Last June, after donating $25 to Cornell (directed to the Cornell Chimes fund), I decided I could commit myself to donating $25 every year in perpetuity. Furthermore, to make sure my gift would maintain the same buying power over time, this amount would be adjusted each year to account for inflation.
Well, BLS has just released the CPI numbers for the month of May, so I did some quick math to calculate my annual contribution to Cornell:
$25 in 2008 dollars * 213.856 (May '09 CPI-U, all items) / 216.632 (May '08 CPI-U) = $24.68 in 2009 dollars
Ah, deflation. Thank you, Helicopter Ben!
I can't wait to get my letter from President David Skorton thanking me for my $24.68 donation this year.
Showing posts with label Cornell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cornell. Show all posts
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, December 26, 2008
Scenes from the City
On the morning I was scheduled to leave, a major snowstorm was forecasted to dump 8-12" of snow on Chicagoland. To make things worse, the same storm would be following me to the East coast. I warily woke up at 4 am for a 6:15 flight, trudged through the drifts to get to Midway, and prayed that they wouldn't cancel my flight.
According to FAA regulations, planes cannot take off if there are more than two types of precipation falling. Well, what else is there besides rain and snow? As it turned out, on that day, Chicago was blessed with "freezing rain, freezing snow, freezing fog, and freezing pellets." (Don't ask me what the difference between hail and freezing pellets is.) Eventually, the intensity of the storm slackened enough that we were able to board. At that point, we needed to de-ice the plane, but after that was completed, they announced that 3 types of precipitation were now falling. Two hours of cat-and-mouse plane-de-icing and watching the storm later, we finally took off.
I'll be the first to admit that I have unusual tastes, but rice pudding has always been one of my favorite desserts. From the cinnamon rice pudding at Cedar's to Tibetan tsampa, you can't go wrong with a silky concoction of pudding, warm in the winter or studded with fruit and nuts in the summer. Enter Rice to Riches, a Nolita spot offering rice pudding and nothing else. With futuristic curved spoons and neon-colored bowls, rice pudding has never been sexier. We opted to try the cranberry-apple and gingerbread flavors, but there were dozens more options. The price is a bit of a turn-off, but if you are a rice pudding fan, it's worth a visit to see what new heights rice pudding can take you.
The Museum of Sex is comprised of two floors of a narrow building in Chelsea, barely noticeable for harried pedestrians below. The bland exterior conceals plenty of titillating material inside though. At the moment, the featured exhibit is about the sex lives of animals. Other sections of the museum discuss the history and medicalization of sexuality, and the depiction of sex in cinema. Having taken Desire senior year, much of this was old material for me, but it's still fun to spend an afternoon ogling hentai and humping ducks in the name of scientific inquiry.
Needless to say, Megan and I decided to tell her dad that we'd spent the afternoon at the Met.
On the LIRR to Ronkonkoma, we hit a bit of a bump in the road. Literally, the train was cruising along and we felt the bump of an impact. Megan asked, "Wait, did we hit a car?" I replied, "No way, we barely felt that...it must have been a clod of snow, or maybe a tree trunk." The train slowed to a stop and they announced, "We have just hit a vehicle. Please be patient while EMS and the police are called to the scene."
Of course, my first reaction was to comment, "Ugh, I hope no one died so we aren't sitting here forever." That elicited a dirty look from the woman across the aisle. At any rate, the car had been unoccupied when we hit it. In fact, we heard from a passing EMT that people had been pushing the car over the tracks when the train showed up. Talk about bad timing.
Since we are terrible people, Megan and I were sort of hoping that Channel 12 would show up and we'd get our 5 minutes of fame. Plus, I texted Matt with news of the train crash, and he responded with, "LOL pics or it didn't happen." Unfortunately, there was NO media coverage of the crash, not even a brief blurb on Newsday. So, I guess it didn't happen.
The Ferris holiday party promised to be a rollicking good time; last year, Darlene had infamously become so drunk, she got stuck in between the coffee table and the couch. At 6 pm, we started slinging back the drinks and gorging on hor d'oeuvres. It's been a while since I've had bacon, but that was a glorious night of bacon-wrapped everything and things on toothpicks. By 8 pm, the house was full and I was doing tequila rose shots with people twice my age. Megan's dad came over to ask what I thought of the party, and I said, "Why is this crazier than any of the parties we threw in college??"
I began chatting with Uncle Steve, who was trying to figure out the name of another woman without asking her. Since I was obviously new, I volunteered to do some reconnaissance and find out her name. Unfortunately, my terrible memory for names combined with a few drinks meant this mission was doomed to failure. I casually waltzed over and introduced myself, then excitedly came back and announced, "Her name's Loretta!" Uncle Steve said, "No way, that's definitely not it." We sent someone else to go ask, and the woman said, "Oh, I'm Christine." As a result, Uncle Steve called me "Loretta" the rest of the night, and I jokingly began calling him Richard. Collectively, we sat around and ribbed Megan's dad for the rest of the night. Uncle Steve/Richard: "See that man over there by the stairs? How many months pregnant do you think he is??"
By the end of the night, everyone was feeling festive and probably a menace on the roads. Hence, it was time to move the party to a local dive bar: Cutty's. Once there, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, Megan's dad, Gike (Megan's brother) and several of his friends got entangled in a bar brawl. Ah yes, the night isn't complete unless someone gets thrown to the ground. Luckily, they left before the police arrived, so aside from a few minor bruises, no damage was done.
The soup dumpling (小龍包) is a specialty of Shanghai, and it's fairly uncommon on menus in the US. Even less often are the dumplings made well. Fortunately, Alex introduced me to Joe's Shanghai in Chinatown, where the lighting is colorful, the tofu is spicy, and the soup dumplings are scalding hot. As is common in busy Chinese restaurants, we shared a table with two other parties, and got to ogle their food before ours arrived. The soup dumplings (8 for $4.95) did not fail to impress, as a bit of gentle pressure from the teeth resulted in a gush of flavorful broth from the dumpling.
For good measure, we later tried the midtown branch of Joe's Shanghai. Alas, the prices were higher and the food not as good. I was disappointed to find the dumplings rather tepid in temperature. However, as you might expect, the restaurant was decorated much more tastefully (the neon lights were gone) and we had a table to ourselves.
Next up, the Flushing location.
Though I am not a member, the Cornell Club is a familiar place to me because the marching band traditionally gets free dinner and showers here after the Columbia game. From what I could recall, the food was mediocre, but heck, after a long day of playing and parading down 5th Avenue, I wasn't about to complain.
On the other hand, Rhea is a current member, so she invited me to lunch at the Cayuga Room. The decor is sort of reminiscent of Banfi's (before the remodeling into Taverna Banfi), with lots of wood, paintings of scenes from Ithaca, and understated old-school elegance. The menu also seemed fairly conservative, with nothing that particularly caught my eye, however buried under the section "Dieter's Corner" was a $28 prix fixe menu. For the life of me, I can't understand why restaurants place calorie counts on menus; it was entirely distracting and the interspersed numbers made the menu difficult to read. Still, this was a pretty good deal for the location, so I opted for the shrimp gazpacho, salmon with saffron orzo, and chef's dessert trio (dark chocolate bark, berry shooter and whole almonds). The food was well-executed, a vast improvement from band banquets, and I particularly liked the dessert combination as a light cap to the meal. Rhea also had a coupon for a free bottle of wine, so we nursed that through the meal. Somehow, we managed to be the first guests to arrive and the last to leave, much to the chagrin of the waitstaff.
In a sign of how far we've come since graduation, Viki, Judy and I got together for afternoon tea on the Upper East Side. Alice's Tea Cup is a whimsical tea shop modeled after Alice in Wonderland, with all manner of butterflies, bright colors and curlicue writing on the walls. They serve scones with cream and preserves, in the classic English fashion, along with soup and sandwich options. But the true star of the show is the tea list, with over 100 varieties of tea and herbal infusions. I opted for the Trafalgar Square blend, which was purported to taste like a peppermint patty. As I sipped my tea, pinky extended, I felt ready to take on tea with the Queen next summer in London.
Clearly, karaoke the weekend before in Chicago wasn't enough, so when Jie suggested hitting a karaoke place in the city, I said, "I'll bring my diva and my throat lozenges." After an excellent squid ink pasta at Da Rosina, we trekked over to Japanese-run Karaoke Duet 48, where they were holding a small closet-sized room for us. Like the previous place, this karaoke joint had lots of quirky charm, with "My Neighbor Totoro" playing in the background and binders of Chinese and Japanese song titles. I thought the song selection last weekend was quite good, but this place offered even more esoteric options. Namely, I was really excited to see:
Expenditures: $165.50
Muchos gracias to everyone who bought me dinner and let me crash on their couch :P
According to FAA regulations, planes cannot take off if there are more than two types of precipation falling. Well, what else is there besides rain and snow? As it turned out, on that day, Chicago was blessed with "freezing rain, freezing snow, freezing fog, and freezing pellets." (Don't ask me what the difference between hail and freezing pellets is.) Eventually, the intensity of the storm slackened enough that we were able to board. At that point, we needed to de-ice the plane, but after that was completed, they announced that 3 types of precipitation were now falling. Two hours of cat-and-mouse plane-de-icing and watching the storm later, we finally took off.
I'll be the first to admit that I have unusual tastes, but rice pudding has always been one of my favorite desserts. From the cinnamon rice pudding at Cedar's to Tibetan tsampa, you can't go wrong with a silky concoction of pudding, warm in the winter or studded with fruit and nuts in the summer. Enter Rice to Riches, a Nolita spot offering rice pudding and nothing else. With futuristic curved spoons and neon-colored bowls, rice pudding has never been sexier. We opted to try the cranberry-apple and gingerbread flavors, but there were dozens more options. The price is a bit of a turn-off, but if you are a rice pudding fan, it's worth a visit to see what new heights rice pudding can take you.
The Museum of Sex is comprised of two floors of a narrow building in Chelsea, barely noticeable for harried pedestrians below. The bland exterior conceals plenty of titillating material inside though. At the moment, the featured exhibit is about the sex lives of animals. Other sections of the museum discuss the history and medicalization of sexuality, and the depiction of sex in cinema. Having taken Desire senior year, much of this was old material for me, but it's still fun to spend an afternoon ogling hentai and humping ducks in the name of scientific inquiry.
Needless to say, Megan and I decided to tell her dad that we'd spent the afternoon at the Met.
On the LIRR to Ronkonkoma, we hit a bit of a bump in the road. Literally, the train was cruising along and we felt the bump of an impact. Megan asked, "Wait, did we hit a car?" I replied, "No way, we barely felt that...it must have been a clod of snow, or maybe a tree trunk." The train slowed to a stop and they announced, "We have just hit a vehicle. Please be patient while EMS and the police are called to the scene."
Of course, my first reaction was to comment, "Ugh, I hope no one died so we aren't sitting here forever." That elicited a dirty look from the woman across the aisle. At any rate, the car had been unoccupied when we hit it. In fact, we heard from a passing EMT that people had been pushing the car over the tracks when the train showed up. Talk about bad timing.
Since we are terrible people, Megan and I were sort of hoping that Channel 12 would show up and we'd get our 5 minutes of fame. Plus, I texted Matt with news of the train crash, and he responded with, "LOL pics or it didn't happen." Unfortunately, there was NO media coverage of the crash, not even a brief blurb on Newsday. So, I guess it didn't happen.
The Ferris holiday party promised to be a rollicking good time; last year, Darlene had infamously become so drunk, she got stuck in between the coffee table and the couch. At 6 pm, we started slinging back the drinks and gorging on hor d'oeuvres. It's been a while since I've had bacon, but that was a glorious night of bacon-wrapped everything and things on toothpicks. By 8 pm, the house was full and I was doing tequila rose shots with people twice my age. Megan's dad came over to ask what I thought of the party, and I said, "Why is this crazier than any of the parties we threw in college??"
I began chatting with Uncle Steve, who was trying to figure out the name of another woman without asking her. Since I was obviously new, I volunteered to do some reconnaissance and find out her name. Unfortunately, my terrible memory for names combined with a few drinks meant this mission was doomed to failure. I casually waltzed over and introduced myself, then excitedly came back and announced, "Her name's Loretta!" Uncle Steve said, "No way, that's definitely not it." We sent someone else to go ask, and the woman said, "Oh, I'm Christine." As a result, Uncle Steve called me "Loretta" the rest of the night, and I jokingly began calling him Richard. Collectively, we sat around and ribbed Megan's dad for the rest of the night. Uncle Steve/Richard: "See that man over there by the stairs? How many months pregnant do you think he is??"
By the end of the night, everyone was feeling festive and probably a menace on the roads. Hence, it was time to move the party to a local dive bar: Cutty's. Once there, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, Megan's dad, Gike (Megan's brother) and several of his friends got entangled in a bar brawl. Ah yes, the night isn't complete unless someone gets thrown to the ground. Luckily, they left before the police arrived, so aside from a few minor bruises, no damage was done.
The soup dumpling (小龍包) is a specialty of Shanghai, and it's fairly uncommon on menus in the US. Even less often are the dumplings made well. Fortunately, Alex introduced me to Joe's Shanghai in Chinatown, where the lighting is colorful, the tofu is spicy, and the soup dumplings are scalding hot. As is common in busy Chinese restaurants, we shared a table with two other parties, and got to ogle their food before ours arrived. The soup dumplings (8 for $4.95) did not fail to impress, as a bit of gentle pressure from the teeth resulted in a gush of flavorful broth from the dumpling.
For good measure, we later tried the midtown branch of Joe's Shanghai. Alas, the prices were higher and the food not as good. I was disappointed to find the dumplings rather tepid in temperature. However, as you might expect, the restaurant was decorated much more tastefully (the neon lights were gone) and we had a table to ourselves.
Next up, the Flushing location.
Though I am not a member, the Cornell Club is a familiar place to me because the marching band traditionally gets free dinner and showers here after the Columbia game. From what I could recall, the food was mediocre, but heck, after a long day of playing and parading down 5th Avenue, I wasn't about to complain.
On the other hand, Rhea is a current member, so she invited me to lunch at the Cayuga Room. The decor is sort of reminiscent of Banfi's (before the remodeling into Taverna Banfi), with lots of wood, paintings of scenes from Ithaca, and understated old-school elegance. The menu also seemed fairly conservative, with nothing that particularly caught my eye, however buried under the section "Dieter's Corner" was a $28 prix fixe menu. For the life of me, I can't understand why restaurants place calorie counts on menus; it was entirely distracting and the interspersed numbers made the menu difficult to read. Still, this was a pretty good deal for the location, so I opted for the shrimp gazpacho, salmon with saffron orzo, and chef's dessert trio (dark chocolate bark, berry shooter and whole almonds). The food was well-executed, a vast improvement from band banquets, and I particularly liked the dessert combination as a light cap to the meal. Rhea also had a coupon for a free bottle of wine, so we nursed that through the meal. Somehow, we managed to be the first guests to arrive and the last to leave, much to the chagrin of the waitstaff.
In a sign of how far we've come since graduation, Viki, Judy and I got together for afternoon tea on the Upper East Side. Alice's Tea Cup is a whimsical tea shop modeled after Alice in Wonderland, with all manner of butterflies, bright colors and curlicue writing on the walls. They serve scones with cream and preserves, in the classic English fashion, along with soup and sandwich options. But the true star of the show is the tea list, with over 100 varieties of tea and herbal infusions. I opted for the Trafalgar Square blend, which was purported to taste like a peppermint patty. As I sipped my tea, pinky extended, I felt ready to take on tea with the Queen next summer in London.
Clearly, karaoke the weekend before in Chicago wasn't enough, so when Jie suggested hitting a karaoke place in the city, I said, "I'll bring my diva and my throat lozenges." After an excellent squid ink pasta at Da Rosina, we trekked over to Japanese-run Karaoke Duet 48, where they were holding a small closet-sized room for us. Like the previous place, this karaoke joint had lots of quirky charm, with "My Neighbor Totoro" playing in the background and binders of Chinese and Japanese song titles. I thought the song selection last weekend was quite good, but this place offered even more esoteric options. Namely, I was really excited to see:
- Wicked, "Popular"
- High School Musical, "Breaking Free"
- A Chorus Line, "One"
- Estelle ft Kanye West, "American Boy"
- Puccini, "Nessun Dorma"
Expenditures: $165.50
Muchos gracias to everyone who bought me dinner and let me crash on their couch :P
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Office, Cornell edition
Much hullabaloo has been made over "that episode of the Office with tons of Cornell references," so I finally sat down to watch it (even though it means I'm definitely watching the series out of order). All in all, I was fairly impressed with the depth of Dwight's Cornell knowledge; there's no way I would have been able to name Cornell's 7th and 8th presidents in an interview. He also referenced the current quarterback (Nathan Ford) and Comstock Hall (a building I've never been in). But the one thing that particularly tickled me was this:
That's right, there are Wegman's products in the background! Say what you will about my terrible skills of observation, but those colors flashed on the screen and I immediately recognized them.
If you haven't seen it yet, the episode is titled "Employee Transfer" and will be available on Hulu for approximately two more weeks.
That's right, there are Wegman's products in the background! Say what you will about my terrible skills of observation, but those colors flashed on the screen and I immediately recognized them.
If you haven't seen it yet, the episode is titled "Employee Transfer" and will be available on Hulu for approximately two more weeks.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Homecoming 2008
It’s been a whole two months since I was last in Ithaca, so clearly that meant I needed to make a trip back for homecoming. Besides, the last one was a time and a half, and how could I pass up hanging out with my bff Raivo this weekend?? Some random thoughts and happenings:
1) To this day, I have yet to find a place with better burritos than Statler Terrace, and since they only open on weekdays during lunch, it's pretty darn inaccessible for me. So, as soon as I was back on campus, I made a mad dash for Terrace and slid into the wrap line just 5 minutes before they were closing. Even better, they had just enough pulled pork left for one last burrito! I sat down with my wrap in one hand and a New York Times in the other, relaxing in the confines of a college campus. It was pretty much a picturesque scene from SWPL. Promptly afterwards, I was asked if I was interested in attending church or bible study. Ah, some things never change.
2) Oktoberfest celebrations were happening in Trillium on Friday afternoon, sponsored by the European Club and Grad Students Association. They were passing out free knockwurst, sauerkraut and chips, blasting German music, and selling $1-2 Oktoberfest beers. Naturally, the scene was quite raucous, and I had to pinch myself a couple times when I realized people were getting smashed on campus in the middle of the day. Why didn't I crash more grad events back in the day?
3) As for the homecoming game itself, I was steeling myself for disappointment from the start. Not to be pessimistic, but Yale was the team that routed us 51-12 last year after all. Shockingly, we won the game, albeit not by much (17-14). What can I say, I guess crazier things have happened, eh?
1) To this day, I have yet to find a place with better burritos than Statler Terrace, and since they only open on weekdays during lunch, it's pretty darn inaccessible for me. So, as soon as I was back on campus, I made a mad dash for Terrace and slid into the wrap line just 5 minutes before they were closing. Even better, they had just enough pulled pork left for one last burrito! I sat down with my wrap in one hand and a New York Times in the other, relaxing in the confines of a college campus. It was pretty much a picturesque scene from SWPL. Promptly afterwards, I was asked if I was interested in attending church or bible study. Ah, some things never change.
2) Oktoberfest celebrations were happening in Trillium on Friday afternoon, sponsored by the European Club and Grad Students Association. They were passing out free knockwurst, sauerkraut and chips, blasting German music, and selling $1-2 Oktoberfest beers. Naturally, the scene was quite raucous, and I had to pinch myself a couple times when I realized people were getting smashed on campus in the middle of the day. Why didn't I crash more grad events back in the day?
3) As for the homecoming game itself, I was steeling myself for disappointment from the start. Not to be pessimistic, but Yale was the team that routed us 51-12 last year after all. Shockingly, we won the game, albeit not by much (17-14). What can I say, I guess crazier things have happened, eh?
4) I am always hesitant to try new restaurants in Ithaca because there are so many old favorites and so little time. But since I was in town in July, and satiated my Maxie’s craving then, I figured I could be adventurous for once. So, Saturday night, I found myself at the Ithaca Ale House…and I give it two thumbs up! The menu at its core is bar food, but includes enough special touches that it's semi-classy and exciting. I convinced Viki and Oliver to order the eggplant fries as an appetizer and they were delicious (didn't taste like eggplant at all), and came with a cool curry-based sauce. We also figured with 6 of us, it wouldn't hurt to order another appetizer, so Amanda suggested the guacamole & brie. I was expecting a huge bowl of dip with chips or bread around it, but instead we were served a platter of bread, with guacamole, brie and red pepper spread on top of each piece. For dinner, I ordered the Bastard burger (pepper crust, Bastard Ale mustard, onion rings)...and so did Oliver and Alec. They also had some interesting stuff on the dessert menu (fried Oreos!), but we were way too full.
5) Speaking of fullness, I never made it to Hot Truck. We debated for about 10 minutes, but Viki decided she was too full/it was raining too hard/the hill was too much to handle at 1 am, so we didn't go. This is a bit of a shame because I'm most likely going to visit Ithaca during summers in the future, when Hot Truck is closed, so I'm pretty much never getting a PMP again. :(
6) On the other hand, I did make it to Dairy Bar, because after getting breakfast at CTB (San Diego Bagel on California bagel, the kind with granola on it), we had some time to kill before the tailgate. So, Viki, Oliver and I went to get ice cream at 11 am. (<--fat kids!) I was a bit disappointed at the lack of seasonal flavors (no Clocktower Pumpkin, no Apple Pie) but the Coconutty Spring Thaw and Bavarian Raspberry Fudge were really good. Plus, I discovered that you could ask for two flavors on a "small" cone. What a revelation!
7) I'm still not over the fact that Pataflafla drinks now; there's definitely some cognitive dissonance going on in my mind. And speaking of drinking, since the '08ers have graduated, the drumline has definitey gotten drunker/less dorky. I was hanging out with Shannon, my new favorite freshman bells player, who apparently got so drunk last weekend that they invoked medical amnesty on him. Meanwhile, Matt & Co were talking about skipping the band party to play Dungeons & Dragons instead. Um, yeah.
8) There's another chimesmaster-bandie! I met her at the band party, and we talked about all the chimesmaster-bandies of years past (ARE '03, GVJ '99, a couple guys from the '50s). Unfortunately, she's missing the chimesmaster road trip to NYC for the band trip to Montreal. I am seriously considering skipping homecoming next fall to attend Chimes Advisory Council instead. They're always scheduled two weeks apart, so I can't really afford to do both. I did make it to the clocktower to get some concerts in (one with RCF and the other with WAK). Secretly, I am relieved that the concerts I crashed were played by chimesmasters that I know, but I guess in another year or two, they'll all be fresh faces to me. Sigh.
9) Ithaca Apple Festival was also a good time despite the pouring rain. You could find all manner of apples and apple products, from apple butter to apple fry bread, and there were plenty of non-apple items as well. After hearing Megan rave about her Cuban sandwich on Friday, I was tempted to get one too, but then decided I should hold out for one in Pilsen. I did get apple cider doughnuts and a piece of smoked apple pie with sharp NY cheddar, pretty much the craziest thing I could find. Tomas et al were appalled at the idea of cheese on apple pie, but seriously, is the idea of fruit and cheese that crazy? Or the combination of sweet and salty?? I couldn't convince them that apple and cheddar is not that weird. There was also a booth with jams, jellies and fruit butters, similar to the one at the Ithaca Farmer's Market, but with 16 or so flavors. Viki and I both bought a container of cranberry-horseradish jam, which was intriguing because it had the taste and smell of horseradish, but NOT the spicy sting, which apparently goes away during cooking. So, it seems that all the horseradish products I've previously eaten have been cold-processed.
10) We made a trip to Wegman's because Viki wanted to buy bread, and of course, who doesn't want to shop in the best grocery store EVER? Over the last year, I've gradually used up all my Wegman's brand products, and now only have a bit of Wegman's vanilla extract and baking powder left. So, I decided I needed to buy a non-liquid, non-perishable Wegman's item, and settled on a container of pepper. I can't tell you how exciting it is to look in my cupboard and see Wegman's, to remind me of the good ol' days.
11) Returning to Chicago, I wasn't nearly as depressed as I was compared to last year. In some sense, I've gotten used to the idea that there are people I will not see more than once or twice a year, and perhaps the relationship will fade a bit, but when we are together, those bonds are rekindled instantaneously, like sea monkeys in water. Moreover, I've put down roots here, and being in Ithaca would be a step backwards. And who knows, maybe someday we'll find ourselves in the same place again (cough, MCLU 2009?).
And so concludes my last trip to Ithaca for probably a very long time. So long, and thanks for all the fish. :)
11) Returning to Chicago, I wasn't nearly as depressed as I was compared to last year. In some sense, I've gotten used to the idea that there are people I will not see more than once or twice a year, and perhaps the relationship will fade a bit, but when we are together, those bonds are rekindled instantaneously, like sea monkeys in water. Moreover, I've put down roots here, and being in Ithaca would be a step backwards. And who knows, maybe someday we'll find ourselves in the same place again (cough, MCLU 2009?).
And so concludes my last trip to Ithaca for probably a very long time. So long, and thanks for all the fish. :)
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Chicago for Foodies
Forget the Sears Tower and Millenium Park, here's what I did with Megan on her first visit to Chicago:
Plates:
The ones that got away (the restaurant industry, it's volatile!):
People (characters we met around town):
Places:
Sometimes I forget how spread out Chicago really is, but this weekend, we definitely explored large swaths of the city from top to bottom. Some of the traveling was due to necessity; we drove out to the suburbs and hiked ~6 miles of the Des Plaines River trail. On other occasions, we traveled stupidly far distances...all for the sake of getting food. I have no regrets.
Eating aside, we did manage to see Jersey Boys ($25 front-row rush tickets), wander through the Art Institute during Looptopia, go on a cruise on Lake Michigan for Ana's birthday, and find a few letterboxes. Plus, I discovered the Seminary Co-op bookstore in Hyde Park, which might be my new favorite bookstore. It's located in the basement of the Chicago Theological Seminary, and every square inch of its labyrinthine shelves, from the floor to the ceiling, is jam-packed with esoteric titles. Though my inner bibliophile was spasming, I restrained myself and simply picked up a copy of "A Very Short Introduction to Quantum Theory." Admittedly, this is completely useless for me, but maybe I'll be able to pick up enough key phrases that I can front knowing something about quantum mechanics.
Plates:
- Deep-dish pizza from Art of Pizza
- Mujver (zucchini pancake) and lahmacun (thin Turkish pizza) from Nazarlik
- Pineapple-rhubarb french toast, berry and banana cheesecake pancakes, and lemon ricotta pancakes from Bongo Room
- Granola from Milk & Honey Cafe
- Carne asada tacos and horchata (cinnamon rice drink) from La Pasadita
- Frozen kefir (uber trendy yogurt-like product) from Starfruit
- Family style Mediterranean at Cedar's
- Swedish pancakes with lingonberries from Ann Sather's (hotelie-run!)
- Chicago hot dog and duck-fat fries from Hot Doug's (I can('t) believe we waited 45 minutes for this...the line was out the door and wrapped around the building.)
- Banh mi (Vietnamese sub) and coconut sticky rice & black-eyed peas from Ba Le
- Ginger-raisin & banana-chocolate pannenkoeken (dutch pancakes) from Pannenkoeken Cafe
- Ghormeh sabzi (beef stew with green herbs) and fesenjan with eggplant (walnut-pomegranate sauce) from Masouleh
- Borek (pastry filled with meat) from Big Buns and Pita
- Pork bun, sesame ball, and red bean paste mooncake from Chiu Quon Bakery
The ones that got away (the restaurant industry, it's volatile!):
- Curry puff from Thai Grocery (closed in mid-April)
- Jibarito (plantain sandwich) from Cafe Salamera (closed in February)
- Sweet potato doughnuts with cinnamon sabayon, poached pear, and pumpkin pepitas from Powerhouse (fell victim to limited stomach capacity)
People (characters we met around town):
- Quintessential Wrigleyville: outside Wrigley Field, we ran into a drunk guy who was trying to walk with a sweatshirt around his ankles and then planted his nose on the ground. Twice.
- Classic Wicker Park: hipster guy with an iPod jogging while wearing a skin-tight Strand tee
- At Mojo Spa, the guy behind the counter thought Megan and I were international relations majors (an asian kid and a white kid hanging out!). Next, he guessed that we were engineers. I'm not sure what that says about my appearance.
- While waiting in line for Jersey Boys tickets at 8:45 am, we made friends with the couple behind us, Cornel and Trudy (?). The latter was giving us lots of advice: "I recommend staying away from San Francisco...there are too many gay men there."
- Random guy in head-to-toe black leather who shared a cab with us: "Yeah, I just got my own place, but it won't be just me for long...my brother's turning 18 and getting out of foster care."
Places:
Sometimes I forget how spread out Chicago really is, but this weekend, we definitely explored large swaths of the city from top to bottom. Some of the traveling was due to necessity; we drove out to the suburbs and hiked ~6 miles of the Des Plaines River trail. On other occasions, we traveled stupidly far distances...all for the sake of getting food. I have no regrets.
Eating aside, we did manage to see Jersey Boys ($25 front-row rush tickets), wander through the Art Institute during Looptopia, go on a cruise on Lake Michigan for Ana's birthday, and find a few letterboxes. Plus, I discovered the Seminary Co-op bookstore in Hyde Park, which might be my new favorite bookstore. It's located in the basement of the Chicago Theological Seminary, and every square inch of its labyrinthine shelves, from the floor to the ceiling, is jam-packed with esoteric titles. Though my inner bibliophile was spasming, I restrained myself and simply picked up a copy of "A Very Short Introduction to Quantum Theory." Admittedly, this is completely useless for me, but maybe I'll be able to pick up enough key phrases that I can front knowing something about quantum mechanics.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Pi/Dragon/St. Patrick's Day
(with apologies to Don McLean)
Pi, pi, what's the value of pi?
Starts 3 . 1 4 1 5 9
Them good ol' boys gave it a try
But the decimal never dies, the decimal never dies...
Pi, pi, what's the value of pi?
Starts 3 . 1 4 1 5 9
Them good ol' boys gave it a try
But the decimal never dies, the decimal never dies...
It's March 14th, and we all know what that means - time to celebrate Pi Day! Much like Talk Like A Pirate Day or Towel Day, Pi Day is part of that pantheon of holidays that, well, take a special someone to appreciate.
At 1:59 pm sharp, Phil brought in a splendiferous assortment of pi(e)s: peach, apple, cherry and pumpkin. Considering there were only about a dozen AEs, it was quite a lot of pie to go around. (Note: actual pies consumed differed a bit from the ones displayed above.) Next year, I think we should have a pie with the pi symbol on it, and a second pi with the digits of e on it (2.71828...) so that all together, we have a complete pie.
Meanwhile, spring break has kicked off at Cornell, which means it's time for the annual architecture bacchanal, otherwise known as Dragon Day. Since I never managed to go anywhere exciting for spring break, I was almost always in town to watch the Dragon Day parade and pyre. So, those of us who hadn't jetted to Cancun were treated to the sight of sleep-deprived, festively costumed archies burning an elaborate dragon in the middle of the Arts Quad. As I recall, the weather varied wildly from cold rain to warmth & clear skies to thick snow last year. And it appears that the engineers finally got their act together and constructed a competing phoenix this year.
This morning, as I was waiting in the dentist's office, Coldplay's "Clocks" began playing on the radio. All of the sudden, I was flooded with memories of playing Clocks on chimes, hearing Clocks on marimba, jogging around campus as Clocks emanated from the clocktower as the sun set. It has been almost a year now since I last chimed regularly; would I still be able to play the (notoriously difficult) piece today? Would I be able to sprint up the 9 flights of stairs like I used to? And forget chiming, it's been years since I stopped playing piano regularly, and even longer since I dropped violin. What was the point of all those lessons again? It was a sobering reminder of the passage of time.
Anyway, back to the present. Dragon Day has always coincided with the weekend of St. Patrick's Day, and curious about a possible linkage, I sat down to investigate the origins of the former. As it turns out, Dragon Day began as a celebration of Architecture School pride by Willard Straight, and he chose St. Patrick's Day, who legendarily drove the serpents out of Ireland. Ergo, the burning of our dragon every year actually has some throwbacks to Catholicism. Who would've thought?
Chicago historically has had a large Irish Catholic population, though I suppose many other cities also claim to be Irish-friendly, since it's much more in vogue than being say, Iranian-friendly. However, unlike many other cities, we have perfected the art of dyeing our river shamrock green for St. Patrick's Day. The dye solution has been tested to be eco-friendly, but it looks like the exact composition is a city secret. The fountains at Daley Plaza, which were spouting orange back in Oct, are now bubbling green as well.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Lawn Guy Land & LoHo
The theme of the weekend was Decadence.
One of the great things about living at 209 was that my flatmates shared the same joie de vivre for food. Sure, lots of people say they like to eat, but with us, it was more like we lived to eat. (See: driving an hour to Binghamton just to get pumpkin pancakes at IHOP.) Megan has been reading 1001 Things to Eat Before You Diet, so armed with recommendations from that, we descended upon Long Island and the Lower East Side.
Long Island is renowned for its pizza and bagels, so our first stop was at a pizza place listed in the book. It wasn't the best pizza I've ever had (that honor goes to fried calamari pizza from Jersey), but my cheese slice, crisp and eaten folded in half, was still a refreshing change of pace from the deep-dish pervasive in Chicago eateries. Later that night, we grabbed ice cream from Magic Fountain in Mattituck. The guy behind the counter loved us, and kept offering more samples before we finally committed to carrot cake, cranberry, gingerbread and apple pie.
At this point, we were disgustingly full, but that didn't stop us from driving to the American Legion bar...to hang out with Megan's dad. See, Megan's dad was (is) definitely quite the popular guy back in his day, and just because he's not in his 20s any more doesn't mean he doesn't know how to have a good time, no sirree. In the span of an hour that afternoon, he was hopping to about 3 holiday parties. Sheesh, I don't think I've ever had 3 competing parties to attend. Megan is understandably not so keen on hearing her dad's tales of bar brawls with the boys, but hey, Tommy's not going to let a wife and kids get him down, right?
At the American Legion, we were greeted by Megan's dad, and his chums at the bar were thrilled to meet Tommy's daughter and Tom's daughter's friend (me). Seriously, if we'd wanted to get schwasted for free, we could have easily gotten free drinks from everyone at the bar. Many back thumps and group hugs later, we extricated ourselves from the bunch of rowdy 40-year-olds. It's funny to think we were basically at a frat party, except with people who have kids our age. (Fear not, T-Fizz opted to walk home instead of drive.)
For the rest of the weekend, we explored the Lower East Side, which is filled with neat ethnic eateries, tenements, and hipsters. (All the better for avoiding tourist hordes in midtown Manhattan.) The area loosely encompasses everything from Chinatown and Little Italy to the East Village. The Lower East Side Tenement Museum offers tours of the neighborhood, so we stopped by for a crash course and to see an old tenement. Historically, the area began as a center for German and Irish immigrants, with more Irish than the city of Dublin in the 19th century. Then, as these immigrants became wealthier, they moved out and were replaced by Italians and Eastern Europeans. In turn, these populations have largely been supplanted by Chinese immigrants, and today, the historic heart of Little Italy is filled with bustling Chinese shops. It's funny to think that perhaps a century from now Chinatown will be gone, and will be replaced with Little Ghana, or something to that effect. Will Chinese food stop being cheaply ubiquitous, and become more upper-crust, like Italian cuisine?
Though most of the Jews have since moved away, there are still a number of historic Jewish establishments in the area. In short order, I tried hard salami and roast beef at Katz's Deli (there was a sign indicating "This is where Harry met Sally."), a sweet potato knish from Yonah Schimmel's (simultaneously rich & savory yet light), chocolate babka, fruity rugelach, halvah (mm, sesame-flavored chalk), a full-sour pickle (pickled string beans & celery, anyone?), a chestnut donut (technically not Jewish but still amazing), a bialy from Kossar's (similar to a bagel, but not boiled), and a bagel with lox, capers, red onion and tomato from Russ & Daughters ($8.50 and 45 min in line later, it was worth every cent/min). I found myself humming "Hava Nagila," as shop workers shouted Yiddish over the telephone. My stomach was working at ludicrous speed.
The highlight of the trip came when we randomly strolled into a Tibetan restaurant for dinner. Dinner was good, albeit not terribly exciting, but on a lark, we ordered dessert and this turned out to be the best thing since sliced bread. Tsampa is a traditional Tibetan staple, made of ground roasted barley, somewhat similar to rice pudding. This version came flavored with honey and dried cranberries, and it was LIFE. With the hope of recreating the dish at home, I looked up tsampa recipes, but they require esoteric ingredients like yak butter. Bummer.
I can't wait to do it again in Boston.
One of the great things about living at 209 was that my flatmates shared the same joie de vivre for food. Sure, lots of people say they like to eat, but with us, it was more like we lived to eat. (See: driving an hour to Binghamton just to get pumpkin pancakes at IHOP.) Megan has been reading 1001 Things to Eat Before You Diet, so armed with recommendations from that, we descended upon Long Island and the Lower East Side.
Long Island is renowned for its pizza and bagels, so our first stop was at a pizza place listed in the book. It wasn't the best pizza I've ever had (that honor goes to fried calamari pizza from Jersey), but my cheese slice, crisp and eaten folded in half, was still a refreshing change of pace from the deep-dish pervasive in Chicago eateries. Later that night, we grabbed ice cream from Magic Fountain in Mattituck. The guy behind the counter loved us, and kept offering more samples before we finally committed to carrot cake, cranberry, gingerbread and apple pie.
At this point, we were disgustingly full, but that didn't stop us from driving to the American Legion bar...to hang out with Megan's dad. See, Megan's dad was (is) definitely quite the popular guy back in his day, and just because he's not in his 20s any more doesn't mean he doesn't know how to have a good time, no sirree. In the span of an hour that afternoon, he was hopping to about 3 holiday parties. Sheesh, I don't think I've ever had 3 competing parties to attend. Megan is understandably not so keen on hearing her dad's tales of bar brawls with the boys, but hey, Tommy's not going to let a wife and kids get him down, right?
At the American Legion, we were greeted by Megan's dad, and his chums at the bar were thrilled to meet Tommy's daughter and Tom's daughter's friend (me). Seriously, if we'd wanted to get schwasted for free, we could have easily gotten free drinks from everyone at the bar. Many back thumps and group hugs later, we extricated ourselves from the bunch of rowdy 40-year-olds. It's funny to think we were basically at a frat party, except with people who have kids our age. (Fear not, T-Fizz opted to walk home instead of drive.)
For the rest of the weekend, we explored the Lower East Side, which is filled with neat ethnic eateries, tenements, and hipsters. (All the better for avoiding tourist hordes in midtown Manhattan.) The area loosely encompasses everything from Chinatown and Little Italy to the East Village. The Lower East Side Tenement Museum offers tours of the neighborhood, so we stopped by for a crash course and to see an old tenement. Historically, the area began as a center for German and Irish immigrants, with more Irish than the city of Dublin in the 19th century. Then, as these immigrants became wealthier, they moved out and were replaced by Italians and Eastern Europeans. In turn, these populations have largely been supplanted by Chinese immigrants, and today, the historic heart of Little Italy is filled with bustling Chinese shops. It's funny to think that perhaps a century from now Chinatown will be gone, and will be replaced with Little Ghana, or something to that effect. Will Chinese food stop being cheaply ubiquitous, and become more upper-crust, like Italian cuisine?
Though most of the Jews have since moved away, there are still a number of historic Jewish establishments in the area. In short order, I tried hard salami and roast beef at Katz's Deli (there was a sign indicating "This is where Harry met Sally."), a sweet potato knish from Yonah Schimmel's (simultaneously rich & savory yet light), chocolate babka, fruity rugelach, halvah (mm, sesame-flavored chalk), a full-sour pickle (pickled string beans & celery, anyone?), a chestnut donut (technically not Jewish but still amazing), a bialy from Kossar's (similar to a bagel, but not boiled), and a bagel with lox, capers, red onion and tomato from Russ & Daughters ($8.50 and 45 min in line later, it was worth every cent/min). I found myself humming "Hava Nagila," as shop workers shouted Yiddish over the telephone. My stomach was working at ludicrous speed.
The highlight of the trip came when we randomly strolled into a Tibetan restaurant for dinner. Dinner was good, albeit not terribly exciting, but on a lark, we ordered dessert and this turned out to be the best thing since sliced bread. Tsampa is a traditional Tibetan staple, made of ground roasted barley, somewhat similar to rice pudding. This version came flavored with honey and dried cranberries, and it was LIFE. With the hope of recreating the dish at home, I looked up tsampa recipes, but they require esoteric ingredients like yak butter. Bummer.
I can't wait to do it again in Boston.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Road Trip to IOWA
Last weekend, Katherine and I decided to take a road trip to Iowa to visit Warren, since he took the time to visit Chicago a couple times over the summer. Besides, doesn't everyone aspire to travel to Iowa one day? Right.
As we drove to Cedar Rapids, we passed a Hummer dealership (there were actually very few non-American cars on the road) and the world's largest truck stop. Seriously, we're talking about a big mother-trucker, 2 1/2 times the size of Disneyland. I started to worry about the fact that this state has a caucus, and that it matters. Is Iowa a representative slice of the country, a swing state? I've been living in blue areas for so long that I can't remember what America's "heartland" is like.
Cedar Rapids is an industrial town in eastern Iowa, home to a number of manufacturing plants, agricultural warehouses, and a Super Walmart and a Super Target (whoa!). The town slogan is "the City of 5 Seasons," where the 5th season is the time you spend appreciating the other four. (No joke.) Outside of Cedar Rapids, the town is also popularly known as Cedar Crapids, or the City of 5 Smells. After driving past the Quaker Oats factory and through Warren's corn processing plant, I have now smelled two of the five smells, and hope to never experience the other three. Despite the questionable odor, driving around the corn processing plant was kind of neat. Have you ever wondered where high fructose corn syrup comes from? Glucose? Maltodextrin? All the ingredients in tiny print that go into every processed food you buy, well they start percolating right here.
For the most part though, the town had all the chain restaurants and shopping malls you could want, the usual assemblage of IHOPs, Applebees' and Olive Gardens. Then there were local oddities, like the Kum & Go gas stations and Culver's, which featured "frozen custard butterburgers." Ironically, the latter was located next to an emergency healthcare clinic. For dinner, I decided to veto going to Pei's Mandarin, advertising the "best oriental food in east Iowa," and opted for a Mexican place instead.
Speaking of Asians, we were browsing the Wikipedia article on Cedar Rapids and came across the demographics section. The town's population includes 0.06% people of Asian descent, so with a population of around 120,000, this comes out to...72 Asians. That would mean my presence in Cedar Rapids handily increased the Asian population by over 1%.
Since the Wikipedia article was sadly devoid of appealing attractions in Cedar Rapids (Czech & Slovak Museum, anyone?), I jokingly suggested that we go to the Planet X Fun Center. After all, how can you possibly go wrong with a place that has space bikes, bowlingo, and laser tag? The answer is: many, many ways. Perhaps this is why beer buckets were on sale, with 5 beers for $10. After surveying the turtle-slow bumper cars and the light-up alien whacking game with half of its lights burnt out, we decided to spring for a round of mini-golf. The course was actually fairly difficult, but I miraculously came away with 3 hole-in-ones and won by one point!
Later that night, we drove to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, to meet up with Andrew, Warren's new boyfriend. Andrew was super nice, and also super tall. At 6'9", he towered over my 5'1" self, and we bonded over how it was difficult for both of us to find clothing that fit. In the meantime, Iowa City was much cuter than Cedar Rapids, with a nice pedestrian mall, ample bars, and a Pita Pit! I never frequented Pita Pit much as an undergrad, but it was still refreshing to see one of the late night food joints (DP Dough, Wings Over) you typically see in college towns. Unfortunately, the gay bar was kind of dead on this particular night, so we dropped into another bar, packed with screaming sorostitutes, frat boys, and girls wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and mini-skirts. Even my jello shot could not stave off my irritation with this bar; this is why I never went to anything but Stella's while at Cornell. And, I don't know if I've aged that much in the last 5 months, but somehow everyone seemed to look really young. Maybe this is one more step along the road to becoming an old fogey.
Back at Andrew's house, his housemate Marta had offered to let us sleep in her bed, since she was in Madison for the weekend. I never thought I'd be sleeping in the bed of the lesbian roommate of the boyfriend of my friend's gay friend in Iowa. Also, Marta had a Moosewood cookbook on her bookshelf, which meant my respect for her automatically doubled.
The drive back was rather a bitch. Freezing rain had been coming down all weekend, and the roads were pretty icy. I stopped for gas at a BP, which had a wretched-looking church next door, with a sign that read, "No Jesus, no peace. Know Jesus, know peace." After we properly mocked the church and its sign, I pulled away and began to turn onto the highway on-ramp. Except I kept turning, and in a slow skid, the rear end of my car fishtailed 180 degrees. It was my first major skid, and I felt oddly calm during the experience, as though I were looking down on the scene from afar. Luckily, the cars around us had stopped to stare blankly at us, and no one got hit. And hey, it wouldn't be a road trip without a near-death experience to cap it off, right?
As we drove to Cedar Rapids, we passed a Hummer dealership (there were actually very few non-American cars on the road) and the world's largest truck stop. Seriously, we're talking about a big mother-trucker, 2 1/2 times the size of Disneyland. I started to worry about the fact that this state has a caucus, and that it matters. Is Iowa a representative slice of the country, a swing state? I've been living in blue areas for so long that I can't remember what America's "heartland" is like.
Cedar Rapids is an industrial town in eastern Iowa, home to a number of manufacturing plants, agricultural warehouses, and a Super Walmart and a Super Target (whoa!). The town slogan is "the City of 5 Seasons," where the 5th season is the time you spend appreciating the other four. (No joke.) Outside of Cedar Rapids, the town is also popularly known as Cedar Crapids, or the City of 5 Smells. After driving past the Quaker Oats factory and through Warren's corn processing plant, I have now smelled two of the five smells, and hope to never experience the other three. Despite the questionable odor, driving around the corn processing plant was kind of neat. Have you ever wondered where high fructose corn syrup comes from? Glucose? Maltodextrin? All the ingredients in tiny print that go into every processed food you buy, well they start percolating right here.
For the most part though, the town had all the chain restaurants and shopping malls you could want, the usual assemblage of IHOPs, Applebees' and Olive Gardens. Then there were local oddities, like the Kum & Go gas stations and Culver's, which featured "frozen custard butterburgers." Ironically, the latter was located next to an emergency healthcare clinic. For dinner, I decided to veto going to Pei's Mandarin, advertising the "best oriental food in east Iowa," and opted for a Mexican place instead.
Speaking of Asians, we were browsing the Wikipedia article on Cedar Rapids and came across the demographics section. The town's population includes 0.06% people of Asian descent, so with a population of around 120,000, this comes out to...72 Asians. That would mean my presence in Cedar Rapids handily increased the Asian population by over 1%.
Since the Wikipedia article was sadly devoid of appealing attractions in Cedar Rapids (Czech & Slovak Museum, anyone?), I jokingly suggested that we go to the Planet X Fun Center. After all, how can you possibly go wrong with a place that has space bikes, bowlingo, and laser tag? The answer is: many, many ways. Perhaps this is why beer buckets were on sale, with 5 beers for $10. After surveying the turtle-slow bumper cars and the light-up alien whacking game with half of its lights burnt out, we decided to spring for a round of mini-golf. The course was actually fairly difficult, but I miraculously came away with 3 hole-in-ones and won by one point!
Later that night, we drove to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, to meet up with Andrew, Warren's new boyfriend. Andrew was super nice, and also super tall. At 6'9", he towered over my 5'1" self, and we bonded over how it was difficult for both of us to find clothing that fit. In the meantime, Iowa City was much cuter than Cedar Rapids, with a nice pedestrian mall, ample bars, and a Pita Pit! I never frequented Pita Pit much as an undergrad, but it was still refreshing to see one of the late night food joints (DP Dough, Wings Over) you typically see in college towns. Unfortunately, the gay bar was kind of dead on this particular night, so we dropped into another bar, packed with screaming sorostitutes, frat boys, and girls wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and mini-skirts. Even my jello shot could not stave off my irritation with this bar; this is why I never went to anything but Stella's while at Cornell. And, I don't know if I've aged that much in the last 5 months, but somehow everyone seemed to look really young. Maybe this is one more step along the road to becoming an old fogey.
Back at Andrew's house, his housemate Marta had offered to let us sleep in her bed, since she was in Madison for the weekend. I never thought I'd be sleeping in the bed of the lesbian roommate of the boyfriend of my friend's gay friend in Iowa. Also, Marta had a Moosewood cookbook on her bookshelf, which meant my respect for her automatically doubled.
The drive back was rather a bitch. Freezing rain had been coming down all weekend, and the roads were pretty icy. I stopped for gas at a BP, which had a wretched-looking church next door, with a sign that read, "No Jesus, no peace. Know Jesus, know peace." After we properly mocked the church and its sign, I pulled away and began to turn onto the highway on-ramp. Except I kept turning, and in a slow skid, the rear end of my car fishtailed 180 degrees. It was my first major skid, and I felt oddly calm during the experience, as though I were looking down on the scene from afar. Luckily, the cars around us had stopped to stare blankly at us, and no one got hit. And hey, it wouldn't be a road trip without a near-death experience to cap it off, right?
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Return to Ithaca
There's nothing quite like walking into the bandroom and being greeted by freshmen with "Oh, you're THE legendary Crystal! We're so honored to be able to play with you!"
Or, being greeted by Dan with "So, when you said you were coming to town, I decided to write you a fanfare, a Fanfare for Crystal! Alas, I didn't quite finish it in time, but the first few bars are really cool...you're going to need a good subwoofer to listen to this."
I trekked back to Cornell for homecoming last weekend, and it was a whirlwind experience. Cornell is not a big football school at all, but as a former bandie, the weekend still holds significance as a period for retrospection. Alums come back to visit, steal your instrument to play "Pinball Wizard," and relive their hedonistic college days by drinking your alcohol. You try not to feel too disgruntled, with the promise that you too can come back in four years and be welcomed with open, band uniform-clad arms. This is a superior version of the circle of life, really.
It has been almost four months since I was last in Ithaca, a mere blip in time, but the changes are palpable. The Thurston bridge has reopened, and is strung with shockingly bright white LED lights. The parking lot between Bailey and Malott has been replaced by a flagstone plaza with oddly orange-y benchs and a overhang fountain on the southern end. Construction is beginning on a new building between Baker and Rockefeller. But wait, you say, there's no space for a building there. On the contrary, it looks like they're taking out a good chunk of the Baker lawn to put up this building. I mean, perhaps Clark is ugly and we should hide it behind another building, but still. Finally, I made a beeline to the clocktower as soon as I could, and was much dismayed to discover that my id card no longer works on the office door. For the last 3 years, the tower office was my one sure refuge on campus, always warm and open, filled with a frig, a couch, and a nice Mac. And now, that door is permanently closed to me.
Yet, despite the physical differences and the ever-present alarm that my time was limited, I was able to recapture some of that undergraduate zeitgeist, the animated intellectualism, the quirky vivacity that permeates Cornell and makes the abnormal normal. I sat in Stella's and discussed objects with non-integer dimension with Rhea, I hauled myself to the clocktower at 10:15 to chime the alma mater variations with Jen, I sang songs from "A Chorus Line" with Matt at 3 am, I watched a football game with 7 years worth of drumline members and still had the music to "Carry On My Wayward Son" memorized.
It was over in the blink of an eye, and I found myself scrambling at the end of Sat night, giving hasty goodbyes just 24 hours after long-awaited hellos. At 8 am the next morning, I jetted back to Chicago. It was cold and drizzling. I was in mourning.
I kept telling people I'd "see you later," but who knows when that will be? 6 months? A year? A decade?? Let's face it, this weekend was great because I found the familiarity of people and places I'd loved, but even a year from now, that might not be the case any more. People will graduate, move away, and move on with their lives. But at least for this one weekend, the magic was still there.
I realize I am extraordinarily lucky to have a job I love in a place I love. Catching up with the '007 crew, it's all too common to see people bored with their jobs, and worried about where their lives are going. When I flew away from Ithaca, at least I had something positive to come home to.
It still felt like I was ripping away a little piece of my heart.
Or, being greeted by Dan with "So, when you said you were coming to town, I decided to write you a fanfare, a Fanfare for Crystal! Alas, I didn't quite finish it in time, but the first few bars are really cool...you're going to need a good subwoofer to listen to this."
I trekked back to Cornell for homecoming last weekend, and it was a whirlwind experience. Cornell is not a big football school at all, but as a former bandie, the weekend still holds significance as a period for retrospection. Alums come back to visit, steal your instrument to play "Pinball Wizard," and relive their hedonistic college days by drinking your alcohol. You try not to feel too disgruntled, with the promise that you too can come back in four years and be welcomed with open, band uniform-clad arms. This is a superior version of the circle of life, really.
It has been almost four months since I was last in Ithaca, a mere blip in time, but the changes are palpable. The Thurston bridge has reopened, and is strung with shockingly bright white LED lights. The parking lot between Bailey and Malott has been replaced by a flagstone plaza with oddly orange-y benchs and a overhang fountain on the southern end. Construction is beginning on a new building between Baker and Rockefeller. But wait, you say, there's no space for a building there. On the contrary, it looks like they're taking out a good chunk of the Baker lawn to put up this building. I mean, perhaps Clark is ugly and we should hide it behind another building, but still. Finally, I made a beeline to the clocktower as soon as I could, and was much dismayed to discover that my id card no longer works on the office door. For the last 3 years, the tower office was my one sure refuge on campus, always warm and open, filled with a frig, a couch, and a nice Mac. And now, that door is permanently closed to me.
Yet, despite the physical differences and the ever-present alarm that my time was limited, I was able to recapture some of that undergraduate zeitgeist, the animated intellectualism, the quirky vivacity that permeates Cornell and makes the abnormal normal. I sat in Stella's and discussed objects with non-integer dimension with Rhea, I hauled myself to the clocktower at 10:15 to chime the alma mater variations with Jen, I sang songs from "A Chorus Line" with Matt at 3 am, I watched a football game with 7 years worth of drumline members and still had the music to "Carry On My Wayward Son" memorized.
It was over in the blink of an eye, and I found myself scrambling at the end of Sat night, giving hasty goodbyes just 24 hours after long-awaited hellos. At 8 am the next morning, I jetted back to Chicago. It was cold and drizzling. I was in mourning.
I kept telling people I'd "see you later," but who knows when that will be? 6 months? A year? A decade?? Let's face it, this weekend was great because I found the familiarity of people and places I'd loved, but even a year from now, that might not be the case any more. People will graduate, move away, and move on with their lives. But at least for this one weekend, the magic was still there.
I realize I am extraordinarily lucky to have a job I love in a place I love. Catching up with the '007 crew, it's all too common to see people bored with their jobs, and worried about where their lives are going. When I flew away from Ithaca, at least I had something positive to come home to.
It still felt like I was ripping away a little piece of my heart.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Bells Reunion, Chicago-style
Viki dropped into town last weekend, and since we both tend to have short attention spans for anything not involving food, I quickly drew up a list of 9 potential restaurants to hit up. We didn't get to all of them of course, but there's always next year...After nabbing her at the Damen El stop, we swung by La Pasadita (one of the three on that block) for $1.85 steak tacos and drumline gossip. It was a good primer for Homecoming weekend in three weeks.
The next day, I wanted to show off all the best (non-touristy) parts of Chicago, which obviously meant going back to Wicker Park. For the unfamiliar, the Wicker Park neighborhood is filled with all kinds of uber trendy shops and bars, and might be infested with hipsters who are more pretentious than you. (See definition #4 of "hipster" in Urban Dictionary.) No matter, even though I try to aspire towards hippie-dom, this is still my favorite part of town. We wandered through Mojo Spa and checked out their birthday cake soap (which looks and smells like vanilla cake), strolled through an artsy furniture store with statues made of rolled-up magazines, and looked at baby clothing. More specifically, there was a Google knock-off shirt that caught my eye, complete with rainbow "Googoo" logo and a search button labeled "I'm feeling silly." Just think, with that outfit, the kid is practically guaranteed to be spouting off Star Wars quotes! For the first time ever, all my maternal instincts were rising to the surface. Finally, I am in love with the Bongo Room, which had a ridiculously good brunch menu. It was one of those rare places where I wanted to try everything on the menu: lump crab eggs benedict, strawberry & mango french toast, chipotle black bean breakfast burrito...yum!
We met up with Matt & Co. for the rest of the afternoon and did the usual tour of Millenium Park and walked down the Magnificient Mile. To be honest, the Mag Mile, filled with lots of designer stores, interests me about as much as watching paint dry. Hence, Viki and I decided to take a detour to Trader Joe's, which was also conveniently giving out bruschetta samples. Then we rejoined the rest of the crew for dinner at a tapas place. I'd been there just 2 weeks before for Alex's birthday dinner, but I figured I had a rare opportunity to take 10 people to dinner, so tapas would be appropriate. Tip: when you're done drinking the sangria, try eating the leftover fruit. Rob started doing this as a joke, but it's actually surprisingly good (so long as you don't eat the orange peel).
While at dinner, I was kind of struck by the number of serious couples surrounding me. I guess I'm not used to being completely outnumbered by couples, plus George and Kerry had recently gotten engaged so that was big news. And I'd just heard that Kelly had gotten engaged. Also, while walking around the parks downtown, we ran into at least 3 wedding parties. And just a few nights before, Jen and I were discussing the price of engagement rings at dinner (general rule of thumb: spend 1-2 mos salary).
Maybe I should join that facebook group. The one titled "All my friends are getting married, and I'm just getting drunk." :p
The next day, I wanted to show off all the best (non-touristy) parts of Chicago, which obviously meant going back to Wicker Park. For the unfamiliar, the Wicker Park neighborhood is filled with all kinds of uber trendy shops and bars, and might be infested with hipsters who are more pretentious than you. (See definition #4 of "hipster" in Urban Dictionary.) No matter, even though I try to aspire towards hippie-dom, this is still my favorite part of town. We wandered through Mojo Spa and checked out their birthday cake soap (which looks and smells like vanilla cake), strolled through an artsy furniture store with statues made of rolled-up magazines, and looked at baby clothing. More specifically, there was a Google knock-off shirt that caught my eye, complete with rainbow "Googoo" logo and a search button labeled "I'm feeling silly." Just think, with that outfit, the kid is practically guaranteed to be spouting off Star Wars quotes! For the first time ever, all my maternal instincts were rising to the surface. Finally, I am in love with the Bongo Room, which had a ridiculously good brunch menu. It was one of those rare places where I wanted to try everything on the menu: lump crab eggs benedict, strawberry & mango french toast, chipotle black bean breakfast burrito...yum!
We met up with Matt & Co. for the rest of the afternoon and did the usual tour of Millenium Park and walked down the Magnificient Mile. To be honest, the Mag Mile, filled with lots of designer stores, interests me about as much as watching paint dry. Hence, Viki and I decided to take a detour to Trader Joe's, which was also conveniently giving out bruschetta samples. Then we rejoined the rest of the crew for dinner at a tapas place. I'd been there just 2 weeks before for Alex's birthday dinner, but I figured I had a rare opportunity to take 10 people to dinner, so tapas would be appropriate. Tip: when you're done drinking the sangria, try eating the leftover fruit. Rob started doing this as a joke, but it's actually surprisingly good (so long as you don't eat the orange peel).
While at dinner, I was kind of struck by the number of serious couples surrounding me. I guess I'm not used to being completely outnumbered by couples, plus George and Kerry had recently gotten engaged so that was big news. And I'd just heard that Kelly had gotten engaged. Also, while walking around the parks downtown, we ran into at least 3 wedding parties. And just a few nights before, Jen and I were discussing the price of engagement rings at dinner (general rule of thumb: spend 1-2 mos salary).
Maybe I should join that facebook group. The one titled "All my friends are getting married, and I'm just getting drunk." :p
Friday, August 17, 2007
By popular demand
Last Friday, the Feddies decided to take a trip to Ravinia to see Fiona Apple & Nickel Creek in concert. I had actually heard both of them beforehand, and had even seen Fiona in concert before. (Muchos gracias to MF & the Splashers for dragging me to Jones Beach last summer.) This time, I was a seasoned veteran, meaning Ana and I were the obnoxious ones singing along to the music while everyone else ignored us. The two bands also played together, and Fiona Apple backed by a bluegrass & strings band was surprisingly effective.
Music aside though, the Ravinia lawn is quite a time even if you are clueless about the artist. Similar to the Tanglewood lawn, people bring in booze and picnic baskets and set up shop all over the grass. We brought in lots of bread, cheese and dip (I made pesto the night before), 3 bottles of wine and a lot of beer. Pretty tame, really, as Luis was saying last time, there had been 2 more bottles of wine than there were people. By the end of the night, everyone was pleasantly festive (or maybe somewhat belligerent).
I’ll be back next weekend for Rufus Wainwright. The Rufus/Guster concert at Cornell a few years ago ranks as one of my favorite shows of all time, so hopefully this will live up to that.
Afterwards, we somehow landed at a U of Chicago house party. It was actually pretty happenin’, as in not where fun goes to die. So happening, that by the end of the night, Britton and I landed the unruly task of walking a not-walking Haley home. Have you ever been cab-rejected before?? I hailed two cabs and they slowed to pick us up, then drove off when they saw Haley and thought she was going to be sick. Finally, the third cab I hailed took pity on us and we managed to get her home. Thank god Britton was there to take charge, because I wouldn’t have known what to do, having never really dealt with drunk people before…Britton: “Well, I’d say welcome to college, but you’re already out, so…” Oh 209, we only got good at being college during the month of May. :p
I spent the next morning grabbing dimsum and wandering around the loop with Alex, who was visiting from Missouri (where?). Whoa, Cornell people, in the flesh! It all seems so far removed from where I am and what I’m doing now. And tomorrow is the first day of freshman orientation, and Sunday will be First Night and drumline won’t be at my apt this year…all right, I’ll stop tearing up. Especially since now I know where to find 2-liter beers in glass boots. That's right, we ended up in the German Square of Lincoln Park at the Chicago Brauhaus. Apparently it is humanly possible, though not enjoyable, to down an entire boot in 7 min (not that I tried).
For good measure, I popped into the Organization for Chinese Americans (OCA) picnic on Sun afternoon. There wasn’t clear signage, so I wandered around the back of the house in question to see a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Aha, I thought, I have officially arrived. The next test was how much Mandarin I could spit out/comprehend. Sigh, 2 semesters of Chinese later, I still have a ways to go. One of the girls I met was gently correcting my accent. (ouch!) It’s ok, I forgive her, and we’re going salsa dancing this weekend. One of the other interesting people I met was an elderly lady with perfect, unaccented English. As I ogled, someone explained that she was actually born in the US, and her grandparents had immigrated in the late 1800s. Wow, they probably passed through Angel Island or participated in the original gold rush! For all the first generation asian immigrants in this country, I forget that there are 5th generation families as well.
Music aside though, the Ravinia lawn is quite a time even if you are clueless about the artist. Similar to the Tanglewood lawn, people bring in booze and picnic baskets and set up shop all over the grass. We brought in lots of bread, cheese and dip (I made pesto the night before), 3 bottles of wine and a lot of beer. Pretty tame, really, as Luis was saying last time, there had been 2 more bottles of wine than there were people. By the end of the night, everyone was pleasantly festive (or maybe somewhat belligerent).
I’ll be back next weekend for Rufus Wainwright. The Rufus/Guster concert at Cornell a few years ago ranks as one of my favorite shows of all time, so hopefully this will live up to that.
Afterwards, we somehow landed at a U of Chicago house party. It was actually pretty happenin’, as in not where fun goes to die. So happening, that by the end of the night, Britton and I landed the unruly task of walking a not-walking Haley home. Have you ever been cab-rejected before?? I hailed two cabs and they slowed to pick us up, then drove off when they saw Haley and thought she was going to be sick. Finally, the third cab I hailed took pity on us and we managed to get her home. Thank god Britton was there to take charge, because I wouldn’t have known what to do, having never really dealt with drunk people before…Britton: “Well, I’d say welcome to college, but you’re already out, so…” Oh 209, we only got good at being college during the month of May. :p
I spent the next morning grabbing dimsum and wandering around the loop with Alex, who was visiting from Missouri (where?). Whoa, Cornell people, in the flesh! It all seems so far removed from where I am and what I’m doing now. And tomorrow is the first day of freshman orientation, and Sunday will be First Night and drumline won’t be at my apt this year…all right, I’ll stop tearing up. Especially since now I know where to find 2-liter beers in glass boots. That's right, we ended up in the German Square of Lincoln Park at the Chicago Brauhaus. Apparently it is humanly possible, though not enjoyable, to down an entire boot in 7 min (not that I tried).
For good measure, I popped into the Organization for Chinese Americans (OCA) picnic on Sun afternoon. There wasn’t clear signage, so I wandered around the back of the house in question to see a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Aha, I thought, I have officially arrived. The next test was how much Mandarin I could spit out/comprehend. Sigh, 2 semesters of Chinese later, I still have a ways to go. One of the girls I met was gently correcting my accent. (ouch!) It’s ok, I forgive her, and we’re going salsa dancing this weekend. One of the other interesting people I met was an elderly lady with perfect, unaccented English. As I ogled, someone explained that she was actually born in the US, and her grandparents had immigrated in the late 1800s. Wow, they probably passed through Angel Island or participated in the original gold rush! For all the first generation asian immigrants in this country, I forget that there are 5th generation families as well.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
omg frenz
I really, really miss my Cornell kids.
Don't get me wrong, I've met some great people at the Fed, through friends of friends, on street corners, etc. Actually, the AEs are probably a lot more cohesive than many other work groups, since so many of us are transplants to the area and want to meet people. And there are lots of diverse, talented people among the AE bunch.
Still, sometimes I can't help thinking how different my friends from college are, friendships I've sought out and chosen to maintain, rather than being a matter of convenience. Suffice it to say that I would much rather go to a Karaoke Revolution & fried ice cream party than hang out at the hipster club with subtitled films playing in the background.
I have yet to find someone I can drag along to really crazy ethnic restaurants. (Remember that time 209 got Indian food? No, that other time?)
At the moment, I'm even kind of bored with drinking. (Gee, I guess that phase lasted all of a month.)
Anyway, check out the Mad World video for my sufficiently emo post. If I ever finish that arrangement of Mad World on chimes, I have this vision of people making similar formations on Ho Plaza while the song is played.
(I'm wicked tired. Good parts of weekend to be highlighted later.)
Don't get me wrong, I've met some great people at the Fed, through friends of friends, on street corners, etc. Actually, the AEs are probably a lot more cohesive than many other work groups, since so many of us are transplants to the area and want to meet people. And there are lots of diverse, talented people among the AE bunch.
Still, sometimes I can't help thinking how different my friends from college are, friendships I've sought out and chosen to maintain, rather than being a matter of convenience. Suffice it to say that I would much rather go to a Karaoke Revolution & fried ice cream party than hang out at the hipster club with subtitled films playing in the background.
I have yet to find someone I can drag along to really crazy ethnic restaurants. (Remember that time 209 got Indian food? No, that other time?)
At the moment, I'm even kind of bored with drinking. (Gee, I guess that phase lasted all of a month.)
Anyway, check out the Mad World video for my sufficiently emo post. If I ever finish that arrangement of Mad World on chimes, I have this vision of people making similar formations on Ho Plaza while the song is played.
(I'm wicked tired. Good parts of weekend to be highlighted later.)
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Davy on the Radio
Independence Day “weekend,” and I’m heading down with my dad to visit the old folks at home in
This morning, as I slid into my new car (Mazda 626, for the curious) to drive it for the first time, the radio started playing “Give My Regards to Broadway.” As in, the song for which Cornell’s fight song “Give My Regards to Davy” is modeled. I’d never heard the original before, and couldn’t help feeling that this version was some sort of Weird Al imposter, desecrating the sanctity of Davy. It was a jarring mix of old and new. By the end though, I had a newfound appreciation for George M. Cohan’s original composition and lyrics.
I hope I never have to hear the alma mater of another university which uses our melody.
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