TIA--This Is Asia: Vietnam, Korea, and Ginger Tea

Apparently, Leonardo DiCaprio said “TIA” a lot in Blood Diamond—a movie I never saw—but I stumbled on the acronym while reading reviews of various hotels located in Phu Quoc, Vietnam.  The reviewer acknowledged its more accepted interpretation—“This Is Africa”—but then added that it explicates an acceptance of the Asian cultures, circumstances, and situations as well and could just as fittingly mean “This Is Asia!”  For the here and now of this particular space, it expresses THIS IS ASIA! 

(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!