Categories
It Happened to Me Toronto (a.k.a. Accordion City)

Bike

Photo: My bike, the Scorpion King (a Trek Cruiser).

Pictured above is my primary means of getting about Accordion City, the

Scorpion King. For getting to and from work as well as travel within

the core of Accordion City that doesn’t require me to carry large

parcels, a bicycle is by far the most cost- and time-efficient means of

getting around. It’s also non-polluting and a good way to burn off some

excess calories.

I suppose I could ride one of those “city bikes” or “urban hybrids”

that everyone seems to go for these days. They’re essentially

mountain-bike-ish designs tweaked for city use, and were I the sort of

person trying to shave seconds off my trips, I’d probably get one.

However, there’s a certain charm to the old 1950’s style “cruisers”

that other bikes lack, and having fenders and a chain guard allows me

to dress nicely and bike at the same time. I’m not a stickler for

authencity; I prefer cruisers with hand brakes and gears over the

no-gear versions with coaster brakes that serious cruiser aficionados

go for.


While my bike is my means of transporting myself to and from my

workplace, for some, it is their workplace. Frank Duff is one person

who works on his bike. In September 2003 — roughly around the time I

left independent contract work to accept a full-time job at Tucows —

Duff left the world of programming to become a full-time bike courier:

There are a

number of reasons why the courier life was particularly attractive to

this budding young programmer. Part of it was of course standard Office

Space fantasy. But there was more. Gibson and Stephenson had taught me

that the messenger, the mailman, was a vital romantic figure. The

soldier of the information age.

And I won’t

pretend that I was blind to the fact that, in this urban world, the

devil-may-care deliverator is something of a sex symbol.

And besides, I liked to ride. I loved it.

In A Coder in Courierland,

Duff writes about why he chose to leave the “in the mind” world of

computer programming and go into the “in the body” world of the bike

couriers.

My street musician hobby has given me insights into Accordion City and

the people on its streets that otherwise would’ve escaped my notice. Duff seems to have had the same experience as a courier:

And

couriering will teach you to know your city in ways you never imagined.

I have always loved Toronto, but if you will forgive the metaphor, I

feel that my relationship has transitioned from that of a secret

admirer to that of a lover. I can call up at will the most intimate

details of the financial core and of various tendrils extending

therefrom.

You will

develop a camaraderie with the other peoples of the street. You will

find yourself exchanging knowing nods with hot dog vendors and buskers.

Even mailmen and FedEx drivers (with whom couriers share a mutual

conviction that each’s job is superior to the other’s) become your

brothers and sisters of sorts.

He’s also discovered the power of street cred:

And yes, if you have even the slightest bit of charm, you will have plenty of opportunity to pick up hot receptionists.

Being a bike courier isn’t a job for everyone. It’s

hazardous work; there are a lot of car drivers out there who think that

bikes don’t belong on the road and many more who just have no idea how

to share the road with cyclists. It can be unpleasant biking all day

when it’s 20 degrees below freezing. It also doesn’t pay terribly well.

He says that it worked out to CAD$7.00 an hour when he started out; I

made more than that selling sno-cones in high school, and that was in

1985 dollars. This must’ve been a drastic change from the paycheque he

was collecting as a programmer.

In spite of all the drawbacks, I must credit Duff with taking a chance

and seeing if he was really doing what he wanted to do. I’ve always

said that if you’re going to spend half your waking life doing

something, it shouldn’t be something you hate or dread.

Categories
Uncategorized

Charlie’s Realtors

Speaking of house-hunting, here’s an amusing real estate ad I’ve been saving for just such an occasion:

Photo: Realtor ad with agents striking a 'Charlie's Angels' pose.

Categories
It Happened to Me Toronto (a.k.a. Accordion City)

Slouching Towards Yuppiedom

If my life were a Winnie the Pooh

book (the A.A. Milne version, not the Disney version), the subtitle for

the current chapter would be “In Which the Accordion Guy and the

Redhead Search for a House”.

Unfortunately, Sunday open houses all take place at the same time —

between 2 and 4 in the afternoon. That limits the number of places we

can see today, so I’m taking Wendy on a walking tour of some

neighbourhoods to give her a better “feel” for them, which should be

helpful since she’s not from around here.

See you folks at Kickass Karaoke later tonight!

It’s a Girl!

Congratulations to my old friends from Crazy Go Nuts University, Ashley Bristowe and Chris “Turner” Turner, on the birth of a healthy 8-pound 9-ounce girl!

Categories
Uncategorized

Out There

While surfing around, I found some interesting material I thought you folks might enjoy:

  • How Lisa Came to Israel, Part 6:

    Back in January, I pointed you to Lisa’s blog, which had the first five

    installments of the story of how she ended up moving from Canada to

    Israel. She’s been busy, but at last Part 6 has been posted! In case

    you missed them, she’s posted links to earlier installments.

  • Someone beat Vanilla Ice to that rhyming couplet! Deenster

    writes about a song she learned at the Hasidic day camp she went to

    when she was very young:

    All the animals that we eat

    must chew their cud and have split feet

    but kosher meat just can’t be beat

    i want kosher meat to eat!

    So…Take your ham and take your bacon

    i won’t eat themyou’re mistaken

    I’m a Jew and I’m not fakin’

    I want Kosher meat to eat!

    The

    “bacon / fakin'” rhyme sounded familiar, and moments later, it dawned

    on me: years (probably decades) after the song above was written, we

    got Vanilla Ice’s Ice Ice Baby:

    Now that the party is jumping

    With the bass kicked in and the vegas are pumpin’

    Quick to the point to the point no faking

    I’m cooking MC’s like a pound of bacon

    In honour of these songs, here’s a little stanza I wrote called “Asian Dietary Rules”:

    If it’s got four legs and isn’t the table
    Cook it and eat as long as you’re able

    That also reminds me of Dizzy Gillespie’s Hey Pete, Let’s Eat More Meat [Windows Media sample | RealAudio sample].

  • Liz “mamamusings” Lawley’s Video Game Store Lament. After a

    terrible experience getting a PlayStation 2 for her son at the local

    video game store, Liz came up with an interesting idea:

    Sometimes I think that what I ought to do is open up the ultimate gaming spot geared towards parents

    as well as their kids. There’s not much out there that targets tweens,

    really. The hands-on museums are for the younger set. The game stores

    and arcades are more for the teenagers (and the parents hate being

    there). So why not create a place that tweens will love, and that their

    parents won’t mind taking them?

    One

    of the projects we’re working on here at the Research and Innovation

    department of Tucows is games, so this sort of this is interesting and

    relevant to my work. I’ll write more about it in the upcoming weeks.

  • Somebody actually tried it! Julie Leung read my posting about deep-fried Oreos and actually made them. (Yeah, it’s a post from a while back, but I’ve meaning meaning to point to it for so long.)
Categories
Uncategorized

USB Chinese and Japanese Food

[Cross-posted to The Farm]

Data storage never looked so yummy: this place sells

siu mai and

tempura USB drives…

Photo: USB

  drives that look like siu mai.

Dim Sum RAM! Click the photo to see the web page

where you can order this.

Photo: USB

  drives that look like tempura.

Tempura-licious! Click the photo to see the web

page where you can order this.

…and this place will

take care of all your USB sushi needs:

Photo: USB

  drives that look like sushi.

Put me down for two salmon and two broiled eel!

Click the photo to see the web page where you can order

this.

Categories
Uncategorized

If Alternative Formalwear is Barong, I Don’t Want to be Ba-Right

For my wedding, I considered going with the basic “monkey suit”

option…for approximately twenty seconds. I thought I’d go with

something that was both traditional and unusual (at least in this

corner of the world) and wear the traiditonal Filipino formal wear, a Barong Tagalog, which is often shortened to “barong”. When I told Dad that I wanted

to wear one, he suggested that the men in the wedding party wear

barongs also. September 24th just became Barongapalooza!

Photo: DeVilla family -- with the men in barongs -- in Manila, before my cousin Rowena's wedding, April 2000.

Family photo taken in Manila in April 2000 before my

cousin Rowena’s wedding. From left to right: My brother-in-law Richard,

Yours Truly, my sister Eileen, Mom, and in the centre, Dad.

Originally called the “baro ng Tagalog” — “dress of the Tagalog” —

and condensed to just two words, the Barong Tagalog is considered to be

just as formal as a suit or even black tie, but is considerably more

comfortable, especially in a hot and humid climate.

Photo: Me on my aunt's paino in a Barong.

Ray Charles would’ve looked good in a barong.

A barong is an embroidered shirt made of a sheer material called pina, which is woven from fibers extracted from pineapple leaves. Some barongs are made of pina blended with jusi

(Chinese silk). Barongs are cut larger than your typical dress shirt

and are worn untucked, over the pants. I’m surprised hip-hop artists

haven’t caught onto them yet.

Photo: Me, Eileen and Richard, Manila 2000.

Me, my sister Eileen and brother-in-law Richard.

The barong is co-opted fashion. The Spanish colonials who took over the

Philippines 400 years ago demanded that the natives wear the precursor

to the modern barong. Its sheerness made it impossible to hide weapons

(knife-fighting is a Filipino martial art), its lack of pockets made

thievery impossible, and wearing it untucked separated the natives from

the Spaniards, who were the only people allowed to wear their shirts

tucked in.

Photo: Joey playing accordion in a barong.

Playing the wedding march at my friends Thaba and Phet’s

wedding, September 2000. “Hey fellas! What’s cooler than being cool!

Barong Tagalog and accordion — ICE COLD!

Even under colonization, some natives prospered. While still required to

wear the barong to mark themselves as inferior to the Spanish colonials, they began adding designs and embroidery to

the barong. A modern equivalent to this sort of co-opting can be seen

in today’s baggy and oversized hip-hop clothing worn by rap artists:

the look is derived from ill-fitting prison clothes.

We “Flips” be tha

original bad-asses, yo.

Photo: Freddie Leelin.

My main rival in the quest for the title of “Biggest clown in the deVilla clan”: my cousin Freddie.

It would not be until the 20th century that the Barong Tagalog would

gain prestige. That was when president Manuel Quezon declared it “The

National Dress”. It would take a few more decades and presidents for the barong to

rise in stature, as the strong American influence in the Philippines

made the suit — particularly the sharkskin suit the preferred dress outfit. (Dad was married in

one; he looked so “Goodfellas”!)  President Magsaysay would later elevate it to formalwear.

However, it was President Ferdinand Marcos who would really popularize

it; first by enlisting the help of Pierre Cardin to modernize it, then

by requiring government employees to wear barongs and finally, by

declaring an offical “Barong Tagalog Week” in 1975.

Photo: DeVilla clan in barongs.

Aunts, uncles and parents. From left to right: (Rear) my

aunt Beth deVilla, Mom, uncle Ravenal “Baby” Santos. (Front) Dad, aunt

Thelma Leelin, uncle Fred Leelin.

The barong also went less formal. A short-sleeved variant appeared in

the 70s and can be considered business attire. In the 1990s, an even

more casual cotton version would start appearing in surf and skateboard

shops and later in my  own wardrobe.

My brother-in-law Richard demonstrates the upside of

globalization: when else in history could a Korean guy from Canada

enjoy an icy Tiazzo at the Starbucks in Forbes Park, Manila while

wearing a barong?

Like the tuxedo, some designers have gone wild and made the barong in

all sorts of colours, but the classic barong simply uses the natural

colour of the pina or jusi fibres, ranging from off-white to ecru. It’s traditionally worn over the traditional undershirt, the camisa de chino, but often a thin white t-shirt will do. Button it up all the way to the top, add black dress pants (remember to not tuck the barong in) and dress shoes, and you’re stylin’ and ready to go!

Photo: My cousin Manny and me in barongs, Manila, April 2000.

Manny and I did the readings at Rowena’s wedding.

The invitees from the deVilla side were surprised to hear that the male

members of the wedding party and I would be wearing barongs. The

assumption is that in North America, even a Filipino groom would typically

wear a suit. Howver, since this wedding is going to be an unusual blend

of Jewish and Filipino customs, why not go all out? Upon hearing that I

was going to wear a barong, many of my relatives announced that they

too would wear them. Combined with yarmulkes, we’ll be creating a whole

new look in formalwear.

(If the barong-and-yarmulke fashion catches on, remember: you read it here first!)

If you’re attending the wedding and looking for something a little

different to wear, a barong is an acceptable option. Apparently you can

even order one online — MyBarong.com

does same-day shipping to anywhere in the continental U.S.. I have no

idea of the quality of their goods, but if you’re really interested in

getting a barong, contact me and I’ll see about getting one made in the

Philippines for you.


And now, a very special notice for the best man, George Tudor Scriban: Get off your tuchus, stop being such a yutz and get me those measurements already!

Graphic: Barong measurements


Some Barong Reading: