Quarterlife Curiosity

Word Association Becomes Beautiful

2010-08-25T22:07:00.000+07:00

Magazine Birds

2010-05-03T09:00:00.033+07:00

Inspired by amazingly creative Katie at Color Me Katie, I spent an afternoon cutting birds from vibrant magazine pages and filled an empty wall. I smile every time I see them.

Kathmandu Valley

2010-05-02T21:54:00.000+07:00

I was so enamored by the quiet Himalayas that last week when I posted pictures, I forgot to include some from our whirlwind tour of the Kathmandu Valley.

Black and Whites

2010-05-02T21:33:00.001+07:00

While I was sick, I remembered the times as a kid being home-bound with a fever, lying on the couch and watching more TV in a day than I was allowed to watch in an entire month. Other perks that came along with being sick were gifts from my dad, including musical cards, silly pens and gadgets from drug companies, and famous NYC black and white cookies. Admittedly and fortunately, the cookies didn't only show up when illness struck. They were presented from briefcases, on occasion, just because.

They are not pinnacles of gourmet baked goods, they do not require special skills or equipment or ingredients to make, they are not complex in flavor; however, they provide that taste memory that brings me back to my childhood when sweets and TV were treasured privileges.

So, after I was feeling better, I decided to attempt to recreate the black and white cookies of my youth using the recipe from Smitten Kitchen. The results were good, but the cookies just didn't taste the way I remembered. In fact, the ones I made tasted more gourmet-y with a cakier cookie and chocolatier icing. Nevertheless, they were a nice memory trip.

Dirty Water

2010-05-02T20:10:00.000+07:00

Giardia

Well, I think I am finally on the mend after two weeks of being sick! First it was a cold that just made me feel really run down and then the giardia hit and took over my world. If you've never had the pleasure of meeting these little parasites, allow me to introduce you. They lurk in food, water, or soil that's been contaminated by the poo of an infected person or animal. (Yes, that's right. In spite of choosing food carefully, treating our water, and washing my hands, I managed to ingest someone else's fecal matter. Eew!) Once consumed, they take up residence and reproduce in the small intestine, where they wreak havoc on the digestive system, causing abdominal cramping (among other symptoms I will spare you) with pain that may give childbirth a run for its money.

So, anyway. I took a single mega dose of an anti-parasitic drug and am now cured. Yeah!

I must admit, that during the past few weeks between tense political protests, traveling in Nepal, and then being sick, I just haven't really felt inspired to blog. I'm hoping after forcing myself a few times, I'll get back into the swing of it.

*Fingers crossed*

I'm Back!

2010-04-23T10:07:00.001+07:00

April in Thailand is wet and wild during the annual Songkran (aka Water) Festival that marks the Thai New Year and the beginning of the rainy season. I am not ashamed to say, I hate this holiday. I lived through it once and found participants intrusive and aggressive and it was downright annoying to be drenched with water days on end, especially on the way to and from work. (I sound like Scrooge, I know.) So, I have vowed to myself to always leave the region during this time of the year. (Yes, as I discovered three years ago, it's not only a Thai phenomenon; Burma celebrates drenching strangers, too.)

This year, T and I traveled to Nepal where we remained undrenched (except for copious sweating on our trek to and from Namche). It was awesome. The hiking was tough, but the views made it all worth it. I loved being in nature and working hard during the day and then hunkering down with a book or a few games of Uno before an early bedtime. The mountains breathed new life into me and I had a smile plastered on my face nearly the entire time. I just couldn't contain my happiness.

T on one of the many suspension bridges --not for those with fears of heights!

Namche Bazaar. We made it!

From our hotel window at Snowland. We moved to the much nicer and friendlier Namche Hotel the next night.

Thar she blows! Everest! (T was pretty disappointed that all we could see was the tip.)

A mani stone with "om mani padme hum" painted in Tibetan on it. The words are considered sacred, so one must always walk clockwise around these stones, as tradition dictates.

Ah, mountains! LOVE them.

Birthday Cupcakes

2010-04-07T18:33:00.000+07:00

I took on the task of baking cupcakes for a friend's daughter's 3rd birthday. I opted for plain chocolate cupcakes using a Cook's Illustrated (maybe the smartest, usually-right-on cooking magazine out there) recipe with a surprise ingredient of sour cream (crazy! wild!) to make the cakes lighter and cut the sweetness a bit. Much needed, since I topped the cupcakes with super-sugary buttercream. This was my first attempt at buttercream and I don't know if I did something wrong or if I'm just not a fan of buttercream, but it was just ultrasweet, buttery, and otherwise pretty flavorless. Blech. I'm much more of a chocolate ganache girl.

All in all, I thought the project turned out well and all who partook in the results seemed happy. Including the birthday girl.

Perhaps my greatest source of pride: a homemade cupcake transporter

Also, in case you didn't see this article, or hadn't noticed during your blog travels, taking photos of food is a trend. (Duh.) Thank you for pointing that out, New York Times.

Going Postal

2010-04-01T14:57:00.005+07:00

In 1975, four Postal workers, tasked with canceling stamps, were recorded at the University of Ghana post office where they kept their boredom at bay by turning their rhythmic work into music. So cool.

Aquatic Insects

2010-04-01T10:30:00.001+07:00

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Incredible photos of sleeping insects covered in dew. These bugs look like jeweled broaches.

Tastes like Crap?

2010-04-01T10:20:00.001+07:00

Modern Toilet, a restaurant chain in Taiwan and, now, Hong Kong is decorated like a bathroom, complete with porcelain pots to sit on while you eat your meal. In 2004, it began by serving swirls of ice cream out of toilet-shaped bowls, but they have since expanded their menu to include savory dishes, as well. I'm not sure if I think this gimmick is clever or kind of gross. Regardless, I think it's funny that people dig it.

unless noted, all images via

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I am a Hollow Reed

2010-03-31T18:36:00.000+07:00

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I have been absent here for a week somewhat intentionally. In an ordinary day, I feel I am hit by waves of negativity numerous times. Why are there so many brash, hostile, bitter, and just plain mean people out there? I have yet to learn how to brace myself and prevent the bad vibes from penetrating me to the core. It's exhausting. In an attempt to learn, I am staring to read some books on meditation and, at Meg's suggestion, I have picked up a couple of Eckhart Tolle's books. He's received so much press; I'm curious what all the hype's about (and am hoping his words will guide me to a place of clarity and peace).

In the past, I have had long periods of laid-backness and intrinsic happiness. Recently, in my life of imbalance, I have been recalling those times and trying to determine the pieces of the puzzle that made it possible. Three things stand out as influential factors:

*lack of responsibility and ability to live a carefree life (I was traveling or doing work that was mindless and simply a means to pay rent, not a career path)

*surrounding myself with kind people who didn't stress, laughed a lot, and were seemingly on their way to enlightenment or just content living a simple life

*having easy access to nature and living in the mountains

*living far away from my parents and being less in touch with them

This last point deserves some explanation. I love my parents dearly and often consider them two of my best friends. I think they did an amazing job in parenting me and making me who I am. That said, I know I rely far too much on their opinions and allow them to subtly (and subconsciously) impact my choices in a way that makes me wonder whose life I am living. Even as an adult, I feel an extreme internalized force pushing me to choose what they think is best for me and questioning my role at work, what I do extra-curricularly, and with whom I spend my time. And when I can't or don't live up to the high standards that have been set, I feel overwhelmed, anxious, and disappointed.

How can you be a grown-up when you're still your parents' child?

It's not clear how much of the pressure is coming from them and how much is actually perceived by me, but I do believe that from the time we are quite young, we are conditioned through role modeling and explicit or implicit messages to live a certain way. I take life so seriously, feel so much pressure to achieve and succeed, and am so controlling that when something doesn't go as planned, I get bent out of shape and feel as if my head or chest will explode. I am too tightly wound and need to remember how to relax and enjoy life. I need to rediscover how to let go, chill out, and release the negativity and the anxiety.

I am hoping that through reading, thinking/introspecting, meditating, and visiting mountains, I will remember to breath and live with kindness for myself and others. I will return to the self I recognize and aspire to be.

Yiddish Tuesday: Schmatta

2010-03-23T15:15:00.000+07:00

Schmatta (ˈ sh mätə): n. old, tattered clothing; rags

You're not going out wearing that schmatta, are you?

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"Like Smoking Chocolate"

2010-03-22T20:42:00.004+07:00

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I love cafe culture. I love sitting in a coffee shop and reading, being anonymous amidst the other nobodies, enveloped in the aroma of freshly ground beans and espresso.

I'm not a picky coffee drinker. I mean, sure, I can tell Starbucks from Nescafe, but I'm not fussy about my beans or the particulars of the techniques. (It would be hard to be fussy in Bangkok, as Starbucks is often as fancy as it gets.) I take mine black with a splash of skim and sometimes a sprinkle of sugar and cinnamon. And, I love the routine of preparing my cup, then snuggling into a corner with the newspaper or a crossword puzzle or a good book (and sometimes with a smuggled-in homemade scone, which is much healthy, more delicious, and cheaper than a Starbucks' version) and pretending I am in a wintery place and it's Sunday. Ahhh...

So, when I read about the year-old product, Le Whif, which offers "the taste of chocolate without the calories" and "the kick of coffee without the cup", I was kind of horrified.

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The mere idea of chocolate or coffee without the full sensory experience leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But wait. It gets worse. The company that produces these lipstick-sized whiffing sticks are working on an "inhalable three-course meal"! Can you imagine taking a puff of particles to replace a morning coffee, a piece of chocolate, or even a leisurely meal with friends?

Sexy Structure

2010-03-17T08:22:00.001+07:00

Jean Nouvel's new residential tower on West 19th Street in NYC is one hell of a sexy building:

The piece in the NY Times called it a "mix of grit and glamour — embodied in a glittering facade that seems to have been wrapped around the curved front of a black brick tower like a tight-fitting sequined dress". A tight-fitting sequined dress! I love that description!

Absolute Cringe-Worthy

2010-03-17T08:21:00.000+07:00

Bizarre, sure. But, Ruscious? Heroine? Come on, Absolute. Are you serious?

Bloody Tuesday

2010-03-16T17:10:00.003+07:00

And they followed through...

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Peaceful Balcony

2010-03-16T09:14:00.006+07:00

Yiddish Tuesday: Yenta

2010-03-16T08:27:00.009+07:00

Yenta (yen′tə): n. A busybody, gossipmonger, usually a woman.

[Following the 1964 Broadway production of Fiddler on the Roof, yenta entered Jewish American lexicon and has also become synonymous with matchmaker after the show's well-meaning but meddlesome marriage broker named Yente, a character originally created by writer Jacob Adler in the 1920's.]

Two well-known yentas:

Beet Fuchsia

2010-03-15T18:13:00.000+07:00

Last week, I made some delicious pureed beet soup. After roasting 4 foil-wrapped beets for about an hour in the oven, I peeled them, diced them, and plopped them in the blender along with a cup of water, a splash of olive oil and white vinegar, a bit of Greek yogurt (to create a beautiful magenta color), and some salt and pepper. A sprinkle of coriander and a bit of avocado...and voila! Dinner is served!

I found the soup hearty and filling enough alone, but if you need a more substantial meal (or you're serving someone who does...) offer some crusty bread and Italian cold cuts or a light summer couscous salad--I made mine with sun-dried tomatoes, basil, pine nuts, chicken, and a lemon vinaigrette. Yum!

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

2010-03-15T17:38:00.005+07:00

The Red Shirt protests have remained peaceful. In fact, when their caravan of pickups and buses loaded with supporters made its way past my office this morning, there was more of a celebratory, Memorial Day parade feeling than a grim march to war. Twangy, upbeat Isaan (northeastern Thailand) music was blaring out of cars and megaphones, and people were smiling, waving, cheering, and generally having a great time.

The only thing that felt a bit threatening to me were the Red Shirts' (ninja) guards, "Defenders of the People", appointed to protect the protesters and fight back if the military makes it necessary. These men were decked out in all black, some with ski masks over their faces, and dark sunglasses, a look resembling a mix between a bank robber and an intimidating highway patrolman.

OK, maybe not so intimidating with his sign language love and the guy behind him hamming it up for my camera.

Here are some more random pictures of regular people showing their support:

Yes, that is an American flag...

As the protesters have not made much progress politically in the past few days, perhaps there will be some action before they pack up and head home on Wednesday, as planned. (Many, tired from the traveling and the heat, have already started leaving despite protests and encouragement from their leaders, according to The Nation.) It seems that the Red Shirts are prepping for some serious bloodshed tomorrow, though of a non-violent kind. How is that possible? The Red Shirt leaders are requesting all protesters donate 1 cc of blood so that tomorrow evening they can pour 1 million cc's (the approximate equivalent to normal blood donations from 2,500 people) around the Government House, Democrat's Headquarters, and the Prime Minister's home. Fears abound regarding the public health aspect of this plan; the Red Cross has refused involvement and warned of disease transmission. Rumors have it that the blood scheme is the Red Shirts' "exit strategy" and a means of saving face. Does this mean all will be quiet on the home front come Wednesday or will the movement drag on and potential for real bloodshed increase?

Squeaky Clean

2010-03-13T09:31:00.002+07:00

How cool is this shower?

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While having my gnarly runner's toenails painted an au courant (or perhaps already passe) hue of "greige", I was flipping through a fashion mag and saw this ad. It brought a smile to my face.

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Fresh, clean, and carefree. I can almost smell the sea.

P.S. No Red Shirt action yet. The city is quiet.

Fish and Shits

2010-03-12T16:43:00.003+07:00

In Thailand, where the weather is steamy and tropical, we have only been able to live vicariously through our connections on the East Coast of the U.S. as they live through serial snowstorms that are severe enough to close schools and offices. Well, I now realize that we have our our version of the snowday here in the politically unstable and colorfully chaotic Land of Smiles.

Following the verdict that called for the seizure of some of the assets of former Prime Minister Thaksin (you can read about the lead-up to the decision in this post), the country has been bracing itself for March 14th, the date chosen for Thaksin supporters ("Red Shirts") around the country to gather en mass in strategic locations in Bangkok to protest the verdict and to oust Abhisit Vejjajiva, the current PM.

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News agencies have varying estimates of how many protesters are expected --ranging from 200,000 to the rally organizers' promise of 1 million. It has been reported that the Red Shirt, many of whom are from poorer northern provinces, are getting paid between 300-1500 baht (approximately US$10-45) to attend the rally. A rumor has also been circulating that families of protesters who are killed in action will receive 1M baht (approximately US$30,000). That being said, it is uncertain is whether the protests will erupt into the violence proposed by Arisman, a second tier Red Shirt leader who, in a January rally, urged protesters to bring one liter of oil each to send a message to the military that if the Red Shirts are harmed "with just one drop of blood then Bangkok will be a sea of fire". It is also possible that violence may be initiated by the "Yellow Shirts" or "Blue Shirts", two other feuding factions.

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As most protesters don't have access to firearms, they have been urged to bring fermented fish stink bombs and bags of poop to protect themselves from the military. These may have the power to be a stronger deterrent than tear gas!

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Just as in the U.S., the reports of an impending disaster have caused a stir in the population. Schools are closed, offices locked up early (even T's company, always ready to weather any storm, declared their closing while we were at lunch due to the approaching Red Shirts), and people are flocking to the grocery stores to stock up on food and water. After all of the hype, I am eager to see if any news-worthy action transpires. Stay tuned!

Powder Days and Powderfinger

2010-03-10T17:21:00.002+07:00

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After college, I lived for a couple of years as a ski bum. It was a life free of challenges, which was exactly what I wanted after spending sixteen years in school. I lived in a community populated by others who were seeking the same thing and soon found myself in a relationship with an Australian (the first of many) who not only didn't want to tax his brain, but may not have even finished high school. It lasted much longer than either of us had anticipated and was replete with thrilling daily ski breaks on the mountain, lazy beer-drinking nights and weekends, and adventurous travel during the off season. In retrospect, what I think I gained most from that relationship was learning about the Australian radio station, Triple J, which compiles annual volumes of the year's "Hottest 100" songs based on listeners' online and SMS votes. Apparently, it's one of the largest public music polls in the world! Most of the songs are pop singles, but there are some sleepers in there by little-known artists, many of whom are Ozzies.

I was looking for last year's compilation to listen to online and, while not available on iTunes, I discovered this blog, where you can listen to Triple J's Hottest 100 Of All Time for free! Yay!

P.S. These poppy Triple J albums make excellent running mixes!

Yiddish Tuesday: Chazzerai

2010-03-09T22:23:00.001+07:00

Chazzerai (khaz-zer-rye*): n. Unsubstantial junk. Literally, pig's food. Can refer to food, trinkets or anything that's cheap or worthless.

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Delicious to some, chazzerai to others. Or, "Gross! What is that chazzerai you're eating? You call that a meal?"

*Note that the "ch" should be pronounced gutterally, at the back of the throat

Hello, Lover!

2010-03-08T18:32:00.002+07:00

When I first started living abroad, I was happy to rough it and make use of what was cheap and locally available. But now, a seasoned expat, I have found as time has gone by that when living abroad, creature comforts and reminders of home become increasingly more important. Little by little, with the opening of international brand stores and perhaps an increased demand for foreign goods, the creature comforts I use to have to schlep back from the US with me in an extra duffel are becoming more widely available here. Until 2007, I was importing tampons since only expensive, baby-sized Playtex were available in Thailand. A couple years ago, I started seeing Cetaphil face wash sold at pharmacies. I discovered with glee that Quaker Oat Squares, my favorite cereal, can be bought in the international grocery store (though a box goes for a whopping US$12!). And now, this weekend, Bangkok welcomed one more of my creature comforts:

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Yes, hello. Welcome. Finally!

Now, I'm just holding out for one of these and my life here will be complete.

Alice in Wonderland

2010-03-07T15:19:00.001+07:00

Yesterday, T and I went to see the much anticipated Alice in Wonderland. We had been looking forward to it since seeing the preview months ago and couldn't wait for the Tim Burton darkness and the Johnny Depp weirdness. However, within a few minutes of the movie beginning, while T was fully engrossed, I was already painfully bored and disappointed.

This telling of Lewis Carroll's fantasy adventure is passionless and flat, leaving the film to rely solely on the gratuitous, not-well-integrated 3D special effects and distracting computer-generated animals. Alice, played by Mia Wasikowska, was two-dimensional and entirely forgettable except for her haunting paleness and perfectly-formed, pouty, tulip lips. Though showing valiant efforts to carry the film from soulless obscurity to a colorful and memorable work of art, even the Mad Hatter, played by Johnny Depp, flaunting his familiar brand of costumed craziness, and the Red Queen, played by Helena Bonham Cater and reminiscent of a Blythe-cum-Chucky doll, could not sustain the plot nor this viewer's interest with their melodrama.

While much of the film has already faded from my memory, the one piece that remains with me is the dress worn by a towering Alice while at the Red Queen's castle. Cobbled together by the queen's peons upon her demand, possibly from curtains, as she suggested, it is eye-catching and feminine with a rockstar edge that the ethereal, bland Alice never seemed to possess.

This shot of Alice's red dress make it look more Martha Washington than rockstar, but in the film, the costume was captivating.

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As a kid, I watched a VHS recording of a 1985 made-for-TV version of Alice in Wonderland over and over again. Though the sets and costuming were very low-budget, all characters were played by real people, which I prefer, and there were musical numbers thrown in, which added a stage-like quality to the production. The cast was star-studded, with a number of 80's TV personalities (Telly Savalas, Sally Struthers, John Stamos, Scott Baio, Sherman Hemsley!), a wacky Carol Channing, a tap-dancing Sammy Davis, Jr., and a melancoly Ringo Star, among others. Below is a clip of the caterpillar, played by Sammy Davis, Jr. and his singing and dancing routine with Alice. Ah, nostalgia.

Human Flesh Search

2010-03-05T18:04:00.006+07:00

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Like most people, when I read George Orwell's futuristic novel, 1984, the premise seemed entirely fictional. The concept of "Big Brother is always watching" was chilling, but with the exception of rough resemblances to true totalitarian governments, it was far from any reality I knew. Orwell intended for his Big Brother to represent a figure head, god-like dictator who, like the Boogie Man, instilled fear in the hearts of civilians, consequently ensuring that they behaved themselves and adhered to the Party's laws.

When Orwell wrote 1984 in the 1940's, he probably never imagined that decades later his fiction would not be so far from reality. On Wednesday, an article in the New York Times, "China's Cyberposse", describes the growing power of cyberspace's version of Orwell's Big Brother. In China, online forums have become meeting places for computer savvy vigilantes. The forums offer a place for people to air their grievances against seemingly anyone who colors outside of the lines of society's implicit rules. With discussions surrounding the issues raised (cheating husbands, animal abusers, child molesters, opinionated bloggers), the angry cybermob gains momentum until someone calls for a lynching, or in their terms a "human flesh search". This is where the frighting consequences of connectivity come into play. Through diligent research and detective work, the web community tracks down all available personal information of the perp, including phone number, address, license plate, work place, friends, family, government ID, etc., and makes it public whilst demonizing the offender, leading to job loss, embarrassment, and ultimately, self-banishment.

The idea of a cyberposse is very similar to Big Brother, potentially keeping citizens in check through its powerful omnipresence and omnipotence. While it's inspiring to see a group of people working together to fight injustices, the human flesh search raises some important questions regarding human rights, particularly personal privacy and the right to due process (which is not considered a right in all parts of the world).

Are cyberposses as law enforcers a wave of the future or will privacy laws and the desire to preserve personal rights stamp out this vigilante movement?

Kingdom of the Little People

2010-03-04T17:44:00.002+07:00

When I saw this article in the New York Times today, I was both kind of horrified and incredibly curious. I have always had a (I admit it, sometimes politically incorrect) fascination with little people, so when I saw that there was an entire theme park in China manned by dwarfs and midgets, I got really excited. T and I were thinking about going trekking in Nepal next month, but maybe we should change our plans and go to Kunming instead.

In all seriousness, the article does raise some interesting points about China and the public's perception of disabled people (this was how little people were referred to in the article, but I not sure it's really appropriate). The park has received a lot of criticism from Western groups like Handicap International and Little People of America, Inc., but the park creator and employees argue that Kingdom of the Little People has created jobs for those who otherwise wouldn't have opportunities and it has created a unique community and support system for the employees. Nevertheless, I find it hard to believe that one actor in a Swan Lake parody, "a crowd pleaser in which male dwarfs dress up in pink tights and tutus and wiggle their derrières", claimed that when the audience clapped, he felt proud. Maybe something got lost in translation.

Kingdom of the Little People: Politically incorrect and offensive or beneficial for the height-challenged people of China?

Mini Chocolate Cupcakes

2010-03-03T18:46:00.001+07:00

Last week, for a colleague's birthday I made mini cupcakes. The recipe was fairly easy. I had made the full recipe (Chocolate Salted-Caramel Mini Cupcakes) once before and wasn't so successful with the caramel part, so this time, I just stuck with plain cupcakes.

I think my (annoyingly unpredictable) oven doesn't heat evenly, causing the cupcakes to grow funny-looking smurf hats, which I end up carving off before decorating.

Vanilla cream with chocolate buttons (some sprinkled with cocoa) and chocolate with shredded coconut.

Today's Happiness Reminder: Giggling ourselves to sleep last night (It was after midnight, so I'm counting it for today!) and meeting T at home today for lunch.

Sea and Sun: Salves for Sadness

2010-03-02T21:20:00.001+07:00

Our weekend at tropical island paradise was just what the doctor ordered. We regrouped after a tiring and awkward trip and remembered that we could still let our guards down and be best friends. We sat under beach umbrellas and read; we floated in the clear water; we trekked to the other side of the island for mid-day drinks and lounging; we had intense intellectual debates about raising children and unconditional love; we watched bad TV; we sat on the beach and watched the sunset; and we laughed. It was the sweetness I had been missing. It's so easy to find when we escape the daily distraction and stresses of our lives in Bangkok. The challenge is to figure out how to maintain that carefree love on a day to day basis.

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I have decided that I want to try to think of one thing every day for which I am grateful. And, not something like "my family" or "my health". That's far too easy. I'm thinking something that made that particular day shiny or sweet or memorable. I think this will help me remember that my life is pretty good, even when things are bad.

Today, I had two Happiness Reminders:

1) When my boss/mentor referred to me as his friend when speaking with a new colleague

2) When I found out that, after more than 2 years of work on it, my graduate thesis was published today and many of my friends and family congratulated me and shared my excitement via Facebook

Yiddish Tuesday: Nu

2010-03-02T20:50:00.001+07:00

Nu (noo): interrogative adverb. Used to ask a variety of question, including "so?", "well?", "what's happening?", or "huh?"

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So? Nu? How was your trip?

New Beginning?

2010-02-27T00:01:00.000+07:00

I have been bad about posting this week. I started a new job and it's been full on --in a good way! My hormones normalized and I've started noticing the sunshine again. Life has returned to being good.

Tomorrow morning, T and I are off to the beach for the long weekend (Monday is a Buddhist holiday). I think we're both hoping that this romantic getaway will help us find each other again.

When I return, I will post photos of and the recipe for the beautiful mini chocolate cupcakes I made for a work friend's birthday. They were a hit and a lot of fun to make.

sunset from bed

Listening for Quiet

2010-02-24T16:22:00.009+07:00

I feel most at ease, introspective, and alive when in nature. It's been too long since I last felt that peace, heard only the wind against my ears, blinked my eyes in the sun, seen no sign of man, and knew myself fully.

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Other ways I find the calm is through yoga and good deeds. I need to do more of both.

Yiddish Tuesday: Hockin A Chainik

2010-02-23T17:46:00.004+07:00

Hockin a chainik (hockin ä chi:'nik): v. to talk nonsense; to talk for the sake of talking; to carry on about something in a boring, long winded manner. (Literally, 'to bang on a teakettle')

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"I get it. You didn't like your soup. Now, stop hockin a chainik!"

Ginger Dreams

2010-02-22T16:44:00.003+07:00

I love the sweet, sad words of this song and the clever visuals of the video. Oh, and the color of her hair! Striking. I've always wondered how my life would be different if I were a redhead.

Oren Lavie - Her morning elegance from Mimì on Vimeo.

Animal Unknown to Science

2010-02-20T15:31:00.004+07:00

I love this 1969 Soviet stop-motion film clip:

P.S. Cheburashka has been the mascot for the Russian Olympic Team since Summer 2004.

Toothpaste Love

2010-02-20T12:00:00.001+07:00

This morning, T left early to play golf. When I awoke hours later, I found this:

Blue Velvet

2010-02-20T11:55:00.001+07:00

Last night I went out for a rare, but much needed girls' night with my friend, K. She's somebody I can imagine being better friends with because she's smart, funny, snarky, and an easy conversationalist. But there's an unfortunate twist that prevents me from totally opening up to her and that is that she works with T. Nevertheless, we can have a great time together, as we did last night.

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We went for dinner and drinks to a relatively new hi-so (a commonly used term here that's short for high-society) hangout called Blue Velvet. Both the exterior and interior are really interesting. It looks like a miniature castle (or dungeon, depending on your mood) with a wooden drawbridge over the stinky klong (Thai for canal).

Inside, the ceilings are low, the lighting is warm and dim, and the velvet chairs are comfortable. While the juxtaposition of medieval with rustic country home is a bit strange, it works.

Perhaps the most clever component of the unique interior is the ceiling above the bar area, which is covered with light bulbs.

The menu has a variety of seafood and meat dishes with a fusion flair. K and I shared the scallops Florentine, which were served in little clams shells, and the chef's recommended tuna and octopus salad, which was a bit mayonnaisey and unimaginative. We both had dory parcels for our mains; while the presentation of the fish left much to be desired (brought to the table in the parchment paper in which it was cooked), the flavors were delicate and perfectly balanced. Combined with excellent service and delightfully strong martinis, it was a great dining experience. I'm looking forward to going back with T to try the sirloin burger.

(unless noted, all photos are from here)

Chin Up and Soldier On

2010-02-19T10:16:00.002+07:00

This morning, when walking out to go to work, I saw this right outside our gate and I felt that everything would be OK:

happiness and good omens in the form of a colorful wagon of flowers

Dewey Decimal

2010-02-18T22:39:00.002+07:00

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I want a card catalog like this. I think it would remind me to read more.

I Surrender

2010-02-18T17:04:00.002+07:00

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I hadn't anticipated feeling so awful. I thought I was so driven that nothing could get in my way. But then love did and the prospect of losing T was just too painful. I try to live my life to avoid regrets and, while I will regret not going back to school soon and not being near my family for the time being, I think I would regret leaving T more. Of course, I keep second guessing myself and wondering if the decision, which I made under duress, to put my needs on the back-burner, was a quick fix to make the hurting stop. Sure, it did the trick, but has it created a false sense of security? Will resentment and regret come seeping in? And, if so, how long can I last in this charade?

To lead a fulfilling life, Freud said all we need is love and work. Someone later added "play" to the equation, creating an image of a three-legged stool, which is perfectly balanced when all three components are present and strong. Though my job may not be perfect, all three legs of the stool in my life are there, propping me up.

Be glad of life because it gives you a chance to love, and to work and to play and to look up at the stars.

~Henry Vandyke

For Love or Money

2010-02-17T18:19:00.001+07:00

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If a modern woman doesn't have a thoroughly modern man who will make sacrifices, move across the world and support her as she pursues her life calling, how is she to choose between career and love?

T and I may be on the verge of breaking up because of this predicament.

My case: I'm done with Bangkok. I have a good job, but find it limited and limiting. I have many acquaintances and activity partners, but no true friends. I miss my family. And I want to go back to school in order to put myself on track for a fulfilling career. I have put the effort in, looked for a new job, gone on numerous "dates" with potential friends, and Skyped more with my family, but it just isn't doing the trick.

T's case: T has begun to like his job more than he use to (when he told me he didn't want to stay in Thailand for much longer) and, coming up on his four-year mark, he feels more like a permanent member of the company than ever before. He also places huge importance on money and lifestyle, which goes a long way in Thailand. Though he doesn't have many friends here, he says he doesn't need them the way I do. And, g-chatting and once/year visits with friends in U.S. is sufficient for him.

The long and the short of it is that after making a lot of sacrifices by moving across the world and putting in an effort to enjoy life in Bangkok, I want to move back to the U.S. and T doesn't.

After three hours of tears and a restless sleep last night, I am beginning to wonder if maybe I should back down and decide that I love him more than my need for an inspiring career. Is it worth throwing away a three-year relationship for the possibility of a new career? But then, I backpedal and tell myself that that would be unfair to me and I ask myself if I really want a life with a man who believes his needs trump mine and money is more important than love. And I wonder if I could live the life that T's mother, his role model, the trailing spouse-turned-late-in-life-career woman has led. Would I get bored? Would I be resentful? Would I have regrets? Are love, marriage, babies, and a job that pays enough to fulfill me?

I recognize that this is out of context and, despite the picture I paint in the midst of this turmoil, T really is a wonderful, sweet, caring man. And that's the reason I don't want to lose him.

I just keep reminding myself that no matter how it all pans out, everything happens for a reason and good things will come my way. Eventually. Because they always do.

Hug Me

2010-02-16T15:54:00.001+07:00

Smart thinking, Dr. Pillow Reinventor! As corny/creepy as this is, I kind of want one. (Unfortunately, the bulk pack of two is sold out. Shoot.)

According to Overstock, the Hug Me Pillow is "the perfect snuggling companion", providing "comfort as well as peace of mind."

Code Yellow

2010-02-16T15:40:00.012+07:00

(Note: Don't let this post, a rare entre into politics, alienate you!)

With the Thai political situation about to get messy again, I decided to beef up and get up to speed on the current state of things. I have been quite bad about staying abreast of politics here since they seem so illogical and irrational sometimes and I find it difficult to remain interested. I do end up feeling pretty dumb when someone asks me about what's happening here and I bumble my way through an answer, hoping that the little bit I know if volumes more than the questioner knows.

So, join me for a brief crash course on what's happening right now. Learn a bit about what's happening in this far-away kingdom under the facade of sunny beaches, smiling people, and delicious food. Dig a bit deeper, impress your friends with your obscure knowledge of Thai politics, and be ahead of the curve because breaking news is just 10 days away! Information below is just a sliver of the big picture, but I hope it will provide us with a solid foundation -- enough of one so that I won't look stupid the next time a visitor asks me about the state of affairs here.

This post is all about the chaos created by this man, Thaksin Shinawatra.

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Thaksin (pronounced TACK-sin) Shinawatra, the business man/former Prime Minister/one of the richest people in Thailand, is due to stand trial next week. He was deposed in a bloodless military coup in 2006 and he and his family were subsequently charged with corruption on various accounts (nepotism, conflict of interest, tax evasion, muzzling the media, etc.).

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Thaksin's fall from power rapidly divided the country and led to a number of mass protests by the Red Shirts (supporters of Thaksin and the National United Front of Democracy Against Dictatorship) and the Yellow Shirts (anti-Thaksin, People's Alliance for Democracy--aka PAD--supporters who were responsible for the famously disruptive take-over of the Thailand's main international airport in Bangkok in November 2008). (These color alliances have left non-political Thailand residents with two fewer hues to wear so as to avoid being caught in the fray.)

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While Thaksin's political legacy is vast and includes attempts to alleviate rural poverty; the founding of the Thai Rak Thai ("Thais who love Thais") populist party, to represent the "common man"; the settling up of Thailand's first universal healthcare system; waging a war against drugs, and providing addicts with treatment programs, he is also known to be responsible for human rights violations, election fraud, and the questionable acquisition of great wealth while in office.

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The money earned during Thaksin's time in office came mostly from the sale of Thakin's family's shares of the Shin Corp, a leading Thai telecommunications company, to the investment branch of the Singapore government. As a result of the sale, on which the family did not pay taxes, Thaksin was accused by some of his countrymen as a sell-out, relinquishing national assets to a foreign government. The sale of the Shin Corp coupled with Thakin's facilitation of the purchase of prime real estate by his now ex-wife's, led to a review by the Thai Assets Examination Committee. The AEC decided that Thaksin has abused his authority as PM in order to benefit his business interests and, consequently, the committee froze 76 billion baht ($2.2 billion) of Thakin's assets.

Thaksin's ex-wife, along with his three children

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Thaksin has managed to keep a relatively low profile due to self-imposed exile and the help of Nicaraguan and Montenegran passports after the government revoked his Thai passport to restrict his movement. Nevertheless, rumor has it that he has been engineering and financially supporting the Red Shirt movement from abroad. Next week, on February 26th, the Thai Supreme Court will rule on his asset-seizure case. It is not known what the outcome will be, whether protests (there will definitely be some colorful ones) will be peaceful or get out of hand, but the Thai government and police are gearing up for mayhem.

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Yiddish Tuesday: Kvell

2010-02-16T09:23:00.001+07:00

Kvell: v. to be overcome with pride, to gush

Definitely a first born. You can tell because Grandma is kvelling.
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Jewelry, Repurposed

2010-02-15T22:53:00.005+07:00

Tonight, when futilely looking for a long silver chain in my disastrously messy jewelry drawer, I opted to clip together a couple of shorter ones and added an extra charm to hide the clasp:

The stone is Larimar, found in the Dominican Republic in the 70's. It was named after the discoverer's daughter, Larissa, and "mar", the Spanish word for sea. The fist was on a charm bracelet that my grandmother use to wear. Apparently, it protects the wearer from the evil eye. (Phew!)

I've "borrowed" a couple of beautiful brooches from my mom over the years, but haven't really worked out how to wear then without looking dowdy. Here is my recent fix:

Antique turquoise and silver brooch pinned to a bra-strap headband. Love it!

V-Day

2010-02-15T09:46:00.015+07:00

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The French macarons turned out better than expected. Though they were a bit chewier than intended, a day of refrigeration seemed to firm them up a bit. After quite a bit of web research, I decided to melded the recipes and advice of the wise chefs at What's for lunch, Honey and Kitchen Musings. I made a variety of the little almond sandwiches, filling some with chocolate ganache, some with Nutella, and some with lemon curd and presented them this morning to T. He was quite happy with them, but I don't think he's aware what a feat these cookies were. A veritable labor of love.

(No, I did not bake these in the toaster oven! That's just my ghetto cooling rack.)

T, in typical and predictable form, started the day by apologizing for not getting me anything. He then proceeded to cook me breakfast, humor me by going to listen to the Bangkok Symphony Orchestra in the park (armed with Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, his favorite wine, and a baguette), and then cook me a simple but delicious pasta dinner with homemade tomato sauce. Sadly, I did not document the day's cooking.

All in all, it was a relaxing day and I think we both felt special and loved.

Christmas for Girlfriends

2010-02-12T18:14:00.003+07:00

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FRIENDS: So, what are you guys doing for Valentine's Day?

ME: (eyebrows raised, looking at T expectantly) Yeah, what are we doing for Valentine's Day?

T: (avoiding eye contact) Since when did Valentine's Day become Christmas for Girlfriends?

The Water's Nice

2010-02-12T11:10:00.002+07:00

I stumbled upon Mark Adamson's photography here. He often uses those new hipster cameras, resulting in washed-out pictures with a retro feel. His work has a lonely and voyeuristic quality, leaving the viewer with a sense of sadness and curiosity.

Smell Your Way to Sex

2010-02-11T13:20:00.003+07:00

I just read this interesting article in the New York Times about aphrodisiacs and what the "experts" --nutritionists and smell psychologists (yes, there is a field dedicated solely to the psychology of smell!)-- are saying these days. Here's the skinny:

*The smell of cherries or grilling meat over charcoals kills the mood for women.

*The combined scent of doughnuts and licorice make men go wild, as does the combo of lavender and pumpkin pie.

*For women, the smell of baby powder or the combined smells of Good&Plenty candy with cucumbers or with banana nut bread does the trick.

*Chili peppers make your heart beat fast and make you sweat and flush, mimicking arousal.

*Avocado is sensual. Amy Reily, author of an aphrodisiac cookbook called Fork Me, Spoon Me, suggests guacamole as a love potion because of its color, texture, taste, and aroma.

*Reiley also uses saffron, mint, and vanilla to set the mood.

*And sadly, chocolate is overrated. A 130-pound person would have to eat 25 pounds of chocolate or 19.2% of her body weight to feel the euphoric effects.

The bottom line:

Foods are often thought of as aphrodisiacs because of their roles in cultures and history (i.e. honey), their luxuriousness (i.e. Champagne), the manner in which they are eaten (i.e. oysters), or their resemblance to genitalia (i.e. figs).

Basically, it's all subjective. And, it should be noted that the information in the article regarding smells was garnered from a single study and so cannot be considered conclusive evidence. Therefore, take what you want from it, play around to discover your own personal aphrodisiac, and have fun!

Though not necessarily an aphrodisiac, I'm planning on making some sexy, fancy French macaroons for V-Day. I've never attempted them before. I hope they're a success since T loves them!

pumpkin pie image via

I Hate February

2010-02-10T17:52:00.003+07:00

I was walking to the Skytrain yesterday and pondering why I have been feeling so blue lately and then it occurred to me: It's February,

The Month of Misery.

Since my first year at college I have suffered through Februaries. Wherever I am in the world, be it the depths of gray wintery doldrums or the creeping oppression of tropical heat, during February I find myself held captive in a constant state of PMS, a month-long funk that will only disappear when the Ides are in sight. I'm not sure the cause of this state, though I have many hypotheses --none of which really feels suitable:

*February is No Man's Land Month--it's after the excitement of the holidays and long before another vacation period. Simply put, there's no light at the end of the tunnel.

*Our primordial selves believe we should be in some state of hibernation during this time, just as our cavemen forefathers did. That means we should be leading low-impact lives; reading, sleeping, watching movies, and hunkering down under comforters next to fires. But not eating rancid meat. We have evolved.

*Following the start of the new year, we feel the pressure to keep the slate clean and stay committed to resolutions made. After a month of trying to accomplish the lofty goals set, disappointment, frustration, resignation, or some combination sets in.

So, after years of trying to understand and crawl out this February hole, I have resigned myself to just being patient, surfing the waves of frequent mood changes, and waiting it out. March will come soon enough.

In the meantime, little things like this make me smile:

Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

Stylish and Sneaky

2010-02-09T17:57:00.003+07:00

I want this.

hardcover BookBook laptop case from Twelve South

Yiddish Tuesday: Kvetch

2010-02-09T11:23:00.002+07:00

Kvetch: n. complainer; v. to complain

"Sorry I've been kvetching so much; this sweater vest is just so itchy!"

(Other uses: "Stop being such a kvetch!" or "All you ever do is kvetch.")

Yawn...How to Shake This 6pm?

2010-02-08T15:13:00.004+07:00

via

After a 6 a.m. wake up, a 6K morning run, 60 minutes of the Super Bowl (with homemade waffles a la T), and a planned 6K evening run, I am definitely feeling like it's 6:30 according to this clock. Oy. And it's only Monday!

Make Monday a bit more interesting by entering to win a Fuji Instax Mini Camera or The SLR Sloop Camera Bag at Creature Comforts. Contest ends today, so hurry!

Soapbox: Public Sniffles

2010-02-08T14:42:00.003+07:00

Photo by Andrew Davidhazy, School of Photo Arts and Sciences/RIT.

I get infuriated when children cough and sneeze without covering. It's even more infuriating when adults do it. Riding the Skytrain, walking through malls, making my coffee. It happens all around me. And I feel personally offended. How dare you subject me to your sickness! It seems that, in spite the SARS and swine flu epidemics, the germ theory has not been fully integrated into the Thai public's understanding of disease transmission. If the Thai Ministry of Health doesn't get on the case, I think a guerrilla campaign should be waged. Posters, graffitti, megaphones!

In the meantime, do your part and cough and sneeze into the crook of your elbow. Because, really, how often do your open a door or shake hands using the inside of your elbow? If you must sneeze in your hand, for the good of all pleasepleaseplease don't hold onto that pole on the Skytrain!

Hair Artistry

2010-02-06T21:20:00.003+07:00

I want this.

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Smart vs. Intellectual

2010-02-06T00:23:00.002+07:00

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T and I just got into a "discussion" (aka fight) about the difference between smart and intellectual. Call me snooty, but I resonate with the people we meet who I deem "Intellectuals". That means they read for pleasure, discuss and debate ideas in a natural and curious ways, and are interested in learning and thinking. To me, being smart just means that people read, absorb and file away information rather than processing, synthesize, questioning, and discussing it. Intellect takes work, curiosity, and role modeling. Smart take discipline and an ability to read for facts coupled with the capacity to remember them.

I come from a family of highly intellectual people, around whom I often felt inferior to when I was growing up. Now, as an adult, I realize that these types of people are the ones who push me, who encourage me to think, who shake my brain out of its atrophying state.

T took offense during out discussion. He thought that I was drawing a line between his friends --with whom we rarely, if ever, have mind-blowing or brain stretching conversations-- and my new friend, by whom I think he feels intimidated even thought they seem to me to be the most non-judgmental and welcoming of people. Privately, I think T is smart, thought when pushed can put on the intellectual hat. It just doesn't come naturally to him.

But when he puts on that hat, damn is he sexy.

While I have not allowed our different ways in this regard to interfere with our relationship, I worry that this approach to friends and conversation and life will be a growing problem for us. Or, are there reasonable and thoughtful ways to push it, again, to the background?

Things of Beauty

2010-02-05T23:58:00.004+07:00

Red door in the morning. Across the street from home.

Birds of peace on the hotel room's wall, Khao Yai.

Dusk in Khao Yai National Park.

'Tis a Gift to Be Simple

2010-02-04T09:52:00.002+07:00

My Dad's birthday is today. As the kids have grown up, my family has become increasingly lame about material acknowledgments of birthdays. I have taken to sending thoughtful cards or emails and giving small ,Thai handicraft, token gifts to the honorees when I next see them. I have been thinking about my Dad's card for more than a week. Since he is a fan of Hemingway and spent some formative college and post-college summers in Paris, I created this:

A graphic designer would have done a much better job. I know it's not amazing, but it is heartfelt.

Inebriated Poultry

2010-02-03T10:16:00.005+07:00

I made dinner last night and I think it was my best effort yet. By far.

I am so proud.

I followed the recipe at Epicurious for Red Wine Braised Rabbit with Sage Polenta, but substituted chicken thighs for the bunny. I also made a few more minor adjustments to the recipe, including brining the chicken for a couple of hours (see this helpful page from Cook's Illustrated), adding a carrot with the onion, substituting chicken broth for water in the polenta recipe and adding a little bit of butter to it at the end.

It was easy to make and required little "active" time since, after preparing all of the ingredients, all you really have to do is throw it all in a pot and let it stew for an hour.

Since we both like to have salad after our entrees at dinnertime, I threw together some mixed greens with avocado and dried figs.

I'm telling you, this was a five-star meal and anyone you make it for will be putty in your hands.

Yiddish Tuesday: Schmutz

2010-02-02T20:14:00.005+07:00

Schmutz (Shmoots): n. dirt, filth

"What's that schmutz on your shirt?"

Pocket Pecker

2010-02-02T16:09:00.000+07:00

From all accounts I have heard and read, sex toys are illegal in Thailand. (Though, let it be noted that you can buy giant dildos freely from street vendors who also sell brass knuckles, tasers, and pirated porn.) So, you can imagine our surprise and the hilarity that ensued when, after lunch in the basement of a shiny, new, and "healthy lifestyle" complex in central Bangkok, we came across a store selling these vibrators transparently masquerading as personal, hand-held shoulder massagers:

Apparently, Thrive is a Japanese brand of body massagers, promoting "Relaxing Time".

"Relax muscles temporarily, only for yourself"

Thai Me Up in Guilt and Shame

2010-02-01T15:46:00.000+07:00

ฉัน ไม่ พูด ภาษา ไทย.

I don't speak Thai. 

I am one of those embarrassing expats. I admit it. I can't speak Thai. When I first moved here, I looked down on people like me. "How colonialist to live in a country as an expat and not bother learning the language," I'd rant. I have now lived here for almost four years and my Thai language skills have not progressed beyond the taxi/restaurant competency level. I took lessons for a few months and made moderate headway, but then life got in the way and the future was up in the air. My mentality has been: Why invest a lot of time and energy and money in learning a language I find difficult, aurally unpleasant, and rather useless outside of the country if I will be leaving soon? But I have been thinking that way almost since the beginning. When it comes down to it, I'd rather study French or Spanish or Italian.

I'd like to rid myself of this constant guilt/inertia surrounding Thai lessons (or lack thereof). (I know the easy answer would be to start lessons. I assure you that I have planned on doing so for months now. No dice. Yet.) I'm ready to hit the road and return to a country where the language is accessible, familiar or simply beautiful and where I have an easier time relating to people and have more in common with my peers. Being closer to my family would be a bonus, too.

So, with my limited Thai skills and the utter foreignness of tonal languages, I find communicating here a bit like trying to remember a forgotten password. You know there are only so many variations and you begin trying them all, making singulars into plurals, changing punctuation and numbers, adding capital letters. When I speak Thai, if my first attempt elicits a blank stare, I embark on trying other permutations --changing to a rising tone or a falling tone, softening some consonants and making others stronger-- until a spark of recognition appears. I then breath a sigh of relief, grateful that I have broken the code, but, feel a pang of remorse at not having taken the time to learn the native language.

Yes, I am ashamed.

Image via

Reunited

2010-01-31T21:48:00.002+07:00

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Lost and Found

2010-01-30T12:46:00.001+07:00

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The work of street photographer, Vivian Maier, was unknown until a man named John Maloof stumbled upon her negatives at a furniture and antiques auction in Chicago and decided to make a blog (and soon a book) about her. She was a strong, independent French woman who emigrated to the US as a child in the 1930's. "She was a Socialist, a Feminist, a movie critic, and a tell-it-like-it-is type of person. She learned English by going to theaters, which she loved. She wore a men's jacket, men's shoes and a large hat most of the time. She was constantly taking pictures, which she didn't show anyone."

Not only was she a quirky, hip lady, she was also a talented artist.

Peace and Quiet

2010-01-29T21:55:00.001+07:00

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With T in Vietnam all week, I have remembered how much I like being alone. I'm sure if it were a regular occurrence, I wouldn't appreciate it so much, but now and then it's really nice to enjoy my own company. This week I've taken pleasure in:

A quiet apartment (More often than not, when home, T usually has the TV on. Loud. I can now completely relate to my parents' reactions when I watched TV as a kid--which, I must say was infrequent since the TV-watching rules were pretty strict.);

Flexibility to eat whatever I want whenever I want (T's a meat and potatoes kind of guy and more of a "live to eat" person than an "eat to live" one like me and that often limits dinner options.);

Freedom to watch Gossip Girl (My guilty pleasure. Don't judge.) without feeling guilty for not spending or without wanting to spend the evening with T;

And privacy to write here (my little secret, mwahahahaha!)

Nevertheless, I'm excited for T's return tomorrow night. As much as alone time is nice, there's nothing sweeter than dinner for two, movies in bed, and a shoulder to fall asleep on.

Lust

2010-01-29T20:34:00.001+07:00

You know that old trick of making an ordinary statement sound funny/titilating by adding "in bed" at the end of it? (For example: "I like wearing high heels...in bed.") Well, when shopping I tend to add "in black" to the end of all my comments. (For example: "Ooh, I love that gray jacket...in black.") Sadly, thus is the case with this perfectly rockstar- chic bag I stumbled across this Knot Group N/S Hobo by Olivia Harris by Joy Gryson at The Cut:

I love the smooth leather, simplicity, size, and subtle edginess If it were black and $300 cheaper, I would be poorer and happier..in style.

London Score

2010-01-28T22:49:00.008+07:00

I bought one thing for myself in London (with the exception of some Valrhona dark chocolate): a Kate Sheridan clutch at Spitalfields Market. Kate is a UK designer with a 6-year-old company that produces bi-yearly collections of "off beat, poppy and unique bags and accessories". I was in the market for a small bag to take out on the town and for rockstar apparel (of course). The bag I chose is more Anthropologie than rockstar and maybe more daytime than nighttime. But I love it nonetheless. It's a medium sized leather clutch with navy blue on one side and, on the other, a navy and off-white print of owls sitting in clouds. It has an antiquey looking brass clasp and--best of all--I can fit all my junk in it without paring down my wallet to the bare necessities. (T is in Vietnam for the week and has the camera, but once he's back, I will post a photo.) When I met E for dinner last night, I took it out for its virgin ride on the town; upon seeing me/it, E said I looked very chic. I couldn't believe it since I thought I looked like a slob with my messy hair and yellow pregnant-lady-style Target tee. It must have been the clutch. It's magical.

In my online search for a photo of my new bag, I stumbled upon Allison Ball's charming lino prints.

Roselle is Another Name for Hibiscus

2010-01-28T20:58:00.003+07:00

I just learned that today. All those times when I've wondered about the origins of the roselle drinks sold on the streets of Bangkok and found on menus in restaurants! It's simply sweetened hibiscus tea, which I also learned is great for treating hypertension, high cholesterol, and water retention, and is high in vitamin C (though, the sugar added by the sweet-tooth Thais probably decreases the drink's nutritional value). I discovered this after looking in the mirror this morning and discovering my face was puffy, my eyelids heavy. Perhaps it's the crazy jet-lag fatigue I'm experiencing (I fell asleep at my desk yesterday) or the fact that my body is so turned upside down by the time changes that my eating habits have been erratic. Anyway, I realize I need to drink more water, stop eating so much sugar and salt, and reinstate daily runs.

A bit of hibiscus tea would be nice, too.

In Love with London

2010-01-27T22:22:00.008+07:00

London. It's kind of like New York, only better. The people are polite, the museums are free, and the streets are pedestrian-friendly.

People do nice things with window boxes.

There are fire-engine red double-decker buses with fuzzy plaid seats on which you can sit right above the driver with your nose pressed up against the windshield, watching the ever-present rain.

Or you can eat dinner in them. My bff from college, J, is studying at LSE and took me to Rootmaster on my first night in town. It's a fun vegan restaurant (or "bustaurant, as they call it) in an empty lot. The first floor has been converted into a kitchen and the top floor has a few tables. At night they play Hotel Costes compilations and light the tables with votives. Very sexy.

One of many "circuses". Picadilly? Oxford? I don't know...

The Tate Modern: One of many of the city's free museums.

Even the ugly things seem pretty:

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep !
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

~William Wordsworth's Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802

Yiddish Tuesday: Shaina maideleh

2010-01-26T23:21:00.005+07:00

This week's word is:

Shaina maideleh (SHAY-neh MAY-del-eh): n. Pretty girl

Sophie Blackall illustrates the messages people post in the "Missed Connections" section of Craigslist. Blackall describes these notes as "the modern equivalents" of "messages in bottles, smoke signals, letters written in the sand". Here is the text that inspired this drawing:

Tuesday, October 6, 2009
-m4w (L train to Manhattan)
You were reading Catch-22 on the subway this morning. I have never seen such a beautiful profile. I wanted to say hi, but then you’d turn towards me and I wouldn’t be able to look at your profile anymore. You were so into your book, I don’t think you noticed me falling in love with you. But I thought I’d ask, just in case.

P.S. I returned last night from a wonderful, albeit brief time in London and will post about it later.

Yiddish Tuesday: Mishigas

2010-01-19T09:59:00.002+07:00

To pay tribute to my heritage and expand my vocabulary, I will post a new Yiddish word here every week. (Unfortunately, the days of the week don't lend themselves to any alliteration in this case, so I randomly opted for Tuesday since I happened to feel inspired today.)

Mishigas (mi′shah gäs): craziness, chaos, nonsense

Pearls of Wisdom

2010-01-18T22:07:00.004+07:00

Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it towards others.

- Etty Hillesum

In this crazy world, where cynicism vies with greed to corrupt our good intentions, only love and caring and good works matter.

-My mom

Oops

2010-01-17T11:38:00.007+07:00

I have been a slacker. Big time. And it's not for want of material. More because I've been intermittently sick and uninspired/lazy. Bottom line: I need to be much more disciplined about posting.

OK, pep talk done.

So, on New Year's Eve, in light of the disasters in Bangkok on December 31st 2007 and 2008, we opted to throw a house party. It was a low-key, grown-up affair. with about 20 or so people. Our house guest cooked his native Italian food and all were happy and well-fed. Not to mention well-watered with many bottles of champagne, wine, and T's failed attempt at infusing a watermelon with vodka (throw in some jello shots and we could have had a classy version of a frat party...)

The centerpiece

The chef and T hard at work in the kitchen.

We were up until 5am. I think that's the latest I've stayed up since my early Bangkok partying years. Fun times. But, the next morning was not so fun. We had a 1pm plane to catch to Krabi in southern Thailand. Once there, we had ample opportunity to recuperate. We spent a couple of days in Railay where we did some rock climbing and hiking and met up with some friends.

T aka "Big Monkey Man", as one of the guides called him

A tiny frog in our bathroom in Railay

We agreed that the Anyavee Hotel was livable and clean, but left a bit to be desired and so opted to leave a day early and head to our next destination for some luxury: Anantara Si Kao. While the others went scuba diving and snorkeling, I sat on the shore or by the pool and read, read, and read some more. It was the epitome of relaxation.

The view from our room at the Anantara

I finished The Girl Who Played with Fire, which was an engaging page-turner like its prequel, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but it was equally long and unedited and used many of the same literary tricks. Still, I want to read the last in the Millennium Trilogy, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.

Today, while T is off golfing, I'm going to get ready for London! Yes, that's right, we're off to colder climates this week for our friends' wedding. It will be a very short, 4-day trip, but I am so excited! I'm arriving before T and leaving after him so that I have time to kick it with my bff, J, from college. Whoohoo! Today's plan is to search for little gifts for J and for the other friends who we're staying with (and who were our house guests over New Years). I'm thinking:

homemade granola for all
some (requested) wooden bracelets for J
some of this soap for our hosts
and, I was also told about a fancy Japanese chocolate shop in Paragon Mall; if I can find it, we'll bring some sweets

Hopefully, I can get my lardass in gear and go for a run today since I haven't gone in more than a week! Eek!

And I'm off!

Resolution?

2010-01-08T19:51:00.004+07:00

Is it too late? It's already January 8th and I am now just starting to think about New Year's resolutions.

don't brush my teeth so hard
blog regularly (oops!)
send snailmail
(this is a big one) think about life after Thailand and plan for what comes next

Time away from life here was really nice. I loved being with my family and was painfully reminded that it sucks living so far away from them. We had so much fun together...

wandering Soho, Nolita and Central Park

shopping

drinking champagne

cooking and eating amazing food

going to the movies

watching dvds at home

reading the NY Times over coffee, homemade scones, and bagels

having a simple, yet sweet Christmas

hiking through the snow

generally enjoying each other's company

Snow White

2009-12-21T09:26:00.009+07:00

My arrival was sweet and made me feel loved and welcomed. My mom met me at the airport armed with a down jacket and cashmere scarf for me. I don't know which I was happier to see, my mom or the warm goods, as I was freezing before even walking outside! We went immediately to Starbucks where my dad, fresh from a root canal, met us for coffee. After catching up and laughing for an hour, we decided to go pick up some DVDs from the library in preparation for the imminent snowstorm and then go see a matinee. "Avatar" was the choice, surprisingly, since my parents are usually into more high-brow films. In fact, I'm not sure if they (ok, just my mom--she's the naysayer) have ever seen a movie that's received a lot of press mostly because of its special effects. Though it was a bit on the long side, we all loved it and my folks especially got a kick out of the fact that it was 3D. And the special effect were amazing.

I arrived hours before the storm hit and, this morning, awoke to a winter wonderland.

I am relieved to not be too jet-lagged. I managed to sleep all night and only woke up at 8:30 when I heard my dad walking around outside my room. The morning was ideal with a run on the treadmill, looking out onto the snowy backyard, and coffee, matzos brie, and light conversation while reading the Sunday Times. Sunday mornings are what I miss most living so far away.

Later, we all met my sister, J, at King Sauna where we proceeded to have a delightfully lazy and relaxing afternoon, walking around naked with other women in the "wet room" (sounds gross, I know) where there were showers, hot tubs of various temperature, a steam room, and a few beds for getting scrubs and massages.

King Sauna

J and I got scrubs. Whoa! These beefy, bathing suit clad Korean ladies scoured every last inch of our bodies until little gray pearls of dead skin were covering us and the plastic-sheeted bed. Then, the ladies dumped bucks of hot water on us, spun us around and shampooed our hair. And I thought Thailand was good!

The next few hours, the four of us met up and ducked into various saunas (amethyst, carbon, ice, etc.) promising everything from healing toothaches, to stopping skin from itching, to curing depression. We worked up quite a hunger with all of the temperature changes and sweating, so we headed to the cafe and shared bibimbop and dumplings.

It was an excellent way to spend the afternoon.

The day was topped off with traditional Sunday night aperatifs (aka "Drinky-Winky Time"). Vodka martinis or "brown stuff" (whiskey or scotch) with a plate of cheese and crackers and pate, olives and nuts. I was in heaven.

The offerings at Drinky-Winky Time are usually so good that I often ruin my appetite for dinner. And so was the case tonight. Too bad since my mom had made a delicious vegetable soup (as usual on Sunday nights) and J made some cornbread.

A perfect day

Abscess Makes the Fart Go Honda

2009-12-19T07:20:00.004+07:00

6.5 hours down, 15+ to go. I am sitting in the ANA lounge in Tokyo awaiting boarding of the next and final leg of my trip back to the U.S. I am beyond tired. That kind of fatigue reminiscent of college all-nighters. Slow-sticky thought processes, dry mouth, strange combo of nausea and hunger, etc.

The past few days have been chock full of activity and preparations. T's birthday as on Thursday, so to celebrate his final hours of 31-hood, I took him out for dinner at Water Library. The place is an interesting concept with a two- page menu of imported waters and a swanky feel with dark lighting, white linens, and big windows. The centtral feature of the place was the floor-to-ceiling tower of water bottles.

via

Though the atmosphere was date-y, sexy, romantic (even though the picture windows looked out on the highway and the restaurant is housed in a mall), the chef tried far too hard to be creative with the food. The dishes ended up being too busy, visually and for my palate.

Pork loin with various accoutrement, including cabbage-beet slaw, baby

peas, apples and apple sauce, and something they claimed was sweet

potato gnocchi, but really just tasted like little balls of Parmesan.

Mixed berries that ended up being served like this. Looks like a mess!

White balsamic reduction, merlot sorbet, and raspberry gel along with

a few other additions. Far less appealing that T's molten chocolate cake.

Nevertheless, we had a nice evening without distraction.

In love.

On T's actually birthday, there was a Mexican lunch with his co-workers to which he asked me to come and then dinner with his parents at the JW Marriott's New York Steakhouse. Mmmmmmmmeat! It was good.

T is a such a gentleman. He always accompanies me to the airport and hangs out with me until I have to go through immigration. He carries (or rather, pulls) my bag. He presses me to buy snacks for the plane even though I know I won't want anything extra. He sweetly asks the employee at the check-in counter whether I can get upgraded. And he sneaks kisses on the escalator. This man is gold.

I am Your Domestic Goddess. Say It.

2009-12-16T14:32:00.008+07:00

That's what I said to T when he came home from work last night before we headed out for dinner to an Italian place around the corner. I was (and still am) so proud of the jars of granola. Plus, in preparation for a possible post-dinner tea party with a visiting friend, I made dough for the best chocolate chip cookies. Really. These are tried and tested and certainly better than Toll House. The secret is in the sea salt. The New York Times printed the recipe here last year. Now, mind you, my prep was last minute and I found myself without cake flour and a bit short on brown sugar, so I simply substituted regular flour and supplemented with white sugar. And, as far as I could tell, it didn't make much of a difference. After dinner, I took the dough out of the fridge to bake, though the recipe calls for 24-36 hours in the fridge. Again, no difference was noticed by T nor the throngs of kvelling co-workers who ate them for breakfast this morning and cursed me for ruining their diets.

One thing I love about living in Thailand is that Thais don't know from baked goods. Their chocolate desserts are just brown and flavorless. Their cookies are crunchy and all sugar. The typical apartment doesn't even have a functioning oven. So, I feel like a superstar when I bring cookies or cakes or scones or any homemade treat into the office. People are just FLOORED that something so delicious can be made by a regular person.

My boss had nothing for me to do today, so I left early and am determined to get some packing done before I head out for a run with my friend E and then a pre-birthday (T's) dinner date. Gogogo!

Ho Ho Homemade Granola!

2009-12-15T17:04:00.006+07:00

With recipe in hand, this morning, I went scouting for the wholesome goodness that is needed to make my mom's granola. Success! I found everything except soy nuts, so was pretty happy. I even managed to find the jars I had my heart set on (and they were only B89)!

Jane's Granola

6-8 c rolled oats

1 c each: unsalted sunflower seed, soy nuts, sesame seeds, wheat germ, unsweetened coconut, nuts

1 c honey

1 c vegetable oil

1 tsp vanilla

1 c raisins or other dried fruit

Toast oats for 10 minutes at 350 degrees
Mix with dry ingredients
Add honey, oil, and vanilla and mix thoroughly with hands
Roast for 20-25 minutes at 350 in two batches, stir ocassionally
Remove from oven and add raisins
Spoon into jars and cool with lids off

I added one cup of chopped dates in addition to the raisins.

The recipe made less than I had hoped, filling only four jars.

Handmade gift cards. B10 each at a street fair.

Ta da!

***

On another note, T and I had a talk last night. He is going to keep his smoking to a bare minimum and try to wear the patch when I'm around. I felt hopeful when he said he was thinking that when he's ready to quit, he's considering using prescription drugs to help him along. This is a huge turn around from his previous position of only subscribing to the use of Allen Carr's book on the road to quitting. (I HATE Allen Carr.) I know that success is much more likely when medication is used in conjunction with counseling, so this change thrills me.

Whoo. I'm done with my rant. I hope Santa brings me a cigarette-free T for Christmas this year.

Red in the Face

2009-12-14T16:04:00.006+07:00

Wow. I feel like I can breath for the first time in weeks. It's been non-stop action between work, parties, and traveling. T and I got in a doozy of a fight last night. There were cold, measured monologues that apparently sounded like college theses (me) and blank stares and fake falling asleep (T). I was so peeved that I attempted to use a tactic I employed when I was sent to my room as a kid: I stood alone in front of a mirror and quietly tensed every muscle in my body until my face began to turn from beet red to a deep purple.

This is how I felt on the inside

Then I let go. Fully. Took a deep breath. Felt more relaxed. But this time, I was punished with a painful muscle spasm in my back when I awoke this morning.

And then there were tears. Alone in the dark. Sitting on the couch and watching the blinking lights of the highrises across the way. Breath in two three. Breath out two three.

I am a hollow reed...

Now, you're probably wondering what was the catalyst that made our sugary love turn sour, our smooth sailing turn rocky? It was, sadly, predictable, as the crux of the fight was the same as it's always been: T's cigarette smoking. I don't want to be with a smoker for so many reasons: I don't want to raise children who become smokers; I subscribe to the belief that your body is a temple and have a hard time understanding why someone would willingly put their health in danger and shorten their time with the people they love; and of course, it smells bad. I think there's another part, too: I see the addiction as a weakness, a crutch, and I find that so unsexy.

There seems to be no real middle ground with this if we are to continue on our path together. Either I accept that T is a smoker and just deal with it. Or he quits. We've tried both and have failed, so now we find ourselves (again) at an impasse.

It makes me very

sad

angry

frustrated

And in pain. My back hurts.

We eventually fell asleep, curled up together even thought we were still both angry and had come to no resolution. (T is the master at this kind of avoidance/packaging problems up and putting them away. It can be mind-numbingly infuriating for me.) There will be further discussion tonight.

oh the joy

Playing Santa

2009-12-11T16:35:00.004+07:00

I've been thinking about what to give everyone for Xmas. I usually very good at getting everything in order before it gets to be last minute, but I realized that I am leaving in less than a week and don't have much time left! I had planned on making a variety of cookies and giving boxfuls of them to T's folks, work colleagues, and Bangkok friends, but with time ticking, I think I may opt for something a bit less time-consuming: homemade granola. I figure it's kind of perfect since granola my favorite thing in the whole world to eat. I am awaiting email receipt of my mom's recipe and can then shop for the rare items, prepare the treat in bulk, and give it away in air tight glass jars like this one:

I'm considering sending copies of this book to my niece (I think my bro and his wife will appreciate it, too) and T's niece and nephews:

You can read the whole book here. Added value: For every book bought on the Awesome World Foundation website, one copy is donated to a school, library, hospital, etc. in the U.S. and abroad.

I'm still trying to come up with a good idea for T. I'm planning to find something in NYC for him, but I don't know what I'm looking for. He's the kind of guy who has very particular (and expensive) taste and usually buys the things he want when he wants them. I often have to get creative. In the past, I have given him a gift certificate for studio time at a ceramics place so that he could revisit a past passion; developed an elaborate treasure hunts around Bangkok; taken him for nice dinners to new restaurants; and bought him an elegant pair of cufflinks. So, even though I struggle with an idea for a somewhat significant gift, there is one certainty: when I return at the end of the month, T will be enjoying some cinnamon rolls and other items from one of his favorite bakeries:

Balthazar

Jaws!

2009-12-07T16:45:00.003+07:00

I have a seriously impairing fear of sharks that usually manages to keep me on the shore and out of dark swimming pools. I have tried scuba diving and mind-over-matter and have even considered hypnosis, but I think this may be the answer to conquering my phobia:

Sharks with People Teeth

The Huffington Post

Easy As Pie?

2009-12-06T17:56:00.016+07:00

Two months ago, T and I threw a birthday party for a new friend. I made an elaborate chocolate berry layer cake that received rave reviews from the guests, many of whom thought we had purchased it from a local bakery. I was so proud.

At the party, one of T’s good friends told me that, as a kid, he never liked cake and always requested apple pie on his birthday. Knowing he had a milestone birthday approaching, I planned to attempt an apple pie. After much online research and countless recipe reviews that warned of the difficulties of getting pie crust just right, I was scared off, but I still wanted to give our friend a pie, so I did something I am somewhat embarrassed to admit: I bought frozen crust.

Oh, the shame!

Coming from a family that honors homemade goodness above store bought foods, buying something mediocre and pre-made was a difficult thing to do.

T helped with the peeling and slicing of the apples (he loves to be my sous-chef). I used the recipe from Smitten Kitchen and was a bit disappointed by the lack of cohesion of the filling when the pie was cut. Perhaps I should have added more flour or some cornstarch since the apples were particularly juicy. It was kind of a mess. The other problem that pained me was that it was an especially ugly, lumpy excuse for a pie.

Nevertheless, served with a scoop ice cream, everyone with their champagne-dulled taste buds ate it up. Most importantly though, the birthday boy was very touched by the effort. And he had seconds.

***

In conversation last night, I learned that in the mid-1800’s, during the American Civil War, Abraham Lincoln received a telegram from the Thai king, Mongkut, offering to deliver working elephants to the U.S. Lincoln politely declined. The question that arose over the apple pie was "why?". As bizarre an offer as it was, wouldn’t acceptance have be a diplomatic gesture?

T and me elephant riding in Chiang Rai, July 2009

Hiding Under the Covers

2009-12-04T12:33:00.003+07:00

I have been on a reading kick the past few months. I attribute it to the acquisition of a bedside table and lamp that now allow me to comfortably read in bed while T watches stupid movies. Last night, I finished The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga. It was recommended by so many people and yet I struggled to get through it. I didn't find the story engaging, as Adiga was transparent in his use of it as a vehicle for a social commentary on modern India. Further, the characters lacked development and were mere sketches of stereotypical servants and masters. Though it did convey a picture (though, rather simplified) of class warfare and social hierarchy in India, I'm surprised it won the Man Booker Prize.

I was relieved when I got to the last page, since that meant I could start something new. I immediately began Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer by James L. Swanson. This is far from the kind of book I would choose to read, but a friend lent it to me and assured me that it doesn't read like a history textbook, but rather like a white-knuckle mystery (also, not my favorite genre) that I wouldn't be able to put down. Who doesn't love reading a book they can't put down?

On another note, I have two more weeks before I am suppose to be on a plane to the US for Xmas with the fam, which I'm excited about. But, I have yet to get my tickets. I hate travel planning. Especially when it's peak season and not easy to do. I am in avoidance mode.

Blogger Naivete

2009-12-03T22:33:00.004+07:00

I realize my posts have been long, rambling, and boring. From here on out, I vow to stop using this space as a mental-diarrhea depositing spot.

Carrying on...

I hate cigarette smoke. It makes my hair and clothes smell. It makes T's breath smell. It eventually causes long, agonizing deaths. (OK, I admit it. I may have succumbed to the indoctrination of the DARE program in 5th grade.) This anti-smoking campaign ad cracked me up. LOVE.

And the Pendulum Swings

2009-12-02T18:07:00.002+07:00

I am feeling so cranky today. I have been happy going along, living in the present, which is a feat for me. But, last night, T brought up a couple of things that have been on his mind and I was suddenly catapulted back into my old ways of life-impairing forward thinking. He wants to discuss his smoking (I despise the smell of cigarettes and the idea that someone would willfully shorten their life) in relation to our upcoming post-New Years trip to the beach with T's visiting childhood friend and his wife.

That issue is less nerve-wracking than the weightier one T brought up at the same time: my plans for med school and what that means for "us". I feel like, eventually, I will have to decide whether to choose to pursue a fulfilling career or opt for love (and the possibility of a dead-end professional life). It just doesn't seem fair. If T told me he wanted to go to school far far away to further his career, I would be thrilled and supportive and go along with the whole adventure. That, to me, is true love and true commitment. But maybe I am being a bit too hard-nosed about this. Pursuing my dreams would mean a strain on our relationship since med school and residency would be powerful black holes that would eat up eight, long, fertile years of my life. Plus, T would have to start over somewhere new. I happen to think such a push would be good for him, since, if he stays here in Bangkok, he will live a status quo life, falling into routine and ultimately not feeling great about his career/life. A move would require he address the career/work self-evaluation that he is so adept at avoiding.

It all seems to boil down to who is going to either throw in the towel or end up compromising much more. And, here, I thought things were going so well...

La Victoire by Rene Magritte

Burmese Border

2009-11-27T20:31:00.006+07:00

When we got back to Bangkok from Hong Kong last Sunday, I went for a run and then spent far too much time unpacking and repacking. On Monday morning at 5 am, I left for a work trip up to Mae Sot, which is a town on the Thai-Burma border. The beginning of the trip was a bit dull, but later on, I had the opportunity to visit the Mae La camp for Burmese refugees, most of whom are from the Karen ethic minority. It was amazing. There’s some really incredible doctoring done with limited resources at the malaria and antenatal clinics there.

In between playing with some cute kids and observing the doctor, I spent some time in the SCBU (Special Care Baby Unit), where there were teeny tiny babies, some of whom were born at 28 weeks and weighed around 1.2 kilos. In the West, they would be kept in incubators until they were large and strong enough to be exposed to the elements of the real world. In the camp, however, they are surrounded by hot water bottles and covered with layers of thick wool blankets as they sleep beside their mother on woven mats in a wall-less building.

My mom is going to start knitting sweaters, hats, and socks for the little ones who need the extra warmth.

The kids at the camp loved hamming it up for the camera (and then eager scrambling to see the results) and didn't really understand that closer is not necessarily better...

They were so fun to hang out with even though we didn't have languages in common. After a tentative initial interaction, one very sweet, shy little girl warmed to me and became my shadow for the next few hours. Her 2-year-old sister has been an in-patient at the clinic since infancy because she was born with situs inversus, which means that her heart and intestines are in the wrong place. I met the family during the doctor's rounds and was amazed at how small the toddler was for a 2 year old and, yet, how alert and interactive and seemingly normal she was despite her fairly significant congenital abnormality. I can only imagine how the middle sister, my shadow, must feel, spending all day everyday at the clinic and maybe not getting the attention she might have if her little sister were healthy.

I realize it is a bit strange for me to go from one post about shopping and living it up in Hong Kong to another about spending time in a refugee camp. I feel guilty about traveling and buying frivolous things when girls like this are spending their entire lives fenced in with limited resources, no legal identification, and a future that is so unknown.

The visit reminded me how much I want to practice medicine, especially in a setting like Mae La. What an impact the single doctor working at the clinic was making. Though she was trained as a pediatrician, she was also attending to adult patients with typhus and malaria, and serving as an ER doc, as well. I think I would love the variety, the interesting diseases, and that do-gooder glow that comes from working selflessly to help others.

Flashback

2009-11-27T17:12:00.006+07:00

So much to catch up on. Hong Kong was great. I hit the ground running (or maybe skipping and jumping up and clicking my heels together a la Charlie Chaplin is more accurate) and was so giddy that T asked what I had done with his girlfriend. We filled the weekend with dinners at old school swanky Cipriani’s and Classified@the Press Room, a cute Italian deli. We had drinks in the Long Kwai Fong area, at Hong Kong Brew House which had Oregon beer (T was ecstatic) and the freezing vodka room at Balalaika for a shot of Grazovka, at a tiny pub on Staunton Street, and at Club 71, a cool, low-key bar named after a huge protest march held on July 1, 2003. It's filled with lefty memorabilia and propaganda and I later learned that Lonely Planet describes it as a "counter-culture nerve centre".

The words written on the heads: Here Is Hope

At Club 71, we were joined by some friends, one of whom displayed his enormous tattoo-in-progress:

Ouch!

We had meals at the Flying Pan and Taco Loco--both considered mandatory by T. And we did loads of shopping. I scored big! A pair of tall black riding boots (finally!), some of my favorite and simply sexy underwear, black flats, a pretty dress, and a new pair of glasses. Oh, and my first red lipstick!

Mac Lipstick in Dubbonet

Consumerism at its finest! T is usually a bigger purchaser than I when we shop, but this time, he only bought a t-shirt at Lane Crawford and a Bottega Veneta wallet that he’s had his eye on for years. We both left happy.

I packed everything I needed and was happy with my choices. The only things that could have been improved, I think, are the Nine West pointy-toed black heels I wore with my LBD to Cipriani’s. I've had them for years and they feel a bit too officey for date nights, plus the heels have been repaired so many times that they've started to make a weird clacking noise when I walk. It kind of detracts from the quietly sophisticated look I'm going for...

(Note to self: Buy some hot new black heels!)

And just for laughs, here is one of the better finds in my international search for funny/bizarre English-language t-shirts:

Huh?

Field Day for Freud

2009-11-19T14:00:00.006+07:00

Last night I dreamed that T and I had decided to get married. (We've had the talk before, so it's not so far from reality.) I wanted something lowkey and simple and kind of divorced myself from the planning process since I didn't think much planning needed to be done. The day came and when I arrived at the site, I found that T's mom had gone over the top in preparations. Not only was everything decorated and froofy, but there were throngs and throngs of T's relatives wandering about--many of whom he didn't know. I was tormented, torn between just wanting to get married that day and not offending T's mom by postponing the whole thing since no one from my family had been invited. T told me it was OK if we put the whole thing off, that his mom would deal. The rest of the dream I spent wandering through old hotels and rolling hills, mostly alone, but sometimes I would run into old friends and have a beer and chat for a bit.

And then I woke up.

(Taken on our trip to Italy last spring)

Analysis: Clearly I have some issues with T's mom wanting to be all up in our biznazz. I'm not ready for marriage yet. I miss my family and feel guilty that they aren't more involved in my life since we live so far apart. And taking long solo walks in pastoral landscapes is cathartic.

***

I'm off to Hong Kong tomorrow. I can't wait! Last night before bed, I spent an hour or so trying on clothes and deciding what to pack. It will be about 20 degrees cooler there than here during the day and even chillier at night, so I'm already bracing myself and bringing a lot of layers! (Scarves! Boots! How I've missed you!)

I spoke to T last night before I went to sleep and he was under the covers in his hotel bed wearing his work shirt and a very thick hooded sweatshirt. And he was still freezing. Wish I could have been there to warm him up!

Fly to Me!

2009-11-18T20:50:00.001+07:00

Since living abroad, I have made do with whatever clothing I can get here and whatever I can stock up on during my twice-a-year trips back to the US. Now, after reading endless blogs, I am inspired to dip my toe into the world of online shopping. This Vera Wang necklace from Kohl's is the first siren I noticed seductively calling my name:

I think I could wear all black and get a bit of that elusive rockstar look. Baby steps.

Wish List and Happiness

2009-11-18T14:11:00.001+07:00

Though these Bensimon sneaks were showcased more than a year ago at Refinery 29 and again last spring on fashion blogs, I want them now. Oh, so Parisian chic. I'm going to look for some in Hong Kong this weekend. Otherwise, I'll wait until I'm in New York next month.

I love the fruit vendors of Bangkok. All pieces are cut perfectly and presented in a bag with a long toothpick. Happiness.

Me, Myself, and I

2009-11-17T10:56:00.007+07:00

This weekend, I was unusually OK with being left to fend for myself. Most times when T says he needs to work on Saturday and spends ALL day Sunday golfing, I feel abandoned and neglected and bored and grumpy. I think, perhaps, now that we're on an even keel, it feels more comfortable to be apart and miss each other a bit. Even a bit nice.

On Saturday, after sleeping in and going for brunch at Crepes&Co, I met up with E to see "The September Issue" and then do 30 minutes of (unsuccessful) power-shopping afterward. I was surprised that the editors highlighted in the movie were not as glamorous and "edgy" as the models they styled. The clothes worn by the staff at American Vogue were fairly ordinary; their hair was largely unkempt; and nearly all who were interviewed had some serious smoking wrinkles around their mouths. There was no plastic surgery to be seen. It was shocking, but very refreshing and hopeful to see that these queens of fashion have opted to age gracefully.

Shopping options in Bangkok are slim. There is a plethora of shops stocking overly-embellished, too short dresses that have weird mixes of fabrics and far too many ruffles for any woman not wanting to look like she's about to attend her 5-year-old friend's birthday party. There are few places to get basics and none offer pieces that are of truly good quality. There's Zara and Mango and Promod and Forever XXI for simple tanks and other less over-the-top pieces, but their cotton stretches after a single wash and the seams aren't sewn with durability in mind. I have heard that Gap will open at the beginning of next year and I am psyched for that, even though it will mean crazy marked-up t-shirts due to the fact that it will be considered an imported brand (but many of their pieces are made in Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia! Oh, the injustice!).

T and E have tried to get me to dress "outside the box". That means they think I should wear more Thai designers and styles, like Fly Now, one of E's favorites. Whenever I try their suggestions, though, I feel like I'm playing dress-up and could never imagine wearing the wildly patterned or oddly cut pieces in real life, let alone step outside of the safety of a dressing room. While no one would look at me in my current wardrobe and say, "Damn, she's really edgy!", they would say that I am classy and understated, which, to me, is sometimes preferable. However, there are some days when I really wish I had the clothes and courage to dress like a rockstar. This is a problem since there's no distinction in my closet between play clothes and work clothes. Everything has that professional, tucked-in look. Ugh. I need a personal shopper.

And a personal packer. My current preoccupation: What to pack for Hong Kong this weekend. Our days will be spent shopping (T loves looking at and sometimes buying designer goods), while our nights will be spent at hip or schnazzy restaurants and bars. We're going to Cipriani's for dinner on Friday night and somewhere new on Saturday night. We'll also probably meet up with some of T's old friends for drinks. But my packing/"wears" phenomenon lingers and haunts me. I utz every time I have to pack for a trip to any fashionable city. I want to look hip. I want to feel confident. I want to be comfortable. I just don't have the right tools to make it all happen together. Maybe I'll find some good pieces on this trip. (Hope springs eternal...)

Moving on...

On Saturday night, we went to my boss's place for a housewarming party. I love the people I work with and I think T is starting to see why. It's like being part of one, big, functional family. I had my first taste of Pimm's Cup, which I loved. Being an American, it was new to me. It's a punch with a bit of Pimm's, lemon juice, simple syrup, and diced cucumber and mint. Kind of like British sangria, I guess. It was light and delicious! With the encouragement of my boss, I joined some co-workers jumping on the trampoline, which I'd been eying all night. Once on, that childhood fearlessness quickly melted away and I recalled all of the accounts I've ever heard about trampoline injuries. I threw in the towel fairly quickly.

I was super lazy on Sunday, only leaving the apartment to get a Starbucks and go to the grocery store (twice--arg!) in preparation for dinner. I made an excellent meal, redeeming myself after my mediocre couscous/veg/chicken salad last Sunday (which T still claims he liked, but I don't believe him).

Main: broiled chicken breasts that had been marinated in olive oil, honey, and cumin

Side: stuffing with sausage

Salad: spinach/mint salad with grated apple and slivered almonds

Condiment: Ginger/Fig preserves

True to form, T made a sandwich out of all of it. I would consider him a foodie in spite of the fact that he seems to think everything tastes better in sandwich form. It's endearing.

Run Like the Wind

2009-11-13T10:43:00.003+07:00

On Wednesday, I met E for our usually scheduled run. After my rant about finding girlfriends in Bangkok, hanging out with E reminded me that I do have friends --or at least one-- here, ones who are smart and interesting and non-judgmental. We had planned to meet at our usual place in the park, but ended up missing each other. We ran 7.5K on our own before we bumped into each other. With conversation flowing easily, we kept up the pace and before we knew it, we'd completed 15K! The first solo kilometers, I was listening to a hilarious Moth Podcast told by Joan Juliet Buck, the former editor-in-chief of Paris Vogue. These podcasts are unscripted anecdotes told by random people in NYC and are a bit like an open-mic night. Buck's story had me laughing aloud and running a bit faster. It set the mood for the rest of the run.

After the run and showers, we hit up Govinda, an Italian vegetarian restaurant where we have become regulars. We don't even have to order; the waiters already know what we want. We talked about why women are so competitive with each other. E thinks it's professional ambition and territoriality that spills over into social contexts. I'm not so sure I buy that since this competition seems to rear its ugly head early in development (hello, middle school queen bees!), before careers are even a glimmer in a girl's eye.

***

Another day at home. I emailed my boss to see if there is anything he needs me to do. He emailed back almost immediately, thanking me for checking in and telling me that everything is under control. I'm not yet sure how I'll spend the day.

No progress on the running mix yet. T spent an hour last night going through his music, playing me snippets from albums, trying to get me hooked. He would turn a song on and then, while sitting in a chair by the stereo, he'd mime a running, pumping his arms, wiping sweat from his brow, all to the beat of the song. He'd then look to me, as I was sitting across the room cracking up, for song approval, nodding his head in encouragement. It was very sweet and funny, but his music is more loungey and much better suited for background party tunes. Nothing made me want to jump up and dance. I think music that's more pop-py is the way to go for a running mix. My current power songs --Beyonce ("Put a Ring on It") and Feist ("1234") and Ting Tings ("That's Not My Name")-- once did the trick beautifully, but after hundreds of listens, have lost their power.

I was suppose to go to a new friend's birthday party the other night, but got the date wrong, so I'm thinking of baking her some cookies I know she loves: my great Auntie Bess's mandelbrot. I brought them to her place for Yom Kippur break fast and her kids actually fought over the last one. I was proud. I'm waiting for our lovely, twice/week maid to leave before I start making a mess. The mandelbrot is pretty easy to make. It's like biscotti, which is one of my mom's specialties, but with a 1/4 cup more oil and with chocolate chips.

Auntie Bess's Mandelbrot

3 eggs

1c sugar

1 tsp baking power

1/4 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

1 c raisins

1/2 c chopped nuts

1 c chocolate chips

3 c flour

1 c oil

Mix the eggs, sugar, baking powder, salt, and vanilla.
Add the raisins, nuts, and chocolate chips.
Add the flour, mix well.
Add the oil.
Make into a workable dough.
On an ungreased cookie sheet, form into four logs.
Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.
Bake at 350 for 25 minutes or until lightly browned.
Cool for 15 minutes.
Transfer to a cutting board and, with a serrated knife, cut into bars.
Arrange bars on the cookie sheet and return to oven for 15 minutes.

Calling Cool Chicas

2009-11-11T16:23:00.000+07:00

Today, is another lazy day. I am willing myself not to eat chocolate while I bum around the apartment. I've been off my usual running schedule for a couple of months and am trying to get back into shape. Yesterday, I managed to do more than 10K without too much trouble, which was incredibly relieving. I chalk it up to the fact that I had a running buddy to keep me company. Runs seem to be so much easier when there's someone to talk with. "This American Life" podcasts use to keep me entertained and distracted enough, but now, they barely get me through 5K. I'm hoping that with a new running mix --I've been listening to the same one for more than a year and it just doesn't do the trick anymore-- I'll be back in the game.

Yesterday's run got me thinking about friendships between single and non-single ladies. I'm beginning to realize that they can be fraught with difficulties that may not be immediately apparent. There is the issue of division of time. Single friends want girls' nights out, weekends away, etc., while non-single friends need to make time for their honeys. Someone is bound to feel neglected and resentful. And then there's is jealousy, which is poisonous and corrosive and ultimately makes me run for the hills. Why is there so much subversive competition between women?

Finding lasting friends in Bangkok has been a huge feat that I have yet to accomplish. I am a bit older than the transient newcomers who arrive with fresh excitement for life in a foreign city and a drive to instantaneously create a social life for themselves. I played that role three-and-a-half years ago. I was out most nights at networking events at the hippest new bars; I was dancing the night away at clubs; I was going on dates; and I was putting myself out there with fervor! I eventually got burned out around the time I began dating T, a year after I arrived. Never having been much of a drinker and with a propensity to being a morning person and a runner, I just wasn't cut-out for the party girl persona. I ahve tried friendships with girls who have carried on the hard-drinking, hard-partying girls, but they're just not people I click with.

I'm a bit younger than the trailing spouses, newlyweds, and mothers and, given where we are in our lives, I find it difficult to relate to them. Let it be known that I have tried. I've gone to their bookclubs and networking meetings, but so far, it's been a no-go, folks. I yearn for my college or grad school girls who are smart, snarky, empowered, ambitious, healthy, down-to-earth, and would choose girls' nights of dinner and wine or an indie flick or even a game night over dancing to pounding nnnsss-nnnsss music at clubs where conversation is totally out of the question. I realize I sound like an old fuddy-duddy. And I'm embracing it.

Where are these women? They must exist somewhere in Bangkok.

In the meantime, I will remind myself to enjoy life as it is now (easy since it happens to be quite good). And remind myself that if I were in the US, I probably wouldn't live somewhere where I could see this almost every evening from my balcony:

Hiding Under a Rock

2009-11-10T20:09:00.000+07:00

I was in hibernation mode today. In the not-so-distant past, before work became busy, I would spend many a day holed up in the apartment. T would come home after work and ask if I'd been outside at all. It sounds a bit pathetic, but most days I really enjoyed not having anything to do.

Last week, I tied up the projects I have been working on and while I wait for the next one to land on my desk, I'm hanging out at home. I hate the idea of pretending to be busy at the office when there's nothing to do and I'm fortunate enough to work in an environment where the only expectation is that you get your work done --however and wherever you'd like. It's an excellent gig.

Today was a lazy, self-indulgent day of reading blogs for inspiration; trying to get into a new book (The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga); having a saucy lunch at home with T; meeting my friend, L, for a run; and now making plans to bake before T gets home from a networking event that I was happy to miss. I have a feeling that the next few days will have a similar rhythm, which is fine by me. There may even be some sleeping in and massages. Luxury.

First Day of the Rest of My Life

2009-11-10T19:51:00.000+07:00

Growing up, on the first day of school every year, my dad use to say that to me as he walked me to the end of the driveway. He'd usually quote some long-dead poet and then, with his hand on my shoulder, he'd say it and send me off. While it was predictable and corny, it was comforting. Fresh start.

I set up this blog about a year ago and have utzed about how to begin, which raised a lot of questions that have remained unanswered. Mostly, I wonder for whom I am writing this. For me? For the anonymous web surfer who stumbles upon it? For travelers looking for information on Bangkok? Hopefully, as I grow into the blogger I aspire to be, I will fulfill the reading desires of any and all. And, enjoy myself in the process.