Eyebrow Threading

In the latest installment of "Crystal can pretend to be a girl," I impulsively got my eyebrows threaded yesterday. Katherine stumbled across a salon in Chinatown which offered it, and we had some time to kill, so for a belated birthday present, she provided me with excruciating pain.

Just kidding! To clarify, threading is an Asian hair removal method (apparently it's big in India), where you take a piece of thread, loop and twist it, and then somehow pluck out hairs as you twist the thread. It's fast, compared to tweezers, and relatively painless, compared to waxing. I was a bit apprehensive after watching Katherine tear up while getting her brows done, but the procedure really wasn't that bad, simply some uncomfortable pinches. After about 5 minutes, it was over, and I had drastically different eyebrows, with a more defined arch and neater presentation. All this without the mess and irritation of wax.

Of course, this didn't come without the obligatory chastisement that comes with these sorts of salons. As I sat down, I mumbled something about "never doing this before," as the stylist took a look at my face and shrieked, "Oh my god, so hairy! You have to come back next time, you'll see that this will keep things much cleaner, and it feels better too." Again, in my defense, I'd like to say I was simply born with really thick eyebrows. "It's ok," said Katherine, "Last time the woman looked at me and asked if I wanted to work on my mustache! I said no, and she clucked at me and pursed her lips." Oh, the guilt trips.

Here's the before and after:

Lao Beijing 老北京

Perhaps it stems from being in the Midwest, but Chicago is perpetually fighting the perception that it is less sophisticated than its coastal counterparts, namely New York and San Fran/LA. Heck, one of the city's prominent nicknames is even "The Second City," with the implication that we are always struggling to reach the top. This aura certainly extends to Chicago's Asian offerings, as the city's Chinatowns are nowhere near the size and development of NY or SF. However, despite the lack of large, concentrated ethnic enclaves, Chicago does have a number of high notes in cuisine, if you choose with discrimination.

One foodie favorite in particular is Tony Hu's triumvirate of Lao restaurants, each with a focus on a particular Chinese province. I dined at Lao Sze Chuan 老四川, his flagship restaurant, a couple months ago with Jen, and it was quite good, though we had to share a table with another party, college dining-hall style. Just this past March, Hu opened up sister restaurants Lao Shanghai and Lao Beijing, in the same shopping plaza as the original. The initial reviews were mediocre, which is often the case for new restaurants, but since then, things seem to be running smoother. So, last night, I dropped in on Lao Beijing with Katherine to scope it out. We were greeted by an thick imposing door with a metal ring knocker, something out of an imperial castle. Interesting choice, so far.

There are two problems that perenially plague Chinese restaurants. The first is poor service. A harried waitstaff coupled with mediocre English skills often mean that meals feel like an imposition on the kitchen. As I said before, we ended up splitting a table on a previous visit to Lao Sze Chuan, which lead to some confusion over who had ordered what dishes. I was also nervous because Katherine has a nut allergy, and it can be difficult to explain this to servers if they have poor English. Much to my relief, our server had almost unaccented English, and readily assured us that there would be no traces of nuts in our food. The rest of the evening passed unintrusive (or somewhat lax) service, though we were able to flag down help as needed. So, no complaints here.

The second problem you often face is a menu the length of Ulysses. Lao Beijing was no exception, with line after line of densely packed entree items. This serves mostly to overwhelm diners, and for me, it makes the food all start to sound homogenous. Furthermore, it's damn near impossible to execute hundreds of menu items well with consistency. I will continue praying for the day that Chinese restaurants pare down their offerings and give us more choice by providing fewer choices.

At first glance, the menu looked fairly familiar, and in fact, listed most of the items on the Lao Sze Chuan menu. There was an additional section of Beijing specialties though, and after not too much thought, we opted for the infamous Peking duck, a 3-course meal for $30 between the two of us. This was the first time I'd ordered this dish (though I've tried less-authentic versions elsewhere), and I wasn't disappointed. A holistic approach is taken to the preparation of the meal as every part of the duck is used. We began with a simple soup of napa, shiitake mushroom and tofu made with duck broth, which was rich in duck flavor and had small bits of floating duck as a teaser for more to come. The next course was a stir-fry of duck with scallions, carrot and bean sprouts over rice. At this point, I was nearing a full stomach, but then the final course arrived, the classic Peking duck presentation with duck slivers, vegetable garnishes, thin Chinese crepes and a hoisin-based sauce. There was even a tomato sliced into the shape of a bird on the side. Cute!


As I was valiantly chewing, I thought about how funny it was that we were basically eating tacos, albeit with radically different ingredients than those found in Mexican food. And for that matter, even an authentic carne asada taco is a different species than one picked up from Taco Bell. The same goes with many other cross-cultural foods (tamale vs zongzi, ravioli vs pierogi vs dumpling). I wonder, is it possible for me to go to grad school for a degree in food etymology?

Anyway, there were oodles of leftovers, which I will be savoring for the next week. Lao Beijing's Peking Duck: a five-star experience.

The 3rd Annual 21st Birthday Party

Chris has been making not-so-subtle noises all week about wanting me to come hang out, so on Friday I gave in and invited myself over. At 7 pm, when we were still at work, I was a mite irritated that he was still "finishing things up," but didn't think it was particularly out of the ordinary. Eventually, we got to his place around 7:45, and I thought it was a bit odd the way he was offering to take my bag for me...until we stepped into the kitchen and a dozen people jumped out and yelled, "SURPRISE! Happy Birthday!!" That's right, my surprise birthday party was that much more shocking, given that it was 10 days late. And here I was wondering why the Fed Crew hadn't planned anything fun for the weekend.

I was floored, particularly since I'd no idea that it was coming. Granted, we all know that I tend to be really unobservant. At one point last week, I glanced at Chris' monitor, which had an email with the subject line "Surprise party for 'stal" in the inbox, whereupon I commented, "Man, you have a lot of unopened NY Times emails!" and turned away. Also, Alex apparently stored the cake (an apple tart) in the Fed kitchen frig, and I didn't notice a thing, despite storing my lunch there every day.

Adhering to Nate's "Thou shalt not bring meat into the house of a vegetarian" rule, the gang had thrown together a potluck dinner with butternut squash soup, couscous, pasta salad, brie & baguette, and caprese kebabs in the shape of a bouquet of flowers. Just as we were settling in with full stomachs, there was a knock, and the door was thrown open to reveal...Rich and Sumit! Yes indeed, the economists had arrived, and Sumit was even toting a handle of vodka for additional libations. Can we discuss how the finance team has the best economists EVER?

The past week marked my 1-year anniversary of moving to Chicago and starting work at the Fed. Who would've known that a year later I'd be partying with a fabulous Chicago posse and my boss? What a surreal, magical ride. :)

On Inflation

25 lb bag of jasmine rice 6 months ago: $11.50
Same bag of rice bought today: $21.50

There's a Chinese colloquialism that goes something like "I fear x more than the price of rice increasing." Well, it turns out that the fear is now coming to fruition.

In other news, last night I paid $47.53 to fill my gas tank. I know that higher gas and food prices are the product of myriad of global forces, and that in many ways, expensive fuel will serve to reshape and improve the way we use environmental resources. However, it's still hard to adjust to a higher baseline price when something has historically been "cheap." At the rate that oil has been skyrocketing, I'm pretty sure the gas in my tank is accruing value faster than the money in my savings account.

Critical Mass, June

Now that warm weather is here, what could be better than a long bike ride with hundreds of other people? It's been about 6 months since my last one, so I decided it was time to hit up Critical Mass, particularly since this would be Ana's last chance to attend a Mass before she moves to Berkeley. So, after work, we grabbed our backpacks and helmets, and Katherine grabbed a Rhode Island flag and hat.

Katherine: Look, I even brought a costume this time! I'm Rhode Island!
Everyone else: Wait, what? Why did you bring a costume?
Katherine: Aren't we supposed to have costumes? Oh wait, last time we went in October, and it was Halloween...

At least she didn't look out of place with the flag-cape. The Mass always attracts plenty of sideshow-like acts, and this ride was no exception. There were small children, Bush protesters, acoustic guitarists singing about Carl Sandburg, people in underwear, and "Less gas, more beer" signs. We roughly followed this route, which took us through lots of parts of the South Side I'd never seen before, past a building that smelled like a muffin factory (yum!) and another building that smelled like manure (gag). At one point, the Mass wound its way to Ashland and 31st, and I wasn't sure why we were all stopping, until I realized someone had lit a colored smoke bomb. After much cheering, angry honking and many Chicago hold-ups, we continued on our way, and ended the ride 3 hours later at the 31st Street beach.

That was the good part of the ride. The not-so-good part of the ride came when the cops started breaking up the Mass and arresting people with beers. Granted, this is obviously an open container violation, but this was the first time I'd felt a hostile police presence at a ride. (Usually the cops help us cork intersections.) As I watched in horror, a cop yanked a beer out of one guy's hand and threw it on the ground, then shoved him in the back of a squad car. He threw the guy's bike into the trunk and then roughly slammed the trunk. It didn't shut, and the crowd collectively groaned. A voice shouted, "Let my people go!"

We forged on. At a subsequent intersection, a crowd had gathered menacingly around a car with the crumpled remains of a bike frame underneath. I'd seen the cyclist earlier, toting a small dog in a basket. "You killed my dog!" he yelled at the driver. She leaned out the window and pointed angrily, "Well, that guy put his bike on my car!" "She won't get away with this!" the others shouted, "Take pictures of her license plate!" The crowd jeered, and cell phone cameras dutifully began clicking. We decided to stop rubbernecking and move on before some sort of vigilante bike mafia action took place.

At this point, we realized that the crowd had thinned substantially, and we couldn't see anyone ahead of us. Oy! Luckily, there were spotters posted at intersections directing people where to go next. We paused at a light to regroup. "Mass up, mass up!" went the exhortations. "Cars are starting to cut us off, mass up and stick together!" How do you keep a band of bikers together if they don't know where they're going and there's no official leadership? Somehow, people emerge from the woodwork to direct traffic and block intersections. Like self-correcting RNA transcripts, the Mass is surprisingly resilient to failure.

This being my third Critical Mass, and one fraught with tension from non-bikers, I gave some thought as to why we mass, and what statement is being projected. I've spoken to other cyclists who say they don't support the rides and see it as a gratuitous display and disruption of traffic. We could debate till sunrise about whether the publicity and education generated by the rides outweighs the ire raised in drivers and the occasional arrest; I don't think you can say definitively whose side is in the right. However, in a post over the CCM listserv, Adam Kessel raises a very good point to the critics:

The main difference that CM makes, I believe, is in the time between rides, when otherwise depoliticized cyclists start to take action; to write letters to their representatives and city councillors; to argue with their neighbors, families, and friends; to become increasingly aware of the primary role that the private automobile plays in determining foreign and domestic policy, in separating out rich from poor and black from white, in causing more deaths, injuries, and illnesses than all of the leading 'public health' villains.

Critical Mass promotes a vision where cycling is mainstream, an alternative option to our car-centric culture, a place where fear is eliminated and bikers feel safe to ride in traffic, as traffic. For a brief, ephemeral afternoon, we ride in an imaginary cocoon, united with strangers. And then I leave, alone but mobilized with a message. Looking back at the number of people I've convinced to start biking, I think I'm doing pretty good.

On Deutsch

German gets a bad rap for being an ugly language, particularly when compared to the refined sound of French or the romanticism of Italian. Over the years though, I've found that German is quite adept at describing concepts with words that have no English-language equivalent. I suppose this can be true of every language, but I've come across neat words with greatest frequency in German. Anyway, I threw together a compilation of some of my favorites. Many of these have become loanwords in English, and I encourage you to put the others in mainstream use.

• Schadenfreude: As the Avenue Q song puts it, this is happiness at the misfortune of others. ("Straight-A students getting B's, exes getting STDs!")
  
• Zeitgeist: the spirit of the age, used to describe cultural attitudes and moods
  
• Gestalt: the unified whole, something more than the summation of its parts
  
• Funktionlust: the pleasure taken from doing what one does best, loving your drive
  
• Lebenskünstler: "life-artist," or someone who has mastered the art of living, generally through unorthodox means, eschewing the usual rules to make ends meet and happy with their line of work
  
• Ohrwurm: when a song gets stuck in your head
  
• Ansatz: a trial solution that is later verified by its results, oft used in physics and mathematics
  

Academia

Leland's last day at the Fed was Friday afternoon, and as the economists are wont to doing, an email was sent out to the department inviting everyone to go to Ceres for happy hour.

Despite Erik and Ryan trying to sway me, I'd already made up my mind that I wanted to go home. To be honest, I was never particularly close to Leland, and I'm not sure if any of the AEs could claim close bonds. But we do all have a healthy amount of respect, for his astounding work ethic and passion for economics. The ongoing joke is that the macro team's output is going to halve in the aftermath of Leland's departure. Moreover, Leland certainly has ample amounts of support and kinship from the macroeconomists.

Then Sumit (Chris' economist) came by, and asked why we were still dawdling, and why we weren't at Ceres. We made noises about not knowing anyone on the macro team, whereupon Sumit announced, "Well, that's ok. We're going to this thing and we're having a drink. Grab your bags, we're leaving." I gave Chris a stunned look and hastily grabbed my belongings. How could you not acquiesce? It was about as good as drinking with your profs.

Much to my surprise, a healthy crowd had gathered already, including Jeff and Francois from the macro team, Charlie Evans, the Chicago Fed president, and a handful of other AEs. I ordered a Blue Moon and sat back as they regaled us with Tales of Academia. Aside from Leland, who was leaving for grad school at Maryland, Ana was also there, and she'll be leaving for grad school at Berkeley. What advice then, would you give to an aspiring economist? Doesn't it seem like it's getting harder and harder every year to break into the field? Aren't all the good ideas already taken?

Jeff suggested looking for papers in third-rate journals from first-rate academics; it's an indication that they wrestled with a challenging idea and failed, so perhaps you can take a fresh look and solve the problem. He also suggested keeping up Fed ties, by say, working at the San Francisco Fed. This would also conveniently provide a place for you to escape when you need to write your dissertation.

Charlie gave some thoughts on giving presentations. Unfortunately, the first seminars you give are often your most important ones: job market seminars. If you skimp on background information, someone will say they don't understand the motivation behind this paper. If you give an elaborate literature review, others will invariably say they're only interested in seeing your regressions. How do you reconcile the contradictory opinions? It's practically impossible to strike a perfect balance; the best thing you can do is simply know your audience. Sumit: "Yeah Jeff, remember when I gave a seminar and you said you didn't like the title? I wasn't even past slide one!"

Sumit is a special case of an economist who was in the private sector and then left for a more academic position. (Generally, this only happens in reverse.) We asked if the transition had been easy, and he responded, "My recommendation for you guys is not to do what I did. There's a lot of disdain for private sector economists; you can never really come back after you've gone out there, and in many ways, I'm still paying for the six years I worked in industry." But why turn down the money, the hefty one or two million a year? Besides, it's not as though he doesn't work 12 hour days anyway at the Fed. "Well, that's not the same," Sumit replied. "That's a lifestyle choice. If I suddenly started working 8 hours a day tomorrow, no one would say anything. Even though I'm still working long hours, it's because I want to."

It took some pushing, but I'm glad I went. For the first time, I felt like a part of the economics field, as though I'd been initiated into an ancient guild of craftsmen. I realize this is silly, since I haven't even applied to grad school, nor am I confident that I want to apply, but for that shining hour, I could feel the invisible hand patting me on the back.

By the way, in case you ever wondered, Charlie is a gin & tonic kind of guy. In particular, a Beefeater gin kind of guy.