood as their parents in San Francisco or god forbid, in the same house, I immediately feel disgusted and can barely hide it from my face.

It’s actually a bit of a tragedy to think that our parents and grandparents or even great-grandparents left their families and homeland for a better life here, so they were far bigger risk takers than this current generation when it comes to uprooting oneself and choosing a “better life,” however you would like to define that. And so I explained this to my manager today while at the airport. I told him I just think it’s boring to “settle down” in the same place as one grew up… because I don’t really want my kids to go to the same middle or high school or even be familiar with the exact same neighborhoods as I was. That sounds senselessly boring to me. The mindsets in a single place never really change, either, and the ignorances you experienced while there will still persist today. San Francisco is a city full of liberal-minded people who sometimes are so blinded by their beliefs that they just can’t see outside of their perspectives. Living in other places gives you perspective. They do not get this.

My manager, having grown up in suburban Ohio, found this really interesting because he always thought that people felt this way in very non-diverse towns, but had never really heard of a “city girl” like me, coming from a relatively diverse place, complain about lack of perspective and finding her urban metropolis uninspiring, or get irritated by the fact that people from her hometown just don’t want to leave or even entertain the idea of living somewhere else. “I guess any place can be perceived as boring or uninspiring regardless of how diverse and open it is if that’s what you are used to,” he responded. Closed-mindedness exists everywhere, no matter how “great” or “diverse” of a place you live. I told him even living here in New York, I get annoyed easily by people who were born and raised in the Tri-State area and make massively sweeping (and flat out wrong) generalizations of “Cali” or San Francisco or pretty much any place that they’ve visited briefly for a work trip or vacation, but just think these three states are the best possible places to live in the entire world. That type of thinking exists everywhere. People think that wherever they are, it’s the best place. Perhaps it is the best place for them if they want the same thing constantly and to never have their perceptions or levels of comfort challenged, but that doesn’t make it the best place period.

And also, “moving back home” is more complicated by the fact that I married someone who is not just not from San Francisco, not from the United States, and not even from the North American continent. So while it might be “moving back” for me, it would not be moving back for him. He has his own version of “moving back” dread that I have, but in a totally different country and continent.

It’s been over 10 years now since I moved to New York. I originally thought I’d be here only 2-4 years and leave to go back to San Francisco. Clearly, that never happened. And I’m still not bored of it here. This city pisses me off all the time, but I still love it so much. You can’t have love without some hate. And it’s got airports that can take me directly to so many great destinations.

“New York is just a travel hub for you and Chris to travel to other places!” my manager exclaimed, laughing. “This IS a good place for travel to pretty much everywhere.”

That is definitely true, isn’t it?

JFK > MCO

Usually when I am flying and I get upgraded to Business or First Class, the general theme I tend to see is that the majority of the people who are sitting in the premium cabin with me are older white males, usually late 40s and older. Women are usually a minority, and with my being Asian, I’m typically more of an anomaly.

Tonight, though, when I got upgraded on my flight from New York to Orlando for a customer meeting, over half of the people sitting around me were black men and women… in fact, mostly black women. It was kind of amazing, and a bit shocking given my previous upgrade experiences. I’ve never seen this many people of color get upgraded or in the premium cabin before!

What is up with this route that would get more people of color in First Class?

Russell Peters at Forest Hills Stadium

Tonight, Chris surprised me by taking me to Forest Hills Stadium to see Russell Peters for his Deported World Tour comedy show. The greatest thing about going to see Russell Peters, or really, any comedian or any act of color, is that it’s guaranteed that the audience will be very diverse, as well. What has always frustrated me seeing theater in New York, whether it’s mainstream Broadway, off-broadway, or even smaller theaters like 59E59 Theater, is that the audience is almost always the same: a bunch of much older white people, with a small sprinkling of younger white people. Chris and I are usually the ones creating the element of “diversity” in the audience at those shows. And with an act who is of Indian descent like Russell Peters, it ends up being like multiple family reunions in the crowd, as families will use this as an excuse to get together. We saw so many big Indian or South Asian families meeting up in the food areas to hug and catch up. It was so adorable.

When I was a teen, I never imagined living to see the day when I could see Asian people like Russell Peters, Aziz Ansari, and Hasan Minhaj accepted as entertainers, and movies like Crazy Rich Asians reaching mainstream theater (though, Asian Americans in movies… this movie is JUST the beginning, really). Maybe I am actually gaining some faith in the world.

Air-chilled vs. not-air-chilled chicken

Although I am open about my love for Costco, one thing I am not a huge fan of is their whole organic chickens. Although they are sizable, well-priced, and organic, the one failing they have is that they are not air-chilled. What does that mean? It means that instead of being hung and air-dried, they are instead packed in water and then sealed. What this ultimately results in is a massive amount of excess water (and thus wetness) when you defrost the chicken and get it ready for roasting. This causes problems if you are concerned with having extremely crispy skin. The only way to get crispy chicken skin is to separate the skin from the chicken flesh, and then make sure it’s as dry as possible by sopping out any excess wetness on the external surface (and in the cavity). Getting an air-chilled chicken is the faster and easier route to the holy land of crispy chicken skin. Having a regular chicken will result in spots that will never fully dry out, even if you leave the chicken uncovered in your fridge overnight (which I always do before roasting a whole chicken). Neither of the whole Costco chickens that were packed in water ever achieved the ultimate Crispy Chicken Skin status that I wanted. But tonight’s air-chilled Whole Foods whole chicken did.

And it was delectable and glorious. Though Chris complained when I served the breast first (when you roast chicken, the breast will always be the most succulent on the day of; and every day after that, it just gets worser and drier. That’s just white meat for you). “Why do we have to eat breast? Why can’t we just have all dark meat? F— breast.”

That’s not really how a whole chicken works…

 

Office of sore wrists

A colleague had been complaining about experiencing sore fingers and wrists, likely due from a combined excessive use of computers (hello, work) and playing too much Nintendo Switch, so I suggested she try to use my Dynaflex Pro Gyro Powerball. Ed actually bought this for me back in college, so now at least 12 years ago, at the recommendation of our family chiropractor. I’ve used it on and off over the years when my wrists or elbows have acted up from computer use. My colleague used it at the office and brought it home to use it in the evening, and miraculously, her soreness completely disappeared overnight. Multiple colleagues then played around with it today, prompting another colleague to order one on the spot after seeing me use it, as he noted that he had been experiencing pain in his wrists lately.

These are first-world, white-collar problems that I’m helping to resolve, Or actually, if we had to be more accurate about this, Ed is still helping people even after his death, people who have no idea who he is, and who he will never have the chance to meet.

Lack of purse longevity

It doesn’t seem to matter how much or how little I spend on handbags, but none of them ever seem to last. A $250 Kate Spade crossbody bag that my friend got me as a maid of honor gift lasted about 4.5 years before I had to discard it, as the strap, the zippers, and all the edges started to fray and come undone, not to mention all the scratches that had accumulated all over it. I’m usually very careful with my bags, yet these things tend to happen over time. The $70 discounted leather bag (which was supposed to be over double that cost) I bought through Rue La La (a discounted designer items website) that I’ve used heavily over the last two years now has a handle that is on the edge of breaking, and there’s really no way to easily repair it. It would just need to be thrown out.

Then, there’s the Lo & Sons OMG (overnight / medium / gym) bag that I got just over two years ago, which is actually still in good condition despite all the travel I’ve done with it, but the strap has started to unravel. I emailed the company to ask if there was a way to have this repaired, but they said they had no process in place to have that done, so instead, they’d just send me a brand new replacement bag. Really — a completely new bag, just like that?

It gave me doubts about how much I probably overpaid for this bag in the first place given that they were so quick to offer me a free bag just like that. All these things are cheaply made, in China no less with cheap labor, and there’s no way to get any of these material items to last no matter how much or how little I pay.