Even having been halfway raised in the Midwest and growing up in a Filipino household, my exposure to different cuisines was rather limited in retrospect. Of course, I didn't think so at the time; I proudly invited my friends to dinner and scooped traditional dishes like adobo and pancit onto their plates. At the same time I thought nothing of eating whatever was put on my plate at my friends' dinner tables, and heartily plowed through bowls of food when we ate at Chinese restaurants. Looking back though I realize that I'd been playing it safe (sweet and sour chicken isn't exactly the pinnacle of Chinese cuisine) and was sorely missing out.
Through out my formative years I'd definitely heard of sushi, but it had always remained an exotic, mysterious dish that I really had no interest in exploring. All I knew about it was that it was raw fish (OMG!!!) and that was the end of that. We don't really have a Filipino equivalent -- although some of our more culturally-traditional dishes probably come pretty close with the ewww factor to the uninitiated. But that didn't matter; I had no plans on trying raw fish and was happy with what I was already eating.
I took my first bite of sushi during a Spring Break road trip to the West Coast. One of the highlights was going to dinner with a large group of friends to a sushi restaurant in LA. It may have been the beer we'd been drinking at alarming rates but I was game to try. Someone ordered for me and my other sushi-virgin friends, and after a while dinner came out, artfully presented on square plates.
The food we'd ordered were mostly different types of roll. I tried some of everything, and enjoyed all of it. It was hard to keep track of what was in each roll but they were all delicious, a tasty blend of flavors built upon the rice/seaweed base. I distinctly remember devouring a particular piece, then turning to a friend and asking him what I'd just eaten. "Eel," he said.
[Pause.] "Eel?" I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.
"Yeah -- like, uh, an eel."
[Another pause.] "Okay." And I reached for another piece.
After that eye-opening experience, I was more eager to graduate to eating sashimi (the actual raw subset of food under the sushi umbrella) and surprised myself with more incredible flavors and textures. That first experience was over ten years ago and I haven't looked back since. Now I look for sushi restaurants whenever I have the chance (and the funds). Hell, I'll even run to Hy-Vee and buy some pre-made rolls to go when I'm really craving it. Of course it's not nearly as good as going to a restaurant and ordering something on the spot, but most of the time it's close enough. I actually did this last week; I walked to the checkout with a package containing two kinds of surimi rolls.
The cashier, an older gentleman, rang up the package. "Are these really that good?" he asked. "People buy a lot of these but I've never tried it."
I ended up talking with him for a minute or so, trying to convince him to buy some and just try it. After all, "Even if you end up not liking it," I reasoned, "At least you'll know you don't like it. But who knows, you could end up loving it. Anyway I think it's delicious." I hope he agreed with me, and maybe I've created a new sushi convert.
That would be sweet.
It's funny 'cause nowadays when someone mentions a food or cuisine that I've never had before, the first things out of my mouth are "Where's the restaurant?" and "When are we going?"
I've learned my lesson. Life's too short, man. Try it all -- at least you'll know.
Showing posts with label asian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asian. Show all posts
25 August 2010
04 August 2010
Beats From The East.
Last Saturday I was a guest on CJLO's Beats From The East radio show, based out of Montreal and hosted by DJ Mister Vee. The 2-hour program highlights "the best urban music (Soul, RnB, Hip-Hop, Funk, Electro, Acid Jazz, Reggae...yes, Asian-Reggae exists!) from Far-East Asian communities worldwide." Mister Vee had gotten hold of our album Pacific Central and wanted a live interview with Reggie and me; unfortunately R'SENULL already had plans for that evening and so it was left to me to hold it down.
CJLO Beats From The East
Mister Vee also had a guest in the studio, an upcoming French artist named Océane who was part of a band that covered K-Pop songs. He interviewed her in between tracks, and towards the end of the first hour spun "Grown Past That" to segue into the interview. As the song played, he called me on the phone (off the air) and we talked for a couple of minutes. As the song ended, he gave a pretty nice introduction -- mentioning us alongside Blue Scholars no less. Haha, dope.
For the 20+ minutes I was on the air, I think I did a good job fielding questions. Topics ranged from Seattle sports, to the state of the music industry, to the origins of J-Pros. I did enjoy answering questions about our music-writing process, as it definitely had been an interesting challenge to collaborate and successfully complete an entire album while Reggie and I lived in different time zones. I capped the interview off with an exclusive freestyle that I'd written earlier in the day. (I believe I stumbled a little in the beginning but a few bars later I hit my stride. Cut me some slack -- I haven't performed in a long time haha)
You can listen to the entire podcast here, or go straight to my interview here.
Overall, I had a great time. Mister Vee was an excellent host, and J-Pros definitely appreciates the shine we got on the show! (Not to mention the numerous mentions on Facebook, Twitter and the CJLO website.) Beats From The East has earned itself a new listener, and maybe we can build and off this new friendship. Mike: Thanks again for hosting me! Let us know if you're ever in Seattle! One love.
CJLO Beats From The East
Mister Vee also had a guest in the studio, an upcoming French artist named Océane who was part of a band that covered K-Pop songs. He interviewed her in between tracks, and towards the end of the first hour spun "Grown Past That" to segue into the interview. As the song played, he called me on the phone (off the air) and we talked for a couple of minutes. As the song ended, he gave a pretty nice introduction -- mentioning us alongside Blue Scholars no less. Haha, dope.
For the 20+ minutes I was on the air, I think I did a good job fielding questions. Topics ranged from Seattle sports, to the state of the music industry, to the origins of J-Pros. I did enjoy answering questions about our music-writing process, as it definitely had been an interesting challenge to collaborate and successfully complete an entire album while Reggie and I lived in different time zones. I capped the interview off with an exclusive freestyle that I'd written earlier in the day. (I believe I stumbled a little in the beginning but a few bars later I hit my stride. Cut me some slack -- I haven't performed in a long time haha)
You can listen to the entire podcast here, or go straight to my interview here.
Overall, I had a great time. Mister Vee was an excellent host, and J-Pros definitely appreciates the shine we got on the show! (Not to mention the numerous mentions on Facebook, Twitter and the CJLO website.) Beats From The East has earned itself a new listener, and maybe we can build and off this new friendship. Mike: Thanks again for hosting me! Let us know if you're ever in Seattle! One love.
26 January 2010
Kc Nhhya C Nnay.
This past weekend, my mom got an email from a younger family friend back in the Philippines and called me over because she was having some trouble deciphering it. At first I was puzzled as to why she'd ever need me to do that, but it became pretty apparent. She laughed when she saw me try to read it:
This is obviously text-speak*. I'd seen it in extremely small doses here in the States, but this is straight from the source! Almost every single word is abbreviated or chopped up. In an effort to decode the syntax:
*I have a hunch lots of Tagalog-speaking Twitter members probably tweet like this too. I dunno, I'll have to check.
ateOh man.
susan
svi poh ni nny
pasencia
na poh kc hind poh cia mksgot agad kc my alga xiang bata 8 mnts
ngyn poh pde dw poh kc aalgaan dw poh mna nung aswa ng kua qoh
tta susan svu n nny
sna dw poh mgksma clang dlwa n ate mariet
kc nhhya c nnay................
pkzvi nlng poh kung kailan,,,,,,,,,,,,
thnks
ngtz poh alwys,,,,,,,,,,,,,
This is obviously text-speak*. I'd seen it in extremely small doses here in the States, but this is straight from the source! Almost every single word is abbreviated or chopped up. In an effort to decode the syntax:
- the addition of an h at the end of po and qo (which is supposed to be spelled ko in the first place!): maybe to "round" out the word a little; Tagalog can sound sharp and jagged when it needs to be
- generally omitting as many a's as you can: this makes sense to me, since we use that particular letter very frequently
- replacing b with v, and si with c or xi: probably purely aesthetic; it definitely makes the language more colorful and -- dare I say it -- exotic
*I have a hunch lots of Tagalog-speaking Twitter members probably tweet like this too. I dunno, I'll have to check.
10 December 2009
Done With Exams.
Took my second and last final today, so I'M DONE for the semester!! The following video represents how I feel -- the player in blue = me, player in red = test:
I have one more week of clinicals left, but for now my brain can relax!
Ahhhhhhh.
I have one more week of clinicals left, but for now my brain can relax!
Ahhhhhhh.
04 November 2009
A Heady Mixture Of Religion, Community & Consumerism.
Here's a short essay I wrote for my English class earlier this fall. The goal was to describe a location to someone who hadn't been there before. My hope is that I did it justice.
The heat is the first thing one would notice. Actually, “notice” is too gentle of a word; the strength of the sun’s rays seems to beat everything into submission with a glaring sheen, smothering the entire courtyard with a breathless, oppressive force. Not even the feeble shade provided by the occasional banana plant provides much relief. It’s as if God Himself had opened a piping-hot oven in heaven.
The religious reference seems almost appropriate here, in the side Courtyard of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, a market district of Manila (“Quiapo Church”). It’s an expansive site, clean and wide, and open to the cloud-dotted sky. The church and its associated buildings form its northern and western walls; various shops and department stores topped with small, dingy apartments border the remaining sides. Telephone and power lines stretch and dangle overhead. Several statues of saints have been mounted in between the entrances to the church, hands upraised (Kaemena). It’s easy to imagine them welcoming you into the cool interior of the Basilica to seek protection from the blaze.
Despite this constant intense heat, thousands of churchgoers whisper their prayers and attend their novenas, then venture into the courtyard after Mass. It’s a perfect venue for street vendors. Arriving early in the morning while the courtyard is being swept clean, they set up shop. They hawk everything from flip-flops to fragrant wildflowers, from balloons to t-shirts, from fried fish to umbrellas. Needless to say, business is brisk as the courtyard is packed for most of the day. Children dash in and out of crowds and gather in groups, chattering about playing their next game of pick-up basketball. Elderly women in faded housedresses fan themselves under storefront awnings. Food vendors swat flies away from their sizzling kabobs, shouting the names of the food so that they can be heard above the din of the crowd. High school students stroll by laughing, backpacks slung across one shoulder and hoping to spot their friends. Young mothers hoist their toddlers higher up one arm and hang plastic shopping bags from the other. As if in celebration, every hour the church bells clang from their towers and add to the cacophony below.
The courtyard only gets busier in the afternoon as people leave their offices and fill the streets. If one pauses in the middle of the courtyard, closed your eyes and simply listened, one would catch snippets of English words and sentences interwoven with the Tagalog dialect predominant in this part of the Philippines. Potential buyers haggle comfortably and easily with vendors over the price of children’s sandals. Strains of American and Filipino pop music intermittently float down from the apartment windows above, or blare from passing vehicles idling in constant traffic the next street over. Melodic, seven-note car horns frequently interrupt conversations.
Accompanying the orchestra of street sounds bouncing off the church walls is an olfactory bonanza. The faintly sweet scent of sampaguita, a popular native blossom, pervades the air; the flower is thought to promote well-being and health (“Sampaguita”). Sampaguita strands hang around the necks and wrists of passers-by and churchgoers alike as they congregate around the portable food booths under large, inviting rainbow-colored umbrellas, from which rise the rich aromas of fried bananas, steamed peanuts, eggrolls, sweet potatoes, and fried fish covered in dipping sauce. It all makes for an extremely unique combination of mouth-watering smells.
There is also shopping to be done here. Two main avenues, leading out of the courtyard to the bustling city beyond, are lined with small clothing shops, fast food restaurants, larger department stores and tiny mom-and-pop grocery outlets. More often than not, these pedestrian streets are so completely packed with shoppers that the pavement below their feet is invisible (Kaemena). Even the stoops and storefront entrances are occupied with people taking up almost every available space. It seems as if the only other places to sit are inside the Basilica. The businesses found here in no way cater exclusively to the upper class; those boutique stores containing higher-end items are located in massive air-conditioned malls in other, wealthier districts of Metro Manila. No, the courtyard is where someone would go after church to buy a rubber doormat and undershirts, and then snack on a couple of quail eggs.
The courtyard of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene is one of the most ideal places to catch a glimpse of urban Filipino culture. The odd, heady mixture of religious devotion, community and consumerism finding a common denominator and packed tightly into one space is on full display here, and it is truly a wondrous experience to behold.
Quiapo Church Courtyard, Manila, Philippines.
The heat is the first thing one would notice. Actually, “notice” is too gentle of a word; the strength of the sun’s rays seems to beat everything into submission with a glaring sheen, smothering the entire courtyard with a breathless, oppressive force. Not even the feeble shade provided by the occasional banana plant provides much relief. It’s as if God Himself had opened a piping-hot oven in heaven.
The religious reference seems almost appropriate here, in the side Courtyard of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo, a market district of Manila (“Quiapo Church”). It’s an expansive site, clean and wide, and open to the cloud-dotted sky. The church and its associated buildings form its northern and western walls; various shops and department stores topped with small, dingy apartments border the remaining sides. Telephone and power lines stretch and dangle overhead. Several statues of saints have been mounted in between the entrances to the church, hands upraised (Kaemena). It’s easy to imagine them welcoming you into the cool interior of the Basilica to seek protection from the blaze.
Despite this constant intense heat, thousands of churchgoers whisper their prayers and attend their novenas, then venture into the courtyard after Mass. It’s a perfect venue for street vendors. Arriving early in the morning while the courtyard is being swept clean, they set up shop. They hawk everything from flip-flops to fragrant wildflowers, from balloons to t-shirts, from fried fish to umbrellas. Needless to say, business is brisk as the courtyard is packed for most of the day. Children dash in and out of crowds and gather in groups, chattering about playing their next game of pick-up basketball. Elderly women in faded housedresses fan themselves under storefront awnings. Food vendors swat flies away from their sizzling kabobs, shouting the names of the food so that they can be heard above the din of the crowd. High school students stroll by laughing, backpacks slung across one shoulder and hoping to spot their friends. Young mothers hoist their toddlers higher up one arm and hang plastic shopping bags from the other. As if in celebration, every hour the church bells clang from their towers and add to the cacophony below.
The courtyard only gets busier in the afternoon as people leave their offices and fill the streets. If one pauses in the middle of the courtyard, closed your eyes and simply listened, one would catch snippets of English words and sentences interwoven with the Tagalog dialect predominant in this part of the Philippines. Potential buyers haggle comfortably and easily with vendors over the price of children’s sandals. Strains of American and Filipino pop music intermittently float down from the apartment windows above, or blare from passing vehicles idling in constant traffic the next street over. Melodic, seven-note car horns frequently interrupt conversations.
Accompanying the orchestra of street sounds bouncing off the church walls is an olfactory bonanza. The faintly sweet scent of sampaguita, a popular native blossom, pervades the air; the flower is thought to promote well-being and health (“Sampaguita”). Sampaguita strands hang around the necks and wrists of passers-by and churchgoers alike as they congregate around the portable food booths under large, inviting rainbow-colored umbrellas, from which rise the rich aromas of fried bananas, steamed peanuts, eggrolls, sweet potatoes, and fried fish covered in dipping sauce. It all makes for an extremely unique combination of mouth-watering smells.
There is also shopping to be done here. Two main avenues, leading out of the courtyard to the bustling city beyond, are lined with small clothing shops, fast food restaurants, larger department stores and tiny mom-and-pop grocery outlets. More often than not, these pedestrian streets are so completely packed with shoppers that the pavement below their feet is invisible (Kaemena). Even the stoops and storefront entrances are occupied with people taking up almost every available space. It seems as if the only other places to sit are inside the Basilica. The businesses found here in no way cater exclusively to the upper class; those boutique stores containing higher-end items are located in massive air-conditioned malls in other, wealthier districts of Metro Manila. No, the courtyard is where someone would go after church to buy a rubber doormat and undershirts, and then snack on a couple of quail eggs.
The courtyard of the Minor Basilica of the Black Nazarene is one of the most ideal places to catch a glimpse of urban Filipino culture. The odd, heady mixture of religious devotion, community and consumerism finding a common denominator and packed tightly into one space is on full display here, and it is truly a wondrous experience to behold.
Works Cited.
- Kaemena, Willy. “Quiapo Church Panorama In Philippines.” 360 Cities. Web. Ed. Jeffrey Martin. 13 Sep 2009.
- “Quiapo Church.” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 28 June 2009. Web. 27 June 2009.
- “Sampaguita.” The Flower Expert. Web. 13 Sep 2009.
filed under
asian,
creative writing,
culture,
english,
philippines
12 October 2009
Retail Therapy 001: Dangoon | Funnel-Neck Zip Jacket.
I have never considered myself a shopaholic. Back when I was working full-time, I limited shopping to a couple of times a year and bought pieces mostly for the office. I do have to admit my greatest impulse buys were caps/hats (damn you, Urban Outfitter!!) but they are largely timeless, so I like to think of those as investments -- plus I can still rock 'em with no hesitation. So no, shopping wasn't really the addiction for me as it was for some of my friends.
Lately though, I have gotten the itch to buy something. I'm currently phasing out the baggier casual clothing I used to wear on a daily basis and replacing them with slimmer gear that actually fits better (yes Mom, you were right). Since the weather is definitely getting colder, I wanted some some new autumn outerwear, but didn't feel like rocking anything from the usual department stores found here in Kansas City. I turned to the Web.
I'd read about YesStyle a few weeks ago, so I decided to visit the site. Apparently they're the fashion arm for YesAsia, a huge site where you can buy Japanese/Chinese/Korean DVDs, electronics and music. I figured it might be cool to get some gear from overseas, and found this jacket from Dangoon, a South Korean fashion brand:
Dope silhouette. It's got "unusually cut side pockets, zipper hardware on the sleeves and body and a funnel neck with straps." Not your run-of-the-mill top. I really like the features, fabric and the cut so I'll give it a try. Since the order is being shipped from across the Pacific it'll take a couple of weeks to get here, but I'm thinking it'll be worth it. I'll post an update when I get it in the mail ...
Lately though, I have gotten the itch to buy something. I'm currently phasing out the baggier casual clothing I used to wear on a daily basis and replacing them with slimmer gear that actually fits better (yes Mom, you were right). Since the weather is definitely getting colder, I wanted some some new autumn outerwear, but didn't feel like rocking anything from the usual department stores found here in Kansas City. I turned to the Web.
I'd read about YesStyle a few weeks ago, so I decided to visit the site. Apparently they're the fashion arm for YesAsia, a huge site where you can buy Japanese/Chinese/Korean DVDs, electronics and music. I figured it might be cool to get some gear from overseas, and found this jacket from Dangoon, a South Korean fashion brand:
filed under
asian,
dangoon,
fashion,
internet,
retail,
retail therapy,
urban outfitter,
yesasia,
yesstyle
06 October 2009
A Change Is Gonna Come.
Word to Sam Cooke.
Nah, I'm not talking about civil rights or politics (although reading about the latter topic is has been giving me high blood pressure) ... but hairstyles.
My haircut of choice over the last few years had usually consisted of taking some clippers equipped with a #2 blade to my entire head, resulting in a low-maintenance 'do that didn't look too bad. I'd grow it out a little every now and then, just long enough to spike and add a bit of personality, but for the most part it was short and very manageable. Plus -- and this was a big plus -- all my hats/caps fit perfectly. Everything was on point.
Earlier this year I felt I needed some kind of change (word to Obama), and decided to experiment a little. I wanted to emulate a longer style popularized by my brothers across the Pacific, so I've been growing my hair out since about mid-March. Currently it's the longest it's been since about 1997. Needless to say, right now it looks Pretty Damn Fobulous. (But rest assured, I do not want X-Treme Korean Boy Band Hair.)
However this doesn't quite live up to my goal of having Bruce-like hair:
Trust: the man had style. I have ... fobby hair. Plus, my headwear doesn't quite feel right anymore on my dome ever since I started this project -- and it's getting colder out so I know I'm gonna start missin' my lids. So, is there some secret that I have to be in on to achieve this type of style correctly? *shrugs* I'll let it go for a couple more weeks to see if the situation improves. If not, out comes the #2 blade and it's back to short and spiky for me.
Nah, I'm not talking about civil rights or politics (although reading about the latter topic is has been giving me high blood pressure) ... but hairstyles.
My haircut of choice over the last few years had usually consisted of taking some clippers equipped with a #2 blade to my entire head, resulting in a low-maintenance 'do that didn't look too bad. I'd grow it out a little every now and then, just long enough to spike and add a bit of personality, but for the most part it was short and very manageable. Plus -- and this was a big plus -- all my hats/caps fit perfectly. Everything was on point.
Earlier this year I felt I needed some kind of change (word to Obama), and decided to experiment a little. I wanted to emulate a longer style popularized by my brothers across the Pacific, so I've been growing my hair out since about mid-March. Currently it's the longest it's been since about 1997. Needless to say, right now it looks Pretty Damn Fobulous. (But rest assured, I do not want X-Treme Korean Boy Band Hair.)
However this doesn't quite live up to my goal of having Bruce-like hair:
Trust: the man had style. I have ... fobby hair. Plus, my headwear doesn't quite feel right anymore on my dome ever since I started this project -- and it's getting colder out so I know I'm gonna start missin' my lids. So, is there some secret that I have to be in on to achieve this type of style correctly? *shrugs* I'll let it go for a couple more weeks to see if the situation improves. If not, out comes the #2 blade and it's back to short and spiky for me.
05 May 2009
In The Interest Of Patient Care.
So in order to maintain my highly glamorous student baller lifestyle (Nissan Altima on 17s, son, what!!), I've been working part-time over the weekends in the hospital. My main job duties include transporting both emergency room patients and inpatients from their rooms to the CT department if they need to be scanned per physician orders. It's not a particularly difficult job -- the hardest part is moving the patient from their bed to the CT table and back, especially if they're of the bariatric persuasion. The hours are good and I definitely get to meet some interesting people (who just happen to be having bad days).
Not that it surprised me much, but this past weekend I was again reminded of the cultural differences here in the Midwest as opposed to the coast(s) with regard to exposure to different ethnicities. The CT department was a bit busy, with orders for head, chest and abdomen scans steadily pouring in from the ER. To help catch up and stay ahead of the pace, I went and got a patient for transport early so he could be scanned immediately after the last one was finished.
He seemed like a nice enough older gentleman, kind of quirky and a little out of it due to the chest pains he was having. But he was pleasant enough as I walked into his room, introduced myself and informed him that I'd be taking him down to CT. I like to make light conversation to put the patients at ease and more comfortable with the situation, so as I pushed his bed along the corridors, talk turned to his previous stays at the hospital and the radiographic exams he'd already had.
"So, have you ever had a CT scan before?" I asked.
He thought for a minute. "That's not like an MRI, is it?"
"No ... CTs are pretty quick and you're not trapped in a tube for an hour like an MRI." I parked his bed outside of the CT room and waited for the exam inside to finish up. "It won't take long. Plus, they're a lot quieter."
He laughed. "Yeah I remember the MRI that I had, that thing was loud!" He then asked me if I'd seen some old movie about World War II and compared the sound of the MR machine to the guns on the battleships. "Yeah those guns were lined up in threes and would take out those Japanese planes doing harakiri ... no wait, that's not the right term for it --"
"Kamikaze," I offered.
"Right, kamikaze --" Pausing suddenly, he looked at me a little closer. "Hey ... you're not Japanese, are you?" I told him no, I was Filipino.
Another pause. "Oh okay, good -- 'cause if you were Japanese, man, I really would have insulted you!"
[insert record scratch sound here] Um.
I didn't quite know how to respond to him at that point, but I was pissed (picture me with my usual mad face and steam rising from the top of my dome). Luckily the door to the CT room opened and I took the emerging patient back to the ER while he went inside. Still, the conversation bounced around in my head for the rest of the day. Even now I'm still not sure if I should have said something; although I'm not Japanese I was still pretty offended by his comment. I know that my physical appearance solicited his outburst (please don't tell me that we really all look the same) and I can't help how I look, but he really didn't have to take it to the level where he would have "insulted" me if I had been Japanese. What would he have said, racial slurs?
I hate dealing with this crap.
Since I was in a hospital and work setting, and in the Interest Of Patient Care And Customer Service, I probably made the right decision in not pursuing the matter directly with the guy and giving him a strong piece of my mind. But trust me when I tell you I wanted to.
*sigh* So I'll vent by writing it down instead.
Not that it surprised me much, but this past weekend I was again reminded of the cultural differences here in the Midwest as opposed to the coast(s) with regard to exposure to different ethnicities. The CT department was a bit busy, with orders for head, chest and abdomen scans steadily pouring in from the ER. To help catch up and stay ahead of the pace, I went and got a patient for transport early so he could be scanned immediately after the last one was finished.
He seemed like a nice enough older gentleman, kind of quirky and a little out of it due to the chest pains he was having. But he was pleasant enough as I walked into his room, introduced myself and informed him that I'd be taking him down to CT. I like to make light conversation to put the patients at ease and more comfortable with the situation, so as I pushed his bed along the corridors, talk turned to his previous stays at the hospital and the radiographic exams he'd already had.
"So, have you ever had a CT scan before?" I asked.
He thought for a minute. "That's not like an MRI, is it?"
"No ... CTs are pretty quick and you're not trapped in a tube for an hour like an MRI." I parked his bed outside of the CT room and waited for the exam inside to finish up. "It won't take long. Plus, they're a lot quieter."
He laughed. "Yeah I remember the MRI that I had, that thing was loud!" He then asked me if I'd seen some old movie about World War II and compared the sound of the MR machine to the guns on the battleships. "Yeah those guns were lined up in threes and would take out those Japanese planes doing harakiri ... no wait, that's not the right term for it --"
"Kamikaze," I offered.
"Right, kamikaze --" Pausing suddenly, he looked at me a little closer. "Hey ... you're not Japanese, are you?" I told him no, I was Filipino.
Another pause. "Oh okay, good -- 'cause if you were Japanese, man, I really would have insulted you!"
[insert record scratch sound here] Um.
I didn't quite know how to respond to him at that point, but I was pissed (picture me with my usual mad face and steam rising from the top of my dome). Luckily the door to the CT room opened and I took the emerging patient back to the ER while he went inside. Still, the conversation bounced around in my head for the rest of the day. Even now I'm still not sure if I should have said something; although I'm not Japanese I was still pretty offended by his comment. I know that my physical appearance solicited his outburst (please don't tell me that we really all look the same) and I can't help how I look, but he really didn't have to take it to the level where he would have "insulted" me if I had been Japanese. What would he have said, racial slurs?
I hate dealing with this crap.
Since I was in a hospital and work setting, and in the Interest Of Patient Care And Customer Service, I probably made the right decision in not pursuing the matter directly with the guy and giving him a strong piece of my mind. But trust me when I tell you I wanted to.
*sigh* So I'll vent by writing it down instead.
filed under
asian,
culture,
ethnicity and race,
work
21 April 2009
Baby Steps To Sashimi.
Being at the hospital for twelve to thirteen straight hours sucks. Every other day after I finish my regular clinical internship hours from 7:00-3:30, I clock in and head directly to the mammography film library to work for a couple more hours and snag some extra cash as a Student Tech. I'm usually out by 5:30 or 6:00 at the latest, which is still early enough to run errands and whatnot before the day is completely done. However the guy who works the night shift had a family emergency and has been gone for over a week now, throwing the whole staffing schedule off.
In order to get things done in the library/admin office -- the most important of which involves preparing the next-day exam schedules for the various imaging services departments -- another Student Tech and I have been asked to stay extra late until the guy returns to work (no word from him so far). So yeah, while I get a bit more money out of it, leaving the hospital at 8:30 leaves me virtually no time nor energy to do things afterward. I don't want to complain too much though: The pay's pretty good for what it is, the people are cool, and it beats working part-time retail hands-down.
Anyway.
The most striking thing I've noticed about living (back again) in the Midwest is how culturally isolated the majority of the people here are. Not that they don't want to learn for the most part, but -- and please keep in mind I'm not referring to everyone -- they're so far removed from actual Asian cultural experience that their only exposure is through the occasional Asian/Asian-American friend, or through television (which may or may not be a good thing depending on what they're watching).
Not surprisingly, I've found that my classmates and co-workers here in Kansas are overall less willing to try new cuisine than their counterparts in California and Washington. I'm guessing this is because they just weren't exposed to it nearly as much, given the demographic makeup of the Midwest versus the West Coast. While this is completely understandable, it makes me a bit sad that some of them aren't willing to at least try food that they've never eaten before. I mean, how do you know you don't like something if you've never tried it? And I'm not even talking about the "delicacies" Andrew Zimmern shoves, still squirming, down his gullet on Bizarre Foods. I'm talking typical ethnic cuisine, and if you try it and still don't like it, then I'm cool with that.
So a few weeks back I resolved that, while I lived here in Kansas City, one of my personal missions would be to broaden the culinary palettes of my friends and co-workers -- and a few days ago I had my first chance. Since the beginning of the year, I'd been talking about the tastiness of Thai food to a few Asian Cuisine Virgins, and last Friday one of my more food-savvy co-workers and I decided to order Thai for lunch. I immediately asked D if he wanted to try it. A little background: He'd lived in Missouri/Kansas his entire life -- more than 50 years -- and I think had vacationed in Mexico a time or two. D liked Chinese food, and while I don't think he had even considered trying Thai before, he was game. So I ordered him a heaping plate of (you guessed it) Pad Thai.
Pad Thai was the obvious "starter" choice as the most taste-accessible dish -- the noodles, chicken and various garnishes and veggies look basically like Chinese food to the untrained eye. D liked it almost immediately and, in between exclamations of how good it tasted, devoured half of the contents of his take-out box before stopping, saving the rest for later. He even periodically offered samples to the rest of my co-workers and classmates who happened to be eating in the breakroom, but they unfortunately (and unsurprisingly) declined.
Ah, people, but you don't know what you're missing. Okay, more for us then!
It made me strangely pleased that I was able to share something as simple as a new food experience with someone, but hey if it helps open the door to new cultural experiences as a whole, then I'm all for it. Food can be the universal conduit.
Now if I can get D to try sashimi next ... hmm maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Baby steps ...
In order to get things done in the library/admin office -- the most important of which involves preparing the next-day exam schedules for the various imaging services departments -- another Student Tech and I have been asked to stay extra late until the guy returns to work (no word from him so far). So yeah, while I get a bit more money out of it, leaving the hospital at 8:30 leaves me virtually no time nor energy to do things afterward. I don't want to complain too much though: The pay's pretty good for what it is, the people are cool, and it beats working part-time retail hands-down.
Anyway.
The most striking thing I've noticed about living (back again) in the Midwest is how culturally isolated the majority of the people here are. Not that they don't want to learn for the most part, but -- and please keep in mind I'm not referring to everyone -- they're so far removed from actual Asian cultural experience that their only exposure is through the occasional Asian/Asian-American friend, or through television (which may or may not be a good thing depending on what they're watching).
Not surprisingly, I've found that my classmates and co-workers here in Kansas are overall less willing to try new cuisine than their counterparts in California and Washington. I'm guessing this is because they just weren't exposed to it nearly as much, given the demographic makeup of the Midwest versus the West Coast. While this is completely understandable, it makes me a bit sad that some of them aren't willing to at least try food that they've never eaten before. I mean, how do you know you don't like something if you've never tried it? And I'm not even talking about the "delicacies" Andrew Zimmern shoves, still squirming, down his gullet on Bizarre Foods. I'm talking typical ethnic cuisine, and if you try it and still don't like it, then I'm cool with that.
So a few weeks back I resolved that, while I lived here in Kansas City, one of my personal missions would be to broaden the culinary palettes of my friends and co-workers -- and a few days ago I had my first chance. Since the beginning of the year, I'd been talking about the tastiness of Thai food to a few Asian Cuisine Virgins, and last Friday one of my more food-savvy co-workers and I decided to order Thai for lunch. I immediately asked D if he wanted to try it. A little background: He'd lived in Missouri/Kansas his entire life -- more than 50 years -- and I think had vacationed in Mexico a time or two. D liked Chinese food, and while I don't think he had even considered trying Thai before, he was game. So I ordered him a heaping plate of (you guessed it) Pad Thai.
Pad Thai was the obvious "starter" choice as the most taste-accessible dish -- the noodles, chicken and various garnishes and veggies look basically like Chinese food to the untrained eye. D liked it almost immediately and, in between exclamations of how good it tasted, devoured half of the contents of his take-out box before stopping, saving the rest for later. He even periodically offered samples to the rest of my co-workers and classmates who happened to be eating in the breakroom, but they unfortunately (and unsurprisingly) declined.
Ah, people, but you don't know what you're missing. Okay, more for us then!
It made me strangely pleased that I was able to share something as simple as a new food experience with someone, but hey if it helps open the door to new cultural experiences as a whole, then I'm all for it. Food can be the universal conduit.
Now if I can get D to try sashimi next ... hmm maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Baby steps ...
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asian,
asian-american,
cuisine,
culture,
experience,
food,
hospital,
sushi,
thai,
work