discipline, disappointment, and DMs
may '24
I was very good at cutting corners as a kid. When Coach Beni, my U16 soccer coach, assigned us workout routines to follow weekly, I skipped out on as many as I could. Mind you, these were to be done everyday - And it didn’t matter whether you had a math test or a lab report due at the end of the week, he was convinced these conditioning exercises were essential to making us better players. He was probably right. But I was a stubborn, lazy, unforgiving teenage boy with nothing but rebellion and ego in my veins. My dad would act as my at-home-coach and enforce the conditioning log (see below) as best he could. But little did he know, as I left the garage with running shoes and a glance at my watch, I would sneak around to the side of my house, and juggle my ball instead. After about 20 minutes, I would use the garden hose to sprinkle my forehead with some water and run back into the house, panting and asking for some water. I’m sure I fooled my parents but what I didn’t expect is that I would deprive myself of strong disciplinary fitness/wellness habits.
More than a decade later, I find myself on a 75-medium challenge, disciplined by another Google Sheet and couple good friends (Anthony, Franklin, and Anya) to keep me accountable. This time I set my own guidelines, including a healthy daily diet, a gallon of water intake, sub 3-hour screen time, and a workout + walk every day. The workout part looks a bit different now, with climbing, soccer, tennis, pickleball, cycling, and other things. I’m trying my best not to cut corners this time; I’ll report back in 75 days.
i’m feeling lucky
Oh my goodness, what a playlist we have for the month of May! I delayed the release of this one, just to account for new tunes from Charlotte Day Wilson, WILLOW, Tom Misch, L’imperatrice, and Dua Lipa. But it’s here! and it’s filled with gems!
[Archive playlist can be found here, and in my spotify bio]
murphy’s law
As I mentioned briefly in last month’s letter, Anya and I spent 10 days in Argentina and Uruguay. We booked this trip because we loved our last trip to South America, Bogotà, and we had heard only great things about Argentina. Folks told us that Argentina was even cheaper, and had even better food. So we did our due diligence in planning, picking out all the best spots - I’d say we’re pretty good at it too. I’m a hyper-specific details-type planner so I had flights, transport, accommodation, and daily itinerary, tucked under my wing. Anya took on the bulk of experience planning, from food to excursions to sight-seeing. We had reservations at Michelin guide restaurants, tours booked to see all the key landmarks, and a Google Map list of underrated spots gathered from Reddit threads. I give you this context as an intentional precursor to the very disappointing sentence that comes next:
Our trip sucked. And I’ll tell you all about it with the help of Anthony Bourdain and his wise remarks on food and travel.
“Bad food is made without pride, by cooks who have no pride, and no love. Bad food is made by chefs who are indifferent, or who are trying to be everything to everybody, who are trying to please everyone… Bad food is fake food… food that shows fear and lack of confidence in people’s ability to discern or to make decisions about their lives.” - Anthony Bourdain
This quote holds true for most of our trip, as the food was purely underwhelming. And for a country that prides itself on having pride, the food we tasted had no pride, confidence, or love. We tried everything from empanadas to steak to McDonalds. Every dish we had was under-salted. Every dish. We were thoroughly disappointed by Day 2 and scavenged for decent food like starving hyenas in the Lion King. It’s also important to note that our adventures are generally centered around food - as I believe they should be, in most cases. The food of a specific people or region is an invitation into their culture. When the food is underwhelming, under-salted and under-flavored, you begin to lose faith in the culture overall. We began to question the integrity of those Yelp reviews and the Michelin guide that kept leading us to unsatisfied tongues. Dare I mention, we spent an average of $45 on every meal, in a country where an empanada was supposed to be 50 cents. If we revisit my analysis on time : taste : cost, we were scoring low every day. And because negativity compounds fast, we soon grew tired of looking for better food.
"An ounce of sauce covers a multitude of sins." - Anthony Bourdain
Anya and I repeatedly asked for sauce, salsa, chimichurri, or “algo con picante o mas sabor”, in an attempt to make a delightful meal out of what was delivered. Most restaurants would provide us something, after a few questionable stares. At one supposedly-famous restaurant, we had to use a garlic sauce, chimichurri, rock salt, ketchup, and mustard to make the milanesa flavorful. Another time, we found ourselves in a highly-rated (but surprisingly empty) empanada place that actually looked good in the photos. We waited 45 minutes for 3 empanadas, and after the man brought them over, I preemptively asked for chimichurri or salsa. He chuckled and responded, “No, you eat it just like that.” An ounce of sauce can definitely cover a multitude of sins, and we were left without sauce on this one.
On the 4th day, we turned away from traditional Argentinian food and decided to explore other cuisines that were also “highly-rated.” We tried a Korean place, Chinese place, and even an Indian place. They were better, but not satisfying in the least. When I asked for chili oil in the Korean restaurant, I was given japaleño salsa. *Sigh*
“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” - Anthony Bourdain
Sure, the food sucked - but the trip wasn’t all fun and games otherwise. The tours were boring and spent hours talking about the mixing of 3 colonial-era cultures: Italians, Germans, and Spanish. The architecture was half-hearted, and the whole city felt like an unsettling version of Chicago, with wannabe bike lanes, Subways, and upscale bars. We thought maybe we’d drink the shitty experience away but drinks were just as costly as America - what’s the point. We intended to spend some beach time in Uruguay, but much to our luck, the water was browner than my skin and the clouds were dull and wet. A Chinese restaurant we visited, waited until we had full bellies, to tell me their card machine was broken, forcing me into the streets of Montevideo with an American credit card in exchange for 1660 Uruguayan Pesos (43USD). Next, we fled to an Indian restaurant, where the chef got too excited to see Indian folks and green chili-d the fuck out of the meal. While we drowned ourselves in his complementary after-the-fact lassis, Anya and I shared a look of surrender. Panting and sweating, we came to the decision to cut our trip short and head home.
I preponed our flights by 2 days and we spent one final night back in Buenos Aires before heading out. This final Airbnb had a leaky A/C unit that relieved itself over my laptop, plus a shower that didn’t drain! We were so fed up and ready to go home. One last meal at a Vegan restaurant seemed like the proper no-bullshit way to end a shitty experience but thanks to Murphy’s Law, I was hit by some allergic reaction and spent my final daylight hour heaving and nauseous. And finally, our Uber ride to the airport took 3x as long due to a thunderstorm and rush-hour traffic, causing us to miss the intended flight home. After begging with impatient Delta staff, we made it on a later flight through NYC. 16 hours later, we landed in Austin, eager for salted food and a proper shower.
This trip wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t comfortable. It hurt, and it broke my heart, for sure. But that’s okay, because the journey changed us and left a mark on us. We knew that just days later, we’d be able to laugh at this whirlwind experience. I’ll still cherish all the smiling faces we met at the market, and all the overjoyed chefs who we lied to. We still bought cute trinkets and fridge magnets to remember the trip by, because even the bad experiences deserved to be remembered. I’m glad that we went, and I’m glad that this trip beat us up - even if it’s just so I could write this piece…? Worth it.
through my eyes
At least we made a few friends in Buenos Aires…
evan finds the third room
I’ve heard a bit of buzz around this concept of ‘the third place’, on social media and Substack. A lot of folks claim that late Millenials and Gen Z people are depressed and socially isolated because we don’t have a ‘third place’. In sociology, ‘the third’ place refers to the social surroundings that are separate from the two usual social environments of home and the workplace. In our parents generation and before, a third place was a to decompress, to have pleasure and fun, beyond their first two places of work and home. The argument is that while the current generations also have work and home as their first two places, the third place is held within a digital realm - on social media.
This third place ends up being an all-encompassing-digital-habitat that we resort to and check-in constantly with our peers. Nowadays, the third place is not a physical space or a communcal club, but maybe a groupchat or set of DMs that represents a place of being. We coexist online for this specific reason: community.
I do think we lack some physical aspect of these spaces though. In a physical space - bar, park, cafe, someone’s living room/kitchen, parking lot - we experience the tactility and tangibility of human expression. A little glance goes a long way and the sound of laughter energizes the air. These moments can’t be replicated with an emoji reaction or a voice note - it’s not the same.
Then again, I’m no stranger to this; I also use social media as a place of community beyond work and home. But I’d like to think that it’s my fifth or sixth place. My third place ends up diversified across multiple locations - such as the climbing gym, soccer fields, living rooms, and more. Beyond and within these spaces, exists a social media realm, but not exclusively as a third place. I also think this generation values time differently, and therefore we tend to be intentional with our places, ensuring some higher value with each one. I think we’ve been conditioned to believe that simple coexistence of beings in a space without an agenda is counterproductive and therefore wasteful. I wish this wasn’t the case but I too believe that if I’m not doing something, then it’s a waste of my time.
This is where Khruangbin comes in. Evan Finds the Third Room is a groovy song by one of my favorite bands, Khruangbin. Here’s a sample of the lyrics:
Yes, yes, yes, yes
Yes, this is the third room
Yes, this is the third room
Yes, this is the third room
Yes, this is the third roomJump in the water
Jump in the waterYes
Apparently the song represents some inside joke about the band’s manager, Evan, finding a third hotel room when touring somewhere. But when I looked on Reddit for an explanation, I also found this comment:
Are you picking up what I’m putting down? Thanks to HungryPanduh_, this song isn’t so much about Evan but rather establishes a new definition of ‘the third place.’ It doesn’t have to be a groupchat, a bar, a gym or even a video call… it just has to be YES.
[It’s a stretch, I know - just listen to the song, ok]
link dump
what architecture can teach us about web design
why we don’t really need 8k TVs
52 definitive rules of flying
jack conte talking about the death of followers
Thanks for sticking around to the end of a rather long May letter. The drafts folder is overflowing and I’d love to keep writing but this will have to do for now. I can’t wait to update you on my current living situation, progress with my startup, and much more in next month’s letter. Until then, please call your mothers this Sunday, hug your friends when you see them, and keep your ears filled with good tunes.
What a bummer, I had some lovely meals in Buenos Aires (though not Uruguay) when I stayed there for a few months in 2008. I’m so curious about what the accountability spreadsheet looks like for pickleball!