Walking out from the plane, dragging my body which has been on a plane seat for 14 hours, I stayed as close I can to my mother, whose back seemed ever big. Every step at a time came to me as a shock, as people of different races passed by me. All the gibberish that was written on the wall and the signs and crawled through my ear startled me at every corner. Waiting to step out of the world that would soon change my life forever, the only thing that I could think of was how desperately I wanted to eat a meal of Korean food. Coming from Korea as a thirteen-year old kid, it was a constant struggle every day just to spend another day in a foreign country where the culture and the language were unknown and unfamiliar to me. One of many things that helped me to adjust to this new world was food. Food, as insignificant it may seem to one’s adaptation, played a big role as it helped to get through hard times and find self-identity.
My mother was and still is a great cook. She has always tried to come up with new recipes and cook good food to us. I cannot remember a time when I complained about not having a good meal. When I first came to Canada, every day brought enormous stress and despair. Finding myself in a room full of strangers with different race than mine and unable to express myself were challenging experiences. I remember one time when I was playing basketball with some of my classmates during lunch recess when I got into trouble that I had no part into because I was not able to express myself. Paul, who was always a hyper and excited kid, shot the ball at the basket and the ball hit the edge of the rim. When the ball bounced back, it hit Paul directly in the face and he was in tears in no time. A supervisor on the field came, with predetermined thought that I had hit Paul with the ball, scolding me. Paul, who was already in much pain, found no peace of mind to explain to the supervisor what had actually happened, which I understood. What I was not able to understand was how biased the supervisor was who already determined that I was the cause of Paul’s pain. I tried my best with few mouth-mumbling words to explain to her the actual account of what had happened. To no avail, the supervisor, who already embarrassed my in front of all the kids at the field with her loud scolding, gave me an afternoon detention. Although Paul later explained everything and I got out of the detention, it took a toll on me emotionally. When I came home, my mom had cooked me a spicy beef soup with steamy white rice. The smell of the soup turned my dry mouth watery. As I enjoyed the soup, the memories of my father and I eating the same kind of soup together after a nice bath came rushing back. One particular event seemed to stick to my head. On my last time with my father, we were enjoying spicy beef soup at the restaurant at the airport while my mom and sisters went around shopping. As we were eating, my father looked straight into my eyes and said “I am sorry I have to put you this, but I and your mother are sacrificing our marriage and lives to give you guys better education. I know things can be difficult for you at first and many times after. However remember that your mom and sisters are there for you and I will always be here waiting for your call. Be strong.” After that flashback, I kept what my dad had said to me to my heart and remembered it whenever I was troubled. Whenever I ate Korean food that our family had enjoyed together, I was reminded of why I had come here and the fact that my family will always be there to support me.
As I adjusted myself to life in Canada and U.S., I sometimes found myself confused on my self-identity. Moving through different countries over the span of few years, I did not have adequate time to truly assess myself as a person and where I belong. I had seriously doubted myself as where if I was a Korean, Canadian or American. In which ever group I tried to fit in, I couldn’t feel the sense of belonging and who I was. Living in different countries, I have come in contact with rich variety of food which was imbedded within the multicultural societies of Canada and American. I came to appreciate the richness of what other cultures had to offer. For instance, many of my friends have introduced me to their own ethnic food such as Curry, Pho(Vietnamese rice noodle), Poutine(French style Fries),etc. I never have had any preference over which food of certain cultures was better. I took the variety of food itself as just the part of the largely multicultural society in which I lived. This experience have made me realize that I do not have feel like I belong to a specific group or a nation, but just to accept those groups just as they are and see myself as an independent member of the society in which I live in, regardless of where I live.
Food can be just a food. Depending on how you think of and what importance or significance food plays in your life, food can be a vital part of you. For me, food was more than just a food. Food is necessary for your survival, but it also helps to connect to yourself and those memories imbedded with particular food. Food can help you through difficult times just as it has for me. Food is not just for your stomach, but also for your soul and mind.
Pictures:
"Spicy beef soup" . Photograph. (n.d.) from blog.joins.com.
http://blog.joins.com/media/folderListSlide.asp?uid=bsb2001&folder=1&list_id=5145329(accesed September 03, 2009)
"Vietnamese beef noodle - Phở". Photograph. (n.d.) from en.wikeiedia.org
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Pho-Beef-Noodles-2008.jpg (accesed Septemeber 03, 2009)
"Poutine". Photograph (n.d.) from culinspiration.wordpress.com
http://culinspiration.wordpress.com/2009/05/03/100-foods-to-try-before-you-die/ (accesed September 03, 2009)
"Curry". Photograph. (n.d.) from sailusfood.com
http://www.sailusfood.com/2006/06/07/spicy-chicken-masala-curry/ (accesed September 03, 2009)
No comments:
Post a Comment