5 Years Later

" A Hole in the City's Heart"

(Ground Zero at Sunset on August 16, 2006) NY Times

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was in my first couple of weeks of grad school in Newark, NJ -- a city that is connected to the World Trade Center by a 30-minute ride on the PATH train. I had recently quit my job in midtown Manhattan to go back to school full time. While I worked in Manhattan, I lived in Jersey City and commuted to midtown everyday via the PATH, then caught the E train uptown at the WTC. Like a lot of people, Manhattan was where I had my first job after college and my commute through the WTC everyday represented much of that coming-of-age feeling and was the perfect snapshot of all my ambitions in that moment in time.

One of my favorite memories of New York was the rush and excitement of stomping up those stairs from the PATH train to the subway trains couple levels up surrounded by mobs of people rushing to work. No matter I was never a morning person, rushing up those escalators (stairs on a good day) with all those men and women in dark suits and long trench coats holding their morning Starbucks always made me feel instantly alive, awake, and ready to conquer the world.


That morning at school, I woke up in my dorm room and showered to get ready for my 9:30 AM class. I shared a suite with 3 other girls who were all in the same class as me. At 9AM, one of my roommates shouted "Oh my god... the World Trade Center is on fire!" I ran into her room with my hair dripping wet and stood frozen in front of the 16-inch TV. I stared at the screen and couldn't understand what I was seeing. One of the towers was smoking and I blurted out, "What is that? Is that happening now?" None of my roommates answered because they couldn't make sense of what was going on either.

18 minutes later, we watched the second plane crash into the South Tower. Looking back now, that was such a critical moment when things started to spiral. But, at that time, we never imagined that things were going to get as bad as they did. We talked about what we saw on TV and kept getting ready for school.

By the time we got to school (about 10 minutes later), it seemed like the world was falling apart. There were people standing in front of the schoolfrantically calling on their cell phones. One of the towers had collapsed. Classes were officially cancelled. Many of our professors lived in either Manhattan or the other boroughs of New York City so they were unable to come in. Students who already arrived from the City for their early classes were now trapped in New Jersey and could not get home. Rumors that the school was bringing in mattresses for students who couldn't go back home so that they could stay overnight at the school. Everyone at the dorms started offering their rooms for classmates to crash. We could see the smoke from the WTC from the top of our building. We all turned around started walking home back to the dorms... this time with about 10-15 more students... to sit back in front of the TV.

Things became a blur after that. The second tower collapsed, the Pentagon was hit, Washington Mall, Pennsylvania.... as things got increasingly worse, I became a bit sick from thinking of my friends in the City who I still could not reach because all the cell phone lines were clogged, and I didn't receive anything on email. My school became a triage center for victims from the City. By 1PM, I was finally able to make connections with my friends in the City and in Washington, D.C.

As each year passes and 9/11 gets farther and farther away, I start forgetting details of the day's events after that morning, but I always remember the people that were in my life on that day and whose safety made me wrought with worry. Every single one of the friends I called that day have either moved out of New York or D.C. and now live in Boston, Chicago, and California. Some of the friendships have grown stronger, some I'm not as in frequent contact with, and with one.... a romance has fizzled. But on Sept. 11 of each year, I call those same people that I called on 9/11 just to say hi and see how they are. They don't always think about 9/11 like I do and I don't always bring it up. We catch up and tell each other what's new or what's not. The conversation is usally meaningless and most times my call will go straight to their voicemail. But somehow that little personal ritual always makes me feel glad that they were safe on that day so that I can make the call today.

A Necessary Joint

I finally had a good 4 solid hours to sit down and watch When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts tonight. As an American, I feel ashamed that in the last 4 hours I thought more about Hurricane Katrina and the devastation it caused to the people of New Orleans today than I ever did during this time last year when New Orleans was just passing cocktail conversation at a trendy Manhattan bar.

Spike Lee Joints have always been notable films in my mind, but I can't say I've liked them all. But this documentary was worth every minute of the long 4 hours. This documentary did its job -- it brought the devastation of Hurricane Katrina to life in a raw and most humanistic way -- without cutting corners and without stuffing it down your throat. But the most alarming thing is not so much how many people died as a result of Katrina, how many people still are without FEMA trailers or how the clean up is still not done 1 year later. The most alarming thing is that despite knowing how badly we botched up in New Orleans, the Government continues to "slap a little puddy and put a band-aid on [New Orleans]" without taking care of a KNOWN problem once and for all.

Be Afraid, be very very afraid.....

Remnents of Indy Summer

Labor Day has came and gone. Those lush green leaves on the ground rather than on trees. A bright yellow tinge appears next to the green and spreads methodically till it takes over the entire leaf. The air turns cool and brisk -- Fall is in the air.

As much as I like Fall, I'm sad that Summer is ending. I was so busy this Summer that I didn't get to share how much I've enjoyed Indy Summers. Spring and Summer are definitely the most beautiful seasons here. Here are some Summer Pics. I promise to do better next summer.

My backyard at Dusk (around 8PM)

Sky, sky, and more sky as far as the eye can see.

Will I ever get there?

create your own visited country map
My friend, chanchow, recently decided to count up the number of countries that she's visited. As an avid traveler myself, I decided to perform the same exercise. Sadly, my 17 countries look pretty pathetic in the big picture. I think the Southern Hemisphere is the next new frontier for me.


create your own personalized map of the USA
But then I look at the map of the U.S. and realize that I've only been to 16 states out of the 50 states. That's 32% of the countries. That's pretty pathetic on both counts. Well, I plan to add at least 5 more states to that count within the next year.

Michael is IT!

Mark my words, although we are a ways-away from the winner, final 2, or even the final 3 top designers, I'm predicting right now that Michael is going to be the undeniable winner of Project Runway Season 3. He is the most consistent designer on the show. Just take a look at all his creations at Rate the Runway. Who's your favorite?

The Little Bit of Heaven Off of I-15

I generally try not to gush about anything related to California because I think there's enough hype out there about it being the best state (a friend once told me that, if California was a country, it would be the 7th largest economy in the world -- see, absolutely no need to encourage that kind of behavior when the rest of us know that cessession went out of style like 150 years ago).

The talk gets worse when it comes to SoCal -- Southern California, but last weekend, I visited a place near L.A. that almost made me change my mind.

My friend, LP, suggested that we take a long-overdued, well-deserved spa day this weekend. So I flew out to L.A. and took a drive along I-15. At first I thought she was just taking me to an ordinary day spa in a mall. But as we drove further and further out into the desert, I realized that we were not going anywhere near a mall. An hour out of the suburbs of L.A., LP turned off an exit on I-15 that said "Glen Ivy." LP joked, "Look, this spa is so big, it gets its own sign off the freeway!" And sure enough, we drove into the mountains of San Bernardino Valley and there was Glen Ivy Hot Springs. For $48, you can spend a whole day (that's 9-5) at this hot spring PARK. I've never seen anything like it. There are about 10 pools that each have its own "specialty" from mineral baths, mud baths, to sulpher baths. The highlight is the California red clay mud bath where you get to lather each other up in indigenous red clay and bake in the sun. Afterwards, you can go into a sauna like cave and steam it off. For an additional 20 bucks, you can put all the moisture that was sucked out of you from the mud by going in these underground caves where attendants lather you up with aloe and various green lotions until your skin is supple again. You also get an apple at the end of the trip.

When you get sick of wading in the pools and slathering mud all over yourself, you can eat at their gourmet restaurant by the pool side or get a treatment in one of the spa houses that surround the pools (massage, facial, haircut, mani&pedi).

For about $50 bucks, the entire day was well worth it. I would not suggest the underground caves much though -- the caves were artificial and the lotion I could've put on myself above ground.

Expectant Mother Parking

What has this world come to? And the lines marking the parking space were PINK!!!! I just have to say this was not found in Indy but while I was in L.A. last weekend -- Crazy Californians.

The Beginning in Hoosier Land

For those of you that don't know. A person from Indiana is called a "Hoosier." Since I recently moved to Indianapolis from New York, I thought I'd explore the term a little bit.

The derivation of the term has given historians, poets, artists, etc. much to talk about since the mid 1800's when Indiana officially became a state. So why are people from Indiana called "Hoosiers" instead of "Indian-ans"? Well, there are apparently lots of theories, but the one I like the best is by Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley. Way back when, pioneers of Indiana fought so violently that "noses were bitten off and eyes jabbed out during these brawls." According to Riley, "Hoosier" comes from the question posed by a stranger after entering a southern Indiana tavern and pushing a piece of human flesh with his boot toe: "Who's ear?"

Don't believe me? Here's an essay on "What's a Hoosier?"