The Sonoran Desert

Saguaro National Monument Visitor Center

A cactus "skeleton"

At Organ Pipe Visitor Center

We drove about an hour and a half to go to the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, which is designated as a UNESCO biosphere reserve. The Park Ranger explained that it is a very unique area, where animals and plants need to withstand extreme temperatures in order to survive. Outside the visitor center, there was a plaque that said, "if patience is a virtue, then the desert is virtuous". All of the plants and animals are always patiently waiting, for rain, transportation, or some opportunity, which they seize to quickly "live their lives", and then return to patiently waiting. One plant, called the Octochillo, looks like a bunch of dead thorny branches because it uses only its bark for photosynthesis. When rain comes, within 48 hours all the branches sprout leaves and sometimes, little red flowers that look like candle flames. 

This area of Tucson is famous for the saguaro cacti. Apparently it is illegal to kill them, a law put in place because people used to get drunk and then shoot the cacti so that they would fall over. Several of these drunks would also get injured in the process. One guy was upset that a cactus did not fall over after he shot it, so he went and kicked it, then a 500 pound branch of the cactus fell on him. They do not look like they would be so heavy, but the skeleton of the cactus actually looks just like a tree. The green flesh and spines surround wood. 

There are 28 species of cacti in this reserve. The saguaro look like the cacti you commonly see on TV, one giant tube with a few other tubes coming out like arms from the top. The organ pipe cactus looks like an organ pipe--many thinner tubes coming from the ground like a fan. I didn't get the names of all the cacti, but there were a lot of different types. Some were small and fuzzy, and others were squat and round. In some areas, it looked like we were on the ocean floor, since the plants looked more like corals  because they were dry and hard. There is an endangered fish called the pupfish that managed to survive since this area actually used to be ocean. It lives in puddles, and moves slowly; they look like bottom feeders. They are endangered because the puddles often dry up, and they die. 

Since we had time, we also went to Saguaro Cactus State Park, which had a lot of really large cacti, and some nice scenic drives. 

Since this area is close to the Mexican border, there are quite a few checkpoints. It wasn't difficult for us, since they just asked if we were all US citizens, and then let us through. There were signs though, asking you to report illegal activity if you see it. 

Tucson, Arizona

I arrived in Tucson, Arizona, at around 11:00 in the morning. We had a great lunch in downtown Tucson, at the Little One. They serve Mexican food, including fresh juice. The four of us got their surprise platters, which are a sample of all the dishes that they have available. The owner is a very friendly lady who speaks Spanish, and says goodbye to all her customers with a hug. There is even a sign that says "hugs are mandatory". Among the sample of dishes we had, my favorites were the creamy chicken soup, the chipotle sauce, and the sweet corn tamale. The chicken mole and beef dishes were good too. 

We rented an Airbnb ranch, called the homestead. It's not a convenient location, but it is a beautiful, peaceful area. The owners are bird watchers, so there are elaborate bird feeders all over the property, some filled with types of insects, others with fruits, and others with seeds. You can watch the birds from the wide Windows, which also face east so you can see the sunrise.

The desert is quite chilly (though warm compared to New York), so the gas run fireplace is great to have at night.

We went on a scenic drive up amount Lemmon. Tucson is surrounded by purple mountains, which could have inspired that line about "purple mountains majesty". The landscape changes dramatically as you ascend. It's so cold that you see snow, and then more woody trees. 

The view from the top of the mountain is beautiful. I travelled so much internationally that I sometimes forget how stunning America really is. The long expanse of desert and the towering mountains is a reminder that, despite how urban and industrialized the coasts are, there is still this wild heartland that is largely untouched.

Scandinavia House

I have been working at the United Nations for quite some time now, but about a month ago, I visited the Scandinavia House for the first time. It isn't connected to the United Nations at all, but I was surprised that I hadn't noticed it before, given the amount of time that I spend in the neighborhood.

I was introduced to it because I started knitting recently, and every two weeks, there is a knitting club that meets at the Scandinavia House. Wine and snacks are provided, and a very nice group of people gather there with their projects. I even saw one woman who was spinning her own yarn, which inspired me to try to learn that too. Apparently, in the old days, single women would spin yarn for a living, hence the term "spinster". I bought a drop spindle, and it has been pretty difficult so far, but I'm hoping that I will get the hang of it soon.

After attending the knitting club, I was placed on their mailing list, and found out that an author I really like, Fredrik Backman, was going to do an interview and a book signing there. His most famous book is "A Man Called Ove", which was recently made into a film and might be up for an Oscar. I have not read it yet, but I did read "My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry," and liked it very much. That book is about a young girl named Elsa, who has trouble fitting in at school and making friends. She is very close to her grandma, who is her hero in many ways, but her grandmother passes away from cancer. After the grandma's death, she leaves Elsa a bunch of letters, with a mission to deliver them to people that she wants to apologize to. In the process of delivering the letters, Elsa encounters new friends, and comes to understand other loved ones in her life in a new way.

Someone asked Backman how he was able to write the character of a 7 year old girl so well. He replied that he did not write the character with a particular gender in mind, rather he just wrote as a 7 year old child, since 7 year old boys and girls are not so different. He said that as a child, he was very lonely and often bullied, and identified with Elsa in many ways.

The characters in his books are usually quite complex. Ove apparently, is a grouchy man. Backman said that when he began writing that book, he started by collecting articles of ridiculous things that people did, such as an old man who sued a zoo because they advertised that you could "play with the monkeys", and in reality, you cannot actually play with the monkeys because they are in a cage. He said, "think about the biggest jerks that you might meet. At then end of the day, these jerks go home, and there is someone who loves them. There is someone who thinks they are great." For the zoo example, he mentioned that the old man who sued was in his 60s, so he must have gone to the zoo with his grandchildren, and one of the grandchildren must have gotten upset about not actually being able to play with the monkeys. Backman further adds that, "if someone is a jerk, but they make you laugh, you are still going to like them." His books introduce a character that seems like a jerk, but then throughout the book, you realize that you like them anyway. You start to understand their motives and emotions, and then they don't seem so awful after all.

His books have an interesting way of dealing with very heavy topics, such as the death of a grandmother, in a light hearted way that can make you laugh.

Backman's new book, which is due to be translated into English soon, is called Beartown. It is a small town in Sweden that is obsessed with their hockey team, and this boy who is a great hockey star grew up with everyone telling him he would save the town. Then, he commits a horrible crime (either rape or sexual assault), and the entire town is divided over what to do about it, with most of the town siding with the boy. According to Backman, this book is meant to explore what we, as people, are willing to forgive some people for, just because they are really good at one particular thing. We see this in the news all the time, with light sentences, or no sentences, being given to male athletes because the judges don't want to "ruin their lives".

The interview with Backman was funny and very insightful. He said that he thinks of himself as a good storyteller, not necessarily a good writer. Using music as an example, he said, some people are great songwriters, but not very good at playing instruments. Others are great at playing instruments, but cannot write songs. In some artists, these two skills overlap, just as it does for some writers. But he maintains that he does not consider himself a good writer, and is working on improving his writing. Apparently, he wanted to be a writer since he was a child. He was awkward and had trouble communicating, so he liked writing because you can erase and edit. If he fought with his dad, he would leave a letter for his dad on the counter, and in the next morning, he would find his dad's written reply. He claims that today, they still communicate mostly this way.

Backman's wife is Iranian, which was part of the inspiration for the neighbors in a Man Called Ove. Someone in the audience asked if Ove was against immigrants, and whether he changes this view at the end of the book. Backman explained that some critics described Ove as a racist, which he was not happy with, because he did not think Ove was a racist at the end of the book, or at the beginning of the book, rather Ove just hates everyone, regardless of race.

At the end of the interview, there were books available for purchase, which Backman then signed. I bought two books, including the one about Elsa and her Grandmother. When signing it, he drew a picture of what I thought was a big shaggy dog. "The wurse is not a dog," he said. In the book, the "wurse", which looks like a large shaggy dog, eats chocolate. "I got so many angry letters about how I was irresponsible in telling children to feed dogs chocolate, and I had to say to them that the wurse is not a dog! That's why he can eat chocolate."

I plan to read a Man Called Ove in the coming weeks.

Ciate

Three great things happened to me this week.

First, I found out that my living room heat is connected to my roommate's heat, so I can warm up the room by turning on the heat in his room. During the past few weeks, I was left with the choice of being warm in my own room and watching TV on an 11 inch laptop, or being cold and watching the large screen TV (which belongs to my roommate) in the living room. Now I can have my cake and eat it two.

Second, I went to a really great book signing event, which will be a separate post.

Third, I bought myself a Christmas present. I think perhaps people do this already, but if they do not, I highly recommend buying yourself a Christmas gift too. I love advent calendars, and over the past few years, I would buy the traditional advent calendars, that have chocolate inside. For those unfamiliar with advent calendars, they are the best. They should just have a 365 day advent calendar. Typically however, advent calendars are only for the month of December, and are a count down until Christmas day. It is usually made of cardboard, with little doors to represent the 25 days of December up until Christmas. Each day, you open a door, and get a small chocolate. I used to keep one in the office, so that when I went in on Monday (the most difficult day of the week), I would have Saturday's, Sunday's, AND Monday's chocolate waiting for me. Usually, the door to 25 is extra large and has an exceptionally large piece of chocolate inside. For any advent calendar newbies, I believe Trader Joe's sells 99 cent advent calendars which are really nice.

I've been trying to do less online shopping, but I got a special gift card from Sephora, and it seemed a waste to not use it, so I decided to buy myself a gift. Originally I was going to buy something practical, like face lotion or sunscreen, but then I saw this nail polish advent calendar by Ciate.

I don't usually use nail polish, mainly because I read that it is bad for your nails (just from the smell, it seems obvious that it's pretty toxic and probably not something you should be putting on your body, including your nails), but also because I do a lot with my hands, and usually can't keep a manicure for more than five days.

Growing up however, my grandmother was obsessed with nail polish. I don't think I have ever seen her without nail polish. The few times I saw her natural nails were in between polish changes. To her, having her nails painted was like putting on clothes. She simply didn't walk around with naked nails. Back in her day, the fashion was to have the nails filed a bit pointy, and it was unheard of to use colors other than red. We discussed this, because I had a blue nail polish, which she thought was not worthy of existing let alone garnishing anyone's fingers. She really liked to layer multiple colors, so she really would have loved a brand like Ciate, that has tutorials on layering colors or adding glitter.

I got the set a few days ago, and pretty much opened every box the same day. I guess that's also why I had such a good week--I opened 25 days worth of little surprises in less than 25 minutes.

The colors are diverse, and all very beautiful. What I liked the most though, was that each box had a nice drawing or a whimsical quote on it. For example:

"The most alluring thing a woman can have is confidence." - Beyonce

"Be a first rate version of yourself instead of a second rate version of somebody else" - Judy Garland

"It always seems impossible until it is done."

Nothing mind blowing, just small simple words (that I suppose are meant to brighten each day, but again I opened it all at once). All of the nail polishes are small, except for the 25th, which is full sized. Since I don't use that much polish, I gave a few boxes to friends as Christmas gifts, and they seemed to enjoy them.

If anyone is looking for a great gift for Christmas, I would highly recommend it (provided the recipient doesn't mind that it is an advent calendar.

American Football

This past weekend, I went to my first football game. We had decided to go because we went to an alumni event, which was a tailgate party for the Columbia vs. UPenn college football game. Apparently, Columbia has the longest losing streak in the Ivy League. Ever the optimist, I hoped that they would win, but it ended up being a pretty sad game, with neither side doing particularly well, and the end result being a contest of which was slightly less bad than the other one. The highlight of the game was the Columbia Marching Band, which performed renditions of several pop songs. A man in the stand grumbled, "I've been watching four years of this crap." His son is on the team, so he felt particularly invested. It's okay though; Columbia University excels at many things, and we simply have to accept that football is not one of them.

At the end of the game, I told my boyfriend that I wanted to watch a game in which the team I was rooting for would actually do well. That led to us buying tickets to see the Patriots play against the Jets in New Jersey. As a Bostonian, I still have an alliance to the Patriots, even though I have been living in New York for seven years.

The Patriots have been doing pretty well this season, so I was hopeful. As we walked into the stadium, they were handing out white and green pom poms for the jets fans. My boyfriend grabbed some, and my reaction was, "but we aren't Jets fans." He replied that it was okay, but when I saw the red and blue dressed patriots fan walk by, I felt like it was inappropriate so we returned them.

There seemed to be a good mix of fans in the area where we sat. The Jets started off with a three point lead, and for some reason, my boyfriend started cheering. "Stop rooting for the enemy!" I said.

At first I thought he was just going along with the crowd, but finally he turned to me and confessed, "I really hate the Patriots."

So sad, the things you begin to find out about people as you are dating them.

"What??" I said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you wouldn't have let me come to this game!" Which might be true. Apparently he (and some other people) are still mad about that whole ball deflating thing during the Super Bowl.

I briefly considered moving down to sit with a group of Patriots fans, but ended up staying where I was.

The stadium was really cold, but luckily I dressed like I would be visiting the Arctic, so I was okay. When the Jets scored a touchdown, green fireworks erupted over the stadium. "That's nice," I remarked. "Do they do that throughout the game?"

"Only when the Jets score."

Well I guess I couldn't be rooting for any fireworks anymore. I reminded myself to watch a home game next time.

Toward the fourth quarter, the Jets were leading by one point. I was unhappy, and briefly thought that I might be bad luck for the team, because every time I attend a love sports event, my team loses (granted, the only three live events I attended were Columbia University's). "This is better though," my boyfriend said, trying to cheer me up. "It would be boring if one team was just crushing the other one. Don't you think it's more interesting when it's a close game?"

"Of course not," I replied. "I prefer assured victory."

It was the 10th anniversary of the Jets "flight crew", which is what they call their cheerleaders, so there were a lot of dance performances, which were fun. Probably cold though--they were wearing their belly baring uniforms, and it was so cold there that I had snow pants on.

In the end, the Patriots won by one extra touchdown. The Jets fans were really sad, and left the stadium early.  

Sandy and the Butterflies

I knew this day would come, and that it would be difficult, but I was still overwhelmed by the extent of grief and despair that I felt.

On November 10, 2016, I had to put my dog, Sandy, to sleep. She was 15 years old, and had been suffering from heart disease and kidney disease for some time. It started with a level 2 heart murmur about two or three years ago, and was aggravated over the past year by the loss of her companion, Rocky, and undergoing anesthesia to have two rotten teeth removed. I think now that, given the choice, I might have avoided the tooth surgery, though she also had dental disease.

The difference, for me at least, when losing a pet, is the self blame and the guilt that accompanies it. Human beings, except for children, usually make their own medical decisions. We may grieve their loss, but have the comfort of knowing that it is not our fault. For pet owners, it is not uncommon to relive those last moments and think, maybe I should have tried this remedy--or maybe what I tried was the wrong remedy. Soon, you have a chain of "maybe"s and "but if"s that snowball and exacerbate an already painful situation.

I suppose that, had I chosen not to go with the tooth surgery, maybe she would have had and infection, and maybe the antibiotics would also have damaged her kidneys (which is what the vet advised, and perhaps might be true). In her last moments however, I couldn't help but feel that I should have known better, for that and for other small things here and there.

Our family got Sandy when I was in high school, as a companion for our dog Rocky. I had actually been opposed to getting a second dog, but Sandy ended up being my closest companion. I remember the moment in which I knew that Sandy was MY dog: we had been on a road trip somewhere, and while I was driving, Sandy would always try to sit in my lap. I assumed that she just wanted to sit with the driver. However, when we switched and I sat in the back seat, Sandy leaped out from the front, and the curled into a ball on my lap.

Since then, Sandy and I have been very close. She used to sleep in my bed with me, and our constant argument was over the fact that she would like to sleep under the covers, with her face on the pillow--I would tell her that she had to sleep on top of the covers, at the foot of the bed. As soon as I would move from the bed however, she would resume her preferred position. As I moved around the house, there was also the familiar tinkling of her collar tags as she trotted behind me, and when I turned to look at her, she would wag her tail as if to say, "don't worry, I'm here".

She had the most expressive tail of any dog that I have seen. Whenever we came home, Sandy would be overcome with excitement, her tail waving frantically like a welcome banner. She would pick up the nearest object--a toy or a shoe--and hold in it in her mouth while making this strange noise that I have never heard another dog make. Later, when I would return to California from school, I would anticipate seeing her. It was usually the moment that I looked forward to the most, and came to associate with "home".

After Rocky passed away, I made the decision to take Sandy to New York with me. Since she was older, she didn't run around as much, and probably would not mind the smaller space. The idea had been that she live the last of her life with me, since we were the closest.

I was probably in denial of the severity of her sickness for a long time. I even imagined that she could make it to 17 years of age. I had to put her on medicine for her heart, supplements for kidneys, as well as for her joints, which had become twisted with age and arthritis. When I look back, I can see her decline. She began to eat less, volume wise, and then she refused to eat certain types of dog food. Finally, she would only eat human food. I thought it was because I was spoiling her, but since she was old, I went ahead and cooked her food anyhow, since I wanted her to enjoy the remainder of her life. She then stopped eating anything that wasn't meat. Then anything that wasn't fat. Then anything that wasn't chicken. The last thing that she had been willing to eat was chicken skin, before she stopped eating entirely.

I knew she was dying.

I dropped everything and we got on a flight to California, so that she could at least have that last happiness of seeing her old home, and my parents and brother, who she also loved. I could tell that she felt more at peace, with all four of us around her.

Those last days were so difficult. Watching something you love suffer--whether human or animal--is a heavy burden to bear. I tried to feed her with a syringe, but to no avail. The anxiety of holding onto those last threads of hope--that maybe she might eat again--and then the despair upon realizing that there was no hope--tore me apart.

The decision to put her to sleep then, was a clear one.

Pets provide us with a constant, simple and predictable form of companionship. They don't judge us for not going to the gym, or getting a bad grade, or any of the other faults we may have. They ask for nothing more than our presence. When I lost Sandy, the first feeling was loneliness. My little shadow was gone.

Queen Elizabeth II said, "grief is the price we pay for love." So you can imagine, given the enormous amount of love that Sandy was able to give to and elicit from me over an extended period of time, the grief hit me like a tsunami.

I felt lost.

I am thankful that I had my family there. We drove to some beautiful places, though on the first day, I couldn't help but question how the world could still be so beautiful, and the sky so blue, when I was feeling so horrible.

A few days later, we decided to go to Carmel-by-the-sea, a beautiful little coastal town full of unique but over-priced goods. On the way however, my brother mentioned that the Monarch butterflies were migrating to Natural Bridges Park, in Santa Cruz. Since it was on the way, we decided to stop by.

The butterflies arrive from October to December, with the peak being late November. As we walked down the trail however, we only saw a small cluster of what appeared to be six butterflies. It was still cold and foggy, so my brother suggested that the butterflies are not opening their wings, because they are cold. When their wings are closed, they look like dead leaves, and it is nearly impossible to see them in the trees. It matched how I felt.

We left to walk along the beach. Before I knew it, the sun had come out, and it wasn't so cold. My brother suggested going back to the butterfly trail. I was skeptical though, since I imagined that we might have just come at a bad time.

As we walked back however, I saw that he was right. Indeed, butterflies had taken flight. Under the canopy, some people lay on the backs and watched them flutter above. They would open and close their wings and you would see a bright flash of orange, like the trees were winking. It was then that I started to really understand that life goes on.

One of the ladies lying down said, "if everyone here gets really quiet, thousands of butterflies will open their wings, and it's like a miracle." She insisted that it would happen, and that it was worth waiting for. It was yet another thing I was skeptical of, mainly because there were several children who were stomping around the board walk. Nevertheless, I lay there on the ground, and watched the trees. The lady would shush people intermittently. I'm not sure how long it was, but I decided to give up. As I was walking away however, it happened. Like an orange cloud, they suddenly took flight, like God or some higher power decided to throw confetti into the air.

It reminded me that even in the worst of times, you have to have faith in the good and the beauty that exists in this world. I figured that, if thousands of butterflies can find their way back to this one canopy in Santa Cruz, then my Sandy can find her way to where she is supposed to be, after this life.

Of course I am still sad; I still miss her, and will continue to miss her for the rest of my life. But, I can start to feel happy again, and continue living my life. When I look back, more often than not, I start to think less of those last moments when she was so sick, and more of the many, many good times that we had--of that trip we took to the lake, when she was so happy walking by the bank that she even stepped into the water to play; of her excitement when she got a new toy; of when she played in the snow for the first time; of the trips to the beach, and rides in the car when she would stick her head out the window and sniff the air; of how she would play with her food and treats by throwing them into the air and chasing them like a cat; of how enthusiastically and happily she welcomed me, every time I went back home.

I will always be grateful for the time that we had together. 

Henlopen State Park

About two hours south of Wilmington Delaware, there are a bunch of beaches. We decided to check out Henlopen State Park, which is supposedly quiet and dog friendly. After a big breakfast of pancakes and sausages, everyone piled into the car, and we drove south, stopping for fried chicken along the way.

We were about to open the chicken in the car, but we barely popped the corner of the box and the two dogs went wild, so we had to save it. 

Henlopen State Park has a main beach that does not allow dogs until end of September, and another beach where fishermen go, which does allow dogs on leashes, though in practice all the dogs are roaming free. On that beach, people drove their SUVs and jeeps directly onto the beach, cast their rods and then stuck them in the sand and say and waited. 

"We don't want to let the fishing disturb our vacation," one man said, as he reclined next to his rod. In about 30 minutes though, his rod had bent over, and he grabbed, and reeled in a large, silvery fish! Our Samoyed promptly lunged at it and tried to eat it, but the man took it off the hook and threw it back into the sea, while the dog looked despondently. "I'm sorry I threw your fish back," he said. "Would he have actually eaten it?" He then asked us. 

Probably not--but he would have picked up the poor thing and shaken it until it died of fear or suffocation. 

It was a perfect day at the beach--warm but not too hot. The water was nice, but the waves were strong. Both the Samoyed and I got bowled over by the waves more than once. I ended up with some scratches from the debris of seashells that was churned up by the water. 

Since we were close to Rehoboth, we stopped by the purple parrot for dinner. They were having a dog friendly happy our to benefit the Delaware Humane Society, so a lot of four legged friends were present.

Minnewaska State Park

We decided to return to the Hudson Valley area, this time for hiking and apple picking with a large group of friends. Seven of us shared an airbnb near Brown's Pond. The airbnb listing had a fireplace, so we made s'mores the first evening. We had a German and a Japanese person in our group, who had never heard of the concept of s'mores before. I guess s'mores, along with macaroni and cheese, are a very American food.

I don't think I am a person that naturally likes camping, but since I went as a child, I enjoy camping related activities that remind me of my childhood. This was a wonderful compromise--we stayed in a nice house in the woods, and got to roast things over a fire.

We went to a small State Park nearby, though I don't remember the name, and then back to Minnewaska State Park. This time, I hiked the longer trail, around the lake. It takes about an hour, but it is a very quiet and peaceful trail. It was even more beautiful than the last time we went, because the leaves had begun to change. It's a pity that the fall foliage this year has not been as bright because of the drought.

After a long hike, we went back to that German restaurant, Mountain Brauhaus Restaurant, and had pretzels and beer. My German friend, who was initially skeptical, agreed that the pretzels there were even better than the ones in Germany, and the best pretzel that he has had in his life.

The next day, we went apple picking at Prospect Hill Orchards. My favorite apples, Fuji, were in season. We picked a bunch and later, back in New York, I made apple pie with them. The best apple pie recipe, in my experience, is called Grandma Oppal's apple pie (something like that)--I found it online, and it has become a classic. I adapted it a bit, as follows:

Using a 9 inch pie pan, put in pie crust. I've made my own pie crust before, but now I decided it's really not worth the effort, so I usually just buy a premade crust.

Peel and cut up enough apples (I used a combo of Golden Delicious and Fuji) to fill the crust with a slight mound.

In a small pan, melt one stick of butter (I think that's half a cup), with 3/4 cup of white sugar, 1/4 cup of maple syrup, about a teaspoon of vanilla extract, a tablespoon of bourbon, and a tablespoon of flour, to thicken. Heat, stirring a lot, until it gets very bubbly and hot.

Pour this hot mixture over the apples. Then, cover with another pie crust, and poke holes in the crust. Alternatively, and this is my preference, if you have time, make a lattice crust, and then pour the liquid mixture over the lattice crust onto the apples.

Put in the over, at 415 degrees for 15 minutes, then lower the temperature to 350 degrees for another 45 minutes or so. You can tell it is ready by looking at the crust.

It is very good with ice cream.

Accord

For Labor Day weekend, we went to Accord, which is near the Catskills. I'm hoping to go again when the leaves turn color, though I heard that this year we may lose that stage, due to the lack of rain and climate anomalies due to global warming. The leaves will supposedly turn from green to brown. In any case, we wanted to spend a weekend on a farm, and do some hiking. 

We have two dogs with us, a one year old Samoyed, and a nearly 15 year old Pekingese poodle mix that I have had since I was fifteen--for half my life! Travelling with dogs presents some challenges, but there actually are a lot of dog friendly options. Especially in summer, many places have out door seating and it's nice to sit outside with your pet. 

We stayed on a farm, which had horses, goats and dogs roaming free. The Samoyed, Max, tried to play with the goats, but the goat wanted to fight. In the end they collided and the goat bleated a resounding "meeeeeeeehhhhhh!!!" And that was the end of that. It's a great place for kids, but maybe not the best for playful dogs. 

Minnewaska State Park has lots of paved trails, and if great for hiking. Due to the drought, the waterfall was just a trickle, but we were able to walk along the riverbed. The paved roads are great for people with strollers or wheel chairs, and are generally easier to walk on. 

The highlight of the trip for me was a restaurant called Mountain Brauhaus, a German restaurant with a great view of the mountains and outdoor seating. We went with the two dogs and had really good beer, and the best pretzel that I have had in my life. You can order a cheese dip with it. I also had beer battered bratwurst, which comes with sauerkraut. Since we went around sunset, we had a really nice view of the sky. 

Sylvan Lake

I went to Sylvan Lake for a weekend, in upstate New York. Recently, I've been turning to airbnb first whenever I travel, mainly because I am usually travelling with two dogs, and it's easier to find dog friendly places there than through hotels. An added benefit however, is that there is a lot more charm to these private rentals. You can see the personality of the people who set up the room, apartment, or house, and it really does add to the visit. Plus, most air bnb rentals have access to a kitchen, so you can cook if you want to.

The bungalow that we rented is right next to the lake, and included oars and life jackets to use with the canoes. We took the two dogs to the lake, and they loved it. My dog Sandy even got into the water.

In my 20s, I traveled a lot internationally. I have taken a break from that since I brought my dog, Sandy, home with me in July. She is turning 15, and has been with me for half my life. I've decided to not take any trips without her for the remainder of her life, with the exception of trips that I have to take for work. Thus, recently I have been taking weekend trips to places within driving distance. It's really nice to be able to get away from the city. I realize that I took the greenery for granted as a kid, growing up in the suburbs. Now, I don't really care where I go, as long as its quiet, not crowded, and close to nature. Upstate New York has a lot of good options.

The weekend was a good example of a simple thing done perfectly. I've noticed more of these perfect simple things lately. For example, today I had the perfect spaghetti with tomato basil sauce. The pasta was done perfectly (a little on the harder side), and the basil was added late so the flavor was really strong. I've realized the trick is to heat olive oil on the stove until it's really hot, and pour it over a bowl of garlic, so the garlic is cooked but not all the way, so you retain a bit of the spiciness from the garlic. Then topped with some fresh grated Parmesan cheese. It's not a complicated dish, but when every element is done exactly how you like it, it can make your day.

In any case, we spent the weekend ordering Chinese food delivery (Americanized Chinese food), watching TV, and walking along the lake. Nothing too exciting or elaborate planned, but it was a much needed time to recharge from the craziness of living and working in Manhattan. For that weekend, time slowed down a bit.

November

I rarely write about political issues, since so much of my daily job involves political issues, so in my free time, I usually like to take a break from it. But I need to say something about Donald Trump.

As a Chinese-American and daughter of immigrants, I have been disheartened to see the amount of support that Trump has garnered.

When he talks about “making America great again”, he means let’s make America white again. Specifically, her means let’s go back to the days when things were easier for white men, when there was less competition in the job market from women and people of other races, and it was okay to “tell it like it is” and make broad, nasty judgments on entire groups of people.

As a child, my mom told me about my dad’s interview for a Ph.D. program with the University of Pennsylvania, in molecular biology, when he was explicitly asked, “why should we give this position to you? You aren’t American, and there are many Americans applying for this position.” His answer had been that, “Even though I’m not American, my work is going to belong to the United States.” In the decade or two since my parents finished school, they have worked for several different pharmaceutical companies and helped develop drugs that save lives, or improve people’s quality of life. They have worked on drugs that treat breast cancer, colon cancer, bladder cancer, multiple sclerosis, leukemia, and asthma, to name a few.

If you’ve ever had a Hepatitis B vaccine, you can thank my mom.

America is one of the most powerful countries because it is at the forefront of science and technology. It is great, because it is a country that draws the most brilliant minds from around the world, and gives them the resources and opportunities to make miracles. I grew up going to the labs that my parents worked in, and they were as diverse as the United Nations, racially and religiously. If it were up to Trump, half of those people probably wouldn’t be allowed in the country.

Trump and his supporters might emphasize that they are okay with useful immigrants (especially models), but that we need to keep out the Latino “thugs” that are raping and stealing and causing crimes. And we have to keep out the Muslims, since all they do is blow things up. And the Chinese are problematic, because they are taking our jobs. Since it’s so hard to filter the good from the bad, we should just go ban them all. I have no doubt that, should there be a war between China and the United States, that Trump would advocate putting people like me into concentration camps, like we did to the Japanese in World War II (back when America was “great”).

One of my favorite classes in law school was “the law of genocide”. Scholars today have studied what drives humans to the point of madness that triggers the brutality of Rwanda and Auschwitz. Few people walk onto a platform and explicitly say, “let’s round up all people X and put them in a camp and kill them.” It starts with a seed. It starts with the notion of us versus them, it starts with “let’s build a wall”, and starts escalating to “fuck that nigger”, phrases which have both been shouted at Trump rallies. It starts with finding a scape goat for the entire country’s troubles and woes.

Trump has instigated and encouraged unabashed, vitriolic hate for entire groups of people. Trump is the American Hitler of the new millennium.

Now quite a few people say that if Trump actually became President, he probably wouldn’t be so extreme. That he is “just talk”. That we have a system of checks and balances too, that can prevent him from being a total nut case. All that is irrelevant to me. Trump has, through his own rhetoric and action, become a symbol of hatred and intolerance.

As someone who works in international relations, I recognize the President of my country is our representative to the rest of the world. By electing him as our President, we are saying, to ourselves and to everyone else, that we endorse all of the hatred that has been spewing from his mouth. That we accept, and even support, his racism, his sexism, his bigotry and xenophobia. To my fellow Americans, a vote for Trump or, effectively, anything except for a vote for Clinton, is a tip of the hat to the people who threw a brick through my friend’s window with the word “chink” on it and the woman who yelled at me to “go back to my country”.

Let Brexit be a lesson that silence is consent.

I plan to do everything in my power to prevent this person from becoming the representative of my country for the next four years. I hope you will too.

Big Sur and California Love

I went back to California to visit my family, and also bring my dog Sandy home. 

I would say that California is the most beautiful State in the continental US. Last time I visited, I went to LA for a wedding. I didn't realize that I had forgotten to write about that here. The wedding was for two of my friends from law school. The bride chose peonies as her bouquet, which, since a painting I did of peonies, has become my favorite flower. 

The bride is Korean and the groom is Chinese, so they did a Korean ceremony, Chinese, and western one. The Chinese tradition (which I didn't know about) had the young couple offer tea to their elders. For the Korean one, the groom has to carry the brides mom on his back and walk around a table, to thank her for raising his wife. Then he has to carry his wife, and then his own mom, around the same table. 

There were three outfits. The main ceremony, which was held in a botanical garden south of LA, had the bride wearing white. It was beautifully done. After the ceremony, the party was in a garden area, with Christmas lights. Food trucks from in and out burger and Korilla were there, and there was a dance floor. It got a bit cold, but it was so nice to have the dance party outdoors. The bride, who was raised by her mom and grandma, had said to the groom that she knew he was the one when she asked him if he could love her mom and grandma as his own, and he said yes. The groom said he loved how the bride was so caring, and when someone broke his toe during basketball, she threatened to go look for the perpetrator and stab him. Their vows were really cute, and it's a reminder that it's often such small things, or unexpected things, that can touch people and make them feel loved. 

This time in California, we drove south to Big Sur. Big Sur is so pretty. Despite how developed California is, when you drive along route one, there is something very wile looking about it. I know it's not the case, but the California coast looks like it has been untouched. I hope that we do a better job to protect the earth that we live on, because I do hope that if I have children, they will be able to enjoy such a beautiful view too. 

The coasts curve, and the water glitters under the sun, a deep blue green that looks unreal--as though someone turned up the "saturation" meter to maximum. There are many hiking trails, but we only did a few. 

Pride Parade 2016

I usually don't like to talk about politics in this blog, but given the past year, I suppose it's inevitable. What continues to baffle me about the US is the gun violence. I recall one article from the Onion, which said something along the lines of, "there is no way to stop this from happening, says the only country where this keeps happening."

People continually cite the second amendment, the right to bear arms, as critical to this country--to protecting democracy and freedom. Especially in light of America's independence having been gained through a war (though this is also the case for many other countries), there is supposedly a fear that we may need to defend ourselves in case the government crosses a line (i.e. turns into a tyranny or dictatorship). I don't think that argument has merit, because should some crazy dictator take over the government and have access to the US army, they will have access to an arsenal that is beyond the range of any sort of gun that is on the market--the US is one of the few countries in the world with nuclear weapons. We have biological weapons, chemical weapons. Hand guns, and even assault rifles, are not going to save anyone from a crazy uprising.

People also argue that, even if we have strict gun control laws, people will be able to obtain guns on the black market. This is the worst argument. That's like saying, we shouldn't outlaw murder, because people will murder anyway, that we shouldn't outlaw rape, because people will rape anyway. Our society is a framework that should protect people, including through legislation. While we cannot ensure that the laws and policies that exist will protect every single individual, we also cannot do nothing. The laws in place, and the punitive system in place, though flawed, still serve to protect people, and fewer people are hurt because of their existence.

The last point that some people make, concerning their right to bear arms, is that they need to protect themselves from individual threats, such as a robbery, attempted murder. Some even argue that they want guns to protect themselves in case a mass shooter comes their way. You want to own a gun to protect yourself from all the other people who might own guns? The leading causes of death in the US are heart disease and cancer (which together, amount to more than one million deaths per year). Car crashes cause about 30,000 deaths per year in the US. These causes far exceed the likelihood of a person intentionally killing you (accidents on the other hand, including accidental gun deaths, are quite high on the list). Maybe instead of investing in gun ownership, a better way to protect your life would be to cut out fatty foods, or exercise on a regular basis. Few proponents of increased gun control are actually advocating for an entire ban on guns, rather it's a limit of types of guns. At the moment, the type of guns that are available for sale and ownership are beyond just hand guns or hunting rifles. 

It should be noted as well that, when the Constitution was drafted, the types of guns were limited. Technology today has created a broad array of weaponry that the drafters did not envision at that time. We need to update our laws to reflect the current reality.

In any case, every year New York has an enormous Pride Parade. This year was their largest one, probably in great part due to the recent shooting in Orlando. I think something like 300 groups participated. Almost every culture was represented (there was even a Taiwan float!). It has become a very commercial affair too though, with a lot of the floats sponsored by banks, credit card companies, and retailers. The parade started around 36th and 5th avenue, and went all the way down to West Village. There were several floats that paid tribute to the victims of the Orlando shooting.

We bought colored hair chalk, which sadly does not show up on dark hair, but used it to color one of our dogs. I grew up with a dog who was very shy, but this dog loves to be the center of attention. As we were walking, people would gather around him to take photos, which my dog would have hated. We underestimated how popular he would be, but I think he had a good time. Afterwards, we rinsed off the hair chalk (which was far harder than putting it on in the first place since he struggled like crazy to escape from the bathtub), and he slept for the rest of the day.

Ellie Goulding

Yesterday, I went to a concert with my best friend. She is visiting me this week, since she is changing offices at the State Department and was able to take some time off. Earlier this year, she showed me a song and said, "this is my favorite song right now," and it was "Lights" by Ellie Goulding, which had come out quite some time ago, but better late than never I suppose. In any case, it was also a song that I had on repeat for a while (some time ago). I had actually been looking for Adele tickets at Madison Square Garden, so I accidentally stumbled upon the Ellie Goulding concert which was that same day. Last minute tickets ended up beig a very good deal, so we dropped all of our plans and got tickets on the floor section!

The seats we had were really good. During the concert, Ellie Goulding asked if anyone came to the concert with their best friend, and played a song that she had written for her best friend. I really liked that, since I think friendship is often underrated in music--everyone  writes songs about lovers, even low ranked lovers (like people they went on one date with or even saw in passing), but I can't think of that many songs that are written about best friends.

After the concert, my best friend wanted us to buy matching sweatshirts. I thought the sweatshirt was just okay, and very overpriced, and I have way too many sweatshirts and I even donated some recently because I had so many, so I said no. "But we need to commemorate this event because we never go to concerts together!!"

"No way," I had said, "we go to concerts together all the time!!" 

"No we never do!"

"We went to see La Roux!" We also went to a house concert together last month.

In any case, she bought two sweatshirts. "Now you have to wear it," she said. "These are our best friend sweatshirts so you can't throw them away, we are going to give them to our children and then our grand children." 

"Okay okay," I said. "Let me pay you back on Venmo."

"No!" She said. "It's more special because I bought it for you, and you thought they were too expensive, so when we look back on this moment and people ask, I'll just say that I care more about our friendship than you do!"

"Okay," I said, "I'll just pay for our next concert tickets. Which will be soon because we go to concerts all the time!"

I think I'm very lucky to have such a best friend, and I had read an article recently about the importance of female friendships, which are often a major source of stability for people. As Ellie Goulding said, "she has been with me through the ups and downs of a lot of relationships, and I don't think she'll ever dump me." 

I remember we met someone recently, who said that he did not have a best friend, and one of us had joked, "wow, you better get on that. Especially at this age, most of the good ones are already taken."

"Yes, maybe you can try going online, I hear there are websites," the other had joked. 

In any case, here is a video from the show:

Wilmington, Delaware

I haven't had as much time to write lately, since things have been quite busy. I moved to a new apartment, and also have had a lot more responsibilities at work, which has also been very interesting.

I have been visiting Delaware more frequently lately, and it's a nice break from the craziness of New York city. Wilmington is a pretty small town. Being used to walking in New York, it didn't take me long to walk around a lot of Wilmington. The best way to get there is Amtrak. I also had my first experience with the Chinatown bus, which also goes to Wilmington.

Prior to taking the Chinatown bus, several of my friends warned me that it's a horrible way to travel. One said, "I felt like I was in the slave trade. We were all made to stand outside, and you see all of these people with huge plastic bags, and then we are squished together on the bus." Another said, "One of the very few things that my ex-girlfriend I ever agreed on was that the Chinatown bus is awful."

Despite all of these warning, I was thinking that I took a 10 hour bus from Quito to Montanita, which curves through mountains, and an 11 hour bus from Kampala to Kabale in Uganda, where there is no air conditioning and the dust from the road just flows in, so this bus really couldn't be that bad. I would say the worst transportation I ever had was in the Galapagos, when I was stuck on a tiny boat that smelled of gasoline, and the sea was particularly choppy that day, and I spent the entire three hours throwing up.

So indeed, the Chinatown bus really wasn't as bad as any of those three experiences, so I ended up being pleasantly surprised. It's all about expectations I guess. In any case, it was very dirty, and the bathrooms reminded of the awful bathrooms in some places I visited in China, and the seats are small, and there is a bus person who does shuttle you into the doors and barks at people for their ticket. I definitely didn't like it, and contemplated taking the greyhound in the future, but there is one major advantage of the Chinatown bus--it's really fast. Apparently, safety regulations, including speed limits, do not apply to them. I ended up getting to Wilmington in about two hours, which is 30 minutes faster than the other bus services! Once we got onto the highway, the driver just floored it and we sped all the way down 95 to Wilmington.

So I would say that the bus isn't a horrible option, though Amtrak is still a lot nicer (but double the price).

In Wilmington, there is a decent selection of restaurants, though not a lot of Asian food. Tonic, which is a restaurant and bar, has one of the best filet mignons that I've ever had in my life. I don't even like filet mignon, and I liked theirs. There is also a New Orleans themed restaurant (I forgot the name now), which is decent (though sadly still does not compare to what you can get in New Orleans). There is also a nice dog park, where everyone takes their dogs.

My dogs don't really like other dogs, but it's funny to see how dogs, like people, really do have their own personalities. There are a lot of big dogs in Delaware, unlike New York. There is one named Jack, who always gets his ball stolen by other dogs (so his owners write "Jack" on the ball so they can get it back later). "He's a pacifist," the lady who owns him said.

"Pacifist is just another way of saying coward," grumbles her husband.

There isn't a lot of public transportation in Wilmington, so you really have to have a car. This past weekend, I went to Ikea to get some furniture for my new apartment, and also to a really good ice cream place (something creamery, I don't remember now). It was the perfect summer day though, sitting outside with ice cream, and listening to a blue grass band play.

There are two parks that I walked through, Cool Springs Park and Brandywine Park. Brandywine park is filled with geese (and lots of goose poop), and this time of year, the goslings are growing up so you can see how they are a bit bigger each time you visit. 

Portland, Maine

I must have been to Portland as a child, but I don't remember it. Having grown up on the East Coast, I was lucky enough to have explored a lot of New England by car. I used to go to Marblehead, in Massachusetts, to catch crabs and other small animals by the tide pools. I used to take New England Clam Chowder for granted, but now that I moved away, I really miss how easy it was to get good chowder in Boston. I suppose I can probably find it in New York too if I try hard enough, and I have had it year, but something about being back in New England makes it all taste better. Perhaps it's the memory of childhood.

My friend rented a car from Delaware, picked up another friend in Philadelphia, and then picked up two of us in New York. The drive was not so bad, since we all packed snacks. We spent the night near Salem, a town that is famous for the witch trials. One of our friends is from Germany, and he remarked that witch trials are not so special, since they happened all over Europe too. Our other friend explained that in the US, it was not necessarily so widespread, though there were incidences, but there happened to be a lot during one time in Salem, hence the fame.

Today, Salem has a lot of fun, new age stores, as well as museums devoted to the Witch Trials. Also, there is a maritime museum too. It rained all day when we arrived though, so we just got brunch at a wonderful cafe called Gulu Gulu Cafe. It's probably one of the best brunches that I have had in a while. I got the classic banana nutella crepes, and my friend got yogurt and berry crepes. They also have a good selection of spiked coffee.

Had the weather been nicer, we would have stayed to walk around, but it poured, so we decided go ahead and drive to Portland.

"I have a special request," My German friend announced.

I was preparing to argue, since I had assumed that this request would pertain to the radio/car music, since we had previously agreed that each person gets one hour allocated to them to play their music.

"Can we please," he continued. "Please please stop when we are in New Hampshire so that I can get out of the car and take a picture just so I can tell my friends back home that I went to New Hampshire?"

Well that was easy. If anything, liquor is much cheaper in New Hampshire, especially at the State run liquor stores, so we had been planning to stop there anyhow to get things for our trip. He now has a nice photo of himself in front of one of these liquor stores to send back home.

Route 1 in California is gorgeous, but I didn't know that Route 1 on the East Coast is also gorgeous. We drove along that, and visited the most photographed lighthouse in Maine (according to the lady in the visitor's center). I wish I remembered her name, but she was so helpful, and really took time to give us instructions. We also drove by George W. Bush's summer home in Portland. There were a lot of black SUVs outside (I don't know if they were even there), and the flag was at half mast for Belgium.

We rented a nice house on airbnb. Coming from New York, of course I was thrilled at how much space we had. It was beautifully decorated, and very clean. That evening, we went to a small seafood shack, and of course I ordered lobster. Even when I lived in New England, I thought lobster and New England clam chowder were a big deal--now that I live away from New England, I am even more excited to have it.

On the Saturday, we went downtown to take the ferry to Peak's Island. Before that, we went to a gluten free bakery where I had one of the best cheesecakes that I have had in my life. It was like a cross between cheesecake and my favorite girl scout cookies, which were caramel delights (I think the new name is Samoas). It was still pretty cold in Portland, but at least the sun was out.

Peak's Island was a nice, short journey. I walked along the tidal pools, and collected some rocks and shells. It was a nice trip back in time, when I used to do this as a kid. I looked for crabs, and didn't find any. One of my friends accompanied me, to stare into the tidal pools.

"I don't think there is anything," he said.

"With most tide pools," I said, "If you look long enough, you will see something." And sure enough, there was a flash, and a small silvery little fish darted from one patch of sea grass to another.

When we took the ferry back, our German friend realized that he lost his sun glasses. A kind passenger on the ferry offered to post an ad for us on the local Peak's Island lost and found website. Sure enough (I'm writing this post late), a week or so later, someone had found the sunglasses on the beach! I found people in Portland to be really friendly.

Unfortunately, since I am writing this post late, I forgot the name of a lot of the places we went to. In any case, there is a really nice bar, kind of like a beer hall, that we went to. I tried to find tourmaline, which is the state mineral of Maine, and has a watermelon coloring to it, in the sense that some tourmaline have a pink center with a green outside. I didn't really see any that I liked, and a lot of the stores were closed since it was Easter Weekend.

We went to Duck Fat for dinner. It was okay. I had been hoping to have stellar poutine, like I had in Montreal. With a lot of specialty "local" foods, it doesn't seem like it's so hard to make, but it really is hard to find it outside of the location that is famous for it. Poutine is just fries with gravy and cheese curds, but I haven't had good poutine outside of Canada. It shouldn't be that hard. In any case, the poutine at Duck Fat was good, because poutine can never be bad, but it wasn't like that amazing fois gras poutine that I had in Montreal, or even the (also really good) cheap diner poutine that I had in Montreal. I used to not even like fries, but I've come to really appreciate poutine. On a similar note, I do think New England clam chowder is best in New England, but there are very decent versions elsewhere too.

On Sunday we hiked through a small forest area, and then made our way back on Route 1, where we stopped for lunch at a restaurant that I think is called Lobster Cove. I ordered the whole lobster. Again, this is something that is a no-brainer for New Englanders, but I am surprised at how difficult it is for some people to eat whole lobsters. On the other hand, I think other people (not New Englanders) are shocked at how I eat lobster. I kind of think that a real Bostonian is able to eat a whole lobster without using those metal shell crackers. Of course they make it a little bit easier, but if you are an experienced consumer of lobster, you probably have learned the weak points in the shell where you can break it with your hands and extract the meat. I suppose to the outsider, it does look like a savage process, with shells cracking and lobster juice spurting out. A bib is definitely necessary.

"Lobsters scream when they get steamed alive," my friend said.

"That's a lie," I replied. "It's just the sound of the air escaping their shells." I'm actually not certain that's the case, but I heard that somewhere.

We got back to New York late, around 8:30. It was a really nice trip, reminiscent of the road trips that I used to take a child.

The most photographed lighthouse in Maine

Somewhere on Peak's Island

Beach in Peak's Island

Hunter Mountain

I haven't been skiing since middle school, but a few friends found a package that includes transportation and ski rental to Hunter Mountain, in the Catskills. It was towards the end of the season, so not as many people were going. The bus picked me up about a block from my house, at 7:00 am. On the bus, they had bagels and water, and it was about 2.5 hours to the mountains. They play movies along the way, but most people are asleep.

I had thought about cancelling, because I hate the cold and never was that good at winter sports. I had regretted signing up, thinking that I had just succumbed to peer pressure, and would just be miserable and shivering on the mountain while attempting to navigate the bunny slope. On the contrary, I actually had an amazing time. I even left lunch early so I could go back.

Notably, I fell, quite badly, numerous times. I think it may be kind of like when you go to the beach as a child, and you don't feel the iciness of the water because you are just so excited to be at the beach. I didn't realize how bad the falls were until later. It was a fairly warm day, and the sun was out, and the snow was, for the most part, powdery instead of icy. I'm surprised at how easily it came back to me--like riding a bike. I went on the only beginner trail that was open, probably around 10 times.

Since my friend were taking a break, I met a lot of interesting people while on the ski lift. Since I don't ski often, I didn't have any ski gear. Some kid asked me, "you don't use goggles when you ski??" I said that I do not, and he replied, "Wow, thug life!" I told him no, not really, I am actually just unprepared. Since I didn't actually have ski wear, when I fell, my jacket would slide up my back so that my bare back would end up on the snow. Of course, my clothes got kind of wet. Luckily I brought a change. Once, I fell and slid so far that the key to my locker fell out of my pocket and got lost in the snow. The staff were really nice about that though, and I didn't have to pay a penalty.

Some tips that were helpful to me, that other skiers shared, were to lean your weight forward to prevent yourself from falling, and to shift your weight side to side to try to slow down. People on the mountain were pretty nice. When I fell, some nice children would help me bring my ski poles, since I had a habit of sliding quite far away from them.

I think next year, I will try to go a bit earlier in the season. It was nice because it was not crowded at all, and it was a bit warmer, but I think there would be less slush when it is colder. It would also be nice to have more trails open.

Rocky

Last weekend, my dog passed away. It isn't really travel related, but I thought I should write something about him in any case.

As a child, I loved animals. My dad grew up on a farm, so he loved animals too, and the two of us would bring home random animals and my mom would get angry, but then accept that they were part of the family and give them a Chinese name in addition to their English one. Throughout my life, I have had hamsters, fish, guinea pigs, birds, hermit crabs, a turtle, a rabbit, and finally, two dogs. We got my dog Rocky in high school, out of a whim. We were in a mall, and I saw a little black dog in the pet store. A friend of mine said that statistically, black dogs are bought and adopted less, because people tend to prefer white or light colored dogs. I don't know if that is actually true, but in any case I loved Rocky right away. He was fluffy and had no tail (it might have been cropped). I normally don't do this, but I asked the pet store owner if we could play with it. My dad was with us, so he said yes. My mom said, "that's not a dog, that's a cat." He was so cute, only two pounds at the time. I didn't think we would be able to take him home, even though my dad and I both really liked him. However, my brother, who for a long time was against having dogs because he "didn't like dog poop," said he wanted it too. Since my mom has a special soft spot for my brother, she agreed.

We took him home, and set up a space for him in the kitchen. As it turned out, he is a dog that gets scared really easily, and hates to be at home by himself. We ended up getting a second dog to keep him company. It's too bad that they didn't get along that well, but I think he was a lot better with another soul in the house. Later in life, when we moved to San Francisco, we moved the dogs one by one. He spent some time alone while my dad was at work, and when he came back, he found that the door had been destroyed from Rocky scratching it. In addition to being alone, Rocky was really afraid of high pitched noises, and the crackling sound of the fireplace. When we started using our fireplace, he would be in the other room, huddled against our pet rabbit for protection. He became really scared of flies, because we had an electric fly swatter. The noise scared him for some reason, and he began to associate the buzzing of flies with that noise, even after we stopped using the electronic fly swatter. He would hide and shiver whenever he heard a fly, and someone would have to wrap a blanket around him and hold him. My mom said, "people love pets because they make you feel important. You feel special because they depend on you to protect them from stupid things."

I had been read somewhere that we should all treat our partners with the same forgiveness that we treat our pets. Our love for our pets is not conditioned on good behavior, and we are so tolerant of their mistakes--we don't refuse to pet them because they tore up our shoes, for example. Rocky used to get car sick, and throw up when we went for rides; once he threw up in my brother's lap, and for a long time my brother proclaimed that he did not like Rocky because of that incident (I think Rocky might have also pooped in his room).

The vet said that Rocky would grow up to be 10 pounds, but he ended up being about 30. Our theory is that maybe he was not treated well--we found out that he came from a puppy farm. I am so happy that we have Rocky, but I will think very carefully about where I get dogs, if I do get dogs again, in the future. His fear of certain things, and also how he was so skinny when we got him, led us to believe that perhaps he did not have a good life where he had been raised. In any case, Rocky was on diet dog food for most of his life, because of his weight. He would eat everything--orange peels, random bugs, poop, grass..once he ate a banana slug, and the slime was all over his face. He used to like to roll around in stinky things too, and he would wipe his face on the carpet in my parents' room.

I had been devastated because I had loved Rocky so much, but my mom fed him some sausages and after that my mom was always #1, and the rest of us were probably tied in some second category. Perhaps my dad was promoted later, since they hang out a lot. He would hang out in the kitchen while anyone cooked, and gobble up any food that was dropped. It was convenient in the sense that we never had to clean anything up. Unfortunately, he also got diabetes later. After he went on insulin, he lost a lot of weight and became quite bony.

Initially, he didn't like going for walks, but he also doesn't like to be left behind. Our second dog loved walks, so he would always go. Towards the end of his life, he was blind and couldn't go out, but whenever I came home, he would want to come when I took a walk with Sandy, our other dog. He would walk very slowly, and sometimes he would fall off the curb if I got distracted and wasn't watching him. His head got a lot dirtier because he would crash into things around the house because he was blind.

Since he was half Lhasa Apso, he was accustomed to colder temperatures and very sensitive to the heat. During the summer, he would drool a lot. He didn't like to be out during the day because his black fur would heat up, so we usually walked at night. There were a few times when I took him out around noon, and it was quite bad--he would have to find a shady spot and just lie there, drooling. At night, he would sleep in my parents' bathroom, on the tiles because it is cooler there. He was punctual too. At around 9:30 every night, he would head into my parents' bedroom by himself, and go to sleep. When he passed away, he also went into my parents' bedroom, and that was where he died.

He was such a good dog. He rarely barked--for a long time I thought he didn't know how to. He never bit anyone, and he was so nice to our other dog, Sandy, and our rabbit, Flora, even though both of them were not so nice to him. He had such a sweet personality, a good temper, and was so easy going. He had been part of my life for so long, that it's hard to imagine home without him there too.