Drag Queens, Drama Queens, and an Unbearable Cold

The stars must not have been aligned correctly for this. If I had gone to see one of those fortune tellers in Korea, she probably would have told me NOT to travel in March. It probably wasn't meant to be and perhaps I could have found a wife back home in Dallas. Nonetheless, I ignored the signs, took them as challenges, and made my way to the Spanish gateway to the rest of Europe.

I started with 4 tickets to see the Scissor Sisters in Dallas the night before my departure to NYC. A 4th could not be found, the 3rd had a death in the family, and the 2nd had a last minute cancellation. And the cheese stood alone. So dilemma #1: should I stay or should I go...to the Scissor Sisters? A day spent desperately trying to sell my tickets on craigslist left me with a suitcase to pack and many things still left to buy. Guess who decided to get in the middle of a drag queen sandwich instead of getting a good night's sleep? Ok, so it wasn't a drag queen SANDWICH but some of them got awfully close while trying to get to the front of the stage. I never understood the appeal there. Is there NOT supposed to be appeal? Is that the irony? I have enough trouble worrying about my mohawk on a windy day.

GRIPS?? As in, grips it and doesn't let go? A blessing in disguise, my flight was cancelled and I spent the day catching up on errands. Errands I had somehow created in preparation for my trip to Spain. This was supposed to be my bout of spontaneity. Spontaneous people don't obsess over which guide book to buy, which shoes to bring, and which ties are necessary for a night out. I also had a slight panic attack after reading the deluge of websites warning of gypsies and pickpockets. No drag...just a lot of drama. Unnecessary drama.

3 days with no sleep, a winter storm, and I end up on my Swissair flight as the SICK one. I DESPISE the sick one. The guy who fidgets in his seat and coughs into his hand. Yeah, some good that does in covering up the germs. That flight was just an incubator for my grossness. Travellers to Zurich, Switzerland, please accept my apologies. And now I sit and flood my insides with hot water at night. I need to get better for this weekend. A swedish guy just moved in and he's really into "house". DEEP house. And he says it just like Arnold Schwarz. I love it.

Pictures soon!

The OTHER other white meat

I never really had a problem with spam. That is, until I publicly professed my love for it and became the object of disdain among my peers circa high school. Was it because spam was "allegedly" meat from a can? Well I always considered it a step up from the equally delectable Vienna sausages. And the Viennese have good taste, no? Afterall, Mozart's from Vienna.

Whatever the reason, I came to hate spam. I hated the idea of spam and the fact that you had to blot cooked spam with paper towels before even THINKING about touching it with a fork. But coming back to Korea, I've realized that I never stopped loving the smell of it and of course...the taste of it.

It's a funny thing, spam. An offshoot of ham, perhaps, but "sp"? What gives? Do those letters stand for "special"? "Spanish"? "Sparkling"? I suppose I could always just look at the ingredients list on the can, but I think it's better not to know, kind of like a hot dog weiner. And I also never knew how it could be prepared as displayed on the label. My mom always just sliced it up and put it in the frying pan (note the above procedure of paper towel blotting). Spam definitely wasn't prime rib in the Park house, but it was substantial. I think it makes quite a swell companion to white rice. Then again, what doesn't.

On the Lunar New Year, it's customary for businesses to give their employees some sort of gift. I saw men in business suits taking home boxes of juice, others with fruit. We at Hoyah Academy received gourmet olive oil. And of course, there were businessmen with boxes of spam. Decorative boxes. With handles. That included multiple cans of spam.

Nobody frowns upon spam here in Korea. Again, it's no prime rib, but it's not the laughing stock of the "so-called" meats. Nobody cares that it's not kosher, and quite frankly, I don't even think anyone cares that spam is an amalgam of....well, I guess nobody really knows the answer to that. Spam is just spam, and the Koreans let it be.

I don't think my taste buds have danced so happily in quite some time. My aunt prepares fried spam for me every now and then. I think it's because they have a spam gift set and no one else in the family cares too much for it. Could it be that I'm enjoying the spam for old time's sake? I guess I'll just have to find out come 20 years or so from now. Anyone care to join me? I'll supply the paper towels.