Dim Sum--I'll have sum of dim, and sum of dim...

My Dad was in town this weekend and he and Taka took my new roommate and me out for Chinese brunch, otherwise known as the delectable meal "Dim Sum." We went to Jing Fong Restaurant, a place I'm fortunate enough to have two blocks from my apartment. 

Although we arrived at 11 a.m., it was already packed. Brunch in New York is more of an after 12 p.m. thing, so it says a lot that it was crazy that early. When they called our number, we went up the escalator and entered a massive room full of large round tables. They sat us with strangers, as usual. With this place, you can't be too picky. You sit where you fit.

Dim Sum is fun because, much like when Japanese chefs cook your food in front of you, it's not just a meal, it's an experience. Chinese women wheel large carts around the room full of mysterious and delicious things. Dim Sum is primarily small plates of different kinds of dumplings (yum!), and there are other types of Chinese dishes as well. 

Here's how the system works: You have a card. If one of these women walks by you with something that looks tasty, you gesture for it (because, inevitably, you do not speak the same language). She gives you the food and writes something down on your card and then you get to enjoy your plate. But wait--there's something else that looks good! Get that. Oh, and what's that? Yeah, that too, give us that.


And that.


It's sort of like tapas on steroids. And better, because you get to see what you're getting before you order it. Also, you can order Dim Sum all day, have a million items on your card, and when you go to check out find that your bill is under fifteen dollars. Easily.


It's just a lot of fun. I had a great time catching up with my Dad and Taka over tasty Dim Sum goodness, and loved that they got the chance to meet my new roommate. All in all, Sunday success story, I'd say.

 

Craigslist Roomie #8

Some of you may remember an older post on my crazy living situation at 47th Street and 7th Avenue (where I lived in a one-bedroom apartment converted into a three-bedroom apartment with 7 different strangers over the course of one year...). Luckily, I escaped this revolving roommate situation last summer when  good friend of mine from college moved up here and we found an apartment together--one where I actually signed a copy of a real lease with the owner of the building. In other words, one that was not being sublet illegally to the highest bidders. It's a wonderful thing, legitimacy.


In other parts of the country, I'm pretty certain that people typically don't live with complete strangers, except maybe their freshman year of college--and then it's widely considered pretty unnerving, as exemplified by the premise of the horror flick The Roommate. So, this summer I was pretty excited to have scored a semi-normal living situation (as normal as sharing a studio converted into a two-bedroom in Chinatown can be, anyway). But, suffices to say, it was awesome to actually know the person sharing my bathroom with me!

My roommate and I had a pretty good run for several months and all was hunky-dory, rainbows and butterflies and general mutual respect for each other's own limited space in this spatially-challenged apartment. But, as all good things must (especially living situations with people in their early twenties in a city which encourages constant change), this has, sadly, come to an end.

My roommate is moving in with his long-time boyfriend this weekend. (Damn stable relationships and the havoc they wreak on others!! Kidding. Mostly.) 

So, this means April first I will be living with craigslist stranger #8 since I've moved to New York. I'm not at all worried about it. I've met her and she seemed nice enough. She's just moved to the city from California, has already landed a job at a restaurant, and wants to be a pastry chef. I smell delicious food things in my future!!

I just thought I'd write this post to give anyone who cares to read this blog an idea of how different expectations for living situations are here than in the rest of the country. The cost of rent in Manhattan is crazy ridiculous and prohibits all but those with the most lucrative, high-paying jobs from living alone. The result is that people often end up sharing very small spaces with total strangers--which while scary, is also sort of awesome, because it gives you the opportunity to meet different kinds of people and experience the city with a fresh set of perspectives. It also prevents one from going totally nuts, sitting alone at home in an apartment with no one to talk to but oneself...Not that I've ever caught myself talking aloud alone in my room before. That would be pretty weird, right? Hah...ha.


So anyway, April 1st is a new chapter in my life up here. I'm really sure it will be great, but, if you guys don't see a post from me for a while, maybe check in and make sure I haven't been murdered in my sleep? K, thx!

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Also, if you haven't done so already, go here to give money to disaster victims in Japan. Tons of people over there still don't have running water, food, or electricity. And that's just unacceptable.


And, if you haven't seen my newest article for YPG, check it out here. It's about honing amazing networking skillz, definitely a necessity for us twenty-somethings living through this recession thing...

Road Trip to Queens

This weekend my friend's improv troupe Tickles (awesome name, right?) was scheduled to perform at The Creek and The Cave, a restaurant/bar/comedy venue in Queens. His group has gigs there often,  but usually in the middle of the week and on weeknights I have a bedtime. Like a toddler. 

This show fell on Friday--a night when I am always WOAH excited to stay up and play late with the big kids--so I was super stoked to go.

In theory, getting to The Creek and The Cave from Manhattan is relatively easy. It's two stops from Grand Central, and you can get to Grand Central from almost anywhere in the city in twenty minutes. Under normal circumstances, I would have been looking at about half an hour of travel time, tops. But the gods of MTA (Metropolitan Transit Authority) had other plans. 

No 7 trains were running between Manhattan and Queens that night due to what the MTA gods were vaguely referring to over the loudspeaker as "... an emergency." Which, I mean, c'mon. Really? Somebody dared have an emergency at a time that inconvenienced my travel plans? Rude.

This forced me to take an advised "alternative" route involving no fewer than three subway trains. But I would not be deterred. MTA gods be damned, I was going to make it to that show! So, I took the S to Times Square, then the N to Queensboro Plaza, where I got off to transfer to the 7 train, still running in Queens (just not to Manhattan). All was going swimmingly. I was sitting on the 7 with just enough time to make it to my destination and still not be too late for the show. I sighed a contented sigh of satisfaction. Take that, MTA gods. I beat you yet!


Only, I hadn't.


Several stops passed, and I still hadn't seen mine. I pulled out my phone, just to check how many more to go. That's when I realized I'd made the rookiest of rookie subway mistakes. In my hurry to hop onto the 7 train I'd seen pulling into the station just as I'd gotten off the N at Queensboro Plaza, I'd gotten on it going in the wrong direction. Damn you, MTA gods! Not again! 

This is a mistake I made a lot when I first moved to the city. It's easy to do when you're first learning the different letters and numbers for each line. But...I've been here nearly two years now. Major fail.


I got off at the stop just past Woodside (in other words, very, very deep into Queens) and then transferred to the 7 going the right direction. By the time I got to the show I was way late and also felt like a big idiot. This feeling was only intensified when I tried to sneak into a row of empty chairs, then accidentally (and LOUDLY) knocked over a drink someone had hidden on the floor under a chair. 


BUT--on the bright side, at least it wasn't my own drink! And, there was still half the show left to go so I did actually get to see Tickles perform. They were, as always, hilarious. So, a Friday night salvaged. 

At least until I had to make my way back home and the 7 still wasn't working.... I took the G missed my connection to the N and so then decided to take the C... in other words, Friday night was basically a subway-style road trip. Check out the marked up map below to see my completely indirect, roundabout route! Note: "To" route is in red and "from" route is in blue.