Karen's Blog

Let's take a walk through a brand new day.

There’s no place like…

Traveling in Southeast Asia was new experience for me and one I totally embraced from the minute I walked off the plane.  The smells were different.  The people looked different.  The actions were different.  The food was different.  Sanitation was different.  Even the toilets were different.  I embraced it all.  Well… maybe not the toilets.

But, as I reflect back on all the beautiful memories from the countries of Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Malaysia and Singapore, I find myself missing some elements of the journey.

I miss the humbleness of the Cambodian people.

I miss the hustle of the Vietnam business people.

I miss Thailand’s gorgeous beaches.

I miss the pristine look and efficiency of Singapore.

I miss the honesty of the Malaysian people.

I miss the simplicity of the villages.

I miss the incredible hospitality of the Southeast Asian people.

And, miraculously, I miss the food.

My friends who know me well know that I am not an adventurous eater.  I love to taste all foods but tend to eat more traditional foods.  Since I’ve been home, I’ve found myself craving the tastes and smells that I became accustomed to during my visit. I’ve delved into my brain to try to determine “why?” and I think I’ve come up with an answer.  Everything was so fresh!  The vegetables and fruits were picked and brought to market each day. Restaurants frequented the markets. Locals came to the market twice daily, and leftovers from the market were dried or jellied or pickled.  Then the “fresh” routine began again the next day.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve eaten many of the same foods and they just don’t taste the same.  Bananas, cherries, and pineapples were sweeter, vegetables more flavorful and crisper, and bread was less prevalent. Shopping each day in a village market with fresh fruits and vegetables made a difference in the food we ate. That realization took me back to my childhood when my uncles and aunts would share fresh fruits and vegetables just picked from the fields that day. They were so good!  I miss that.

Even though I miss the food and have fond memories of my journey, I must admit that it is good to be home.

I missed my husband.

I missed my daughter.

I missed my bed.

I missed my friends.

I missed the sameness.

I missed the routines.

I missed America.

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. Home! Home! sweet, sweet Home”… Words: David Denham, 1837






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