I know the idea of red bean in a dessert form is weird, especially if this is the first time you are hearing this seemingly utter non-sense creation. I first had in when I was in middle school on a scorching hot summer day of Yangon. Honestly, I felt quit uneasy when my aunt handed to me a big cup of red bean gloop stirred with ice cubes. But, once I took a bite there was no turning back. The combination of natural sweetness and the earthiness of the red bean when reincarnated in a dessert form, was uniquely addicting.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
I am going back to my hometown Yangon in a week. It seems unreal to me that I have been in the United States for 8 years. Seriously, 8 freaking years? Like I said in my IG post before, I have always wondered when I will become more American than Burmese. The other day I woke up, tripped and blurted out “Jesus Christ” rather than “ Lord Buddha”. I guess this is it. I am officially more American than Burmese. But, I have to admit though even before this life-defining moment happened, there were instances that served as warning signs. Below are a few:
Sunday, January 8, 2017
When I was little, my mother used to call me “hay fire”. When you light up a hay straw, it burns so brightly but only for a few seconds, until the whole hay straw turned into powder. Apparently, I was like that – I would randomly pick up a hobby or a toy, and be completely obsessed with whatever I chose for a brief moment. On time, I asked my parents incessantly for a watercolor set – one of those with 48 different colors that every artsy-fartsy child in Yangon wanted. I played it for two days, shoved it at a room corner until the set collected dust beyond recognition. From what I can tell as a kid, that habit was less than desirable. My grades would fluctuate from very good to bad in a matter of weeks up until middle school. My teachers were confused. I was confused as well.