There and Back Again

It's been a week.  A week ago, ew left Singapore.  Not just for a business trip, but permanently.  It feels a little weird.  I guess I know she's relocated, but in the back of my mind, it's almost like I expect her to come back soon.  Like it is a business trip.  I'm supposed to follow in the next month or so, but for now, I feel like I'm in limbo, not really in one place or the other.

This move is a good thing.  At least that's what it's supposed to be.  An opportunity to move back to the Bay Area, to move "home."  But I just can't seem to wrap my head around it.  I keep fighting it and fighting it, even though I know there is nothing left to fight.  It's done.  It's been done for over a month now, in progress for many more.  There are moments now where the emotion explodes, where it becomes difficult to keep in the frustration, the anger, the tears.  I don't know what's wrong with me.  I've moved before, many times in fact.  I've always prided myself on being adaptable and flexible.  Is it just another quarter life crisis?  How many of those can one have?

 Maybe it's leaving Singapore.  Have I really grown so fond of this place?  Where after struggling and struggling and finally finding some footing here, I feel like it's all crumbling beneath me?  Where ew and I have developed some relationships, settled in to our "usual" spots, and generally built something real, only to suddenly have to tear it down.  But I'm not the sentimental type.  I don't usually care about things like tradition or holidays.  I don't get nostalgic about leaving things behind.  I like looking ahead and seeing what is to come.  I didn't care about leaving Christmas, sports, or friends behind when I came to Singapore.  And it's not like I'm even in love with Singapore.  Ew and I had been contemplating leaving for a while now.  It's too small of a place.  Small job market and neither of us saw a lot of potential in our current roles.  Not a lot of culture.  Still don't have great relationships here.  I've always believed that home is wherever we want it to be, depending on our bonds of fellowship.  And being in Singapore has only reinforced that feeling.  I remember thinking earlier this year that I'm ready to go back to California and hang out with my closest friends.  To continue growing up with these guys I've known for the past 10-15 years.  To be closer to my family, particularly my dad in his current condition.  That I was tired of being alone here, of not having anyone other than ew to randomly do things with.  All of this rationalization went into the decision to make this move.  To support ew and the decision to go back.  It's all been processed.

Maybe it's the fact that I don't have a job in the Bay.  Or that I haven't seen anything that gets me excited.  Despite all my complaints about my role and company in Singapore, I do feel that I am working on something meaningful and interesting.  I've had the privilege to spend a lot of time in a developing country, to interact with the bureaucracy and governance, and to be frustrated with it, dejected by it, but at the same time, invigorated by the prospect of actually achieving something.  It's almost a reflection of my life abroad--the constant struggle to get somewhere solid, one step forward, two steps back, and maybe the illusion that I can rise to the challenge.  I don't believe I will ever get such an immersive experience again in the near future.   My colleagues and I always talk about how we can write books based on our time working on this project in India.   Maybe the transition from this to a culture dominated by social media and opt-in apps leaves me a bit bitter.

Maybe it's just the fact that I'm a misfit.  There's a New Yorker article that talks about how there are three types of people who live abroad: mercenaries, missionaries, and misfits.  I'm definitely not the first two, and I didn't initially think I was a misfit, but what if I am?  Unlike most American expats here, I seem to relate most closely with locals.  I mean it took time and effort, and it wasn't really that natural by any means, but my palate is almost completely Asian at this point, I work only with locals at a local company, and my colleagues have now told me I speak more locally than before.  And Americans just seem to be bother me now, with the arrogance and all-knowing attitudes.  How do I fit in a place like San Francisco?  For someone who doesn't even have Facebook, who is almost anti-technology, who is analog in a digital time.  For someone who spent the past three years dealing with the Indian government on trying to build an infrastructure project, only to face a smug techster that claims he is doing more to change the world through the Internet.  I know there are normal people there, but how do you avoid the rat race of new gadgets, skinny jeans, and $5 cups of fair trade organic coffee?  It almost makes me feel like Frodo going back to the Shire.  Has my world prism changed so much that I can't even go back to a place I called home for 7 years?  Where things like second breakfast and elevensies lose the charm they once had?  How do you go back?

Maybe I'm just scared.  Scared of being back in a city I already know, of facing the thought of settling down.  I guess in the back of my mind, I always knew that San Diego and Singapore would just be sojourns.  San Diego was a stopping point to wait for ew to finish her PhD.  So even though I was pretty much a townie during that time, it was just to be with her, and we would move on together.  And similarly, Singapore was just another experience for ew and I to have, the abroad experience I always craved.  Maybe in my mind, I was always open to an open-ended stay, but I knew ew always wanted to go back to the US at some point.  Her agreement was really only for the length of her postdoc, 3 years.  Singapore was never a place where we envisioned ourselves long-term, even if we were here an indefinite amount of time.  And though we both became more open to staying longer than 3 years, it never really became the place to stay.  But in the Bay, there is a sense of finality to it.  I know that doesn't have to be the case, but there is no next plan.  No postdoc to finish.  Nothing pulling us to another place.  We've talked about being open to other opportunities abroad, but we've also talked about settling down.  And while I've faced this prospect in my career, this is the first time ew is facing it in hers.  There's no milestone anymore.  Her career is open-ended, with no real cutoff points for decisions on what to do next.

Maybe it's that last part that scares me the most.  In my last diving trip, a guy said to me that he can't understand local Singaporeans who settle down in their 20s and then they inevitably cheat on each other in their 30s because they've changed so much.  I think he was just giving an excuse for being single still, but it made me think that ew and I fit this mold.  We've been together almost 10 years, and we both just turned 30.  We have changed a lot from when we first got together.  And maybe we are much different from when we first fell in love and maybe it is harder to get along sometimes.  But then I think how we've changed together.  We've gone through all these experiences together.  And our love has changed in that way too.  But maybe her career is the wildcard now.  For the first time, I'm scared that we're growing separately.  That her career will pull her in different directions, and that she will grow and change, apart from me.  I think a part of me feels that way already with the way this move has come.  And maybe in the future it continues down this path.

It feels hypocritical to feel this way, as I've always tried to encourage her to keep going, to keep pushing.  But maybe I'm more wedded to tradition than I thought.  Where I feel resentment for having to give up my career choices and dreams for hers.  Where I feel the sacrifices are no longer done together, but by me.  It's funny, because I've always joked around and told people that I would love to be a house husband.  But I guess I've always wanted it on my terms.  And maybe I've deceived myself into thinking that I was doing things on our terms.  That my move to San Diego was for us, that the move to Singapore was for us.  When in fact, maybe it was all for me and what I wanted out of my life, my career.  And that ew was doing it for me, for us in that respect.  That once it became inconvenient for me, I exploded and fought and fought.

We can't stop the world from changing and evolving; we can't stop us from changing and evolving.  As much as we fight it and never want to let go, sometimes we have to.  Ew and I are different from when we came to Singapore  She does have a career now.  I can either keep hoping things are the way I want it and watch us continue to grow separately, or I can try to do what ew did, and try to grow together.

This I Promise You

St recently asked me if I had a copy of the vows I wrote for my wedding.  I didn't think I had kept it anywhere, but somehow I found it in my gmail inbox.  To ew:

It took me a really long time to think about what I wanted to say in these vows.  I contemplated whether I should talk about how we met and fell in love.  Or if I should talk about all the things I love about you.  Or if I should tell you what exactly it is I am vowing to you.  But no matter what I thought about, it always came back to a single theme, and that is what love really means to me.

People love good stories.  Love at first sight.  Meant to be.  Stories you read about or see in movies.  Destiny and serendipity finding a way to bring soul mates together.  Our story has never really been like that.  We were friends, then good friends, then boyfriend and girlfriend, then best friends.  We had chemistry from the start, but I don’t think either one of us could honestly say upon first meeting that we knew we were made for each other.  But you know what?  I think those stories have it backward.  You don’t just happen to meet your soul mate, you find your soul mate.  Because I do believe we are meant to be, but not because of some unexplainable magic, but because of our love for each other, because of what love means to both of us.

It’s easy to be in love.  I think most people who marry have good intentions and that they love each other.  But you constantly hear about how people fall out of love.  And I think that’s because love isn’t easy.  Things don’t magically work out because you love each other.  I know this, because many times in our relationship I’ve tried that approach.  I will admit this to you now, but after some arguments where I thought I was right, I would intentionally close up hoping you’d magically see my viewpoint.  I’m not sure this ever worked.  You know what did work?  Open communication with each other, and a desire to see things from each other’s perspective.  Also, I’m not sure we would have made it through long distance if we just counted on love pulling us through.  It took lots of effort, from arranging visits every month, to balancing our time with each other, family, and friends, to talking through problems late into the night, even when we were exhausted from a long workday.

What I’m trying to say is that being in love doesn’t mean anything unless you act on that love.  To take the time and effort to communicate openly, to show affection, to compromise, to trust, to take chances together, to support each other, to want to pursue the other one’s happiness.  And that is how I know we are soul mates.  Because you make me want to do all of those things.  From simple things like eating healthier and proper skin care, to much more complex and difficult things like understanding and supporting a Ph.D. candidate who is also planning a wedding and interviewing for jobs.  I know that we are very different people.  You’re more nervous than me.  I’m more adventurous.  You’re more compassionate and kind.  I’m more mischievous.  But I know that we both love each other in a way that makes us always want to understand each other and pushes us to become better, more complete people.  And I know that our love and marriage will be incredible because of that.  I love you.

Do The Right Thing

For some reason, I can't seem to get the recent death of the U.S. ambassador in Libya out of my head.  Being in Singapore, this topic is not even on the radar in the news cycles.  But I felt deeply affected when I heard of the circumstances involving the anti-Muslim video, the subsequent rioting, and ultimately the tragic death of innocent people.  In fact, ew and I had a heated discussion on it where we agreed to disagree, which was probably the first time that I can remember in our relationship where we were not able to meet each other halfway.

I do not condone the violent actions of the Libyans, actions that resulted in several deaths.  But at the same time, I do not condone the actions of the anti-Muslims who produced and distributed the video, particularly since there had been prior history with these people doing sacrilegious things, like burning the Koran.  And I think a lot of the narrative that will surround these events is that it was only a video, that there is freedom of speech, and that people should not react as the Libyans did.  That narrative is correct, but I believe it is also idealistic and not reflective of how we actually interact with each other in a global world.  It reminds me of the movie Do The Right Thing, and how accurately that film portrayed race relations--nothing is really that black or white.

Full disclosure: I have not actually seen Do The Right Thing.  But for some reason (probably because of Spike Lee's most recent release of Red Hook Summer), I read the plot summary and critical analysis of the film.  In the film, long-standing racial tension between blacks and whites (and Koreans) ultimately leads to violence after a series of escalating events.  And I think this is what is missing when we talk about this Libya incident: the long standing tension that exists with Muslims and Americans.  Full disclosure again: I am not Muslim.  But let's walk through how a Muslim may process things.  First, there's been an ongoing conflict with Christians for hundreds, if not thousands of years.  Second, post-September 11, there's been a huge backlash against Muslims, particularly from the United States, with aggression into Iraq and Afghanistan.  Third, with Arab Spring, there's been a lot of instability due to a disaffected population, exacerbated by United States involvement in trying to influence these new democracies.  From this perspective, someone in the United States has created a video that is hateful to who you are as a person (a Muslim), and from your perspective (where such speech against Islam is not allowed), the release of this video in the United States is seen as an approved video.  Perhaps you didn't intend to kill anyone, but when mobs gather, things tend to get out of control.  Just look at the Rodney King riots.

Ew claims that I am being sympathetic to the Libyans.  I believe they did an inexcusable act.  I don't think just saying something allows anyone to act violently.  But I think we need to acknowledge that there is more complexity here than simply saying, "There's no place for violence in response to a silly video."  Let's go back to Do The Right Thing.  Did anyone do the right thing?  Radio Raheem plays his boombox at deafening levels and drives everyone in the pizza shop crazy.  Sal smashes his boombox to pieces, prompting him to act angrily.  The cops see an intimidating figure and attack Radio Raheem.  Small things can escalate to big things when there is that much history and tension.  Sal is correct in saying he's free to put pictures of whoever he wants on the wall.  Radio Raheem is correct in saying Sal should acknowledge that his store is mostly patronized by black people.  These are the freedoms people have and in an ideal society, it stays at this level of discourse.  But words are hurtful.  And they can incite, particularly with sensitive topics like race and religion.  At the end of Do The Right Thing, Spike Lee puts two quotes: one by MLK advocating non-violence and the other by Malcom X advocating violence "if necessary."  People need to understand that we all need to do the right thing.

There's an advice column that I'm a bit addicted to called Dear Prudie.  One of the things that Prudie is very adamant about is the fact that woman need to take precautions and protect themselves when going out and hooking up with guys.  She advocates not drinking to the point of losing control, such that women put themselves at a higher risk of rape.  A lot of people respond by claiming that just because a girl goes out and has fun, that doesn't give guys the right to rape her.  And Prudie wholeheartedly agrees.  She does not condone rape in any manner and acknowledges that the girl is still the victim.  However, she makes it clear that she does not believe the world works in such a way.  Guys don't act like that.  We can all hope that they change and every guy becomes respectful of a drunk girl, but if not, then the girl also needs to take responsibility.  That's kind of how I feel about this Libya situation.  I don't think we live in an ideal society.  I believe we should strive to MLK's ideal.  But we also have to recognize that the world doesn't always operate the way we Americans think it should (nor does the United States for that matter).  I honestly believe the United States is the most tolerant country in the world.  It is an amazing place where most people can speak freely and not worry as much about discrimination.  But we have to understand that our American ideals and principles don't necessarily translate globally.  And that requires us to take responsibility to do the right thing, to understand that there may be consequences to things we would tolerate domestically.  Like a video condemning Muslims.

This article may be better at capturing the thoughts I have tried to express: http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/09/the-contradictions-of-diplomacy/262271/

Vietnam

Back when I was working in California, the stretch between President's Day and Memorial Day was always tortuous (though I did work for some companies that actually gave Good Friday).  It's 5-day workweek after 5-day workweek, and even weekend trips couldn't break the grip of the monotonous grind.  In Singapore, that stretch is from Vesak Day in May to National Day in August.  To celebrate finally having a 4-day workweek, ew and I made it a 3-day workweek and visited Hanoi.  We realized that we hadn't taken a trip together since April actually, though each of us had gone on several trips for work (and ew even went on a few for pleasure without me).  So it was a welcome respite to get away from Singapore together, as our relationship was suffering a bit from island fever.

Whenever ew and I talk about where we should go visit, we inevitably talk about where we've gone in the past.  So in discussing Hanoi, one of the topics was how Asia had no romantic cities (well, other than Kyoto).  In thinking about it, this isn't really that shocking, as Asia is mostly filled with developing countries that have a sense of chaos to them.  There are beach destinations, but for some reason, there isn't that same sense of serenity to those places; it's more of an exoticism that draws people in.  Yet, when we thought about Hanoi, we thought about an Old Quarter filled with remnants of French colonial architecture and a vibrant blend of European and Asian cuisine.  People sipping dark Vietnamese coffee while eating banh mi and pain chocolats.  A quaint town full of cyclers along the lake, with rolling rice paddy fields on the city outskirts.  I'm not quite sure why we thought Hanoi would be like that.  No, Hanoi was pretty much like most Southeast Asian cities we've been to.

It's a bustling, small city filled with cars and motorbikes.  In a way, it feels like it's somewhere in between India and Thailand.  A little more developed than India (and seemingly more crowded), but more of the wild west than Thailand.  When ew and I went to Chiang Mai last year, it was relaxing because it's such a sleepy place, with nothing really to do (except cycle and take cooking classes).  Hanoi is similar in that it's small and there's not much to do, but it's definitely not sleepy.  There are tons of people in traffic--I'm not sure a second goes by in Hanoi without someone honking their horn.  And even though most places are walkable if you're staying in the Old Quarter, it's not very pleasant since the sidewalks are blocked off with people selling stuff or parked motorbikes.  And if you're off the sidewalk, you're playing frogger with the traffic.  Ew and I basically walked in a single file at all times.

So a non-sleepy, chaotic town with not much to do is not really the best place for a weekend getaway.  But there are two parts of Hanoi that are quite nice: art and food.  Around the lake, there are several art galleries showcasing local artists' works, and ew and I actually bought our first piece of art together.  It's quite affordable and it definitely adds a cultural feel to Hanoi, particularly since Singapore is not exactly an arts hotspot.  And the food, well, some of the best food I've had in Southeast Asia.  I think what surprised me the most about the food was how light it all was.  It's definitely in stark contrast to the heavy use of oil in Chinese cooking, or the spice and curry needed in Malaysian/Singaporean/Indonesia/Indian cooking, or the salty miso/soy sauce based Japanese cooking.  A lot of the food was just lightly seasoned soups or noodles with fresh herbs.  It was freshly made pho ga or bun thang, which tastes like the best homemade chicken soup.  The bun cha or cha ca, both of which pair vermicelli with oilier grilled pork or grilled fish, both served with fresh herbs, like spring onion, mint, basil, and even dill.  The xoi, a simple sticky rice dish with thinly sliced Chinese sausage.  Or my favorite dish, banh xeo, an egg pancake with bean sprouts and pork, packed into a rice paper with mint and basil, and then dipped in some fish sauce.  If anything, Hanoi is worth a trip just for the food, particularly Quan An Ngon, Cha Ca La Vong (the original, don't get tricked like ew and me), and Xoi Yen.  For places like Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum or the war museum (which apparently is almost all in Vietnamese), I'm not sure it's worth wandering to if it's 36 degrees out.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts

A couple weeks ago I finally caught the series finale of Friday Night Lights.  I've been meaning to write something about it, but every time I try to formulate my thoughts, I can't quite seem to grasp what I want to say.  The book (and movie to some extent) is a searing commentary on the state of small town America, with an in-depth look at how values are misplaced for the sake of football glory.  It seems somewhat topical to be recalling it now, given the scandal that has recently rocked Penn State.  But the TV show is a bit different.  I've actually only seen the last three seasons (out of five), but it's not quite as bleak as the book.  Despite the hardship and difficulties people like Matt, Tim, and Coach face, there's a sense of hope in the show.  Maybe it's faint, but it's there.  And I think that's why I've been struggling to figure out what I want to say about the show, because maybe the show is how I want life to be, but the book is how life really is.

I asked ls, an avid fan of Friday Night Lights, what he thinks the main theme of the show is.  He said community and family.  And to some extent this is the recurring undertone.  The show centers around Coach and his family, and how they navigate the world of high school football in a small Texas town.  It shows the resiliency of a town that bonds together over a common cause, of the happiness and joy that is achievable, of the boundaries that can be broken by having a dream.  But it also shows the consequences of not always believing and abiding by this dream, of being a misfit in this closed community.  It shows that while community and family may lift some of us up, it may also suffocate and bring some of us down.  Maybe this dichotomy is what Friday Night Lights is about.

I think two scenes capture this concept in an understated way.  The first, from season 4, is when Julie goes for her college interview.  She tells the interviewer that all her life she wanted to get out of Dillon.  That each book, each accomplishment was a step toward that direction.  But upon leaving, she's realizing that she has been shaped by her town, and that her viewpoint is different from every other person.  This is the strength that community can give us: identity.  But only if we are aware enough that our views and opinions are based in that identity.

Growing up in California, it's always easy to read articles about the Midwest or South and wonder what is going on in that part of the country.  How can people care so much more about football than education?  How can people be so closed-minded about things?  Maybe that's the question Friday Night Lights the book was asking.  But in moving to Singapore, I've begun to understand what diversity actually means.  And what it means to really understand another person's viewpoint.  We're all a bit like Julie.  While some of us think that California may be the best place ever (rather than wanting to leave), our viewpoints have been shaped by our community.  Most of us surround ourselves with people who have similar thought processes.  For me, it's an open-minded, highly educated, free spirited thought process.  Growing up in affluent, conservative San Diego and then going to hippie, liberal Berkeley didn't really change that fact.  There may be different opinions, but I'm used to people thinking in rational, logical steps.  Even for people who travel a lot, and even for expats in foreign countries, they still don't quite grasp this concept.  Most travelers don't have to deal with the day in/day out of the country they're visiting.  They enjoy some local culture and talk to some locals, but it's difficult to understand the true pulse of a place without putting down roots.  Similarly, even for expats, they tend to gravitate towards people with similar backgrounds, because it's often difficult to relate to the local culture.  This has been mostly true for me in Singapore as well.  But I've also had the opportunity to work in a local company, where I deal with Singaporeans, Indians, Japanese, and Chinese, and there are distinctly different ways they approach problems and make decisions.  And it's easy enough to say that they don't get it, that they don't understand how things work, but in reality, my version of how things work is based on the community that I'm from.  And maybe that's why I can't understand a community that places football above education, but it also prevents me from trying to understand.  Unless I embrace the limitations of my identity. And that's the second scene.

At the end of season 5, in the midst of playing for a state championship, Luke is debating whether he should keep playing football at a Division III school or join the army.  He asks Tim and Tim tells him to enjoy state, to embrace it, and then to let it go.  This is especially poignant coming from Tim, who tried to keep playing football at college, then ended up back in Dillon and is at a stage of his life where he's a bit bitter about how everything has turned out.  Football was Tim's identity.  It is Luke's identity.  But if they keep holding on to that limited view of themselves, they'll never move forward in life.  It's easy to get caught up in what we've established.  A steady job.  A comfortable home.  A group of friends.  An idea of how we should live life, how we should spend our money, how we should start a family.  And we tend to try to hold on to all this.  But if we keep holding on, we'll never move past that limited scope with which we see the world.  Maybe we have to be able to let go in order to avoid letting our identity trap us.

The iconic phrase from Friday Night Lights is "clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose."  We always say people are more alike than they know, but we don't really understand what that means.  Sure we may have similar problems, similar wants and desires, but that's not how we approach our interactions with each other.  We frame our opinions and views through the lens of our own community.  Our eyes are blurred by our homogeneity, no matter how diverse we may think we are.  Our hearts only carry our own identity.  But there's that glimmer of hope, that we can let go and have clear eyes and full hearts.  And that's when the world becomes beautiful, and no one can lose.

I Never Felt This Way Before ...

Last weekend ew and I ended up seeing the Amazing Spider Man.  On its own, it's actually a decent movie, but given that it's pretty much the exact same story as the first Spider Man (which is only about 10 years old), it's a bit superfluous.  The trailers hyped up the secret of Peter Parker's parents, but the movie really only touches on that aspect to set up a sequel.  Regardless, there's a wonderful scene in the movie, where Peter Parker (played by the very likable Andrew Garfield) discovers his acrobatic abilities by skateboarding in an isolated industrial area.  It's paced to Coldplay's Til Kingdom Come and I think it poetically captures everything about adolescence and self discovery.  That sense of loneliness we all feel in our youth, searching for something to define us, searching for that feeling we've never felt but want to feel.  That slow discovery of something meaningful, of something worthwhile, of feeling alive.  And finding moments of peace amongst the turbulence of life.

Maybe that scene resonated with me because as I've gotten older, I've begun to listen to less and less music, and hearing Coldplay brings back memories of my adolescence.  Not quite high school, but definitely college, and in particular, my relationship with ew.  And I recall that feeling of alienation, of cynicism, but also the exhilaration, impetuousness, and spontaneity.  As we age we think we need to be more responsible, more mature, more stable, and that is true.  We've gone through more life experiences and don't overreact to situations.  We don't run as hot and cold as we did when we were younger.  But to some extent, maybe this evenness takes the edge off of life.  It reminds me of scene from Cold Mountain.  Jude Law's character is the experienced war veteran who is at a standstill with a younger guy.  Jude Law is trying to implore the youth to walk away since the youth doesn't even understand what he is fighting for.  But the youth says he has something on his side: the confidence of youth.  I think we shouldn't underestimate our need to recall that every now and then.

Why Do We Want It All?

Recently, there's been a lot of debate on the Atlantic's cover story of women having it all, or rather the inability of women to have it all ( http://www.theatlantic.com/debates/women-workplace).  Reactions have ranged across the spectrum: those who approvingly nod, those who deride the backward step for feminism, those who think it's ridiculous for people to even expect to have it all.  Regardless of which view one takes, I think most people acknowledge that there's this concept of having it all.  It's just a matter of defining what "it all" means.  Some people take it to mean a great career and a great family life.  Some people will take it to mean finding happiness with what you have and acknowledging that life has a balance.  But this got me thinking: Why do we want it all?  Can we ever have it all?

I think it's a bit misguided to classify wanting it all as a problem for only the 1%.  It's easy to say that most people only care about paying their mortgage and feeding their kids, and that they don't have the illusions of having it all.  That those high-powered people complaining about not being able to spend enough time with their kids, despite having the perks of great pay with flexible hours, are just asking for too much.  Maybe to some extent it is true, that this is a problem for privileged people, who have the luxury of choice.  But I think most people want more.  From the highly-educated tenured professor who wants a power position in D.C. to the college graduate who wants to be more than a cog in the machine at a big corporation, to the single working mother who wants to do right by her children, to the children of the slums who want to escape poverty.  I don't think people ever stop wanting more.  Wanting it all.  There's always some hurdle to cross, some new challenge, something to cross off the list.  There are those who rationalize that they've done enough, that they've seen enough ... but does this rationalization mean that they have it all, or does it just mean they've accepted what they have?

Maybe this acceptance is the best we can do.  But it's what creates that nagging feeling within us that makes it seem like we are just trying to be happy because we've reached our limit.  I think when people blame wanting it all as a 1% problem, they are overlooking the power of this feeling.  They think, "The rest of us would be happy with what you elitists have, why can't you?"  But everyone wants to believe that they can achieve more than their limit.  We see the whole world now--people within our group, below our group, above our group.  Technology connects us so that we can constantly compare, whether it's through social media, international business, travel.  We see what is possible.  We don't realize that it's not possible for everyone.  We try to convince ourselves that it is, that we went to as good a university, that we're just as good looking, that we're just as capable.  It's easy to say that we shouldn't care about measuring ourselves against others, and that we should only care about what makes us happy.  But I think what makes us happy is largely tied to what we perceive is possible, and I don't know anyone who is capable of just shutting that off.  Maybe the most awesome person in the world doesn't have this problem.  But I like to believe that people like Obama and Merkel still have this nagging feeling.

I've touched on this before, but I think it has a lot to do with our need to find purpose.  To know that we matter.  To know that we have a reason for existing.  To validate our belief that we are unique, that our souls are special, that we make a difference.  We keep working, we keep expanding our circle of family and friends, we turn to religion, we pursue happiness.  We're constantly looking for something to validate us.  But ultimately, no amount of wealth or success or love can do that for us.  It may just be that we're on a self absorbed quest with no answer, and the best we can do is live with that nagging feeling.  Until someone says we are David, we are Ruth or Tommy or Kathy, we may never be able to find that peace.  That scares me a little.

India

Since I've been in Singapore, the country I have visited the most has been India.  I first went due to work, and while most of my subsequent visits have also been work related, ew, st, dk, and I did spend a considerable amount of time in Ladakh searching for a snow leopard.  Before I first went, I had no real desire to ever see India.  I had heard great things about the Taj Mahal, the swamp waters of Kerala, Goa, and of course the craziness of Mumbai.  I had heard about the transformative nature of ashrams, in the Eat, Pray, Love mold.  But for some reason, India was never one of those countries that I had on my list of countries to see.  Maybe it's because it seemed too big, too difficult to tackle.  Or maybe it's because despite all the hearsay, no one I personally knew had ever come back with a positive report.  There were tales of food poisoning, scammers, inefficiencies, hordes of people.  And after being there, I can say firsthand that all of those things are in fact true. India is a very difficult place to visit, and I still don't have a great fondness for going there.  But it is unique in that I think it really gives us a window into the large disconnect between perception and reality.  When I worked in the U.S., India was considered an emerging market with an incredible growth story: the world's largest democracy with an English speaking population that would be poised to take over all the white collar jobs.  When I'm in India, I see the majority of the population mired in poverty, with basic infrastructure requirements sorely lacking.  People want to talk about the success of Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad.  They don't want to recognize that aside from the major cities, the rest of India is still a rural state.

It's nicer to think about India in that yoga, kama sutra, darjeeling tea context.  India is such a large country that it is easy to get away and find yourself.  Ladakh is a desolate region, particularly in winter, and is beautifully tranquil.  I've been to Gandhi's main ashram in Ahmedabad, and for a moment, you are able to think, this must be the true India.  But then you walk by the half-completed buildings with construction rubble just lying around.  The stench of sewage.  Roads that have no separation, so you're going against oncoming traffic.  To some extent, India reminds me of Africa.  Little to no infrastructure for basic needs, like power and clean water.  But in Africa, it's more sparsely populated, so people aren't fighting so much for everything.  In India, since everyone lives on top of each other, everyone is fighting for every inch. 

I asked my Indian coworker whether he thinks Indians are a pessimistic or optimistic people.  He said he would be inclined to believe they are pessimistic.  I was initially puzzled by this because how can a developing country, with so much opportunity for rapid growth be pessimistic?  But then you think about how nothing has changed.  Every visit to China brings something new--a new road, a new industrial park, a new shopping center.  In India, there's a paralysis in government, in having too many voices.  And people support this paralysis because they just want to be heard but do not want to act.  So there's a lot of rhetoric that insinuates change, but at the end of the day, most of the country is still in poverty.  It's hard to see this changing any time soon.

When you fight for every inch, you lose a bit of empathy.  When I worked at JPMorgan, poor treatment of analysts was justified by, "this is what I had to go through to get to where I am."  People think that if they experienced a struggle, a fight for every inch, then they earned everything they have.  And that anyone who suffered less does not deserve the same.  It's this idea of meritocracy.  That they somehow worked harder.  But there are plenty of people who work hard who just don't get the same breaks in life.  Life is not fair.  And if life is not fair, meritocracy is a myth.  In Asia, it's a constantly perpetuated myth, whether due to cultural reasons or the fact that people are fighting for every inch.  And I think it's hurting countries like India.    It's not uncommon to see Indians treat their countrymen with disdain, whether it's because they are blue collar workers, of a lower caste, or maybe because they simply think that money makes them more important.  It's hard to rise when your own people are trying to keep you down.

Despite all this, India is yoga, kama sutra, darjeeling tea.  On a clear day in the quieter town of Ahmedabad, it's easy to get lost in this.  Or while sitting on the lawn at Rambargh Palace in Jaipur.  Or when climbing a ridge in the Ladakh Himalayas.  There's a diversity and a definite cultural identity to India.  And if you have a little empathy, there's something to be found there.

Facebook

I remember when I first signed up for Facebook.  It was junior year of college, and you had to have an affiliated university email to sign up.  I remember thinking it was pretty cool, since there was a feature that connected you to everyone who was in the same class as you.  One of my first acts on Facebook was to message a girl I kind of knew in my organizational behavior class, asking her if there was any homework due the next day.

Fast forward eight years, and for some reason, I've been off of Facebook for almost two years.  Well, the reason is actually pretty simple--I entered my password incorrectly a few times, was locked out, and my Facebook account was tied to my UC Berkeley email (which I no longer had access to), meaning that there was no way for me to reset my password.  I never ended up signing up for another account, but it was probably due more to sheer laziness than anything else.

Rewind a couple years though.  From what I remember, Facebook's main purpose back then was to allow you to "stalk" people.  Since most users in your network were basically your peers, no one ever felt compelled to censor their posts, set up privacy settings, or worry about their image.  It was basically a forum for college students to show off their lives to each other, for better or for worse.  You could get a window into the life of someone you barely knew.  To some extent, it was the next step in the evolution of the Internet geek.  Before, you had to talk to girls directly.  With the advent of the Internet, you could hide behind IMing.  With the advent of Facebook, you could poke or send an innocuous friend request.  Remember that high school crush you barely talked to?  Well, you could Facebook her and see what she was up to.  Maybe these connections would ultimately lead to nothing, but there was the slight chance that the new you could attract the old crush.  It's a bit funny in hindsight.  As much as we always try to move forward in life, a part of us will always be tied to our formative years, of trying to fit in, of trying to look cool, be popular, be "successful," whatever that term may mean.  Facebook found a way to bring that desire to everyone every day, instead of forcing us to wait until our high school reunions.  

I've been debating whether to go back to Facebook.  It does seem like an easier place to meet friends--rather than being forward and going through the awkwardness of hanging out, feeling out people's likes/dislikes, you can monitor each other through Facebook, develop a bond by posting comments on each other's walls (or is it timelines now?), and develop a rapport online before meeting.  And being in a new city where you don't have the bonds of your past, that could be pretty helpful, especially since I've been told numerous times that I'm a hard man to know.  So why can't I seem to make myself take the plunge?

I'm not particularly interested in going to my high school reunions.  Thinking back to when I was a Facebook user, my network wasn't much wider than the circle of people I still talk to today.  So for me, I never fully embraced the connect with anyone mentality.  And with today's Facebook, I think you need to have that mentality to get the most out of it.  It's no longer the "stalking" vehicle it once was, as everyone has gotten access to Facebook, from employers to relatives.  So Facebook has lost a bit of its edge, as people have gotten much more careful about what they post and who they allow access to.  It has evolved to become a bit one-sided in a way.  People only put their best selves on Facebook--I'm not sure there is even a "dislike" feature (I randomly have access to Facebook when ew goes on).  The Atlantic put out an article last month asking if Facebook was making us lonely, because people see how "awesome" everyone's life is, and inevitably, if you're surfing Facebook at home, you're not out doing everything everyone else is.

Some people feed off of this.  It makes them feel connected to what's going on.  But it's why I have problems living in big cities like New York or Tokyo, even Singapore to some extent.  It does make me feel lonely.  I don't want to relive high school in the sense that I have to figure out where the happening parties are every weekend.  I don't want that pressure to always be doing something, to always be a part of a happening group/movement/trend.  I was recently in San Francisco, and even there, the vibe is becoming increasingly judgmental in this way.  If you're not part of the tech, hipster, artisanal products crowd, you're supposedly missing out on life.  

Something that has stuck with me is David Choe's comment that he thought Facebook was a completely ridiculous idea (despite now having hundreds of millions from it for providing artwork).  But when we think about how we interact with people, it doesn't seem so ludicrous.  People want to fit in.  The only thing that changes is the popular crowd.  In high school, it's usually the athletes.  Depending on your where you live, it's the entrepreneurs or politicians or bankers or artists.  And Facebook gives us that means to constantly check where we are relative to that crowd.

In writing this, I'm reminded of westerns like Lonesome Dove and All the Pretty Horses.  Characters like Call and John Grady Cole.  Loners who went against the current of the day, not caring that being a cowboy was no longer considered cool.  Maybe I gravitate toward those characters because I also yearn for that peace that comes from being alone.  Well, not alone in a literal sense, as Call had Gus and John Grady Cole had Lacey, but in the sense that a few real relationships are enough to get you through the day.  Is it necessary for us to connect with everyone?  I think about the trips I've taken to remote places, like Ladakh or Kedougou, and never once did I feel the need to check Internets, as I was able to really bond with ew, my sister, st, and dk.  Even in non-remote places like my trip to San Francisco, the intensity of being with vl, st, cl, and lb was enough such that I didn't need to find out what else was going on (and actually once lb used technology to find out what was going on, I would say the tenor of the evening changed).  I guess what I'm finally getting at is that maybe for now, I'll continue to be that cowboy, pushing against a sea of change.  And whether that gets me branded as uncool, I'm OK with that, as long as I have friends who are willing to take a ride with me every now and then.

Prometheus

Ew and I saw Prometheus last weekend, and due to a confluence of factors, it sparked a desire in me to give this blog another go, at least for this one post.  I think the reviews for Prometheus are mostly spot on--it's not a great movie but it is full of beautiful visuals and big themes.  Themes big enough where ew spent the entire weekend trying to understand the universe despite claiming that she thought the movie was just OK.  Themes big enough such that a week later, I'm still formulating my thoughts on it, especially since everything currently going on in my life seems to tie together with it.

A few weeks ago, with college graduations in process, a number of memorable commencement speeches began getting revisited online.  It's a bit of a strange feeling reading these speeches, as I'm still close enough to my college graduation such that I can grasp that feeling where the whole world seemed to be before me, but far enough removed where that world seems to be closing in on me, slowly but surely.  So it was a bit fortuitous to see David Foster Wallace's graduation speech from 2005 (which coincidentally was when I graduated college) (which is also now known as "This Is Water") since he so eloquently described the exact feelings that I have been having lately.  He describes how life is about surviving the day in, day out--the routine that all of us working professionals face, and the overbearing burden of that routine.  Growing up, there's always some milestone to work toward, whether it's getting into college, getting a job, grad school, proving yourself in your first job, etc.  But once you've been working for a while, and you get into that day in, day out routine--the 8 to 5 or 6, dinner, some TV or exercise, sleep, repeat--you begin to feel a bit worn down, and you begin to wonder whether there is any purpose to this life of ours.  Wallace brilliantly brings to light that everyone is hardwired to be self absorbed, and I'd argue that finding purpose seems to be the most self absorbed endeavor anyone can pursue.   How do we find happiness?  What does that mean?

Maybe it's a quarter life crisis.  Maybe ew and I just need to start having kids, worry about raising them, then worry about them leaving us, and that will at least take up the next 20 years or so of my life.  Maybe the problem for all of us is that we have it a bit too easy, where we become slaves to our minds, because we have it so good where we don't have to worry about things like finding meals or shelter.  Wallace encourages us to try to think differently, to be more empathetic to people and less self absorbed.  Only then will we find that we can loosen the grip that our minds have on us.  Buddhists meditate to clear their minds, hoping that one day they can achieve a state of zen, of fulfillment.  All of these things seem way too difficult.

Which brings us back to Prometheus, which packages this quintessential exploration for purpose into a science fiction movie.  Despite having an ultimate faith in something unexplainable (God), Noomi Rapace's character goes on an expedition searching for her engineer, tangible proof of a creator.  Something to explain humanity.  And it is this paradox that brings me back to This Is Water--that we all worship something.  Whether it is God, some space engineer, some moral code, we all have some "irrational" belief system.  And therein lies the theme that has been staying with me since I saw Prometheus: maybe we're actually David (the android) and we just don't want to admit it to ourselves.

The other night ew left for Paris on business, and as usual, I had a hard time falling asleep without her.  So I was up late and happened to drift off into cyberworld.  I stumbled upon new clips from the upcoming Amazing Spider Man, and began thinking how much I actually like Andrew Garfield.  This led to a search of other movies he's been in, which ultimately led me back to Never Let Me Go.  And I began recalling the haunting novel, of the hope and despair of Kathy and Tommy and Ruth.  The push for something more, something meaningful.  The realization of what David knew all along in Prometheus.  The acceptance.  And I couldn't help but think that maybe this is our life.  This is all it is.  There's a finality to that, but also a peace.  And maybe all we can do is cling to the world, and hope that it never lets us go.

Food

So in an attempt to revive this blog (though it remains to be seen for how long), I've decided to write about something that's been getting a lot of press lately: the closing of El Bulli.  As most people know, El Bulli is a restaurant in Spain that has been consistently ranked as the best in the world.  With its closing, food critics have waxed nostalgic about how El Bulli has revolutionized the way we eat food with its forays into molecular gastronomy.  But there's also been an increasing number of people that have wondered aloud what impact El Bulli has actually had, given that (1) very few regular people (i.e. non critics, celebrities, etc) were able to eat at El Bulli due to its massive waiting list, and (2) it's not a replicable concept since El Bulli employs 40 chefs for 50 people a night.  I'm not sure where I stand.

Some people call me a foodie.  What does this term actually mean?  I think it has taken on a form of food snobbery, where a foodie won't dare to eat anything deemed Philistine.  Do I like good food?  Of course, but who doesn't like good food?  But what does good food mean?  I've briefly touched upon this in previous blog posts, but I think this is where my thoughts of what a foodie is versus the general consensus diverge.

Back in San Diego, when I ate out, the restaurants I ate at the most were: Pho Ca Dao, Do Re Mi, and the banh mi place on Mira Mesa boulevard.  For those unfamiliar, that's a Vietnamese coffee shop, a Korean coffee shop, and a Vietnamese deli.  Probably next on that list was Rubio's (pretty much twice a week for lunch) and some form of a burger place, whether In N Out, Island's or Fuddrucker's, all of which are chain restaurants.  None of these places ever end up on San Diego's "Best Restaurants" list (though people do love In N Out).  So where does the foodie label come into play?

I think we're all seduced a bit by fine dining.  With the increased popularity of celebrity chefs and the Michelin stars, it's become another luxury item, along the lines of LV bags or nice watches.  You can't go wrong by saying, "I was able to secure reservations at a 3-Michelin-starred restaurant, and the food was incredible!"  Fine dining has definitely become entrenched as a part of the high life, and you aren't sophisticated unless you have sampled food from chefs like Adria, Ripert, and Blumenthal, or the finest wines from not only France, but Australia, Chile, and Napa.  And though I haven't tried El Bulli or Fat Duck, I have been to the likes of Le Bernardin and Chez Panisse, and I usually try to make an effort to try these highly regarded restaurants.  So how do I reconcile my seemingly divergent food tastes, from Pho Ca Dao to Le Bernardin?  Why do I scour the food blogs for the best meals in not only the cities I live in, but the ones I visit too?  Why do I feel that I am missing out on not having eaten at El Bulli, yet understand when journalists declare that those who write I Ate At El Bulli Pieces are really just practicing forms of public masturbation?  I think it boils down to value.

Most people don't have the means to eat fine dining very often.  So in deciding whether to splurge hundreds of dollars for one meal that lasts for only a few hours, I think people want to know that the food is amazing, and not just something that they could make at home.  And too often, fine dining establishments prepare a simple tuna tartare or grilled protein, and it just isn't very inventive for the price they charge.  And I think the majority of the fine dining establishments, Michelin-starred restaurants included, work to this effect.  Yes, the ingredients are fresh.  But if you're just going to pan sear some duck and finish it in the oven, I don't expect to pay over $100 USD for it.  I know generally how much nice ingredients cost, and while you may cook it slightly better than I would myself, it's not worth that much more.  And because fine dining has turned into this luxury item, restaurants can get away with it.  The Michelin star has given people who don't even care about food the means to claim status and induce envy.  Also, most well-respected fine dining establishments require reservations well in advance, which only adds to the exclusivity.  Fine dining in a way has become more of a brand, which makes it harder and harder to figure out where the value is.  And so I search for this value, and most times, I'm somewhat disappointed by this metric, but sometimes there are great places like Quay's lunch, or Club Chasse's a la carte menu, reminding me of why I scour blogs for the best food recommendations.

The problem is that there's little middle ground in food circles.  People either say the best food is in fine dining, or the best food is in hole-in-the-wall restaurants.  I know that neither statement is true.  Just as fine dining has developed a brand, so too has the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.  Just because it's no frills doesn't mean that it serves great food.  Plenty of hawker stalls and coffee shops in Singapore are not very good.  Sometimes the meat isn't that fresh, the noodles aren't cooked properly, the food is over-seasoned.  It may be only $3 SGD, but it's probably not even worth that sometimes.  Yes, from an absolute basis, it's not quite the same as fine dining, but there's still no value there.

Food has started to take on the same form as films, with fine dining representing the large celebrity blockbusters and hole-in-the-walls representing the small, independent films.  And there tends to be a divergence among the supporters of each, but it is up to us as consumers to find value across the entire spectrum.  We're not always in the mood for the same thing; sometimes we may want a multiple course kaiseki, and other times maybe local snacks or home style food.  I think when we talk about food, we often miss this point.  People say there's only good food and bad food, but this isn't quite true.  I think mood and what you're looking for can really influence what tastes good and what doesn't.  If I've had a week of really light and clean flavors, maybe I'm looking for something bold and heavy.  If I've eaten a lot of meat recently, maybe I want some really nice vegetables.  ew was sick when we went to Le Bernardin, and to her, the food was nothing to write home about.  Oftentimes, we wait hours in line for a table, or have to plan months in advance for a reservation--do these hurdles impact our dining value proposition?  Absolutely.  Why wait in line for half an hour for the "best" chicken rice, when you may be able find a comparable version without a wait.  All these things factor into food value.  And so while I lament never having tried El Bulli, it never was a realistic option for me.  It's an indulgence, a splurge ... something that really doesn't matter in my day-to-day search for the best food to eat.

Adjusting to Singapore

So ew and I finally found a place that we can possibly afford ... as long as I find a job somewhat soon.  And after a rocky first couple of weeks here in Singapore, things have somewhat normalized, as we're getting into a normal routine.  Ew heads to work, I job search, and occasionally we'll cook and exercise.  Pretty much the normal life for most residents in a city.  However, there are some differences that do make Singapore much different from living in the states, for better and for worse.

Target

Typically, the first thing I've done after moving into a new place is head to Target.  Cleaning supplies, bedding, kitchenware: pretty much anything you need you can get at Target.  Well, there's no Target in Singapore.  So figuring out where to buy things and how much everything should cost was actually a quite larger hurdle than one would think.  There is Giant here, which is similar to Target in that it carries a lot of different products, but we ended up buying things from a combination of Giant, department stores like Tangs and Takashimaya, and supermarkets like Fair Price.  The other inconvenience here is that obviously without a car, lugging around all these things is somewhat difficult.  Which brings me to the second item on this list ...

Taxis

I hate, hate, hate taxis here.  For cities where residents rely on public transportation to get around, you'd figure that taxis should be very convenient and affordable.  In Hong Kong, Taipei, you can pretty much hail a taxi wherever you are, and the most any fee would be around the city area is $10 US.  Well, Singapore's taxi system actually isn't that expensive when you're just talking about a metered fare.  $10 US would definitely suffice going from the city to our place, which is maybe 10-15 minutes west of the city by car.  But the chance of you only paying the metered fare is quite slim.  See, Singapore taxis have tons of surchages.  A $2.50-$3.50 booking fee charge.  35% of metered fare during peak hours charge.  50% of metered fare after midnight charge.  Location charges from the city area, from the airport, from Marina Bay Sands.  This means that taxis disappear all the time, so (1) you either have to call and book a taxi and pay the surcharge, or (2) you end up queuing for half an hour until a peak time period when the taxis suddenly all decide to show up.  Recently, ew and I took a taxi from the city centre to our place, where the metered fare was around $9 and the surcharge was $6.50.  So obviously, the best bet is to avoid using taxis, but then ...

Walking is very tiring

Maybe it's because I'm from California, where you drive everywhere, but I am not used to walking this much at all.  Especially when I have to carry groceries back home, or DVD players, or cable boxes and routers.  And since it's hot and humid, you end up having to wear sandals a lot of the time, so by the end of the day, your feet are covered with dirt, extremely dry, and pretty much disgusting to look at.  Maybe this is how the Singaporeans stay so thin.

Say you what?

People always say Singapore is a place of many cultures and languages.  This is very true.  People speak Malay, Chinese, Tamil, English, Hokkien, etc.  However, everyone speaks these languages poorly, at least English and Chinese.  Singlish is pretty much like Chinese, except if you literally translated it to English.  And the Chinese is very accented and ends up sounding like the Singlish.  So ew and I pretty much have no idea what anyone is ever saying to us and in what language.

We will never go hungry

But with all those cultures, there are tons of food options.  I think our area has 5 hawker centers right next to each other, serving a variety of Singaporean, Malay, Indian, Western, and Chinese food.  And since hawker centers are typically very affordable ($3-$5 SGD), it's hard to imagine us ever really going hungry in this city.  There may be more restaurants/snack shops/food options here per block than any other city I've been to.  And of course, aside from restaurants, there's the fruit.  Fruit juice stands are pretty much as plentiful as restaurants, with simple options like watermelon juice, to more exotic options like dragonfruit, soursop, and sugarcane.  And durian ... well, that smell follows you everywhere.

Data is cheap

Internet, cable TV, and data phone services are all very affordable.  And there are tiers for those who want less expensive options.  Consider that internet, cable TV, and a landline are less than $60 SGD a month here through Starhub, and two data plans are less than $70 SGD a month through Singtel (which includes up to 12 GB of data as well as two phones).  Not to mention, there's pretty much free wireless access throughout the city area as well.  Aside from food, this may be the most affordable item in Singapore, because pretty much everything else is slightly more expensive than the United States.

Off to a Rocky Start

So just took a really long hot shower to wash off one of the crappiest days I've had in some time.  Maybe it's because I'm getting sick, but after months of anticipation with what Singapore would be like, ew and I had a rude awakening today.  And no, it's not the weather.

The weather has actually been quite pleasant.  At least pleasant enough to walk short distances (despite our feet feeling really sore).  Singapore also has lots of shade everywhere, so you never really have to walk in the sun, and you get some nice breezes for the moments you aren't in a shopping mall.  No, the rude awakening is actually realizing that the only people who can afford to live in Singapore are (1) Singaporeans who live with their parents, and (2) expats on ridiculous stipends.  Pretty much the only thing affordable in Singapore is food, where hawker centers selling dishes for $2-$5 is a better value than buying groceries and cooking yourself.

The biggest culprit to living in Singapore is finding housing that won't cost you your whole monthly salary.  Apparently two bedrooms in the city will cost upward of $3.5k, and that's probably for hdb housing.  Hdb housing was constructed by Singapore's housing and development board, so all the layouts are very similar, and they were intended to house Singaporeans.  Condos and apartments, private residences, will cost more than that.  If you go to the edges of the city center, you're looking at $2-$2.5k for hdb, and $3-$3.5k for a two bedrooms.  And these aren't nice two bedrooms persay.  Ew and I spent the whole day looking at housing around the west side of the city (close to Biopolis where ew is working), and in all hdb flats, the shower is shared directly next to the toilet SE Asian style.  For those of you who do not know what that is, there is no separator for the shower, so once you take the shower, the whole floor will get wet.  The plus side of hdb is that it is larger.  We viewed a place in Chinatown that was close to $3k for about 400 sq ft.  Our agent told us that fresh out of university, a Singaporean will make about $2.5k a month, and after 5-8 years, about $4k.  So pretty much the only way they can afford housing is if they stay with their parents, which apparently, a majority of Singaporeans do.  Just don't know how people live in this city ...

... which brings me to ridiculousness No. 2.  So after getting our employment and dependent passes from ew's employer today, we figured we'd try to set up a handset (cellphone) plan.  Initially, we were quite optimistic, as you can get about 200 minutes, 500 sms (texts), and 12 gb of data for $41 per month.  (Minutes cost a lot here, so it seems everyone just sms's ... something I will have to get accustomed to).  In addition to that, if we sign a two-year contract, we can get a free windows 7 phone, or an htc phone for much cheaper.  Alas!  Imagine our surprise after finding out that SingTel cannot issue 2-year contracts to people with employment passes for 1 year or less (which ew is on).  The funny thing is, ew's employer has an offer letter to her for a period of 3 years, and said that it's a bit ridiculous they have to renew the employment pass every year.  So that has left us with two options ... either suck it up and get the 1-year contract and pay about $400-$800 for a phone, or figure out an alternative (prepaid plans?  but still need a handset).  Needless to say ... we are in a holding pattern on this until further guidance from ew's employer, though we're not optimistic at all.

So after spending about 12 hours out of the house today with only rejection and a scratchy throat to show for it, I'm not quite sure how Singapore is livable.  At least not yet.  At least while I do not have a job.  Maybe ew is right, and that we're basically stuck in the worst of all worlds ... (1) we look Asian (she claims whites get better treatment), (2) we're not from Singapore,  and (3) we have no cushy package to fall back on.  But maybe every new city needs this type of adjustment.  Maybe I was expecting more because I wanted it to be easy, because it is such a difficult transition, with never visiting Singapore before, with very few friends here, with no job.  But all we can do is rely on each other and rage.

Australia

After Hong Kong, ew and I made a trip to Australia before coming to Singapore.  We figured that if we were planning on going back to the states for the holidays every year, this would be one of the few chances we could go to the Australian Open while guys like Federer and Nadal were playing.  So we decided to go to Melbourne and Sydney, postponing a trip to the northern part of the country (which seemed to be fortuitous given the floods and Hurricane Yasi).

Australia as a whole is basically the California of the Southern hemisphere.  First, the weather is quite similar.  Warm summers, but there are distinct seasons where the temperatures cool.  Second, the coastline is pretty much the same, with the Great Ocean Road the analog to Highway 1 (though I must say, from what I've seen, the Great Ocean Road is a bit more spectacular).  But the real similarities in really in the cuisine and the lifestyle.  It's a very diverse country (at least in Melbourne and Sydney), with Australians, Europeans, and Asians all there.  As one would expect, this leads to a diversity of food.  "Australian" cuisine is similar to that of California, with emphasis on clean flavors and local fresh ingredients, but what most people eat every day is a mixture of different cuisines, much like we do in California.  One day it may be Thai, the next Spanish tapas, the next Malaysian or Chinese food.  It's also a very casual and relaxed country, with beach culture very prominent (something like over 90% of people live along the Australian coast), so you see people walking around in boardshorts and casual wear pretty much everywhere you go.

We spent about half our time in Melbourne and half our time in Sydney.  Melbourne feels a bit like Montreal in its setup, with a city centre that has all the office buildings as well as some retail and food, but with surrounding neighborhoods that showcase more of the city, like Carlton and Fitzroy (akin to Mont Royal).  The city centre itself reminds me of Vancouver with its grid-like structure.  What distinguishes Melbourne from other cities is its cafe culture.  There really aren't any must-see sights in the city; there are some fairy penguins down in St. Kilda (Melbourne's beach town) worth a look, so the real draw is experiencing all the little side streets that are littered with cafes.  Apparently people in Australia are obsessed with espresso, though the latte I had wasn't anything spectacular (though I'm probably not the best judge of coffee).  But having an afternoon break or a brunch at one of the cafes really is a nice way to spend some time, and it really does give Melbourne an intimate feel.

Sydney in contrast is all about sights.  It's tough to really get a feel for the city since there are so many must-sees, so you definitely feel much more like a tourist there.  But probably the most impressive sight, and is the Blue Mountains.  It's about a two hour train ride from Central Station to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains, where ew and I did a full day abseiling and canyoning tour.  It was the first time either of us did either activity, and afterward, we both agreed it was probably the best thing we did in Australia.  There isn't a better way to see the scenery than to abseil down the side of a cliff.  And there isn't a better way to finish a canyon than to abseil down a waterfall.  We used the tour operator High N Wild, and their guides are definitely friendly, helpful, and encouraging.

The other highlights of Sydney revolved around food.  First, ice cream.  Australia is a bit different in California in that ice cream seems to be much more popular.  And after ew and I had dinner with one of ew's friends from Hong Kong, we stumbled upon a gelato place called Messina on Victoria St. around King's Cross.  Just know that it was good enough for ew and I to eat there every night thereafter for the remainder of our stay in Sydney.  Particularly good flavors are passion fruit and tiramisu.

Second, Quay.  Quay is the meal I wished Le Bernardin was.  Creative, no, inventive food.  With probably the best presentation I've seen in any restaurant.  It's right next to Circular Quay station, with a spectacular view of the Sydney Opera House.  Service was nowhere near what Le Bernardin was, but it didn't need to be with the quality of the food.  Ew started with a salad of Frech turnips and radishes, which combined with incredible goat cheese and a crispy dried olive, was very much "Californian."  My starter of sea pearls was beautifully presented, with yellowfin tuna, mud crab, eel and octopus, and sea scallop.  We both got the same entree, a lamb that was prepared in a way that neither of us had ever had (a braised loin), mixed with a delectable sauce and with a very unique and delicious garlic flower.  The last course was a white nectarine snow egg, which was a creme with a carmelized exterior in the shape of an egg, over a beg of nectarine flavored snow ice and ice cream.  While not quite as amazing as the previous two courses, it was a nice refresher to a 90 degree day.  The overall cost for lunch was a bit high: 85 AUD for two courses, and 105 for 3 courses, but without needing to pay service, it actually wouldn't be too bad if the exchange rate was better.  Which brings me to the final thought: the weak dollar makes Australia almost too expensive to travel to.  Prices are much higher in Australia, and the least expensive meal you'll likely see for one person will be about 15 AUD.

Hong Kong

The first stop for ew and me after leaving the states was Hong Kong.  There aren't any direct non-business class flights to Singapore, so we decided to spend a week layover in Hong Kong to hang out with ew's family.  The usual fare in Hong Kong is curry fish balls, egg nuggets, egg tarts, won ton noodle soup, and dim sum.  While it may be expensive to live in Hong Kong, you can definitely get around and eat for very cheap.  Curry fish balls are only around 6 HKD for a stick, egg nuggets around 10, egg tarts between 2 and 4, won ton noodle soup for around 40, and we had dim sum at Yau Ma Tei for 9 people for less than 500.  Keep in mind that the HKD/USD exchange rate is around 7.78/1.

This was the first time in awhile that ew and I had such a long time in Hong Kong with nothing to do, so we actually also took a side trip to Macau.  Let's just say that I really have no desire to go back.  Despite eating a delicious pork chop bun, Macau really doesn't have a lot to offer.  The casinos are not as centrally located as Vegas, and there really isn't the same energy that Vegas has.  When you walk into the casinos, it's basically serious gambling business.  And apparently the only game that Asians play is baccarat, which I have no idea how to play.  Hardly any blackjack or craps games going.  And I only saw one Wheel of Fortune machine in the Wynn.  Basically everyone gambling is nervously smoking, and it's apparent that the only reason why these people are there is to gamble.  Vegas has the allure of food, clubs, partying, and it's just a much more relaxes atmosphere.  Macau feels very stuffy and formal, and it just makes you wonder why these guys are taking losing money so seriously.  So unless you want to see the Portugese architecture, or the remains of the churches, I'd stay away from Macau.  

New York

After leaving California, ew and I headed off to NYC to visit my grandparents.  For me, NYC is a city that is great to visit, but probably for the same amount of time you want to be in Vegas.  The pace and energy level there is quite draining, as there always seems to be pressure to do something, anything.  It's kind of like when you were in high school, and if you stayed in on a weekend night, there was something seriously wrong with you.  NYC kind of gives you the same pressure.

Though the main focus of the trip was to eat Shanghainese food with my grandma, ew, my sister, me, and ay actually had a chance to go to a 3-Michelin star restaurant, Le Bernardin.  Ew was not feeling well, so she ended up getting dishes that had bases in broth, but was unable to really enjoy anything.  My sister and I ended up ordering dishes that we could share.  Ay copied my menu ordering (or the other way around).  Le Bernardin only has 2 menus: the tasting, and a 4 course for $112.  We all opted for the latter.  The first course that all of us ordered (except ew) was the tuna foie gras.  Definitely a memorable dish, with sashimi tuna pounded so delicately and thinly while placed over toast with a light hint of foie gras.  At first I didn't even realize the sheet over the foie was the tuna.  The second course: I ordered the langostine and my sister the grilled octopus.  The langostine was quite good, paired with delicious mushroom salad, and the grilled octopus was probably the best octopus I have had.  The third course: I ordered the black bass and my sister the seared hiramasa.  The hiramasa was definitely the winner, as the sauce that was paired with it was quite incredible.  However, the black bass (despite being Le Bernardin's signature dish) was really just OK: pan seared for a crispy skin, paired with an Asian soy based sauce.  I think overall, when it comes to cooked fish, I just don't think anyone does it better than Asian style and technique.  The fourth course was dessert, which was a good end to the meal, but nothing memorable.

So is Le Bernardin really a 3-star restaurant?  Well, the service is.  Probably the best service I have ever had at any restaurant, with waiters literally just waiting at your table to see if you need a refill of bread, water, or if they should get the sommelier to help you with wine.  Food?  Well two out of the four courses were quite good, but none of the preparations were truly mind boggling.  I know Eric Ripert's signature is simple preparations, focusing on the ingredients, but for a 3-star restaurant, I do expect some more creativity or inventiveness.  The food wasn't any different from the experiences I've had at 1-star restaurants like Chez Panisse or Blue Hill.  Maybe I'm expecting bold new flavor combinations or preparations that don't exist.  How many ways can you really prepare a dish without overcomplicating it?  But it goes back to my previous post about these Michelin star restaurants.  Just seems like there are more affordable ways to access the same, or at least close to the same level of food.

Leaving San Diego ...

Well, ew and I are finally in Singapore, though our arrival right before Chinese New Year has delayed our ability to actually get settled and look for our own housing.  So right now, we're grateful to have some family here lodging us, until we can get bank accounts, phones, and our own place where we can finally hang up our clothes.  We moved out of our place in San Diego about a month and a half ago, and have really been living out of a suitcase ever since.  It's been difficult living in this state of limbo ... you don't really have the freedom to go and do whatever you want, and you don't have the security of actually having a place to live.  But now that we're in Singapore for the indefinite future, I figure I should get back to writing about all the things I forgot to write about while hectically leaving the states.

A lot of people asked what I would miss most about San Diego (well, maybe not a lot of people, just my own thoughts really), and I had a hard time coming up with an actual list.  Most cities are generally similar once you actually live there ... work, exercise, find something to eat, get a drink.  So are there specific spots in San Diego that I'll particularly miss?  Pho Ca Dao in Mira Mesa was probably my most frequented restaurant, and while their broken rice was the best I had in San Diego, I'm not sure if Asia will really be lacking in Vietnamese food.  Churros el Tigre probably won't be available outside of the states, but we went there so infrequently (mostly because the vendor always moved places) that it's hard to imagine me truly missing a churro cart.  None of San Diego fine dining was truly memorable, from Mille Fleurs to A.R. Valentien.  Bars?  Syrah?  Altitude?  Both memorable spots, but none that can't be found in any other city.  So upon reflection, I think what I'll miss about San Diego is not so much in what I did, but small cultural differences, like being able to listen to pop music.  Keeping up to date with movies.  Watching sports live.  Playing basketball.  Weather.

Growing up in San Diego, you sometimes take the town for granted.  It doesn't have a lot of industry, great variety of food, and it tends to be an older demographic of people, but it has incredible weather.  One where you can enjoy the outdoors, whether it's by the beach or at the CVRC basketball courts.  It's a very livable city, despite its reliance on driving 20 minutes everywhere, as there's enough access to get mostly everything you would want.  It's a place I definitely appreciate growing up in as a child, and even discovering again as an adult, and I can understand why my parents chose to settle down there.  But sometimes we have to see other places in life, and that's where I am right now. 

Tangled

I remember seeing a trailer for Tangled several months ago and not really understanding what the movie was about.  It looked like another animated film that was more silly than anything else, with Rapunzel being redefined in a similar mold as Princess Fiona, the spunky, fights-her-own battles princess from Shrek.  So when Tangled was released recently, I didn't pay it much attention, and since Ebert didn't review it, didn't bother reading any of the reviews of Tangled.  But somehow, the movie overtook HP7 for the top box office spot, got a nearly 90% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and ew started hearing about its merits by word-of-mouth.  And given that the film is animated, word-of-mouth was all ew really needed to convince her to get me to go see it with her.  So, contrary to what I usually do with movies I want to see, I just went and saw it.  No reviews beforehand, no plot synopsis, not even really aware of the cast members.  And I have to say, Tangled really surprised me.  In a good way.

Tangled really should have been pitched the way The Princess and the Frog was last year.  Maybe Disney was scared to because of the poor reception Princess and the Frog received, but Tangled really represents a return to the animated movies that we grew up with, from Little Mermaid to Beauty and the Beast, to Aladdin, to Lion King.  I'm as much of a Pixar fan as everyone else, but sometimes Pixar seems to be too self-aware, whether it's with pop culture references, moral messages, or a seriousness that animated films didn't have back in the day.  So it is refreshing to see a movie that takes us to a world where princesses fall in love, where ruffians and scoundrels are really soft inside, where magical kingdoms exist and prosper in peace (aside from the one deranged person).  Tangled represented all that made us fall in love with Disney: the path of self discovery in a slow, touching, emotional, and musical process.  It is really a movie that became quite beautiful, and has a scene and song that really rivals Kiss the Girls and Aladdin's magic carpet ride.

A Day in the Life of a PhD

I remember in undergrad, cy briefly dated his Italian TA, and after it ended, he told me to never date a PhD student, because they have no time for you and can be a little crazy.  And now that ew has finally completed her doctorate, I can say that there is some truth to cy’s assertion.  Obviously that didn’t deter me, as ew and I are now married, but there are some very important realities that I learned from dating a PhD student for over 5 years.

Not all doctors are created equal

Typically, we associate higher education with increased earning potential.  Especially when graduate school yields you the title of doctor.  However, this does not apply to PhD students.  In fact, earning a PhD probably has sapped most candidates of their earning potential, since the jobs awaiting a PhD essentially lead to more academic positions that pay very little, or an industry job that pays no more than someone who already has 5+ years of work experience.

Science inevitably must come first at some point

PhD students at some point HAVE to graduate.  They are bound in very low-salary positions to an advisor, lab, and/or collaborators that may drive them bananas.  Since research is actually ground-breaking, things don’t always work.  Projects don’t always go as hypothesized, dead-ends are fairly common, and there’s quite a bit of luck involved with finding a publishable topic.  Because of this, research can drag on for years before an actual dissertation is formed, and once you’re in the middle of research, it’s nearly impossible to start over and switch groups if you do find the work environment untenable.  So at some point, usually after 4 years, PhD candidates tend to think to themselves, “I am wasting away the prime years of my life with no earnings in this god-forsaken lab.  I have to graduate and get out of here.”  And so, science must come first.  A weekend trip is considered a visit to the lab, evenings are dominated by ways to figure out the proper chemistry or experimental design, nights are spent restlessly thinking about how to graduate.

PhDs are conflicted people

The appeal of a PhD is in fact working on things that no one else has done.  Research by nature is intended to make you feel stupid; if you do not feel stupid, then you are probably not doing any interesting work.  So the conundrum is that PhD students are generally smart people who do not like to feel stupid, yet they pursue a field that makes them feel stupid all the time.  Additionally, research does not pay well.  Companies will not fund nascent ideas, so research tends to be funded by governmental entities.  So there is no potential for upside of an IPO or buy out from a company; all intellectually property will be held by universities or national labs.  The only upside exists in the faint possibility of a Nobel Prize or similar name recognition among peers.  But again, PhDs see industry jobs as boring and unexciting, and thus seek a paradigm shift in the way the world treats new ideas.

I think the most important thing I learned about PhD students is that they need support.  Imagine starting a job that promised you the ability to indulge in your true passion in life, only to find out that your true passion is likely impossible to accomplish.  Then imagine that this job demanded you to always be thinking about it, work on the weekends, feel guilty about taking holidays, and barely paid you enough to live each month.  Then imagine that your work environment deteriorated to the point that you dreaded going into work every day, but you could not go search for another job because that would just restart the entire process you committed yourself to for the past few years.  And now imagine doing this as your first job out of school, and five years later, you’re in the same exact position while the rest of your friends you graduated with have moved forward with their lives such that they are working at jobs they either enjoy or at jobs that actually pay them money.  For those of us who did not earn a PhD, we’ll never truly understand the dedication, sacrifice, and effort it takes to graduate.  At work, I complain about making investments in environmental markets that don’t really have a framework.  For ew, she lived in a world that didn’t exist until she built it.  So yes, PhDs may be a little crazy sometimes, and they may not always focus on things outside their immediate world, but they’re essentially put in the worst work situation possible and somehow find their way out of it, usually with a new idea that can spur the advancement of something, no matter how niche or small it may seem.  And so, though ew says it was anticlimactic to condense 5 years of work into one 45 minute presentation, all I can say is that, those 45 minutes are more than I’ve contributed in the past 5 years.  Congrats ew, I couldn’t be more proud.

Nutcracker

This past weekend the gang and I went up to the Bay Area to kind of celebrate my birthday, but mainly to support st in his Nutcracker performance.  The quick birthday blurb is the restaurant that we ended up going to, a Japanese izakaya place called Tanto in Sunnyvale on El Camino, was quite exceptional.  The grilled octopus, the dashi soups, and the crab croquettes were highlights.  The roe pasta was also quite delicious.  But what made it exceptional was the price: definitely great value for the amount of food and alcohol we consumed; the portions were generally larger than I have seen at other izakaya places.

But the main event of the weekend was undoubtedly st's performance.  I hadn't actually seen a ballet performance since high school (which, incidentally was also the Nutcracker), so I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would I fall asleep like I usually do at the symphony?  Or would the visual aspect of the ballet keep me interested?  I did enjoy the ballet in Center Stage, but st repeatedly informed me that the ballet in Nutcracker really isn't anything special.  But would it even matter, considering that st was
performing as the Nutcracker prince?

A little background on st.  Despite his claims of doing tae kwon do, none of us have actually seen him show any sense of athleticism.  He tends to be afraid of the ball in ball sports, and he tends to be very lethargic and sleepy in everyday life.  Not to mention, he is quite afraid of interacting with other people, especially girls, so upon hearing of his casting as the titular character, most of us were quite surprised.  How would an unathletic, somewhat socially awkward, lethargic recluse demonstrate the necessary grace and emotion to connect with Clara and with the audience?

I think that st's willingness to even get this performance opportunity is quite contradictory to his normal character.  He didn't start learning ballet until he went back to Stanfurd for his masters and always maintained that he didn't want to showcase his skills (similar to dk, who still denies the spotlight with his piano playing).  So when he inquired whether to pursue a role in the Nutcracker, actually pursued it, and then actually accepted the titlular role, that showed incredible growth on his part.  And that is what this past weekend was really about.  To be comfortable with our inadequacies, but to try to better them, to try to change.  Maybe st wasn't the most graceful dancer out there, but he showed incredible passion and fluidity in his steps, and in that way, was brilliant in his performance.  It showed a sense of courage to let it all out there for others to see, a sense of vulnerability, and he did connect with the audience because of this, or at least his friends, who may have been skeptical at the begining, but at the end of it, were incredibly proud.  There was an article on Yahoo! Sports where Kobe was describing his mentality toward life, where you can either come out of things better than you are or you can crawl up like a coward into a little ball.  Oftentimes, st does the latter.  To see him do the former was what made the performance special.