Gone fishing…

Thank you for following and encouraging me on this blog. Since I started (and abandoned) this blog years ago, I have moved on to a different part of the world, Europe. Life seems to keep me moving from one foreign place to another. Initially I thought about restarting this blog after the long hiatus (sorry about that!), but then I decided I needed a clean slate, a new canvas on which to capture my favorite things.

Because these two blog are relatively new, I have no idea where I intend to go with them (they are still a work in progress). But as I have realized in my own life, there is just so much planning I can do; sometimes I just have to take the first step and see where the journey takes me.

If you are interested in joining me there, please check out
Mishe en Place
Mishe Goes Places

Happy New Year! And thanks again for your support!

Big, red, and beautiful!

The numerous boxes from Zappos, Amazon, and other online shopping sources attest to my weakness for shoes, boots, books, and other purchases that give me temporary (and superficial) fulfillment. Today, however, I made a purchase of an item that would not have made my “top 1,000 things I want to own” list. I purchased a Le Creuset French oven in bright red.

When I showed my purchase to DH, he looked surprised and asked sarcastically, “Are you going to learn how to cook?” It’s a well known fact that I do not cook because I am really bad at it. Therefore, DH was asking if I had bought the French oven for him to cook me some particular dish. In the past, I may have done that a few times to “manage” my expectations of what I wanted DH to cook. However, this time, I bought the French oven for myself. Yes, believe it or not I want to learn how to cook. And if I’m going to do it right, I want to have the best and beautiful tool to keep my precarious interest going. If my desire to cook is a fleeting fancy then DH will have a beautiful new kitchen pot with which to cook lentils, stews, lasagnas, soups, casseroles, and other delicious dishes that he makes. I think he’s going to love cooking with the new French oven. I am almost afraid to try it out because I don’t want to mess it up or damage it. Burning cheap pots is one thing, but this one is almost too beautiful for cooking.

I have no rational explanation for the sudden desire to cook. But some recent influences or changes may have a bearing on this new undertaking:

1. I purchased an AeroGarden from Amazon and six of the seven pods started sprouting little minature leaves within the first week. That’s truly amazing, given the fact that the two Basil plants I had had before suddenly die. DH said the lighting was wrong in the apartment for normal plants and herb. But I think I may have forgotten to water them or I may have watered them too much. The AeroGarden prevents me from doing either because it reminds me when the pods need water, and it also tells me when to add nutrients. My friend was right; the AeroGarden is dummy proof. So far, I’m enjoying the ease with which little herbs are growing in the apartment.

2. I recently rediscovered Jamie Oliver. I love watching him cook. He makes cooking look exciting and not just another household task. Watching his cooking videos on Youtube inspired me to create something good to eat-no easy task. I ordered Jamie Oliver’s 30-minute meals cookbook, which I hope will be an easy book to follow and one that will inspire me to cook more and eat out less.

3. It’s been incredibly cold in Seoul and I have no desire to go outside looking for food. Because the weather is so cold, I want soups, stews, and warming foods, which is hard to get here in Seoul, and requires cooking at home.

4. I need to do something with my hands besides typing on the computer, using a mouse, or playing games occasional on my iPhone.

5. My shipments from Zappos and Amazon are taking longer to reach me; I needed to purchase something beautiful.

Why did I wait so long?

It’s so easy to get angry. Isn’t it? A taxi pulls out in front, missing my front bender by a hair; a motorcyclist, leaden with mountains of broomsticks on his rack, cuts in front of my car so he can hop onto the sidewalk and drive across the crosswalk. The red light applies to everybody else stuck in traffic, but he feels entitled to skirt the law and do as he pleases, so do the motorcyclists following his example. Another rider wedges his bike and load between my car and the wall of the tunnel so that he doesn’t have to wait like the rest of the us. His metal bars scrap the side of my car, but he doesn’t stop. He rides on; he is too important to stop. When you have a society where each person acts this way, it’s ripe for chaos. And it really pisses me off! But of all the things that anger me, the worst are the things I do to myself.

Why did I spend the first three decades of my life trying to prevent pregnancy, only to realize that pregnancy later in life is mission impossible. Why didn’t I know this before? How could I have missed this important fact of life? Was I absent that day in school? Or were the teachers so busy educating us on the evils of sex-telling us to wait-that they forgot to mention the biological clock? I didn’t feel my biological clock ticking. Am I that out of touch with my body?

I recently learned that in ovarian years, I am two years older than my actual age. Does this mean my ovaries were in existence long before my parents got together. How is that possible? Based on my ovarian age, the odds of me getting pregnant is lower than the odds of the US overcoming their deficit. How depressing is that? And apparently it’s decreasing every day-my odds of getting pregnant, not the US trade deficit. So, I’m angry at myself for all those years of waiting-waiting to become more mature, more stable, more competent to be a parent. I’m still waiting to be those things, but now I realize that I may never have to wait for parenthood; it may never come to fruition.

Being angry at someone is easy. You curse at bad drivers, which I have been known to do on occasion when I am driving alone. But anger at yourself doesn’t go away as easily as anger at a passing motorist. It seeps into your pores, it lingers, it turns to frustration, rue, sorrow and, eventually…self-reflection.

The Valley Spirit never dies
It is named the Mysterious Female
And the Doorway of the Mysterious Female
Is the base from which Heaven and Earth sprang.

It is there within us all the while;
draw upon it as you will, it never runs dry
-Tao Te Ching

Babooshka?…Dah

When the temperature drops, sub-zero cold, as it does this time of year, I yearn for something soft and warm to wrap around my neck. Whenever I go outside and the wind blows, it feels as if it somehow works its way through the opening around the neck of my coat and down to my chest, and I hate being cold. I thought that if I knitted a little red riding hood, one that could function as a thick scarf or a hood with long tails, I could wrap it around my head and neck, preventing any chilly air from entering the insides of my coat.

I had the perfect yarn for such a project. Beautiful, fiery red Kyoto (silk, mohair, wool yarn) from Artfibers in San Francisco. I found the perfect pattern in the red riding hood scarf by Suss Cousins. I started this project last year while vacationing in Europe, and halfway through, I lost interest, and it became a UFO. Last month I remembered the project, found it in my stash of UFOs, and re-engaged.

I finished it last week, and before blocking it or putting on the buttons, I tried it on. I asked DH what he thought and he replied, “You look like a babooshka.” That was not the response I was hoping for, but his feedback made me think about Kate Bush’s song, which I loved in the 80’s. I asked DH, “Babooshka?” “Dah,” he replied. An image of an old Russian peasant laboring in barren fields in sub-zero temperatures sprang to mind. I’m not of Russian descent (not that I know of), nor have ever labored in anything, so I thought my husband must be having flash backs to something beyond my control. A babooshka wasn’t the image I was going for, but, after years of marriage, I knew that my husband’s impression could be “managed” better to my expectations. He once (or twice) nixed pairs of boots that I saw on Zappos. After I ordered and received them, he saw them on my feet and his impression of them changed.

So, while I work on transforming my babooshka-esque hood into a cute little red riding hood, I decided to model the scarf on Bob, my punching partner. What do you think?

Not a follower

All the recommendations for blogs suggest consistency as the key. I’m not consistent when it comes to blogging regularly; my apologies. I blog because it gives me an opportunity to do what I usually suppress: Expressing myself.

My last blog was over two months ago. It’s not that I haven’t had things on my mind. It’s that I haven’t given myself permission to do the things that I enjoy. It’s funny (or sick, depending on how you look at it), that I tend to give more emphasis to other people’s needs or desires than my own. I am great about meeting work deadlines, milestones, but I don’t give the same importance and urgency for my own personal milestones and deadlines.

Do I have any personal milestones?

All my life, I have never felt as if I belonged to a specific group; I have always felt like an outsider. A butterfly fluttering from one social group to the next. I can identify with each group, but I don’t feel aligned only to one group. This creates a dilemma.

Where exactly do I belong?

Moving Day in Seoul

Moving is stressful. Although I should be a pro at it by now, I am still quite a novice when it comes to managing my expectations. The movers were supposed to arrive at 8:00 am last Friday. They sauntered in a little later, closer to 10:00am.

As soon as we opened the door to them, they charged into the room with their dirty shoes on and, looking down at our socked feet, instructed us to put on our shoes. It’s common practice in most Asian countries to take off the shoe when one enters a home. Because it was moving day for us, I did not mind. But the manner in which they charged in, an hour late, set the stage for disappointment.

So much of life is about managing expectations.

Why did I expect the movers to arrive on time? Why did I expect them to arrive with tools? I guess I should have been grateful that they arrived with crates, some boxes and rolls of tape. One mover took permanent markers to use, stating, “I need to use this.” Of course, as expected, it did not make it to my next apartment.
The marker wasn’t the issue; I can afford a marker, but it’s the principle behind it. If you are moving company, you need to show up prepared! I finally spoke up when they started throwing my books, willy-nilly, into their plastic crates. As evident from the sparsely furnished apartment, I don’t own much furniture, however, I own lots of books. When movers handle my books by tossing them into crates so that the binder is not fully aligned or so that the pages are all crinkled, my entire body starts to tense. My body was as stiff as a statue on moving day.

The new apartment is about half the size of the old apartment; however it’s brand-spanking new and within a 15-minute walk to work. The latter was the tipping point for me; how much space do I really need because I am rarely home.

It’s been six days since I moved, but the place still looks like I just moved in. Two of the bedrooms are full of unopened boxes, stacks of backpacks, suitcases and things piles against the three walls. I need to slowly tackle everything, putting them away or getting rid of them so that I feel more at home here than I did in the previous place.

Unfortunately, I have been so busy with work that I haven’t had much opportunity in the evenings to get my things in place. All that will have to wait more weeks until I return from the US; I fly to the US tomorrow. Today’s major accomplishment was finding my carry-on luggage, hidden behind two boxes of appliances from when I lived in Europe, buried in the bottom of a pile of other suitcases, backpacks, snowboards and skies.

It’s well past midnight and ow I need to go and pack my suitcase for tomorrow’s trip.

Time to celebrate; lease is signed!

New Perch over Seoul

My search for something comfortable and cozy in a new home took a vertical turn when I abandoned “villas” (older small-rise apartments) for the “apartments” (brand-spanking-new high-rises). Although I prefer neighborhoods with character to smack-dab-in-the-city urban cool, that is ultimately what I settled on. With less than 15 days remaining before I have to move out of my current home, I compromised and settled for convenience; I can walk from my new apartment to work.

In a few weeks, I will pay approximately $100,000 for a two-year lease on a 1,000,000,000Won apartment. I do not understand why Seoul’s real estate market is so inflated, especially given the ubiquitous high-rise apartment complexes sprouting up all over the city like Starbucks coffee shops on every corner in the US. However, now the stress of finding a new home is behind me and I can stress about the next event: moving. But, for now I am celebrating the milestone by finishing off a bottle of French red and listening to Euro dance music.

Today was one of those beautiful days full of clear skies, warm sunshine, and a constant breeze that reminded me of places like Hawaii, San Francisco, or Greece, not Seoul. I reveled in the warmth of the unexpectedly gorgeous day by blasting Bachata music as I drove around the city to meet my new landlord and sign the lease, have lunch with a friend, and ignore the inconsiderate drivers running red lights, cutting me off, or making illegal left turns from the farthest right lane. Even their inconsiderate behavior could not spoil my elation. If I could bottle the uplifted feeling that I experienced most of the day and sell it, I could definitely quit my day job. Unfortunately, that is not an option; I will have to settle for the occasional day off or two…

Leopard spikes

Early tomorrow morning, before the rooster that lives somewhere in earshot of my bedroom window wakes me up, I will head to the Inchon airport and fly to Southeast Asia, one destination known (Singapore), the other unknown. I am not sure what is in store but I was told to pack my bikini, yoga outfit, and evening wear. I consider myself a very light and economical packer, but just those three things for six days doesn’t seem enough. Therefore, I also packed my leopard spikes (dual function), The Possessed, and the latest National Geographic. I am going from 12 degrees Celsius here in Seoul to 30plus degrees Celsius. I do not plan to wear much clothing. I’ll just live in my bikini most of the day and then see what the evening requires. Where am I headed?

Moving again, 18 more days…

View from Ikebukuro Apt in Tokyo

Not counting hotels and serviced hotels that have functioned as my home away from home, I have moved my household goods and tried to establish a semblance of ‘home’, at least eight different times in five different countries in the past ten years. Is that a lot? I don’t even know anymore because everything is relative and I move often.

After just passing my one year mark living in one place in Seoul, I am again looking for a new home. The landlord of my current apartment sold it without informing me. When I called his representative to inquire about extending the lease, she nonchalantly informed me that I had a new landlord now. “Excuse me?” I asked, thinking that I had misunderstood her broken English. “You have new landlord. We no landlord,” she explained, as if I was some dumb foreigner who did not watch the news and had not heard through other sources that my apartment had been sold. Because I had never agreed to someone looking at the apartment, I was a bit puzzled as to how the landlord could have sold the apartment sight unseen. Would anyone buy this apartment without having seen it: the leaking roof, the light fixtures that don’t work, the low water pressure, the thin walls/floors? Obviously yes they would and they did. The apartment is not worth the exorbitant rent that my company pays, but this is Korea and rules don’t really apply here, especially when money is involved.

In a recent newspaper article, which a friend emailed to me, Koreans win the title as the most materialistic people in the world. After having lived here one year, I’m not too surprised by Reuter’s poll findings; it doesn’t surprise me at all.

Tatami Play Room in Tokyo

For a developing country such as Korea, real estate prices are overpriced for what one receives and the way that the money transaction takes place makes me feel party to money laundering.

This is the only country that I have lived in so far where rent is paid up front for the entire length of the lease and in cash only. Normally, the rental agreements for foreigners are two-year agreements. That means that there is a large and steady stream of foreign currency coming into this country that is not tracked at all. I do not understand how Korea can still be in the dark ages of only dealing with cash transactions, especially for such easily tractable ticket items such as rent.

However, the rental amount is the least of my constraints. I had a list of ideal apartment attributes that I wanted in a new home. However, as my deadline grows nearer without any success of securing a new home, I find myself compromising on my ideals. I wanted to avoid the new high-rise mega apartments that are sprouting like dandelions throughout Seoul. However, those are plentiful, whereas the more charming and older ‘villas’ (shorter apartments) are in limited supply.

With only 18 more days until I have to be out of this apartment, my requirements for the ‘ideal’ apartment are disappearing as quickly as the yellow dust from China is blowing in, and I am starting to rationalize the merits of living in a high-rise with hundreds of other tenants: convenience, convenience, convenience. And knowing that this is a temporary situation, because I do not have to live here forever, makes it that much more palatable.

High-rise apt in Seoul

Hawaii: Double Rainbows, Great Food, Awesome Weather

I now understand why Hawaii’s license plates display a rainbow. Driving towards the Honolulu airport to catch my flight back to Seoul, I saw many rainbows, even doubles, in the blue, gray sky as Israel sang ‘Over the Rainbow,’ through the airwaves. It was a picture perfect day. Too bad I was leaving Oahu without having seen the North Shore, without having surfed the waves, without having eaten any snow cones. Fortunately, I ate very well during my short stay in Waikiki.

Avocado, red grapefruit, mesclun

For my last supper, I dined at a cute little Italian restaurant called Arancino next to Embassy Suites Waikiki. If I ever return to Honolulu, I will definitely visit again. The atmosphere was cozy, a nice change from the large chains that fill the neighborhood; the food was tasty; the menu was just the right size; and I felt well taken care of, especially as a solo diner.

Proscuitto with Papaya

Linguine ai Gamberetti

Home-made Tiramisu

Aaron-Manager of Arancino

I enjoyed a nice glass of pinot grigio, the house special wine for the day, as I waited for my Linguine ai Gamberetti. The flavorful tomato sauce complimented the al dente linguine and the juicy Tiger prawns. Next, I tried the salad sampler: Caprese Salad, Papaya with Prosciutto, and Shrimp,Avocado, Red Grapefruit Salad. I first experienced Avocado with Red Grapefruit Salad five years at Cashion’s in DC, one of my favorite local eateries when I was living in Adams Morgan. I can still remember when Billy served it to me for the first time and how much I loved the contrast between the rich avocado and the crisp, slightly tart grapefruits. It’s still one of my favorite salads and Arancino’s did not disappoint. I finished on a sweet note of house-made Tiramisu and a shot of espresso. Yum, yum, yum.

One of the things that I didn’t expect in Hawaii was the heavy Asian population. Someone said that Chinese people make up the largest Asian population, but another said that the Filipinos represent the largest. I don’t know which is true, but one thing was certain, there were lots of Japanese, both locals and tourists.

Palm Trees and Boutiques in Waikiki

At times I felt like I was in Tokyo because Japanese was spoken everywhere: by shop attendants, by hotel clerks, and even by the wait staff. In Waikiki, almost all the attendants addressed me in Japanese when I entered their shops or restaurants. I guess they’re used to and expect Japanese tourists, especially in Waikiki.

Hawaii’s beautiful, breezy climate reminded me of Singapore, but some of the seedy parts of the city reminded me of Baltimore, Beijing, and low-income areas in many big cities. The locals that I encountered were all very friendly and helpful, a nice change from other cities that I have lived in or visited.

Another thing I did not realize before my trip to Honolulu was how blue the sky can be. Living in Seoul for so long, I have gotten used to dark gray and light gray. But the sky in Hawaii was amazing. If I had had an opportunity to visit the beaches during the day I am sure I would have been impressed with the beautiful ocean as well.

Double Rainbow Over Honolulu

Although I did not do as much as I had planned, I enjoyed the trip and hope that I can return again to surf, see more double rainbows, and eat great food.

Mahalo!

Less Than One Out of Ten

I know why humans do not have wings; we weren’t meant to travel through different time zones. I may have stepped back in time and gained 11 hours flying to Hawaii, but the time in Seoul continued. As a result, I woke up this morning, which is Sunday in Hawaii, and failed to recognize that it was already Monday morning in Korea. I was only reminded of it while chatting with a friend on Skype. Normally when we chat, it’s night for me and day for him or vice versa. Now that I’m back in the US, he was only a few hours ahead of me, but because of my sleep-deprived state, I asked him what he was doing up so late and he replied, “It’s almost 2pm. You’re only a few hours away from me now; you’re back in the US.” “Oh yeah,” I replied. “If you were in Seoul, it would be Monday morning,” he added.

I literally fell out of my Embassy Suites chair. “What? It’s Monday morning in Seoul?” I asked. “I have a paper due in two hours that I thought I had another day to work on. I gotta go. I’ll skype you back later.”

Each Monday morning, before 10:00 am, I have to turn in an assignment for my Business Law class. How could I have completely forgotten about the paper and the fact that Korea is one day ahead? Is this what happens from traveling through time zones too much, eating too many bananas, and not sleeping enough?

I managed to finish the paper and submit it before 10:00am Seoul time. However, that little hiccup threw a wrench into plans for the rest of my only “free” day in Hawaii. Yesterday I had planned to spend my Sunday as follows:
1. Wake up at 6:00am and run up to Diamond Head Crater
2. Eat breakfast, shower, and then test drive out to the location of my first meeting on Monday
3. Find an AT&T shop to purchase a SIM card
4. Find a dive shop
5. Drive up to the North Shore and watch the surfers
6. Eat lunch at a local shrimp shack near the North Shore
7. Eat some local ice cream (or shaved ice)
8. Buy a new bikini
9. Eat dinner at a restaurant in Waikiki while listening to live music
10. Find a salsa bar

It’s nearly 11pm in Honolulu and I managed to limit my accomplishments to less than one from the list above. I slept in so I did not run to Diamond Head nor see the sunrise. Because I slept in, I ate brunch instead of breakfast. But I did manage to take a shower-Yeah! Then my plans took a nose dive.

By the time I finished my paper and sent it on its electronic journey to my Law professor’s inbox, it was already afternoon so I decided to skip doing a test drive for tomorrow morning and decided to find the AT&T shop. I followed the directions that I printed from google maps and it lead me to a mall called Ala Moana Shopping Center. I guess AT&T shops are now in malls. I parked the car and went in search of the shop.

Couple hours shopping

When you live outside the US (with the exception of most European cities, Hong Kong, and Tokyo), the shopping isn’t all that exciting. Yes, there are lots of cheap knock offs that you can purchase in Asia, if that is your thing, or lots of very expensive and overpriced designer products that you can purchase at 500% or more mark up, but there isn’t a good supply of reasonably priced merchandise that isn’t geared for the teeny bopper age or the geriatric generation. I have a hard time finding clothes that I like, that fit me, and that I want to own.

The few shops that lined the mall, between where I parked and where the AT&T store was, tempted me inside with their wares. Before I knew what was happening, I was trying on jeans, shirts, skirts, bikinis, underwear, boots, shoes, etc. I think this is what my DH calls, “Power Shopping”. I do it once in a blue moon and when I do, I do it REALLY well. I should have bought stock in DKNY, Links, and 7 for all mankind. Because I wasn’t shopping but on a mission to find a SIM card and happened to find myself in a store, I actually found things that I liked, that fit me and that I wanted to own. Funny how life works in unexpectedly ways. But now I have to buy myself a bag because my new purchases, which I had not expected to have, won’t fit in my small little carry-on luggage, which is all I brought with me because I had not planned to do any shopping in Hawaii. Will anything goe as planned this week?

Phuket Thai-Honolulu

Well, one thing is certain. I’m always hungry or on the verve of getting hungry. All the “power shopping” made me really really hungry (must have been all the bicep curls from lifting the clothes) and lightheaded (imagining my credit card bill next month) so I asked one of the clerks who was helping me (everybody is so friendly and nice here) if she could recommend a good place that locals go for really good food. She recommended Phuket Thai, a cozy Thai restaurant in McCully Shopping Center and gave me driving directions. As I approached the center, I could tell it was very popular because there was no parking but long queues for the outdoor and indoor parking lots. I drove a couple blocks farther, parked in front of a house that was being renovated, and walked to the center. The place was packed, but they had one small table available so I decided to stay and dine in. I ordered three dishes: papaya salad, minced chicken with basil, chili, and spring rolls. After dipping the spring rolls in chili sauce, wrapping it with peppermint and green salad and stuffing it into my mouth, I felt my energy returning.

Tomorrow I have no plans for the evening except to start on my next 10-page paper, which is due Wednesday evening Seoul time, which will be Tuesday evening Honolulu time. So far Hawaii is wonderful but I doubt that I’ll see much of it besides from the conference room, the highway, the inside of my rental car and my hotel room. I’ll be lucky to get any of the ten things I wanted to accomplish today accomplished at all before I leave. Maybe I can have shaved ice delivered to my hotel room? No, that’s just not the same.