Wherever You Go, There You Are

 

How has First Week of Second Shutdown been, friends? This second round seems a little less daunting to me than the first. As economic and social inequities continue to be exposed by the global pandemic, I remind myself to appreciate certain luxuries I have taken for granted.

Audrey told me about a Ted Talk she watched recently in which a monk described some time he spent in a remote part of Africa where there was no running water and no electricity. Upon returning home, the monk felt OVERWHELMING JOY each time he turned on the water or flicked on his lights. But after time, he realized that the joy was fading because he was taking these resources for granted. His solution? He put stickers on his spigots and light switches as reminders to be grateful.

Despite the shit ton of crappy news that 2020 has brought, I believe that something big and beautiful will rise from the ashes of this dumpster fire of a year. All the practice I’ve gotten in being more mindful and present will serve me well into old age. This will be especially important when we’re able to travel freely again as illustrated by this woman’s story.

Eldga in Iceland is the largest volcanic canyon in the world. Iceland seems like such an exotic locale, and this remote volcanic region is a popular walking area for visiting touists. Look how pretty.

 

Several years ago, a woman on a sightseeing tour was reported missing by her bus driver. The ten people on this tour had some time to explore Eldga on foot and were expected to return to the bus at a certain time. The tour company driver waited for an hour then called the police when the woman still failed to show up. Local search teams were dispatched and about 50 other people who were there joined the search along barren treeless hillsides.

A Coast Guard helicopter was on its way to search for this “160cm (that’s five-foot-two for all of us Metric Illiterates) Asian woman wearing dark clothing who speaks English well.” Before the helicopter arrived, the expedition was called off around 3am after it was discovered that THE WOMAN HAD BEEN ON THE BUS ALL ALONG AND HAD EVEN PARTICIPATED IN HER OWN SEARCH.

Here's what happened. During the walking portion of the tour, the woman changed her clothes and "freshened up," so her fellow tourists and the bus driver didn't recognize her and reported her missing. 

I do not understand this. Every tour I have ever been on does a head count, and this was a tour group of TEN. So there are ten people on the bus and everyone—EVERYONE—thinks someone is missing? Icelanders learn three languages in school: Icelandic, Danish, and English. These language lessons apparently supplant counting and math lessons. It’s called BALANCE, people. Give it a try.

This is just an example of people not paying attention. Not only was the tour group not able to recognize this woman wearing a different outfit, but THE WOMAN DIDN’T RECOGNIZE HERSELF in the description. Honestly, an Asian, 5’2” woman wearing dark clothing and speaking English well probably describes 5% of this world’s population. It fairly accurately describes approximately 40% of the Fu Household.

And can you blame her for not understanding what all this fuss is about? She’s SITTING RIGHT THERE ON THE BUS. She didn’t think she was missing and was probably worried sick about this poor woman who was lost. "It could've been me!" I can hear her lament.

How many Asian women do you think were at Eldga that day? According to the Iceland Monitor, Iceland hosts approximately 100,000 Asian tourists annually. The population of Iceland? About 350,000. So maybe Iceland really is teeming with fortune cookies on any given day.

I get mistaken for different Asian women around here all the time. There are lots of jokes about how all Asians look alike.

Chinese kid: “Dad, why do they say all Chinese people look alike?”

Chinese man: “I am not your dad.”

 

A white patron at a Chinese restaurant complained, “My Chinese waiter thinks all white people look alike! He gave my food to the wrong customer!”

“Oh, never mind. That wasn’t my waiter.”

 

Q: What do you call two Asian squids that look alike?

A: iTentacle

 

And that brings us to my last story about how iPhone face recognition can’t tell Asians apart. The New York Post published a story about a family in Shanghai in which the son was able to unlock his mom’s new iPhone X with his face. From a mom's perspective, it’s pretty cute when your kid looks like you, but I don’t know very many boys who want to look THAT much like their moms. Look at these two activating their Wonder Twin Powers.

And then there is the story about a couple of unrelated colleagues who could unlock each others’ iPhones. TBH, these two look an awful lot alike even to my Chinky Eyes. Maybe someone should call Maury Povich and get these two a 23andMe gift set for Christmas.

This is blowing my mind because Audrey got busted for trying to use my Costco card one time. This picture was taken more than 20 years ago and I was only about 10 years older than Audrey is now. She can’t buy an apple pie or toilet paper but hacking into my iPhone and compromising my Duolingo Diamond League status wouldn’t be a problem. That's mad whack.

We’re all learning to reevaluate priorities and decide what's worth our attention these days. I’m glad that you are all on this bus tour with me, my friends! Wishing you a happy Thanksgiving. Make sure you get yourself an adequate carving knife.

Thank you for reading!

 

Cut the Crap

 

You can’t believe everything you read, not even when Oprah recommends it. “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey was published in 2003. It was sold as the memoir of a 23-year old who is addicted to drugs and alcohol, recounting his struggles in life and rehab. I have always loved memoirs as a window into lives and experiences that are different from my own. It’s kind of like learning life lessons without having to flail through the actual circumstances. Does that count as cheating?

I felt so much admiration for the author and the challenges he worked through as a recovering addict. I shared an account from the book with Albert one night. Albert is a dentist. Some of his name plates say “Albert Fudds”

Anyhoo, Frey wrote about a dental visit where he refused anesthesia prior to receiving two root canals in order to protect his sobriety. Frey’s description of the pain he endured makes me cringe even as I remember reading the story 15 years later. Albert’s reaction? He scoffed.

OK, learning how to communicate successfully in a marriage is a JAY-OH-BEE, I tell you what! And Albert’s listening skills have improved significantly. But HOW ANNOYING! Albert didn’t even know my my new book-friend! How dare he mistrust this poor fellow after he has been through so much!

Me: “How can you say that? How do you know that’s not true?”
He: “Why would any dentist do that?”
Me: “Because he doesn’t want narcotics. He wants to stay sober.”
He: “There’s no narcotic in the anesthetic. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Not a week after I finished reading this memoir, Frey was outed by “The Smoking Gun” for literary forgery and the book was reclassified as a semi-fictional novel. Now I was REALLY MAD. First Albert was so critical of my book causing me to question my gullibility AND NOW I FIND OUT HE WAS RIGHT??!!

Anthropologist Wade Davis’s book “Shadows in the Sun” tells a “well known account” of an old Inuit man who refused to leave his nomadic lifestyle and move into a Canadian settlement. Settlements are like the Native American reservations that we have in the US, basically a crappy deal for the folks who were there first.

His family was willing to move into the settlement, but the old man refused. In order to sway his decision, his family took away all of his tools. In the midst of a winter storm, the old man stepped out of the family igloo, dropped a dookie, and honed that steamer into a frozen blade which he sharpened with a spray of spit.

With that poop knife, the old man killed a dog and butchered it for meat. He used the dog’s ribcage to make a sled and used the dog’s hide to make a harness for another dog. Now this dude was set with grub, a new ride, and a frozen stink pickle. Buh-bye, settlement!

How many researchers would it take to find out if this story is true?

Number: Two.

Last year, a couple of scientists from Kent State cooked up a butt burrito to find out. One of them adopted an eight-day “arctic diet” which was high in protein and fatty acids. According to the study, he ate lots of beef, turkey, and salmon, with helpings of applesauce, mac and cheese, and butternut squash risotto like a legit Inuit from Italy.

The underwater sculptures were frozen to minus 58 degrees Fahrenheit, sharpened into brown blades with metal files, then tested on refrigerated pig hide. Would they make the cut? The scientist reported, “Like a crayon, it just left brown streaks on the meat.” Skid marks only. No slices.

That Inuit totally pranked the anthropologist, but I don't blame him. It’s so much fun to see how gullible people can be when they are so eager to learn about your culture. Here is a picture of the poop knife and the pork.

While researching this story, I learned that there is another, real type of poop knife that is used in modern-day America! A couple of years ago, a fellow wrote about his family of origin and the monstrous turds that would lay across the bowl and swirl round and round upon flushing. This happened often enough that the family kept a “poop knife” in the laundry room to chop the Kraken into more flushable pieces.

When the fellow was in his early twenties, he busted a giant grumpy at a buddy’s house and popped the door open to ask his friend to use his poop knife. Of course his friend didn’t know what a poop knife was. Nor did his wife when the fellow conveyed this story to her. She had been using that rusty knife in the utility closet to open Amazon boxes. You really must read the whole account here.

It’s surprisingly challenging to discern real from not-real these days, but I’m confident that we can flush out the truth together. Thank you for reading, my friends!

Surrender

 

First of all, thank GAWD I didn’t find a need to make poisonous noodle soup last week! That corn was still fermenting all the way until Friday when Philly was like, “Yo, hold my wooder ice, Jawn.” Lawdamighty, that was stressful. 

I’m a little bit grumpy that those swing states got so much attention like their votes counted more than any of ours did. They wouldn’t even BE swing states without the rest of us. They are like the dramatic sibling getting all the attention, and the reliable sibling being glossed over.. Whatever. I GUESS I’m glad I never got arrested, but…uhhhh…ONE of my sibilings has way better stories than I do. Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do? 

As relieved as I am that we have a new president, I’m disturbed and saddened by some of the rhetoric. Before the 2020 election, I felt a lot of conflict from opinions expressed by some of my dear friends who clearly support such a yucky president. These are people I love and admire. How can our opinions be so divergent? I decided to practice Radical Gratitude and incorporate a breathing meditation called tong-len into my days. I’m also challenging myself to ask more questions and also listen to opinions that are different from mine in an attempt to understand how these opinions developed. My Compassionate Warrior Boot Camp lessons teach me that connection is essential and the first step in offering understanding to those with whom we don’t agree.

But now that the election is over, attitudes from the other side are disturbing me as well, labelling Republicans as selfish, misogynistic, uncaring, racists. Is there such a thing as being racist against Republicans? Because the black-and-white severity makes it feel that way. 

This angry resistance, although completely understandable, is not helpful. In his book “Stillness Speaks,” Oprah’s buddy, Eckhart Tolle says, “Prejudice of any kind implies that you are identified with the thinking mind. It means you don't see the other human being anymore, but only your own concept of that human being. To reduce the aliveness of another human being to a concept is already another form of violence.” 

Did you get that? Prejudice of ANY KIND. Eckhart didn’t mention any stipulations for varying opinions about whether children should be separated from their parents or whether Black Lives Matter or why finding a place to pee in public places should be so difficult for certain people. To regard those 71 million people who voted red in 2020 as anything less than human beings just like you and me is, according to Eckhart, a form of violence. 

Eckart Tolle often presents a metaphor of being stuck in the mud. Fighting with the mud just makes things worse. “I can’t believe I’m stuck in the mud! I shouldn’t be in this situation!” 

So what are we supposed to do if not resist and fight back? Do we just take in the distasteful opinions of our fellow Americans? That passivity feels like a betrayal to myself AND not helpful in advancing the truth. You don’t just resign and say, “OK, I resign myself to being stuck in the mud. I’m not taking any action because I’m accepting what is.” You also don’t want to fool yourself by saying, “There’s nothing wrong with being stuck in the mud.” 

Eckhart presents the idea of surrender, fully recognizing the present moment without judgement. At first this may look like weakness, but this practice allows you to figure out what you really want to get out of the situation without the emotional negativity of anger, despair, or frustration. By accepting the situation, you can take positive action to get yourself out of the mud. The first step is not to complain about what is. 

And then what? I dunno. I am still working on the accepting and not complaining part. That is very hard work!! But I’m hopeful that we can all come together and take positive action to get our nation back on track. We need to take better care of each other, my friends. And we can only do that from a position of love and compassion, without wasting our energy fighting and judging those who don’t agree with us.

I’m starting small with people in my orbit. I hope you’ll join me. 

Thank you for reading! 

Use Your Noodle

 

Chinese people can be so strange. I understand that My People used to eat a lot of things out of necessity and to prevent waste. I appreciate the diversity of food that that my parents exposed us to. Some of it was delicious. My grandma used to make POTS of stewed chicken gizzards and hearts that we ate with toothpicks.

 

Some of the foods were not so delicious like the durian my dad goes all crazy over. Durian is a fruit from Malaysia where my dad grew up. It is covered in these aggressive thorns and it smells like poop. No joke. If a durian falls from a tree and strikes you, I bet you would die. Way worse than a coconut.

 

When I was a kid, my dad told me this origin story of durian. “One day the king was walking through the forest and he had to poo, so he stopped to poo and buried it after he was done. The next day in that same place, a durian tree grew. That is why the durian smells like poop and is called “the king of fruits.” No idea if this is a real story or if my crazy dad just made it up.

 

 

I didn’t even understand that the food we ate was strange until second grade when kids would make fun of the beef tongue sandwich I brought for lunch. White bread, little smear of mayo, and slices of tender beef tongue. Way better than peanut butter and jelly.

 

I tried snake soup in Hong Kong. It sounds cliché, but it tasted like chicken except it had a stinky, wild taste. I didn’t love it. Also in Hong Kong, my grandma searched for tiger penis so she could make soup for my dad. We had to stop at several apothecaries and there was lots of sideways negotiating because selling tiger penis is illegal. And I don’t remember where we were when my brother and I gawked at snakes being slit and drained of their blood. The snake blood was collected in shot glasses and served to patrons with a shot of liquor.

 

I love trying new foods just for kicks even if they are so yucky like the Tropickles we had in Florida last summer. But I draw the line at poisonous things like fugu and corn noodles. What the WHAT? Corn noodles? Yeah, I never heard of them either until last week when nine people from Northeast China died from eating them. 

This 12-person family shared a breakfast of “suantangzi,” which is a soup with thick noodles made from fermented cornmeal. It was homemade and stored in the freezer for a year. The problem is that grain fermentation can produce a toxin called bongkrekic acid, which can’t be washed off and is temperature resistant, so the toxin continued to be produced and concentrated in the freezer.

Whenever you eat a fermented corn dish, you know there's going to be some toxin which produces a magical tingly sensation on your tongue. The problem is that you have no idea whether there's enough of the toxin to make that your last meal. There's currently no antidote for bongkrekic acid poisoning. Once poisoned, the fatality rate is 40-100%. THIS NOODLE SOUP MUST BE VERY DELICIOUS.

Nine of the family members fell ill several hours after consuming the soup noodles. Eight members died within six days, and the ninth member died after 14 days. The three kids in the family refused to eat the noodles because they didn't like the taste. Good for them for not just following along for traditions sake! But also sorry the whole rest of your family died, kids. Look at this picture from the China Daily News. What's even the point of the picture on the left?

I hope that we will have a new president by the end of this Tuesday Fus-day. If not, I might make a big pot of fermented corn noodle soup if you want to come over and share.

Take good care of yourselves, my friends! No matter what happens with this election, we will all still have opportunities to make this world a better place. Thank you for reading.