Half In Half Out: Shanghai

I took out my sewing box after dinner: Mom gave some of Q’s old clothes to O, and one pair of pants are too tight; one button fell off O’s tweed jacket and one for a pair of my pants, then two holes in another pair of nice pants that needs some artful work.

It used to be that I could not sit down on the sofa without O coming over to me and grabing my thumb, “Mommy, play with me.” But these days, he seems more contended playing by himself.

So I sat on the sofa, did my sewing under a lamb. And O crawled around and under me directing his various vehicles, while telling a story involving me and him first on a train, then transferred to a double-decker bus, then a trolley, then a taxi, then back to the train…

“Mommy, have you getting on the bus yet?”

“Yes.”

“Which level are you on, top or bottom?”

“I am on the top, I like to sit high.”

“But the top level (of the double-decker bus) is not air-conditioned, is that OK? ”

“That is fine. It is not too hot today.”

“Have you sat down?”

…

It would have been better, I thought as I sew,  if I had on a pair of reading glasses,  and if I were sewing under the light of a oil lamp, but I conceded to admit that this is a picture-perfect for a moment of mother and son.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met here on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But in a larger sense we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled, here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here.

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they have, thus far, so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom; and that this government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

- Abraham Lincoln, The Gettysburg Address

When I walked in just before the first session started at eight thirty, two servicemen with carts were  trying to take away the breakfast and the coffee pots, from a continuous stream of late-arrivers desperately in need of caffeine, who took their turns in carefully tilting the almost-empty pot to get the last drops. The pot seemed to have a lot potential, and offered some to almost everyone.

The session on open source electronic data capturing system had a total eleven people,  including three speakers, in a room designed for 200. It started with, ” Thank you, everyone, I am glad we didn’t have to call our moms to come to listen in…”

Moms are our best friends.

Turned out to be a fantastic session, with overview, history, landscape, competitor analysis,  case studies, how-tos. Balanced, in -depth, well delivered.  Most of the commercial EDC system are inhibitingly expensive, open source seems to be a good solution for  small to medium-sized companies.

Glad I got up for it, though how hard.

The convention center is now empty.  The sign above the row of computer stations at the end of the hall now reads “yber Cafe” -  I wonder why someone took the C. I decided to bid good-bye to the press room in the back of the exhibit hall, only to find the hustling market place now empty floor, litters everywhere. The “press room” sign as well as the room itself could not be found anymore.

From New York to Washington, I am taking the bolt bus.

Most of the people on the bus are asleep. I had my bagle with cream cheese and lox, for drink I had Naked juice involving 2 ¾ green apple, ½ banana, 1/3 kiwi, 1/3 mango and a hint of pineapple, and assorted boost of spirulina, blue green algae, barley grass, ginger, pasley, etc. I then called my mama and my O on my cell phone to China – getting friendly reminder of me being too loud. Oops. Now I am on my music and ready to blog.

I chose Blot bus because it claims to have wifi and power plug-ins. Mega bus too has wifi but no power. I feel a little guilty not taking the legendary Chinatown bus. We used to take Chinatown bus up and down the east coast btw Philadelphia, Boston, Washington. They are insanely cheap only 20 dollars, and sometimes routes 10 dollars, and drop you off in the Chinatown of each city, usually relatively central location. Bus is nothing fancy, but mostly on time, and does the job just fine.

The legendary story goes like this, as told Mae who did the NY-Boston travel for many years. When Greyhound, the biggest long distance bus carrier bought Peterpan, the second, greyhound claimed monopoly on the business of transporting people. They took the liberty to raise the price up and up, to something like seventy dollars from 30-40 dollars originally. People hate it but could not do anything about it.

Long and behold, the Chinatown bus appeared. First it was just for the Chinese workers to go between Chinatowns, but soon the word got out. At first, there were first suspicions among the less-Chinese population in the city, then suspicion turned to a bold adventure, then adventure became normal and everyone is taking them – the Chinese, the non-Chinese and the more or less Chinese. The street for drop off and pick up became Port authority bus terminal, soon they added buses right outside port authority, charging half, a third of the price of the greyhound buses inside the terminal building. That was the situation since before we moved to New York, so almost ten years now.

I heard about blot bus from my Washington DC host, who suggested it because the bus stop is only three blocks from his place.

Bolt bus is greyhounds’ fighting back. A subsidiary of greyhound, bolt bus charges similar fare as the Chinatown bus - from New York to DC, $20 for chinatown bus, $19 for bolt if booking online ($25 on site). Being a big company, Bolt added the chichi-froufrou marketing gimmick such as $1 fare, and “price varies at booking time”, I guess to confuse and entice people of less money and more time.

For me, the killer is the wifi and the power outlet, for that makes the trip different. So I am on the bolt bus, instead of the Chinatown bus.

Unfortunately, the wifi comes in and out frequently. And every time it comes in and out, Mr. Bolt ask me to agree to his Terms and Conditions. In addition, I seem to have left my international plug-in adaptor in New York. Sigh, all the guilt for nothing.

…

Bustling traffic.
Tunnel.
Spread of Manhattan skyline, tops of the skyscrapper in the grey cloud.
Cranes. Containers.
Airplanes.
Trees.
River.
Trees. Trees. Tress.

If the greens of trees fill your eyes at the right side, if the blues of the sky fill your eyes at the left side, if you listen to songs of guitar and words of silence and flower opening, if you are drinking fruit juice boosted with spirulina, blue green algae and barley grass, if good moments in New York make you smile and you look forward to more smiles in DC, then even if you have to get up five thirty in the morning after staying up till one thirty, even if you are wifi-less and powerless, even if you feel guilty sitting in a bolt bus, a long distance bus trip is still pleasurable.

I had on a red T-shirt today, with the logo of my own company in large fonts in the front. Jeans. Flats. The compartment of suits and dresses in my luggage, was not opened in New York. The luggage is  now at the bottom of this bus, too going to Washington D.C.

I guess I will open it up in Washington.

M and I worked whole day today.
Ashbox cafe. Champion cafe. Cafe Milk an Roses. This is not counting the Polish lunch place we went to, that serves the pollarsh.

We worked till 10:30, originally wants to get dinner of Sushi together at eleven. But gave up. Exhausted.

I got some soymilk in the corner store. Walked there and back.

Greenpoint, not Williamsburg, is actually the neighborhood. M told me Williamsburg is getting so crazy at night, the look of after a big parade, even she does not go there anymore. She likes Greenpoint, it is more peaceful, relaxed, and now that she has a baby, she like that it is more family oriented.

Lou was leaning against the door to keep it open while checking something on his phone, seemingly without intention to help out with the lugguge the taxi driver had set on the curbside.

“You are not going to help me with my lugguage?” I challenged him.

“Oh, yeah, of course.”  He took the big one, through a heavy metal door, upstairs, through another heavy metal door.

We walked into the space. I saw the space, and said, “Wow!”

The loft looked a lot nicer than the pictures. Ceiling at least five meters, if not more, open beams, ceiling light, Norwegian white paint. The central space are separated only by functional furniture, kitchen area a tall large wood counter, the dining area a glass dinning table and tall flower vase, and the living room a few sofas, the big and pushing kind, randomly set aside in one far corner. The music had great acoustic effect in the space, and I was right away turned into my down-to-earth mode.

First it was Alex, a tall shy guy in white T-shirt, with cold hands, who let me know of his cat “dirty”, saying she may snare at strangers.  Dirty is a big black cat with enormously puffed hair. I voiced my opposition to the name. (”Naming a cat dirty, is like naming a guy ugly.” I got some good humored laughter.)

Then Andrea and Maggie came in. Shook hands. They looked tired, and slammed themselves on the sofa, read New Yorkers,  then later both fell asleep.

Then Danny. Big guy. He sat on the living room table and started on his sandwich.

Then Maegan came in.  The four of us chatted a bit. Maegan was eager to start the work, so we came into our room

————–

Dinner in M and C’s place. Chris made sour crow, sausage, corn. So good, I embarrassed myself with a fourth serving.

I am the first on the standby list. My confirmed flight is 11:05 AM, but I want to be in New York early to catch some work time with M. So I have been in the airport and behind the security check since, on the standby of three flights already, always the top three, but I am not flying yet – all flights full, and nobody late for the gate.

The last day in the conference was short. The exhibit hall is closed, as well as the general poster area. Some people came in and out of the session with luggage, and the sessions always end with a “have a good trip home”.

I asked A what to take home from the conference. Ipilimumab was the answer. So I am going home with this message from my ASCO adventure: ipilimumab, short for ipi and a.k.a., unpronouncimab, as a immune therapy for metastatic melanoma.

Ipi is an antibody to a T-cell surface antigen CTLA-4 (cytotoxic T-lymphocyte antigen 4), which acts as a brake to T-cell activation. When the antibody ipi blocks CTLA-4, T-cell is activated to attack cancer cells. A large scale clinical trial presented in the ASCO meeting showed that ipi survival benefit of more than four months, This is significant because metastatic melanoma is one of the hardest forms of cancer to treat. And for 30 years, there has not been any treatment options and IL-2, was approved ten years ago, but only marginally useful.

Whew.

(If you press me, and as I indeed pressed A, the second conference take-home is Cricizonib for non-small cell lung cancer, and it came with a nice feel-good discovery story. The drug worked very well in clinical trials on cancer cells  that has a type of mutation called ALK fusion protein. Pfizer  developed the drug for something else, and had no idea about the ALK mutation. But a Japanese scientist analyzed a  cancer patient’s mutation, and found the miraculous correlation.)

To be frank, the first take-home message really should be to do some homework before coming to such a important  international conference. In a field I am marginally familiar with,  I was lost, challenged, and discouraged in many of the sessions. I did enjoyed very much the plenary session including an fantastic review on RAS signal pathway given by my grand-advisor. So that is nice.

So I am on the plane off Chicago, with these two and half messages.

When I packed and said good-bye to Jessica and Justin last night, they told me that I was their best airbnb guest. Jessica also said, “I want to be like you, when I am at your stage.” I am sure the expressions are gestures of exaggerated nicety, but maybe they think I am among the best guest, and I am very good in general, which is cool.  We three hugged, and Justin helped my luggage downstairs and into the taxi, and we three hugged again, and I said, “You are good kids. Good luck with everything.”

The next stop is New York. I booked a Williamsburg loft to stay with airbnb. M and I will do some work together in the next few days.

New York. New York.

New York.

9:58 AM: Can I just express how comfortable I feel with this video?

I dreaded waking up between three and four o’clock in the morning - sometimes mind crystal clear, body inert; sometimes the other way around. I wonder if people taking the superduper business first class, with a dentist chair-like device bestowed upon them, have this problem too. Jet lag. Jet lag. Jet lag.

Today I may have found the key to conquer the problem - keywords: iphone app.

So from four to I think nine, I spent five hours, setting up the itune store, fiddling with them not accepting a Chinese credit card,  looking at various apps, download, and played. The first one was Yelp, the restaurant reviews scattered on a map, then skype, then ice cream cone maker, bubble popper, color filler, then medical dictionary, then a thing that broadcast the fire department radio reception from around the world! Absolutely mesmerizing, and absolutely engaging. And I downloaded two bus schedule applications that will tell me how many minutes away a bus is coming.

I didn’t get out of the door till almost two, but I found the currency exchange, I learned them to be “checks cashed” place, and got myself a seven-day CTA bus, for 23 dollars.   The 21 Cermak bus landed beautifully at main entrance of the convention center, and the checkout line was zero. I did later took the metra, in the wrong direction, to South Chicago 55, 56, 57 street, and had to waited for 45 min there to catch a train back, to meet B at Randolph and Michigan.

Having seen B for five years, but it didn’t show. The conversation picked up right away and we talked talked talked, first over dinner, then coffee. If it were not that she has to catch the 9:45 train to suburb, we could talk for ever.

And on the way back from the pink line stop, I was so scared that I lost track of direction, and walked an extra two blocks. What am I scared off?

Tonight, if I get up at four, I will install those apps in my blackberry.

I was the last one on the airport shuttle.  The driver told me that my address was outside of his regular route, but he took me because Justin had assured him that it is real close and real easy to find, and because he is real kind. I asked him if the neighborhood is safe. He said during the day it should be ok, but one may not want to walk around at night.

Wow, the neighborhood looks dicey!

Justin was out on the street waiting for me, and helped the two luggage up two flights of stairs. It is a two bedroom apartment, one of which Jessica and Justin is subleasing out in airbnb for travelers.

The apartment is unpretentious and comfortable - plants, posters, pictures. In the living room, an old time furnace, two bicycles, two LP players, a volume control center and a large base speaker arranged around the coffee table. Red curtains.

The three of us went to a neighborhood Mexican restaurant for late dinner. Jessica recommended a Bomba, a large sandwich filled with bacon, pork, saucage pices. It tasted so good. I also tried a drink called Horchata drink - cinnamon rice milk. Both great.

Coming home, I got on line and started surfing, while chatting with Jessica. Later Allen the neighbor came over and chatted.

I feel so relaxed. After 14 hours of flight and some more tuepidation, and it is now time to go to  sleep.