Tag: food

My Time in Western Europe

The summer before eighth grade, I had the opportunity to go on an ambassador program to Western Europe. It was a very wonderful trip, and to be honest, I think now that I am older and have gained more life experience, I would probably be able to deal with it differently than I did when I was thirteen. I will say that going to another country is a humbling experience, because it’s one thing to read about a country, but when you actually get there it’s a new experience. It was my first time leaving the United States and I was travelling with a group of people. We had an orientation session at a church building/ school and got to know each other. I wasn’t seeing a therapist during that time, so I don’t know if I had depression, generalized anxiety disorder or social anxiety, but all I remember is that I was a very moody teenager during that time and I brought that moody teenage energy with me on this trip. But looking back, I have so much more appreciation for it than I did when I was actually on the trip. We went to quite a few places within a span of three weeks, which I found out goes by pretty quickly. We first went to Ireland, and visited a few places: Trinity College in Dublin, Sneem, and Killarney being a few. We got to visit a storyteller who told this poignant story about something having to do with birds. We also rode boats on this large body of pristine-looking water (I’m pretty sure it was Killarney because I remember a postcard that said “Greetings from Killarney.”) It was beautiful being on that body of water because it just seemed so clean and peaceful. We stayed at a Day Inn in Dublin, and I remember eating fish and chips for dinner. On the plane ride, we experienced a lot of turbulence and I sat next to a young woman who I didn’t feel like talking to for some reason, probably because I was so moody and pubescent that I hated just about everyone I came across during that time. We also went to Brussels, and it was an interesting experience because there was a statue of a naked kid urinating, and it was called Manneken Pis. I was immature at the time, and like the other kids I thought it was hilarious and couldn’t stop giggling. I was also probably taken aback a little because where I grew up, you don’t just see statues of little boys urinating in fountains. We went to a chocolate shop and watched a video about how cacao beans were harvested and how they made the chocolate in the shop. I remember this was one of my favorite parts of the trip because I love chocolate, and so I bought milk chocolate and white chocolate. While I was browsing the store, I accidentally bumped into a porcelain vase that held umbrellas, and I broke it. Being someone who apologized a LOT (it is something I am still working on doing less of) I remember feeling really terrible about knocking over the vase and I’m pretty sure I called myself an “idiot” and “stupid” too, because those were names I also loved to call myself for some reason, but the shop owner was very sweet about it and he told me simply, “It’s ok. Just don’t do it next time.” Because I was so hard on myself at the time, I thought I was never going to live down the day when I knocked over a porcelain vase at a chocolate shop in Belgium, but I can happily say that I did live it down and have made lots of other mistakes since then.

I remember one thing I struggled with while on the trip was chronic lateness. Every activity that we had, I was always running late to. I don’t remember if I was chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo or doing gongyo on the trip, but looking back I think it would have helped me elevate my life condition because I was so negative all the time about everything. When I chant I feel better and more centered, so that’s why I try to do it every day. I still experience challenges like everyone else, but when I practice Buddhism it helps me see situations differently and helps me tap into the wisdom I need to take the right action. I remember being late quite a few times, one time being when we were at a cemetery commemorating the death of soldiers during D-Day. I was roaming through the cemetery, paying my respects, feeling the heaviness of so much loss. It was raining, and I hadn’t noticed that I was the only participant who hadn’t gotten back on the bus.

“There you are!” an angry voice shouted. I turned. It was Blake (name changed to protect privacy), one of the chaperones on the trip.

“You’re late!” he shouted.

I panicked and hurried back with him to the bus.

“I am?” I asked.

“Ohhhhh yeah,” he said, running out of breath as we rushed back to the bus.

When I got on the bus, I started apologizing and calling myself all sorts of negative names and crying my eyes out because I’m sensitive and often would get my feelings hurt if someone yelled at me. Some people had to use gentle words with me to calm me down. I acted like the world was going to end because I was late rather than taking responsibility for my mistake and simply resolving to do better next time. I remember at one point Rachel, the main guide for the duration of the program, had to limit my time in the gift shop because if I stayed the full ten minutes like everyone else, I was going to be late coming back on the bus.

“Everyone you have ten minutes to shop around.”

She turned to me.

“You have SIX minutes,” she said, knowing I was the late one in the group.

I got back on the bus in time, but man, I was panicking while figuring out what souvenir to pick because six minutes goes by fast. I’m not even sure if I was happy with what I got.

I remember we were in Wales, and I woke up late and found my roommate was already lugging her suitcase out of the room.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

I hurried downstairs. I hope I make it in time for breakfast, I thought.

I got down and was able to grab some oatmeal. But by the time I got downstairs to the eating area, everyone had finished eating and was getting ready to leave in a few minutes. I looked at my friend’s plate. She was eating baked beans and toast, which is what I wanted, too. But I was too late to order one.

“Wait, they had beans and toast?” I asked her incredulously. I was so jealous of her because the beans and toast was so good.

“Yes…” she looked at me, confused.

“But I didn’t get any!” I complained.

“Well, if you hadn’t been late, then you would have gotten beans and toast,” she shrugged, and continued to enjoy the beans and toast on her plate.

I was very disgruntled.

Looking back, this entire program was a great learning experience. I could say I had regrets, like, “I wish I wasn’t such a Negative Nancy during the trip” or “If I had just lightened up more, people would have liked me” or “If I had been on time, I would have made time to enjoy everything on the trip.” But looking back, I’m glad I went on this trip not just because Europe was so much fun, but because it was full of challenges, and I needed to grow from these challenges. I also loved that our tour guide had this really awesome playlist she would play while we were touring the different cities. I hadn’t heard about The Kooks until listening to a few of the songs on her playlist, so after the trip I ended up putting a lot of songs by The Kooks on my iPod. And a couple of the songs we heard on the playlist was “Crazy” and “Smiley Faces” by Gnarls Barkley. After listening to those songs, Gnarls Barkley became one of my favorite music groups to listen to.

To be continued…

A Funny Little Love Affair with Southern Cooking

Currently I am reading a novel by Donna Tartt called The Little Friend. It came out in 2002 and honestly I have trying to read this novel for a while. Mainly because the cover looked really intriguing, so haunting and mysterious. It shows a close-up of an old-style-looking doll whose eye is looking to the side in a worried expression. The novel is about a young woman named Harriet who is still grappling with the death of her brother, Robin, after he was found hanging dead from a tree when he was a child. Harriet asks around about his murder but no one seems to know what to tell her. The novel takes place in Mississippi in the 1970s, and as I was reading it for some reason the idea of Southern cooking came up. It is totally random, but I kept thinking about Southern cooking, and it reminded me of Paula Deen. As a child I loved watching Paula Deen’s cooking on the Food Network. She had this one recipe I was obsessed with called Not Your Mama’s Banana Pudding, and in my pre-vegan days I craved some of this banana pudding. I was quite fortunate a few years down the road to have joined a volunteer orchestra because one of the moms of the participants sold this delicious banana pudding in these tubs. It was a delicious creamy yellow mixture of banana pudding, topped with Nilla wafers and whipped cream, that had me craving at least ten tubs if I had my druthers and could buy all the banana pudding in the world. It was pure goodness, and of course my poor vegan stomach couldn’t stomach that delicious dish anymore, but when I had it it felt like serious Southern comfort food. Also watching Paula Deen making doughnuts in the Dutch oven was a treat. I then begged my parents if I could make doughnuts in the Dutch oven. I can’t remember if I even went through with that plan, but it was a great idea while it lasted.

And in all honesty my vegan ass still loves the smell of Southern fried chicken and other Southern foods. Even if I can’t eat them. Hearing the sizzle of the drumsticks as they hit the deep fryer, tasting the key lime pie in that little Flying Fish diner in Arkansas as I paused to make room for my stomach, that fried catfish po’boy dunked in tartar sauce digesting itself in my stomach. Smelling that spicy sizzle of steaming crayfish piled high atop a mountain of butter-drenched corn-on-the-cob. At least I still can eat things like grits, cornbread and collard greens. You can never go wrong with those. And I love to put maple syrup on my grits, and vegan butter. I used to put veggie sausages but then I found out that the veggie sausages had egg whites in them, so I stopped eating them. My favorite Southern favorite? Eggs and biscuits. Of course, it’s not an exclusive Southern favorite because plenty of people in the West, East, and North eat eggs and biscuits, but somehow it just always made me feel Southern.

Of course, overtime and after a much-needed continuous education about racism and antebellum slavery (sorry, Paula Deen), I have had to reform my love affair for Southern food and the South. But even with my reforming education and changing perspective I still savor the delectable creaminess of piping hot 20-minute Quaker grits on a Sunday morning, rivers of melted butter and sugary maple syrup traversing those mountains of white hominy. I still love a good vegan version of country fried steak at the vegan diner in Chicago. I still chow down on collard greens and fluffy cornbread even without the eggs in it. I’m just gonna try to be more woke while I eat them.