Last summer, a friend of mine in Kansas got married. She had four bridesmaids: half-Asian me, a Korean, a Singaporean, and a half-Filipino/half-Japanese. We went to get our nails done at like eight in the morning so it was just the five of us in the nail salon. All the people working there were Vietnamese and once they found out which one of us was getting married, they immediately started calling her the great white one.
I miss my Asians. They’re so rude in such different ways than Americans, but they’re so much more polite and respectful in the things that matter. They get offended by completely different things and their jokes are legitimately funny, not just awkward or inappropriate stuff that requires a laugh just because talking about it makes you feel empowered. I miss being able to walk down a street by myself and feel completely safe.
I miss the green hills and the waterfalls. I miss the snapping wind in the fall and the whirlwind of orange and red it causes. I miss the white “yakuza” masks in the spring (which I can say because I don’t get hayfever) and the festival racks of Ultraman, Hello Kitty, Sailor Moon, and Doraemon plastic masks in the summer.
More than anything, I miss Asian food. I want to eat food that tastes like green tea and like cherry blossoms. I want to eat sweet red beans and mochi. I want to buy yakisoba and takoyaki in the summer and roasted sweet potatoes and chestnuts in the fall. I miss mont blanc and castella.
This is my 100th blog post. If you follow me, thanks for taking interest in my life. If you don’t follow me, I mainly fangirl about books and rant about life. If that sounds interesting, subscribe for more.