martedì, marzo 08, 2011

Jié xi kǎ kěyǐ zàicì yùnxíng

Ahhhh. Back to running again. That cold or whatever it was couldn't stand up to a day of kim chi brine and hot chicken bone broth. In fact I don't think anything except the human spirit can survive a day of kim chi brine and chicken bone broth. But that combo is the shit. I'm pretty sure it can fix most ailments if combined with a hot toddy the night before. Gosh, with this sort of home medicine philosophy, I am gonna have some drunk, smelly kids during cold-and-flu season.

Anyways, I'm running again, and after the three day break it wasn't harder than usual, and I've decided I'm going to do the one-hour-running programme since I don't really care about races or running fast or things like that. I'm perfectly happy with my stately little trot. Truth be told I'm scared of running fast. When I trot my stately little trot, I can pay attention to my dicky knee and to my posture and to not falling over on wet grass and things like that. If not running for three days was such a pisser, I hate to think what'll happen if I blew out my knee again and couldn't run for weeks.

Anyways again. Yesterday whilst interminably practicing the pinyin table, practicing counting to ten, drinking kim chi brine and making bin dae duk, I've realized the persistent lack of Asians in my life since leaving Toronto four years ago has finally made me crack and start wanting to actually be Asian. Sort of like how South Park did that great episiode about how Michael Jackson's whole problem was wanting to be an 11-year-old girl. This better not play out into some sort of psychosomatic lactose intolerance. We are negotiating to buy a house here - to really commit ourselves to a good four or five years in this town - and that'll be four or five years almost completely without Asians. There are a tonne of Chinese kids coming through town for university, but they're all young, transient, and none of them cook for me.

Part of what is helping me stay cool in the negotiations for this house, which I actually really really want, is knowing that if it doesn't work out our options are open in terms of moving to a different city sooner than that, which actually offers some fucking culinary variety.

5 commenti:

noodles ha detto...

Why? Why fucking yellow people? They aren't all that great.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Noodles, you write that as someone who lives in the northern US, where Asian food is just a pleasant frill, frankly. I live in the subtropics, where it is what we should be eating constantly. And all you can rely on getting here is fucking meat pie and doughnuts. So I miss Asians like people running a marathon miss a cool drink of water.

And I miss south Asians too. They don't count as yellow, do they?

noodles ha detto...

I suppose they're more brown...

noodles ha detto...

I would cook for you, but I don't cook yellow food. Just a hodge podge of American and Italian. If you're ever in Chicago, my mom will make food for you. Like, TONS.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Sweeeet. Mind you in Chicago a hodgepodge of US and Italian food would be more apropos.