The Lives of Others

One of the things that struck my sister when she visited me for the summer many years ago was how small Boston is. Boston is the kind of place where, after a week, you'll start recognizing people in the subway. A woman with a fancy top may catch your eye while you're heading out, and somehow on the way home you'll see her again. While this has happened to me before, it didn't really strike me in anyway. But little things like this may stand out more to the tourist.

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I was a regular at this little Korean eating place in Allston...well, not quite a regular regular, but a once-a-month type of regular. Since it's been quite a few years, at least one of the waitresses recognize me. One of them is chatty and makes an effort to make small talk when she sees me. The other one is quiet, so I never chat with her. Because I tend to visit on the same day, at the same time, whenever I go, I see the same waitresses, and in my mind they belong there.

One day, I decided to eat at the Korean place in Porter Square, just out of the blue. We sat down and the waitress comes over. She is the quiet waitress from the other place I frequent. I feel uncomfortable -- what is she doing here? Is she just a lookalike? Does she recognize me? Is she wondering why I'm not at the other restaurant?

Upon further reflection, I realized that I had an unreasonable view of things. Of course she has a second job. Waitressing doesn't pay that much. Because she is young, I had assumed that she was a student with a part-time job. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she needs that second shift to make ends meet.

A few weeks later when I was in Allston, I took a detour and walked past a row of shops. Through one of the windows, I saw the guy from the falafel place in Harvard Square, except he was no longer just the guy from the falafel place in Harvard Square anymore. He's the middle-aged guy who works at two food places, trying to make ends meet.

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Something else happened to me today. I ran into Harry from the Dudley House sandwich bar (a Harvard dining facility), except I wasn't at Dudley House. I was at a beauty salon in Coolidge Corner, and he was the receptionist. I thought he looked vaguely familiar as I informed him that I was there to do my eyebrows. He thought I looked familiar too, and asked me if we know each other from somewhere.

"Do you work at Harvard?" I asked. He said yes.

"Oh my goodness." I exclaimed. "How did you remember me?" A man was waiting for his wife in the front area, and he witnessed our exchange. I proceeded to explain that I ate at Dudley House for a year when I first started graduate school at Harvard.

"That was seven years ago. He remembered a face out of the thousands of people he has seen since." Harry confirmed that about 300-400 people pass through the dining hall each day.

He explained that he's helping out at his wife's store. Ah. So he's the man mentioned in the Yelp reviews (how I found this place). It felt strange to connect the dots. He said that the store is relatively new, that they opened in June 2011 (less than a year ago). He would have introduced me to his wife, but it was a different lady working today.

I had a fantasy about Harry many years ago. His sandwich bar is the brightest spot in my memory of the Dudley House dining hall. The other dining staff were not impolite, but you never felt the warmth in their service. Harry on the other hand takes his time to serve each student, and piles it up on your sandwich when he does. He is happy to be feeding you.

From what I saw, Harry made sandwiches to order during lunch, and helped out with food prep at other times. In other words, he could probably run an independent sandwich place on his own. While the pay as a dining staff is probably decent, I've always thought he could do better as a small business owner running his own little sandwich place. The loyalty he's earned from the students is loyalty that he can earn as a proud small business owner.

The eyebrow threading went quickly, and relatively painlessly and I liked what the lady did for me. On my way out, Harry asked if I wanted to take a few business cards for friends, and if I could write a review on Yelp. "Not because of me, but for the eyebrow threading." I took a few cards, and mentally decided that I'm not creating a Yelp account to give his wife's business a review. A one-review Yelp account would probably look fishy. Besides, I really wanted to write about Harry.

Assuming his wife is as sweet and conscientious as Harry (which seems likely, judging from the Yelp reviews. Harry is probably in his 50's, so they've been married a long time), I'm sure her business will do well. Me, I'm writing this because my fantasy of Harry being a small business owner is partially fulfilled by his wife opening her little beauty salon, and it makes my day a little brighter.

PS. To readers who know/like Harry, you can support his wife at the Heritage Threading Salon

Another 2 ways of getting rid of change (if you didn't already know)

It's a little specific to Boston but here we go:

1. The MBTA ticket machine.
There are 2 types: the card only machine, and the one that accepts cash as well. If you don't commute often -- meaning you usually add money to your Charlie card -- this might be a good way of getting rid of pocket change. The machine will accept up to 20 coins at a time. For me, it's perfect for emptying my wallet when it starts to weigh on me. I mainly use it for nickels and dimes since my quarters go to laundry.

2. TD North Bank
Now that they are opening branches all over Boston, this has become feasible. If you sign up for an account with them, you can use their Coinstar-like machine. It sits in their lobby, and looks and works like a Coinstar machine, except the money goes into your bank account. And you don't lose a cent.

Let me know if you have other ways of avoiding Coinstar.

Independent Designer's Market

It was back in the summer that I first came across a poster for the Boston Independent Designer's Market. I was really excited and could hardly wait for September to come.

I got interested in fashion and making clothes last year around March, when I first saw Paradise Kiss. It was then I realized that fashion was something to seriously think about. Making clothes is not that easy, and textile production was a part of the First Industrial Revolution that changed everyone's lives. Before that, 90% of a woman's day was knitting socks. But Paradise Kiss was not the reason I started making clothes.

The prelude to Paradise Kiss is a lesser known manga called Gokinjo Mono Ga Tari. It's the story of Miwako's sister and how she became a designer. Mikako got her start in a flea market, and learned from scratch -- like you have to make clothes in S, M and L, not just your own size. The first thing she sold was a Happy Berry bag.

(Borrowed picture of a homemade Happy Berry Bag from some girl called redsky1978.)

Earlier this year, I attended Anime Boston, and I was awed by the little tables of people selling handmade jewelery, hats and scarves etc. Cosplayers are probably a big part of the sewing community these days. Replicating elaborate costumes from anime is no joke. With the weekly Independent Designer Market, I would have a chance to experience the vibrancy every weekend.

Not really. I was probably one of ten people who showed up to the IDM that day. It was housed in the lobby of some school, located in the South End, which really doesn't have much traffic. There were maybe 8 - 10 vendors -- a couple of stands selling designed t-shirts, one offering tailor-made wedding dresses, and some other posh looking thing. I pretended that I walked in by mistake, and left. I was disappointed.

To be disappointed means I had expectations. I was imagining something like the Harvard Square fairs, which attracted a good number of craft people selling handmade jewelery and random clothes (like tie dyes and such). Maybe throw in a fashion student eager to kick start his/her own designer line (something like the lady offering to tailor wedding dresses).

I hope the IDM improves. I really think the location sucks. I guess the price attempts to be reasonable ($100, compared to $300 for a Harvard Square table), but there is no traffic. I'm looking forward to Anime Boston 2011 for my dose of independent anime-inspired craftsters.

thinking about native languages

I recently started a language class for my 5th language (not programing). It's been a while since I learned a new language, and this time I picked a language that is readily accessible: Korean. I sometimes watch Korean dramas, listen to K pop, and I happen to have a conversation partner who kinda knows Korean but not really.

I was reflecting on all the languages I know and realized that I wouldn't know how to teach languages I picked up natively, but would have no problem teaching a language that I learned non-natively. And that got me thinking about what it means to formally learn a native language, and a non-native language. For instance does it make sense to insist on hiring native speakers?

With native languages, I speak them before I know how to read and write them. My vocabulary and grammar were learned before I could understand how I knew them. There are other definitions of native language, but for this example, it is obvious. A non-native language is a language I had to learn formally. Before going to language class, I couldn't express myself in this language. What is worse is that I have to actively search for a place to apply my newfound language ability.

I wonder if it is impossible now to learn a language using native means since I wouldn't even know how to start picking things up. The closest possibility is to learn a language while needing to use it. In many cases, people pick up a language hoping to eventually use it. It all works.

I tried to read up on how babies learn a language (see the article on Deb Roy in Wired). It seems like parents tend to focus on one thing for an extended period of time. It wasn't a helpful article. I'll have to browse around a bit more. Let me know if you have any good references.

From the Department of What Were They Thinking

Windows had a pop-up window thing morning, asking me if I wanted to install some Genuine Windows program. The point of the program? To check whether my software is real, and if it's not the genuine version, it will have periodic reminders for me to do the right thing.

Really? So it happens that my version of Windows is real, so I guess I am not installing that. And if my version of Windows were not real, I'm not installing some nasty pop-up thing either. Whoever thought of this was clearly not really thinking.

The best way out of China

I have been thinking a little more about the immigration routes of the Chinese people, an issue somewhat personally relevant to me since I am a 3rd generation immigrant Chinese. I never thought more about the fact that my great grandmother decided to go to Southeast Asia to join her family. On hindsight, there was a chance that I might have ended up being born in China or in the US. And depending on that decision, we could have suffered more (I don't think we could have suffered less).

So we took the Southeast Asia route, and life was hard, and we were second class to the British, but everyone did okay. Some Chinese people even got rich and set up schools and made lasting donations. (There is a building named after Tan Kah Kee in Berkeley.) Then there was the turbulence of the 1950's and 60's when the British left Southeast Asia. The Chinese were not well regarded by the people of Malaya, and there were racial riots. The Chinese people in Malaysia continue to be held back by racial quotas (affirmative action for the majority, who happen to be economically challenged), and the Chinese people in Indonesia have to worry during the hard times too because they were targeted. The Chinese people in Singapore are doing well, and I have to thank my dad for deciding to move to Singapore while the rest of the family stayed in Malaysia.

Now that I am reading a little more about Asian Americans, I am grateful that my ancestors never took that route. If they had gone to California to build the railway, they probably would have died alone with no possibility of wife, much less child (= no me). With the Chinese exclusion act, they would have contributed to building a nation while never receiving recognition if not for World War II. Finally they took brides. But even today, Asians are viewed with a jaundiced eye.

I have never been to China. I don't feel like I want to go there, despite all that news of economic boom and miracle. My sister tells me that it's all in my head. When I finally step onto Chinese soil, it won't be a proletariat tragedy from the movies. She's probably right.

Management lessons from volleyball

Volleyball is a big thing here in the summer. I somehow got roped in as team captain my first year in lab, and I stayed on for 2 years as captain. Handing over the team to a new captain, I suddenly had a list of things I thought he should do (also known as what I would do). This is my first shot at a team sport, much less being captain, and I have developed a few ideas that I hope to carry with me into my work.

1. Understand the players, and use them.
We were a rag-tag lab team of whoever is willing to play. Of course, the ideal team would be tall and athletic, but not everyone is born that way. I am the very opposite of tall and athletic myself. B is tall, but not athletic, but with simple instructions (angle arms downwards) he was able to block well. W's accuracy improved greatly after we pointed out that playing with both hands results in better control of the ball. And of course, planning the rotation required knowledge of who can work well together, and who needs an extra hand.

2. Play positions
I realize in a real league that people have preferred positions that they stick to. But in a summer league, no one really cares. In fact, insisting on sticking to your usual role confuses everyone.

More importantly, taking over someone's role once would result in that person less likely to try the next time. Before you know it, everyone is waiting for you to do something. Even if they don't always reach perfection, trust that they will do their best, and point out where and how they can do better if they miss.

3. Have fun
There will be the ones who want to win, and the ones who want to win but also want to have fun. Putting down your teammate for missing will dampen team morale. My personal style is to talk during the game when possible. Crack a joke, make everyone laugh and relax. After all, the point of the summer league is really to have fun and to bond.

These probably sound like rules for playing Little League, but it will probably be a good reflection of your team in real life. There will always be someone lacking experience and skills, and we just have to do our best as a team.