(TIA, by the way, is
also a medical acronym but really not applicable to this post.)
Of the
cities we visited in Vietnam, my favorite was Hoi An. The light and color, the lines and shapes,
the style and countenance—all mingle here to conjure an aesthetic jewel.
TIA!
The
evening after our cooking class caper—yes, that event also occurred in this
setting—Cindy and I booked appointments for massages at a spa down the road
from our hotel. Upon removing our
flip-flops at the spa entrance, we were ushered to sit on a couch the waiting
area. Within minutes two girls began
washing our feet in small plastic tubs full of water scented with herbs and
lime slices, and another brought us cups of tea. Now for me, tea—no matter the contents or
purported flavor—generally tastes like hot water flavored with leaves or grass
or twigs or some combination thereof, and milk, sugar, honey, and/or lemon fail
to render it drinkable beyond a sip or two.
Except for that apple tea served in Turkey, I am no fan of tea whatsoever!
Supposing I would just hand off my cup
to Cindy after she finished hers, I peered into the cup and took a whiff. Several small strips of something floated
below the surface, and the aroma wafting upwards was pleasantly spicy. “Ginger tea,” Cindy said. Curious, I took a sip; it was good—a gingery
kick and just enough sweet. I drank at
all. TIA!
After a
90-minute “Asian Style” massage—one of my top ten most amazing even if each of
my calves had screaming moments—I nestled back down on a sofa in the waiting
area and sipped on another cup of ginger tea while a girl figured up my
bill. The second cup tasted just as good as the first, if not more so. In that moment, Ginger tea joined apple
tea, and my tea list became two.
When I
returned to my home in Seoul, Korea, I conducted an Internet search on how one—especially
someone like me—could recreate ginger tea like the two I drank one evening in
Hoi An. I jotted down notes gathered
from several Internet recipes and suggestions and convinced myself I could
recognize fresh ginger in the produce section.
After all, TIA!
Now,
winter in Seoul is bitter. Whether snow
falls or not, temperatures drop and then insist on dwelling in the nether
regions for weeks. Twenties and thirties
signal a warming trend! This winter has
been especially brutal. The cold arrived
earlier and seems to plan on hanging out a while longer. We have also had more snow fall this winter
than the combined total of what fell during both of my first two winters here
put together. Honestly, though, I prefer
the days the snow falls: those days are actually
warmer, so to speak because snow does not fall when the temperature is too cold,
and, of course, there is something beautiful about falling snow.
This week
while grocery shopping, I remembered to look for fresh ginger. I found it and I purchased it. Today, after a night where temperatures
dropped to single digits once again, I brewed some ginger tea. The ginger part right I got right, but I
still need to experiment with how to replicate the right amount of sweet. I have time and place on my side in this
endeavor, though, because I am here and . . . TIA!
