Awakening my tastebuds in Thailand

in


It’s 7:19pm on Saturday, November 23. I’m writing this while flying back to Jakarta with my parents across the aisle from me.

We’re 30,000 feet in the air, watching the sun set over Malaysia. I just spent ten days traipsing around Thailand. This trip came together because a family member offered us her family’s timeshare. The available dates coincided perfectly with my dad’s birthday. Thailand wasn’t really on our radar, but I’d always wanted to go.

The opportunity and the timing was right so we booked our flights a few weeks ago. I’d spend two extra days in Bangkok before my parents arrived so I could run around town and explore on my own. I knew of some attractions in Thailand through friends who’ve visited before. I knew about its white sand beaches, amazing food, and fun shopping. I’ve had many aunties tell me to go with a nearly empty suitcase because there’d be so much fun stuff there to buy.

But what I’ll take most from our Thailand trip are the flavors. 

One of the reasons I love traveling internationally is how my tastebuds light up when I try new flavor combinations.

Nothing gets me more excited than when I travel to Mexico and Latin America and have the best tacos or ceviche of my life. To see the dozens of different types of corn and potatoes, or avocados the size of your head. Those are the memories I still hold onto.

Or when we get to visit friends in Vancouver and Montreal. Nothing tastes better than red wine and steak with friends at one of the many fancy restaurants, or a late-night poutine after drinking too many martinis. Our recent trip to India opened my eyes to incredible spice blends, chutneys, and sweet milk cakes that I still dream about. Food seems to taste better when a passport stamp is part of the journey ;)

The flavors, textures, colors, and smells of Asian food are in a league of their own. Obviously, living in America, I have my favorite places for legit Cantonese dim sum, or Thai noodles from the local place we’ve been going to for years.

Thai Tea concoctions purchased at the source. Nothing gets better than sipping on some cold tea on a hot day in Bangkok.

But nothing compares to going to the birthplace of these dishes to make your mouth and soul light up.

The November weather in Thailand was no joke. To think that we we’re going during a time when it’s less hot and humid was nearly unnoticeable. It rained a lot while we were there, like monsoonal torrential rain for one to two hours each day. The rain was actually a relief, briefly cooling down the city before the heat returned. Most days we stayed inside during the peak heat, oftentimes finding ourselves wandering luxury malls, inevitably ending up in the basement food court or buzzing restaurants.

One of the many snippets from the night markets in Bangkok

I can honestly say I never had a bad meal in Thailand. From mall bakeries and street food to oceanfront seafood markets and Michelin-starred spots, everything I ate was unreal. I knew that there were a lot of award-winning restaurants in Bangkok, and I was eager to book a reservation, but I found just as much joy walking through its bustling streets, snacking along the way.

Skewers of meat, fresh fruit, seafood, noodles, curries, and rice dishes—my Asian-bred tastebuds were in heaven. I took small bites everywhere, essentially turning every day into a progressive meal. Thai teas, delicate pastries, endless noodles, and curries became my routine.

Sweet little bites from the food court in Bangkok

I’m fairly certain I took at least a half dozen photos of every meal I had. I tasted all of the local favorites and took 500+ photos of food alone.

My camera ate first at every meal, of course. It’s an unspoken rule among foodies, especially Asian Americans like me. There’s something so beautiful about food—the composition, colors, and steam rising from a dish—that begs to be photographed before even knowing what it’ll taste like. My phone now holds a gallery delicious reminders of every bite imprinted on my phone just to show off later.

It’s a weird concept, but this photo gallery is absolute food porn for people like me.

As an Asian American, I think I’m the only person in my friend group who snacks just about every three hours. I’m excited to plan my next meal, and I’m even more excited to think about what I’ll cook next.

Since traveling the world so much these last few years, I’ve grown to love learning how to make my favorite Asian dishes once I’m home. I’ll get hyper fixated on a dish I’ve eaten while traveling, and then learn how to cook it with all of the special sauces and spices I’ve brought back.

In Phuket, I had the genius idea to take a cooking class. I wanted to meet some locals, check out a market, and learn to cook Thai dishes.

Taking a cooking class while traveling might be my new favorite thing to do. I found Phuket Thai Cooking Class with VJ through my Marriott Bonvoy app. I was looking for a class that offered a market tour to see where some of the ingredients were sourced.

I arrived at VJ’s and waited for the rest of the class to arrive. We hopped in the van and drove just a few minutes down the road to a local market where we learned about herbs and vegetables we’d use during class. We tried local fruit (I had the best pineapple and longan there) and I bought some local chili oil, which would be the base of many dishes to come.

Our guide showed us around the market a bit before we went back to the classroom to start prepping Tom Yum Soup, Shrimp Pad Thai, Red Curry, and Mango Sticky Rice.

We put on our aprons and learned about the herbs and vegetables we’d use. Kaffir lime, galangal, and lemongrass were never things I cooked with before so I loved how our teacher walked us through how to prep each item.

Cooking with a wok—now at the top of my shopping list—made everything lightning fast. We started prepping shallot, garlic, and other aromatics, along with chili peppers picked up from the market.

I was never a huge fan of Tom Yum Soup back at home, but after making it from scratch, I’m a convert. From the fresh kaffir lime leaves to the lemongrass stalks, now that I know how it’s supposed to taste, I totally get it. The American version of the soup always tasted too sour for me, but now that I know that tamarind, fishy chili oil, and coconut milk are the main components, I know how to make it the real way.

The soup turned out amazing and took no more than five minutes to make. We started prepping the sticky rice for dessert we’d have later, just before prepping the ingredients for our Pad Thai.

I’m normally a Pad See Ew kind of a girl, and leave it up to someone else at the table to order it, but now that I’ve cooked fresh Pad Thai on my own, I absolutely cannot wait to try and cook it once I’m back home.

From the charred-flavored meats and tofu, to the perfect mix of tamarind, fish sauce, oyster sauce, palm sugar, pickled radish, and chilis, I totally understand why this is the most popular noodle dish to come out of Thailand. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking Chang beers, while swapping stories with other students about their travels. The cooking class attendants were fantastic, even helping me when I didn’t get my curry paste to the right consistency (probably because I was taking too many pics instead of grinding out all of the ingredients). I had such a blast and would 100% recommend everyone take a cooking class while traveling abroad.

My tastebuds feel alive again—call it a culinary awakening. I don’t know about my other fellow Americans, but not only has food gotten stupid expensive, but it just doesn’t taste all that good. It feels uninspired.

Grocery-store produce has started to look a little sad lately, and our local restaurants have been disappointing. Armed with new recipes, I can’t wait to show off my new knowledge.

My mom will be the first one to tell you that I never liked Asian food when I was a kid. She’d work a whole day at the office, come home and make a giant bowl of stir fried noodles and a saucy chicken to go with it. And I’d be the idiot who’d say she’d prefer fettuccine alfredo and garlic bread instead. 

Times have changed. I’m fully embracing my roots. Even Andy is getting so much better and using chopsticks and upping his spice level.

We’re about 45 minutes away from landing back in Jakarta where we’ll celebrate my dad’s birthday. Next week we’re headed to Bali for a couple weeks to catch up with family and friends. I’ll also be wedding venue hunting!

It hasn’t fallen short on me that I’m so incredibly lucky to have this free time to travel right now. My home country is a little rocky right now and I’m so happy to be here in Asia spending time with family and experiencing things from my mom’s home country. The holidays are right around the corner and I’m looking forward to a tropical, even monsoonal Christmas.

Me in my happy place. Sorry, shrimpie

If I have it my way, our holiday dinners will feature my Pad Thai and Tom Yum Soup.

Ok, but where are you really from?

It’s November 7, the day after the American election. I’m sitting in my room at my Aunt’s house nursing a cold, which I can imagine happened after all of my world traveling.

I’ve been in Jakarta for five days. It feels like home here. I’ve seen a lot of cousins so far and managed to eat amazing Indonesian food each day.

I’ve caught up some with family members, told them about our travels to India and what’s been going on in my life since I was here last year. I’m making future plans to visit Bali and pondering all of the possibilities for our upcoming nuptials.

Life, while a little loud and chaotic, feels normal here. I’m finding a routine while still adjusting to being in the southern hemisphere.

I’m honoring the promise I made to myself on my last trip here and am learning at least one new Bahasa word. People automatically speak Indonesian to me here, and while I know mostly the topic they’re talking about, my vocabulary is limited.

I took a yoga class at a super hip studio the other day. The teacher spoke Bahasa about 90% of the time. I picked it up pretty quickly and listened out for the Sanskrit word for each of the poses to follow along when I couldn’t see her.

I secretly love that recognizing the name of yoga poses in Sanskrit helps tremendously when I take a yoga class in a different country.

Regardless of where I am in Indonesia, and now even in India, I feel like it’s easier for me to blend in.

People watching is one of my favorite things to do in this world. I love to look outside the window when I’m in a rideshare and admire life happening around me. I love hearing people’s conversations around me; I can’t help but notice things happening.

Through conversations these last few weeks while traveling, I’ve come to the self-imposed conclusion that I’m a “child of the world.”

Ok, bear with me.

Yes, I am my mother’s daughter who was born in Jakarta, Indonesia and appreciates the finer things in life. And yes, I am my father’s daughter who was born on the island of Guam and lives life daringly.

And as I travel more, I love that my nearly 6 years of learning Spanish and ordering food in Spanish at Mexican restaurants has allowed me to feel more comfortable speaking while traveling through Mexico and other Latino countries.

I love that people mistook me for Indian when we traveled through Hyderabad and Jaipur. It made me want to learn a few Hindi phrases to take advantage of it! I love that I’m diving deep into Indonesian culture and learning ways to converse with locals.

I learn how to say thank you and good morning in each of the countries I visit. I believe the act of trying to speak a country’s language will get you further than if you’re just one of “those Americans” who travel to foreign countries and just speak louder and slower when trying to get what they want while traveling abroad.

There are moments I love being an American. But all the more recently, I wish to be a citizen of the world.

Being brown and living in America has had its ups and downs. It was fun growing up in Southern California and being the “exotic” friend. At the same time, there was a big part of me that always wanted to be like my white friends when I was a young girl.

I always wanted American snacks in my lunch pail as a kid; I relate to so many things that Asian comedians say about what it’s like growing up white washed. I lost a lot of my Asian identity trying to fit in with the cool kids.

More recently, I noticed how being brown in my 30s in the Bay Area made me a topic of conversation. Feeling like the diversity hire is a whole other topic, but I want to talk about what it was like being in my 30s and having nearly every ride share driver ask me where I was from.

I had the luxury of treating myself to a Lyft or Uber ride while living in the Bay. I loved taking the bus or the BART, but when I needed to get places, I spent the extra cash for the convenience.

It felt like every other ride, the driver would look at my in the rear view mirror, ask me about my name, and then start commenting on my physical features.

It usually went like this:

Me: I get into the strangers car, usually with my arms full of shopping bags or my yoga mat. “Ride for Nadia?” I’d usually say.

Him: “Yup” he’d say while I’d see his eyes peer at me from the rear view mirror.

Small talk probably happened for a moment or two.

Him: “Nadia. That’s a nice name.” They’d usually tell me they knew of someone with my name, a sister or old friend from wherever their home country was.

“Where are you from?” They’d always ask, as I could feel their eyes dart around.

Me: “Oh, I grew up in Southern California.”

Him: “But your parents? They’re American?”

Then depending on how comfortable I felt, I’d tell them a bit about where my folks are from.

Him: “Ok, but where are you really from?”

I kid you not, I went through this spiel every other ride. It felt like once a week, I’d have to explain myself—why my eyes and nose looked the way it did, why I had such a dark and unique complexion.

“Was anyone else getting this treatment?” I’d ask myself. Maybe it was just the girls experiencing these truly hellish, invasive moments.

Being the person I am, I’d always give these men the benefit of the doubt. Some of these drivers were also non-Americans so I heard countless stories of their upbringing in Ghana, Palestine, India, the Middle East, Russia, and everywhere in between. It was fun, until it wasn’t.

There were times, maybe after a few too many happy hour-priced martinis, when I didn’t want to explain myself, so when asked the question, I’d have the perfect, snarky response:

“Oh, I’m from Planet Earth. Where are you from?”

It usually shut them up, but now that I’m thinking about it, maybe that’s why my ride share scores dropped so much while living in the Bay.

I’ve always known I was the “other”. It’s obvious. Try going through life being asked to check just one box when it comes to your ethnicity or race.

Was I just Asian? I’m not 100% so that didn’t fit. I couldn’t check Hispanic or Latino. Sometimes I was lucky and chose both Pacific Islander and Asian if the questionnaire allowed it. Then it just got to the point where I’d check “Other”.

But today, I am embracing my otherness. At the age of 40, I’m noticing my Caucasian friends aging quicker than me. I’m proud of my daily skincare routine, but I don’t have to work that hard to look young. People still ask if I’m in college and now I just say yes and tell them I’m a student of life. I’m trying to see how many times I can get away with telling strangers I’m only 26.

When people ask me where I’m from, I’ll gladly tell them if I feel comfortable with them. How many other people have you met in the world who can say they’re Indonesian, Chinese, Guamanian, Spanish and Filipino?

I’d like to meet that person one day.

My brother and I…we’re anomalies. There’s no one out there like us with our genetic makeup. (And if there’s a Chindo Chamorrita reading this, please definitely do slide into my DMs. I’d love to swap stories.)

I can go on a whole tangent about what it’s like to be a brown woman in America right now. But I’ll save it for another post.

Where am I really from?

What does it matter? Is my face and body so disfigured to a man’s gaze that they need to understand my genetic makeup in order to still feel powerful? Is my body shape and the size of my eyes and nose so distracting to the average man? And why hasn’t a woman ever asked me this question?

Women would rather compliment my outfit or my lipstick before ever leading a conversation bothering about my lineage.

I know that I’m a special little star that appeared on this planet in this exact moment. There are days where I like to tell off old men who are being creepy and there are days when I embrace how unique I am.

I may be exotic, but I am not some science experiment to figure out.

And that’s why I love traveling Asia. People ask me about me because they’re curious. Their tone is different and there’s an inherent curiosity because we’re exchanging culture and stories about ourselves.

Why do men in America….

Actually, it’s not even worth wasting my thoughts and time finishing that sentence.

So I leave you with this, if you’re reading this and you feel like the “other” too, embrace it. Take it by its culturally-ambiguous unicorn horn and show off how cool and different you are. Be proud that you look so different than everyone in your friend group, and shine like the star you are.

If we were all the same, what could we actually learn from each other?

Allow me to re-introduce myself

Hi, hello and welcome. This page has been dormant since the start of COVID. Life has been weird and exhilarating since my last post in March 2020.

I moved out of the Bay Area and now split my time between two cities I love. I’ve experienced loss in various forms. I’ve gained memories and experiences across the world with strangers who I now call friends.

And more recently, I’ve started a brand new journey. The title of it is still to come, but what I’m about to do over the next 90 days is something I’ve dreamed about for years.

Since getting laid off this past August, I’ve re-established my ideas on success, what it looks like, and how I intend to spend my newly found free time.

I’ve been given this amazing gift of freedom, a supporting and loving base of humans in my life, and the ability to continuously remain in the present.

Over the last two months of unemployment I’ve spent time lounging around with my dogs, I’ve caught up with old friends, I’ve organized my living spaces, and I’ve spent time volunteering. These are the things I missed the most when I was so caught up in weekly deadlines, quarterly performance reports, and back-to-back meetings.

Over the last 19 years, I’ve found so much success in my career and professional life that I lost touch with what actually makes me happy vs. what I’m good at doing.

At this moment, it’s 5:45am and I’m sitting in my room in Hyderabad, India. I’m surrounded by my favorite travel things, about to spend some time traveling Asia with family, and I get to start each morning asking myself what I want to do and how I want to spend my time.

That is a gift that 10 years in the corporate world would never permit.

My intention is to get back to travel writing again. Nadia Wanders is such a beautiful outlet for me, and it’s time to start reinvesting in it.

So, follow me along as I travel this wonderful, chaotic world.

Careers and Cannabis: Setting intentions on this magical 11/11 day

in , ,

In an effort to figure out what I want in my next career, I started offering pro bono work to get myself “back in the saddle” so to speak. I’ve spent the last five years writing for a big corporate company and I have missed writing meaningful, long-form content about something that matters to me.

For the last five years, I’ve been taken care of as an employee and have fully experienced the “corporate life.” The flexibility my company gives me is priceless, but I miss managing my own relationships with clients.

I miss working for a small business owner – where we’d chat over the phone, figure out what their business goals and brand voice were, and craft their story. I’ve been interviewing in San Francisco for about a year now. I’ve had dozens of conversations with recruiters; nailed down my elevator pitch of who I am, where I’ve been, and what I want next; I made it to the final interview stages with Slack and Abstract just to find out that someone else outperformed me.

After interviewing and not finding the right company that would pay me what I’m worth or offered a role that actually interested me, I decided to take back my career. Where my current gig allows me to have the lifestyle I want, I want my side hustle to inspire me again.

For my first pro bono client, I wanted to find a local, female-owned business that I could offer content writing and consulting. I wanted to find a brand I already loved. I wanted to offer my time in the form of web page optimization, newsletter writing, and content strategy.

My first client was Psychic Medium, Astrologer, and lovely lady behind Ghost of a Podcast, Jessica Lanyadoo. I’ve been helping her with content since mid-summer and am happy to say that she’s now a paying client ;) I learned how to communicate my expertise and how it could apply to her work and content needs.

In my next chapter, I want a creative content writing job in the cannabis industry. I brought on Dee Dussault, founder of Ganja Yoga, as my latest pro bono client. My thinking was that before I fully enter the cannabis industry, I’d like to show up to interviews with a portfolio of content I’ve already created in the space.

I had a high-dea one day that I’d craft my own version of a cannabis writing internship where I could offer my content expertise and ideas in exchange for some real-life practice to learn a bit about the industry from a wise sage.

Dee and I are currently working together and I’m so excited to see where it takes us.

---

I went to my first yoga class in 2007. I moved home after college and one of my SDSU friends invited me to a yoga class at our local gym. I was intrigued by this form of exercise and I moved and stretched in ways that I never had in a cardio or pilates class. And for the past 12 years, I’ve showed up to yoga to not only to sweat and move, but to be mindful of my breath, body and thoughts.

I started smoking weed before yoga classes not too long ago and since then, my practice has totally changed. My connection to spirit and the voice inside me awakens when I smoke and practice. I can breathe life into the parts of my body that are in pain. I can find gratitude in all that is around me even when my mind is anticipating worst possible scenarios in every life situation.

When my brain is overthinking, I can process and leave those issues and negative thoughts on my mat because I can see clearly after a really heart-opening class. My yoga practice is like my religion. It’s my community and I can be whatever I want in a safe space.

In a recent yoga class, our instructor asked us to set the intention of baring witness to our own practice and to be proud of whatever level we were at that day. I’ve seen how much my practice and my actual human experience has grown in the last 12 years. Because yoga allows me to quiet my brain for those 60 minutes, I return to my mat every week to check in with myself and release.

---

Dee has been teaching yoga classes and leading teacher trainings that are enhanced with the use of cannabis. Whether in the form of topicals, edibles, smoke, or vape, students come together to hang, share a smoke sesh, and practice a slow and restorative yoga class. I first learned about Ganja Yoga when my man and I went to this cannabis yoga class and I’ve been following ever since.

I went to Dee’s 10-year anniversary party in Oakland this past month. I got a sense of the yoga community that she’s cultivated. I got caught up in the haze of chatting with strangers and sunbathing on the patio. Her restorative class and the plumes of smoke I enjoyed before class allowed me to listen to my body and my heart. Her class was complete with an amazing sound bath that took my senses to another dimension.

“You’ve come so far. You’ve healed. Look at how far you’ve come since then,” my soul told me as my body sunk into the floor beneath me.

You can’t walk out of a ganja yoga class without feeling lighter and like you filled your own cup.

---

As I’ve been researching Dee and her Ganja Yoga business to help craft my content, I discovered that one of her yoga teach alums, Brittany, taught a weekly class in Oakland. I treated myself to a ticket and was excited to practice again.

I walked into the space -- an ad agency by day and cannabis-friendly art and event space by night and weekend. The sweetest man named Sam greeted me and asked if this was my first time doing ganja yoga. We exchanged words for a few minutes before I made my way up to the third floor of an old building overlooking Telegraph Ave below and across the street from the stunning Fox Theater.

Views from Ganja Yoga in Oakland

Views from Ganja Yoga in Oakland

There were a few people smoking outside, others were setting up their mat and chatting with friends inside. It was a foggy-turned-sunny autumn day in downtown Oakland. The friends sitting next to my right were rolling an impressive joint and about to start a Cat Tarot spread. Intrigued, I watched on in awe. The couple down the table from me were chatting and giggling and the others sitting across from me were having an insightful conversation about cannabis and life.

These are my people. No judgement. Just love and community.

I sipped some tea and we passed around joints and got to know each other. We came from all walks of life. Ages, ethnicities, interests. At the core, we were a group of people who carved out a few hours of their Saturday to smoke, gather among friends, and practice yoga.

Brittany eventually started class and offered the intention of taking notice of the things in life we are resisting. So often, a yoga instructor will start a class with mindful breathing and intention setting. Since incorporating weed into yoga, I’ve experienced a deeper understanding of intention, my body and mind.

I am an over-thinker in all waking hours. Always thinking about the stupid thing I said on a conference call. Or thinking about my next vacation with the love of my life. Or thinking about what to pick up for dinner. I often find myself thinking for my future self and yoga has helped me get back to present. Yoga quiets my mind so that I can become one with my breath. It’s an amazing feeling and keeps me coming back to my mat every week.

Brittany led us through a beautiful flow, with a few laughs in between poses, while sprinkling in things to reflect.

Since deepening my yoga practice with cannabis, I’ve started closing my eyes during the first few poses of a yoga class. It lets me listen in and pay attention to what my body’s telling me and where it’s holding stress and anxiety. It shows me where to release.

I distinctly remember coming out of meditation and opening my eyes after what felt like 20 minutes in child’s pose. My mat was near the door to the deck where everyone was hanging out before class.

My eyes opened up to a handwritten note on a whiteboard outside:

“Be gentle with yourself.”

Be gentle with yourself. I started to tear up. After meditating on the things I was resisting the moments before, I knew the universe and voice inside me was telling me everything was going to be OK.

It’s in these moments of clarity and encouragement that it’s been reinstated that I’m on the right path. That all of the wants and choices I had in the past have led me to where I am today. It’s these yoga instructors that bring together a collective to not only have a shared experience, but to be present with ourselves.

It’s why getting closer to myself and my experience has been terrifying but exhilarating. It’s because I know I’m capable of anything I want.

---

When I was in my mid-20s working as an Editor-in-Chief of some fancy digital magazine in San Diego, I wanted to leave that job and I told myself that one day I’d be one of the voices behind a big American brand. I’m doing that today. I accomplished that goal. And now I’m ready to take on more.

The time and energy that I’ve set aside to take on pro bono clients has been striking. I have a perspective. I have an expertise. I have a voice and a strategy. I’m not afraid of what comes next.

I saw Jenny Slate perform a reading from her new book “Little Weirds” last night. Before she read her final piece and last chapter of the book, she said that while dealing with the aftermath of life, she wrote the book in order to heal and soothe herself. What a beautiful reminder that our creativity can be an outlet for healing and figuring out what we want next.

As she read the last pages of her book with the intentions she had for her future self, I leave you with this.

You will carve your own way. You will communicate your needs and desires. You will write creatively and not be afraid. You will make what you love your reality.