Remember that time, back when there was always some event or activity or person to be soooooo excited about? When you added those extra “o”s because it wasn’t just exciting, it was soooooooooo exciting!
So and so’s birthday is next month, PARTAY! Drinks after work, 4:59pm, time to GO! Can you believe I met HIM on the train???
I recently realized that even though celebrations, outings and happenstance encounters are still a big part of our lives, what keeps us going, laughing, smiling and what keeps us checking our calendars regularly. That “sooooo excited” feeling, has somehow transformed and has been substituted with “life is good” feeling. The excitement has certainly gone down a notch or two.
Am I wrong?
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It is only natural that when you’re young, you can’t get enough of everything, all the new places, things and people to see, touch, eat, smell, meet, kiss and travel to. When you’re no longer young but young-ish, and slightly wiser (let’s just say for argument’s sake), it’s not about what’s next, but more so about now, while keeping the eye on the next.
Don’t get me wrong, we still plan, expect and look forward to. Only now, those feelings lack that immediacy. Is it because most of us have already felt some drawbacks in life? Have we learned to expect more cautiously? Or is it because we can feel happy and content even if life hasn’t turned out exactly how we thought it would?
- How do you make God laugh?
- You make a plan.
So it’s almost as if we’re experienced enough to know that this PARTAY is not the end of, or the top of, or the best of, or most exciting of life’s bestest, most beautiful, meaningful or precious moments.
My life is not perfect, but life is good. All I ask is a peace of mind and some LOL moments, no matter where, when or with whom.
Happenstance and serenity! (Just because I like those two words)
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
60 kilos of luggage...
I have been infrequently but now regularly taking trips to the motherland of my russian-speaking town of Odessa in Ukraine. One trip every three years or so. There is always a mixed confusing emotion which creeps up in the few days leading to the trip. It has nothing to do with the joy, excitement, peacefulness, hominess and satisfaction of spending time with my grandfather, cousins, aunts, uncles, childhood friends, an odd classmate here and there; walking down the same streets that I ran through on my way to school; playing in the sands of the beaches and watching out for jellyfish in the Black Sea.
It is something else entirely and it involves one or all of the following emotions: nerves, embarassment, worry and anxiety. The source of the anxious emotions is simply the logistics of the actual trip. The plan ride, the layover in Kiev, the gazillion bags of suitcases, one half of the suitcase of which is actually my clothes with the rest bearing gifts, the customs in Ukraine and of course being surrounded by my fellow countrymen in much bigger numbers than I am accustomed to.
A friend of mine reminded me before the trip, "I try not to worry about things I have no control over." Well, "try" is the key word here, right after "no control." I know its irrational, I know that the hassle, the haggling and the chaos are just a few of the ridiculous pleasures of this aspect of the russian-ukrainian-soviet culture. It is what it is. They are who they are. I am who I am.
So let me explain or elaborate in further detail. The first impression is always the flight attendant crew of the Ukrainian airline. I have not yet met a more sour, unhelpful and often rude air crew bunch. The ancient American flight attendants of a certain American airline have nothing on these guys and girls. Evidently, there are a lot more male attendants (and most likely straight attendants) than what I've seen elsewhere.
I keep telling my mom, "You have to speak English to these people, otherwise they treat you as one of their own." Which expectedly might be a good thing. In this case, being treated as one of their own is not. The better part of me keeps saying that they don't mean to be mean, they're just not used to people smiling, or having/wanting to smile back. Excellent customer service has nothing to do with servicing customers for them. We're just spoiled with this phenomenon in the US. They just don't know any better. You can't be mad at a person for something that they may never have experienced in their life. Finally I realize, that's just the culture.
The layover. Typical stuff, you can get to foreign soil, but need to transfer to a different flight. You know you have to go through customs. You know you need to check-in for your transferring flight. What you don't know is where, how and whether or not your transfering flight has left already because this one was over an hour late.
If only you could ask someone. If only there were signs, instructions, arrival/departure schedule posted. Those thoughts kept running through my head as I tried to quickly maneuver through the chaos of other passengers with other transfers, with may be two staff members trying to service this chaos, not knowing where to go and how long it would take. Imagine the check-in person, a representative of one or who knows how many airlines (noone knew, there were no signs), with about 40 hands pushing their passports in the represenetative's face, with just as many voices trying to ask "Where am I supposed to be going?" or "Did the Warsaw flight leave already?"
15 minutes left to scheduled flight departure. The good thing in Kiev is that this is quite enough time to go through passport control, collect your gazillion bags from baggage claim, befriend a bunch of people that are in the exactly the same situation as you trying to make their transfer flight, go through customs and explain exactly how many electronic products you're carrying with you, get out of the terminal, go on foot to a whole other terminal, check-in with two other countrywomen gently pushing you from the back, go through another security check point and finally arrive at the gate with your tongue literally hanging out of your mouth.
All this could not have been done of course without a bunch of "Please let us through we have a flight in 10 minutes" and strongly taking the staring and the sour faces of those that well, still, let us through. As a former soviet this push and shove attitude quickly comes from the shadows of your don't want to intrude American attitude, and saves the day. Running up and down the stairs and across terminals with various inclines, declines and puddles with over 60kilos of luggage is quite an exercise. (Apparently they don't have such lavish accommodations as an elevator or escalator. Apparently they don't have disabled people in the country. At least not the kind that travel or go outside of their home. Slight tangent here, but worth the mention.)
All of this was worth it, however, to see the smiles of my aunt and cousin as they were impatiently waiting for us, swiftly picking up all the bags and driving home. It was worth the excitement on my grandfather's face as he saw his daughter and granddaughter run out of the car to hug him. This home that I speak of, thousands of miles away from my actual home in NYC, is the home where my mom grew up, where I was born, where I spent most of my summers as a kid. Still same old home, courtyard, streets, trees, cars, pharmacies, bazaar, school, childhood friends and the people. A home that in a glimpse makes me feel like I just came back from a 15 year vacation. The only difference is the sea of outdoor advertising.
It is something else entirely and it involves one or all of the following emotions: nerves, embarassment, worry and anxiety. The source of the anxious emotions is simply the logistics of the actual trip. The plan ride, the layover in Kiev, the gazillion bags of suitcases, one half of the suitcase of which is actually my clothes with the rest bearing gifts, the customs in Ukraine and of course being surrounded by my fellow countrymen in much bigger numbers than I am accustomed to.
A friend of mine reminded me before the trip, "I try not to worry about things I have no control over." Well, "try" is the key word here, right after "no control." I know its irrational, I know that the hassle, the haggling and the chaos are just a few of the ridiculous pleasures of this aspect of the russian-ukrainian-soviet culture. It is what it is. They are who they are. I am who I am.
So let me explain or elaborate in further detail. The first impression is always the flight attendant crew of the Ukrainian airline. I have not yet met a more sour, unhelpful and often rude air crew bunch. The ancient American flight attendants of a certain American airline have nothing on these guys and girls. Evidently, there are a lot more male attendants (and most likely straight attendants) than what I've seen elsewhere.
I keep telling my mom, "You have to speak English to these people, otherwise they treat you as one of their own." Which expectedly might be a good thing. In this case, being treated as one of their own is not. The better part of me keeps saying that they don't mean to be mean, they're just not used to people smiling, or having/wanting to smile back. Excellent customer service has nothing to do with servicing customers for them. We're just spoiled with this phenomenon in the US. They just don't know any better. You can't be mad at a person for something that they may never have experienced in their life. Finally I realize, that's just the culture.
The layover. Typical stuff, you can get to foreign soil, but need to transfer to a different flight. You know you have to go through customs. You know you need to check-in for your transferring flight. What you don't know is where, how and whether or not your transfering flight has left already because this one was over an hour late.
If only you could ask someone. If only there were signs, instructions, arrival/departure schedule posted. Those thoughts kept running through my head as I tried to quickly maneuver through the chaos of other passengers with other transfers, with may be two staff members trying to service this chaos, not knowing where to go and how long it would take. Imagine the check-in person, a representative of one or who knows how many airlines (noone knew, there were no signs), with about 40 hands pushing their passports in the represenetative's face, with just as many voices trying to ask "Where am I supposed to be going?" or "Did the Warsaw flight leave already?"
15 minutes left to scheduled flight departure. The good thing in Kiev is that this is quite enough time to go through passport control, collect your gazillion bags from baggage claim, befriend a bunch of people that are in the exactly the same situation as you trying to make their transfer flight, go through customs and explain exactly how many electronic products you're carrying with you, get out of the terminal, go on foot to a whole other terminal, check-in with two other countrywomen gently pushing you from the back, go through another security check point and finally arrive at the gate with your tongue literally hanging out of your mouth.
All this could not have been done of course without a bunch of "Please let us through we have a flight in 10 minutes" and strongly taking the staring and the sour faces of those that well, still, let us through. As a former soviet this push and shove attitude quickly comes from the shadows of your don't want to intrude American attitude, and saves the day. Running up and down the stairs and across terminals with various inclines, declines and puddles with over 60kilos of luggage is quite an exercise. (Apparently they don't have such lavish accommodations as an elevator or escalator. Apparently they don't have disabled people in the country. At least not the kind that travel or go outside of their home. Slight tangent here, but worth the mention.)
All of this was worth it, however, to see the smiles of my aunt and cousin as they were impatiently waiting for us, swiftly picking up all the bags and driving home. It was worth the excitement on my grandfather's face as he saw his daughter and granddaughter run out of the car to hug him. This home that I speak of, thousands of miles away from my actual home in NYC, is the home where my mom grew up, where I was born, where I spent most of my summers as a kid. Still same old home, courtyard, streets, trees, cars, pharmacies, bazaar, school, childhood friends and the people. A home that in a glimpse makes me feel like I just came back from a 15 year vacation. The only difference is the sea of outdoor advertising.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Rocking the oysters!
Wow, it has been a while since I last posted. Well, you know, LIFE
! The refresher, therefore, deserves a pretty special event.
I always imagined how one day, the renowned chef of a restaurant would come to my table and we would have a nice chat about the amazingness of his or her food preparation. The power of this imagination came true last night! “Uber chic and warm, Mehtaphor situated in Duane Street Hotel, poised to stand its own ground amidst the Manhattan skyline, for its eclectic cuisine and charming dining experience.” Right on target!
If you’re familiar at all with Iron Chef
programs, then Jehangir Mehta may be a household name. It was Jehangir that came to greet us and let us praise the multitude of zestiness in the flavors of his food. He is a Mumbai-born graduate of Culinary Institute of America playing in the competitive restaurateur world of New York City. It was a pleasure to meet him.
For the official restaurant review, I would not necessarily give the full 5 star rating. But this has to do more with the layout of the restaurant, rather than the food. Let’s just say that the intimacy and charm is probably more evident during night time, when you don’t have to look at feet of pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk. And if you think you hear elevator music during your dining experience, you’re probably right; the restaurant is practically the lobby of the hotel.
Aside from all that, the food was a true adventure! If you look at the description of the restaurant, you see a lot of “Asian” references, yet the menu includes ceviche, pizza, raw oysters, tres leches and much much more. Any foodie would appreciate the surprise and treasure hunt of guessing what’s in the food.
Pop rock oysters!
That is right, as in pop rock candy. Need I say more? Ok, lobster bloody Mary!
Or, truffle, crab and goat cheese pizza!
I would go back any day just to try the rest of the menu.
If you happened to come with a non-foodie, be prepared to hear “small plate” and “weird” every other dish. Keep in mind though that you’re always welcome to invite me and hear none of that!
! The refresher, therefore, deserves a pretty special event. I always imagined how one day, the renowned chef of a restaurant would come to my table and we would have a nice chat about the amazingness of his or her food preparation. The power of this imagination came true last night! “Uber chic and warm, Mehtaphor situated in Duane Street Hotel, poised to stand its own ground amidst the Manhattan skyline, for its eclectic cuisine and charming dining experience.” Right on target!
If you’re familiar at all with Iron Chef
programs, then Jehangir Mehta may be a household name. It was Jehangir that came to greet us and let us praise the multitude of zestiness in the flavors of his food. He is a Mumbai-born graduate of Culinary Institute of America playing in the competitive restaurateur world of New York City. It was a pleasure to meet him.For the official restaurant review, I would not necessarily give the full 5 star rating. But this has to do more with the layout of the restaurant, rather than the food. Let’s just say that the intimacy and charm is probably more evident during night time, when you don’t have to look at feet of pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk. And if you think you hear elevator music during your dining experience, you’re probably right; the restaurant is practically the lobby of the hotel.
Aside from all that, the food was a true adventure! If you look at the description of the restaurant, you see a lot of “Asian” references, yet the menu includes ceviche, pizza, raw oysters, tres leches and much much more. Any foodie would appreciate the surprise and treasure hunt of guessing what’s in the food.
Pop rock oysters!
That is right, as in pop rock candy. Need I say more? Ok, lobster bloody Mary!
Or, truffle, crab and goat cheese pizza!
I would go back any day just to try the rest of the menu.
If you happened to come with a non-foodie, be prepared to hear “small plate” and “weird” every other dish. Keep in mind though that you’re always welcome to invite me and hear none of that!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Atlantic City, the land of the creepy...
While I very much enjoyed my time with my friends in the historic Atlantic City, and its old and new resorts this past weekend, frankly I still find that the place is the epitome of creepiness.
Where do I start?
You know that you enter into a casino, any casino, old or new, from the millisecond of the time that the slot machine sounds take over your eardrums. Creepiness #1: somehow, unconsciously learning to tune out this sound during your entire time in the casino. You still manage to order drinks, chat with friends, or curse the slot machine as you lose another set of $20.
Moving along, as you sit down at a Black Jack table, you are greeted with a tray and a smile. The waitresses, again any casino, old or new, are ancient! Creepiness #2: Why do all the casino waitresses need to wear their underwear for the whole casino to see? Seriously, do those uniforms really make or break the extra buck that she might earn? For the record, why are they all female?!
How drunk do you want to get? If you’re ordering from the bar, and actually pay for the drink, then you might just get your typical buzz. Creepiness #3: If you order from the waitress, she might as well bring you orange/brownish looking water.
What time is it? The casino world may never know. Creepiness #4: Not only are there no clocks in the casino, but the lighting and general lack of windows, with good distance from any entrances makes it impossible to tell what time of day it is. I’m surprised no one confiscates watches or cell phones at the door. God forbid the patrons knew that they’ve spent a whole 5 hours at the table.
Where do they find these people? Creepiness #5: The patrons. They speak for themselves. It is the most eclectic mix of people, age, nationality and gross income. So at any given time you may be sitting between one of the cast members of the Golden Girls, a lady of the night on her midday shift, or a future Pulitzer Prize winner. Randomness is key to any casino marketing campaign.
What's your casino creepy moment?
Where do I start?
You know that you enter into a casino, any casino, old or new, from the millisecond of the time that the slot machine sounds take over your eardrums. Creepiness #1: somehow, unconsciously learning to tune out this sound during your entire time in the casino. You still manage to order drinks, chat with friends, or curse the slot machine as you lose another set of $20.
Moving along, as you sit down at a Black Jack table, you are greeted with a tray and a smile. The waitresses, again any casino, old or new, are ancient! Creepiness #2: Why do all the casino waitresses need to wear their underwear for the whole casino to see? Seriously, do those uniforms really make or break the extra buck that she might earn? For the record, why are they all female?!
How drunk do you want to get? If you’re ordering from the bar, and actually pay for the drink, then you might just get your typical buzz. Creepiness #3: If you order from the waitress, she might as well bring you orange/brownish looking water.
What time is it? The casino world may never know. Creepiness #4: Not only are there no clocks in the casino, but the lighting and general lack of windows, with good distance from any entrances makes it impossible to tell what time of day it is. I’m surprised no one confiscates watches or cell phones at the door. God forbid the patrons knew that they’ve spent a whole 5 hours at the table.
Where do they find these people? Creepiness #5: The patrons. They speak for themselves. It is the most eclectic mix of people, age, nationality and gross income. So at any given time you may be sitting between one of the cast members of the Golden Girls, a lady of the night on her midday shift, or a future Pulitzer Prize winner. Randomness is key to any casino marketing campaign.
What's your casino creepy moment?
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Lovely weather we're having...
Lovely indeed. Zero sarcasm. I swear.
Remember the days of 35F degree weather with freezing driplets attacking your face as you're trying to make it into the safe haven of a local Starbucks, or finally the lobby of the office building? Me neither!
It's May! Finally. I have been waiting for you for so long. The warm droplets of water from the sky do not phase me, as the temperature is still above 60F. I even purposefully forgot my umbrella and was left to fend for myself in my new raincoat (Purchased just for this exact occasion).
Sometimes I wish I lived in Northern California where it is Spring year- round. But then I remember that it is only a flight and a few hundred dollars away. I am truly an all four seasons person. Most of all, unsurprisingly, I adore Spring.
How can you not? Look at all the greens and pinks, yellows and purples all around you. Even the shoes, the shirts, the outfits and the umbrellas start to reflect some color.
A black silhouette, the unmistakable New York uniform, caves in. Perhaps it gets its inspiration from the lonely (from the winter cold) gray benches now sprinkled with pink hues of cherry blossom. The dampness of the rain makes the contrast even more vibrant.
Welcome May! New York City needs you; and I have truly missed you.
Remember the days of 35F degree weather with freezing driplets attacking your face as you're trying to make it into the safe haven of a local Starbucks, or finally the lobby of the office building? Me neither!
It's May! Finally. I have been waiting for you for so long. The warm droplets of water from the sky do not phase me, as the temperature is still above 60F. I even purposefully forgot my umbrella and was left to fend for myself in my new raincoat (Purchased just for this exact occasion).
Sometimes I wish I lived in Northern California where it is Spring year- round. But then I remember that it is only a flight and a few hundred dollars away. I am truly an all four seasons person. Most of all, unsurprisingly, I adore Spring.
How can you not? Look at all the greens and pinks, yellows and purples all around you. Even the shoes, the shirts, the outfits and the umbrellas start to reflect some color.
A black silhouette, the unmistakable New York uniform, caves in. Perhaps it gets its inspiration from the lonely (from the winter cold) gray benches now sprinkled with pink hues of cherry blossom. The dampness of the rain makes the contrast even more vibrant.
Welcome May! New York City needs you; and I have truly missed you.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
We, simply, rock!
How lucky I am to be surrounded by such powerful women
. And although I also have a number of male figures in my life that make it worth loving and living, this is not a contrast/compare note. It is a seize of a moment and a recognition of a more feminine nature. My mom and my friends, are simply and irrevocably awesome human beings. That's all.
This reminds me of an introduction to Kabbalah
event that I attended with a friend a few months ago. One thing that truly stayed with me from that event was the idea that women are a force of their own. I am reminded of that almost every single day.
Even if we are sad or scared, we can smile in a way that brightens up the day and makes it seem like anything is possible. We sacrifice for our parents, our children and our partners in crime. Even if we know the truth, we sometimes know it is better not to say anything about something that is false. We have unlimited reserves of energy and the sky is the limit ambitions, yet we have the patience to let our men do their own thing.
No matter how many hats we wear day-in and day-out we always manage to be able to fit in one more. Multi-tasking is an understatement. It's not just about what we do. It is the grace, the discretion and the force with which we do it.
Sometimes we admit it. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we realize it, but sometimes we don't. We gently persuade, flirt and ultimately strategize everything from a shopping spree, to our next promotion or nonprofit business venture. Most importantly, we do an amazing job with it.
I am proud because we, simply, rock.
. And although I also have a number of male figures in my life that make it worth loving and living, this is not a contrast/compare note. It is a seize of a moment and a recognition of a more feminine nature. My mom and my friends, are simply and irrevocably awesome human beings. That's all. This reminds me of an introduction to Kabbalah
event that I attended with a friend a few months ago. One thing that truly stayed with me from that event was the idea that women are a force of their own. I am reminded of that almost every single day. Even if we are sad or scared, we can smile in a way that brightens up the day and makes it seem like anything is possible. We sacrifice for our parents, our children and our partners in crime. Even if we know the truth, we sometimes know it is better not to say anything about something that is false. We have unlimited reserves of energy and the sky is the limit ambitions, yet we have the patience to let our men do their own thing.
No matter how many hats we wear day-in and day-out we always manage to be able to fit in one more. Multi-tasking is an understatement. It's not just about what we do. It is the grace, the discretion and the force with which we do it.
Sometimes we admit it. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we realize it, but sometimes we don't. We gently persuade, flirt and ultimately strategize everything from a shopping spree, to our next promotion or nonprofit business venture. Most importantly, we do an amazing job with it.
I am proud because we, simply, rock.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The smile vow.
A reminder (to self mostly). If you put positive energy and smiling attitudes out into the universe, what may actually happen is the same burst to the power of a multiple multiples in return.
Who said that 1+1=2? :)
Mathematics aside. Philosophies neatly sitting to the left. Psychology lightly nudging from the back. Medicine being a whole different universe -- happiness, brought on by smiling, can be and should be viral.
I enjoy smiling. It is a simple physical act that has limitless power. It can vary from an emergence of dimples, to a full-on showing of pearly whites. We see it, we know it, it comes naturally. We don't need a textbook or a manual to tell us how to do it.
Early in the morning as you're making your short trip from the subway to the office, it can set the state of mind for the rest of the day. Usually the sun reaching through the empty spaces between the buildings, the branches and the leaves makes it all too easy. The sun rays play hide and seek with you as you're walking through the City Hall Park
. How can you not smile?
Late in the evening after a stressful, one of those days, day it can make you forget about all your troubles. The prompt may be a glimpse of a moment as a couple is reaching to hold each other's hand. It may be the tiny little fingers of your soon to be toddler that grip your neck with as much strength and excitement as they can, because they missed you after a full day's activities.
A smile has the power to cure and the power to enforce. It has a tendency to spread, rapidly. It trenscends cultural, national, religious and personal barriers. You can see it as you pass a Coca Cola
sign in the middle of a dirt road through the jungles, forests and mountains of Costa Rica
. It creeps up on you as you watch GREEN M&M in action on television during Super Bowl. Next time you're at an airport, hesitate for an observation of the arrivals lounge. You'll be sure to see smiling faces as they've found familiar faces coming out of baggage claim.
Smile today! I bet you'll get a smile in return.
Who said that 1+1=2? :)
Mathematics aside. Philosophies neatly sitting to the left. Psychology lightly nudging from the back. Medicine being a whole different universe -- happiness, brought on by smiling, can be and should be viral.
I enjoy smiling. It is a simple physical act that has limitless power. It can vary from an emergence of dimples, to a full-on showing of pearly whites. We see it, we know it, it comes naturally. We don't need a textbook or a manual to tell us how to do it.
Early in the morning as you're making your short trip from the subway to the office, it can set the state of mind for the rest of the day. Usually the sun reaching through the empty spaces between the buildings, the branches and the leaves makes it all too easy. The sun rays play hide and seek with you as you're walking through the City Hall Park
. How can you not smile? Late in the evening after a stressful, one of those days, day it can make you forget about all your troubles. The prompt may be a glimpse of a moment as a couple is reaching to hold each other's hand. It may be the tiny little fingers of your soon to be toddler that grip your neck with as much strength and excitement as they can, because they missed you after a full day's activities.
A smile has the power to cure and the power to enforce. It has a tendency to spread, rapidly. It trenscends cultural, national, religious and personal barriers. You can see it as you pass a Coca Cola
sign in the middle of a dirt road through the jungles, forests and mountains of Costa Rica. It creeps up on you as you watch GREEN M&M in action on television during Super Bowl. Next time you're at an airport, hesitate for an observation of the arrivals lounge. You'll be sure to see smiling faces as they've found familiar faces coming out of baggage claim.Smile today! I bet you'll get a smile in return.
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