5 Things You Didn't Know About Me

The first award I won was an English recital award. It was the first year of junior high (grade 7). Every student in each class had to memorize a passage and recite it to the English teacher in front of the class. Once the class winners were finalized, they competed in front of the whole school up on stage with a microphone. There were 52 students in my class, and 37 classes in my grade. I won First Prize 3 school terms in a row until my home room teacher transferred me to a different class (long story). I stopped caring and eventually gave up studying altogether. Back then, I never thought my English would be better than my Chinese one day. Funny how life works.

 

I think it's really gross to share utensils, drink from the same straw, or take bites out of the same piece of food. This is probably definitely an only child thing. Don't get me wrong. I can do it, if it's the only way to get some food, but I've always found it gross, even if I'm sharing with my mother, husband, or my own kids. To me, it's like sharing a toothbrush. People just shouldn't do it.

 

Since I grew up in Taiwan, I've eaten some "interesting" (in North American standard) things: liver, tripe, intestines, heart, brain, tongue, lips, cheeks, chin, chicken testicles, eyes, feet, tail, and bum (yes, bum). Other than the usual meats, I've also eaten dog stew once. In my defense, I was young, and I didn't know it was dog meat. Oh yeah, when I was little, I was told to eat a pigeon (Okay, I didn't eat the pigeon because there's really not much meat on a pigeon, but I had to drink that soup). It was slow cooked with Chinese medicine, and it was believed to "cure" bed-wetting. Ugh! Each swallow made me gag, and I think drinking all that soup probably made me wet the bed that night too. Dog was yummy though, in case you want to know.

 

I don't like bugs, but I'm not afraid of them (having grown up on a subtropical island, you kind of get used to them). I once caught a cockroach while studying for an exam with a few friends. Out of boredom (and curiosity), we soaked it in a glass of Shaoxing (an alcoholic drink similar to Whisky, with like 40% alcohol content) for as long as it took for us to discuss and solve a complicated math problem. Then we took it out with a pair of disposable chopsticks and set it on fire. It was on fire for about fifteen seconds, and it smelled like burnt flesh. Guess what? It was still alive!! Probably drunk out of its mind, but it was still trying to get away even with a couple of its legs burnt off. My friends and I were so impressed we set it free. What can I say? We were a group of bored 18-year-olds who would rather be doing anything else but studying for the exam.

 

This is a short list of my childhood memories that are triggered by the smell of certain foods.

• Peking roasted duck -- a calligraphy teacher because his studio was right above a restaurant.
• warm milk -- the kindergarten I went to
• bread that just came out of the oven -- home (we lived on the third floor above a bakery)
• Brandy -- my grandmother (she had a shot of Brandy before bed every night for as long as I can remember. Maybe that was her secret to longevity)
• spicy hot pot -- a friend who currently resides in The Windy City (who, I think, also reads this blog). I think of her every time I smell spicy hot pot because that was where I met her the first time twenty years ago. It was so spicy the four of us used up a box of Kleenex, smoked I-don't-know-how-many YSL Menthols, and finished 2 cartons of guava juice. Good times, good times! Not sure if she'd want to be linked to the smell of spicy hot pot though.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy