You shall not be spared

I thought I was so lucky. My parents told me all through college to focus on my education and not worry about dating. It translated to me as they would not be meddling in my, granted non-existent, lovelife and not be placing any pressure to get married or whatever. I thought I somehow miraculously had the Asian parents not talking about the urgency to marry a Chinese engineer. Gah, I'm sad it's over. The illusion, anyway. I'm visiting home and this time the article my dad clipped for me from the Chinese newspaper is not on the health benefits of eggplant, but about Chinese online dating sites. "It's not good for you to be alone," he says. Gah! I know that! And he had to bring up one of his friend's single sons and ask me what I thought of the guy. No! It's happening! My mom also asked me if I still talk with any of the guys I knew in high school. No, thank god, I do not. Well, it's only the first conversation. If it gets any worse I may need to create a fictional boyfriend. You know, Chinese, Christian, and a software engineer at Google. I think I'm too old for freak-out games like Black, Muslim, and a pot dealer. But, let's see how intense this gets as I approach 30.

painting i did while sick at home...

hey you...

I made this mini illustration from my daily obsession, Farmville. This is one of the wiley pest creatures. But awefully cute, no?

It's been a while since I've updated, I know. Life has been the usual. Except that my grandmother passed away, but I didn't want to write about that. So I offer you these new mini adventure of mine.

----------------------------------------------

I was walking with a friend near Oakland's Chinatown when and older Chinese woman abruptly stopped us to point out the hat I was wearing, and here is the ensuing encounter.

Lady: That hat. Your yellow hat. Where did you get that hat?

Me: Oh, it's been so long. I don't remember anymore.

Lady: You have a good memory! Get your memory back!

De colores...

The most amazing sight on this trip was of this waterfall I saw on a boat ride in the Canyon of Sumidera.

Textiles!

A family that shared morning tortillas with us.

Colorful streets and houses

Where am I?

The Mayan ruins of Palenque

Ooo, ruins.

Ah, the beautiful falls of Agua Azul.

Amazing blueness.

A view of San Cristobol from high up at a church on a hillside.

All the whippets, sad to be ushered into the house and not be going on a car ride.

Chichanpec! He was the smallest of the pack of dogs and also the most afraid of people. No wonder since mother of the friend I stayed with found him in her yard one day when the neighbor threw him over the fence.

I'm finally back in Oakland and when officially back to work today. It was very hard to go back as I miss my vacation already and I got a cold that has had me hacking and coughing all day. In the evening I was so tired I just crashed for about an hour, but roused myself up enough to make some vegetable soup with rice. Here is a small collection of some of my photos from the trip. The last few days were spent in strolls through the city of San Cristobol de las Casas, enjoying the cobblestone streets lined in colorful houses, poking into papelerias, and buying handmade souvenirs like little Zapatista dolls and wool toys. I ended left with more pesos than I had planned and snapped up some more souvenirs and a book in the airports as I hopped home. It's nice to be back in my own warm bed, but like with any trip, it feels strangely like I had never left. Oh how wiley traveling is, those huge jumps in consciousness when you are suddenly somewhere new and miss home, but then the feeling of almost transmografication when you are home and it was like you never left.

I'll have one crabby patty!

I decided to forgo the beach as the rain keeps flying in over the mountains in waves throughout the day. The forecast did not look good for a trip to the beach. Or a 4-hour bus ride. Ugh, please no more bus in the mountains... So instead I´m staying in San Cristobol. I think this may be the most relaxing vacation I´ve had, not because of what I´m doing or where I am, but because I don´t feel stressed out. This is a very new feeling for me, one that I´ve not really experienced in my life before. I kind of like it, but don´t know what to do with it really. Also, my friend´s friend is very much into stargazing and has a great location for it up in the hills of San Cristobol. He showed me a computer program he has that follows the position of the stars and he also calculated my zodiac sign, which is actually cancer and not leo, owning to the variations of positions of the stars over time which do not follow the Gregorian calendar. Cancer! It was like a whole revelation for me. I was always figured there was nothing to astrology as it got my personality as a leo completely wrong. I'm the opposite of an outgoing person who can command attention in a crowd. But, as a cancer, well, that is a whole revelation. I can totally count myself as an introvert with mood swings and a huge loyalty complex. Maybe there is something to this astrology stuff. Really it just made me think about myself and how I see myself. I can accept my weaknesses, knowing that the flip side of them are also my greatest strengths. Now which signs are cancers compatible with?

Despues...

Hola from Chiapas! I´m now in San Cristobol de las Casas, a colonial city in Chiapas, the southernmost state in Mexico. I´m here visiting my friend and am using his computer, so I can write things like ¡Excellente! and ¿Is that water potable or is that paramecium I see? I don´t have time for a complete post I just want to give you some highlights, my few but intrepid regular readers.

- I initially kinda lost my suitcase because I didn´t get it checked through customs in the Mexico City airport like I was supposed to. I actually went through immigration twice looking for customs but couldn´t find it. So my bag didn´t arrive in Tuxtla Gutierrez with me and I had to go back to the airport later to get it. Mexicana said they would call me but didn´t and none of their numbers worked, of course not, why would they. So my friend and I just ended up going to the airport where, my goodness, it had luckily arrived on the last flight and had been stowed away in a storage closet. I think if we hadn´t just gone, I would be now wearing a whole new Mexican wardrobe right now.
- We took a boat tour of the Cañon de Sumidera on the river that runs through it to a huge dam that produces half of Mexico´s energy. The canyon was full of animals like monkey, birds, and crocodiles, but the highlight was a gorgeous waterfall of mist and huge water droplets falling over rock precipices that resemble a Christmas tree. It was one of the most beautiful things I´ve ever seen, and I´ll post my pics with the post once I can, but I´m not sure the photo does it justice.
- We had some trips to see the villages of Zinacatan and San Juan Chamula. Both towns are inhabited mostly with indigenous people with their elaborately embroidered clothing and hordes of begging children trying to secure sales of bracelets or belts. In San Juan Chamula we went into a church where the locals practice an eerie combination of traditional practices with Catholicism. They lite candles on the ceramic floor surrounded by pine needles and sprayed soda or alcohol from their mouths. The ceremony was then completed with the killing of a chicken. Very interesting, but felt wrong to be intruding as tourist and there was a definite energy about the outsiders buying tickets to view a spectacle...
- I´m staying at the house of my friend´s friend. He lives in a gorgeous house set up in the hill with a view of San Cristobol de las Casas and its surrounding mountains. He also has 11 very exuberant dogs, which makes eating and entering a huge exercise. Wow, whippets are some hyper-ass dogs.
- Took a 6-hour bus ride to Palenque to see Mayan ruins and see two famous waterfalls. The ruins were cool and the waterfalls amazing. We got to swim in one until the rain drove us out. Ah, but the big adventure proved to be the bus ride there where my friend and I both ended up getting major road sickness on the windy roads, last minute tamales, and an unwise choice of morning mexcal. I was feeling a bit piqued from the road but the smell of my friend´s vomit totally put me over the edge. Honestly, it is one the funniest things that could happen and as gross as it was I can´t help smiling or exploding with laughter when I think about my friend´s first hamster-cheeked vomit face.

My Spanish still sucks as ever and I may have to solo a trip to the Pacific coast. Ah! I hope I´m ready for a little adventure. Though, please, no more gastronomic ones.

home is where the seratonin is...

If you will notice, I've finally updated the title of this blog to indicate that I in fact live in Oakland, and not Berkeley anymore. I know, it's about 2 years behind my actual physical move, but the current status update has a lot to do with mulling over my living situation and possible changes to it.

For the past few months I've been looking at condos and houses with a milquetoast intention to buy. And today I saw a lovely house that I could totally picture myself living in. Strolling to the local bakery and grocery shops. Visiting the local library. Taking walks in the residential streets and to the nearby park. Figuring out new routes to get to work. Signing up at the local gym. Planting a garden...(I have a lip tremble at that one.) But then also freaking out at how I could possibly cover the mortgage payments for an exorbitantly priced house, trying hard to stay in Oakland but not anywhere I might get shot. My anxiety level spiked at thoughts of possibly three-fourths of my paycheck being siphoned off each month and having no savings at all, being stuck in a large--albeit charming--space that is devoid of the furniture I can't afford.

But let me backtrack a bit. This whole house searching thing started in the spring when my mom pointed out that housing prices are plummeting and it's a great time to get into the housing market. Low interest rates. Foreclosures priced to sell. Great investment opportunities. At her avid urging I went to an open house and met a realtor and have since been on a bit of a runaway train seeing condos and houses from listings sent to me by my mom, my realtor, and some that I found on my own while combing trulia.com and redfin.com. I even made offers on 2 condos, but at prices that I was quickly relieved were too low to be accepted.

I've learned a great deal about Bay Area real estate, though to be honest not as much as if my heart were really into to buying a place. I've maintained a search out of a weird sense of obligation to my parents to be fiscally-minded and accepting of their offered generosity--because for real there ain't no way I could independently afford any kind of downpayment on anything. My parents really want to invest money in me by helping me to get a place and I had to struggle with being able to accept that gift and not resent or degrudge it as an prod or a chain. After finally grappling with that, today's seeing a house that I could actually potentially live in made me freak out again and feel rushed to act. Because I'm not ready to buy a house. Or a condo.

And talking it over with my mom, while she went what price we should offer and launched into giving me more listings to look at, I finally was able to articulate how stressful and painful this whole process was and how in a hurry I was to put in offers just so that I could stop looking for more houses. And this time my mom heard the desperation, or maybe just peevishness, in my voice and realized that I was not enjoying this housing search and was doing it out of some misplaced sense of filial duty. And she released me. Said, you're not ready--it's ok.

I was surprised. I was gearing up for a verbal melee with hurt feelings and blame and a culminating burst of sobs to get myself out of this particular spiral of parental expectation, but my mom was cool about it. Which reminds me of a recent revelation about how Asian parents feed off their kids' insecurity. If I can't project confidence and manage up, my parents will give explicit instructions and expectations and manage down believing that they need to guide me out of my uncertainty. I mean, I knew when this whole thing started that I didn't want to buy a condo or house. I was paralyzed just by the thought of moving out of my drafty, tiny studio apartment (for what? where? ahh!). If I could have conveyed that uncertainty with certainty to my mom, I realize that I could have saved myself months of grief. It's hard for me too to learn that my parents aren't going to push me to the edge of a cliff just because they want to. If they can understand what I want, they won't feel so compelled to guess that I need to want what they want. What a crazy thought. We don't have to torture ourselves or each other just for the hell of it.

Maybe I'll browse craigslist and see if there are any nice one bedroom apartments around. If I feel like it.

For goodness sake

I just finished reading Nick Hornby's How To Be Good. I didn't encounter verbal artistry to coo over, but the book got under my skin, which is maybe the genius of it. One theme it hits, alongside the narrative of a family struggling along and a ridiculous spiritual healer with turtle broaches pierced to his eyebrows, is how does one be good? What do you owe to society, to the poor, to injustice, to meanness? How much should we feel guilty and take responsibility for the shittiness of the world we live in and the ugly side of humanity. I think what shocked me a bit is how much I didn't care for any kind of sanctimony anymore. I don't know if it has to do with getting older or having turned "charity" into my career by doing social work, but the desperate need to change the world now to right so much socially constructed inequality has puttered out of me. The righteous indignation and inability to understand how there can be so much ill in the world has been replaced with an easy satisfaction with knowing that things are the way they are. It's enough to keep myself together and not get depressed or mean or unsatisfied with life. Maybe it's also the futility that I learned in doing social work as well, that you have limits to what you can do and the world will stumble merrily along in it's usual fucked up state with or without my intervention. It sure takes the pressure off. Also some of the sense of purpose though. So what's left? How do you be good?

Saturn returns inevitably

Golden Gate, hello!

San Francisco from the Golden Gate Bridge.

Mighty beams

Cute lamp posts

Ah, near sailboat collision!

Goodies from abroad

So it's happened. My birthday has arrived and I'm now 28-years-old. Ok, I know that 28 is by no means old, but it is also--in my mind--by no means young. It's signaling to me a point of no return to the heedless twenties, which I gladly leave behind but no longer have the right to claim. When you're in your twenties you get to make mistakes, or can anyway, without too much thought to consequences. You have resources at your disposal plus plenty of energy and pluck. And most of all, you have time to try things and figure them out. You can be a bit naive to the fact that your actions and decisions have consquences. I think hitting my 30s will also mean never being able to make a decision without some cost/benefit analysis. Ha, as if I couldn't be any more inhibited by thought of potential failures... But all depressive stewing aside, I admit that every year of my life has been better than the previous year. I know myself a little better and own myself more. I learn to admit and forgive my faults more and, god willing, become better at doing the same with the "faults" I see in others. To like where I am is to look forward to where I am going to be. A place with bright windows, amazing potential, and nice hair.

The pictures are from a jaunt across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, something I've always wanted to do since moving here. To celebrate my unavoidable step towards adulthood, or something.

My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the trees...

Ooo, pretty river.

General Grant tree. Ulysses!

Bluebonnets in California

Bambis!

The Sierras are gorgeous. For reals.

Ooo, I liked this creepy tree.

General Sherman! The biggest tree in the world...by volume.

Ahh, you are so cute, Mr. Chipmunk, let me squeeze you!

Shermie's former name was Carl Marx. Interesting.

He's so big he dwarfs the other arbols.

Beautiful view of the Sierras.

The visitor center Critter Talk about ladybugs. There are 400 species in the world and the park has 11. That little boy was ridiculously cute.

Mighty mighty Sequoia

Booker T! Now we need an Obama tree.

An interesting rock message left on a trail. What does it mean...

Ah, the forests were absolutely glorious.

Ok, I know--wrong war, but still patriotic. I spent the fourth on a camping trip friends and new acquaintances in Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Park. It was a good 4-hour drive to get there from Oakland via Fresno. I had never been to the Sierra Mountains. So much beauty in the valleys and rivers. It was also great to be out camping again, though sleeping on the ground doesn't seem to get easier, and I seriously think I got bruises on my hips from trying to sleep on my sides. The trees were gorgeous and enourmous; the tourists were from all over the world; the creek water was toe-freezing cold. The temperature, though, was just perfect. The days were warm but not witheringly hot. The forests were cool on our hikes. One night, we had started a hike late and ended up driving back to our campsite as the sun set and a full moon emerged. We got to enjoy a glorious view of the mountain valley bathed in silver moonlight. Now, that is something. Taking a shower on the second day, was amazing too. Yeah, sleeping in filth with the stench of my own neck wafting back at me constantly in my sleeping bag is not my idea of living life to the max, if you know what I mean. When we were trying to leave, though, the road was closed due to a forest fire. I was worried we'd have to stay another day, but thankfully it got under control and we were able to take off in the late afternoon. It was such a great feeling to be camping again. But for real, I am no wilderness chick. My idea of camping involves a car and flushing toilets. Excellent.

Summertime, and it's all about mini adventures...

I am loving these long summer days, sunny evenings, and (sometimes) warm days. I think, too, that I want to use this summer to enjoy living. I love my packed weekends and leisurely strolls home through Chinatown. Even work has been very light, as I started my new job in adoptions and I have very few cases--though I'm starting to see that the work itself is so much less intense and demanding as being a worker with court dependent kids was. Some adventures I've had so far include the following:

- A weekend trip to the Russian river. 9 people in a cabin. That's kinda a lot of people. But wonderful time kayaking down the river and swimming in it. The water was cool on a hot day. The first time I've tried out wearing a bikini. Excellent!
- I went to my first taiko drumming class. It was super intense and disciplined, but I loved that about it. I haven't done anything musical for years since playing the cello in high school and I really miss it. It was thrilling to learn songs and beats and just what position to stand and how to hold the bachi (drum sticks). One mini contention I have is with one of the classmates. The instructor kept complimenting me on how well I was doing for my first time. I think an older student, aka white lady, got miffed at it and said to the class that it was because taiko is in my blood. Hello, white lady! I'm not Japanese. And even if I was it does mean I'm genetically encoded to play taiko drums. Please, white lady, keep your ignorant assumptions and delicate ego to yourself.
- Stern Grove Music Festival in San Francisco, a free fest on the weekends in a SF park. Saw La Nubians and much enjoyed the music. And now get to enjoy sunburns on my shoulders and chest. You aren't really out there in the summertime unless you get a nice ichy, red reminder of it.
- SF Pride. I didn't actually spend too much time at pride, but did get to see the streams of people packing the trains to get there. Tight shirts, mini shorts, bondage gear, speedos. Damn, just one step short of nudity.
- Oh, which reminds me, I was enjoying a fancy meal at a waterfront restraunt on a Dine In special, where fancy restraunts had fixed menus for fixed prices to encourage attendance in fancier places. And sitting in the patio on by the pier, my friend and I got a lovely view of a pack of naked bikers streaming by. Ah bay area, you never fail to provide regular doses of naked flesh.

Dora dan Diego

Oh, funny things I wanted to also mention from Malaysia:

1. I saw on a school a picture of Dora and Diego made to look Chinese in black hair, and dressed the white shirt and light blue bottom school uniform. Wow, those kids are more popular than Sponge Bob.

2. On the flight to Kuching from Singapore the flight attendant announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have arrived in Kuching International Airport." Are we at carnival or something?

3. I did see swastikas decorating a Buddhist temple. Ok. But then I also saw a teenager with a red t-shirt that had a black swastika in the middle of a white circle. Um, girl, Nazi fashion is not cute.

4. We went to a restaurant that made the popular Singapore chicken rice and also featured tian ji. I was like, field chicken? My mom explained that it was frog. Chicken of the rice patty! It did taste like chicken too.

Selamat Datang! Welcome to Malaysia

a pretty pond in the part o commemorate Chinese settlers on Sibu

ooo, I want to be "Junaidi Man Apin igat Mit"

graves of the original Chinese settlers

my uncle's library, from where i got books to read my whole trip

ah, the best of desserts

rocky. bumpy path

Bye bye!

Civic center, home to the history of Sibu settlement

Hornbill at grandma's house

Ah, the Rajang River, nicely browned with the topsoil of the rainforest being rapidly deforested for some fat cats. Nice.

the Chinese pagoda

Ananas!

Our megaplane home for way too many days. No more planes for a year please...

fresh fish market, shrimpies!

gosh, i can't find anything to eat in Malaysia...

Adios, Malaysia!

It's been about two weeks since I've been back from my trip to Malaysia, but I feel like even a perfunctory posting is in order. Let's see...I'll have to peruse my trip journal, which I was less than assiduous about keeping. It seems I don't muster the same intense frustration with life than I did when I was younger that hungered for any outlet. Or at least the frustration is different, and maybe less intense.

Ah, so the following things I had to stretch myself to be zen about:
- Taking care of my older sister. I stayed in a room with her and took over responsibilities of bathing her and getting her ready for bed, encouraging her to do things. I stressed myself out over her, more than anything. Still working on a balance of guilt over not being around much and difficulty communicating. And the frustration I feel that there are certain things she will not be able to learn how to do or say independently, and understanding what she is capable of cognitively and developmentally. And the weird projection that makes me wonder if I am capable of parenting a child--for which, I'm thankful to all my friends who remind me that being a parent and being a sister are two very different things.

- Realizing that I chose to enter on a family vacation, not an adventure travel tour. I tend to get frustrated when I'm on trips with my family because they are not into sightseeing. But I had to step back a bit and appreciate the trip for what it was, a trip home to see family and reconnect with the people who make me who I am. Once I wrapped my head around the fact that we weren't going to see orangutans or rain forests, I started to enjoy seeing my grandmother, uncles, aunts, and cousins. And still my mom tells me little bits and stories about our family history from our family history book. What strikes me, though, is that our family history--both my mom and dad's families--will not keep records of my generation or after because my sisters and I are all girls. We will neither be Tings or Lings once married, and therefore left off from future chronicles of our family. It is eerie to think of all the women and generations that are not captured because they no longer hold the family name. My mom told me that if I marry someone Chinese I would end up in their family chronicle. Somehow, that doesn't seem satisfying in the sense that my existence had some continuity and connection to my family and culture, but to a culture that doesn't value female existence in families. Eh, no thanks.

- The heat. It was so hot. I don't see how you can survive in Malaysia without having to be zen about the heat. You have to pass out in the afternoons when the sun is working it's hardest to bleach the earth into oblivion. Everything--clothing, plastic buckets, roofs, roads, people--bear some kind signs of being eaten by the sun. Ditto the effects of humidity and rainforest rains. Everyone moves a little slower just to preserve energy, which makes life a slower pace. Even traffic moves languorously. The roads were kinda crazy so I can see you needing to watch out as a pedestrian or cyclist, but in a car you're pretty safe as a defensive driver because everyone drives creepingly slow.

Overall, really an incredibly relaxing trip. I ate a lot and read a lot, which is what I usually do in Malaysia. And actually what I usually do on vacations in general. Give me a library and fruit and I'm all set for weeks. It's funny and discombobulating to be back in Oakland and going back to work like I never left. I might as well have thrown my body through a time warp. But there it is.