EpicureaNerd

Your English is so great; you don’t even have an accent!

2014-10-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

Every time I tell people that I moved to the US from the Philippines, that's almost always the 1^st or 2^nd thing they tell me, without fail.

Mind you, I don't get this just from folks who grew up speaking English -- although I could argue that I'm a much better English writer and speaker than Americans who think "your" and "you're" are interchangeable -- but from fellow immigrants as well. Every time, I feign a polite "thank you" and go into a short explanation I’ve perfected over the years, of how English is a 2^nd language for most Filipinos, and how I grew up watching Friends to mimic their accents, that flat, nasally, non-accent accent with a bit of upspeak?

Truth be told, my feelings about this seemingly innocuous comment are as complex and varied as there are accents in an episode of Downton Abbey. The only US show I can come up with for analogy is Modern Family, which I refuse to use because even they make a caricature of the one person who “sounds different” (looking at you, Gloria).

I can settle one thing right now, though: I love the English language. I love studying it, reading it, writing it, hearing it. As a child, I read English so well that I vividly remember my late uncle Jordan, who was a high school English teacher, drag my 9-year-old self in front of a group of high school juniors to read an excerpt from a book. Afterwards, he told the class “that’s how you read English.” I love the language because of its complexity, its vastness, and its messiness. You think there are rules, but then there are loopholes and exceptions to those rules! English is the US Tax Code of languages, basically.

And because English was such a foreign language that was a challenge to master, I had put it on a pedestal that made me feel falsely superior because I spoke it eloquently (relatively speaking). I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one that felt like this, and there’s probably a better anthropological explanation to it, but that’s how I felt about English growing up in the Philippines. English was my skill and my pride, my passion and my conceit.

Having a good command of the English language also made the transition to the United States a bit easier. Being a teen was hard enough; can you imagine being a teen and moving to a new country? Welcome to the United States of Insecurity, population: me. So back then, when people told me I spoke such great English “with no accent,” I beamed. It was the one thing I could be proud of, the one thing I had control over. That compliment – as I saw it – was a sign that I was assimilating to the American culture seamlessly. Look at you speak perfect English as you order a large pepperoni pizza from Costco. Would you like a giant soda with that?

A funny thing happened on the way to growing up, though. See, coming from the outside, I imagined the US as a homogeneous society, that there was only one way to communicate and fit in. I wasn’t exposed to the diversity that is the United States. Thankfully my family moved to San Gabriel CA, which had a euphony of accents found in the Chinese restaurants, the taquerias, the banh mi shop, the nail salons, Gabrielino High School, my parents’ workplace, everywhere. I started to appreciate the way someone’s native language influenced the way they spoke English, whether it’s Spanglish (only second to my favorite hybrid language, Taglish), or the brisk way a native Chinese speaker talked to me. Most importantly, I realized that my old notion that someone who spoke ‘perfect English’ was somehow better was wrong. It does not matter as much how you speak, but what you choose to speak about. I mean, the Kardashians speak ‘perfect English’ and I could probably gain more knowledge by moving a cat’s mouth apart. When I went to UC Berkeley, I met so many wonderful, brilliant friends from Thailand, Indonesia, Ukraine, France, etc. I loved listening to them in their accented English as we talked about college courses, economic theories, or just life. Throughout my career at Target, I’ve worked with highly skilled, intelligent individuals from East Asia and I’d much rather talk to them than listen to another mind-numbing conversation about the Bachelor.

My simplistic ideas of the value of the English language evolved over time, and I’m the better for it.

Which is why I have such conflicted feelings towards that comment: Your English is so great; you don’t even have an accent!

Nowadays, if someone tells me that, my first thought is that they’re really saying, “Your English is so great; I’m so glad you’ve learned to speak in a way that doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable.” Everyone should know by now that we actually live in a diverse world, and not everyone talks like your local news anchor. But, if I were to pass judgment that quickly, then that makes me no less prejudiced than my old self, when I used to smugly mock folks who can’t differentiate their “fees” and “pees.”

Maybe the person telling me I speak ‘good English’ really meant it as a compliment, like the time one of my ESL students showed genuine admiration for my immigrant story. I volunteered as an ESL teacher for a few months, and I could see how difficult it is to pick up a new language – any language – especially for an adult. So, I know their hearts are in the right place. I could only hope to share my knowledge of the English language with them as they try to make a new home in this strange country of ours.

Or, maybe someone is really surprised that I speak ‘good English’ because he or she thinks that every immigrant from a non-Anglo country speaks ‘broken’ English. If that were the case I would never know because either a) they’ll never admit to thinking that or b) they have that stereotype imbedded in their subconscious. Whatever assumption they make about me then is their burden to bear, though. It has no bearing on my self-worth, either positive or negative. I could only hope that they would be more exposed other languages and realize, just as I did, that it doesn’t matter as much how you sound, but what you sound out about.

Your English is so great; you don’t even have an accent! English is my skill and my ambivalence, my passion and my uncertainty.

Love is love is love.

2013-06-26T23:51:00.001-07:00

I'm not a politically savvy person. Hell, sometimes I think I'm not even qualified to talk about anything remotely debatable or controversial at all. I don't claim the ability to make in-depth analyses on today's pressing issues, and admittedly there are times when my opinions are based on nothing more than thinly-researched information (thanks for the easily digestible articles, Slate).

But, there is a particular issue that I feel passionate about that doesn't need much explanation, except to say that it's driven by this simple rule that governs us all: Do unto others what you want others to do unto you. I'm a supporter of LGBT rights, because I believe we should all treat each other with the same respect and love. I am invigorated by the changing attitudes about LGBT rights in the US. The Supreme Court ruling on DOMA and dismissal of the Prop 8 case just show to me that we're evolved enough as a people to understand and uphold something as pure and straightforward as the Golden Rule.

Our life is governed by rules, both universal and specific. I think the reason why people have such a strong opinion on this issue either way is because it either challenges or reinforces the rules they choose to live by. I know of people (relatives, family friends, acquaintances) who oppose same-sex marriage due to religious codes they follow. I can relate; I used to attend a church that espouses (no pun intended) that marriage is between a man and a woman. So, these recent rulings, as well as the same-sex marriage victories in 13 states + DC (so proud to live in Minnesota), can be really startling to people who have this narrow definition of marriage. Startled, maybe even angered, but I really don't think they will be harmed by it. Honestly, how can my two gay friends getting married be a threat to your marriage? I mean, I can see a fierce competition in the wedding planning business once we have more gay weddings (just remember to take your Xanax for Gay Summer Weddings). Kidding aside, what opponents of same-sex marriage fail to see is that while allowing same-sex marriages will do nothing to harm heterosexual unions, banning it can and does cause great injury to LGBT individuals. Again, think of the Golden Rule, or alternately "putting yourself in someone else's shoe." How would I feel if I was wantonly denied the right to marry someone because of their gender? I know of many solid, committed same-sex relationships that have the requisites of solid, committed marriages, so I believe they should be given access to the personal, social, and economic benefits of marriage accessible to opposite-sex couples.

I could definitely keep talking about the different reasons why I support gay rights, but I'll end with this:

Growing up in the Philippines, we were fortunate enough to have two housekeepers live with us, Ate Liza and Ate Jenny. I love them both very dearly, and they were great at running the house, picking us up from school, watching after us as we skated outside our apartment building, etc. Ate Jenny is what I'd call a tomboy; short hair, boyish clothing, and I was aware at a young age that her and Ate Liza were an "item." One day, when Ate Jenny picked me up from school (I must've been around 7 or 8), she went to use the restroom. I was confused as to why she went to the ladies' restroom; I remember asking her why she did that. I thought Ate Jenny and Ate Liza were a couple, so why would Ate Jenny use the girl's restroom? Like any 7-year-old, though, I quickly forgot about that moment and just went on my carefree, innocent life. Ate Jenny and Ate Liza remained a couple for a few more years, even after Ate Jenny stopped working for us. They would sometimes get into fights and break it off for a while, then get back together. I remained unfazed by it all, because really, what 7-year-old cares about adult stuff? It wasn't until years later that I finally realized that they were a gay couple. When I put this together, I felt...no different. No different towards Ate Jenny and Ate Liza, who I still keep in touch with. No different towards their relationship. No different towards my relationship with them. I did, however, start to question my relationship with the church I was attending. It wasn't heavily discussed, but I knew where the church stood on homosexuality, and I was confounded that they taught us to "love one another," unless you're gay. I also became more cognizant of family members who are gay, and wondered what would make them any less deserving of anyone's love and respect. I couldn't come up with any reason, because there was and is none. So, I started thinking for myself, and realized that I don't have to accept tenets that frankly don't make sense to me. It's been a looooong while since I've been to a church, and I don't feel compelled to find a new one, although I think it is beautiful that there are plenty of denominations that embrace the full meaning of 'love one another.'

It's really that maxim, along with the universal Golden Rule, that has guided me to a strong and steadfast position on gay rights. I may not be the most active supporter out there -- my contribution to defeat Amendment 1 in MN was modest -- but it is individual voices like yours and mine that create this tide of change.

Things I'm Thankful For, Thanksgiving Ed.

2012-11-20T22:24:00.001-08:00

I'm lying in my bed, getting my pillow wet from my still-soaked hair. I really shouldn't go to bed with a wet head, but I'm too lazy to blow dry it every night. Plus, I think it ruins your hair's cuticle if you use a blow dryer every night...or is that just something I made up? Then again, shampooing your hair every day is also pretty bad for your hair. That I'm pretty sure is true. I know all this because I read way too much useless crap on the internet. That's at least what I tell myself, but actually some of the stuff I learn end up being useful. If not for serious things, like saving a life, at the very least it's been useful for saving conversations that are clearly in need of a lifeline.
I'm thankful for: The Internet, hot running water, a comfortable bed to sleep in at night, (water-soaked) pillows, and for having a good job that allows me to have all these things in an apartment I can afford.

I'm listening to "Calm My Soul" by Paper Route on Spotify. Spotify is amazing; it's introduced me to so many great artists, and have turned me into a certified lover of any artist anyone suggests I listen to. Most of my friends and co-workers have good taste in music, so now I'm really into the Black Keys, Angus and Julia Stone, Mayer Hawthorne, Mumford & Sons, Fun., Ellie Goulding, Alex Clare, Swedish House Mafia, Regina Spektor, Lumineers, Of Monsters & Men, and my all-new obsession, The Civil Wars. I love this duo so much that I've pushed for my a cappella group to cover their beautiful, haunting song "Poison and Wine," a song I will never tire of. I'm really sad they stopped touring together. At least they're still releasing new songs in 2013. While I won't get to see them in the near future, I am super stoked to see Muse in Target Center next year. Yet another new (for me, not for the world) artist for me to love.
I'm thankful for: Spotify, amazing friends with really good taste in music (including, but not limited to, the Tune Ups), amazing friends with bad taste in music but who I love anyway, concert venues around Minneapolis that attract top artists (e.g. First Ave, Xcel, State/Orpheum), and music. Music is everything. I seriously don't know what life would be like without music. I bet you it's sad. Which is why I'm thankful for music.

I'm thinking of my trip to Chicago this past weekend. It was a marvelous short vacation. The weather was surprisingly warm all three days I was there. And spending those three days with my sister, her hubby, and her baby made the trip sweet perfection. It was great showing them around the parts of Chicago I'm familiar with -- the Loop, Wicker Park, River Architecture Tour -- as well as places we explored for the first time together (Lincoln Park Zoo). It was priceless seeing my niece Olivia smile so brightly every time I smile at her; it's impossible not to cheer up when that happens. Then, when she giggles and rolls around the bed or crawls up to me really fast, my heart just melts. I can't wait to see my entire family again for Christmas. It's going to be such a riot fest; my nephew Matthew will try his best to make his cousin laugh, my parents will spoil the entire family rotten with way too much food, my brother will take beautiful photographs, and the entire family will be together. Which is what matters above all else.
I'm thankful for: my niece, my sister, my brother-in-law, my parents for raising such good daughters and son, my brother, my nephew, my entire family, Chicago, photographs, facebook, cheap flights, airplanes, California, surprisingly good weather, and that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you're with family. It's inexplicable. It's irreplaceable.

I'm slightly nervous about hosting my first Thanksgiving dinner, but I'm way more happy excited. I'm going to stop by Lund's tomorrow to buy the last few ingredients for my side dishes...actually, let me just update my calendar reminder and allrecipes.com to make sure I have the right ingredients on my list... done. Here's hoping I can get vegetable stock from Lund's, because I definitely couldn't find it at my Target. I did get almost everything there, though, including turkey in a bag. It's like a fail-proof way to make turkey -- at least, that's what I'm hoping for. I also got the exclusive edition of the Hunger Games DVD. I'm planning on having us watch it after we've stuffed our faces with Thanksgiving food. I'm really not trying to go for irony here, or making parallelisms (like we're the Capitol citizens or something), I just want to see Hunger Games again. I've already moved my tables to make more room in my living room. I have a lot more cleaning and sprucing up to do, including (oddly enough) lowering my canvas painting a few inches down so it's more at eye-level. It shouldn't be too hard because of that leveler thingie I got a few months ago. Best $10 investment if you're going to hang a lot of wall art in your house/apartment, by the way.
I'm thankful for: that new Lund's on Hennepin, google calendar, turkey in a bag, home decor, Thanksgiving-themed paper partyware, crockpot recipes, stuffing, pumpkin pie, Hunger Games DVD, and friends to spend this special holiday with. I love Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for Thanksgiving.

Lastly, I'm thankful for this opportunity to just blab about things I'm thankful for. I'm so grateful to live such a comfortable, blessed life that gives me the time and the content to write random notes like this. I'm thankful for friends (real and imagined) who will read this and reflect on what they're thankful for in their own lives. There's just a lot of negativity going on around us every day, so it's important never to take the positive things for granted. I'm grateful for all the things that are right in my life, and there are a lot of them. And I'm thankful for that.

Running Around Reykjavik, London, Paris: The Travel Journal, Part II

2012-10-25T19:29:00.000-07:00

Day Five: Notre Dame, Latin Quarters, Rue de Rivoli, and Montmartre

Still in Soho, London...

11 PM – we should really be getting back to our hotel, since we have a train ride at 7 AM. Oh, wait, “We Found Love” is playing. OK, back to the dance floor!

11:30 PM – OK, one more song…

12:10 AM – Seriously, this is the last – OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG!!!

After finally dragging our butts away from the dance floor, we made our way back to the hotel (after witnessing a massive fight and a guy dancing in his underwear), knowing we were going to pay hard for this the next day. Or really, in a few hours at this point.

An hour and a half nap later, we got up at 4 AM to get ready for our trip to Paris. Eurostar leaves from St. Pancras station, which is directly across from Kings Cross. While I didn’t get to see Platform 9 ¾, it was still tickling knowing that it was just right next door. St. Pancras is a gorgeous station, prettier than some airports; it’s got amazing lighting, wonderful glass walls, and lots of stylish shops. None of them were open, though; we were there around 6 AM. At 6:40, they finally started boarding, and as I went up to the train track, all I could think of was the super ominous soundtrack from Bourne Ultimatum. You know, the one at the Waterloo Station and Jason Bourne is telling that journalist guy to hide and duck from the bad guys and stuff? Man, I love that movie.

St. Pancras International Station

Anyway, we finally got into the train car, and as much I would’ve loved to see us going through the English Channel, I knew I needed to get any shut-eye I can get. So, I doze off for most of the 2 ½ hour, 180 mph ride to Paris.

When I finally woke up, it was gloomy and wet outside, but who the hell cares? We’re in Paris! I’m in Paris! Look at me, dragging my bag on these Parisian streets. Watch me say “Je ne parle pas (Francais)”… in Paris! Actually, I could only muster out “Bonjour” before the person I’m speaking to replies in English, to save me from myself. Is it that obvious I don’t speak French? Apparently, it is. Anyway, because we had all our bags with us, of course we had to get bad directions and make a wrong turn, again. This was the second time it happened to us. One more and it would be a “thing.” Thankfully, we found our way to the bus stop and made our way to Danny’s friend’s apartment. We barely had time to unload our bags before we were out on our way to the Latin Quarter.

So, at this point, we’ve been operating on less than 3 hours of sleep, and the toll of traveling was starting to show on our faces. But, as soon as we emerged from the Saint-Michel metro station, it was like a switch turned on in our brains when we saw the wide Boulevard Saint-Michel, the River Seine, the cafés and the cobbled sidewalks. The cobwebs were swept away from my sleepy brain, and I began to really take in Paris – with a silent “s.” Danny saw how fast Margaret’s and my face lit up, so he told us to shield our eyes and led us a few steps forward to the intersection of Boulevard and Quai Saint-Michel. “Now look to your left.” And there it was. The Notre Dame Cathedral. You want to know what a gasp sounds like? It’s when you see the Notre Dame for the first time in your life. (Boy, little did I know I was in for more moments like this the next day. I’d have brought an inhaler, I’d be gasping so much.)

Holy crap, it's the Notre Dame

The cathedral was majestic, as expected. The Gothic architecture, the intricate carvings…the gargoyles! Don’t forget about the gargoyles! We went inside, and it immediately took me back to when I was inside the Almudena Cathedral in Madrid. I was most enthralled by the stained-glass windows; the different colors of glass created such a beautiful effect. I’m not religious, but I appreciate how someone can be really moved by visiting the cathedral, on a spiritual level.

By the time we exited the cathedral, we were famished, so we tried to pass a couple of the cafes before finally relenting and went for a “touristy” spot, to the Esmeralda Café. This was it, my first Parisian meal. Of course we had to sit outside; there was a perfect view of the street where we can watch people, the cathedral’s south side was to our right, and people were smoking into my hair. And, to put a cherry on top of this epically awesome sundae, there was an accordionist playing on the other side of the street. Seriously, can it get any more “Ratatouille” than this? To all my Francophile friends, please know that reference is given endearingly. I ordered a sandwich mixte with fries, and I love love LOVE that they have mayonnaise as one of their condiments. The sandwich was just eh, but I was too hungry to care. A tub of mayonnaise would’ve been awesome at this point. And, again, bigger picture here people…there’s a freaking accordionist playing something French across the street. And I’m people watching. I seriously had to pinch myself.

Le view from the cafe

After a satisfying lunch, Danny showed us around the Latin Quarter, and it was just so nice walking around these narrow streets and witnessing life around me. We stopped by a boulangerie for some baked goods. I got a pain au chocolat, which was buttery, flakey awesomeness. And when I saw the chocalaterie Maison Georges Larnicol and its displays of pastries, I knew I just had to go in and get some of those haute French macarons.

Mmmm, macarons

From the Latin Quarter, we took the metro to Rue de Rivoli for some retail therapy…and wine therapy. At this point, Margaret and I were crashing fast (even after I chugged a grande Americano from Starbucks), so Danny proposed we get some drinks and go from there. Now, I realize that wine makes you sleepy, but eh, whatever. It has sugar, so that’ll keep me up? We sat outside a café, this time with all our chairs to the back of the restaurant so we were facing the street; this was so fascinating to me, having chairs literally set for people watching. So, there we were: ranking the hotness of people passing by, Margaret sipping on her coffee, Danny drinking his wine, and me snapping in and out of sleep.

Perfect people watching spot on Rue de Rivoli

After we finished our drinks, we walked – well, I hobbled, really – to the many shops on Rue de Rivoli. I’m sure we only did a tiny fraction of this famous shopping street, but some treasures were found. I finally relented and bought flats from Zara, after a few days of varying feet pains; really anywhere from slight discomfort to a deranged monkey stabbing my toes. It’s the first time I’ve bought anything from a Zara since Spain, and sadly it was men’s shoes, because they didn’t have my giant ogre foot size in the women’s section. Thankfully, they look more unisex and actually look pretty hip (or so I tell myself). So, after relieving my Clarks (which I still love and will do to the end of its life), I happily sauntered to the rest of the shops, until it was time for us to grab dinner.

Dinner was at a lovely brasserie called Aux Trois Maillets, which had open air seating in the middle of this pedestrian street in Les Halles. Like most restaurants, they had a prix fixe menu, and for about 13€ you have an option of appetizer + entrée or entrée + dessert. I got the confit de canard (sautéed duck) and a chocolate crepe. The duck was absolutely delicious; fall off the bone, fatty, salty dark meat. And then there’s the crispy fatty skin, of course. Why don’t I have more duck more often? I live in Minnesota for god’s sake; we have hunting season! The crepe was just OK, but it definitely left me wanting more.

With a belly full of goodness, we set out to meet Danny’s friend, and our hostess, Ida. We walked past a couple of shops and restaurants and arrived at an open space where we found guys…practicing roller derby? And a few more steps down were a group of girls and guys doing a dance routine in roller blades or skates. We were witnessing a Wednesday kind of activity done by Parisians; it’s like running into a group biking or running session by Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis. After Ida wrapped up, we met another one of Danny’s friends, and we headed over to the Pigalle neighborhood to see the Moulin Rouge. Funny moment happened on the way, though; so we were walking down Rue de Rivoli to our metro station, then out of nowhere BOOM. There was the Eiffel Tower from afar, lit up beautifully. Margaret and I literally stopped in our tracks. Meanwhile, the locals and Danny kept walking and talking, oblivious to these two yahoo American tourists taking pictures of this thing they’ve seen so many times.

Really crappy shot of the Eiffel Tower at night

It was fascinating how much the Moulin Rouge contrasted against the other clubs and restaurants near it. There were hordes of people crowding around the famous cabaret, even buses (seriously, there was a bus) of Asian tourists clawing for pictures of that recognizable windmill. After a snapshot or two, we were done with all that, and started walking towards a bar for some drinks. Now, I may not remember 100% of what happened in that bar because we were seriously sleep-deprived at this point – we were definitely paying for staying out the night before – but I do remember thinking “this feels so ‘Friends.’” Or “Amis” I guess. It was nice observing these tables of friends, chatting over glasses of wine, laughing over who-knows-what, nodding along to the soft music. I also remember that the house wine was very good, and that a man should be pouring it at all times. It was a warm, fuzzy, local feeling. That’s probably also just the wine talking, too.

12:10 AM Day Six – It’s time to go back to Ida’s apartment. Good night, house wine. Good night, Montmartre. Good night, turnstile jumpers. Good night, Paris.

Day Six: Postcard Paris

Pinch me, I’m in Paris. Even after a half day in Paris the day before, today was a showcase of Paris’s greatest hits. Danny was such an awesome tour guide, and I do feel like I was shielded from the oft-heard comment about the “snobby French.” Although, as my new friend Guena pointed out, most French people actually will talk to you in English, as long as you make the initial attempt to speak in French. Even using “je ne parle pas (Francais)” can go a long way in making that first interaction courteous. It’s when people barge in and start blabbering in English that most French get annoyed, which makes sense. I mean, how would we feel if someone comes up to our faces and begins blabbing in another language, expecting that we understand what they meant? It’s all about respect, people.

Anyway, that was a big tangent. We started off our packed day with a stop at the Place de la Concorde, which had a great view of the obelisk…and half the Eiffel Tower. It was very foggy, and for a moment I was scared that we weren’t going to get that gorgeous view of la Tour Eiffel. From there, we walked through the Jardin des Tuileries and ran into the Louvre. In the words of a 13-year-old girl, OMG. I could see how someone could come in, kill an old man and put him in a Vitruvian Man pose and disappear without anyone catching him; it would take forever to find him in this huge museum. (Da Vinci Code, anyone?) I’m glad we didn’t go in – that’s for an in-depth Paris tour – I would’ve walked for hours. We did get some lovely glamour shots from outside the museum, before proceeding to the streets of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, where a lot of lovely interior decorating shops were located, including a home decor store where I found the cutest reusable tote bag.

Tom Hanks went underneath through that pointy thing in the back. Yay!

Up until now, we’ve been lolling around for an hour or so now. However, that loll quickly turned into a sprint as we realized that it was nearing 1 PM. See, Danny planned to meet with a friend at the Eiffel Tower, but that thing was a freaking mirage. We would walk/run a couple of blocks and think we’re there. Psych! It’s still a ways away. I could always laugh about things like this after they happen, key word being after. To make things worse, it started to shower and we didn’t bring our umbrellas because the forecast said “zero” percent chance of rain. Kill the weatherman, seriously. As the shower turned into rain, we ran into the nearest café, as Danny continued his trek to find his friend. As we got settled into our table – it was lunchtime, anyway – Danny showed up with his friend, 30 minutes past their agreed upon time. It was fate; his friend was about to leave because we hadn’t showed up, but because it started raining, he decided to stay put. And then he sees his long-lost friend. Running towards him in the rain. And they shared a hug and laughed and cried. Ok, so I made a lot of that part up, but isn’t that reunion still the sweetest thing ever?!

A-dor-a-ble.

Following a lunch full of merry storytelling – and a weird meal of hotdog and fries for me (who the hell orders frankfurter and fries for lunch?) – we turned the corner and met up with the granddaddy of all Parisian attractions: la Tour Eiffel. Unlike the White House, Disneyland castle and the Buckingham Palace, this one did meet my expectations, and then some. It is a magnificent beast of steel and lights, yet for all its enormity, there’s still something very delicate and smooth about it that’s reserved for the slenderest of structures. It’s hard to describe, but one thing for sure is true: it took my breath away.

Prince, glancing up at Eiffel

Of course we took a lot of pictures of this glorious beauty, including a unique one that ended with me getting hit in the face. It was totally accidental, and I couldn’t stop laughing after it happened, but what an awesome life story. Picture in front of the Eiffel Tower = priceless. Getting accidentally kicked in the face by a friend in front of the Eiffel Tower = FREAKING EPIC.

After building some fun memories with Eiffel, we bid goodbye to her and headed on towards the other stars of the show: Arc de Triomphe and Champs-“please don’t make me pronounce this again”-Élysées. It was amusing watching the carousel of cars circling the Arc de Triomphe; how they get in and out of that roundabout I never did find out. We crossed through a tunnel and emerged underneath the Arc, where we got a great 360-degree view of the avenues that jut out from this massive monument, including the most famous of them all, the Champs- Élysées. After some much needed foot break, we started walking down the shopping haven of old rich, nouveau riche, and us. Thankfully, Champs- Élysées had some stores that I actually could go into without feeling like I need to scrub up first. ProMod is a fashionable apparel & accessories retailer – think French H&M – where I got an adorable handbag/body bag. I bought it half because it was cute, half because I wanted to be able to say “I bought something from Champs- Élysées; look how en vogue I am. Now, kiss my ring.” Yes, in that sentence I was both fashionable AND the Pope.

Arc de Triomphe

Shot taken as we precariously stood in the middle of the Champs-Elysees

We walked one side of the grand boulevard, got some croissants from Paul, and then walked the other side of the street. Frankly, I liked the side with the ProMod and McDonald’s better. Had Ladurée been opened on the other side, it would’ve tipped my hat differently. Also, why is there a line of people waiting to get into the Louis Vuitton?

Tired from a full, amazing day of sight-seeing, we headed back to Saint-Michel to have dinner before meeting Ida and Guena. Because the heavens decided to open up again, we had to run into the first restaurant we saw, and that’s where we had dinner. The place was quaint, and the server was such a charmer, but the steak frites that I had were just OK. I was starting to get concerned; I wasn’t having mind-blowing food in Paris like everyone said I would. So, I made a mental note to actually search the internets for where to eat for our last meal tomorrow.

Like the night before, we did as the locals do; going to a bar and chatting about life. We went to a place called “The Gentleman” and had some pretty cheap (and good) beer – change the sport on TV to NFL and we could’ve been in any sports bar in Minneapolis. And, maybe nix the DJ in the corner, take out the smoke machine, and have people speak English. Ok, maybe not a sports bar in Minneapolis. And this city is so unlike any other.

Day Seven: Sacre Coeur, and almost home

We wanted to see the most of Paris from great heights, so we headed to Sacre Coeur on our last day. Now, I knew we were going up a long flight of stairs when we get to the base of the basilica, but I didn’t expect the long walk up from the metro station. There were 142 circular steps (we counted on the way back) to the metro exit – and no escalator – and it was kind of funny seeing all these people dropping like flies as we come around and corner to discover another set of steps. Thankfully, we made it all the way through to the bottom of the basilica, only to be faced with another gargantuan climb. It felt really good making it all the way up, though, because the view of the city from up here is unmatched. And, it was the perfect day to be up here, with the sun beaming brightly down on the City of Lights.

Ah, Paris.

Sacre Coeur's newest fans

There was also a lively farmer’s market around the basilica, selling delectable foodstuff like sausages, different cheeses (of course), spices, mustards, and more. What a wonderful idea to buy some food, some vin, and then sit down on the steps of Sacre Coeur for a gorgeous picnic. We had plans for lunch though, since I actually used Trip Advisor to find a crepe place nearby that I was excited to try. So, maybe next time. The promise of a tasty lunch didn’t stop us, however, from getting lured into a stall with some delicious looking pastries. We got a pastry that tasted like donut with some custard piped in the middle. Yummy.

Mmmm, not donuts that taste like donuts

Then, a few stalls later, I witnessed what was like a magic show: the vendor would pull this half wheel of cheese that’s been sitting under a heat lamp, slice a baguette in half, then cut some of the melting cheese and spread it into the baguette. It was spellbinding, and I knew I just had to have it. Danny and I split a baguette with cheese and prosciutto, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited watching my food getting prepared, as was evident by the ten or so pictures I took of the process. When I finally tasted the raclette (as I later found out it’s called), it was a revelation. This was the most amazing sandwich I’ve ever put in my mouth. It was cheesy, and creamy, and rich, and unctuous from the prosciutto, and salty, and a little tart from the pickle, and crunchy, and this is the longest run-on sentence but I don’t care because this raclette is the best thing since bread and cheese. It was a beautiful thing to hold in my hand as I bid goodbye to the wonderful views of Paris and headed down to Rue de Trois Freres for some crepes.

Melty cheese. Drooooool.

We were the first people in Creperie Broceliande, which opened at noon. Soon enough, though, the restaurant was packed, and it was easy to see why. This restaurant specialized in Crêpes Bretonnes, which are crispier and awesomer than any crepe I’ve ever had. I had the Crepes Parisienne, which had cheese, ham, and mushrooms. Jesus H. Christ, there was a party in my mouth, and y’all are invited. Then, for dessert I had the subtly sweet salted caramel. Wonderful. This was turning out to be the best food day in our entire trip so far. And, of course, it had to start in Paris.

Seriously, check this place out when you're in Paris

Sadly, we had a 4 PM train ride back to London, and by 6 PM local time, we were back catching to catching a bus on the left side of the road again. We grabbed dinner at the Pride of Paddington, which was the restaurant where we saw the boxer-clad guy dancing his heart away from two nights ago. We were greeted by this cute Australian server, and had really good English pub fare one last time. I did have a bacon cheeseburger, but who said hamburgers are an American thing? Plus, the burger was pretty bomb.

After taking the Heathrow Connect to the airport, we caught a free bus ride to our hotel. And for the last time, because we had all our bags with us, we had to do our signature move: get lost finding the hotel entrance, dragging all our stuff a couple hundred yards to the lobby, only to find out it was the wrong Holiday Inn. But of course! It wouldn’t be complete if we didn’t get misdirected one last time. This trip had been full of funny memories like that; new nicknames had been assigned (I’m Mariel “No Change” Lisud now, since I was always a couple cents short), new mantras had been established (“We stop when we die”), new phrases had been spoken (“OMG, it’s so cute I just have to beat it with a tire iron”).

That’s the best thing about taking a trip with friends. It’s not the sights you see, or the food you eat, or the stuff you buy. It’s gasping with your friend when you two see the Eiffel Tower for the first time. It’s splitting a raclette or a donut with your friends and watching each other’s eyes grow big as you both take a bite of all that awesomeness. It’s being relentlessly teased by your friends as you beg them for change to buy that purse. And, yes, it’s getting kicked in the face.

The Diversity Tour 2012: Margaret, Danny, and Mariel

My first time in London and Paris would not have been as delicious, as hilarious, and as memorable if it weren’t for my friends. And life wouldn’t be as full if I didn’t take chances like this. I look forward to the many travel adventures I see in my near future, and I can’t wait to get my passport bent and tattered as it fills up with stamps from all over the world.

Running Around Reykjavik, London, Paris: The Travel Journal, Part I

2012-10-21T18:33:00.002-07:00

It all started with a casual suggestion. You know when you’re having a lovely time with friends? You talk about big activities to do together, but most of the time these grand ideas fall by the wayside, until a few months later when you’re having dinner with them and someone mentions “Hey, whatever happened to our plan to do so-and-so?” Well, earlier this year I had one of those conversations with some friends after a great weekend trip to Chicago. “You know what? We should really go overseas together.” Can it really happen? Turns out it can.

There was a sale on Icelandair a few months ago, with flights from MSP to various European cities ranging from $600 -$900, round trip. I can’t remember exactly where I was when I decided to take the deal; I can, however, remember the adrenaline pumping as I clicked “confirm” on the purchase page and booked the trip for October 2012. Then, I texted my two friends, Danny and Margaret, my itinerary so we can all be on the same flight together. This was around May, so there was a bit of waiting for the actual trip. While it would’ve been easy to over-plan the trip – we did have a few months to do it – the three of us decided we weren’t going to hash out over every detail, because that’s not the type of vacation we wanted. True, we were going to pack two cities in seven days, but we also knew that living by the clock on a vacation would induce more stress than necessary. In hindsight, we could’ve benefited from being more mindful of our schedule (more on that later), but I’m glad that we didn’t bog down our itineraries with minutiae.

After a few months of calm, my excitement for the trip started to pick up a few weeks before the trip. I spent random nights sifting through travel blogs, looking for money-saving tidbits on transportation, admission tickets, etc. Travelzoo was a godsend, and government tourist sites are more useful than you think. And a week before the trip, I started packing. As anyone who’s packed for international travel knows, there are tough decisions you have to make. I was faced with the absurd dilemma of whether or not I should bring my sneakers. On the one hand, I could be completely comfortable walking around in my sneakers, because I knew there would be a ton of walking in London/Paris. On the other hand, it would mean I’d be in my sneakers ALL. THE TIME. In London and Paris. In the end, I thought I was making the right fashion decision, and nixed the sneakers. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Lesson learned: bring the damn sneakers. Or at least really comfortable, well-breathing shoes. More on that later.

Finally, after weeks of waiting, planning, and fidgeting, the day finally came. Friday, October 5^th. With my checked luggage and two other bags on hand, I made my way to MSP Terminal 2, where I met up with my friends, had dinner at the only restaurant in the terminal (the only reason I don’t like flying out of T2), and at 7 PM flew a five and half hour flight to Reykjavik. Let the fun begin.

Day one: Reykjavik and London

Who knew Iceland was only 5+ hours away from Minneapolis? At this rate, you can probably be a weekender in Reykjavik…that is, if you wanted to spend your weekends in Reykjavik. We arrived in Keflavik airport before the sun rose, around 6 AM. The airport is beautiful; hardwood floors throughout, nice departure lounge, etc. We took the Flybus from the airport to downtown Reykjavik, and watched as the sun rose on the volcanic island. When we arrived at the city, we noticed that it was…quiet. We walked around for a mile or so, past nice houses and SUVs outfitted with off-roading tires, to a serene lake in the middle of the city. From there you can see the rows of houses and buildings dotting the city, but again not a single soul (save for one random biker). Finally, after grabbing a quick croissant and stumbling into an illy store, we found out from the store employee that people here don’t really come out until 10:30, 11 AM on the weekends. People don’t go out until after midnight to party, which explains why they wouldn’t want to wake up until after noon. To which my friend pointed out, this city was perfect for me. Finally, a place that doesn’t judge me for my offensively late sleeping habits.

Indeed, people started to come out around 10:30 AM, just as we were making our way to the Iceland Opera House. It is a gorgeous architecture of glass and steel, with the inside as beautiful as its “honeycomb”-like exterior. Afterwards, we went to the tallest building in the city, which was a Lutheran church with an observation tower. From there, we had a 360-degree view of the city, which was breathtaking. The air was so fresh, the Atlantic Ocean so incredibly blue, and the city looked so quaint from hundreds of feet up, that it truly felt like looking at a postcard. There wasn’t a single bad shot that I could take on my camera from that viewpoint. It was the right way to end our short walking tour of the city. A city that struck me as a wee bit strange – it felt like everyone operated on a synchronized clock – yet mesmerizing.

View of Reykjavik from the Observation Tower

We arrived in London at night. After taking the Heathrow Connect (way cheaper than the Heathrow Express, and only 10 minutes longer) to Paddington Station, we had our first of many direction, um, challenges. Imagine, three friends lugging all their rolling bags down a cobbled alleyway, making the most ungodly noises through St. Mary’s Hospital (Fun fact #1: where Princes William and Harry were born), and finally coming out into a main street. Then, walking a few blocks down to see the main entrance of Paddington Station, and quickly realizing that had we just turned right when we got out the train, our walk would’ve been half the time and the pain. In the words of Homer Simpson: D’oh! But, we were too exhausted to care, so we just made our way to our apartment hotel on Gloucester Terrace, before going out for some food. Paddington is not a hotbed of London nightlife, so most restaurants were closed by midnight. We were limited to getting falafel and kebab from a tiny shop, which turned out to be very good. New way to eat chips (i.e. fries): vinegar, salt, and a garlic mayo so pungent I could still smell it in my breath, two weeks later. Right.

After a long 24 hours of traveling, walking around a cold and quiet city, and getting lost for the first time of many, we were pooped. Time to get some rest for our first full day in London.

Day Two: City of Westminster and Pub Crawl London

Buffer your time. I could not emphasize enough how important this travel tip is, especially if you’re traveling without the comforts of a data phone and google maps. Seriously, how did I function before the internet? While we had a pretty loose agenda for the week, Sunday was one of the few days we did have to be somewhere on time, as we wanted to do an 11 AM free walking tour. Alas, we did not anticipate how complicated it would be to get a travelcard, and by the time we were done, we knew we wouldn’t make the first tour. So, we decided to loll around Oxford Street until the 1 PM tour. Oxford Street reminded me a lot of Midtown Manhattan, particularly 5^th Avenue, with your usual mid- to high-end stores. You also have brands we don’t see often (or at all) in the States, like Top Shop, Uniqlo, and Primark. Definitely a shopping haven, until you realize that the scarf for £15 is really more like $25. For that, I’m going to save my pounds and spend it on other stuff I can’t get in the US. Like an absolutely decadent Ben’s Cookie (a must; crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside. Drool). Or Strongbow on tap. Yup. It’s all about priorities.

The amazing Ben's Cookies on Oxford Street

Why do a tour bus, when you can ride on double-decker buses any time?

By 1 PM, we were running – yet again – to catch the free walking tour, which started by the Wellington Arch. There were a lot of people attending the tour from all over the world, including the two loveliest guys from LA, Mick and Tom. There was also an Irish guy, but I didn’t get his number. Damn. We even got into a big group hug with a group of university students who were on a scavenger hunt of some sort (we were: “Do a group hug with strangers”). The walking tour was led by Jo, a peppy British gal who took us mostly through royal landmarks in the City of Westminster. As it turns out, what is commonly thought of as “London” is all part of Greater London, and the City of London is the most ancient borough where the Tower of London is located. There’s actually no physical place called “London.” Mind blown.

We started our walk from the edge of Hyde Park, through Constitution Road, and stopped in front of the Buckingham Palace. At this point, I thought I would be hyperventilating because, you know, it’s the freaking Palace. But I wasn’t as amazed as I thought I would be. It’s gorgeous and all, and the Victoria monument is beautiful, but much like the White House or the Disneyland castle, Buckingham just didn’t match what I’ve worked up in my mind. I guess I need to go inside to get the full effect, and apparently it isn’t that hard to do so by breaking in. Fun fact #2.

Queen Victoria Memorial

Buckingham Palace

We also saw Clarence House and St. James’s Palace, both official royal residences. None of the royals were there, because their official flags weren’t hanging over the palaces. It was very busy in Trafalgar Square, and we saw some amusing goings-on as we took a break above the Churchill War Rooms. The Horse Guards Parade was a real treat, since it’s the only Olympic venue (beach volleyball!) that’s in a touristy part of London. After a few more yards of walking, we run into the Palace of Westminster, AKA Parliament, with the Elizabeth Tower/Big Ben hanging out on top ever so coolly. This one knocked me out. It was such a massive building – building seems an inadequate term – with its huge spires, tall towers, great sculptures, and sheer majesty. How I wish I could’ve seen it aglow at night. Definitely a to-do on my next trip to London. Across the street was an equally amazing structure, the Westminster Abbey. Of course, I was giddy as a high school girl because this was IT, you know? Where Queen Elizabeth II was crowned, where Isaac Newton is buried, and where William and Kate were married. How could I not be spazzing out? Freak out moment, checked.

Elizabeth Tower/Big Ben

Westminster Abbey: Spazz out, check.

After the walking tour, we joined a few fellow tourists at Ye Olde Monk Exchange for some classic pub grub. I had some bangers and mash (“Would you like some bangers in the mouth? Oh I forgot here in the States you call it a sausage in the mouth."), which were quite delicious swimming in a broth of brown gravy. Pair that with Strongbow, all for £9, and we were happily sated. Because we had such a good time at the walking tour, we decided to go for the company’s pub crawl, which got us into four pubs and one club (plus drink specials) for only £12. Paid tours are everywhere in London, but this turned out to be a really great deal for us. Once again we ended up running to the first pub because I thought we had “enough time.” SMH. Thankfully, Brits are really helpful…at least the ones I asked for directions as my friends were looking at the map. That couple seriously saved our asses; because of them we made it to the first pub, Belushi’s, with minutes to spare. With a free shot and a sigh of relief, we made our way to the next pub, where a football game was winding down. It was exhilarating witnessing an actual footy game with true fans (I think Barcelona was playing); people screaming at the TV, yelling obscenities at each other, waving flags, the whole gig. It did quiet down enough for us to mingle and chat with our fellow pub crawlers. We met a lot of engaging individuals from all over the world, including a couple of folks from Israel who had three-week vacations. Turns out it was the triple holiday bonanza of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot; one of our new Israeli friends was just on a three-week long trek across Nepal. From the sports pub we went to the Ruby Blue Bar in Leicester Square, and after that to a club called Zoo. It was awesome seeing a club so packed on a Sunday night. I don’t know if they were mostly tourists, or locals who knew how to party hard before a workday. If it’s the latter, I need to know their secret. The music was hopping, playing mostly Top 40 UK hits. I had such a blast hanging out and dancing with my friends, old and new, and as we made our way back to the hotel riding one of London’s many night buses (no, not Knight Bus), I couldn’t help but smile. I was slowly falling in love with the city.

Snakebite: Half cider, half beer, with grenadine. Works for me!

Day Three: City of London, Knightsbridge, and Soho

It was a foggy day in Londontown. Unlike the song, though, I didn’t let it get me down. We were going to the Tower of London, come hell or high water…or slight dampness. But first, we stopped by our neighborhood breakfast joint, Raffles, for some traditional English breakfast. Man, best food discovery of my life. Baked beans on top of toast? Magical. Yes, like magic beans.

Beans on toast: Groundbreaking, earth-shattering, amazing

The Tower of London is in the ancient City of London, and was located next to the Thames River. It was teeming with history, riddled with horror stories, and bedecked with décor clearly straight out of IKEA’s 1106 Fall Catalog. The Crown Jewels are housed here as well, and while we couldn’t take pictures of these ridiculously opulent regalia, it was a treat just to see them, including the crown that Elizabeth II wore during her coronation. We also got to see the infamous Bloody Tower, the resident ravens of the Tower, as well as a perfect view of the Tower Bridge (which is often mistaken for London Bridge). I think history/military/royalty buffs would drool all over this place, and for me it was nice taking a few hours stepping back in time.

Tower Bridge, NOT London Bridge

After hours of walking, we were famished, and went to Brick Lane for some Indian/Bangladeshi food. Brick Lane is famous for its many curry houses, and the one we went to, Masala, was a really good find. I ordered the butter chicken, and it was by far the best rendition of the dish. It was sweet and creamy and buttery and just perfect. God, I want it in my mouth right now. I was seriously licking it off my fingers long after the garlic naan was gone.

After dinner, we went to the Knightsbridge area and Harrods. We only made it to three floors, but in a fraction of this department store I saw why Harrods is the mecca of shopping. That is, if you had about £2400 to spare for a scarf. Thankfully, they had a souvenir shop, although how odd is it that a department store sells its owned brand products? A good point made by my friend; you’d never see Macy’s selling Macy’s-branded magnets.

Harrods' chocolate section. 'Nuff said.

With our souvenirs in hand, we walked to the Piccadilly Circus area then the Soho neighborhood to go to our first (and my favorite) gay bar, Escape. While it was still pretty quiet when we got there, we got the party started with £1 shots. How awesome is that? It continues to prove my theory that gay bars have the best drink deals anywhere, either by having cheap drinks, or regular-priced ones that are really strong. That, plus music that I could scream/sing and dance to – yes, including Gangnam Style. Afterwards, we went to another bar called, simply enough, G-A-Y. Also a fab venue with good drink deals (£1.70 for Magners, what?!), fun music, and the friendliest bathroom attendant ever. After hours of shaking what our mothers gave us, we made a quick stop to Wok to Walk, which was a fast food stir-fry joint. It was the perfect after-drinks meal. With another successful night under our belts, we walked to the same bus stop by Piccadilly Circus, and caught a double-decker back to the hotel.

Day Four: Camden Market, London Eye, Soho once more

On our last full day in London, we started off at Camden Market for more shopping. I positively LOVED this neighborhood. It’s a colorful, expansive flea market with goods ranging from food to art to sculptures to accessories and more. I had to walk straight past some stalls just to keep myself from buying more stuff. Now this was the real shopper’s mecca. I got a couple of art pieces, as well as some gifts for my family, before finally saying goodbye to the lovely Camden Lock.

Best shopping experience ever.

Our next stop was the London Eye, on the other side of the Thames. Before going up this giant wheel, we got a special gift as the sun broke out over the gorgeous Palace of Westminster (Parliament). Picture time! Stepping into the London Eye capsule, we were treated to the most breathtaking views of Greater London. As I snapped photo after photo of the great city below me, I couldn’t help but make mental notes of all the other places I want to visit on my next trip to London. Because I will definitely be coming back to London, the most diverse city I’ve ever been to in my life. Diverse in its people, its languages, its foods, its cultures, its neighborhoods…it’s the whole world in 607 square miles.

Palace of Westminster, from the London Eye

The London Eye

After stepping off the London Eye, we walked on Westminster Bridge back to the other side of the Thames. We had dinner at Chinatown in a Malaysian restaurant called Rasa Sayang. The service was ridiculously fast, and the food was even better. The roti canai was buttery goodness, and the nasi goreng istimewa was plain delicious. Afterwards, we went back to the same bars from the night before, to meet some of Danny’s friends. It was so much fun dancing the night away, but eventually we had to head back to the hotel to get ready for a 7 AM train ride to Paris. But not before we got some chips from the same kebab place we ate at on our first night. Talk about a nice, full circle. We did witness a bit of action, as one of the kebab employees got into a row with a jerk who pushed me aside and started ordering food. There were a lot of f-bombs dropped, some knife wielding, but we still got our chips. As if that wasn’t enough, on the other side of the street was a guy down to his skivvies dancing inside a bar. The bar was already closed, so I don’t know if the guy thought no one could see him, but we definitely could. What a way to end our London leg of the trip.

Funnily enough, the reasons I wanted to go to London in the first place aren’t the same reasons I would want to go back there now. I thought going to London meant hearing the much-adored British accent, especially the Daniel Craig variety. Instead, I found myself exposed to more languages with every person I passed by, which was beautiful. I thought London was all fish and chips and bangers and mash. It was that, but it was also beans and toast, and great Asian food, and amazing curry. I thought my favorite part of London would be the palaces and bridges. But it was the markets and the pubs where I had the most memorable experiences. I wasn’t expecting to be so impressed by London’s organized public transportation, or its clean streets, or its friendly locals, but I was. I love London, for all the reasons above, and for more I have yet to discover. Or, as the Brits would say, I’m rather chuffed about London.

Oh London.

You Can Always Go Down-ton.

2012-03-22T20:51:00.001-07:00

I'm halfway through The World of Downton Abbey, written by Jessica Fellowes; it's a companion book to the wildly successful show -- and my true new obsession -- Downton Abbey. I don't think I've shown this level of fervor for anything since I cried myself to sleep because I couldn't watch Westlife on TV, back in 1999. Granted, nowadays I won't cry if I don't get to see DA, but that's probably because I watch a DA-related clip almost every night since I saw the Christmas episode. The people at Netflix must be wondering who this crazy woman is who keeps watching episodes of Downton Abbey over and over again; I am seriously paying $8 a month to stream episodes of a season that I have a DVD copy of.

Why am I so obsessed with this show? Why do I feel like I need a support group to help me from DA withdrawals until the next season which doesn't air in the US until January 2013 (hold me)? I guess the crazy's gone down a little bit; after you've turned your ringtone into the show's theme song and bought the DVDs and book, I don't know how further I can go...oh wait, never mind, here's a few ideas. I could probably hawk this to my friends and family that I've turned on to this show. Seriously, when I got my mom addicted to this show, I knew this show was IT.

I've read several articles that offer several explanations why people are so in love with this show (my favorite one here); I agree with a lot of those points, but the ones that stick out to me the most are:

1) Matthew + Mary - I cannot tell you how invested I can get in fictional characters, and the actors who play their parts. That's usually how I develop my intense Hollywood crushes...and I'm kinda having a mad girl-crush on Michelle Dockery right now, who plays the vulnerable yet headstrong Lady Mary. I am so mesmerized with how she can tell a story with the slightest lift of an eyebrow or crush of her forehead. As the Comic Relief send-up of DA pointed out, a lot of the show's narrative is told through people's non-verbal communication, and no one does this better than Lady Mary. I am also beyond tickled to see Dan Steven's face every chance I can get. His character - Matthew Crawley (who I would like to marry now that we know he can live a "happy, married life") - is a strong character to partner with Lady Mary. I've never been more satisfied with a "will they, won't they" story arc than that of Matthew and Mary's; it's frustrating, it's conflicted, it's nuanced, it's heartrending, it's romantic, it's exciting, it's true.

2) Strong, equivalent cast of characters - Yes, there are a LOT of characters in this show. But I'm so amazed at how well the show develops each and every one of them. In my mind, the first two series focused more on M&M (or maybe that's because I have the youtube videos of Matthew and Mary on constant replay every day). After all, a major story line of the first season was trying to break the binds of the wretchedly unfair entail (whatever the hell that was) for Mary. But, I am also incredibly fascinated/fixated on the lives of the Grantham family and the servants downstairs. True, there were a couple times in season 2 when some characters pursued rather incredulous plots (seriously, Jane?). But, you still let them get away with it because you want to see them through whatever situation, whether it be ridiculous -- e.g. Edith and farmer -- or tragic, like Thomas and Daisy.

3) The most gorgeous set on earth, Highclere Castle -- AKA Downton Abbey. I am seriously considering saving up to go to England and visit this place. This place is, rightfully, another main character in the show. It is so grand, that I couldn't imagine anyone being comfortable calling it home. But the Crawley family makes it feel that way, as they invite you into their lives every Sunday night (or over a DA marathon, which I've done many a times). I love the grand hall in particular because so many pivotal moments in the show happen in that place (well that, and the library). How many times have I watched those Home and Gardens feature on this castle and the Carnarvons? Too many to mention.

4) Lady Violet - I mean, seriously, the woman's a talking catchphrase. But, in all seriousness, Lady Violet's strong and quiet transformation from the 1st to the 2nd season was so refreshing and impressive for its subtlety. I love how, underneath all that old-world conformity she espouses, Cousin V's actually a bit of a progressive.

5) The relationship between up/downstairs - I'm not a period drama watcher. I'm sure I'll be turned on to watch some other BBC/Masterpiece Classic shows now that I am a DA fan. But, what I think makes this show unique (or, again, maybe I just haven't seen enough classics), is the relationship between the Crawley family members and their servants. The family is a friendly employer, who treats their employees well and genuinely cares for their welfare (you're welcome, Mrs. Patmore). It's interesting, because I sometimes think of our family and our housekeepers/helpers in the Philippines when I think of this relationship. Obviously, we're nowhere near the Crawley family's wealth and status (actually, that's just to throw you off the scent of my big pile of money), but we had a couple of helpers in the house. At our apartment in Manila we had our housekeeper/the awesomest person ever who took care of us kids until we left for the States. We always thought we could be friends with our helpers, and we did like to gossip with some of the younger ladies while watching an episode of the latest Tagalog soap opera in the helpers' quarters. And whenever I see Lady Mary and Anna chatting, or Mr. Bates engaging in a serious conversation with Lord Grantham, I can't help but refer back to those memories once in a while.

6) Everything - I mean, everything.

I cannot wait for the next season of Downton Abbey to start airing on PBS; until then, I'm going to soothe my hunger pains with episode reruns and the blissful mantra of "8 more months, 8 more month." After all, I can't act defeatist...that's very middle class.

New York (Food) State of Mind

2011-11-02T21:37:00.000-07:00

I come for the touristy shtick. I stay for the food.

I only had three full days in New York this time. The last time I was there, I got food poisoning after mixing cheese ramen and alcohol. I know, that really was my fault right there. So, NYC Goal #1: Don't get all pukey and shit (like, literally). I know, t.m.i right?

NYC Goal #2: Don't go bat-shit crazy and try all the things I wanted and didn't get to try last time, because that would've just ended up frustrating me. New York isn't Hogsmeade; I could come back anytime I want to. Hell, I could live there if I wanted to. And Hogsmeade is real the same way Bruce Jenner's face is real. So the Kardashian references begin.

Day 1:
Since the lodging was in Harlem, hell yeah I was going to get my soul food on! Oops, sorry Jesus, I meant heck yes. I heard that Amy Ruth's had some mean fried chicken and waffles. Laaaaaawd Jesus, it was good!

I have a feeling I will get smitten down by lightning pretty soon.

Crispy chicken and hot waffles at 9 AM? Amen.

Thankfully, all that meal of protein, carbs, sugar and spice was walked off - thoroughly and briskly - with a three-hour visit to the Met Museum. It's probably one of the best museums I've ever been to, and a wonderful refuge from the howling weather outside. One could easily spend days exploring this place....

Yep, it's raining alright.

Oh how true.

Dude who cut his ear off...and his paintings.

Of course, this moi didn't stay there for days, because this moi was hungry for some good chow. But since it was pouring rain, just ran into the nearest restaurant in sight, which ended up being a good ol' Greek-ran diner. That's, like, every diner I've ever seen featured on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. I got the bison burger that was pretty much still pulsing. It was that raw. I said medium rare, but hey, it was still good, albeit a tad iron-y.

I'm not even going to talk about the Guggenheim, except to say: WHAT A FREAKING BORE. Sorry. You know the kind of modern art that's so abstract and conceptual that you have to listen to the museum audio guide to understand it? And then, when they explain it, in that whispery, frail, I-only-listen-to-NPR-and-consider-a-canvas-with-a-stick-figure-drawing-sublime-art voice, you just wanna punch them (don't get me wrong, I love NPR). Funnily enough, one of the pieces was of a blank canvas with a rock piercing through it. Like, I can do that on a Tuesday.

That is all.

It's a good thing I went to F.A.O Schwartz afterwards and got some of the happiness sucked out by the Guggenheim back. I even got to play on the Big Piano.

Meet F.A.O door guy. He's my new friend.

Doing "Chopsticks" like Tom Hanks in Big. Like a boss.

More happiness ensues while watching "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying," that night. Can I just say, I wanted to see this musical for the sole purpose of seeing Daniel Radcliffe/Harry Potter (he can run from it, but he can't hide). I ended up liking it for so many more reasons than him. Namely, John Laroquette.

That's my best shot of Danny boy from the stage door. He's so short and pale.

John Laroquette! Yes, that evil guy from Richie Rich.

After Nathan's for dinner, we end an incredibly fulfilling and exhausting Friday.

Can't go wrong with Nathan's chili dog. Om nom freaking nom.

Day 2:

After the feet-blistering first day, Saturday was a little bit more chill, and more about food than anything else. It started off with one of the best marriage of food on earth: croissant and hot dog. Seriously, Patisserie des Ambassades? You're a freaking genius. The croissant was buttery, the hotdog wasn't salty at all (kinda like Nathan's), then you get the contrast in textures. OK, I have to stop writing about this, it's making me nauseously hungry.

Fat and butter. Yum.

Then, some strolling around lower Manhattan, witnessing first hand the second week of Occupy Wall Street near WTC. Even then, during its nascent stage, OWS definitely felt different from witnessing other protests.

The new World Trade Center

The OWS marchers.

I guess what separates the tourists from the locals is how well one group navigates the changing subway routes due to construction. Sometimes, you just gotta look up from your google maps and read the signs. Which is how I ended up riding up to midtown and stopping at Madison Square Park. Which is also where the famous Shake Shack's original, um, Shack is located. So I lined up and waited. And waited. And waited. And finally got the ultimate, gut-busting, cheesy behemoth of guilt: a Shake Stack, which is a fresh, molten hot cheeseburger and a portobello mushroom stuffed with cheese, inside a bun. Dare I say, it was as good, if not better than, In N Out. Please don't hurt me.

Yup, that's the line for burgers and shakes. And we wonder why Americans are such a bunch of fatties.

Thankfully there was a great bluegrass concert going on nearby.

My reward: Shake Stack and Red Velvet Custard

After this delicious lunch, I took the stairs all the way up to Empire State Building's observatory. And Kim K. and Kris Humphries' marriage was for real. ESB was another tourist trap that was actually very fun. You kinda had to shove your way through the throng of people, but I eventually got some premium views of a beautiful, even if a little foggy, Manhattan. You can really feel the density of the city from this vantage point, of eight million people living on top of each other, breathing each other's air, sharing each other's life stories.

East Side

Once again, the new WTC

And, wouldn't you know it, it's time for more food. This time, the long wait is for Ippudo, which has some of the best ramen I have ever had. I mean, when you have a bunch of Asians waiting hours to get a seat, you know it's gotta be good. Coz, y'know, we know good food. And this was no exception. I've been lazy writing Yelp reviews for this trip, but I screamed my approval for this one.

Shiromaru Hakata Classic with extra braised pork belly. PURE ECSTASY.

After a bit of strolling around Midtown, took a little break and then went out again later that night. The intention was to go dancing, but when I saw Pop Burger at the Meatpacking District, I had to go in for some more food. Because, what the hell, we're here right? Who cares if it's 2 AM and I just had four meals before this?

Fries were amazing, burger was delicious; Onion rings, meh not so much.

So, instead of shedding some calories on the floor, we ended up gobbling up more. That, and a lovely cocktail at a lovely hotel above Hiro (our original destination) closed this gut-busting day.

Day 3:

Finally, I could say I've been to Brooklyn. Because I went to Brooklyn. Although only the very tip of it, because I spent most of the time...you guessed it, waiting in line for food. Seriously, the lengths I go for good chow. This time, it was for supposedly one of the best (and oldest) pizza joints in Brooklyn, Grimaldi's. It's that type of restaurant that gets featured on every imaginable food/leisure magazine, is Zagat-rated, has a million reviews on Yelp, doesn't take credit cards, makes people who only want take-out wait in the same line as people who dine in. You get the picture. In hindsight, it's not the best pizza I've ever had, but that definitely didn't matter because we were famished by the time we sat down, so really you could've served us Domino's for all I care and we would've thought it was the best thing on God's green planet. It's definitely authentic, Brooklyn-style pizza, with a charred butt, a sprinkling of pepperoni, sausage and mushrooms (our toppings), and lots of attitude.

Mmmm, meatzzzzzaaaaa.

We then strolled around Dumbo, Brooklyn (too lazy to explain, just google it), and saw terrific views of lower Manhattan, before taking the water taxi back to Manhattan.

BOOOOO.

After a few more miles of aimless walking, we had dinner at the lovely East Village Venezuelan hotspot Caracas Arepa Bar. While the service was inconsistent, the food was consistently great. Their shredded beef arepa and black bean empanada were divine.

Shredded beef, black beans, cotija cheese. TD4.

Sunday was, indeed, a fun day. And, to wrap the whole thing up, I decided to stroll around that area shunned by locals and flocked by tourists, Times Square. But, while I was amazed by how bright and ostentatious this area was, I was more impressed by how many bars in the Upper West Side were filled with people -- I'm assuming working people from the neighborhood -- at 1 AM. On a Sunday/Monday. While Times Square may give NYC that caffeinated, "city never sleeps" gloss, it's these neighborhood bars that really tell the story.

Last Day:

While I never liked last days on vacations, thankfully, there was time to kill before this flight back home. As a last hurrah, strolled Central Park and had delicious crepes afterwards at Crepes on Columbus. Seriously, can this sound any more like Enchanted's version of New York City?

Breakfast crepe of goat cheese, spinach, and bacon. Heavenly sunshine.

As that narrator on Enchanted would end, "...and they lived happily ever after." And yummily, too.

Life moves to Music

2011-10-20T21:55:00.000-07:00

Last week, I discovered The Current through my Tune-in Radio app. I cannot believe I haven't discovered this app and, consequently, this amazing radio station sooner. Anyway, I tried to tune in to this station while I was writing some work e-mails, but soon enough I realize I couldn't listen to music while I'm doing "real" work, i.e. work that requires actual brain power, because it's so hard for me to hear music without really getting into it. It won't be too long that I'm listening to a song before I'm singing along with it, or at least bopping my head, tapping my feet, drumming my fingers. Which could look pretty odd to the random passer-by to my office cubicle. I don't necessarily have to understand all the lyrics (heck, took me about 5 listens before I realized what "Pumped Up Kicks" was all about. Yikes.); sometimes it's as simple as a rhythmic hook or a catchy melody and I'm lost in the song. Even right now, I'm writing this in stops and starts because One Republic's "Good Life" is playing, which is my newest (albeit not a new) album purchase. Gotta love Amazon's MP3 store. Boyz II Men Legacy album for $5. Um, yes please!

I hate silence. Which is weird that I like living alone. I always do have some type of sound going on at all times until I go to sleep, whether it be the TV blaring, the internet radio playing, or the podcasts streaming to help put me to sleep. Which I realize is pretty futile because I can't exactly not listen to the content, because they're pretty damn interesting. Take yesterday; it's 1 AM and I put on "Wait, wait don't tell me..." to help tire me out enough so I go to sleep. Before you know it, it's 2 AM and I'm laughing my ass off to Peter Sagal's joke about Herman Cain's 9-9-9 Plan (best line ever: "Cain's 9-9-9 plan is meant to...stop German tourists in their tracks." Genius). Result: I had a short sleep but a happy heart.

And there's no sound more beautiful and enlivening than music. I love how there's a song or musical piece for pretty much every single human experience, even for something as mundane as checking your credit report (and it's a pretty catchy tune, too!) I know there are even some songs that I play in my mind for the fantasy version of my life, like "Save the Best for Last," or "Party Rock Anthem," in which I am the champion of a post-apocalyptic dance-off. I'm not super pretentious about my music choices, and it kinda irks me how this is the one subject that normally level-headed, agreeable people can be super snarky about. I admit, I've done it myself once or twice... "Ew, you like the Backstreet Boys?" Um, yes, bitch, I do. Why can't we all just appreciate all types of melodies, harmonies -- or deconstructed, experimental versions of it -- rhythms, beats, chords, choruses, modulations, I'm-just-spitting-out-random-music-terms-now....and get along?

What I'm Thankful For...

2011-10-17T23:05:00.000-07:00

There are so many things that I could be sad about. The deepening chasm between Americans - socioeconomic, ideological, political, and otherwise. The lack of jobs for many recent (and not-so-recent) graduates -- this is my generation. The bullying epidemic. The inevitable chill of winter. The last season of "Chuck."

And I do lament those things. But, you know what I look for when I open up my news app in the morning (it's seriously the first, no, second thing I do when I wake up)? I look for the good, heartwarming news: the articles about Good Samaritans, reconciled individuals, reunited family members/friends, cute dogs with their own book (Boo!).

Seriously, how can you not love me?

That, or beautiful photos of my beautiful nephew doing beautiful things...or nothing at all.

Yaaaaaaaaawn.

So, instead of concentrating on the negative, let's live on the sunny side of the street, the greener patch of grass...let's wake up on the right side of the bed, shall we? Otherwise you'll end up with a back-ache and the dire need for an Icy Hot patch (which I actually had to use last week; needless to say, I felt like a grandmother). Besides Boo and my adorable nephew, this is a short list of the many joys that graced my life in the last few weeks:

1) Blogger - can I just say how awesome it is to have free blog-hosting sites? Just think, before blogs, I had to write my thoughts down on...(shudder)...paper! Just kidding, of course, but it is so easy to take techie tools like this for granted, when only a few years back the only way (and reason) I could share my written word was to get it published in our school newspaper back in the Philippines. To that end I'm also grateful for...

2) Nostalgia - recently a classmate from the Philippines visited me for a few weekends, and we got to reminiscing about the good old days. While it's good to keep moving forward (like a Toyota), it's also fun to reminisce. We talked about the petty fights (and boy, were they childish!), the overnight stay at our classroom to talk about the school year (soph year, '03), camping trips, etc.

3) Karaoke/sing-alongs - I love singing, even if I'm not a great singer. And what I love even more is singing with good friends. That's why I will always be down for karaoke, or an impromptu sing-along session around a piano. Seriously, hit me up anytime.

4) Replaceable hard drives - I was debating whether I should get a new computer and get a PC (because Macbooks are mad expensive yo) or just replace my old Mac with a new hard drive. I went for the latter and got an inexpensive 500 GB hard drive on Amazon; popped the old one right out and now my Mac's running smooth as silk.

5) Steve Jobs - for being so obsessed with making the best tech products for consumers. My Macbook may be 4 years old and hanging on by a thread, but it's still humming along just fine with its new HD. Now, Steve might not have wanted to hear that -- I'm guessing he wanted everyone to replace their laptops/iPhones/iPads/iPods/iSomethingorOther every time Apple releases a new version -- but hey, it's Apple's fault my laptop just won't quit!

6) Skype - 2-hour Skype session with my mom & dad? Priceless.

7) New York City - it's loud, it's crowded, it's expensive, it's dirty. It's a City. It's larger-than-life. It's vibrant. It's got history. It's got great food. It deserves its own well-composed essay.

8) Free shipping with minimum purchase - four cute tops, pants, and skirt for $70 AND free shipping? I'm shocked, JC Penney. Yes, I did say JC Penney.

9) Pippin - Ah, dogs. They're so simple, so needy, but so unconditionally loving. It was so fun taking care of this li'l beagle for a few days, and he got plenty of belly rubs and a healthy dose of HGTV and Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

10) My sister's sonogram - could this be any more exciting? I can't believe I'm going to be an aunt for the second time!!!! I'm just so thrilled for my sister, my brother-in-law, and our family. We're so blessed to have a fantastic support system, and I can't wait to come home for Thanksgiving to see my sister's baby bump! And, of course, plan a fabulous baby shower.

Ah! An alien!

My cup runneth over.

That's Week!

2011-09-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

This past week has just been such a blur and a blessing that it's really only till now that I've been able to stop and reflect what a fast-changing world I live in.

It hasn't always been this way though. The path towards my promotion at times felt glacial in its pace. I have questioned whether I would get it at all at some point. But when I finally got tapped to start interviewing for the promotion, I rediscovered the reasons that made me great at my job and the things I can still accomplish while I'm here. That entire process took a while, which is why when the real thing happened so quickly I almost felt gypped! All that prep boiling down to am hour's worth of interviews?!?! Eh, I guess that's how everything goes in life right? Whether it's for a performance for your job...or your life. Which brings us to last week. You know when you've had a good week through and through, because those weeks happen once in a millennium. Unless you're Kim Kardashian, in which case I love/hate how addicted I am to your family.

Anyway, guilty-pleasure-confession aside, the week started out with a whimper and ended with a bang. Much like Kim K.'s career. I think I just made an inappropriate reference somewhere there, but i don't care.

Monday was judgment day. It s really not fun going in for an oral exam of sorts, or getting scrutinized in general. But afterwards, there was such a sigh of relief that all I could do was smile the whole day. Then fell asleep of exhaustion and anticipation.

Tuesday: You know that pit in your stomach as you await for the exam results? You can't exactly concentrate on anything, and I am already something of a space cadet (wow, have not used that term since i was obsessing over Sweet Valley's Unicorn Club series). Thankfully my team had an outing to that great, freakishly huge annual event, the Minnesota State Fair. Really, what can be more distracting than molten cheese stuffed inside corn dog batter and deep fried. This fair was a cardio-clogging, cataclysmic cheese consumption-rama of sorts for me. Not only did I start off with cheese on a stick, I then proceeded to eat cheese curds (a classic), mac and cheese on a stick (what is it with fairs and impalement devices?!), deep fried cheesecake, and the most ridiculous thing I've ever eaten, a deep fried cheeseburger. That monster was SICK in both +/- manners. It was delicious and burger -y. And I could feel the slick of the oil slipping down my throat after every bite of that Lipitor-beggin' in a bun.

The infamous deep fried cheeseburger; trust me, you don't wanna see what's inside

Truly after a pig-out like that I would need some mad coffee fix to keep me going for the rest of the day...that, or the sweet news from your group manager that you got the promotion. That must be one of the all-time best ways to tell someone good news: do it at a state fair with happy people, happy food, happy rides, happy cows. Wait, those cows are from California. TV ad reference high five! I was so overly ecstatic that all I could do was smile all the way from the midway to my next food fix. I believe that was when we got the cheesecake, which was followed by a celebratory Guinness as my team was told of the news and we did an impromptu happy hour.

Yey Guinness!

Alas, a day like that would be so heart-filling already, but the sun still has to set. And I still had a Script concert and a fantastic reunion with my high school friend Jade to go to. We haven't seen each other in almost a decade, so to find out he was here, of all places, was just the most perfect thing ever. Taking him to the Script concert was awesome because the Script put on an A-freaking-mazing show that night, even above and beyond their concert last year at the State. And thus, a new Script fan is born. And two good friends are reunited over great live music and delicious food (ah Eli's, you will always be a fave).

The Script

It took me a good day to get down from my cloud. I was thrilled to learn the new area I will be moving to, but not without a tinge of sadness as I really liked the team I was working with. I don't think a lot of companies allow their employees to do team outings in State Fairs or pontoons, or have Friday afternoon mini-golf tournaments and Nerf gun battles...

Cut to the weekend (coz everybody's looking to the weekend, weekend...), and it was the most relaxed yet productive (I know, I know, I live in a world of contradictions) long weekend ever, as I had some fun visitors stay with me to see Minneapolis, Mariel-style. We started off by visiting that mecca of excess, Mall of America for some good ol' style shopping. And I realized why I hate MoA on the weekends: all those damn kids. I swear one of these days I'm going to just wear riot police gear when I go shopping there so I could just plow through the crowd and get to my shopping. After the mall that resulted in one measly (but pretty) shirt, we headed back to Minneapolis for dinner at Rinata, which was also a first for me. It was an absolute gem of a find in Uptown, with deliciously fresh bread service, mouth-watering mushroom and blue cheese bruschetta, and salty, unctuous soppressata salami pizza. And delicious eye candy, per my friends. :)

Soppressata Salami Pizza @ Rinata

After a filling dinner, we walked it off -- and I do mean WALK -- by taking a stroll down the Mississippi River. I sometimes forget how beautiful the Riverfront is, especially when you take in the gorgeous view of the skyline from the St. Anthony Bridge...

Mill City Museum

Hennepin Bridge, Riverfront, Minneapolis

Of course, you've gots to end Saturday night with a blast, which we did on the dance floors of Gay 90's (I swear, they should have a loyalty card for that place, coz I go there so often I should be getting free drinks by now). I told Jade the drinks there were pretty strong, to which -- a few drinks later -- he happily agreed with, adding "I didn't know they would be that strong." Indeed, if there's anyone who knows how to make a mean Vodka Diet, it would be the 90's. All those drinks definitely helped keep myself and Jade warm after we left the bar at 2 AM and couldn't catch one effing taxi. I swear, some taxi drivers can be such jerks; none of them wanted to take us because we were "too close" to make money off of. Thankfully, the pedicabs came to our rescue, as we rode two separate pedicabs in 40 degree weather back home. THANK YOU Carson and Stormy (yep, that was his name) for driving us all the way to Slice of New York, grabbing some late night grub at 3 AM with us, and getting us home safe and (cold but) sound.

Don't mess.

With all the craziness of Saturday, Sunday ended up a little more low-key, which was just the way I like my Sunday. Well, first off we woke up at 2 PM, so that pretty much dictated the rest of the day. We had great Vietnamese food at Pho 79 and got Jade hooked on the delicious elixir that is the pho broth. :) Afterwards, we walked a few mere blocks to my favorite free museum in Minneapolis, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. It never ceases to amaze me how so much beauty can be housed in this museum that kinda pops out of nowhere in a residential neighborhood, and is offered to its patrons for free!

I carry that same grateful feeling when I walk to the Sculpture Garden by the Walker and get to show my friends the famous Cherry & Spoon Bridge, as well as other sculpture pieces. I do love how you can get the most perfect view of the Minneapolis skyline from this vantage point.

We ended Sunday with a dinner cooked at home (parmesan crusted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes, yuuuuuumy!) and our umpteenth viewing of Enchanted. Alas, "True Love's Kiss," "Happy Working Song," and "So Close" were stuck in our heads for the remainder of the long weekend. At least it replaced "Rehab" (seriously). :)

You never take a Monday holiday for granted, so we rented a Zipcar and drove to another oversized, excessive establishment called Albertville Outlet Malls. Labor Day Weekend is that magical holiday when all retailers decide to drop their prices (and even more from their already discounted outlet retails) and entice shoppers to spend their hard-earned cash on things like margarita makers and Crocs shoes. To which I say, "To each their own, I'm gonna get myself three good bras" (which I did; score!!!). Shopping feels most satisfying when I achieve certain goals, and I was definitely cheery after I found the best pair of sandals that I will use over and over again until it quits on me. I heart Clarks. Seriously.

Alas, not all weekends can last forever, and after 5 very productive hours of shopping, I decided to take my friends on one last hoorah by going to the whitest place I know, Maynard's in Excelsior. I could see my friends were very titillated by the sights. And I'm not just talking about the lakefront view.

Last week was a wonderful, blessed week. I'm so grateful I got to experience it with great company, and I'm glad to share it with my friends and family in writing. And, every week can be this fabulous; coz life is what we make it. Like a boss.

Don't Mess with Texas.

2011-06-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

Otherwise, she will leave you out in the middle of a summer day in San Antonio, without an A/C in site. That'll do it.

Yep, if there's anything that defines Texans' rebelliousness, it's that they've decided to live in Texas. Damn the incessantly hot and humid weather, the parched earth, and the large, untamed landscape. What do Texans do? They build huge, air-conditioned cities, till the land and herd the cows, and connect the vast state with huge 12-lane freeways. I'm not sure I have the cojones to live in Texas (well, primarily because I am female), but I had an absolutely brilliant time spending my Memorial Day weekend in Houston & San Antonio with my lovely family. Ain't no better way to spend a weekend vacation than by eating, sweating, and eating some more.

Day 1: Hot damn, I'm in Texas.
Given the lukewarm weather in Minnesota, I was obviously looking forward to the much, much warmer weather in Houston. I got a word of warning from my aunt via Facebook post, saying it's going to be hot in Texas. I remember thinking, "Meh, how different could it be?" Answer: VERY. The moment I stepped out of that airport, it felt like Manila all over again. Every skin gland in my body started screaming "Where the hell are we?!" My cellphone said it was 83 degrees, but it felt more like 93. Funny thing, this wasn't even the hottest time of the year; whereas once it hits 90 degrees in Minneapolis, people start bitching, in Texas it's just another May day.

As eager as I was to eat food that -- in my mind -- defines Texas (beef brisket, Tex Mex, Whataburger and the like), I was far more excited to get my Filipino food on. You know how you don't know how good you've got it until it's gone? Well, that's how I feel about not having Filipino restaurants in Minnesota. So, my first stop straight from the airport was Filipiniana Restaurant at Bissonnet Street. It may not be the best Filipino buffet in the world, but it was still damn good. Every dish was ridiculously rich (read: rolling in oil) and flavorful, from the bistek to the humba, the classic adobo and the peanut butter goodness of kare-kare. I was home; and the humidity in the restaurant really made me feel like I was home in the Philippines. How nostalgic!

After suffering from a ridiculous food coma, we headed back to Katy to rest up and then headed straight to see the Menil Collection in Houston's museum district. It's amazing what oil money can buy, like an entire gallery full of amazing artwork, open to the public for free. They have everything from post-modern pieces (including a disturbing 'artwork' made of wax and real human hair...it makes me shiver just thinking of it), but also artifacts from Pan-Asian and African cultures, as well as some surrealist paintings from the likes of Brauner, Max Ernst, and a few Picasso pieces. I'm so glad my family was there to infuse some humor into an otherwise somber (and oftentimes WTF?) art viewing. You could never get all artsy-fartsy around us before someone calls you, well, artsy-fartsy.

We then headed to the beautiful Hermann Park in the middle of Houston, which has an amazing lake, a venue for concerts (like the Motown evening happening when we were there) and a gorgeous garden. It was the perfect place to take a lovely stroll with my beautiful cousins, and just take some glamor nature shots while I'm at it.

Dinner was quintessential Texas, as we headed to Spring Creek Barbecue for some honest-to-goodness food, cafeteria style. The meats were succulent (especially the sausage, which I all but stole from my cousin's plate), the sides were unlimited (but of course!), and the sweet tea was refreshing.

After a full belly and a viewing of Tangled (which I admittedly bawled my eyes out to), I prepare myself for our field trip to the home of the Alamo, San Antonio, TX.

Interesting Texas fact: They are the only state that can fly their state flag at the same height as the US flag, because they were once an independent country. And they sure love their flag.

Day 2: Remembering (or learning about) the Alamo.
I woke up bright and early to the smell of Kolache buns, which are these amazing pastries filled with every kind of meat you can think of. I don't think I've ever had anything like it, and I want some now just thinking about it. Especially those sausage, cheese, and potato ones? Yes, please!

San Antonio is about 3 hours from Houston, so we got a pretty good beauty rest until we stopped at Buc-ee's, which is like an overblown gas station convenience store (think a miniature version of Wal-Mart) with everything from Texas souvenirs to hats to beef jerky to Kolaches (yay!) to Buc-ee's Nuggets and more. As the cliche goes, everything's big in Texas, and this place was no different.

We began our tour of San Antonio (or, really, my tour since I was the only newbie in the group) by visiting the 4 "other" missions in the San Antonio mission trail: Concepcion, San Jose, San Juan, and Espada. Since it was a Sunday, there were masses going on in some of the missions (like at Concepcion); it was inspiring to know that some missions are actually still functioning up to this day. It was also nice that all missions had air-conditioned areas, because that day was insanely hot.

Of course, you can't visit the San Antonio missions without hitting up the big one: The Alamo. It was interesting learning about the Alamo, and being schooled on the fact that they actually lost that battle. I always thought they won that one. So much for acing US History.

The six flags of Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, Confederate, Texas Republic, and United States of America

The Riverwalk is a beautiful stroll along the San Antonio river (which really reminded me more of a canal more than anything). It was easy to get suckered into the touristy side of it all and maybe jump on one of the tour boats, but I felt like this was such a gorgeous place that even natives frequent. All that said, we still ended up having dinner in a tourist trap that wasn't half bad: Casa Rio, the oldest restaurant on the Riverwalk. Hey, as long as I got my enchiladas and margaritas on, I'm happy.

Margarita es bonita

A-maaah-zing enchilada platter smothered in cheese and sour cream.

The lovely crew about to get some Mexican food on

Day 3: Chillin' like a villain.
Whereas Sunday was very productive and exhausting, Monday was lazy and relaxing. Another former staple that I lost upon my move to Minnesota were huge Asian supermarkets, so I was more than eager to hit up 99 Ranch and stock up on my Filipino junk food and other goodies. Afterwards, we ate at a good ol' Korean restaurant, introducing the fam to Korean food's greatest hits: bulgogi, bibimbap, banchan, and seafood pancakes.

In the afternoon, we went for some local Shiner beer and crawfish (my first time eating it!) at the Pub Hub, and continued on the food trip for some more good barbecue from Big Daddy's. Hot damn I love the q.

So much work for little meat, but somehow still worth it!

Epilogue
Two weeks and ** lbs. later, I'm still missing Texas. Sure, the weather's gotten better here in Minnesota, but there's definitely a lot more adventures to be had in that kick-ass state, where the food is plentiful and delicious, the heritage is rich and proud, the weather is caliente, and the people are friendly and loving. But you still don't wanna mess with them, probably.

Pasta with anchovy

2011-04-24T22:10:00.000-07:00

Ever since I had this dish at a taste testing for my sister's wedding reception two years ago, I've always wanted to make this simple dish. This is the second time I've made this, and I've added a twist by putting in a raw egg in the end (kind of like in carbonara). It's so flipping easy, I'm not even gonna put down instructions. You figure out how to make it based on these photos (OK, fine, I'll place hints in the caption). Have fun!

Your ingredients. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

The salty piece de resistance - anchovies

Saute the onions, garlic, and anchovies in an olive oil-butter mix

Beat the eggs while you toss the cooked pasta into the saute pan

Mix the egg into the pasta, away from the heat. Make sure to toss quickly so you don't scramble the eggs too much

Finished product!

Coffee Monster

2011-04-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

Yup, that pretty much sums up what I'm like every day. I need some Joe in my life.

Tipping is not a city in Russia

2011-04-11T20:39:00.000-07:00

I have arrived.

Who wakes up at 8 AM on a friggin' Sunday morning to do anything? As I recently found out, it's this moi, as I hauled my sleepy ass to Al's Breakfast in Dinkytown yesterday (yes, it even has it's own Wikipedia entry; boom-shaka-laka). I've been wanting to visit this place, which was given the James Beard Foundation Award for being an "American Classic," since I moved to Minneapolis. First, because it was featured on Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives (I know, I'm such a gullible Food Network lemming), and second, because I have a friend who's a native and a former U of M student & swears by this place as having some of the most epic, diner food in the city. And, really, that's all the confirmation I need to make a field trip beyond the Mississippi River to 14th Ave SE (think Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, except cleaner) to try me some Al's.

I felt ever so smug (and horrified) waking up at 8 AM on a Sunday, thinking our group would get to Al's before it opened at 9 AM, and that we would be in front of the omnipresent line of locals, tourists, and transplants-who-take-forever-to-eat-at-Al's. How naive of me; at 8:50 AM, the line was about 20 deep, and I felt like such a jerk cutting in front of a few folks because our friends were already in line. Since I believe in food karma, I think that's why my lunch today was absolutely bland and horrible (bleh).

The moment the doors open at 9 AM to this ten feet wide (yep, you read that right) diner, people stream in and take one of the fourteen stools, while 14 more people stand behind them. This is the intricate dance at Al's; the place is so damn narrow and small that you need to call your seat by hovering over someone else's breakfast for about 30 minutes or more. It's uncomfortable, it's hot, and it's memorable.

The crew impatiently waiting behind the diners

I smile, but only because I was having 20 oz. of caffeine pumped into my bloodstream

The wait is part of the entire Al's experience, though. There was never a fleeting moment where I thought "why exactly am I doing this again?" Not. At. All. Much like the Mickey's Diner experience of St. Paul, this is one of those activities you just gotta do to experience the city's artery-clogging history, its greased-up food culture. And, having that waiting time allowed me to catch up with my friends, talk about life, and observe every nook and cranny of this joint, from the tchotchkes coming out of every corner, to the different denominations hanging out on the back wall of the kitchen, to the funny signs.

Denominations from all over the world...and Batman!

Prepaid cards for the regulars

The aforementioned Tipping sign

Their James Beard medal. Bow before greatness.

After about 30 minutes of waiting (and that's after several impatient people left), our group was finally seated, and luckily we got to sit close to the smoking hot flat top. The short order cook was nothing short of amazing; she seriously was the multi-tasking ninja of short order cooks.

The griddle, frying up amazing beautiful things

It was pretty difficult deciding on what to get, especially since everything on their slightly oily, laminated menus sounded so delicious (and LDL-raising). Eventually, I chose the 2 Poached eggs on corned beef hash with a side of rye bread. I also ordered a short stack of blueberry walnut flapjacks for my group to share, since you know I couldn't pass up the chance to get a well-rounded experience. And, also, I'm not so sure when I'll be back here again. :) Our master chef whipped up our plates in very little time. It was so fun watching her crisp up a mound of hashbrowns, before putting two meticulously handled poached eggs on top, then burying the whole thing in a mound of cheddar cheese and steaming the entire food monster. When it came out of its shell, I nearly shed a tear. It was beautiful.

Look at how that glob of melted cheddar cheese just glistens.

One more glamor shot

Really great flapjacks

I've been to food institutions where I come away going "Eh? What's so great about that place?" Sometimes, it's because I just came at an off day (like Top Dog in Berkeley...once), or maybe because the place really wasn't that special to begin with, and I feel like it's just kept alive by the hype (sorry Philippe's, I'm looking at you). And then, you have a place like Al's Breakfast, which is actually good. It's not phenomenal by any means, and I can probably make the same corned beef hash if you gave me a commercial griddle (how epic would my kitchen be?). But, taken at face value, the food is something good diners produce. It's greasy, it's rich, and it's flavorful. The flapjacks have real berries and nuts in it and (my favorite part!) has the wonderful aftertaste of the other savory stuff from the griddle that it was just on; I appreciate the co-mingling of sweet and salty. The rye bread was positively ryetastic (copyrighted by Mariel Lisud 2011), and the hash browns have the perfect crispy, burnt outsides and buttery insides.

Oh, and for the first time, my fast-eating skills that my family is painfully good at (we would SO suck being French) was actually appreciated at this diner. As I swiftly inhaled (and enjoyed; I can do both at the same time, believe it or not) my breakfast, I just think of the healthier, more productive things I could be doing with my Sunday morning.

Then I let out a lovely belch, and ceased to care.

PORK CHOP! (with Apple Sauce)

2011-04-07T21:44:00.000-07:00

This is my dissenting dish.

Let me explain. I used to not eat pork, because my family followed a kosher diet. No, we're not Jewish (although I consider myself to be a mensch who says "Oy vey" more than my Jewish co-worker), but the religion I grew up in followed the OT (that's Old Testament to y'all heathens) to a T (Ha, I wasn't even trying to be witty there). Anyway, I have since grown up, and with that have challenged these Levitical laws and think for myself. I've concluded that a) I don't believe in religious conventions anymore and b) pork is effing awesome and I will not 'keep kosher,' thank you very much. I mean, seriously, once you have a bite of bacon, you're ruined for life, man. And pulled pork sandwiches? And pork banh mi? Get real. Pork works. So, in a way, this dish is the object of my objection to former beliefs, a big wag of my finger to those who said "Swine Sucks."

In reality, though, I've been eating non-kosh since I was in church school, so this dish really isn't pivotal. It is an important moment though, because this is the first real meal I've cooked in the last month. Yes, I am a restaurant whore. I was also super excited to make this because it involved sage, which is a spice that I often eat but have never cooked, and also because this is supposedly a healthy dish (at least that's what Real Simple said). Pork chops with apple sauce is super simple to make, and I'm not even going to put in measurements, 'coz I'm really not a measure-y kinda gal:

Pork chop

Rubbed Sage

Salt & Pepper

Apples, sliced

Shallots, diced

Garlic, diced

Olive Oil

Beef broth

Butter (or butter substitute)

White Wine

Honey

Cornstarch + water, to thicken

The ingredients

The star of the show, rubbed sage

Step 1. Coat the pork with sage, salt & pepper

Step 2. Pan fry the pork chops in an olive oil-butter combination

Step 3. Make sure they're cooked through so you don't get food poisoning

Step 4. Meanwhile, chop the shallots and slice the apples

Step 5. Put aside the cooked pork chops, and in the same pan saute the shallots and apples

Step 6. Put in some beef broth (chicken broth works, too) and simmer; add some white wine, chug the rest

Step 7. Pour some (sugar on me!!!) honey, do not chug

Step 8. Pour some cornstarch slurry to thicken up the sauce

Step 9. Place the pork chops back into the pan

Step 10. Make a side of mixed greens with loads of croutons and gorgonzola crumbles, because they're good for you

Step 11. Serve and enjoy!

I enjoy being a girl.

2011-04-03T21:09:00.000-07:00

I am not a heavy makeup kind of girl, although I wouldn't pass up a moment to get dolled up, especially if it's for free (e.g. those awesome Yelp! Elite events) or done well (e.g. during my sister's wedding). I just need some good foundation, light eyeshadow, and maybe some eyeliner action to make my small eyes pop (or distract from the sad dark shadows under my eye. BTW, does anyone have a recommendation for a good dark circle serum?). Probably my favorite piece(s) in my (very small) makeup kit would be my Bare Minerals matte foundation in Golden Tan, BM tinted mineral veil, and BM Blush (totally loving Joyous Jennifer) or All-Over Face Color.

Now, why am I talking about my love for Bare Minerals? Two reasons...

First, it's the first face makeup that didn't make me breakout or made my face feel clogged up. I was being a total zombie one summer night back in Berkeley, and I saw the ubiquitous Bare Minerals infomercials, and I really bought into it! So, I decided to go the Bare Escentuals store on 4th Street and got my first kit, and now I'm totally hooked. It is something I invest in and replace every 6-12 months, depending on what it is (blushes last waaaay longer than the foundation, obviously). I actually think it's time I buy some new brushes, too. Maybe I'll try the Sonia Kashuk brushes that you can get exclusively at Target (now that's hawking my own company. haha).

Second, I love love love going to the Bare Escentuals store and getting beautified by the super nice "Beauty Ambassadors." Even if I only visit the boutiques once or twice a year, the experiences have always been wonderful, and I like looking at and coveting the different shades of blushes, eye shadows, etc.

My most recent visit was specially nice, because I finally got their custom kit, which is an absolute steal at $55 + tax. You get the foundation plus two powders (one in large, one in medium) and it all comes with the makeup bag! But, the best part of it all is that BE puts your purchase in a reusable bag. A reusable bag! For free!!! I'm not a tree hugger or anything, but I am so impressed that Bare Escentuals as a company would commit to an eco-friendly solution. And the bag looks great, too!

I can't believe I'm as giddy about trying out my new makeup as I am about trying out a new restaurant, but I cannot wait for my old stash to run out so I can start using the new radiance and mineral veil. What's your favorite makeup piece, and why?

Tossed salads and scrambled eggs...[Seattle Part I]

2011-03-28T21:05:00.000-07:00

Seattle in March isn't actually the ideal respite -- weather-wise -- from a chilly Minnesota winter. After all, it was still in the 30's and 40's when I arrived there for a family vacation two weeks ago. Despite the light showers that dotted my vacation, I had such an amazing time in the beautiful Emerald City (and Vancouver, part deux!) with my lovely famiglia.

Seattle feels like a very livable and lively city, with plenty of neighborhoods to explore, an appealing culture and a fascinating history, all surrounded by ridiculously gorgeous nature, including Mt. Rainier. It's larger than Minneapolis, but has a few similarities to my current city, such as its high literacy rate, beautiful Central Public Library, and (of course!) a great foodie heaven. My family can seriously spend 90% of our vacation time just eating,; we could be on a safari trip in Africa, and all we'd want to do is eat the same gazelle that lion is gnawing on (note to self: Africa trip?). That said, we did find some time to look up from our plates and embark on other activities...

Wednesday:
It's almost freaky how I'm always the first one to wake up when I'm on vacation, especially since I used to have to be kicked (literally) by my sister to wake up for school or church. I guess I was still operating on Central Standard Time. This has absolutely nothing to do with anything, except that I would like to gloat about my awesomeness. OK thank you.
Our first stop was Pioneer Square to do the Bill Speidel's Underground Tour. I was surprised at how hilly the city is (how could I have missed that fact from my Wikipedia research beforehand? tsk tsk), and equally relieved that we were driving around my 'rents minivan. The Underground Tour tells the fascinating history of Seattle's crappy days when it was a city built on sea level, and during high tide everything from the sea washed back ashore (think about it: everything that went out, coming back in). Long story short, merchant vs. city = stores built before street level was raised = underground city. It's hard to explain, but fun to explore.

We had lunch @ Red Mill, after it was lauded quite heavily on Man V. Food. I gotta say, though, I've had better burgers. Perhaps it was just because it wasn't prime time (i.e lunch), but the burger wasn't at its peak of perfection. That said, it was a very good burger...it's just that I've also had ridiculously good burgers elsewhere.

Red Mill Onion Jam Burger with cheese

Because I grew a sweet tooth somewhere between California and Minnesota, I now have to have dessert after every proper meal. So, before we go back to the touristy spots, we decided to go the nearest sweets place with a high Yelp! rating = Hiroki, which is this adorable shop in a residential neighborhood with very yummy specialty cheesecakes. Word of advice: Get the green tea cheesecake; it's so decadent but refreshing. Pair it with a steaming cup of jasmine tea, and I feel so lackadaisical (I admit, I had to use spell check for that...darn it!)

Feeling very stuffed (but not guilty; we bury that emotion down during vacations), we decided to walk off a miniscule % of our calorie intake at the Seattle Center in the Queen Anne neighborhood. It was pretty cloudy already, but we still got to briskly tour a sliver of the place, making stops at the Experience Music Center (which was closing at that point) and of course, the Space Needle. The place reminded me of Tomorrowland in Disneyland, particularly the monorail that ran from SC to the shopping district. I mean, c'mon can you blame the kid?

The Contours of the slightly confusing Experience Music Center/Science Fiction Museum

As day was turning into night, we decided to catch great sunset views at the quintessential Seattle tourist destination: Pike Place Market. Unfortunately (because it is a functioning market that has regular hours), a lot of the storefronts were already closing by the time we got there. But not before I caught (haha, lame pun) a glimpse of the flying fish being thrown by those fish guys. Now, if only I had the moolah to actually buy that fish.

I was able to get some piroshkies from Piroshky, Piroshky, which apparently is an Anthony Bourdain- approved food place (um, hell yeah I'm going to buy bad-ass food). A piroshky is basically a Russian meat-stuffed bun, which is something I bet every cuisine has (from empanadas to varenikis to turnovers to samosas, we all love our buns stuffed; and please get your mind out of the gutter).

But, the piece de resistance, the crowning jewel, the highlight of the day would have to be my visit to the first ever Starbucks in the world. Yeah, you know that Pike Place they refer to in their Pike Place Roasts? Yeah, it's this Pike Place, bitch.

Ok, I get a little crude when I get excited, my apologies. (You sure wouldn't want me around fireworks, then). But, you gotta understand, this is my Disneyland, man; I drink way too much Starbucks coffee not to be all giddy about the mother of all Starbucks stores. Come to think of it, it's probably all that SB coffee that's making me jittery.

My silly arm is covering the word "First"

After downing my 3rd cup of caffeine for the day, I close my first eventful day in Seattle with a couple episodes of Southland, and a plan for tomorrow, when we shall travel to that strange, foreign land called Vancouver, Canada.

The Burger Club

2011-03-23T21:49:00.000-07:00

I love burgers. No words have rung truer. I love burgers because they combine three of my most favorite food groups: bread (Carbs), meat (Protein), and cheese (Fat), coz I need cheese on mine all the time. Also, I'm not a burger purist by any stretch of the imagination; if you've got intriguing ways to get a burger to an 11, by all means go ahead and do it. That's why some of my favorite burgers in recent memory include the Black & Blue burger from Eli's in Minneapolis, and the Jiffy Burger from Blue Door Pub in St. Paul.

That said, I also believe that for any burger to be epic, you have to lay a strong foundation...that is, you gotta have fresh, juicy, delicious burger meat. And the 112 Burger at 112 Eatery epitomizes how memorably good a basic cheeseburger experience could be.

I've been to 112 Eatery several times already since I moved to Minneapolis; three times already since the beginning of 2011. Excessive? Probably. But oh-so-worth it. I love feasting over their appetizers and shared plates more than I do their entrees. Oh, and I might've swooned over their butterscotch budino, too. It's probably my 2nd favorite restaurant in Minneapolis (right after my neighborhood joint, Eli's). For this latest visit, I joined a wonderful group called "The Burger Club" to try their famous burger. Can I just digress and say that Minnesotans are obsessed with burgers, so much so that someone decided to have a burger make love to a slice of cheese and -- voila! -- the Jucy Lucy is born.

Anyway, back to my aventura de carnivoro. First off, I got some refreshing, acidic Limonata to provide some break from the (foreseeably) greasy burger:

Then, they served us with these simple but addictive peanuts:

Given that this was my first attendance of the Burger Club, I didn't want to commit heresy by ordering something other than the burger, but 112's menu sure as hell looked enticing. Steak tartare? Raw oysters? Tie me down now before I go mental:

But, I'm here for the burger. Like everything else on their menu, 112 Eatery's Cheeseburger is so fantastically delicious and delivers a fully-flavored punch to the gut (the good, playful kind of punch). Again, when you do the basics perfectly, you get perfect results. The meat is a wonderful medium-rare, seasoned very lightly but heightened by the tiny bits of sweet onion mixed into the patty. The cheese is really where the saltiness comes from. Then it's all laid on a toasted English muffin.

And, for a burger that's seemingly tiny, this baby is actually a fat baby; it's pretty fulfilling. It must be all that gooey, melty brie cheese, or that healthy burger patty, or the buttery muffin. Whatever it is, it was enough to put a dent in stomach and a smile on my face. In other words, I left a beat up, upbeat fool.

What's your favorite burger, and where can I get it?

Have you eaten yet?

2011-03-21T23:00:00.000-07:00

Thus, the backbone of every Filipino household's greeting: Kumain ka na ba? Have you eaten yet? Even if it's 3 in the morning, your host will still ask if you've eaten already, or would like something to eat. It doesn't matter if they have to wake up the help to get some burgers from Burger Machine, or set out extra plates whilst their own family is in the middle of lunch, the Filipino household's hospitality is pretty unparalleled in that regard.

And, while I've spent the last 8 years living in the States now, with a family that eats out more than we'd care to admit, that habit of asking visitors -- expected and unexpected, wanted and unwanted, from your mother to your mother-in-law -- "Have you eaten yet?" as a form of "Hello" has stuck. Back in San Gabriel, instead of setting out extra silverware, we love inviting people to restaurants that are either our go-to's or new places we'd like to try out, too. That's how we found out our first "regular" restaurant; our close friends brought us to Noodle World in Alhambra and introduced us to the awesomeness that is every-popular-Asian-cuisine-imaginable. Now that I'm living on my own, in my adult shoes with my grown-up job, I continue to greet my friends, family, and (once in a blue DC moon) strangers with an invite to chow down and discover new restaurants or rediscover favorites.

That's also why I wanted to start this blog. Writing is a release for me, as well as the only art form I am actually any good at. And the dining experience is my muse. Through this blog, I hope to explore with y'all the foodie heavens (or foodie hells; it all depends) that I encounter in my current home -- Minneapolis/St. Paul, in the places I visit, and ~~sometimes~~ rarely in my own test kitchen. I think the dining table is oftentimes the best place to bond with family, friends, and new possibilities; hopefully, this virtual dining table (I know, cheese is seeping from every pore of my skin) will foster thoughtful or silly or funny or cynical -- and altogether human -- dialogue. While this site won't be all about the edibles (nope, not that kind of edibles, silly rabbit), there'll still be lots of food for thought (someone stop me before I say another painfully corny line).

At the very least, I aim to make you hungry with my food photos and wish that you have eaten already. That being said, I'm going to make myself a sandwich. Love, peace, and chicken grease.

And chicken feet, too!