The days are dripping. My stopping points are the weekend which can be incredibly slow and unproductive or exactly the opposite. This weekend is an example of the slow kind. I just enjoy not working. I have all these plans that are being shelved until the weather gets better (i.e. brief window period of summer). I eagerly look for any period that would be ideal for travel, even if it's just for a few short days.
The foreseeable line-up of course is a short trip to San Francisco in about a month. After that probably the brief stint in Denver for Julian's graduation in May. Otherwise, throughout much of the spring I will have my nose to the grindstone studying for the MCAT.
But for summer I'd like to have a few more mellow times to enjoy... well, the summer. I want to go to Painted Hills in the John Day Fossil Beds over in east-central Oregon. I want to visit Yori in Seattle. I want to go cliff-diving and fly-fishing in The Dalles with my buddy Jake.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Last night and this morning
This morning I couldn't hear much because last night I went to a black metal show with Russ. We went there to support our friend and old housemate Jon who has played in a few different metal bands since I met him back in '07. The crowd was small probably because it was a Wednesday night and Portlanders- even the hardcore metal ones- were anxiously anticipating snow.
Although I am not a fan of metal and its various sub-genres (there is a marked difference between black metal and death metal, according to fans), I enjoyed the show for a couple of reasons. First there is Jon, a shy and soft-spoken guy with long hair and remarkable musical talent. Then there are the others who are just hardcore. It's fun to people watch at these events. I had been to a couple of Jon's shows down in Eugene in the olden days.
At the end of the show, the crowd of perhaps 7 or so was standing there in the front row singing along to the band's final song "Hail Lucifer." Other hits that night were "Eternal Chaos" and "Doomsday Vigilante."
Then I awoke this morning with my ears under water. The first ten minutes of my day passed per usual: I angrily cope with fact that I am awake when I don't want to be. It's a bitter anger I feel when torn from the dream world in which I prefer to stay. But as always, the feeling wears off and I feel okay that I am awake after all. I was perfunctorily dressing when I gazed out the window and to my surprise found a winter wonderland outside. The streets, the trees, the cars were all covered in fluffy snow. Large soft flakes were falling in such a beautiful way. And for the first time in a long time, I was genuinely happy to be awake that early. In my isolated world of muffled sound and the silent peace of snow falling on fir trees, I relished everything.
Although I am not a fan of metal and its various sub-genres (there is a marked difference between black metal and death metal, according to fans), I enjoyed the show for a couple of reasons. First there is Jon, a shy and soft-spoken guy with long hair and remarkable musical talent. Then there are the others who are just hardcore. It's fun to people watch at these events. I had been to a couple of Jon's shows down in Eugene in the olden days.
At the end of the show, the crowd of perhaps 7 or so was standing there in the front row singing along to the band's final song "Hail Lucifer." Other hits that night were "Eternal Chaos" and "Doomsday Vigilante."
Then I awoke this morning with my ears under water. The first ten minutes of my day passed per usual: I angrily cope with fact that I am awake when I don't want to be. It's a bitter anger I feel when torn from the dream world in which I prefer to stay. But as always, the feeling wears off and I feel okay that I am awake after all. I was perfunctorily dressing when I gazed out the window and to my surprise found a winter wonderland outside. The streets, the trees, the cars were all covered in fluffy snow. Large soft flakes were falling in such a beautiful way. And for the first time in a long time, I was genuinely happy to be awake that early. In my isolated world of muffled sound and the silent peace of snow falling on fir trees, I relished everything.
Friday, February 18, 2011
best henry huang quote ever
in response to me thanking him for taking us on a night out on the town in shanghai:
"I would be proud to tell my son that I have ever been so crazy at that night!"
"I would be proud to tell my son that I have ever been so crazy at that night!"
Food for Thought
For Valentine's Day I cooked up a veritable feast for Shawna.
On my tailored menu I included:
- Apple fennel salad
- Southwest-style quinoa salad
- Home-made french fries sprinkled with paprika
- Pan-seared scallops in blood orange sauce
And in case you are interested in the scallop dish, I used this recipe (it's very simple):
http://fishcooking.about.com/od/scalloprecipes/r/bloodscallop.htm
Autumn in Another Place
Crisp blue November sky
and brittle plane trees;
the autumn is only subtly different
in this far place.
No matter how lonely it gets,
comfort comes with the familiarity
of only the past few months.
Extending before that
just speculations conjured
from books and fantasies.
The way the gray old buildings
sit like cracked tombstones,
the warming way steam billows
from vats of hand-pulled noodles.
The ugly street you develop a fondness for.
These are the things that remind you why you did it.
This is something I wrote recently when reflecting on a cold afternoon around 汉口西路 in Nanjing, November 2009.
and brittle plane trees;
the autumn is only subtly different
in this far place.
No matter how lonely it gets,
comfort comes with the familiarity
of only the past few months.
Extending before that
just speculations conjured
from books and fantasies.
The way the gray old buildings
sit like cracked tombstones,
the warming way steam billows
from vats of hand-pulled noodles.
The ugly street you develop a fondness for.
These are the things that remind you why you did it.
This is something I wrote recently when reflecting on a cold afternoon around 汉口西路 in Nanjing, November 2009.
disOregonized
circa July 2008
We turned a corner in the forest where things seemed calm, away from the parade of people prancing about in costume. We sat in theater seats beneath the shade of Douglas fir trees. The energy was exhausting and we needed to take a time-out. There was a piano there in the woods and a little girl in a white gown was playing it. A moment passed before I realized she was playing, but when it became apparent, the two of us fell into a deep and existential trance. The girl played Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I felt a world apart from the merriment of the people there and all I could think of was everything dark and sad in life like that was all there ever was. I got lost in the haunting music like the undertow of a wave. It was for a time the last thing either of us wanted. When the song came to an end we stood up, wandered back and rejoined the circus. And once more everything was merry.
How Pleiku became a blessing
Pleiku was an important site during the Vietnam War for a variety of reasons. To the west, the North Vietnamese army had bases in neighboring Cambodia. Furthermore, as it is centrally located in the country's highland region, Pleiku was a defensive stronghold for the Republic of Vietnam.
We arrived there past 10pm after an 8 hour mini-bus ride from Nha Trang on the coast. How many 8+ hour bus rides had we taken in the preceding months? Too many to count...
Exhausted, we searched around the town for a place to stay, but it was seeming pretty remote and not much was around. We eventually decided to splurge on a nice hotel which stood out significantly among the other drab buildings in the area. (By splurge I mean somewhere around $40 for the night). It was perhaps one of the best moments of our time in Vietnam.
That is not to downplay the exhilaration of riding a motorbike amidst a sea of a million other motorbikes in hectic Saigon. Or exploring one of the most amazing and underrated cuisines out there. Or relaxing over sweet & bitter coffee in a town that resembled European countryside, the Pacific Northwest, and Vietnam all rolled into one in the hilly city (Le Petit Paris) of Da Lat. Or spending all day on a deserted white-sand beach with turquoise waters and fresh seafood kiosks outside of Nha Trang. These moments, as well as others, were truly wonderful.
But to access those moments was another story, one that guidebooks and older brothers fail to elucidate in their tales of adventure in 3rd world countries. The reality of traveling becomes a burden at points in time. Things add up, such as heat and humidity, dirty clothes, language barriers, money-grubbing locals, liars, scammers, sketchballs, long bus rides (as mentioned), waiting...
So the hotel in Pleiku was rather a godsend. On the top floor was a banquet room where multicolored lights were flashing late into the night and old Vietnamese couples were ballroom dancing a live cover band's rendition of the Beatles song "And I love her."
Shawna and I took a shower and wrapped up in the soft bathrobes that the hotel supplied. We put on the slippers, blow-dried our hair, and took advantage of whatever amenities a 5-star hotel affords. We dove into bed, at least a queen-size with plenty of room to sprawl out, and fell into a deep sleep, snuggled up from the damp cold of outside. The frustrations of travel were temporarily relieved. That was a golden moment. Regardless of the fact that the next day we were to wake up early and cross a remote border into Cambodia with little preparedness, the hotel was our everything.
We arrived there past 10pm after an 8 hour mini-bus ride from Nha Trang on the coast. How many 8+ hour bus rides had we taken in the preceding months? Too many to count...
Exhausted, we searched around the town for a place to stay, but it was seeming pretty remote and not much was around. We eventually decided to splurge on a nice hotel which stood out significantly among the other drab buildings in the area. (By splurge I mean somewhere around $40 for the night). It was perhaps one of the best moments of our time in Vietnam.
That is not to downplay the exhilaration of riding a motorbike amidst a sea of a million other motorbikes in hectic Saigon. Or exploring one of the most amazing and underrated cuisines out there. Or relaxing over sweet & bitter coffee in a town that resembled European countryside, the Pacific Northwest, and Vietnam all rolled into one in the hilly city (Le Petit Paris) of Da Lat. Or spending all day on a deserted white-sand beach with turquoise waters and fresh seafood kiosks outside of Nha Trang. These moments, as well as others, were truly wonderful.
But to access those moments was another story, one that guidebooks and older brothers fail to elucidate in their tales of adventure in 3rd world countries. The reality of traveling becomes a burden at points in time. Things add up, such as heat and humidity, dirty clothes, language barriers, money-grubbing locals, liars, scammers, sketchballs, long bus rides (as mentioned), waiting...
So the hotel in Pleiku was rather a godsend. On the top floor was a banquet room where multicolored lights were flashing late into the night and old Vietnamese couples were ballroom dancing a live cover band's rendition of the Beatles song "And I love her."
Shawna and I took a shower and wrapped up in the soft bathrobes that the hotel supplied. We put on the slippers, blow-dried our hair, and took advantage of whatever amenities a 5-star hotel affords. We dove into bed, at least a queen-size with plenty of room to sprawl out, and fell into a deep sleep, snuggled up from the damp cold of outside. The frustrations of travel were temporarily relieved. That was a golden moment. Regardless of the fact that the next day we were to wake up early and cross a remote border into Cambodia with little preparedness, the hotel was our everything.
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