nalour

I had written this huge long entry but then realized that I was doing exactly what I don't want to be doing.
As I went to delete it, I felt bad that all those phrases and sentences are going to waste. And so, this is simply a bookmark for the virtual pages torn out of my journal.

What was gone wasn't special, what is important is that, despite what i see around the clubs, I never need to get a drink before dancing. Somehow, I went from all the awkwardness of HS winter formals to being comfortable in my own skin on a dance floor. If nothing else, that is what I'm taking with me from my odd little gap year.

And tonight....
Tonight was good. Lets just leave it at that. =)

My 14th Thanksgiving in America. From my very first holiday season soaked to my bones by the rains in the Northwest, to driving around the Columbia gorge on a beautiful day, this has been quite a journey. Never had I imagined that I would be spending Thanksgiving this year with my oldest friend, Robert, shopping and exploring Portland in its classic NW beauty.

I have much to give thanks for.My family, the trees along the gorge, bernadette's brownie boat at Pied cow, cute black skirts I found at forever 21, the misty fog hanging over the valley at eagle creek, and hanging with an old pal I've known since first grade =)

Ah. Bachata. I feel like I owe this form of latin dance its own separate entry because of the way its danced, the soft romantic music and its tendency to make every girl who is sitting down for that song oddly lonely. Many people consider bachata the "sleazy" form of latin dance. True, you are a lot closer to your partner than salsa or cha cha (albeit, you are not standing face to face but offset a bit from your lead). What is also true is the hip movements can be very sensual and some people at the clubs choose to dance it like that.

Again, I am odd in that what I love most about bachata is how relaxing it is. A lot of the dance is about the sway and getting lost in the soft music. After series of fast-paced salsa where I am always super focused on my steps and trying to anticipate what the leads are gonna do next, bachata is a wonderful break.

The music of course is half of what makes this dance amazing. Here's a youtube MV of one of my favorite songs by Mana, "Bendita Tu Luz" or "Blessed, your light". There's something about not understanding the language that makes you appreciate the sound of it, if you listen closely to the lyrics (the tones, the inflections and vowels), i think you'll find spanish a beautiful language.



The full translation of the lyrics are HERE. I am not Christian but I've been to plenty of evensongs at many grand cathedrals to appreciate the magnificence of the music that was inspired by this ancient religion. If you read the translations of many bachata songs (especially songs by Mana) they tend to be a bittersweet and forlorn. But "Bendita Tu Luz" is absolutely beautiful and about that simple moment where the world just lights up all around you, as if 1000 fireflys are there dancing too.

Blessed be the light, blessed be the light of your gaze.

I actually made this about 3 weeks ago but somehow never got around to penning down this simple deliciousness. What you're seeing is a Lemon tart made from real lemon juice (I squeezed about 6 lemons) and lemon zest made from the peel. The tart is more difficult to bake than cookies or cupcakes because it involves first baking the crust, whipping up some heavy cream and then mixing it with the lemon juice, sugar, baking powder etc.


The crust! I love the wavy edges of the tart pan.


Pre-bake. the filling has the same consistency as milk. scared the crap outta me.


The Finished product! Sprinkled with powdered sugar. Note: only a 1/3 of it is left thanks to my darling father who decides he's going to have a bite for breakfast before I had the chance to take pictures. -.-

Oh well. Baking endeavor #2. Success!

Thanks to my new and important position as a starbucks barista, me and the crew got to tour the Tazo Tea factory located right in Portland. It was my first time touring a factory, we even got to wear hard hats when we entered the processing area. Hair nets though were not so fun / fashionable.

The tour was very very interesting for many reason, mostly it is an eye-opening experience to be at a place where ALL of the Tazo tea blends come from. But more so because of the overwhelming aromas that surrounded us as we walked into the factory, passion fruit, hibiscus, peppermint, matcha. I was on sensory overload for all of the two hour tour.

Finally, the tea tasting was delightful. Thanks to my asian roots, I still like Jasmine above all other teas presented to us. Although the Vanilla Rooibus is very delicately delicious.

I am a sucker for period dramas, especially late 18th and early 19th century England. Maybe it is because I grew up reading Sherlock Holmes, the victorian era (and the decades leading up to it) seems almost familiar to me. I decided a week ago that I had enough of chick flicks and action movies and needed a return to top hats and fancy petticoats. On a whim, I chose to rent "The Scarlet Pimpernel" (1982 version) on netflix.

The book had always been one of my favorites, helpless french aristocrats meets dashing English zorro by the name of the Scarlet Pimpernel who valiantly rescues the innocents from madame guillotine. By day, the Scarlet Pimpernel is known to the world as the idiotic Sir Percy Blakeney who couldn't string two witty words together to the disappointment of his beautiful and strong-headed wife, Marguerite. But as the book progresses and each of the Scarlet Pimpernel's missions become more dangerous, Lady Blakeney soon discovers that her husband is more than he pretends to be.

Surprisingly, the movie was very enjoyable. The plot did not vary too noticibly from the book (much appreciated by fans like myself) and Anthony Andrews did well (in my opinion) of portraying the moronic Percy and the clever and daring Scarlet Pimpernel. I also really enjoyed the costumes, one of my favorite things about period dramas. Finally, Sir Ian McKellan portrays the evil Paul Chauvin, it is always amusing to see Gandalf 25 years younger and attemping to woo the beautiful Jane Seymore (as Marguerite).

Don't believe me? See for yourself... this vid really highlights Percy's transformation from fluffy airhead Sir Blakeney to the swashbuckling scarlet pimpernel. =)

To be honest, I wasn't having the best week. I hate waiting, combined with other monthly issues, and the fact that i am forced to hang out with just my dad, I found myself to be constantly agitated and cranky. After several nights of nightmares, I woke to the news that I will have to wait.. longer.. great.

Work is always fun, I grin a little every time I make a drink correctly or whenever I open a new bag of espresso beans to be poured into the hopper. But what really made my day is of course, salsa class. The past three weeks, I was forced to take a break because of my east coast trip, i almost forgot how much fun it is to be dancing in rhythm.

Today we learned the Cha Cha Cha, a more difficult variation on salsa that's cuban in origin. What makes the Cha Cha hard is not the foot work but  being able to really listen to the music and find where the "cha cha cha" is supposed to go. Since I've never been in a band or orchestra, its difficult for me to tell the basic beats in the music. Challenging for sure but all the more fun because of it.

I've got years to go before I become as good as any of the videos I found on youtube (most of them are professional performances which are considerably different than regular club social dancing). Anyway, i'm attaching the following video because, 1. the guy is hot and 2. you can see the footwork a bit clearer than the others. =)

Apparently, I just cannot watch a movie without crying anymore. Even a movie that's as funny and quirky as "Amelie", I teared up with her at the end when she was imagined that the man of her dreams was buying ingredients for her cake only to wake up to find that it was all a dream.

For Amelie at least, the reason is that I can relate so well to how she is feeling (from previous experiences). But even for movies that seem to have no connection to my current life (take, Australia or The Time Traveler's Wife), I STILL manage to cry. Once I see the world from their eyes, once I understand what they're going through, I cannot help but feel their pain as if it is my own. All together, definitely not a trait you'd want in a doctor. Who's ever heard of a physician that burst out crying whenever she walks into an examination room? 

This particular form of emotional catharsis I seem to have also highly embarrasses whoever I see a movie with. Sometime soon in the near future, all my friends will cease going to movies with me and I will be one of those loners at movies who sobs into her handkerchief whenever the music starts playing.

Yesterday I spent 14 hours in the air or at airports flying on three different airplanes just to come home. Despite having gotten up at 2:30 PST and arriving at 18:07 PST, I could not have picked a better day to fly across the country.  The entire sky was cloudless for every part of my flight and best of all, I was able to listen in on the pilots talking with the control towers again.

Last time, I only listened for about 3 hours and never really understood much of what the pilots are saying, but while flying over Minneapolis airspace, I had several enlightments on how the control towers are talking to the planes.

1. There are many airspaces even within one state. The overall name is the main airport of the state such as "Salt Lake" or "Denver", but as the planes move forward, each airspace would transfer the pilots to a different radio station
2. Example conversation: "United 197 please contact Chicago center 133.75".... "thirty-three seventy-five United 197 g'day"
3. When we enter into new airspace the pilots would check-in with the control towers by saying "Hello Chicago, United 197 340. nice ride today"... "340 united 197 roger". It took me a while to figure out but 340 means the flight level we're currently at.
4. If we do encounter turbulence, the pilots would ask the flight control if we should go higher or lower. "United 197 encountering mild chop at 360, request to ascend to 380". The control tower would put us on hold while asking other planes who are at 380 how the weather is up there.

After four hours of listening in, I still find it absolutely amazing how the planes are so well coordinated and managed between each airspace. I couldn't help but gush to a flight attendant on how I am fascinated with the whole process. She ended up talking to the 58-year old captain who asked me to stay behind so he can show me how flying works!

Over the course of a day, I seem to have turned into an 8 year old boy. Goggling out the window as we flew over the crater of Mt. St Helens, mesmerized at the shimmering expanse of dark green conifers that welcome me back into the North west and positively bouncing with glee that I got to go into the inside of a cockpit. There is no doubt about it, if I had a next life, I would be sitting right there in the cockpit, staring at sun as it rose over the vast horizon.

I can now understand the sheer amazement the 80 million immigrants must have felt as they gazed upon the magnificence that is New York City. The city seems like man-made glacier, on the outside a constant frozen expanse of buildings but secretly (like all glaciers) the city is dynamic and ever-changing.

It is mind-boggling to me that so many people can live in such a small island but still find their individuality amongst the towering skyscrapers. But like many before me, I am fascinated with this city. Although it cannot compare with London in history, not can it compare with Paris in aesthetics, New York comes with an unique sense of confidence in its famous streets and diverse people.

From the top of the Empire State building, it is easy to love the city's twinkling lights. There are no stars here but for once, for one island in the whole world, that is more than okay.

In many odd little ways, DC reminds me of London, maybe its because this is the first time I've traveled on my own since London or maybe its because of the following reasons.

1. Everyone dresses really well here. I admire the girls and boys in being able to walk around in this heat and humidity with full jackets on. The most casual I have seen is a black skirt. Honestly, I look positively medieval in my khaki pants and birkenstocks as if my whole outfit is screaming "i'm a country girl, i'm a country girl".
2. Pret A Manger: the popular London lunch joint with sandwiches from two to three pounds each. There was one just down the street from St. James Street and I went there almost every day for food. As the escalator went up from Farragut West Station today, I saw a Pret appear right in front of me. Absolutely marvelous.
3. The metro. The waves of subway air that hits you while you are going down the escalators remind me incredibly of London's underground. I can almost hear the announcer say "Next Stop, Paddington Station. Mind the Gap." To be fair, the DC metro is in better condition than the Tube. Still, many Washingtonians complain that the metro conditions are deteriorating, they really have been too spoiled.

  

After flying across the pacific ocean 15 times, I am well aware how dangerous flying can be. I know that there are probably other planes around but its not like I've ever seen any planes in the vinicity when I'm staring through my little window.  Amazingly,  on my 6:30 AM flight to Chicago, our captain informed us that if we want to listen in on the flight deck's communication with the air traffic controllers we can tune in on channel nine.

Holy crap was it an eye-opening experience listening to the cockpit. We are always in some specific airspace, like Minneapolis center airspace and they would periodically check in on each plane over the radio, either making sure everything is going fine or informing them of a need to change altitude because of passing planes.

Here's what the conversation sounds like.

Flight control: United 132 contact Minneapolis center one thirty three point zero seventy five
United 132 Captain: zero one seventy five United 132
Flight control: United 132 ascend to flight level 390 133.589
United 132: 589 ascending to 390 united 132

I don't really understand what the numbers at the end of each phrase mean, but I think its to keep track of each message sent over the radio so for all the planes that are on that frequency, they know who the tower is speaking to. The messages were short, concise, polite with an occasional "this is American 4789 departing salt lake center, g'day".

After 3 hours, we entered chicago airspace and prepared to land to one of the busiest airports in the US. From what I can tell, there were a total of 6 other planes approaching the airport waiting to land. The flight control tower were speaking to each plane on the radio, telling some to descend, others to change angles, and the first ones in line that they are "clear for landing wait for the visual two five left, contact tower twenty point niner".

I spent the entire flight in completely fascinated by what I'm hearing. How absolutely amazing is the control tower arranging the planes, guiding them through clouds and rain? How skillful are the pilots that manage to land a huge airplane in such high pressured conditions? I found a blog written by an experienced captain while searching the internet. Captain Dave, I salute you.

What would I give to be able to sit here one day? If I wasn't so afraid of heights, if I still had 20-20 vision, if I didn't get airsick on every flight... this is where I would be.

I stood for more than 8 hours yesterday yesterday in 2 - 3 inch heels, first in clipclops and then in dancing stilettos. My poor size 5.5 feet had to bear my outrageous *** pounds of weight and some how shuffle around the dance floor to salsa, bachata and merengue. I woke up this morning unable to move my legs only to show up at 9 to the doctor's office to be sticked with three needles, on both arms for vaccine and blood work. 

Aside from the fact that I can barely move my arms and legs today, I am very happy to have learned how to dance Merengue. Merengue is the simplest form of latin dances consisting of just two steps but a lot of hip movement, turning and a certain amount of "pretzeling". By that I mean, arms interlocking, winding and unwinding around the lead and follow.

I like merengue simply because it is easy to dance to (simple two step beats) and the turns can be slower. You are essentially marching, swaying your hips as you're turning around and around. The fast type of "zip" turns required on some salsa moves always leaves me dizzy, disoriented and completely at loss as to which step i'm supposed to take next.

The downside to merengue is that the beat is often pretty fast to begin with. Because the leads start with a different foot than the follows the hip movement and its relation to footwork can be a bit confusing and misleading. And of course, for slow-witted follows like me, the inside/outside, underarm/overarm turns can really do some should injury.

The best example I can find of Merengue on youtube is this video. Fast forward to 2:30 to see what i mean about the fancy "pretzeling". Of course, please keep in mind that you take what you see on this video + 300 times more stumbling and falling and that is really how I dance =)

I've always been fascinated with translating things I've learned in English into Chinese. I had a lot of fun one night looking up the names of different elements and cell biology in google translator (铀= Uranium, cool huh?) and despite having gotten up at 5 AM this morning to head to work, I still have enough energy at the end of the day to play this little game of mine.

So I wandered into the main Starbucks website for China. First thing I noticed, like all sneaky businesses Starbucks tried its best to be "Chinese". The website is already selling moon cakes in preparation for the Autumn festival, I do not see a hint of any pumpkin spice that marks the beginning of all starbucks fall promotions. Given the amount of Asian customers we have... maybe we should sell ham/egg moon cakes for the fall.

Second, the very clever play on the name. Starbucks in chinese is 星巴克, the first character 星 sounds a bit like the word for "heart" 心. So every link i click on the site, ads would pop up with phrases like 星意礼盒, meaning "heartfelt presents" except the heart is now replaced with "starbucks". Tricky.. very tricky.

Finally, the hilarious translations of the drinks. Most of them are phonetically translated.....

Caffè Mocha = 摩卡
Caffè Latte = 拿铁 (lol, this also means grab some iron)
Americano = 美式咖啡 (american styled coffe)
Caramel Macchiato = 焦糖玛奇朵 (i think the translator didn't know how to speak italian here, because in chinese the "kuh" sound is gone and replaced with "ma-chee-do". lol.)

My personal favorite... Frappucinos = 星冰乐. It literally means, "Starbucks Frozen Happiness". =)

But the names and translations are (afterall) minor details. From my experience and for most cities in China, the major difference is that coffee is a luxury item, not a morning ritual. I doubt you will run into people who requests, grande half decaf nonfat with whip rasberry mochas. The most you'll get is a boy and girl shelling out 30 bucks per cup of frappucino.

I am leaving for China in (hopefully) six months. All my fellow Baristas have their signature drink, 2.5 pump, add SF Hazelnut, 130 degree soy lattes etc etc that still sends me into inner panic wondering how the hell do I ring/make this. I still order caramel frappucinnos when it is truth among coffee lovers that those are the "weak" drinks.

My goal for next 180 days, I will develop some crazily complicated drink that will make some poor barista in China burst out crying. =)

For my first baking project, I decided to make Toffee Bars. The recipe called for an insane amount of brown sugar and butter. As my first pastry from scratch, I didn't really feel comfortably straying from the recipe. Next time though, I want to make sure to put in less sugar. The best part of the toffee bars is the chocolate on top. Right as the bars are coming out of the oven, you place some chips on top and spread the chocolate around as they start melting. Just sprinkle some nuts on top and it smells pretty incredible.





My co-workers at the clinic seem to think that it is pretty good but there is still room for lots of improvement. Next week: Ultimate Oatmeal Raisin cookies! =)

This morning as the perfect blend of semi-warm weather, beautiful sunshine and gentle breeze to be walking around in Portland downtown. I parked my car at the clinic and then took the Portland Street car all the way to Powell's. I never really appreciated how easy it is to get around Portland, part of what makes me love the city so much.

I got two wonderful books at Powell's.

1. Betty Crocker's "Baking Basics" (with recipes from toffee bars to souffles, yay!)
2. Walk There! 50 treks around Portland and Vancouver.

Can't wait to get started on the baking.




As you can probably tell... I like pictures with a sense of motion. =)

Not matter how many times I listen to this song (on CDs I've burned, my computer or Ipod) I'm always blown away by how beautiful the melody and lyrics are. There are those songs that you listen to when you're happy, there are songs that you listen to when you're sad. This is one of the few songs that I put on and fall in love with again and again no matter what mood I am in. I

As part of my year long project, I've decided to learn how to play this on my piano. It badly needs tuning since I haven't really played on it since Sophomore year of high school. (Yikes, that's 7 years ago).

I feel like I need a break, for the past week I've been standing 6+ hours a day either shadowing, making drinks, or volunteering. Its just that secondaries keep trickling in and then there's the endless preparation I need to do for the interviews. I want to have a day to myself where I can bake some toffee bars, walk around Hawthorne looking through used books, feed the ducks at Laurelhurst park and finally head to the Burnside bridge to capture Portland downtown in the sunset. Tuesday. Tuesday will be my day.

But for now, here's a MV for "Always with me" that I like even better than the original. =)

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After reading this book for the first time about 4 years ago, I've been waiting and waiting for this movie to be out. Over the years news trickeled in that Rachel McAdams and Eric Bana are cast as the lead roles. I couldn't be more thrilled and excited to see it. And finally, tonight I got to relive the story of Henry and Clare.

In a lot of ways the screenwriters took some liberty with the dialogue, it was nowhere as smooth and narrative as the book. But I don't think any movie will be. On the whole, the movie had beautiful colors, cinematography and music. Rachel McAdams always has that amazing ability to portray so many emotions at once and Clare is one of those characters that are lonely, happy, sad, confused, impatient, content and disatisified at the same time. Especially the final scene, where she ran (like she did when she was little) to her and Henry's meadow and saw him again.

Of course I bawled like a baby when she ran into his arms. Of course I couldn't stop myself from crying when Henry travels forward in time and sees his daughter. I must have some sort of a disease because I cried in nearly every movie I saw this year, including "UP". I even cry in movies I've seen more than once, absolutely dissolving into tears every time I watch "The Notebook".

Maybe this odd friday night catharsis is a good thing, gonna go to bed early tonight so I can use my half a day off work tomorrow to walk around downtown and shop for a baking book in Powells.

For the past two days, I took a short break from Lake Oswego and went with Dr. Dodson into the uncharted territorries of central oregon. Well, not really, we headed to Burns (a six hour drive away from Portland) because Dr. Dodson is filling in as the on call doctor for the ER. And I am her shadow for two days.

I knew that for the next 48 hours I will be living in the hospital and that my life will be as close as possible to the sleep deprived days of my medical school career. But I honestly did not expect that I would be walking into my very first OR after 30 minutes of being "on call". One of the other doctors is doing a c-section and I had the opportunity to "scrub in".

And so, I put on my very first set of scrubs complete with a shoe cover and hair cap and walked through the doors. The woman is already prepped and anesthisized. The surgeon, assistant surgeon and scrub nurse all looked at me as I walked through, I was shaking in my (nonexistent) boots. The OR is filled with light, i think on TV they create the dramatic effect of having it be dark everywhere else except the operating table but everything is sparklingly bright as the surgeons cut into the woman's belly.

Whatever it is that you see on "Grey's Anatomy" cannot even compare to actually standing 2 feet away, watching the surgeons as they sliced through layers of muscle, suctioned the blood away and cauterized any bleeding vessels before finally revealing the pink/ivory uterus. I stood mesmerized as the doctors made a deep incision, suctioned away the amiotic fluids and finally, reached in and pulled out this grayish blue baby.

My first thought was... "holy crap! She looks like she's made of clay!". If the doctors had not been so calm, I probably would've thought that there was something wrong there. But a second later, she started bawling and by the time she was laid on the table, she's already starting to turn faintly pink. I watched as the nurses suctioned out some fluids from her tiny mouth and wiped some mucus from her tiny body.

Nevertheless, she is beautiful.

Out of the blue, I found myself tearing up at the realization that I just saw a baby take her first breaths. I was there to witness the first seconds of her life. While every one of us in the room have seen the horrors of this world, she is brand new, happily ignorant of all the pain the real world will bring. True, she is also patiently waiting for all the happiness she will find. She will experience the magic of tea parties and little red wagons that are long lost to the rest of us.

As I was looking through patient charts on the computer a little while later, I saw that they already added a little folder for the baby girl. Their parents had decided to name her "Amaya", which means "night rain". While the other patients had ages to be "29Y", "75Y" etc. Amaya's was simply "0D".

Dear Amaya: you probably will never know this but I was there when you were born. Today was your first day in this world. I hope it was happy.

It is a fact universally acknowledged that I love food. My roommate and I have even come up with the phrase: "Recreational Eating" to describe our sad affliction in which we eat just for fun. I'm always up for exploring a city's cool little restaurants (like Portland's Kennedy School) but what I read today while browsing through the internet is starting to disturb me. (Yes, even me who eat everything from cow tongues to pig intestines)

This particular restaurant is called: "Nyotaimori". Yikes.




Here's a description from the article.
"‘Nyotaimori’ in Japanese literally means ‘female body plate’, and this restaurant named after the tradition of eating sushi and sashimi off a nude woman’s body takes the concept to a whole new level. An edible body, with dough ‘skin’ and sauce ‘blood’ is wheeled into the room on a hospital gurney and placed upon a table. The hostess begins the meal by cutting into the body with a scalpel and then patrons dig in, operating on the body to reveal edible ‘organs’."

To all you pre-meds out there who would have to deal with cadavers sooner or later, would anyone find this appetizing? Its one thing to cut open dead bodies to learn about the organs but to eat it? I don't care if they're made of chocolate, the idea scares me beyond belief.

By the way, if you haven't had enough. Here's the full ARTICLE describing every weird restaurant from a toilet themed one to one located in a graveyard. Its an interesting read to say the least. Although to be honest, I wouldn't mind trying out the Mao-Era Red Guards Restaurant or Cabbages and Condoms. =)