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Vietnam has changed a lot since I lived here, and even since my last visit in 2017 (same same but different). My first store that I ventured into had a full display of sex toys - something that was underground, recycled by expats as gifts to local girlfriends and confiscated at customs in the past (elvis has left the building). Yet, although accessible before, like Thailand (that's a-mores!), porn sites are now blocked.

While District 2 is full of Western influences in its restaurants and bars, menus have been customized to local preferences, like unpalatable and al fresco to go, While two of the top three selling pizzas of Al Fresco's Group are typical pizzas in Western countries, the other one (New Oceana) is specific to local tastes, comprising of bacon, tuna, onions and cheese while covered in Thousand Island dressing, with your usual ketchup and pepper packets as extras that Southern Vietnamese put on top of their pizzas (al fresco to go).

Even Pizza Hut introduced the Worm Pizza on April 1 of this year, resulting in many wondering if it was an April Fool's joke. But as noted by Saigoneer, it was launched to line up with Earth Day and one of the company's mission of sustainable sources of food, given the high protein content of silkworms.

Despite the general lactose-intolerance of its people (got milk?), there is now an abundance of affordable milk options from local to foreign sources, including Meiji and oat milk. I was surprised to find the only 'gluten-free only' restaurant in the country, considering the significance of coeliac disease in the US. While I knew that pasta in Italy (and other countries) tend to not contain gluten because of the lack of pesticides in locally sourced wheat, I had not realized that soy sauce contained gluten until I recently dated someone (synchronicity (part 2)) who sometimes had belly aches from Asian food. However, because most of the carbs in the Vietnamese diet is rice based, over 95% of the diet is gluten-free, including the locally sourced soy sauce. Much of the diet is also fresh, unprocessed and organic.

As locals start modifying their diet to incorporate those from other countries, they may find that the Southeast Asians may also have an intolerance to gluten. My 23andMe (full circle (part 3)) profile notes that I am likely to have alcohol flush (moments that matter (part 6)) and lactose intolerance, but coeliac disease is not something that is noted in my dashboard, as of yet, but then again, when I initially received my results, it lumped me in as Southeast Asian, a very broad stroke, and has over the years, refined it to Vietnamese, including specific regions, as more data is collected.

While Silvi Coffee Roasters also specializes in quality coffee, it boasts the country's only gluten-free menu focused on quality ingredients, and provides gluten-free products to other local restaurants and hotels. In my experience, not all gluten-free products and restaurants are created equal, and much like vegan options, I struggle to rehaul my diet because of the flavors and quality. However, I enjoyed the savory and sweet flavors and dishes that I experienced in this off-the-beaten-track gem. Yet in the modern day conundrum of business owners, the 'hidden' treasure for those suffering from coeliac disease would unfortunately get lost in the algorithms or meta tags of the savvy internet travelers. Hopefully, this helps shift the algorithm for them.

* * * * *

Update June 13, 2023:

It would seem from the knowledgable locals (e.g., my prior staff) that the country has only blocked international porn sites, and not the ones that are more regional. Rather than ask my old crew, I did a quick search and someone who seems to have a fetish for Vietnamese women, have already captured this (The 5 best Vietnamese porn sites) on My Sexpedition, filed under 'How and Where to Find Sex in Vietnam' and 'How and Where to Find Sex on the Internet'. He does list the international one that seems to be blocked now as number 4, but perhaps it worked in January 2023 and has fallen prey to the censor police.

extra-terrestrial

Although my recollection of my first plane ride was our band trip to NYC for the Macy's Parade my senior year (stamp collection), the reality is that the first plane was the one that took us from Asia to a refugee camp in the US. Throughout my childhood, we rarely took family vacations but when we did, it was usually a road trip to visit relatives in California. Sometimes, it seemed as if we packed more food and beverages for the multi-day trips than clothing. 

Perhaps from an innate fear of authorities, stemming from years in a communist country, being stopped at the state line caused some consternation between my parents. Unaware of the laws, they were confused when the officials at the border checkpoint had us turn over all produce, only to watch them dump them in the trash. Exposure to farms and/or transportation of meat or produce are common questions on all immigration forms worldwide. 

After getting approved for Global Entry, my first overseas trip was my friends' wedding in Spain many years ago. Excited to bring back a taste of the delicacy of jamon (cured ham), we went to a number of local spots to find properly packaged, quality jamon. Thinking my luck had turned, I was pulled for customs inspection, only to find out afterwards that the system automatically flags people based on travel locals (such as France, Germany, Italy or Spain for any cured meats) and profiles (e.g., new Global Entry individuals) to inspect. The official, with my name and picture in hand, was intentionally looking for me. Although the fine is up to $10k, the inspector luckily let me off with a warning after throwing away my expensive 'souvenir', most likely the initiation rite for many new members.

Like California, Hawai'i has strict regulations in order to manage insect infestations and disease outbreak that would be detrimental to the natural flora or fauna that would not have the natural defenses to protect itself from such species. Hawai'i, with its isolation in the Pacific Ocean, has uniquely adapted endemic species that would be highly sensitive to exposure to and/or competition from invasive species. Endemism is almost ten times richer on islands than on mainland. Rats, fire ants, mosquitoes, coqui frogs and asiatic rhinoceros beetle, to name a few, did not exist on the islands until the advent of foreigners. Even intentional introduction of foreign species had unintended consequences that have wreaked havoc upon the natural habitat. 

Mongooses were brought in to control the rat population in sugar cane fields; however, they are active during the day while rats are nocturnal creatures. Given their opportunistic predatory behavior, rather than control the rat population, it resulted in a reduction of snails, palms and nesting birds, which feed on rats, thereby increasing the rat population. In the 1800s, strawberry guava was brought in as an edible fruit but now threatens endemic flora and fauna because of its shade-casting thickets and dense mats of surface feeder roots.

Hawai'i also has strict guidelines and quarantine restrictions for pets, including service animals, which makes it a challenge for the spontaneous travelers. While the Big Island is the largest of the Hawaiian islands, its population is only a quarter of that of Oahu, the location of the capital. It is known for its agricultural and vast micro-climates, containing 10 of the 14 Köppen climate subzones, practically all but the ones in the Cool Snow Forest climate.

In addition to the active volcanos on the island (juxtaposition), soil transport is also an issue between the micro-climates of the Big Island, with signs warning visitors about bringing unwanted species from footwear or pets. Locals are mindful about acquiring plants from nearby resources rather than other parts of the island for fear of introducing unwanted pests onto their lands. Living on the mainland, even as a resident of the Bay Area, I was unaware of the magnitude of the dangers and long-term effects to the economy and ecology, amounting to over $120 billion to control and combat the impacts in the U.S. alone.

rub-a-dub-dub

I would have never thought that my journey in life would have led me to Black Rock City. The couple of burners I had met over the years seemed to exist in another dimension from my life in corporate America. Camping in a remote desert with only the amenities that you bring in and out, leaving no trace, sounded like a miserable experience.

Yet magic can happen in the strangest places, and we have opportunities to learn more about ourselves when pushed into uncomfortableness. It was a year-long manifestation that prepared me with smaller festivals camping in the desert and navigating other burners in the poly communities. My journey led me to the playa...and the playa was waiting to enfold me, befitting its theme for the year of Metamorphoses.

Some of the lessons and experiences seem to sacred to share but as I've learned in full circle (part 6), birthdays are much better shared. Unbeknownst to me, my partner had planned out the day of festivities, which on the playa is a feat in itself since anything and everything unplanned can happen.

Slushies - What can be more refreshing in the desert than slushies for breakfast? Of course, as I was getting too comfortable from the respite, lounging in a chaise in the desert, I was rushed off to the next adventure, despite my feeble protests.

Nuclear Dandelion - Relaxation I asked for? Relaxation I got...at an oasis spa in the middle of the playa. A cold face mask seems a mundane activity at home but in the middle of nowhere, it was a luxury that my skin drank in. The lessons of gratitude became a recurring theme.

Glamour Shoot - With a hydrated face, despite the layers of dust on my body, I was whisked away to a glamour shot at Tickled Mink where we get to showcase our 'burner straight from Mad Max' costumery.

Cup of Joe - Naturally, in celebration of my background...well perhaps more coincidental than not, we made a pitstop to cool down with Vietnamese iced coffee and Thai iced tea.

Birthday Goodies - Of course for my sweet tooth, we stopped by the Black Rock Bakery VICE - Vietnamese iced coffee.

Traveling the playa takes a lot of patience, and traversing to the other side is like traveling to the other side of the world. No ubers, just our feet and our trusty decked out bicycles. Of course, it wasn't our first attempt but ended up being a moment of synchronicity that we encountered a moment of kindness to be ushered in as the last group, not having to navigate any long lines...

Bubble Bath Orgy - The Foam Dome (open secret of course, sponsored by Dr. Bronners) was and experience that cannot be explained. Bodies in its natural glory, undulating to tunes DJ'ed by the best in the festi scene. How best to celebrate a birthday than in my very own birthday suit. I probably wasn't the first, nor will I be the last, but it was fun being a child and having a golden shower moment, as my little secret.

Birthday Treat - Black Rock Bakery was like a siren to my sweet tooth. I got special treats and a surprise birthday song from strangers that were family.

    

 

Bon Apetit - Spoonful of Friends is Black Rock City's attempt at fine dining, hosting 50 people for a taste of French cuisine. Reservations are hard to come by like Michelin restaurants and are oftentimes made in advance of the Burn. We may have been the only few Americans among a sea of international dialects. The food seemed like a minor player in the beautiful connections being made.

Lost in the Deep Abyss of the Dust - Stretching with clouds of dust to No-Man's Land, we ended the night not letting the night end. Chasing Sabo and parties at Camp Q, exploring art installations, taking a moment at the Temple (chimera) to respect experiences of the past that shape us, and releasing any inhibitions to the guide of plant medicine, we lost all sense of time in the magic of the moment.

It may not be my last Burn, but I will never have another first Burn. A day of synchronicities, a day of abundance, a day of loving and kindness ... a dream I never dreamt. I am ME. FREEDOM!

cupid's arrow

When my house did not sell in 2018, I took it as a sign that my journey was not complete in San Francisco. While I had never felt like San Francisco nor my house felt like home (living love), I soon realized that my house was not selling at the price that I had wanted because I did not put the energy nor love into valuing it for the home that it could provide for me or for others, which served as the impetus for me to open it up to acts of love and creativity, such as sound healing and a frog's kiss.

While I saw that some new friends were looking for a venue for their wedding given the typical San Francisco weather, I had initially thought of offering my house but figured it was both too small and that I was a bit of an 'outsider' to act on my intuition. When the bride-to-be contacted me, it was a bit of a no-brainer althoughI had no idea what I was committing too, especially after it occurred to me that the guest list was significantly larger than what the house could comfortably hold.

While they have met a few times over the year, their love blossomed on New Year's and has been magical moments for a wizard and his goddess. While I found myself stressing over wanting to make sure that the wedding was a memorable experience for the bride and groom, my partner reminded me that providing the venue was the only gift the couple needed from me. Their friends rallied in order to provide homemade vegan cheesecake, the Temple of Fluff, license to officiate the wedding, and all the love and light to make the moment one to remember in a lifetime. I am blessed to have their love infused into the bones of an old Victorian that has the vibrations of the sound healing of Carlos Santana.

sweet as sugar

The miracle berry (synsepalum dulcificum) grows in Africa and contains a glycoprotein molecule called miraculin, which binds to the taste buds, resulting in sour things to taste sweet. Ironically, the berry is low in sugar content. For the winter solstice, it seemed fitting to throw a 'flavor tripping' party for a friend's birthday party, introducing the miracle berry to discerning taste buds.

My first experience with psychedelics (11:11 (part 11)) was a growth experience for me. Although the night was meant to be a 'flavor-tripping' shindig, I found myself having my own 'miracle tripping' with highs of some of the most stimulating visuals of sacred geometry and vivid colors to lows of hibernating in a fetal position. It was a long night, unfolding myself from the womb to realizations of my experiences mirroring my internal dilemma. What was initially my frustration with my inability to help others who do not want to help themselves was a reflection of my frustration with my inability to help my Self.

That night, it occurred to me that every experience and person that I manifest in my life is a mirror to my soul. It was a difficult lesson to grasp, even more so to put into practice in every moment. Yet when two new friends came in to check in on me, I was so touched by their grace, thoughtfulness and kindness, knowing that I had manifested them to help unfold me petal by petal to bloom in the security and confidence I needed to get me out of my shell.

I missed the entire flavor-tripping portion of the night but as dawn creeped upon me, an experience that started sour began to taste a lot sweeter as my plant medicine wore off, leaving me with the dew of the lesson unfolding before me.

full circle (part 9)

"You are one of the most agreeable Lovers of this type, always ready to compromise and anxious to please; but this does not make you the easiest to love. The fact is, you are more apt than any Mars in Aquarius Lover to shut out those you love from your emotional life. Your self-sufficiency means that even people who want to be close to you find themselves loving you from afar. You are a warm, witty, and exceptionally sexy Lover, but you can’t expect people to truly care about you if they can’t really know you."

~ Good Golly, Mars in Aquarius, Venus in Virgo 

I first read that last year, and whether one believes in astrology as an alternative science or not, it resonated with me. I focused on the positive aspects that allow me to intimately connect and find pleasure with a partner without the usual emotional attachment (face of the girl (part 1)) that many women require.

As a first born (family ties) from a first-generation immigrant family, I have always had to be self-sufficient (full circle (part 8)), whether I had wanted to or not. In some ways, Italy seemed progressive such as creativity in their relationship paradigms and in other ways, traditional. One discussion I got into was with a woman who was professing her liberalness yet complaining about how men have been emasculated. It was not until her cousin explained to me that she had made it her mission to let the entire family know that her husband has not had sex with her for over 11 years that it occurred to me the irony in her emasculating her husband rather than working through their issues as a couple, rather than trying to practically bully him by embarrassing him in front of others.

Throughout my time in Italy, I often got into conversations regarding relationships and gender roles. In the same breath, the men would grumble about Italian women wanting men to take care of them and yet want to be in charge. I am pretty sure that is not just limited to Italy. Many confuse the concept of feminism, which is the right to be equal among the sexes. It does not equate to being equal in all things. For example, generally, men have been noted as having better spatial cognition. That does not mean a woman is incapable of packing luggage in a car trunk.

During a fun debate on the topic, it was noted that a man's ego and masculinity drives him to want to protect a woman. As noted in beach angel, while I can take care of myself, I would love to be protected. But as we were talking, it occurred to me that I never really allowed someone to do so. My friend remarked earlier that day on how a close family friend always opened the door for her. Of course, jokingly, I commented that he did not open the door for me. Rightly so, he retorted that I hopped in the car so fast that I never gave him the opportunity to do so.

A few days earlier as we were having lunch, I arranged to pay the bill mid-meal. I had learned over the weeks that in Italy, the early bird gets the worm. Yet it is very common for the men to cover the bill so I was rejected by both the waitress and owner, as my male friend is a regular patron and it is usually assumed that he would cover it. Since he is American though, it only took a few whispers for him to get that overridden. However, my other friend's Italian husband would have none of it. If the American man was not going to pay or pay a portion, he would pay as he views it as offensive if a woman pays for him. In the end, we ended up splitting the bill, with him paying for me and his wife and me paying for the American man and his female friend.

Later that night, as I had to listen to the gripes of the American man penny-pinching on what he had to cover, which was half of the drinks bill at the last bar, splitting amongst the men, rather than everyone splitting the bill, I realized how chivalry seems to have gotten lost, especially as his lunch was technically covered by me. My friend had to explain to me how not only her husband but also his family and friends feel the same way in regards to women paying. As I parted ways with the American man and for the rest of the trip, nobody blinked as the men fought over who would pick up the tab.

I have gone Dutch for as long as I can remember, partly because of equality with all of us having careers and partly because men cannot expect any favors later in exchange for drinks or food (reclaiming the cunt (part 3)). However, this has also been taken to the extreme as I have noticed lately that some men will intentionally go to a bar early to order and pay for his drink so that there is no confusion on who is covering his date's bill. I personally prefer to take turns treating each other, just like taking turns asking each other out. Either way, I realized that following my friend's instructions not to insult the men by offering to pay became a bit more challenging than it should have. 

As the family was pimping me out, I found myself hesitating, and rationalizing my behavior as not wanting to hurt a gentleman. My friend kept reminding me that they are adults and are responsible for themselves. I found that it was a similar apprehension as when I met a man from YUMmy and subsequently, his friend, prior to my trip to Italy. 

The respect they had for women and each other, their communication styles, their honesty and transparency with each other and me...it is difficult to explain why it gave me pause. Prior and during meeting, there were communications on intentions and check-ins to ensure people were aware of the other's objectives/plans, even if fluid. No games, just transparency and living in truths and authenticity. As my hair stylist reminded me while I relayed this to her, this was exactly what I have been searching for in the last few years. While I have always noted that I have met great men in my life (pig in mud (part 4)), there was something very unnerving about how these men disarmed me.

As with protection and simple gestures such as picking up a tab and opening doors, while subtle, there is a significant difference in expecting them and allowing someone the pleasure of doing them. As with my lesson on communication of intentions, it takes away any anxiety and/or assumptions when it is clear what the 'rules of engagement' or simple pleasures that make someone tick are. Like 'need' and 'want', it is 'same same but different'. It always troubled me when hearing people comment that I am difficult to get to know as I would like to think I am an open book about anything and everything but perhaps this steadfast 'independence' is the barrier they see. Between 11:11 (part 10) and these moments, 'letting go' and 'letting others in' also means 'allowing'.

My friend's Italian husband also loves to cook. He and his mother usually are a hoot to watch in the kitchen as she tries to supervise him while he blatantly tunes her out. As the family often utters, they gain weight when he is in town. My friend has learned to cook in order for them to have quality time in the kitchen together. She fries cutlets better than him while he loves to grill and makes a mean bowl of pasta.

In naturally trying to be self-sufficient and in the quest for equality, I missed the most obvious lesson of feminism. It is about unmasking the expected gender roles and embracing the ability to do what each person enjoys, even if that happens to be within the 'traditional gender expectations'. It does not make me any less of a woman than it makes him more of a man. Like being sexually liberated, even in the choice of being a sub, the freedom is the choice (and consent) to do so without being bound by the expectations of being one. By the last day, I was feeling less uneasy about men being chivalrous that I almost forgot to express appreciation to them for such gestures. Another lesson I cannot neglect. Similar to my surprise in identifying my love languages, what I thought I did not need turns out to be exactly want my soul desires.

spooning

Between the appetizers and main course, the waiter in a restaurant in Castelfranco reset our place settings. He naturally provided me with a spoon to go with my pasta dish. However, while others also order pasta, he only laid forks next to their plates. This begs the question: to spoon or not to spoon one's pasta?

As it turns out, he singled me out as the American, who must have learned to eat pasta with a fork and spoon. I personally never used a spoon to eat pasta, and had mistakenly viewed myself as uncouth for doing so. When I was younger, I slurped, and as I got older, I just bit off the hanging parts that did not easily twirl around my fork.

In most of Italy though, it is considered low class to eat pasta with a spoon, and is only acceptable for children. Rarely would an Italian ask for a spoon, especially at a fine dining establishment. Another un-Italian activity is drowning one's meal with parmesan cheese. Similar to dashing a lot of salt on one's dish without tasting it first, a lot of cheese takes away the true flavor of the dish.

As I spent the last leg of my Italian journey with my friend's Italian in-laws, it also occurred to me that they eat their pasta before their salad, rather than the other way around as is the case in the US. Antipasti is usually served first with dishes like prosciutto and melon while the family gathers around the kitchen as the chef and sous-chefs are preparing the primi (first) and secondi (second) dishes. A small bowl of pasta is usually served as the first course with salad and/or meat dishes as the second.

On the last day before my flight, the family made chicken cutlets for the second dish for lunch. I soon learned that chicken (and veal) parmigiana is not Italian. While eggplant parmigiana exists, the meat variety is purely an American fabrication. Other dishes that are not authentic Italian are pepperoni pizza and spaghetti & meatballs, which are usually served separately. In fact, 'peperoni' means peppers. The only salad dressing available in Italy is olive oil and vinegar.

There must be some secret formula to how the Italians dine, as I felt that with all the pasta, risotto, pizza and cheese, I developed a 'pasta pancha'; yet, it would seem as if the weight distributed itself differently as my weight seemed to be the same before and after all the gastro culinary delights of Italy.

culo up

Since a spontaneous yet fateful motorcycle tour around Bangkok, I have always loved motorcycles. The irony though is although it is on my bucket list to own one, I have not quite learned how to ride one, which would require quite a bit of customization given my size.

In some countries, it is fairly common to own a scooter, motorbike or motorcycle, yet I have found that there is some common personality trait that would draw someone to owning certain types of motorcycles, and perhaps that is the trait that appeals to my adventurous side (face of the girl (part 1)).

So when offered a trip to Caorle to see the Adriatic Sea on the last weekend of summer on motorcycles to avoid the traffic, given the crowds, I was more than game. My motorcycle host though was coming from his family's country estate in the mountains, and while he owned a few motorcycles, his options were limited to what he had stored at the country house.

My friend dubs it the 'culo (ass) up' bike. It is designed as a motorcycle for racing, and not very practical for passengers although it has an option to attach a passenger seat. Given its design, the passenger is sitting higher up than the rider, which results in a very uncomfortable position that probably works for shorter rather than longer rides. With the ride being approximately 40 minutes each way, my body was definitely sore for days. Luckily, my companions offered to provide massages, including one whom I found out had studied to be a professional masseuse in his career explorations.

Caorle, known as Little Venice, is a beautiful little beach town with colorful buildings and history. The Sanctuary of the Madonna dell'angelo had its own claim to a miracle in 1727 when the entire town was flooded while the church on the sea was left unscathed. It even has its very own leaning tower, one of the few circular bell towers in Italy.

The Adriatic Sea is shallow in general, with average depth of 173 meters. However, most of the northern part of the sea is less than 100 meters, which was amazing to see and great for families with small children. It was as if everyone is walking on water for as far as the eyes could see. With shallow water comes warm water temperatures even for Northern Italy.

The fellows' idea to take motorcycles rather than a car was a great idea given the immense traffic at the end of the evening as families were taking advantage of the last days of summer. While it was great to be able to swerve in and out of traffic between the cars on the way home, I did miss the ability to hit high speeds on a racing motorcycle. My host though was kind enough to oblige when he could with a few pop-a-wheelies and slowing to a crawl in order to hit speeds of 160km/hr, even if for a short stint. Though sore and tired, we ended the day with great laughs over pizza roulette.

self service

Up in the hills of Valdobbiadene is an old stone house, nestled in the middle of a vineyard, that serves as an osteria (place that serves wine and simple food). However, other than basics like ingredients and tools for making your own coffee and simple outdoor furniture, there is no person managing or working at the osteria.

Parking at Osteria senz'Oste is ad hoc between the vines. My friend (crushing grapes), who has made annual excursions to Valdobbia-dene for harvesting took us there simply for the amazing views. However, he has always missed the signs leading to the prosecco vending machines. While he knew they existed, as one is located in the vineyards near the parking area, which doubles as parking for a wine tasting room, not affiliated with the osteria, he never loitered long enough to realize that people brought and/or bought items for a beautiful day in the sun and vineyards for a long and lazy aperitivo.

Following the signs takes one through paths up the hill, meandering through the vineyards until one gets to the top of the hill where there are larger vending machines to purchase bottles of different types of prosecco. Another vending machine provides water bottles and simple food that usually is provided with aperitivo. Plastic cups hang from the sides of the vending machines.

While there are picnic tables and benches at the top of the hill near the vending machines, the more intimate setting is below next to the vineyards at the side of the hill with pergolas covered with trailing vines and overhanging bunches of grapes.

We ended up spending an entire afternoon, sharing over seven bottles of prosecco between five people enjoying the company and beautiful atmosphere. We made a number of new friends with many groups sharing snacks, desserts and other bottles of wine, some of which were in unmarked bottles brought from home (moonshine). With overlapping languages with not all speaking any particular language, it became easier to understand each other being under the influence.

After harvesting that day from her family's vineyards, a woman who manages the inventory in the vending machines stopped by to check the stock, and coordinate with my friend on harvesting with her family the rest of the week. In her curiosity on how such a hodgepodge of different people had congregated together, she soon discovered that we represented U.S. (New York, Connecticut, Texas, and California), Vietnam, Japan, France, Switzerland and Italy (Meolo and Venice), with many just meeting each other that day. While some had left a bit earlier, she felt it was worthy of a Facebook post on the osteria's page. These moments with locals and new friends are some of the most amazing  and cherished memories from my travels.

* * * * *

In the land of love, vending machines with various prophylactic sheaths are visible sporadically near town centers. They are even installed in schools in Rome. Safe sex is available 24/7 and most likely attributes to one of the lowest birth rates in Europe. The machines offer many options for every fancy.

Perhaps I am used to the American men who make any excuse to not use protection as it impacts their sensitivity, it was great that Italian men seemed always prepared, even if it was to ask friends for any spares. Rather than take the additional risk of potential breakage with ultra-thins on the market today, I also noticed that there was a tendency to use the thicker latex options.

In some cases, perhaps it was to prolong the experience with his partner. For others, it does cause some challenge in climaxing in the usual way, and other methods are used to finish. One man even joked that it is great for protection from any residual feces during anal. As Monty Python croons 'always look on the bright side of life'.

syzygy

I have always believed in magic and miracles (or said a different way, that we are not alone, left with coincidences in life). As I have opened my heart and mind to such possibilities, I have started to notice more of these serendipitous moments in my life as alignment of the sun, stars and moon.

Padova is the second largest college town in  Italy with a number of different universities represented. Since classes do not resume until October, it was mostly populated with local residents. Galileo Galilei taught math here for 18 years. His astronomical observatory was housed at La Specola di Padova. Padova is also where the famous Italian aperol spritz, an aperitif cocktail, originated.

The town center is mostly closed off to autos. Most people travel by bicycles, many are fairly vintage as well since bicycles are subject to the highest thefts in the city so residents have learned to not bother to own the more expensive versions. Although I am used to see bicycles in San Francisco as a mode of transportation to and from work for many of the software engineers, it was adorable to see the locals go bar hopping via bicycles. Many had baskets and the little bells that reminded me of childhood.

From the beginning of booking the trip (with new templates...the party continues) with a one-way ticket as a fulfillment of stamp collection, I made no plans and decided to follow the wind wherever it may blow. There were so many moments throughout my travels in Italy where I felt that this is exactly where I need to be at this moment in time.

In its simplicity, the biggest 'aha' moment for me that left me with a huge grin and a bounce in my step was in taking a picture of a typical Italian casa in a cute courtyard in Padova. As I put the camera up to my face to snap the photo, I noticed a couple and a bicyclist approaching the left of the screen. They slowed down as they saw me with the camera, and without any cues, the bicyclist circled the courtyard and left the way he came, as if that was always his intent to come and circle the courtyard, while the couple waited for his departure before they leaned in for a romantic kiss and loving embrace. Both represented quintessential Italy. For me, they were where they needed to be at the exact moment in time.

tear down the walls

With Trump looking to build walls to exclude foreigners under the guise of protecting American jobs from undocumented workers, Italy has been evolving in the last few years to improve labor laws to protect low-skilled laborers and immigrants and create more transparency in doing so.

Harvesting, especially in the wine industry, does not require tremendous skill. Clippers and buckets are really the necessities. A few years ago, the local farmers' union created an initiative called 'Harvest of Solidarity' to promote matching the supply and demand of local seasonal laborers, mostly young although not limited to such and unemployed. It has also changed the local perception of this type of work as well, which is an interesting outcome given the irony of some Americans arguing that immigrants are stealing jobs that the Americans did not want.

During harvest, landowners are required to document their workers, including family members and neighbors (crushing grapes). This is to create transparency as well as protect everyone from cheap laborers (€1.5 an hour) working 12-15 hours per day. Periodically, planes fly by to snap pictures, counting the laborers on each vineyard to compare to the document provided by the landowners. Fines are up to €3k per infraction, enough to provide a deterrent in the local market.

crushing grapes

Well almost.

I was never a fanatic for I Love Lucy, but the episode where she and her best friend stomped on grapes to make wine seems to have stuck with me as one of those cool experiences. I finally decided to join my friend who owns a prosecco label to harvest season in Valdobbiadene, the finest prosecco region in Italy.

While they no longer crush grapes by stomping on them, they also generally harvest with machines. However, the beauty of Valdobbiadene is that the vineyards are on the mountain side, too steep for machinery. Every harvest is entirely done by hand. In many cases, the vineyards are family owned, and as each section of land is so diverse in its topography (e.g., soil, limestone, rainfall, sunlight), harvest even within the same vineyard is usually done when an agronomist or viticulturist determines  that various vines have the appropriate sugar content, so are done in batches.

My first experiencing harvesting with the top agronomist in Valdobbiadene and his family was definitely an unforgettable experience. The forecast called for rain, which would have made the steep hills challenging as well as the battle to beat the rain, in fears of it diluting the fruit content. With waterproof booties, long socks, and clippers in tow, we were prepared for what nature had in store for us. However, she graced us with a beautiful sunny day with crisp air and the magnificent aroma of grapes and slight fermentation. 

Although his vineyard is less than an acre, this is his passion, and harvest is family time for him, ranging at least three generations. Every vine is passed over at least by two sets of eyes with neighbors helping each other. Lunch was prepared by the matriarchy of the clan, and served on a picnic table nestled in the vineyards with all the fineries of Italian culinary delights of prosciutto, cheese, pasta, olives, peppers, prosecco, torte, and caffé perfecto (coffee with homemade grappa).

While I did not understand everything that was said, I shared in the laughs and family frivolity such as when the parents pointed out the massive hickey that the older son had on his neck, resulting in his face turning beet red. While other vignerons were selling their best harvest in many years to vintners, Giovanni chose to keep his batch to make his own blend of bubbles for personal use.

They did offer the silly American an opportunity to fulfill my dream of crushing grapes by throwing some poorer quality grapes into a bowl so that I could stick a foot on it but the dream was just in living out the day with a beautiful and gracious family rather than some silly stomping of grapes.

moonshine

Wine, of all varieties, and even certain spirits are so cheap in Italy, in many cases about a fourth or a third of the prices in the U.S. Children grow up drinking wine with meals. We often ran into other Americans in grocery stores and delis looking to buy bottles to enjoy at their residences, usually pondering at the aisle whether the prices were indicative of quality.

There seems to be little correlation as many of the local wines are not sold internationally. In fact, the vintners tend to use the best grapes to be used for the prosecco and wine in the local market and the lesser quality grapes for the international market. With all the duties and taxes, a similar bottle would be significantly more pricey in other markets. With the additional charges, their profit is not significant in the other markets yet the companies know that to compete in the local market, they are also competing with the homemade variety as well.

Many Italian homes have made their own alcohol for generations. A family who owns a deli on the Amalfi Coast makes their own red and white wine in bulk in a small storage room under their house on the cliffs, and sell it to locals in large jugs. Families have their own recipes past down the generations in making spirits like limoncello or grappa. They also experiment with various ingredients. One family altered the fermenting process and recipe to also create cough medicine from pine cones, sugar and sunlight. Learning the process is a rite of passage for the children, especially when their product is brought out to be showcased at a family event.

When attending lunches or dinners at an Italian family's home, alcohol is flowing as if it was like water. It came as no surprise when I found myself loving the taste of a particular prosecco at a dinner in Meolo that turned out to come from an unmarked bottle, the usual indicators of something that was homemade rather than store bought.

stone skipping (part 11)

One of my aha's from my time in Vietnam is how I enjoy mentoring others, specifically women or minorities who have the additional challenge of trying to level their playing field and where mentors are easily accessible. This inspired the stone skipping series. Somehow though, without necessarily putting it out to the universe, I have observed an influx of others connecting me with random people that they believe I could somehow share my experiences or insights.

While I did not advertise my departure (silver fox), some have noticed it on LinkedIn. A month ago, a woman whom I had some interaction during one of the women's development programs I facilitated a few years ago, contacted me as she wanted to better understand my career pivot. She was at a crossroads. Her husband and she live separate lives due to work (he in Arizona, she in California). Her leader was grooming her to be his replacement when he retires in 6 years. Yet she was getting bored, and despite her efforts to expand her role, kept running into 'deaf ears'. Morale has caused some significant turnover in her group. All of that intermixed with some personal matters like starting a family.

She reached out to me this week as she was in town. She wanted to let me know that based on our last discussion about my pivot and challenging her to think 'big' and with a 'clean slate' rather than the immediate paths that we 'pigeon hole' ourselves into as what we would be qualified for given our current experience, she had an 'aha' moment while trying to plan a social event. As she was relaying how she got to her decision, her face transformed and by the end, she had this beautiful smile, and glow to her face. While her husband is supportive, it is an entire pivot, and she even retorted that good thing she has her own money to invest any way she wants - the financial independence that allows us to find our happiness.

It was not just a fleeting thought as she had started to research (and contact) suppliers as well as federal and state laws to start her eco-friendly venture. She also noted how liberating it felt to finally know what she wants to do in life. Watching her made me tear up with happiness. I have always admired people who have the courage to find and follow their passions (stone skipping (part 1)). Her quiet excitement as contagious.

Later that evening, I met another friend (surprising inspiration) who is finally seeing her long-time dream of being a New Yorker become reality. It was her last meal in San Francisco so we chose a 10-course chef's tasting menu at Octavia. She's a foodie and it was her 30th Michelin star restaurant. During dinner, she was relaying stories about two coworkers that she felt 'weird' being mentor for women older than her. She kept saying she had to 'channel me' while doing so. I assume it has to do with how to communicate in a way that others would be more receptive, and some of the things I have told her in the past to help her through some of her challenges. Either way, it was great to see her paying it forward and making her own ripples.

storytime

One of my favorite pastimes, especially when traveling (pig in mud (part 3)), is to people watch and make up stories about their lives based on behaviors and/or interactions that I observe. Truth be told, this started a long time ago as an escapism, a coping mechanism for me during my younger days, vacillating between creating stories of joy as a form of hope and of misery as a form of company.

I used to sit at my window in New York City and look down at the "ants" flitting about the sidewalks. From my second floor window at Brittany Dorm, I generally could also overhear conversations. Most of the time, I was left to my imagination. Today, I decided to venture into the sunshine (first time since the lunch in moments that matter (part 5) that ended up wiping me out for much of the last couple of days). After all, I needed to learn to walk again before I ran, and my work wife gently reminded me that perhaps the lack of sugar in my diet contributed to my lethargy.

While standing in line at Boba Guys, my eyes were initially drawn to a couple. Neither individually were striking but as a couple, they were. Both had distinct features but also looked as if they were "mutts" in their own way, with the gentleman having light eyes despite his Middle Eastern look, and the woman seemed of Asian descent but some European features. He was caught up in eating while she seemed distracted. At first, I had thought they looked like a couple that was on their first date.

While they were sitting next to two boys (one with brass hair and the other dark hair), it was not immediately obvious that they were together until a girl with brass hair who was on a nearby couch walked up to the woman before walking back to perhaps two sisters (or potential step-sisters) on the couch. Similar to the boys, they all had very distinct looks of various mix features that were different blends of the couple. Once I realized they were with the couple, I thought it was a date whereby the couple brought their extended family, and the boys were getting to know each other, similar to the girls on the couch. Individually, they did not immediately look like siblings but as a group, the overlaps became more transparent. 

I am so used to children today, like my nieces and nephews, who engross themselves in electronic gadgets to entertain themselves, that it seemed a bit at odds that the children were actually having engaging conversations with each other, while the couple were having their individual moment. Once he finished his meal, he reached out and caressed her hand across the table, lost in their own love language. I was so immersed in the visual before me that I was never quick enough to catch a good photo.

While the sunshine, sugar and walk (although I did have to stop to catch my breath a few times) were good for the healing of my body, the family was a beautiful start to healing my soul.

toastea

Usually when someone quits, he/she is either heading back to school or found another job. Yet when Alice told us two years ago that she was leaving to follow a dream, she was moving to her hometown of Los Angeles to hopefully finally follow through with what she thought was an underserved market of a bubble tea shop in the downtown area.

Her concept was simple yet unique from the numerous franchises popping all over the world of bubble tea, which included toast with your tea. Other than honey and some minor items, everything else is made fresh in the store - no powder mixes. The boba comes from Taiwan, where it originated. With her two business partners and friends, they have experimented with different combination of flavors, both for the drinks and the toasts, including spicy churro toast which is chocolate flavor with a cayenne chili kick and Luna's Elixir which includes strawberries and marshmallows with jasmine tea.

It took her over a year to open though. It turns out that looking for the right space as well as having the looks of a young Asian woman were challenging combinations. Landlords did not give her the time of day although they commented that whoever she hired to do her business plan did a great job. Somehow, their preconceived notions of a young Asian woman did not include the skills to put together her own business plan. So not to be dissuaded, Alice decided to play their game rather than getting upset and bitter. She portrayed herself as a representative of a business owner who was looking for space.

In the end, they finally opened in March 2017 and by this month, they are projected to break even. We made sure we took a pit stop on our last night in Los Angeles tonight to visit her "baby". Despite the natural stresses that come with owning one's own business, I've never seen her happier. The excitement in her voice and body, showing us around and relaying her journey, was a great testament to the benefits of listening to one's inner voice and following one's dream(s).

palatable palette

A part of the planning (pig in mud (part 3)) included reservations at a couple of fine dining establishments (that book months in advance) on our last days in Lima. Coincidentally, due to various activities and late night travel, we did not get a chance to eat a full meal for 24 hours or so, which was about the time that I found out that our first reservation included 17 courses.

Central is established by Virgilio Martinez who creates masterpieces through "vertical ecological monitoring" with ingredients by inhabitants of the Andes region during the pre-Hispanic era, the Amazon, the desert and the coasts. His team travels the countryside looking for and researching items from Patchamama that would be edible with 50% of his approximate 180 ingredients not previously identified. Our dishes today included items like clay, piranhas, various flowers and sea urchins. The escalation mater menu contained ingredients and celebrated the biodiversity of the various elevations of Peru and the Andes. 

While I was game to try everything on the menu, it was with consternation when course 5 had an ingredient that had turned me off from consumption of raw protein, specifically seafood. In the late 90s during a trip to Nha Trang, I got to experience the oceanside experience of picking out the fresh catch that gets prepared for the meal. One of those items was sea urchin where it was opened and prepared right at our table. However, it was so fishy and pungent that it left a "bad taste in my mouth" figuratively and physically. Since then, I had avoided not only sea urchin but any other exotic raw seafood other than basic tuna and salmon.

Despite my trepidation, I faced my fear and the course turned out to be one of my favorites from the pre-fixed menu. Martinez and his team were phenomenal in the art of gastronomy. The only other time I experienced such fantastic blends of flavors and textures were from Yonaka in Las Vegas, which highlights the various flavors of Japan and raw seafood. In addition, the presentation of the courses, the pops of color and wine pairings created an overall elevation of the senses during a 4-hour sitting. It was easy to see why it is ranked number 5 in the world and featured in season 3 of Chef's Table.