May 20, 2012
by renayung
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Comfort Zone Shrinkage

I have a new commute during the work week. I no longer travel to the downtown core every day. No, my new commute takes me to the Downtown East Side. I think my office is technically in Railtown but I affectionately call the area Sketch-ville.

Initially my primary concern with the new commute was the extra travel time (I now have to take an additional bus along East Hastings to get to my destination). But I’ve accepted that. Then my second concern was one of safety. However I haven’t encountered any unwelcome attention to-date (knock on wood). And the other commuters are actually a dynamic, colourful bunch. Sure, there are always a few drunken bus-riders at 8:30 am or the odd meth-head. And for the most part they just stick to themselves. But a high percentage of the other commuters are hipsters and UBC students. So I can’t say my safety or perception of it has been compromised at all.

It’s only been a couple of weeks with the new route and already I was thinking I was adapting quite nicely. I’ve always prided myself on being adaptable, and I’ve never viewed myself as being a prima donna, high society-type. Instead I would like to think I can blend in with any crowd and be comfortable in almost any surrounding. But then something happened last week that caught me off-guard. No, I didn’t witness someone puking at the bus stop (seen that) or some public urination in an alley (also seen that). No, it was much more unexpected than that.

I was about to get on the bus leaving the DTES and a older man was getting off the bus. He had a slight build and grey, greasy, ratty hair. His skin was wrinkled and grimey and his denim jacket and jeans were absolutely filthy. He was harmless enough and when he walked passed me, I started to move up the stairs of the bus. Suddenly I felt someone gently grab my arm. I turned to face him but I couldn’t look past the smally, wiry hand on my forearm. His fingernails were yellow and sharp and his skin was so incredibly, unbelievably hot to the touch. It is seared into my memory. I hated to admit it, but I felt revulsion and a single thought went through my mind, “How dare you touch me.” Shudder.

He smiled to expose his nasty teeth which reminded me of his fingernails. “There’s a stroller coming out. You might want to just wait a minute.” His message to me was nice enough, he was being considerate. But I could still remember his hot, clammy fingers in contact with my bare skin. I smiled in spite of myself and stepped aside to let the stroller through.

Just like that, I had comfort zone shrinkage. Cool with my surroundings one minute, then instantly wanting to run and escape and have a shower. It’s embarrassing on my part, for sure. I guess I’ll just have to grow some thicker skin.

May 5, 2012
by renayung
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Closing Paul’s Boutique: How Adam Yauch Reminded Me Who I Was and Who I Had Become

Recently I heard the news that Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys had passed away from cancer. I’m not usually one to feel affected by celebrity deaths, but for some reason I felt the need to post a brief “RIP Adam Yauch” as my Facebook status. Then over the next couple of days I noticed many of my friends on Facebook also posting their sad feelings about MCA’s passing and sharing articles about his achievements. I started to realize that Mr. Yauch’s passing touched me deeper than I originally thought. For me, the moments and feelings created by the Beastie Boys’ music added up to a substantial collection in my core. I first experienced their music as a teenager. I was a Chinese-Canadian girl growing up in (at the time) white bread North Vancouver listening to 3 Jewish hip-hop artists from Brooklyn. It seemed so implausible, yet perfect in its contrasts. Suddenly it was clear in my mind what it all meant, and the memories played out like a TV montage scene.

I clearly remember swinging on a playground’s swing set with my best friend at the time. We were in high school, probably around Grade 10. It was night time in the summer. We had impossibly skinny legs and the start of laugh lines on our young, shiny faces. He and I did not have a care in the world (well, nothing more troubling than the usual teenage angst). As we swung in the cool, evening breeze we belted out “Fight For Your Right (to Party)” at the top of our lungs. I can not tell you the last time I felt like that, so free and intangibly youthful.

Fast forward a few years. I bought “Paul’s Boutique” on cassette and it lived in my little Mazda’s tape deck for awhile. The plastic casing was yellow instead of your standard black. It was so cool to look at. I would play “Hey Ladies” over and over again. As I sped en route to my university exams I would have comical images of platform shoes, bull whips on the dance floor, and pimp daddy disco outfits. And I would want “more cowbell” many years before that phrase was a common punch line.

I clearly remember watching some concert footage of the Beastie Boys when I was a bit older. I recall being astounded by their technical brilliance and vocal choreography. To hear their music was entertaining. To watch their impeccable timing of their rapping was nothing short of mind-blowing. An unappreciative listener/observer might think they were just yelling willy-nilly into their mics, but “waaaaaaay harder than it looks” comes to my mind.

I did not see the Beastie Boys perform live until many years later. I think it was around 2003 at the Pacific Coliseum. I went with my dear friend Farshad as part of our ongoing mission to see musical ‘legends’ perform at least once during our life time. The boys were now men but the crowd was definitely a younger demographic. They still had it: the energy, the skills, and the adoring love of their (mostly male) fans. The bromance crushes ran deep for Mike D, Ad-Rock, MCA, and Mix Master Mike. I loved their crowd-pleasing song line-up and dinner theatre-like approach to their performance. It still stands as one of my favourite live performances that I have ever attended.

And you can imagine my joy when I first moved in with Robin almost a decade ago and I was consolidating our music collection. I found the Beastie Boys’ Anthology “The Sounds of Science” amongst his CDs. I was now half-owner of all their hits and quickly claimed it as my own.

But everything has changed now. The Beastie Boys are minus their MCA. He is no more. He was 47. And I am 40. The young girl swinging through the summer evening is so far away from me. On the weekend I happened to be going through some clothes in storage and I found my Beastie Boys concert t-shirt. It is pink and quite threadbare (and quite tight I might add). I don’t think I’ll be wearing it again any time soon, but I’m going to hang on to it. I’m not a pack-rat, but I believe in hanging on to certain things that have a special meaning, no matter how random they appear to be to a casual observer.

Then just today I stumbled across a YouTube video of Coldplay’s recent concert tribute to Adam Yauch. They sang a clear, melodic version of “Fight For Your Right.” It sounded amazing and the slow-downed version allowed me to really hear the lyrics. I caught my breath when I heard the last lines of the song as if it was my first time hearing them: “Don’t step out of this house if that’s the clothes you’re gonna wear/ I’ll kick you out of my home if you don’t cut that hair/ Your mom busted in and said, “What’s that noise?”/ Aw, mom you’re just jealous it’s the Beastie Boys!”

I am clearly no longer that teenage girl, happily screaming out the lyrics to this quintessential party anthem of my grad class. No, now I am the mother, the meddling matriarch, the buzz-kill for every free-spirited youth. It does not seem possible because if I close my eyes I can feel that breeze in my hair as I swing high into the night sky, I can see my friend’s smiling face which is also a reflection of my own, and I think I can hear my voice as I sing about fighting for my right to party….

RIP Adam Yauch. I never met you and obviously you never had any idea that I ever existed. But I promise that one evening this summer I will push my kids on the playground swing set and serenade them with your music. They will probably protest and think I have gone crazy but in the end we will laugh and swing into the night and your music and influence will live on for the next generation….

April 20, 2012
by renayung
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Move Over Posh, and Bring on the Dives!

When I was younger and single I ate out in restaurants quite often. I would make a point of frequenting my stand-by favourites on a regular basis and also checking out more posh eateries every now and then. It was good times for sure. I spent a rather large portion of my discretionary income back then on fabulous dinners, lunches, and brunches.

I can’t say I ever tired of it. To this day I still enjoy a nice meal out. But now I’ve noticed my tastes have changed somewhat. I don’t really make efforts to try all the trendy, hot spots anymore. One could say that I am not so dazzled anymore by dishes like “duck confit served on a bed of steamed veggies and garlic mash, drizzled with a raspberry reduction.” Sure, the food still tastes great and I appreciate the effort that went into preparing it, but I’m just not so keen to rant about how super-amazing it is at this point in my life.

No, now it’s all about the out-of-the-way hole-in-the-wall establishments. I will stake out those tiny, unknown eateries on the edge of somewhere. And most likely I know nothing about them, but I’ve driven by numerous times and always noticed their sign and have been curious about their menu offerings. Yesterday I had lunch with my friend Brian at the Dosa Grill on Canada Way near Kensington. It’s in a weird location and only has about 8 tables but it was extremely friendly and amazingly delicious and very affordable.

It’s no longer about giving up big money to experience fine-dining. I’ve done that time and time again. Now it’s about the challenge to find something different and unknown and be blown away for just a few dollars. Move over 5-stars, and hello mom and pop!

April 15, 2012
by renayung
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Shamrock Shake Build-up

When it was St. Patrick’s Day recently I noticed that McDonald’s had their traditional Shamrock Shake promotion. I realized that in all my years I have never tried one. So I made a point to try one this year before it disappeared off the menu. My opinion? A bit too sweet with a nasty mint-chemical after-taste. I could only handle 2 sips. But then my daughter happily finished the rest off. Big surprise.

Huh. I guess I should have tried one when I was a kid. I’m sure I would have had a better impression of them.

April 11, 2012
by renayung
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Beyond First World Problems

I read an article the other day about “first world problems”. The writer of this article detailed a woman’s plight regarding her driveway. It was too narrow to accommodate her SUV and she was having a battle with the city because she was unable to park on the street (due to by-laws in her Ontario suburb). So, there you have it – an example of a typical problem that a resident in the first world might encounter.

I often get caught up in the minutiae of every day life and find myself obsessing over details that are really ridiculous if I put them in perspective. For example, the latest dilemma to dominate my brain-space is waiting to find out if my daughter will be selected to go to the public school of my choice. Any school in my neighbourhood will be acceptable and fine but I have my preferences. But as I obsess about this situation I have to remind myself that millions of children (and especially girls) in the world will not have the privilege of an education, period.

And then I take it one step further (of course). I think of the “problems” (and I use that term loosely) that my 5 year-old daughter has. She has the best life. She goes to art class, hangs out at the park, goes swimming, has play dates, eats gorgeous meals, takes trips to the aquarium, watches TV, etc. I often wish a “Freaky Friday” switch with her just to enjoy her carefree, amusement park-like life for just 1 day. But yet she still has things that plague her little mind, like where are her doll’s shoes? Why does her stuffed kitty-cat’s fur suddenly feel all worn out? Where are all the ladybugs in the backyard?

Yes, the problems of a young child living in the first world. It almost makes me smile, it is almost adorable.

April 4, 2012
by renayung
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Jumping on the Kale Wagon

I have a backyard vegetable garden that produces tons of healthy veggies during the spring and summer months. And during the winter season there is kale. It is hearty and sturdy and even survives the occasional Vancouver snowfall (as long as it’s not too snowy out). So I’ve been harvesting it quite often lately and using it in recipes (e.g. soups, shepherd’s pie, kale chips). Fun times.

But the more I talk to friends about cooking, I have come to the conclusion that kale is the new trendy, healthy food du jour. It reminds me of the pomegranate from a few years ago or the blueberry from a decade ago. It got me thinking that it’s just slightly bizarre that every so often a certain food item will suddenly take off and be so incredibly popular for a time until it becomes so common and is just designated the status of being expected (or Lord forbid, passe). I realize that health fads come and go but seriously – to designate particular food items as being trendy and fad-like? I compare it to eating acid-wash and skinny jeans? I am slightly perplexed. It just seems wrong on various levels.

March 28, 2012
by renayung
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Kid Cool

I was working away on the office computer and I could hear the TV in the next room where my daughter was watching “Yo Gabba Gabba!” while eating Ritz crackers. I overheard the announcer introduce Weezer doing their song “All My Friends are Insects.” I just had to stop what I was doing and join her and watch the hipster, dorky-cool band do their thing on Nickelodeon’s hippest show. It was almost as good as watching The Killers perform “Spaceship Adventure” on the same children’s program awhile back.

Ah, I’m hip through osmosis with my children’s TV viewing!

March 21, 2012
by renayung
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I Am Canadian (Goose)

I was doing something rather mundane the other day, running some kind of errand. I was just about to get into my car when suddenly I heard a distant disturbance in the quiet morning. I stopped and looked skyward. It was the distinctive honking of Canadian Geese growing louder as I assumed the gaggle flew closer overhead. But the air was foggy and I couldn’t see anything.

Then out of the mist I could see them. That familiar V-shape was directly over me. I stared as I watched them pass over me and to my surprise I think I was holding my breath. Even though I’ve seen them so many times over the years growing up in Vancouver, they were still a sight to behold. Then I was thinking to myself: when is the last time I saw a V of Canadian Geese? I remember as a child getting giddy at spotting them in my North Vancouver neighbourhood. It was a treat to be in their migration path, a passing troupe of large, honking birds on their way to somewhere sunnier and warmer, and knowing they would return one day. But when was the last time I really ‘saw’ them, and didn’t just shrug them off to the background of my busy life.

No, that day I watched them and wondered where they were returning from and what stories they would have. And it reminded me of being an 8 year-old girl again who sees beauty everywhere in nature. And I’m glad for that.

March 12, 2012
by renayung
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I’m Singing In the Shower

I just noticed something about myself lately. When I lived on my own in my cool, bachelorette, rental-apartment I used to sing in the shower all the time. Even though my bathroom was situated relatively close to the shared hallway I would sing away and not care who heard me. But out of the blue I suddenly realized that I don’t sing in the shower anymore?

It’s most likely because showers have been a get-in/get-out mission for the past 5 years because of the 2 little beasts. I often rush this part of the routine because there are so many bad things that could potentially happen while I’m tucked away in the bathroom and out of earshot of the rest of the household. Also there is always so much to do in the morning that I don’t really have time for a leisurely soak.

But now that the kids are a bit older and more independent, my showers aren’t so rushed anymore. I think it’s time that I kick-start the singing habit again. It’ll be just like old times but instead of neighbours chuckling behind my back my children will be hammering on the door telling me to quit that infernal racket. Ah, everything old is new again!

February 28, 2012
by renayung
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What the Dolphin Did

I was at the Vancouver Aquarium the other day and we were down in the underwater viewing area where there are a number of windows looking into the dolphin tank. Normally there can be dozens of people peering through the windows and the dolphins swim by at break-neck speed and one would assume they couldn’t give a rat’s ass if we were there or not.

But I saw something different this time. A woman was standing in front of one of the windows and she was holding a small, stuffed dolphin by the tail with its nose pointing towards the glass. And she was bobbing it up and down. On the other side of the glass was one of the real dolphins and it was suspended in the water, nose-to-nose with the stuffed creature. And it was mimicking the movement, bobbing its nose up and down to the beat of the inanimate creature. It was almost like it felt it was looking into some kind of mirror?

I was so tempted to reach into my bag and grab my camera to record this interaction but decided not to. I just wanted to enjoy this display of animal self-awareness and not miss a second. It was a wise decision because suddenly the woman ran away from the window and headed in the opposite direction from where we were standing. She still held the stuffed toy in front of the windows as she raced down the hallway. The dolphin turned tail and darted away from us, chasing her along the windows.

The whole scene only lasted a few seconds but it was amazing. I’m so glad I was fortunate enough to witness it. It’s one thing to hold a stuffed cat in your living room and laugh while your kitten playfully bats at it. But to see a 500 lb marine mammal in its own enormous tank mimic a miniature version if itself behind a thick, glass window is a spectacular sight to behold indeed.

The World According to Rena

My World, My Words