Random stuff from my visit to NYC

I was in New York City for work last week, and stayed at The Club Quarter Hotel in downtown Manhattan. The hotel was nice, business-oriented and clean. However, there were two drawbacks: (1) My room directly overlooked the old World Trade Center site—a bit creepy and very sad; (2) They stuck me on the 14th floor. There's nothing wrong with the number 14, but there's plenty wrong with the number 4, if you are Chinese. This ominous number symbolizes death in the Chinese culture, so between the view and the location of the room, I almost requested a room change.

But...I ended up getting distracted by the water unit that was right outside of my room. It was a purified water unit with a rack of empty plastic bottles for the guests to fill up and take to their room. Pretty cool and convenient. But, I wondered if these bottles were actually clean. Do they re-use these bottles, and even if they don’t, what’s to keep the other folks from putting their dirty bottle in amongst the clean ones? While I liked having access to clean drinking water without having to pay the rip-off fee of $4/hotel-room bottle, I couldn't get over the fact that I could be drinking out of someone else’s saliva/germ-filled water bottle. The solution? I used my own bottle that I had brought with me on the trip. Here’s to thinking ahead.

Are the bottles clean? Dirty? No one will ever know...

Every time I’m back in the City, I realize how much I miss its energy and its different neighborhoods. And the food. Over a dinner meeting, a co-worker mentioned that the downside of living in NYC is the cost of living and the cost of food. The latter puzzled me, because when I lived in NYC, I was always able to find great food for less than $20. To be fair, I did not dine in expensive, see-or-be-seen restaurants. Rather, I loved going to different ethnic neighborhoods and eating at a little hole in the wall where the focus is not on the atmosphere but rather, on making their food well. I didn't have a lot of time this trip, but I did manage to stop in at a Japanese noddle shop for a nice bowl of Udon ($5.75), and swing by Chinatown for some of their pastries (two for less than $5). I was in heaven.

My Frugal Valentine

I’ve never been a big Valentine’s Day person, meaning I've never expected big, fancy dinners or expensive gifts. Rather, I'm perfectly happy with a home-made card and a nice dinner at home, because in my opinion, Valentine's Day has become way too commercialized. All around, restaurants and stores use this holiday as an opportunity to shamelessly gouge you -- e.g. A very special Valentine's Day prix fixe menu! (read:don't expect to spend less than $50 per person). And by the way, don't even get me started on Sweetest Day, which in my opinion, is the most egregious example of a made-up holiday designed solely to boost retail sales.

I still remember an incident that occurred over ten years ago, when K and I were seriously dating. He bought me a breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklace during one Valentine’s Day--it was long and intricate, with beads of diamond laced into white gold. But it was also big and flashy; not exactly my style as I’m a simple gal. Besides, I knew that he was saving up his hard-earned money to buy me an engagement ring (a feat, if you're living in NYC with sky-high rent), so why should I impose a further drain on his resources on a purchase that I didn’t need?

So we trudged back to the jewelry store together so that I can exchange it for something simpler and less expensive. We explained to the sales lady our situation, and wanted to see if she can recommend a better alternative for me. And you know what she said to me? She actually said, “You silly, silly girl. You should take what he buys you, and demand more.” I had to bite my lips from saying:  “You stupid, stupid old gold-digger. This isn’t the '50s anymore.” But I was as polite as can be, picking an simple necklace that cost half the amount despite her grumblings.

In the end, Valentine’s Day is not about jewelry, or nice dinner, or bouquets of flowers. It’s about taking the time to realize how lucky I am to be with two people I love more than anything else in the whole world.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The Faceless Snowman

Meet Melvin, the snow buddy that I built last Friday. He looks a bit sloppy, but he's a happy dude and made with lots of love. I have always liked building snowmen. While I'm not crazy about having to roll and haul the big snow balls, I enjoy giving my snow buddies their distinct faces. Once Melvin's head and body was created, I gave him some flare with a carrot, a couple of wine stoppers and some gum balls. I thought EB would be ecstatic with the end product, so imagine my confusion when she had the opposite response.

EB: “Can we make a mean snowman instead?”
Me: “Melvin is not mean; he's a really nice snowman.”
EB: “I don’t want to build a nice snowman. I want a monster snowman.”

I was perplexed-- K and I make a point of only letting her watch feel-good shows – Barney, Dora, Kai-Lan—so where does this child get her fixation on creating an evil snowman? After some prodding, EB blurted out: “I don’t want the nice snowman to melt. Only mean snowman can melt.”


Ahh; now it made sense. EB is at an age where she is grappling with the concept of justice, in an idyllic sort of way. That is, bad things should only happen to bad people and nice people should be spared from tragic events. If only, little girl.

I tried explained to her that sometimes, bad things happen to nice people. Which inevitably led to multiple “whys.” Which left me even more confounded, because the truth is, I’m still really not sure myself. Is it because world events are truly random? Is it God’s will? How do you explain to a four-year old that sometimes, really nasty things happen to the nicest people, and there is not one thing anyone can do about it? If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.

The next morning, Melvin had transformed into a faceless dude. Apparently, EB had removed every single one of his facial parts – if he can’t be a mean snowman, he can at least be faceless.

Then the afternoon came, and Melvin melted off into a pool of nothingness. How sad. But at least EB had wiped the smile off his face before he met his inevitable demise.