hyphenated - Filed under 'San Francisco'

May 8, 2010 9:39 AM

bivalves and the beach

Last weekend, we planned a trip up to Point Reyes for oysters. Well, not so much planned as discussed the idea over drinks on Thursday night with the conversation ending affirmatively. On Friday, a Google calendar event was created with start and end times on Sunday. On Sunday morning, half an hour before the proposed start time, we texted our friend, who had assumed the status of event organizers because: a) he had been to eat oysters in Point Reyes before and we all considered him an expert on the subject, b) he had a Zipcar membership and had volunteered to drive, and c) he had set up the calendar event, to confirm. He was running late, but we were good to go. At this point, all I knew was our day would involve oysters and a beach.

Just before noon, we all pilled into the swanky Zipcar. "All" consisted of five people and a small dog. We bough snacks (first things first) at Trader Joe's before navigating (i.e., Google mapping) our way to the Golden Gate and through Marin County. Some motion sickness ensued, but was tempered by ginger chews and playing the front-seat-of-the-car version of musical chairs at the stops that were required to locate ourselves when we lost cell coverage.

Oysters were procured. A spot on the beach was claimed. The spot was adjacent to a group of people listening to Van Morrison followed by Tom Petty. Their conversation was at once asinine and entertaining (e.g., "Imagine if Tom Petty cruised by on a boat playing this song. Wouldn't you just have to run down to the water's edge and dance? You'd just have to. How cool would that be?").

We ate oysters. Kevin and I learned how to shuck (a skill which I'm contemplating adding to my resume). Amidst the perceived lack of planning, the event organizer had brought a charcoal grill and all the ingredients for a yummy horseradish sauce. Soda cans served as wine glasses. A lid to a container was a cutting board for shallots (which were added to some of the larger oysters, along with some thyme and wine, before putting them on the grill just long enough to cook ever so slightly). We ate more oysters. We lounged in the late-day sun before packing up and heading home, back over the Golden Gate with the last remnants of sunlight highlighting the horizon. A great day.

The necessary postscript to this story is that if you told me ten years ago that I'd get excited and derive enjoyment from eating loads of oysters in one sitting, I would've call you crazy. Everything about oysters made me cringe: the mucousy texture, the fact that they're consumed raw and alive, the risk of food poisoning. But, I've gotten past the texture issue by sticking to the smaller ones (the really big ones are still gag-inducing to some extent) and I've gotten to a point where I'm not willing to sacrifice amazing eats for a fear of food poisoning. Some risks are worth it, especially those with relatively low probabilities. Admittedly, the alive factor was the last hurdle. I got past that by not thinking too much about it (which is exactly how most people are able to stomach eating meat, right?) until I read this really interesting article in the New York Times. Now, I can think about it without it affecting my appetite. The sustainability argument is an added bonus. In any case, I'm doubtful that any vegans will be jumping on the oyster bandwagon anytime soon. If they do, oysters might be the gateway substance of the meat and animal products realm. It's a slippery slope.

Click here to download:

bivalves_and_the_beach.zip (2228 KB)

Filed under // family & friends food San Francisco sustainability

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March 11, 2010 12:02 PM

mmmaple syrup

My morning routine has changed quite drastically since moving to San Francisco. The change has less to do with being unemployed (a combination of volunteer/intern work and personal projects provides motivation to get up at a reasonable hour) and more to do with having an iPhone.

Previously, I would wake up to the sound of CBC radio 1 emanating from my circa-1992 radio alarm clock and I'd lay in bed for awhile listening to the day's top stories and the weather (and get annoyed by Rick Cluff's tendency to trivialize and patronize). Now, I roll over, take my iPhone off the nightstand (the radio alarm clock was deemed obsolete) and check my email, scan Twitter and Facebook, peruse the NYT headlines, and check the weather... in four cities: San Francisco, Vancouver, and Montreal.

Despite being severely lacking in detail and featuring obscure icons (what exactly should I expect when presented with an icon of the sun from which rain is failing without any clouds in the picture?), the weather app for the iPhone allows me to get a sense of what the weather is like in the places I feel connected to.

Most days, the comparison brings a smile to my face because the weather in SF tops that in the other cities (I've been warned that this will change come summer) but other days, like today, the weather also brings back memories as I conjure up past experiences that I associate with the time of year depicted by the forecast.

Along with remembering soggy walks to work in Vancouver, I thought about maple syrup this morning. Today's forecast in Montreal is perfect for sugaring off (which takes place in the rural areas around Montreal, including my hometown, Hemmingford). Warm days combined with nights where the mercury drops below freezing gets the sweet sap running.

My parents tapped some of the maple trees around our house for a few years, getting enough sap to distill down to a decent amount of syrup. I remember tramping around the woods, stomping in the patches of remaining snow, peeking into the pails to see if any sap had accumulated, and occasionally taking sips to taste the slightly sweet liquid that dripped so slowly from the trees. John had built an outdoor oven of sorts with a trough on the top for making syrup. We'd pour the sap into the trough and it would boil down to leave the delicious auburn syrup. We'd all sit around the oven, soaking in the spring sun (believe me, 8°C feels downright balmy after a few months temperatures averaging between -10 and -25°C) and keeping the fire burning. I can only imagine that I might have asked "is it ready yet?" enough to be considered annoying.

After a few years, perhaps after the novelty had warn off, my family stopped making our own maple syrup. Instead, we would help friends with their much larger, commercial syrup operation in exchange for cans of the dark, thick, smoky syrup that isn't considered high quality by supermarket shoppers. The dark stuff might not look so pretty, but it's very tasty.

We kids would help to some extent, handing empty cans from the box to the person operating the canning machine or dragging wood inside to fuel the boiler, but we largely played in the heat of the shanty. Play powered by massive sugar highs because doing quality control (i.e., drinking maple syrup straight up) was another way that the children helped.

This morning, I added some maple syrup to sweeten and flavor my yogurt and granola. The syrup was produced at the shanty where I used to 'help' and was given to us as a wedding gift by the friends who make it. Knowing where it came from and the simple, organic way it is produced, this maple syrup is especially tasty.

Now, I'm going to take advantage of the beautiful weather (and being unemployed) by going for a walk this afternoon.

Filed under // family & friends food Quebec & Montreal San Francisco Vancouver

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February 17, 2010 6:15 PM

compare and contrast

My parents are coming to visit from Montreal (et environs) tomorrow! I'm excited to tour around San Francisco together while they enjoy a respite from the cold and snow and, undoubtedly, compare this city to their hometown. When visiting a new place, it seems like human nature to construct an impression based on the familiar. Indeed, having had a few months to explore this city I find myself subconsciously comparing it to the other cities in which I've lived.

My preliminary conclusion is that San Francisco is a nice hybrid of Vancouver and Montreal. It has a west coast vibe but also the artsy, cultured, historical elements of Montreal. Using a food simile (the best kind of simile, if you ask me), Vancouver is like a lightly-dressed salad while Montreal is like shepherd's pie (or, as the Québecois refer to it, pâté chinois). And San Francisco is like shepherd's pie and lightly dressed salad, together in a tortilla, à la burrito. Yum (assuming that the beef is pasture-raised and organic, of course).

I don't seem to be the only person comparing San Francisco to Montreal. I came across this blog post, in which the author postulates that historic Montreal and San Francisco bear many geographical similarities based on these two photos:

Click here to download:

compare_and_contrast.zip (381 KB)

Among the many differences that the blogger fails to note is that, with the exception of Mount-Royal, Montreal is way flatter than San Francisco. Google should include contour lines for its maps of San Francisco, or at least advise when walking will suddenly transition to stair-climbing.

Filed under // Quebec & Montreal San Francisco Vancouver

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January 26, 2010 11:34 AM

learning to program through osmosis

There are times when I wish learning by osmosis was less dream and more reality. Studying for exams is probably the circumstance where I wished this the most (you know: step 1 - place textbook under pillow, step 2 - sleep, step 3 - wake up refreshed the next morning knowing the contents of all 14 chapters and the glossary, step 4 - ace exam). But I've also fantasized about learning by osmosis when it came to developing some basic web design and programming skills. Before I mislead you into thinking that I developed a way to do just that, the closest I've gotten to living the dream is by moving to San Francisco, being unemployed, and living with four YC alumni.

I've created some websites in the past using WYSIWYG editors. I won't be posting links to them here because they're, well, ugly. At the time, I didn't have time to learn enough HTML and CSS to do away with Dreamweaver and tables and all of their inherently frustrating limitations.

In contrast, when I arrived in SF I had time. Lots and lots of time. And I had a premise for a site. And I was surrounded by guys and their Macbooks and their nearly constant creativity. Not only were they creating things, they were creative in the sense that creativity is synonymous with innovation, initiative, enterprise, and resourcefulness. And I was inspired. I bought a domain.

After asking my roommies a few questions, I concluded that I was starting so close to knowing nothing about web development that perusing the results of Google searches would suffice as my guide. Sensei Google. I borrowed an O'Reilly book, but found myself returning to Google for tidbits of assistance (with a background in biology, most of my time with the O'Reilly book was spent speculating on what the species of fish was on the cover... salmon, in case you're also curious).

I began by mocking stuff out in Photoshop by following a few online tutorials. One of my roommies was hosting a houseguest who worked as a graphic designer, and he shared a few tips and tricks. I played with colours and wondered aloud why Photoshop tools were so counter-intuitive. Needless to say, the ⌘+⌥+Z keys got a lot of use.

Once I had a better idea of what the site would look like, got some feedback from a graphic designer friend, and determined the extent of the site's functionality, I debated whether I should learn Ruby on Rails (the language of choice around here) for the backend. Ultimately, I decided to create a custom theme for Wordpress (despite being warned that Wordpress could be a nightmare). Enter more tutorials.

I started with a template from a tutorial and started modifying it. Trial and error was the name of the game. I came to appreciate that the method isn't called "trail and flawless" - there was a lot of error. Starting with the CSS in a TextEdit window, I made changes, saved, and refreshed. And I did that again and again and again. For awhile, I would enter #000000 and expect white to appear. I then realized that, because the absence of all light/color is black, the nomenclature actually made sense. I got pretty far just by editing the CSS, but reached a point where I couldn't ignore the HTML any longer.

More trial, more error. I'd think that I was on the right track, then I'd make a change, save, refresh, and (fingers crossed) ... error. I began to understand more of the nomenclature. I developed a love-hate, or rather hate-love, relationship with semicolons (hating them when one was missing and the structure of the page suddenly collapsed in a heap of div rubble and loving them when inserting one would miraculously fix everything). When trying to float divs, I found myself envisioning the position of lily-pads in a pond. Eventually, I got to the point where I would make a change in the code and was no longer surprised that the desired change would materialize in the browser window. The code made sense and I was able to appreciate that the code I was using as template was inelegant and inefficient. The experience was analogous to learning the basics of a foreign language using a textbook only to discover that the textbook was poorly written.

Then came Wordpress. Kevin graciously set up the server side of things and I began the process of integration. The tutorial was less than helpful, but I followed it to the best of my limited abilities. Ultimately, Kevin helped me navigate the intersection of HTML and PHP. More trial. More error. But I was learning. As a result, I have a website: www.amerishock.com

It's not perfect, but it's far from fail and it's mine. The design is mine. The underlying structure (minus the Wordpress code) is mine. The idea is mine. And, most importantly, I learned to program. Admittedly, what I learned was very basic but it can still be classified as learning.

While it wasn't learning by osmosis, the learning process was relatively friction-free. Being immersed in a culture where spending hours at home staring into the glowing screen of a laptop is seen as creative and productive, rather than antisocial, makes it easy to put in the time and effort needed to learn to code. And if you already code, I can't help but conclude that living in SF can only be good for productivity. Sharing an apartment with YC alumn can't hurt, either.

Filed under // San Francisco science & technology

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January 15, 2010 1:39 PM

the common bond between worms in SF and cassettes

No soil or earth of any kind is allowed into the United States without a permit issued in advance by USDA Plant Protection and Quarantine Permit Unit

(U.S. Customs and Border Protection)

USDA permits were not my top priority leading up to our move to San Francisco. As a result, I had to leave my plants and the vermicomposter behind in Vancouver. Most of the plants were left in the care of my cousin and the worms were adopted by Miss Maggie. I miss them all (the plants, the worms, my cousin, and Maggie).

In San Francisco, I have yet to acquire new plants (with the exception of this, which I might need to dedicate a blog post to in the future) or a vermicomposter. While I intend to add some flora to spruce up (hehe) our apartment this spring, I won't be procuring any non-arthropod invertebrate fauna.

Given my success with the vermicomposter in Vancouver, I wouldn't hesitate to set up a new bin if I were looking for a sustainable way to dispose of my food waste. But I'm not. To my delight, organics are collected curb-side, along with recycling and trash, in San Francisco. The worms have been rendered obsolete [1].

Our building has a green cart in the basement and I've set up a small organics bin in our apartment, alongside the recycling and the trash, lined with compostable bags and labeled ".compost". Cute, right? Okay, maybe it's just geeky, but I couldn't resist.

[1] Nope, the title of the post has nothing to do with tapeworms (thankfully), in case that's what you might have been initially thinking.

Filed under // San Francisco sustainability

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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 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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