Too Fast Too Furious?

I’ve been pushing it pedal-to-the-metal these past two months. Even for me, I’m starting to find my international mobile lifestyle a bit excessive. After two years in Europe, I am moving to Nairobi, Kenya for my first “real” job in migration research, armed with a recently minted masters diploma and yellow fever vaccine. For the past month, I’ve been in Beirut, Lebanon implementing a passion project that’s been a year coming – an artist development program focusing on digital tools. And right now, I sit in a board game cafe in Taipei, Taiwan, waiting for Kevin to get off work so we can stuff our faces (again). I think my friend captured it best when yesterday he remarked, “You’re a master at getting people to pay you to live in dope places.”

It’s a much nicer statement than the ones I hear from my parents which run along the lines of “When will your craziness settle down?” and “I can’t wait for this wild phase to be over.”

But don’t you worry mom. If anything is the killer of dreams, it is the French bureaucracy and I have been dealt a crushing blow. Cancelled debit cards while abroad, bank counsellors unreachable by email nor telephone, exuberant charges for what should be free services, impossible to cancel transportation subscriptions — all served up with a delightful tone of exasperation from your friendly neighbourhood French bank teller. So as I sit here sipping my coffee, cash-less with a frozen bank account and about to move my entire life to a new continent, I think to myself, “This may just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.” All these oceans and continents traversed, halted by a hostile personal banking system from the 1980’s. Sounds about the perfect au revoir to my chapter in France.

 

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Tell me where you are in the world

It wasn’t until a coworker asked me for recommendations in Copenhagen that I realised my memories were slipping away. Unlike for Cairo or Paris or even Beijing, I did not chronicle anything – no lists kept of favourite cafes, no photo stories, no poetry. What does that mean, if it means anything at all?

My childhood friend just sent out an address spreadsheet to our high school gang group chat, titled “Tell me where you are in the world.” There’s 6 of us in the group, but the title was directed at me. She said she missed the postcards we used to send to each other and wondered when I would blog again and make zines again. As I tackle down what may well be my last semester of school ever, evaluating (or at least musing over) my life choices has become a daily ritual. Making zines has not crossed my radar. For the first time, I’m starting to think, “Am I too old for this?”

Do it for the memories, for the ephemeral experiences, the shot of adrenaline straight down your spine, take charge of the vivacity of youth, see the world, run after it, hunt it down, wrestle them until you swallow whole excitement, wonder, devastating beauty, loss, longing. I do it for those damn fenceposts I wrote about on this blog in 2014. Sometimes I think back on the past few months, or year and I don’t know what I did. Where did it all go? I need something extraordinary upon which to drape my time and staying on the move is how I stake a claim. But I’m starting to feel like it’s losing effectiveness and maybe it’s better to just stay still for a while, to stop being greedy, to embody slowness. Seeing more is not depth.

Anyways, I intended to write a bit about my half-year spent living in Copenhagen. Suffice it to say that I was very content there. I was healthy, I was active, I read books, I drank coffee, I had a rhythm to my life though no friends. And I was content with that. But life doesn’t offer counterfactuals, so maybe I should construct my own.

Thou Shalt Schlep

In typical Wendy fashion, this blog entry is approximately two months late. I am no longer in Chicago. I’m now living in Paris and completing my masters program. 

While lifting off the dusty tarmac of Cairo International Airport, I anticipated the reverse culture shock of arriving back in Chicago after a full year abroad. It took me ten months to adjust to the lack of sidewalks, manic driving, and thick air of Cairo’s metropolitan core. Ten months to consider the two-hour commutes as comfortable, the festive crowds as commonplace, and the unrelenting sun relaxing. What will my charming Midwestern, American city be like after such a crazy ride? Turns out, I needn’t have worried one bit. Returning to the pace of life back home was as effortless as breathing.

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What’s not as effortless as breathing is stomaching full-force Cairo pollution jammed down your lungs.

A couple years too late but home this summer meant working a summer job. The art of the side hustle, the struggle, and the extra mile is an American covenant – Thou shalt schlep.

To that end, this summer I took a serving job at a theme restaurant located in Chicago’s tourist central – Navy Pier. Half motivated by the lucrative tips and half motivated by the thrill of trying something completely new, I signed up to sling fried shrimp and po’ boys five days a week. Trademarked birthday songs, trivia questions at every table, and decor dripping with movie references came neatly packaged in the deal of a summer jaunt on the Pier. Just because I was at home-sweet-home doesn’t mean I should get too comfy, said my inner masochist.

A central belief I have developed for myself over the past few years is to always try new experiences that make me feel uncomfortable, or to push my boundaries of comfort. I was walking behind this group of teenage boys last week on my way to work. One of them had on a t-shirt that read, “Pain is weakness leaving the body” splashed in caps across the back. Similarly, experiencing discomfort is like purging limitations from my mindset. The more you do what you once thought impossible, the more you begin to believe in your unlimited potential.

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Tried hush puppies for the first time ever and my life is changed. Who knew corn, cheese and oil could make such a magnificent orgasmic experience.

If you know me, you would know that I am not loud, pushy, or beguiling. Well those are apparently the three traits one needs to be a successful server. Of course, one should definitely not come off as loud or pushy to the customer, but as I quickly learned, one needs to be forthright in the kitchen and with managers in order to get orders out fast and problems fixed without a hitch. I also come home smelling like fish and chips every night. Mmm beer-battered seafood is quickly becoming my signature scent. I scream. I smell. I schlep. Summer exploration of the many sides of myself is indeed an immersive sensory experience.

Peace, love and coleslaw.

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Still lasted longer than Eric Forman at Fatso Burger.

“I like slice-of-life.”

I am tired. There are so many ways that a person can be tired and I have felt them all this week.

When you’re young, you can have an infinite number of dreams. One morning you can fancy being a conceptual artist. By dinner you can want to be a human rights lawyer and that’s fine because by the time you go to sleep you can dream of being a rapper. Growing up is giving up on having endless dreams and aspirations as you realise there is only time enough to do a handful. It’s not the giving up on any specific dream that breaks me – it’s the loss of the idea of unlimited possibilities.

If I were to move back to the States, I would only really want to live in Chicago. If I were to live in any American city other than the one I call home, I may as well live across the globe. I guess this means I’m homesick.

Running is freedom distilled into a physical movement. You don’t need anything other than what you already got, to go on forever and ever and ever.

I hate how it’s sometimes considered a bad thing for a girl (or a guy) to be really into dressing up, doing their hair, and/or makeup. I appreciate a carefully cultivated aesthetic. The image of a woman is a construction of smoke and mirrors and a spritz of fairy dust. There’s power in that visual. Own it.

I like hugs (but not from strangers).

An Egyptian Family Christmas

It was the morning of Christmas and my apartment smelled like cat piss. My refrigerator was painfully similar to that of a fraternity house – half a whiskey bottle, a couple of eggs, and some mushy apples. Scholarship applications rested unfinished somewhere on my Mac desktop, probably floating (sinking?) in my Chicago River screensaver. Worst of all, the meet and greet service guy who was supposed to pick up my parents in 12 hours still had not confirmed. But that was okay because all this stress meant that I would be with my family for the winter holidays, Egyptian border control be damned. 

It’s daunting to wake up knowing that you have all this stuff you must get done. Suddenly the world outside our bed just seems incredibly frightening. Nonetheless I dragged myself up and out the door to give my life and apartment a parent-friendly makeover. I started by waiting an hour for the Syrian pastry shop in Tahrir to open. Take note – almost nothing is open in Cairo before noon on Fridays. But the barista at the chain cafe across the street put a cute animal face in my cappuccino foam as I waited and apparently, that’s all it takes to brighten my day.

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I forgot to take a picture, but it looked as adorable as this one.

With a delicious assortment of honey drenched sweets in hand, I headed down to the jewellery stores in Maadi to pick out delicate silver bracelets for my mother, and to eat hearty Chinese dumplings with my Egyptian friend who made sure the meet and assist guy confirmed.

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Let it be known that the Chinese food in Cairo tastes better than most Chinese food in America.

By early evening I was back in my apartment and everything had turned out fine – I got the piss smell out of my apartment by thoroughly washing the litter box and throwing open all the windows. I even had time to whip up a quick dinner.

After a hasty hour of cleaning bathroom sinks and sweeping up mounds of cat hair, it was 8pm and I was in an uber on the way to Cairo International Airport. An hour ride later, and a half-hour of waiting outside later (for security reasons), I was in the arms of my mother and father. Just like that, after a six month absence, I was smelling my mom’s hair and kissing my dad’s cheek in the middle of the parking lot. It’s so weird.

We spent the last two hours of Christmas at my apartment unwrapping gifts and playing with the cat around my coffee table, spread with Syrian desserts and instant ramen. My dad had a cough for the past week and apparently all he ever felt like eating was instant ramen. As I watched my mom nibble at the kunafa, her shoulder hunched in that familiar slump- her mouth making circular motions as the chewed, I couldn’t stop thinking – one day, I will never sit across from my mom and watch her eat. Because one day she will die. Then I became obsessed with memorising the exact detail of how her face wrinkled and the color of her eyes and the movements of her hand as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

One day you feel infinite and then one day, you don’t. Over the past few months, I was so busy being annoyed at my parents and avoiding them that I overlooked their mortality. They’re getting older and it’s showing. Now everything seems like there’s a time limit, and I am fixated at counting the grains of sand I have left in the hourglass. Yes I know that that’s a rather morbid thought to end on, especially for a Christmas post, but it’s better to be aware of this now than to regret it when it’s too late. 

I am not a foodie but I eat well

I am not the person to whip out my DSLR camera to snap food before consuming it. I am also not the person to seek out restaurants known for their hip, new-fangled way of preparing grilled cheese or tiramisu. But I love eating well and eating diverse. Cairo is an amazing city for trying cuisines from all over the world. My favorite restaurant in Cairo (and one I already frequented four times) is Mori Sushi, and I am constantly getting recommendations for Thai places, Indian restaurants, Yemeni joints, and Syrian bakeries.

So enjoy this collection of my screenshotted snapchats, poor quality photos sent over Facebook chat, and my trademark unimpressed selfie face (but with food). I think this presents a more accurate view of my Cairo life anyway. Hover and click for captions.

Favorite Food Places in Cairo —

The Post-Graduate Reading List

Many of my friends who have just graduated college are getting back into free reading. A few even joined book clubs. As a consequence, I’ve been asked by a lot of people for book recommendations. This makes me feel like a fraud – I actually don’t read as many books as my friends think I do. I’m much more an essay/short story/Aeon/New York Times person. Out of the recommendation list below, there’s only two full length novels – the rest are collections of short stories or a novella. I blame my impatience and/or inability to sift through long-winded allegory for meaning.

Anyway, the following are my favorite books that I’ve read after college graduation, listed in the order in which I read them.

Books and Novels

1. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, by Milan Kundera

Honestly, The Unbearable Lightness of Being was much better. But to uphold the integrity of this post graduate reading list, I had to leave that Kundera novel off and replace it with this one instead. This book is a classic Kundera – set in communist-era Prague, with a bunch of cheating husbands and wives and spies scattered around. For those new to Kundera, he writes like a philosopher whose primary concern is to explain a concept. His focus is not in realistic character development or tantalizing plots. He’s perfect for those who dabble in existential crisis.

Buzzwords – orgy, horoscope, ostriches

2. Kitchen, by Banana Yoshimoto
kitchen

This is a very simple story about a girl and a boy and a mom persevering through life despite hardships. However, the context in which I read this book gave it incredible meaning to my life. I borrowed it from Angela to read during the five-hour ordeal that is college Commencement, and then I finished it on the plane to Beijing just two days later.  It’s one of those stories that soak up and illuminate the environment in which you read it. I bet if I reread it in less terrifying, less daunting circumstances, I would experience a different interpretation and mood.

Buzzwords – pineapple, katsudon, taxis

3. On Beauty, by Zadie Smith
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Zadie Smith is non-stop wit and satire in this novel. At its heart, this is a story about family relationships, but a mixed “modern” family with transatlantic roots, from England to New England. It does a wonderful job of depicting the diversity of experiences within black communities.  I especially recommend it to my college friends because it paints such a vivid picture of the pretentiousness and hypocrisy in elite higher education. Certain one-liners had me snickering out loud.

Buzzwords – slam poetry, aesthetics, Haiti

4. Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures, by Vincent Lambloodletting-and-miraculous-cures

I recommend this collection for those who want more Asian characters in fiction but don’t want the entire plot to center around the struggles of being Asian and born in a non-Asian country. (God I wish this book took place in America so then I could have written Asian-American instead of writing that convoluted sentence, but it’s important to acknowledge the difference between the Asian-Canadian and Asian-American experience).

Buzzwords – premeds, purple birds, Canada

5. Graduates in Wonderland, by Jessica Pan and Rachel Kapelke-DaleGraduates_FINAL-cover

Coming clean here: I am still reading this. But I knew from page one that I had found the voice(s) of my generation. In this non-fiction memoir, two best friends keep in touch through detailed, charming emails about their new post-grad lives in Beijing, New York, Paris, and more. Of course, terrible dates and awful jobs are analyzed in detail. Quite a few of my friends have scattered across the world in search of adventure and work, and I know we all get pangs of loneliness from all the unfamiliar. Reading this is like reading emails from your best friend and being home again.

Buzzwords – Beijing bikini, beard brother, grad school

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I know, I know. Given that it’s been over four months since graduation, my book list is rather paltry. But since I’ve been abroad for that entire time, getting my hands on a physical copy of a good English-language book (I refuse to join the Kindle revolution) has proven difficult. The selection has been limited to discarded books from faculty and hostels. I made up for it by reading a lot of online short stories and essays sourced from my friends (many thanks to @thenarrowroad). I would just load them on my laptop for times when I had no wifi, which was way too often. Sometimes, I read an idea that actually changes my life. This happens more with short stories and essays than it does for full-length novels.  I think it’s because essays are more direct and to-the-point.  In times of distress, certain lines from an essay would pop into my head and I would repeat it like a mantra to calm down.  I love essays – they can save you. The best part about essays is that they can be easily shared with people for free over the internet.

The following pieces all introduced a new perspective to my life – my routines, purpose, relationships, etc.  Or I just found them to be fantastic writing that made me really feel something. I hope they do for you as well.

Short Stories

Essays

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And of course I’ve been a total basic bitch and reading quotes off of tumblr. But whatever. Words are words. Here’s the most recent:

“Sometimes we must undergo hardships, breakups, and narcissistic wounds, which shatter the flattering image that we had of ourselves, in order to discover two truths: that we are not who we thought we were; and that the loss of a cherished pleasure is not necessarily the loss of true happiness and well-being.” – Jean-Yves Leloup

Finally,  great books and stories spark unforgettable conversations with friends and loved ones in real life. So please let me know if you have read anything amazing recently. I would love to expand my reading list. Or if you also read any of the stuff listed above, in which case I want to pick your brain for your reaction and thoughts.

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#goals.