san francisco

4 AM

When will I ever learn?

I couldn’t sleep AGAIN last night, and not because of a crazy downstairs neighbor. I stupidly had some green tea in the late afternoon. I didn’t think it was that strong, but obviously it was.

On top of that, we have mosquitoes! What the fuck, San Francisco? I thought you had no mosquitoes. I guess it’s been the very warm, followed by the very chilly weather we’ve been having these past couple of weeks.

Last weekend MB discovered a bite on his (shaved) head, and I had one on my forehead. We thought it was from our walk out to Haight-Ashbury. But earlier this week, I’ve had more bites: on my face, hand, feet, arms, and calf.

The bites are super tiny and disappear fast, nothing like the ones I’d get in New York which would swell to the size of a half dollar and be insanely itchy. These are more just an annoyance, especially since I can’t find the little buggers. I *think* I saw them yesterday, and if that was them, they are incredibly fast and tiny. There’s no way I can hunt them down like I did back east, where the skeeters were big, slow, and stupid.

So last night not only was I wakeful because of the tea, I was paranoid about mosquitoes. Luckily the weather has cooled down, so I could blast the ceiling fan and cover most of myself with a blanket. But I was up for a long time brushing away every tickle on my face, whether lint, hair, or actual little pest.

Yesterday I worked on my writing, though not enough to my satisfaction. At least I got draft pitches down, as well as a draft of an essay, and started catching up TNB reading. Today I will probably type up/revise/focus on the essay (which is a little all over the place right now), but also want to get out of the house. Shopping! Haven’t done that in a while.

I discovered that Real Simple is having their annual essay contest now. Totally entering it! Though the deadline is coming up very soon.

The complaining comments on the page crack me up. How dare the judges give the prize to a 10th grade English teacher? Surely she has an up on everyone! Um, hello, the magazine awards the best essay, and the best essay not only has to have a great story, it has to be told well. And yes, perhaps an English teacher or professional writer will tell that story better. Them’s the breaks. What should they do, say, “If you get paid to write, teach people to write, teach English, were an English major, ever wrote something ever in your life, you’re not eligible”? That makes total sense.

Idiots.

san francisco / TV / what i'm reading now / what i've been watching / writing — 1 Comment
26
Aug 10

A hodgepodge, mishmash, melange, medley, jumble, gallimaufry, farrago of a blog post

Working with words all day, of course I have to say more than just “hodgepodge.”

Earlier this week, San Francisco had a mini heat wave. Three days of temps in the upper 80s and low to mid 90s. Of course here it’s not too humid, but the sun is much stronger, and walking around on Tuesday was killer. MB and I had lunch in Union Square, and there was absolutely no one sunning himself. Everyone was hiding in the shade – aside from one drunk homeless guy – and all the birds were breathing with their beaks wide open, a definite sign of hotness.

It was tough to sleep even with both ceiling fans going and MB’s ghetto A/C (the bathtub filled with cold water). Thank goodness yesterday it started to cool down. By the time I got home, it was foggy and chilly, and last night was prefectly cool and comfortable.

Carolina Baker over at GirlHabits interviewed me, and the write-up is now up. It was a lot of fun, and some of my own answers surprised me. When I thought about what I wanted to be known for, I realized I didn’t really want to be known for anything. It’s funny how others’ perception of me isn’t that big of a concern anymore. I mean, in individual situations, sure. Are people interested in something I’ve written? Am I saying something different? Am I being putting myself out there enough before calling out other people? But I’m not too concerned with how I come off, or how I’m known, apart from my writing.

The superpower question was fun too. At first I thought, Of course I’d fly or be invisible, but then I realized more than anything, I want to be Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Echo from Dollhouse. I want to be essentially normal except that I’m very strong and fast and can kick anyone’s butt.

We just started watching The Wire. I know: two years too late. I’d always heard it mentioned and thought it was about a newspaper for some reason. But it’s not. It’s about police in Baltimore and it’s a damned good show. At first I thought it was a little boring, but now I’m completely obsessed by it. We’re finishing up season 1 tonight. No spoilers please!

My boss lent me Kathleen Norris’ Saturday’s Child, a novel written back around 1915 and set at that time in San Francisco. It’s kind of fluffy but I’m enjoying it all the same. It’s basically a romance between a young working woman and a rich flighty dude. I love all the mentions of SF, as well as what everyone is wearing and what they’re eating.

Well that’s enough of this farrago. Off to the gym and yoga!

rant and/or rave / san francisco — 2 Comments
19
Jul 10

More fun on the bus

This morning I apparently insulted the woman next to me when I shifted slightly over as she jabbed her elbow into me while rifling through her bag.

“If you don’t want to be touched, get off the bus,” she advised me.

I calmly regarded her. “It’s nothing personal,” I said.

I’d rather not be touched by any weird, inconsiderate person who reeks of cigarette smoke.

Okay, so maybe it was personal.

rant and/or rave / san francisco — 1 Comment
08
Jul 10

Only in San Francisco

1) On the Caltrain last week, I managed to sit behind a man and a woman who spent the whole ride exchanging prescription meds.

They seemed to be in their late 40s. The guy was white, and the woman possibly Philipina. She had one of those smoked-a-billion cigarettes voices and was clearly on something that made her really hyper. At the top of her lungs, she extolled the virtues of Percocet and Oxycontin.

At one point, I noticed her peeking at me through the crack between the seats (I had put on my headphones with the hopes of drowning them out). She had dropped her water bottle apparently. Instinctively I thought, Be nice to the crazy lady, and looked under my seat. No water bottle.

“Oh, I must have recycled the wrong one!” she said excitedly.

When she finally deboarded, she was such a mess, she ended up dropping a couple of tea bags, except they were not tea. Then I saw the guy’s backpack was FILLED with prescription bottles. Classy.

2) On the bus yesterday, a white, dowdy middle-aged couple talked loudly about BDSM the whole ride.

“When I tied someone up, I like to use. . .”

“I wouldn’t do it in the yard. I wouldn’t do it outside.”

I couldn’t hear everything they said, but enough snippets to feel really embarrassed (so call me a prude) and relieved when they got off the bus.

3) Down the street there are a pair of crapped-in jeans. They are as disgusting as they sound. They’ve been there a few days, and I keep forgetting not to walk on that side of the street.

Only in San Francisco.

san francisco — 1 Comment
25
May 10

Crazy bus people

Now that I’m riding the bus more, I’m encountering more crazy people, up close and personal.

Yesterday morning, we stopped for a wheelchair. Now when I hear “wheelchair,” I imagine someone sitting, unable to walk, not someone using the chair as a means to carry their stuff. But this old woman got on, pushing her chair full of whatever stuff she had, barking at a poor woman to move her bag (which was already pretty much out of the way) and another woman to change seats so that she could be near said wheelchair. Then she proceeded to talk the ear off a young black guy who looked at her like she was nuts.

“Now it’s the Chinese people who hate us!” was the only thing I heard her say.

On the bus ride home, I sat across from yet another older woman. No wheelchair, just a crazy-long bright purple manicure, with which she ate a donut. At her stop, someone’s bag got stuck in the stairs. Obviously the woman was having trouble loosening her bag, to the point that another young woman helped her. Still the old lady yelled, “Let me off! Can’t you see I’m trying to get off?”

Can’t you see the whole world doesn’t revolve around you?

I’m sure I’ll encounter a lot more crazy bus people in the days to come.

body / san francisco / writing — 2 Comments
07
May 10

Busy like a hummingbird

I was pretty busy this week for a change. I had four dinky articles to research and write, plus two personal essays (one of which is up now). I finished everything yesterday so today actually does feel like Friday to me, instead of just a random day.

Yesterday one of my SF pals and I went to the Botanical Gardens. Beautiful of course! There weren’t as many flowers as weird plants and trees, which in a way was more interesting. Also, I kept spotting cool birds, like these two that were like pheasants dart across a walkway behind a bush, and this teeny tiny bright red and orange hummingbird sitting on top of a tall cactus.

“Look at that tiny bird,” I said. Then it went shooting off, hovering so high above us. Suddenly it did a dive bomb into a grassy area, so fast we actually heard its wings whirring. Then back up, hover, and ZOOOOM! back down. It was pretty fucking cool.

I was telling MB that the animals in NJ/NY are far less interesting. Pigeons, gross (though of course there are plenty of pigeons here as well). While weird and interesting birds frequent Central Park sometimes, they’re not easy to spot. Except for cardinals and blue jays, all the animals in NJ are brown and gray – deer, rabbits, gophers, squirrels, chipmunks – as woodland creatures tend to be.

Afterward my friend and I headed over to the Japanese Tea Garden, like we did last time, and like last time, I totally got a spam musubi. Yum!

In other writing news, I got a notice yesterday that I’m a finalist in this nonfiction contest I entered a few months ago. Yippee! I’ll find out the results early next month.

Today I need to work on my next post for The Nervous Breakdown, which I’ve been neglecting for this past couple of weeks.

Yesterday I was looking for pictures of myself for an upcoming article. Damn was I skinny a few years ago! I mean, I knew I was thin, but compared to now: totally skinny.

I know I’ve gained some weight over the past couple of years. Last week I got on the scale for the first time in a while: ten pounds. I suspected as such.

While I was heartened by a recent WSJ article that said being 10 to 15 pounds overweight isn’t bad, and in fact may help stave off osteoporosis and make you look younger, I still miss skinny me. I want to lose if not all ten extra pounds, then five. It’s so tough nowadays, between getting older and eating more to catch up with MB. When I was single, I ate much less. Plus I was doing more long runs.

body / san francisco — 1 Comment
23
Apr 10

Take a gelato, some flowers, and Coco, and call me in the morning

I’ve been trying to be active this week despite my vertigo, which seems to be improving by the way. I went to the gym a few times – though I did much lighter workouts – and have continued to do the exercises we found online. While earlier in the week, the exercises would induce vertigo (which is normal), yesterday and this morning, they didn’t at all. I still feel woozy most of time, as though I’m getting over the flu, but I definitely feel better.

Just in time for my insurance to get approved! Even though I’m feeling better, I’m still going to see a doctor, just in case. I’m starting to think it was actually a sinus infection. I felt a lot of sinus pressure this week, which also explains my general icky feeling.

Walking around and being active definitely helps. On Wednesday, I met SCG for gelato in the Ferry Building. It was a very nice walk and fun to hang out. Yesterday I went with another SF pal to see the Bouquets to Art exhibit at the de Young. Apparently it’s a big yearly event and lasts only four days since the flowers die.

My friend suggested getting there early, a great idea since by noon it was packed with every old lady from the Bay Area. The floral pieces were mostly pretty cool. Some were impressionistic, some were too literal for my taste. And there were TONS. By the time we worked our way down to the first floor, we were both sort of pooped.

We popped into the Japanese Tea Garden afterward, where we got some delicious tea and I got a Spam musubi, which if you don’t already know is fried Spam on rice wrapped in seaweed, basically a Spam roll. It was so freaking good.

Last night MB and I saw Conan O’Brien perform. It was pretty entertaining, basically like one of his late night shows but on steroids and without talking to celebrity guests. I mean, he did have famous guests, including Reggie Watts (whom MB loves) and Chris Isaak.

It ended at 11, and we were both already tired. Luckily the show was at the Nob Hill Masonic Center, which is just a few blocks from our place.

Today needs to be a “work” day – gym in a little while, then writing all afternoon.

I’m still waiting to hear from a couple of jobs I applied for, while on Wednesday I got the quickest rejection ever. Applied in the morning, rejected by mid-afternoon. At least they’re efficient.

food / new york / rant and/or rave / san francisco — 6 Comments
16
Mar 10

I miss Pick-a-Bagel

Today for lunch I was really craving a bagel with tuna salad, a staple in most New York delis. When I lived on the Upper East Side, I’d get one from Pick-a-Bagel or the more expensive Sable’s, if I felt like splurging.

There’s no Pick-a-Bagel around here so I popped into a nearby cafe which makes a big deal about serving organic, fair-trade coffee. But they also have sandwiches and, yes, bagels.

I said to the girl, “Could I get a bagel with tuna salad?” to which the girl replied, “Tuna salad. . .on a BAGEL???” like it was the weirdest fucking thing she ever heard.

“Yes,” I said. “Tuna salad on a bagel.”

“So, like a sandwich, but with a bagel?”

“Yes.”

She bent over the cash register, trying to figure out how to ring me up. “That’ll be $10.95.”

WHAT?

She explained that the sandwich platters came with salad, hence the ridiculous price.

“All I want,” I said, “is a bagel with tuna. Like instead of a bagel with butter, imagine a bagel with tuna.” I didn’t say “imagine” but really wanted to.

She finally figured it out.

I mean, I know it’s not so common around here, but you have bagels, you have tuna salad – voila, you have a bagel with tuna salad.

Voi-fucking-la. Dumbshit.

friends / san francisco — 2 Comments
25
Feb 10

San Francisco in six days

My friend ES visited me these past few days, and we had a great time exploring the city, trying new foods, and just hanging out (mostly watching the Olympics).

Thursday

We met up at the Asian Art Museum. We both wanted to see the Shanghai exhibit. It was interesting to see how dramatically the city’s changed over the course of time. I find the Communist propaganda posters fascinating, and could see a whole exhibit just on that. Outside the exhibit were some cool sculptures.

Friday

The next day we tried to eat brunch at Elite Cafe, but it’s only open for brunch on the weekends. Damn! We made do with The Grove, which was just okay. Their breakfasts are better than their sandwich fare, but I was starving so whatever.

Next stop was La Boulange down the street. My brother has been recommending the place to me forever, and ES has been there before. They have beautiful pastries.

I got one chocolate and one almond croissant. I was disappointed with the chocolate, but the almond one was delicious! (I didn’t eat them all in one sitting, by the way)

Then we walked around Japantown, which was very apropos since it was the same time of year – around the strawberry-loving Japanese holiday of Girls’ Day – that we were in Tokyo.

I insisted at first stopping at the New People Cafe for some delicious Blue Bottle coffee. I still say their mocha is the best in town, better even than Philz.

We spent some time in the New People store as well since neither of us had ever been. Basically, it’s fun – and expensive – Japanese toys and collectors’ items.

We spent some time in the different stores, then had dinner at Suzu Noodle House. For some reason, I thought it was new, but it’s clearly not, given the date of the linked review. There was a long wait, and one of the women waiting told us it was “so good,” so we had high hopes. My assessment? Average.

It was definitely good, and at $8.95 for a shio ramen, pretty reasonably priced, but the noodles don’t hold a candle to the ones we had in Tokyo years ago.

Saturday

It was a beautiful day so we headed out to the Mission District. We both have been, but we wanted to take our time and photograph the many murals. . .

. . .and try some food.

That night we saw Wicked. It was very good, very entertaining. But the musical really takes liberties with the book. I absolutely loved the book. I didn’t really hate the changes – they were well-suited for a popular, family-oriented show – but it made the story very different.

Sunday

An awful rainy day. We tried taking the bus back out to Fillmore, but after ten minutes in the rain, it didn’t show so we hopped a cab, which was totally worth the delicious brunch at the Elite Cafe.

I usually get the Alabama Scramble (which ES enjoyed), but this time tried the corned beef hash. It was really delicious.

The Elite seems to be another place that does really good breakfast and so so lunch entrees.

Since it was such a rainy day, we thought a museum would be a good idea, the California Academy of Sciences, which neither of us had been to before.

It was great fun, especially the aquarium and indoor rainforest, where butterflies kept landing on people.

You can’t tell but this butterfly had gorgeous bright blue wings, and I think was attracted to people wearing blue. Before landing on this girl, it had alighted on the hand of a boy in a blue T-shirt.

After a while though, the dive bombing butterflies made me paranoid so I had to leave.

Another highlight was the planetarium, which brought back memories of class trips to the American Museum of Natural History in New York, but also gave me motion sickness (so I’m a wuss).

Afterward we went out to the Ferry Building, my first time. Unfortunately almost everything was closed, but it was nice to walk around.

We ate at Slanted Door, a chi chi Vietnamese place. It was just okay, to tell the truth. I liked my spring roll appetizer, and the green papaya salad was AMAZING, but our entrees were average. Mine, the stir fried chicken, had little bones or date pits scattered throughout. It’s not fun to be chewing then suddenly bite on something hard.

We rode the F line out to Fisherman’s Wharf. There was a guy who didn’t have change for a $20 so a bunch of us – all New Yorkers, coincidentally, including the guy – banded together to give him change.

Monday

ES had the great idea of renting a car and exploring the further parts of the city. First stop: Richmond, home of delicious dim sum and other Chinese eats. I was able to finally get in my dumplings for the New Year.

Next stop was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and taking in the view.

It was really breath taking. I also loved watching the animals, like the pelicans that kept circling overhead, the deer we saw grazing (and pooping), and other various birds. This blue bird – or jay? – let us take its picture.

You can see the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.

On our way back to dropping off the car, we drove to Haight-Ashbury, and did a quick walk. For dinner we went to Pesce on Polk Street. It’s tapas style Italian and was pretty good. We shared a vegetable risotto – good though needed salt – a braised duck with pappardelle, some kind of pork with gnocchi, and brussel sprouts. Everything was tasty.

ES also got this oyster vodka shooter. She said it was delicious. I took her word for it.

Tuesday

MB was coming home from a conference at around noon so I begged off for a few hours while ES went exploring on her own. Later we caught up at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, which had interesting exhibits on Mein Kampf and about a scribe writing the Torah.

It was another terribly rainy day, but we made it onto a bus that would take us to our appointments at the Imperial Day Spa, a traditional Korean-style spa and sauna. It was a very unique experience. You strip down buck naked, soak in a tub and/or do a sauna, then get scrubbed within an inch of your life by one of several Chinese ladies in matching burgundy bra and panties.

It sounds sexy, but it’s so not. These ladies are strong and work hard. Oh, and you don’t have your own private room complete with soothing music like at some ritzy place – you’re in a communal room with other naked women. You lie on a plastic mat and have buckets of hot water thrown on you (which actually feels amazing).

I may be able to get ~~an article~~ fun post out of this experience, in addition to my silky smooth skin. Either way, it was a fun, and weirdly bonding, activity to cap off ES’s stay.

Now back to the grind for everyone!

See all my photos taken during ES’s visit.

body / san francisco / spa — 4 Comments
24
Feb 10

Naked

I’m not adverse to paying strangers to touch me. My limbs have been “polished” with lavender infused sea salt. My pores have been squeezed into oblivion. I’ve been subjected to the powerful knees and elbows of a deceptively tiny Thai woman. But none prepared me for the Imperial Day Spa.

Traditional Korean bath houses made news last year when Ellen DeGeneres talked about the awkwardness of getting recognized at one while completely naked. That’s what distinguishes jimjilbang from typical Western spas. Robes and towels are often thrown to the wayside, and it’s like Oh! Calcutta! with hot tubs.

In a somewhat sketchy outskirt of Japantown, the building was window-less, the neon sign more car dealership than spa. Across the parking lot, a KFC emanated its pungent cloud of chicken greasiness. Inside, however, we were greeted by a friendly young Asian woman and, a sure sign of cleanliness, the aroma of bleach.

My friend and I had signed up for the full body scrub and massage, ninety minutes of exfoliation, oil massage, hair washing, and facial. We were instructed to arrive thirty minutes early for a shower, soak, and sauna.

We knew we’d have to be naked. Full on, buck-wild naked. I don’t mind being topless – I have hardly any boobs to speak of – but the only times I go bottomless are at the gynecologist’s and while getting a Brazilian (which is a whole other story), neither a pleasant experience. The bathing area was already full of buck-wild naked women showering. What else could we do but disrobe and shower too.

There’s something about seeing a friend in the buff. Strangers, who cares. But nudity, like drinking glasses and toothbrushes, is not necessarily something you want to share with someone you’re not sleeping with. But after a while, we somehow forgot our clothes-less state.

(I have a friend who’s a stand up comedian. Correction: a stand up comedian who likes to be naked. It’s not enough for him to naked at home, he must be naked on stage too. More times than I care to admit, I’ve seen this friend, and other comedians, some funny, some bad, some awful, naked on stage. They claim to forget they’re naked. Now I believe them.)

There were a few spa-goers who seemed like regulars. They had a whole routine: shower first, then dry sauna, cold dip, wet sauna, and finally, a hot soak. Unlike me, they also seemed perfectly comfortable in their own and everyone else’s in-the-buffness. Unlike me, they didn’t stare.

While soaking in the hot tub (and staring), I noticed a few Asian woman walking around in their bra and underwear. I assumed they were shy (unlike the older Korean lady who had no qualms about arising steamy and au naturel from the sauna to plop her rathery jiggly bum on a stool and vigorously wash herself at one of the sit down showers) but I soon learned they worked there.

“Thirty-seven!” one lady called. “Forty-three!” yelled another. We were up.

Carefully treading up the slippery steps, we found a very wet room full of the aforementioned Asian women in matching burgundy bras and panties, wiping down what looked like doctor’s examination tables covered in plastic. No privacy here, that was for sure. There was water everywhere, big barrels, small barrels, dripping from faucets, running across the floor.

You’d think Asian ladies + bra and panties = sexy. It does not, at least not with short stocky women who could break you in two. I imagined them pulling babies from stubborn wombs, slamming the dirt out of laundry on a rock, and carrying their husbands, drunk and passed out, on their backs home to Richmond and Sunset.

My friend and I – did I mention we were naked? – were instructed to climb face-down onto our respective tables. Across the room, I saw a pale, red-haired woman lying perfectly peacefully, as though poolside at her own private estate.

Blind to my surroundings, I heard the splash of water and suddenly a tidal wave of hot water was thrown over me.

“Whoop!” I whooped involuntarily.

“Hot?” my lady, Julie, asked, amused.

“It’s okay,” I said.

Another splash of water – which began to feel pretty damned good – and Julie got to work.

Now: I think I take pretty good care of my skin. I slather on moisturizer every day, and give myself a full body buff every week. But apparently it wasn’t enough.

Using a towel, Julie rubbed. She rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, starting from one cracked heel, working her way up and across. She spent an inordinate amount of time polishing my ass (which indeed was soft as a baby’s bum afterward). The backs of my arms, my hands. At times I thought she’d rub me to the bone.

Then it was time to flip me over. Lying with your tush exposed is one thing – stretched out with your hoohah unveiled is quite another. Again, I thought of a Brazilian, and was grateful that Julie was not about to slap hot wax on me and RIP.

Once I was scoured within an inch of my life, she swabbed warm liquid on me – oil? milk? – then splashed me again with hot water, which was like a luscious liquid blanket. “Stand please,” she said, and splashed me again, from both sides. She handed me a towel, then rinsed and wiped the table clean of the nuclear fallout of my dead skin.

After a hurried massage (during which my friend opened her eyes and was alarmed to find that Julie had climbed onto my table and was straddling me as she pounded my back) and shampoo, and a cumcuber-y facial, I was rinsed once again with a hot liquid. I stood once more, and she gave me a final douse of hot water.

The result? Silky soft skin that lasted for weeks. Would I do it again? I just might. I imagine a whole routine, a night of beauty if you will, like the regulars. Deep condition the hair, exfoliate body and face, rinse, repeat.

But perhaps I’d rather go solo, no offense to friends. Like Ellen, I’d prefer not to be recognized while naked.

Angela Tung Oversharing on the internet since 2005.