The Passion for Food: It's in the Genes

Every time I'm back at my parent's house in California, I fill up on all the home-cooked Burmese and Chinese food I can possibly stuff myself with. I consider myself extremely lucky that my mother is such an amazing cook and that from a very young age, I was exposed to "exotic" food (she was always getting recipes from her friends at work and trying them out at home).

Mom trying out fried sardines in Istanbul

Of course, at the time, my conforming child-self wished I could have meatloaf and TV dinners like all my "normal" American friends were having!

Now I see how fortunate I was. My passion for food and eating came from my mother. She showed me how flavors and colors can enhance not just your dining experience, but your life as well. Eating with my mother was always a social affair full of friends and family, stories, jokes, and laughter.

My mom and I traveling in Bagan, Burma

I love my mother so much for teaching me how to enjoy and appreciate food in and of itself, and for teaching me to share that joy with others.

For the longest time I had wanted to get her recipes down on paper and share them on my blog. Unfortunately, I was always traveling and whenever I visited, it was only for a short amount of time. This past month I was in California for several weeks and finally managed to get a couple recipes to share! Be on the look-out for them in the next few weeks!

Thanks, Mom, for having the patience to cook with me in your kitchen as I try to frantically scribble down the ingredients and take photos before everything burns! I'm sure my readers will also appreciate it, especially once they try your recipes!

© Connie Hum 2012

The Meaning of Home

Home. For long-term travelers, this word can take on a strange meaning.

This is especially true now as I write this from my childhood home in Fremont, California.

Having grown up in Fremont and with the majority of my family still living here, this should be the one place where I feel most at home. But it's not. To be honest, there isn't a place where I feel more out of place and alien. Having moved out of the house when I was 19 years old, I find I have next to nothing in common with most of the friends and family members who have remained. It's pretty sad, and I find it depressing.
 
To long-term travelers, "home" is no longer a place of residence or somewhere completely familiar. The idea of having a "home" gets replaced with temporary spaces to leave your things; a series of fleeting moments of rest in hotels, hostels, airport lounges, overnight bus and/or trains, a kind stranger's couch, or sometimes, even just out underneath the stars.

Not quite feeling at homey on an overnight bus in Vietnam

For all intents and purposes, long-term travelers are essentially "home"-less.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Is it?

In my Facebook profile, I describe myself as a "happy homeless girl wandering across the world, lost somewhere between the earth and the sky..." Being without a home has never been much of a problem for me, but sometimes, particularly in those extremely rare moments when I feel out of place and isolated from my environment, the sense of homelessness can be jarring. Fortunately, I soon get swept up in the thrill of exploring the new sights around me and I am back to being myself.

Happy and homeless in India

In general, I still see myself as a happy homeless girl and the more I travel the world, the more I've come to realize that "home" isn't necessarily a specific place, but rather a sense of belonging.

I feel most at ease striking up conversations with complete strangers on the street. I feel most like my true self when the excitement and momentum of daily challenges and discoveries drive me forward. I feel most comfortable when I'm lost and wandering in unfamiliar locations, with no particular destination in mind.

Yes, it's true; I feel most at home when I don't know what the heck is going on around me.

My home is the road and that's where I belong.

And if that requires more nights in strange beds in small towns, so be it. I'm not ready to give up this home. Not just yet.

© Connie Hum 2012

Montage Monday: Christmas

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE! This Montage Monday, share in my three favorite Christmas memories from years past.

This photo sums up Christmas in San Diego, California perfectly. Sunshine and beaches, with a little Christmas decorations to remind you that it's actually December! It's a bit strange for me to experience such a warm Christmas, but you can't really complain when San Diego is just so lovely this time of year!

I love Christmas in NYC! There's so many beautiful decorations around! Here I took a photo of Neil, Nathan, Nelson (wow, so many N-names!) and my reflection on a Christmas ornament in one of the shops in SoHo.

A White Elephant Gift Exchange is a fun Christmas tradition with my family in California. Typical White Elephant "gifts" for us include socks, Chia Pets, lava lamps, soap dispensers and last year's most coveted gift: the Slanket!


Where is your favorite Christmas travel destination?

© Connie Hum 2010

Sun Diego

My week in San Diego was lovely indeed. The sun was shining, the temperature was in the high 60s/low 70s and I? I was in paradise. Literally.

I spent my days biking along the beach, eating wonderful Mexican food and just merely relaxing in the sunshine. It was a little hard to believe that at one point in my life, every day was (mostly) like this. I even tried surfing again one morning, getting an incredible workout as the waves crashed into me. I spent more time trying to battle my way out into the water than anything else, but it was still thrilling to be back in the water again.

One afternoon was spent watching body surfers in La Jolla Cove. They are pretty amazing. I met one of the body surfers as he was coming out of the water. He was in his 60's and doing this!

It was great to see my SD friends again, some of whom I hadn't seen in years. It's always such a treat to see old friends and discover that the friendship hasn't staled in the time that we had been apart. That's a testament to my friends themselves and I'm so grateful for having these people be a part of my life.

After my week in San Diego, I have a bit of an inkling that I could possibly move back to my little beach shack next to the ocean and lead a perfectly contented life. So long as I can shuttle between there and New York City of course.

© Connie Hum 2009

BEWARE: Asian Woman Driving!

It saddens me to say this but it's true. I've become one of my worst fears. A bad Asian woman driver.

As much as I have been trying to avoid it, I have recently gotten back behind the wheel of a car. It's almost impossible not to drive here in the suburbs. It's been a long time since I last drove and my first few excursions out on the road have been somewhat, ahem...adventurous.

Unfortunately, my driving has only reinforced the stereotype about Asian women being bad drivers.

First off, being in driver seat is just plain scary for me! I'm really not used to it anymore and I can't say that I'm fully comfortable in that seat. I'm constantly fidgeting around and I get tense when the car's in motion, which makes me even more uncomfortable.

Another thing, the car seems to be going much faster than it really is. On my first day on the highway, I was aghast at all the cars speeding past me. I was shocked at how cavalier people were with the high speeds they were driving. I mean, I was driving a speedy - wait! I'm driving 40-45 mph on the highway! No wonder people were passing me up! I tried to drive at the speed limit but it was really scary and seemed too fast for me.

Driving at night and/or in the rain is a complete nightmare and I've been trying to avoid that as much as possible. It's really much to dangerous for me and for everyone else on the road.

Bottom line? I really don't belong behind the wheel of a car. Though it really has nothing to do with me being an Asian woman. I'm just a bad driver now.

© Connie Hum 2009

There's No Place Like Home...

While Dorothy discovered that "there's no place like home" in The Wizard of Oz, I have discovered that being back in my hometown is, for lack of a better word, weird. Fremont, California is, to me, just as strange and foreign as the land of Oz was for Dorothy, and I confess that I feel strange and foreign myself in this place.

It's only been a week since my arrival and I'm glad I'm back to see my Grandpa and the rest of my family but most of the time I just feel like I'm in suburban hell. I'm really just not made to live outside of big cities. Things don't make sense to me here. Why is everything so far away that it requires me to drive a car? How come the city buses go nowhere useful? Why must I risk life and limb each time I try to bike somewhere on my younger cousin's bike simply because people here don't know how to share the road with bikers? How come there isn't a basket on her bike for me to put my purse? =)

I don't think there's anything wrong with living in suburbia, it's just that I can't do it. I get far too bored.

I'll be in Fremont until the 1st of July so if anyone's in town, let me know and we'll catch up!

© Connie Hum 2009