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January 8, 2010 11:27 AM

cotton candy overdose

Sometimes 140 characters isn't enough. And this is one of those times:

'Eat, Pray, Love' reads like a very long article in Cosmo, O mag, or a compilation of self-absorbed yet insincere blog posts. Not a fan, but

That's how far I got on Twitter. Even after deleting some words and trying to rephrase the tweet, I still wasn't even close to articulating my thoughts. Hence, the blog post.

Basically, my criticism of Elizabeth Gilbert's book can be summed up by going to Amazon.com, reading the reviews of customers who ascribed 1-star, and compiling them. Or, you could just read this one (and the comments in response to it) because I think it best captures how I feel about the book [1]:

So, I'm not going to provide my own in-depth review of the book here. I will say that if you read Eat, Pray, Love and liked it, maybe I understand why. It might be the same reason as why I sometimes find myself watching Oprah (and enjoying it on some level) and why I used to religiously read magazines like seventeen, Sassy, Jane, and O cover-to-cover. Guilty pleasures that I'm not proud to admit to (although Sassy and Jane are less embarrassing than the other two). I'm actually cringing as I type.

Somehow, I can justify magazines - fluffy content that is quick and easy to digest - as guilty pleasures. I find this harder to do with books. In my mind, books are supposed to be intellectually stimulating, hearty, and ought to require additional inputs (i.e., thinking) to digest. While I do enjoy small amounts of cotton candy periodically, Eat, Pray, Love is like being served 108 sticks of artificially-coloured pink cotton candy and being asked to consume all of it without feeling nauseous. Perhaps I'm an elitist when it comes to books. I can accept that, though, without cringing.

As an aside, having perused Amazon's reviews of this book, it's clear to me that the online experience is much more valuable than what is offered in-store when it comes to buying books. Traditional methods of selling books relies on the assumption that everyone who bought the book subsequently liked it and the discretion of the publisher to extract and showcase the most favourable reviews (or sections of reviews, or parts of reviews that can be made to sound favourable with the replacement of text with ellipses). By offering transparency, Amazon.com changes the game.

The accolades printed on the covers of Eat, Pray, Love, combined with its best-seller status, present the book as a safe bet. But, less than half of Amazon reviewers loved the book, while 20% hated it. Overall, the book garnered 3.5 stars out of 5. I probably wouldn't purchase a book based on those stats. Would you?

[1] I have not read The Human Stain but now think that maybe I should. Cows on an organic farm as a metaphor... sounds interesting.

Filed under // books & art

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January 7, 2010 6:42 PM

year in review

The start of a new year inevitably prompts me to assess the year that just ended and ponder what the year ahead holds. In my case, on January 1st of last year, I didn't predict the events that transpired in 2009. If asked then where I'd be one year later, I would've responded "Vancouver". If you told me that I'd be married, I would've called you crazy.

Actually, I assumed that 2009 would be a replication, with some small, inevitable mutations, of 2008. Analogous to evolution in a relatively stable environment. But, as you probably know if you've been following hyphenated, the environment in 2009 was unpredictably stochastic.

Stochasticity is not a friend of mine. Nonetheless, I survived the ups and downs and the instability and the unknown. Despite poor forecasting, the outcome has been positive. I feel stronger for having ridden the wave that was 2009. This strength helps me to look at the blank 2010 calendar without panicking (too much). There are a few dates with pencil-marks, but the bulk of the year remains uncharted and unplanned.

I'd be lying if I said that I loved the predicted stochasticity, but I can acknowledge it, take a deep breath, and trust that most of the bridges that need to be crossed will appear on the horizon in due time. And if the bridges aren't there, we'll build them or find an alternate route.

Where will I be this time next year? I honestly can't say for sure. It could be Vancouver. And, despite the risk of mimicking Oprah, I do know one thing for sure: I'll be married.

Filed under // family & friends San Francisco Vancouver

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December 15, 2009 12:21 PM

cinémathèque

In the past, I watched a movie every couple of weeks - roughly twenty-five movies per annum. I think I've watched at least that many movies in the last six weeks. My movie intake has substantially increased thanks to a roommate who watches movies like other people listen to music. While he works with movies playing in the background, I get sucked in and, voila!, I find myself watching yet another movie.

Of the movies that I've watched in the past months, a few stand out. Inglorious Bastards, Moon, and Empire of the Sun rise to the top of the list. I hadn't seen the first two movies before, but I had seen Empire of the Sun and watching it a second time confirmed for me what a great movie it is.

Christian Bale, who was thirteen when the movie was made in 1987, and John Malkovich are great in their respective roles, but the cinematography, the story, and the themes underlying the story ultimately steal the show and resonated with me (this might have something to do with my affinity for books and movies set in historical China and Japan).

Empire of the Sun provides a captivating perspective of the occupation of China by the Japanese in WWII. Elements of the war are relayed to the audience through the eyes of a rich, spoiled foreign boy who is suddenly transplanted to an environment where his affluence and status become instantaneously irrelevant yet his sense of entitlement takes time to fade. His childhood innocence evaporates rapidly in the POW camp and is replaced with a cocky adolescent naiveté that is simultaneously endearing and exasperating. I found this paragraph from a 1988 article in the New York Times to be quite interesting:

''I was attracted to the main character being a child,'' says Mr. Spielberg [...]. ''But I was also attracted to the idea that this was a death of innocence, not an attenuation of childhood [...]. This was the opposite of 'Peter Pan.' This was a boy who had grown up too quickly, who was becoming a flower long before the bud had ever come out of the topsoil. And, in fact, a flower that was a gifted weed.''

I also appreciated the humanity instilled on the Japanese as a result of telling the story from the standpoint of a boy whose outlook hasn't been tainted by political rhetoric and wartime propaganda. Rather than being a black-and-white war story of good-versus-evil, the lines are blurred and the audience is left having to reconcile with various shades of grey. The subtly clever title alludes to the ambiguity by combining Japan's "land of the rising sun" with the idea that "the sun never sets on the British Empire".

Filed under // books & art San Francisco

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December 5, 2009 4:04 PM

power on

Flip the switch and, voila!, there is light. It's something I do everyday, without really thinking about it. I take electricity for granted and I know that I shouldn't, mainly because I found myself at the heart of the so-called Triangle of Darkness during the ice storm that ravaged Quebec in 1998. For twenty-eight days (minus the few hours between when John purchased a generator and when he deemed it defective because, in addition to generating power, it was generating an unsettling blue flame) lightbulbs were useless and I was forced to appreciate what life was like before Franklin's potentially idiotic kite experiment.

Given that producing light is as simple as flipping the switch, it's easy to ignore where the power comes from and even easier to leave lights on unnecessarily. In addition to turning superfluous lights off, my efforts to reduce my carbon footprint have included purchasing compact fluorescent bulbs in order to reduce power consumption for the purpose of illumination. The equation is simple: less power consumed = less power generated = less carbon emissions.

In the two places I've lived before now, the nature of the source of the electricity was implicit in the names printed on my utility bills: Hydro Québec and BC Hydro. I was always left wondering what impacts my effort to reduce my electricity consumption had if the bulk of the environmental impacts associated with producing the power were incurred in the past, when the dam was built and the landscape was flooded and the power lines were erected. The ongoing generation of hydroelectricity is considered relatively clean so the equation isn't so simple. Where hydroelectricity is concerned, reducing consumption limits demand in an effort to reduce the need to construct additional dams or power plants in the future, rather than reducing emissions now.

Our utility now does not have 'hydro' in its name and I was curious as to our current source of power. So I did some research and found some data for our zip code, which I've graphed:

So, in California, the link between turning off the lights and minimizing my footprint is more obvious, along with the fact that my footprint is probably larger here given the mix of energy sources. About 75% of the pie is non-renewable and fossil fuels make up more than half of the non-renewable energy sources, while the remaining piece is nuclear. Long story short, the pie is neither sustainable nor appetizing. Here's hoping that the recipe is tweaked sooner than later.

Filed under // science & technology sustainability

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December 2, 2009 6:53 PM

thanks, again

In October, I celebrated Thanksgiving in Montreal. With turkey and all the fixings, I reflected on all I had to be thankful for. At that point in time, my mind was mainly focused on the upcoming move and I was mainly grateful that the long-distance had come to an end. I also appreciated the fall colours, the warmth of the fire, and (last but not least) my wonderful family and friends.

This past Saturday, I celebrated Thanksgiving in San Francisco. While turkey and family were implicated (I was following Elaine's turkey instructions and I was flustered when the bird looked done about 3 hours before our guests were set to arrive - a call home resulted in some motherly advice and everything turned out fine), fall foliage and warm fires were not. Given that current ambient temperatures are such that many flowering trees are still in bloom, it didn't feel like time for the harvest. Of course, the pilgrims didn't take San Francisco's climate into account.

As I've explained countless times to Americans over the last month, Canada's Thanksgiving occurs earlier precisely because the harvest occurs sooner further north. Goes to show that there was a time when Canadian politicians didn't make decisions simply by looking to the south and copying (unlike Harper's recent change of heart regarding his decision to attend Copenhagen).

In any case, despite the lack of snow and shivers, Christmas is right around the corner. The holiday decorations and eggnog at the grocery store will have to serve as reminders, since looking out the window does not conjure up visions of sugar-plums.

Filed under // family & friends San Francisco

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November 25, 2009 6:40 PM

urban expedition

The Twin Peaks are well positioned to provide great views to those who venture to the top:

So, I resisted the temptation to keep playing DoodleJump (a highly addictive iPhone game) and made my way there to check it out. Although buses stop not too far from the summits, I decided to walk through the Mission and the Castro to get there and back - about 3 miles (4.5 km) each way. Given the warm temperatures and cloudless sky, today was a perfect day for a long walk.

Obviously, the trek there was largely uphill, with many stairways offering pedestrians more direct routes up the steep, urban terrain. The energy expended was well worth it - the views from the top are great on a clear day (as per the pictures). Visible landmarks include the Golden Gate Bridge, the Transamerica Pyramid, the Ferry Building at the end of Market Street, the Bay Bridge, the Bay, and the Pacific ocean. Apparently the peak is a favourite destination for tour buses bringing loads of tourists to take in the vistas, but I was lucky to have the top to myself for most of the time I was there.

And, as a comedic aside, the name of my destination today reminds me of a Monty Python skit involving a man with double vision leading an expedition up Mt. Kilimanjaro...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=46btEgKmCTo

Click here to download:

urban_expedition.zip (9484 KB)

Filed under // San Francisco

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November 19, 2009 7:13 PM

ocean beach

Dear Pacific Ocean,

I've only known you for five years, but it feels much longer. I think that a few years spent living so close to one of your many bays was enough for us to form a strong bond. I awoke this morning feeling that it'd been too long since I last saw you (three weeks ago today, and it was only a quick glimpse from the span of the Golden Gate Bridge) and I decided to be proactive and do something about it. San Francisco is "The City by the Bay", but visiting the bay seemed insufficient given how long it's been since I've seen you. So, I decided to put in the effort (really not that much effort, but about an hour on transit each way nonetheless) to see you in all your glory. And it was well worth it. Thank you for the fresh, invigorating air and the soft sand and the big sky. And, given the fire pits on the beach, I'm happy to note that this city welcomes people to enjoy your beauty day and night. Feel free to pass the message on to Gregor Robertson.

I hope to see you again soon!

Click here to download:

ocean_beach.zip (3867 KB)

Filed under // San Francisco

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November 14, 2009 6:17 PM

home sweet home

"Do you miss Vancouver?"

I don't know how many times I've been posed this question in the past two weeks, but it's come up more than once and I find that it's difficult to answer. Part of me feels compelled to answer "Yes!" emphatically because there are so many things that I love about Vancouver that I haven't yet found in San Francisco - great, cheap Japanese food, the ability to walk to a forest and a beach simultaneously, good friends, mountains...

That said, I'm not homesick. I can only presume that this is because I already consider this to be home, which seems like an uncharacteristically rapid adaptation. I mainly attribute the ease of the transition to the "home is where the heart is" factor that I contemplated in a previous post. Having hauled all of our stuff here also helps. I try not to become too attached to material possessions, but climbing into a familiar bed and lounging on our sustainable couch is rather comforting.

Then there are all the great qualities of San Francisco that serve as excellent distractions from any potential feelings of homesickness. When we first visited a few years ago, my first impression of the city was that it was an awesome hybrid between Vancouver and Montreal. San Francisco has the scenic, west coast vibe of Vancouver combined with the history, character, and charm of Montreal. My first impressions have been validated so far and I'm really enjoying life here. Being able to wear sandals in November is just an added bonus.

Filed under // San Francisco Vancouver

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November 8, 2009 12:09 PM

plenty of fish

When we left Vancouver, our friends Mark and Stephanie gave us some money as a gift with specific instructions for spending it. Mark described a place in San Francisco that he had read about consisting of an aquarium, a biodome, and a planetarium under one roof and insisted that we visit it. Kevin and I forgot the name of the attraction, but intended on looking it up once we got settled here.

Yesterday morning over coffee, we were discussing weekend plans with our roommate and the latest houseguest (houseguests are a regular occurrence here). We had none and Paul was going to the California Academy of Sciences (the CalAcademy) with a friend. I asked what that was and Paul described it as an aquarium, a biodome, and a planetarium under one (green) roof. Assuming that this must be the place Mark referred us to, we went along.

The CalAcademy was great, especially the aquarium. The re-created tropical seascape reminded me of the course I took at McGill that involved two weeks in Barbados studying the coral reef ecosystem (Kevin claims that I only enrol in programs where I get credits to travel to warm destinations - I also went to Baja Mexico for a grad school course). Many of the fish were familiar, but many of the names had evaporated from my memory. Proof of the "if you don't use it, you lose it" principle.

The dark rooms of the aquarium were packed full of families (consequence of going on a weekend), including small children captivated by colourful fish schooling amongst the coral in the huge tanks. Unlike me, they had names for many of the fishees, such as Nemo and Dora.

Standing before the glass, mesmerized by the fish swimming to and fro in their limited habitat, I couldn't help but contemplate the potential for coral reefs to become artifacts in my lifetime, seen only in aquariums and natural history museums. The prospect of not being able to snorkel in natural living reef ecosystems with parrotfish, eels, butterflyfish, angelfish, urchins, groupers... the list goes on, is disturbing and depressing but highly likely, due in part to climate change:

It is clear that anthropogenic climate change is already negatively impacting the world’s corals and coral reefs. The threat will almost surely grow over the next several decades as the concentration of atmospheric carbon dioxide increases and ocean warming and acidification accelerate. Predicting future impacts of climate change on corals and coral reefs is complicated given all the uncertainty about the political response, future technologies, changes in human behavior, the earth climate system and the actual effects on reef inhabitants. But even conservative forecasts suggest that we could loose coral reef ecosystems by the end of the 21st century.

Bruno, John (Lead Author); Mark McGinley (Topic Editor). 2008. "Coral reefs and climate change." In: Encyclopedia of Earth. Eds. Cutler J. Cleveland (Washington, D.C.: Environmental Information Coalition, National Council for Science and the Environment). [First published in the Encyclopedia of Earth December 19, 2007; Last revised August 26, 2008; Retrieved November 8, 2009]

We didn't make it into the biodome because of the long line, but I'm thinking we'll get a membership to the CalAcademy and go back.

Click here to download:

plenty_of_fish.zip (2321 KB)

Filed under // San Francisco science & technology sustainability

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November 6, 2009 12:45 PM

one week

We arrived in San Francisco a week ago last night. Somehow, it feels like I've been here much longer. Although most of my time has been spent unpacking and setting up in the new place - which is multifacetedly amazing (amenities, location, intangibles) - it seems like we've done a lot. Here are a couple highlights (beyond the excitement of living on a street lined with palm trees):

tennis is mdp

Despite being off work for over a month now, I'm still prone to using acronyms for communication. In this case, MDP refers to Mission Delores Park.

photo via Dpmath (cc)

On Sunday afternoon, after a morning of more unpacking, Greg peered down from the loft (yup, the apartment has a loft), still looking a bit rough around the edges following from the Halloween-induced imbibing that he participated in the night before, and asked if we might, by any chance, have tennis racquets. Surprisingly, we do.

Neither one of us plays tennis but we lived near tennis courts in Vancouver and I had romantic visions of invigorating early morning games of tennis, which inspired me to buy some tennis paraphernalia on Craigslist. My visions were shattered by our 'games' consisting mainly of chasing errant balls around the courts - not romantic or invigorating by any stretch of the imagination.

Greg asked if he could borrow the racquets, unless we wanted to join him and a few friends at the courts. Once we had established that the game would be friendly rather than competitive (i.e., many errant balls would be tolerated), we agreed to come along.

Sitting eating salted caramel ice cream (I'm told it's a local speciality) while waiting for an opening on the courts, followed by a few very friendly matches with nice people as the sun slowly set behind the hill and the full moon rose into the pinkish sky above the adjacent city block, it was a perfect afternoon in a new city. It felt like summer all over again.

old friends in new places

The day after we arrived, I got an email from Freya saying that she and Clinton were going to be in San Francisco on Sunday night and Monday and asking if we would be free to hang out. My response: of course! I've known Freya since I was in grade 3 when we were both tomboys living on farms. Afternoons spent in the woods making forts with sticks and moss with Freya and my sister and swimming in the pond are vivid childhood memories. I also distinctly recall a sleepover at her place involving a bat in the house that we had to trap and release using a towel. Good times.

Hosting Freya in San Francisco was a bit surreal, but it was great to see a familiar face in a strange place. We took the BART (like the Metro/SkyTrain but with more limited downtown coverage and with disgusting carpeting) downtown and walked around Chinatown, North Beach, and the Financial district, noting periodically that we were wearing t-shirts in November. The good times continue.

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