The image above links to an interesting article by Alistair Gee in the New Yorker. A friend posted this to his FB account, and it caught my attention immediately! I love this article--please take a moment now to read it.
I thought, I could probably write a blog post about smells--then realized I already had in my FB status. I
have a very strong sense of smell, and my spouse does not. He once
asked if it was good or bad for me to have that, and I realized it's
probably good for survival and health (I can easily tell if food is
"off"), but not particularly pleasant. Usually when I notice a smell he
does not, it's something foul. Lucky guy--he doesn't ever smell skunk--wish I could say the same!
BUT, I've also had the joy of returning
to the East Coast to visit a friend, after living in CA for
over 10 years. The smell of the Atlantic was different than the
Pacific, and evoked "home" for me. Lacking the "smell lexicon" from the
article, I couldn't describe the difference, but it was very clear to me.
I had similar experiences returning to Korea after leaving at age 6. Smells I
had not encountered for almost 2 decades smelled of childhood to me. I blogged a while back about the persimmon taste memory. The smells were more elusive during my trip. I would walk down a block, and a smell that was totally familiar would sneak up on me, but attempts to trace it (is it that plant? Did we pass a restaurant?) were usually fruitless. Some melange of the chemical, household cleaners, maybe b.o., no doubt the difference in diet all played a part. (OK, fire off the kimchee jokes now!)
When I quit the email list of Bay Area adult adoptees, I told them, and myself, that it was due to the activities being incompatible with my lifestyle. My little suburban neighborhood is a 90-minute drive away from San Francisco, and almost as far from Berkeley, where most all of the meet-ups and activities were. Add to that the conflict between weekend soccer tournaments, scouting trips, and other day-in-the-life of a suburban working-outside-the-home mother, and I could never seem to attend.
Most of the activities were also geared to adults, not children. Dragging my 2 boys along did not appeal, and time away from them to be on my own is so rare, that I invest that in my girlfriends or my spouse.
But there is another reason I didn't gel with this group. It seems to me that when Korean adoptees gather, it is mostly to commune and share their common grief and loss. The loss of culture. The loss of country. The loss of family if they were old enough to remember them. There is criticism of the Korean culture that values bloodline so much, that Korean families do not generally adopt Korean orphans. The government's lack of social programs to support unwed mothers and their children, whence comes the current supply of Korean babies for adoption. The racial issues that Korean children adopted into white culture must weather, and their parents' preparation, or lack thereof to handle such.
Hello! I've been reading the Kimchi Mamas blog for over a year now, and submitted a guest post last year about My first Christmas Memory. I was delighted to be invited to join as a regular contributor. Below is an excerpt from my introduction to this new audience. If you would like to read the complete post, click here.
I never heard the term "banana" or "twinkie" until I was in college, but instantly related to the term. Having been raised by white parents in 99% white communities, it was a real project for me to learn what it meant to be Korean. I was fortunate to have met a good Korean friend in college, and then spend a year at Yonsei Hanguk Uh-Hakdang, learning to speak, read, and write Korean. By the end of the year, I was able to defend myself from taxicab drivers who criticized my lack of fluency in the mother tongue. Phew!
Growing up in an all white community, facing the inevitable ching-chang-chong and slanted eye harassment of classmates and strangers, I always shrugged off the question, "Do you speak Chinese?", asked by stupid white people who didn't know the difference between the many Asian groups.
I was greatly chagrined, after moving to California, to find that Koreans are always surprised when I try out my limited Korean vocabulary with them. Also, waiters in Chinese restaurants invariably hand me the Chinese menu, while giving my husband the English one. When I ask for the English menu too, they look at me in surprise, and say the same thing all the Koreans do, "Sorry! I thought you were Chinese?" After all these years of denigrating East Coast and Midwest racists, I have learned that apparently, I really do "look Chinese." Sigh.
Picture a little girl, about 6 years old, supposedly. It's hard to believe that can be accurate, since she is so small stepping off the plane that has just brought her from Korea to New York's bustling airport (Kennedy or LaGuardia? I'm not sure)
Two people are waiting for her--both Caucasian. One is a plump middle-aged woman, with curly brown hair in a styled hairdo--freshened up at the salon she visits every week. The other is a tall thin man, and the little girl has to crane her neck to see his face. They both embrace her, taking her from the greeter who relieved the chaperone that flew across the Pacific Ocean with her to bring her to her new family. This will be the last time for a while that she will be able to speak to anyone, as she does not yet understand any English words. The small bag that was packed for her by the orphanage was lost somewhere along the flight. All she has is the clothing she is wearing, which include rubber shoes (kudus) that are too big, held on her feet by rubber bands. She is clutching the papers she drew on to occupy her during the flight. The lines make no sense to her new parents, since they are the beginnings of hangul, Korean writing. No loops or curves are visible as you would see in Roman letters.
She is not even wearing a winter coat, and it is February in New York. There is snow outside. The parents bundle her up with their own jackets, and head home--it will be a 90 minute drive at least.. Traffic can be bad. They stop at a store to buy her a warm coat. The first one they have her try on is much too large--her hands are lost inside the sleeves. When they gesture to her to take it off (they speak no Korean, she speaks no English), she wraps her arms tightly around herself and shakes her head "No." It might be the first new coat she's ever touched. They buy another coat in a smaller size, along with the much-too-large coat she refused to take off, and get back in the car.
On the way home, they stop to visit a close friend, who has followed the adoption saga from its early days, when the couple had miscarriage after miscarriage. Aunt Mary, as she will become known, remembers when the thought of adopting from Korea first germinated in the mother's mind. It was during a time of despair, after breast cancer had ravaged her body, and hopes for a baby with her husband were dashed again and again. One baby was lost on her husband's birthday.
They had looked into adoption, but the mother's cancer and the father's lifelong history of diabetes made them unpopular applicants. One agency was cruel enough to hint they shouldn't adopt a baby, since they would not live long enough to raise it.
Just as she was starting to think God was telling them to be satisfied with the two sons from her first marriage, she saw a table somewhere advertising international adoption. Hope grew again. Her husband, and her teenage sons were supportive. They filled in the paperwork, underwent more home studies, and waited for a match. They had requested an infant.
The day the papers arrived, the photo looked like a newborn--no hair on her head at all. Reading further, they realized the dossier was not for a baby, but a 5-year old girl! Her eyes were downcast, and no smile in any of the photos. Despite the age mismatch, the mother decided this child must be her daughter. She had lost her father in the hospital only that morning, and this was a sign that this child would help fill the empty space in her heart.
Aunt Mary knew about all that. And she remembered when this child was supposed to arrive at Thanksgiving. But something happened with the paperwork, so she was delayed a few weeks to December. Then she was going to be home by Christmas. Only the girl got sick--caught the measles, or chicken pox or something that should have been prevented with immunizations as a baby. Anyway, she was finally here, months after she had been expected.
The 3 walked into the house, took off their coats, and shared the warm glow of family, friends, and love. When it was time to leave, the girl panicked. She thought she was finally home, and now these 2 people who had taken her from the airport were holding her coat out to her--they were taking her back to the airport! She was so upset, she screamed, cried, flailed around, refusing to put on the coat she had earlier refused to take off in the store. There was no common language to explain to her that she was not being sent back to Korea.
When they finally got her in the car, they drove to their real home. There was a giant dog that greeted them noisily, frightening the girl into the living room...where she saw something very odd. There was a tree in the house, decorated with lights and other objects, and a pile of presents underneath.
At the encouragement of her new parents, she picked out one small box and opened it. Inside was a bracelet, gold in color, with a small chain and clasp. She put it on right away, and looked longingly at the other presents. Apparently these would be opened the next day. It was time for bed.
Even though I arrived from Korea in February, my parents kept the tree up until I finally came home. Fortunately, it was an artificial tree, so there was no fire hazard. While I don't remember much of the trip "home", I do remember the dog, and the tree quite vividly. I still have that bracelet. This was my first Christmas in the US--possibly my first ever.
Not only am I feeling crushed by the usual holiday stress, and the cookie (almost) debacle of last week, but it is also suddenly persimmon season! This is a good thing (I keep reminding myself), as I find myself blessed with fruit from a friend's tree.
I will blog tomorrow about the drying process, which has me busy during my waking hours, using my dehydrator to preserve this seasonal bounty. I had almost given up on it this year, except Teddy asked me if I was planning to dry any persimmons? I am the most avid persimmon fan in the house, and it helps motivate me when Teddy reminds me that he likes them too. Especially the dried ones.
Today, I want to share with you all why I am particularly fond of persimmons--especially the much-maligned Hachiya variety. These pointy- bottomed fruit are not ripe until they are completely mushy. The unaware would easily think they had spoiled. This link has a clear photo if you scroll down. I totally understand how some people can be turned off by it. I am the only one in my family who can tolerate hachiya's mushy ripe texture--but I LOVE it.
I grew up on the East Coast, and I never saw a single persimmon growing up. I introduced my brother and his wife to the fuyu persimmon (eat when firm, like an apple) just this year when I was visiting. We had to go to a special Asian grocery, as they were not available in the regular stores where they live. (Gotta love California--the supermarkets have EVERYTHING here, and always so fresh! Purple potatoes? Got it. Cactus fruits? Right over here. Jicama, arugula, vegetables I'd never heard of or seen before are common everyday items here. We are so spoiled!)
When I was in Korea (back in my college days), my host family bought some mushy ripe hachiyas off a street vendor, and offered me one. I looked at the fruit, which appeared to be rotting, frankly, and had no idea what to do with it. I am usually not that adventurous with new foods, but I didn't want to offend them, so I copied their movement. Holding the stem side down, we split the mushy bottom with our thumbs to separate into 4 gooey pieces, which we placed in a bowl. We then took one section, and ate the soft innards, leaving the outer skin intact. As I bit into the soft fruit, I was overwhelmed by 2 impressions:
This fruit was INCREDIBLY sweet, and
I have had this before!!
It had been 16 years since I had left Korea as a 6-year old heading for my adoptive family. During those formative years, I am quite certain I was never within 10 miles of a ripe hachiya persimmon. And yet, eating that fruit in Seoul with my friend, I knew for certain that it had been a favorite food when I was under 6-years old. At the time, I was totally blown away by this experience, and eager for more "sense" memories to reconnect me to my roots. Retelling the story now, I am getting teary-eyed.
I had as much fun at this second Kimchee Mamas Meetup as I did the first one. Maybe even more, since I was more relaxed. Having met some of my dinner companions last time, there was less to be anxious about.
I was not the first one there this time, but didn't think to introduce myself to the 2 gals sitting at the big empty table. I thought we might have a reservation, or a separate room, so I sat waiting for Glennia to show up instead. Silly me--Jodie and Sun were already there!
Dinner was very good. Secret Garden was nicer inside than I remember from when I had dinner there 10 years ago. Though I must admit, the absence of mandu and borey cha (barley tea) was a little disappointing.
So who all was there?
Sun--a self-described blog lurker
Jodie, a newcomer to Kimchee Mamas, who may have a blog of her own soon if she finds the time.
Glennia, who got us all organized. Her blog is The Silent I.
Stefania, who knows my friend Mir from BlogHer. Stefania's blog is found at www.citymama.com.
The table was smaller this time, so we were able to share conversation a little more easily--everyone could hear everyone else. Very cozy.
After dinner, we went to a nearby frozen yogurt bar: Honeyberry for dessert. I guess this is some kind of spinoff of Pinkberry, but I had never heard of either. Inside was a gelato station, followed by fruity soft-serve, and additional toppings. The cup you get to start with is intimidatingly large (soup bowl size!), but I was assured that I did not actually have to fill up the entire bowl. You pay by the weight of your cup when you are done filling in. We ranged from $2 to $5 in our group.
The toppings were interesting...very Asian style, with mini-mochi, bean sauce, and other sweets. I tried the mini-mochi, which was very good! I will try to be more adventurous next time.
Of course, it would not be a Kimchee Mamas Meetup without the completely optional Noraebang Karaoke to end the evening. Here is a group shot (I'm behind the camera, heh).
As before, Mary was our rock star--belting out a lot of lyrics to get high scores on the karaoke scale. I looked for Indigo Girls songs again, but no luck. I resorted to Billy Joel's My Life and Piano Man. I knew when I was tempted to start entering Phil Collins songs that it was time for me to go home before I really embarrassed myself!
Stefania was our next singer, impressing us all with lyrics in Italian that she actually understood. Jodie and Glennia both sang as well. Jodie was a little more adventurous...or unlucky, ending up singing a couple of songs alone since the rest of us did not know them. Glennia (whom I am not forgetting this time!) was a great sport, jumping in with most of us when we needed a backup singer. We even got Sun to sing along by plugging in the Korean children's song, "San Toki", which translates to "Mountain Rabbit." Overall, this was less stressful than last time, which was my first trip ever to a noraebang.
It was a fun evening, but I have to work this weekend getting ready to teach a new class, so I left early. We'll have to wait and see from the comments, or other blog postings, what these gals got up to after I left. So, when's our next Meet-Up?
Welcome to the new site, folks! Please remember to bookmark this page or follow, or however you were tracking the posts on the other site. This is the new home for my blog. Looks the same, right?
So, what happened at the NoraeBang, (translation = "song room") anyway? Mary persuaded 4 of us to go with her to the Korean Karaoke place across the street. I'd never been to one of these before--so I was interested to see that instead of being in a smoke filled bar, like the Acapulco Lounge in Santa Clara, we got to rent a private room with a TV and karaoke machine. There is a window into the hallway, and video cameras to the front desk, but the only people to hear us singing would be us.
I believe the singers in attendance were Mary, Twizzle, Karen the Californian, Julie, and myself. Click here to read about the dinner that preceded this escapade.
They did not offer us any drinks, not even water or soda. Seems like the kind of place where booze would be called for, and a lot of it! Not a drop in sight.
Now, I am not musically inclined. At all. This was a major source of stress for me in high school, when your entire social strata can be defined by what kind of music you like. I liked country, because my parents and brother listened to that. My tape player was one of those cheap shoebox dictaphone types they used in elementary school for read-aloud books. Not exactly high fidelity sound there. One blessing was that country music was actually cool when I was a teenager, so much so, that the "real" country musicians even wrote an anthem , "I was country, when country wasn't cool"
I remember one traumatic outing when we were on a field trip, or class picnic, or something. A teacher made some sentimental speech, and all the students started singing the song, "Up Where We Belong", and I had NO IDEA what the song was or the words or tune or anything. I felt like an idiot trying to pretend and lipsynching along with everyone. Of course, the people closest to me knew I wasn't singing...but hey, it's just like church today. Unfortunately, this all plugged into feelings of being an outsider that I felt my whole childhood. As the only Asian in my mostly white graduating class, and one of the few minorities in the school, I wanted to "fit in" just as desperately as most teenagers do. My race precluded that, and music was one of the areas where I felt out of place most acutely. I had found my nerd friends by junior high, but every teenager spoke music--except for me.
So, decades later, here I am with a bunch of women whom I have only just met, and I am feeling a little stressed out. I don't sing well, have a poor sense of pitch, and these ladies were NOT drinking at dinner, so no cover there!
As we flip through the book looking for songs, they are organized by song title, not artist. We put aside the Korean songlist, which was a relief, since the only Korean songs I know are "San Toki" (kids' song) and the Korean national anthem, "Arirang".
Already stressed out from the pressure of having to sing in front of people I have just met, I suddenly cannot remember a single title of any Indigo Girls song. These are the gals I have on CD in my car, and I am most likely to sing along to, and actually know the melody and words. I keep flipping frantically--no luck. OK, how about Billy Joel--fellow New Yorker, I should be able to sing to him, right? Again--my mind had blanked and I can't remember a single song title--nada. Alzheimer's had kicked in early...by luck I stumble across Piano Man. But I can't remember the tune or how the words go!
I am frantically trying to remember ANY artist, ANY song that I can sing--the selections the other gals are making are not songs I know, and I am having flashbacks to high school! My lipsynching trick is probably not going to work in a small room of 5 of us sitting right next to each other! While I did see some Kenny Rogers songs in the book, it has been decades since the 80's, and I wasn't so sure country was still cool anymore.
In desperation, I plugged in Huey Lewis's "Heart of Rock and Roll"
and Chris de Burgh's "Lady in Red"
Mary and Karen had done such a great job on the previous songs, that I almost thought there was some vocal soundtrack that I could sing on top of...but no, when the songs I had chosen came up, I missed a few bars while waiting for someone else to start singing. Once I did start singing, well, let's just say it's a good thing Karen was a music major in college, and she is a great sport too. Phew. I hope they couldn't tell how much I was sweating from embarrassment.
I suddenly had much greater empathy for poor DH, who had chosen to sing to me at our wedding. He got the bright idea after attending his friend's wedding and seeing him serenade his bride. Only thing was...his friend had his groomsmen back him up. DH got a friend to play guitar for him, but he was the only one singing at our wedding. My little brother was supposed to do a reading just before the song, but he got all emotional and started all of us crying instead (and that is a story for another day...since I am seeing him soon, I will not tell it now out of self-preservation). DH then stood to sing to me, and I had tears running down my face, and he got all emotional too... and well...it was sweet that he tried, anyway. I can't say I have been kind over the years when we reminisce about that part of the ceremony...but I usually stop laughing when he glares at me.
I understand our November Meet-Up is also going to be situated near a NoraeBang as well. I wonder if I can sneak my son's MP3 player in my purse...
At the speed with which I am cranking out these posts, I should be done by the time we organize our NEXT Meet-up--in November!
Work is looming large, and while I am on target to hit all my MBO goals, it's been a lot of late nights and working weekends to get there. Not much "me" time this month, which translates to not much time for you, my blogging audience. I am sure all dozen of you are waiting with bated breath for the next Kimchi Mamas Meet-Up post! (9 of you were there with me!)
My first impression of the NorCal Kimchi Mamas group? Well, first off, we really put the "Mamas" in the Kimchi Mamas. If I kept count right, there were 3 pregnant moms, 2 of whom are in their 9th month. And 2 moms of nursing newborns. 2 Moms brought their daughters with them, and one brought her accommodating husband along so as to have both family time and Kimchi Mamas time. Now *that* is efficient use of time. The poor man had no idea the conversation immediately flipped to discussion of vaginas whenever he left the table.
Some of us (ahem) were more experienced Mamas, with older children, but we all connected pretty easily. No loudmouths in the group (I was on my best behavior). We all had made some effort on appearance, though none of us was polished enough to go grocery shopping at a typical Korean grocery store. You can tell the "real" Koreans from us Americanized versions by the high heels--YES, for getting groceries. In that context, the pink parking spaces in downtown Seoul do make a warped kind of sense after all.
The Meet-Up was at Sahn Maru in Oakland, which I learned had been reviewed on the KQED show, "Check, Please!". Our organizer, Mary Choi, in all her pregnant glory, is even ON the show--watch here. It is a good review of the restaurant. I would definitely go back again.
We did think it was odd they did not mention the buttock sculptures hanging on one wall of the restaurant...it was an interesting piece of...well...art. Yeah. If you want to see OUR feast, click here. Following are short descriptions of who I met that dinner--the introductions were funny as we gave our actual names, then had to explain our online identities as well.
Mary Choi, our organizer--I pronounced her name "Choy" when I came in, the host clarified it to the Korean pronunciation "Chey"...it brought me right back to Seoul. Mary is lively, funny, mother to a newborn (why does she still have so much energy)? And persuaded several of us to go to karaoke with her after...more on that in my next post. Read her at:
"Twizzle" - one of our founders--I sat too far away from her during dinner, but she did sing with us at Karaoke, so that tells you something. Not sure what, but something. I hope to get to know her better in the future. Read her at:
Eleanna: blog reader (Thank Goodness we have some!)--again, other end of the table--though she did share a funny story about her name and people mispronouncing it as she was growing up. Eleanna not being a typical Korean name, in case you couldn't tell.
Karen the Californian--new Mama--I sat next to her at dinner and at karaoke. She looked great, except for the flip-flops. Definitely no pink parking spaces for her! Read her at: http://karenthecalifornian.blogspot.com
Julie Kang, the one I had read the most, of course ended up completely at the other end of the table from me. At least she did come to karaoke, so we got to hear her pipes. She also posted a picture of me in her blog, but I won't tell you which one is me. Read her at: http://geishaschooldropout.com
Shinyung Oh - I had already read some of her excellent posts--her journey to motherhood is chronicled here: http://shinyungoh.blogspot.com/
Glennia -- we sat too far away--it was a looong table. She writes a travel blog, and that makes me jealous, since I love to travel but have not had time or $ since having kids. Sigh. Glennia may also have been the only one of us to go to BlogHer, but I might have that wrong. @glennia on Twitter Personal/Family Travel Blog: The Silent I: http://glenniacampbell.typepad.com Political Blog: MOMocrats: http://momocrats.typepad.com
Min Jung brought her very quiet, well behaved baby to the dinner, and told us about Captain Poong Poong, a "magical farting children's program hero in Korean" to quote her Twitter feed. Not being one to shy away from body talk, I noticed she posted this very funny, poignant, and completely accurate post about the relationship between a baby and a nursing mother. Or, I should say, a baby and her mother's boob. Mom's really just there as a bonus.
Eingy -- One of the new moms, Eingy sat across from me. She was very nice, and said some clever things, but I've taken so long writing this post, I can't remember details anymore. She has written a very good post on interpersonal communications. You know, the stuff you wish you could staple to someone's forehead when they just don't "get it." (Ooops, that might be my PMS hormones talking there...don't mind me)
So, lots of sharing, lots of laughing, not nearly as much vagina talk as one woman's husband thought there would be, and hopefully, the start of some long friendships.
Next post, sometime before the end of the year...Karaoke. Yes, dear readers, I sang. If you can call it that...
I can't believe it has been a whole week since my last post--school has begun, which mean Cub Scouts is organizing, and so is the annual Cub Scout Popcorn Sale. If anyone in the SF South Bay wants some, let me know, I would be happy to deliver!
In the meantime, end of quarter is coming, work is piling up on top of my evenings and weekends, and I've just been plain old BUSY.
Not that this stopped me from meeting up with out-of-town friends when I get the chance! The Kimchi Mamas Blog group had a Northern California Meet-up, which I attended, and I am GLAD I did! If you want to see pictures of the AWESOME food we ate while we bonded, click here.
I'd been looking forward to this for a while, ever since it was proposed weeks ago. I have been reading the blog for months, and even started reading a few of the affiliated blogs, like Julie Kang's Geisha School Dropout. I found her through her hilarious post on Kimchi Mamas, and discovered a really humorous, witty voice.
As I left the house for the hour long drive to the designated restaurant, I ran through a mental checklist of preparations:
Shower, hair, & make-up? Check
Clothing: nice enough to look like I cared, but not like I was trying too hard? Check
Shaved pits, legs below the knee? Check
Brushed teeth? ooops, not since the morning...but hey, we were going to be eating kimchi, who would notice?
Energy level? doing OK...DH made me some coffee to perk me up on the road...I think I'll keep him.
Friendly, open attitude? Check
Ready to meet some new people? As an extrovert, GOD, Yes!!
OK, so setting aside the pressure of being charming and witty to a bunch of gals I've never met before, but who I think I kind of know a little bit from stalking...er...reading their blogs, I started to wonder what the dinner would be like.
A table full of a dozen bloggers...several scenarios came to mind:
We might be loud and boisterous. Some of the Mamas write brash personas, I read "balls to the walls" in one post. Would we all be loud egotists (blogging requires some narcissism), each person trying to top the next in funny stories? And where would I fit in? I can certainly be loud, and know how to verbally elbow my way into a conversation to grab some spotlight if I feel like it. Would I be the loudest? Funniest? Or would I say something really stupid, insensitive, or just weird? Would the person sitting next to me move her chair closer or further away as the evening progressed?
We might be really intellectual. We are mostly writers (and some readers) after all--we must be a wordy bunch.
They might all be way more Korean than me. I think I was the only adoptee that responded to the invite, so everyone at the table would have a more authentic Korean upbringing than I do. Korean parents, perhaps even Korean in-laws. While I have lived in Korea for a year as a language student, my childhood was pretty white. I thought I had immersed myself in enough Korean culture that I would fit in fine--some yellow dye for the twinkie/banana inside, but there are certainly cultural parts of raising a Korean child in the US, that my Irish/Newfie upbringing did not impart to me.
I pulled up at the address, 25 minutes early, and looked around. It did not look that impressive from the outside. I waited, and waited. By 5 minutes to the hour, still alone, I suddenly realized they might all be on "Korean time." Just as I was thinking that, the first couple of arrivals showed up. Whew. I went in to join them at the long table, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a very nice restaurant once inside.
More about who I met, and why I had a wonderful time, in my next post. Soon, I promise!
