I’m free again after my training, and Dave takes me to his favourite restaurant in Nashua to meet up with Sid and his girlfriend. It’s a small, family-owned Mexican joint with bright colours and an appropriately accented waitress.

Over dinner, we compare our regional differences. I ask them what it means when someone says “A quarter of one” (12:45), because they don’t say “a quarter to one”. I ask them if they take their shoes off when they get in the house (sometimes, depending on the host), because I noticed no one did when I was in a house¹. I ask them if they have bubble tea (there’s one Vietnamese restaurant that serves it), because it’s all over Canada now. I tell them New York Fries serves poutine (What’s New York Fries?). I pull out some Canadian bills and show them the braille (Oooooooh). At one point, Sid calls me on my “eh”, contrasted from their “huh” used at the end of a sentence to emphasize a point.

Dave and I drive to downtown Manchester, the biggest city in New Hampshire, to a bar/café called Republic. Every month, Dave organizes the Collective, a group of creative people with a certain energy, and a void in their lives when it comes to someone with whom to discuss their endeavors on a practical, nonthreatening, philanthropic level.

I repeat a person’s name after being introduced to them, a trick I learned from the client specialist course I took in New Hampshire four years ago.

At one point, Ed asks us how we know each other, and Dave explains, along with a story:

When my sister and I were kids, we imagined what it would be like if we were more of us, so we needed an older sister and a younger brother to round out the sibling experience. As the oldest brother, I needed to know what having an older sister was like. And we also chose personalities to go with them. I think the older sister was a heavyset, strong girl with a determined, mothering tendency toward us. Her name was Daphne, and she was the type to play field hockey or lacrosse when she went to college had we known what that was back when we were kids. The younger brother would be a slender, artistic type that was a stylish and careful dresser; “metrosexual” was the term we’d have used, my sister commented recently, had we known the word. His name was Leland.

And when he met me yesterday, he thought, “That’s Leland!”. Now he’s wondering if he’s going to run into Daphne in the future.

After two hours of brilliant conversation and exchange of energy, we go our separate ways. These are my people, and I feel the need to start something similar in Ottawa.

I take a picture of us because I leave tomorrow, shortly after the end of the course, and won’t have a chance to see him again. I offer my house if he ever wants to get away and change up his frame of mind, and he returns the offer.

In 24 hours, I’ll be home sweet home again, but certainly wishing I had more time to talk, and relate, and feel as if there was another kindred soul in the world.

1. Not even in my hotel room, which I found very strange. [↑]

The training is light and relaxed. I avoid wearing my name tag, but not the awkward round of introductions everyone has to make around the class. We finish early for the day, and I wonder if there’ll be a test at the end as part of my certification.

I vaguely remember that Dave Seah, my online mentor and personal coach, lives in New Hampshire. We met four years ago when I joined 9rules, and immediately developed a connection. His writing, ideas, and achievements have always inspired me, and he’s been the only person to make a guest post on my blog.

I call him, and as fate would have it, he lives 10 minutes from my hotel. For years, I’ve wondered if he had a New Hampshire accent, and I finally find out he speaks just like me.

Dave picks me up and whisks me away to Factory 99, an open artist studio converted from an old factory, to meet Sid. Sid is a photographer trying to turn his passion into his living. I see his photos, and pick his brain about off-camera flashes, exposure, post-processing, backdrops, and lighting for much longer than I should have. I can’t even explain how many questions he’s answered. I feel like I’ve been through a workshop, and leave with an urgency to try everything I’ve learned. It’s easy to see why Dave is such good friends with him, and the synergy continues.

From there we take a stroll to downtown and onto Main Street. It’s only sunset, and many stores are closed, a sign of the economic downturn. It’s a small city we’re in¹, and there’s almost nothing of note, save for the triangle manhole covers.

We make a quick stop at his house, nestled among evergreens and a cosy part of town, to check on a turkey he’s been slow cooking. I finally get a chance to see his studio in real life. I recognize the laptop he purchased for his project. I see his handwriting. His gun vault. His OLPC laptop. His cats. All the little details I’ve glimpsed from his photos are in front of me now.

We look for a place to have dinner, and decide on some Asian food. He takes us to a Korean/Japanese restaurant. I let him order everything for the both of us. Just from hearing him describe the unagi, I can tell he’s one of the few people who analyze and study and appreciate food the way I do.

Over our steaming bowls of rice and tea, we talk as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. I realize just how similar we are, how we’re at the same stage in life, both self-aware, emotionally intelligent, wondering the same things, figuring out the mysteries of life, and trying to sustain ourselves on what we love doing.

I don’t feel so alone anymore.

1. Compared to Ottawa, at least, at only one tenth the population [↑]

I pack light. A single lens, and only carry-on baggage.

This plane takes me to a more central airport. Every seat has a USB plug, a power outlet, and a video screen that lets you choose what you want to watch. I make a note to fly Air Canada from now on.

In stark contrast, my connecting flight has two propellers.

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Louise gave me a gorgeous copy of the Tao Te Ching. It’s translated by James Legge, with classic Chinese art from the Cleveland Museum of Art. What’s especially cool is that the fonts used for the titles is Avenir, which is the same font I used for my second Tao tattoo.

It’s perfect because I feel like I’ve strayed from the path lately. It’s been a few weeks since I picked up the book and read a few verses.

I really like the fact that many of the pages have no verses, and only artwork. It’s nice enough that I’ll probably keep it out on my coffee table, instead of in my bookshelf hidden in a closet¹.

She also gave me this bamboo bookmark, with a Confucian saying on it. I find it funny because Confucianism opposes Taoism, though they both have very good ideas.

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1. Not that I don’t like to display books, I just prefer to keep a neat house. [↑]

A few weeks ago, I received a package wrapped in brown paper at work. It took me a few moments before I recognized the return address; from the woman who birthed me (I prefer not to use the term “mom” anymore). I didn’t want to open it, because my first suspicion was that it was a box of ears. Why ears? Well, I’ve seen Oldboy, and let’s just say that in the movie, the main character does something similar as an act of penance to someone he wronged.

This woman can also have a twisted sense of logic, and it wouldn’t me surprised if she cut off her ears, along with someone else’s, to show that she was trying to make up for the way she treated me by punishing herself, along with another poor, unfortunate soul who donated their ears to the cause. But it was heavy, and curiosity frequently gets the best of me, so I opened it, and discovered it was a box of mooncakes. Four mooncakes, to be precise, and the expensive kind with the double yolk. Then I realized it was the Mid-Autumn Festival, so this kind of delicacy wasn’t so out-of-the-ordinary.

My next thought was that they were laced with arsenic. Who knows what this woman is thinking; every now and then she goes fucking crazy. I told my office-mate, who said, “They aren’t poisoned! Your mom’s just trying to reach out to you.” I didn’t believe her, so she said she’d take one home and feed it to her family to prove it to me.

Unfortunately, my co-worker is only in the office once a week. So there I was at home on the weekend, with these delicious, though potentially poisoned, mooncakes on my counter, waiting to see my co-worker in six days so she could tell me if she started developing any signs renal failure.

Part of me was also thinking I should just throw them out. By eating them, I was accepting the gesture by this woman — in other words, forgiving her — which was definitely not the case.

The thing is, I’ve always had a weakness for mooncake. Those heavy, delicious little pastries that are only made more special by the fact that they’re only available twice a year (the other time being Chinese New Year).

So I told myself she was just repaying part of the debt she caused from mental anguish, and there went my pride. I ate just eat a little piece — an eighth of one cake — and waited a few hours to see if I started experiencing vomiting, nausea, or seizures. Then one piece led to another, and by the time I knew it, half a cake was gone.

This was supposed to be a picture of a box of mooncakes, but this is all I have left now.

I’m still alive.

I probably looked like this the whole weekend, cause it was non-stop awesomeness.

The Japanese Village

Last week, Aaron asked me if I wanted to go to The Japanese Village. I thought it was just to hang out, since we hadn’t had a guy’s night in a while, so I didn’t clue in that it was for my birthday until the day of. Aaron told me I could order anything I want, as it was his treat, but I ordered the only thing I ever get when I’m there; the filet mignon cooked medium rare, which I think is the best in the city. It was good to hang out with him and Trolley again.

And, of course, silliness is always present with these guys around.

John in town

John’s been working two straight months, without a weekend off. The last time was when he came to Ottawa to visit. Between all the activities, we only had enough time to watch one movie — American Graffiti — and between the two of us, we could sing every song that came from this film based in the 60s (me covering The Platters, him covering everything else).

I usually only get to see him once a year, so twice in two months was a special treat.

Cranium Party

I’d love to do games nights on a regular basis, but people aren’t available on the same days, so I used my birthday as an excuse to get as many people as possible together for a giant Cranium party. I told them that instead of giving me a present, they should just come to the party. It worked, and we had enough for four teams of three. Some people also brought snacks, like honey mustard pretzels, carrot cupcakes, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

It was the highlight of the weekend.

Dim sum with my dad

On Friday, my dad called me to wish me a happy birthday, and told me he was in town for 10 days. We made plans to have dim sum. John came too, which is always interesting to see his reactions to what food is as the token white guy. I had a phoenix talons for the first time¹, because I was feeling adventurous, and I have to say that they weren’t bad, but I didn’t care for them either. They’re too hard to eat, and the sauce wasn’t to my taste. It was strange to see both John and my dad at the same place, and in Ottawa instead of Toronto.

I told my dad he could probably sit and observe one of my Tai Chi classes, so he could see what I do, but he wasn’t interested, and I’ll admit that the indifference hurt a bit. Afterward, I asked John what he thought as a 3rd party observer, and he told me I had a good relationship with my dad. I’ll take his word for it.

I needed this

I needed this weekend so much. To recharge. To stop thinking about things. To get completely wasted. It felt like it was my birthday the whole weekend, and I wondered what I did to deserve it all.

1. It wasn’t the taste, but the look that has always prevented me from trying them. [↑]

Tim was in town for a presentation this weekend, so a few of us went to dinner at a restaurant close to where he used to live. It turns out this place used to be called Drumlin’s Pub, which I knew from second year of university, ohhh…seven years ago? I distinctly remember being in there once, doing shots at the bar¹ while sitting next to an older guy who was over $30k in debt to OSAP, telling me to go after the bigger girls cause they do way more “stuff”. On our drinking tours of the city back then, we would always try to find a place that served good, cheap wings, and Strongbow. If I remember correctly, Drumlin’s had hearty honey garlic, but no cider.

Now that it’s under new management, it has a really generic name — like Sandy Hill Bar And Grill — though it makes up for this fact with much better pub fare. Such social opportunities are great for testing out the 360° surround capabilities of the Zoom H2 sound recorder I recently purchased as an investment towards better sound production in my videos.

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In his defence, Tim was surprised to discover that Jess has a new boyfriend, and was being (jokingly) self-deprecating about his sex life. Next at the table was Reagan², who was asked about hers. Jess picked up the mic and pointed it at me, perhaps to shift the attention away from Reagan and shield her from embarrassment. Of course, it all plays out much nicer when you have a recording of it.

1. Back then I drank with Iain, so it would have been tequila. [↑]
2. Note to self: pronounced “Ray-gun” [↑]

Tiana brought me as her guest to the Ottawa Foodies pot luck, run by Pam¹, and held on a rooftop patio right on Bank Street. It was a true potluck, where no one knew what anyone else was bringing.

The Ottawa Foodies usually gather in the Ottawa Foodie forums, where they discuss recipes and restaurants in Ottawa, so this was the first in-person meeting for many. Many didn’t know each others real names, so there were introductions like, “Hi, I’m MissMuffins862″, or ,”Hi, I’m Thomas, aka BagelRapist”.

I don’t think Tiana was quite ready for the food dorks, the type of which I was already somewhat accustomed to during my time at the computer science program at Ottawa U. I’ve determined that food dorks are just as bad as wine snobs and computer geeks. For example:

There were two guys who got into a heated argument about the kind of fat used in Mcdonald’s french fries. One of these guys also preached to me about the benefits of good rice, (and me — being Chinese — knew absolutely nothing about rice). There was one guy who said, “I’m doing a documentary on the youngest head chef in the ———- region”. I asked “Wow, how did he get that position?”, and his reply was “His parents own the restaurant”. Then realizing the fact that nepotism ruins the credibility of his initial statement, he followed this with “He also made a flowerless brownie at 11.” Tiana asked, “Did he invent it?”. “No, he followed a recipe”. At that point, Tiana and got silent and we just looked at each other.

But what some of these people lack in social skills, they make up for in culinary abilities, and the food was amazing.

So I basically hung out with Tiana the whole time, and pigged out on everything I could. By the end of the night, my truffles, usually rolled in coco powder to prevent them from sticking to each other, had turned into a truffle.

1. Who also happens to know Tim. Ottawa is really small. [↑]

To say goodbye to Tim and Pam, as well as Sunday brunch potlucks altogether, it was decided that something special be done. So we found a shady space in the park for the blankets and food. It was the first time we had wine at one of the potlucks, and a beautiful day.

For some reason, Jess likes to call me Satan. Maybe it’s because cheese is her weakness, and I always enjoy indulging her temptation.

A chance to try new recipes and share them with others. Also, a chance to learn some dance moves so you may not feel so out-of-place the next time you’re at a Jewish wedding. I wish I had started taking pictures sooner instead of getting distracted by all the food, because there was so much of it. We sat around and ate and conversed until the sun went down, then ate some more.

I love meeting interesting people. People with something to say (in beautiful accents), and new perspectives to offer. People who are as curious about you, as you them.

For Tom’s birthday, we gathered at Tim’s for grilled chicken breasts, pork chops, roast beef, and some pleasant conversation. I always find it interesting that the topics we discuss are so different from the ones at parties. Subjects tend to be more intellectual, whereas conversations at Pat’s house, let’s say, are much more jovial and carefree.