Ignorance And Bliss
The weather this weekend was just amazing.
We've earned it after an entire season of getting soaked. I can feel it. The air has that "warmer" fragrance, charged with sunlight and blooming plants, just like the way that fabrics laid out in the sun have that distinctive smell of freshness. With this, I also feel the pressure from Mother Nature/God to get fit and shape up sooner or skip the beach altogether.
Speaking of getting fit, today was also the annual Vancouver Sun Run, a 10k run through downtown sponsored by our local newspaper, the Vancouver Sun. My friends wanted me to join them, but there is no way I have the stamina to even run to the fridge to get a slice of cheese, let alone run 10 km. So I opted to give them moral support from the distance of my home.
This year, like pretty much all other years, the winners of the Sun Run for both the men's and women's categories were from Africa, Kenya this time. I asked my mom if she noticed how it's always African people that win first place in the Sun Run.
"Of course! They get so fast from chasing all the animals around when they hunt in Africa!"
I was horrified, and also guilty for finding myself suppressing laughter at such an ignorant and silly comment. Fortunately, we were at home. I immediately warned my mom that she can't say those kinds of things.
Don't misunderstand my mom. She isn't maliciously racist; she actually thought what she said was true. Even if it is somewhat true, I don't think it's a very pleasant stereotype. I'm sure at some point in our lives, our parents will say something racially outrageous. You don't have to be a first generation; as long as your parents grew up and lived in a monocultural clique, chances are they will know nothing about other cultures. Ironically, this can be the case regardless of your race.
Feeling sure that my mom will exercise caution when opining in public, I decided to spend the rest of the lovely Sunday doing what anyone without available friends or a life would do - hang out at the greenhouses of home gardening shops. I first became interested in plants and home gardening when I moved into this house. The contractor that was hired by my home's developer did a fraudulently crappy job at landscaping the property, so me and my mom had to spend a summer doing some heavy gardening to overhaul the flora.
I find the fresh air and the quiet atmosphere to be quite relaxing at home gardening shops, other than the clamor of bored kids wheeling themselves around in plant carts waving cacti around. The variety of plants grown there are actually pretty cool by my geeky standards. This time, however, I also had a specific purpose for going there. I was looking for a particular plant - the Fragrant Olive, known as Osmanthus fragrans var. aurantiacus to horticultural nerds.
When I first arrived in Japan six years ago, it was during the fall. While exploring the streets of my town, a sudden waft of sweet, seductive fragrance captured my heart and has not released it since. It was later that I learned, from a Japanese teacher at a school I taught at, that the aroma came from a plant called kinmokusei in Japanese, a wonderul smelling member of the olive family. I have been looking for it ever since I came back to North America, hoping that a potted specimen would bless my room with its natural perfume.
Fuck Glade, this is the real shit.
So it would figure that a plant I covet so much is not available at any store that I went to. On the advice of one staffer I talked to, the plant would probably be in stock during the fall, when it blooms.
Well I can't wait that long. I want to acquire my fragrant olive before it blooms, so that I can enjoy the plant in all of its olfactory glory, through the tragically brief lifetime of the scent it grants me each year. Since I need a plant in my room anyway, I might as well get it now. An inquiry with the Botanical Department of UBC would perhaps be the solution.
At least I'll be able to run faster from chasing all those botanists around.
We've earned it after an entire season of getting soaked. I can feel it. The air has that "warmer" fragrance, charged with sunlight and blooming plants, just like the way that fabrics laid out in the sun have that distinctive smell of freshness. With this, I also feel the pressure from Mother Nature/God to get fit and shape up sooner or skip the beach altogether.
Speaking of getting fit, today was also the annual Vancouver Sun Run, a 10k run through downtown sponsored by our local newspaper, the Vancouver Sun. My friends wanted me to join them, but there is no way I have the stamina to even run to the fridge to get a slice of cheese, let alone run 10 km. So I opted to give them moral support from the distance of my home.
This year, like pretty much all other years, the winners of the Sun Run for both the men's and women's categories were from Africa, Kenya this time. I asked my mom if she noticed how it's always African people that win first place in the Sun Run.
"Of course! They get so fast from chasing all the animals around when they hunt in Africa!"
I was horrified, and also guilty for finding myself suppressing laughter at such an ignorant and silly comment. Fortunately, we were at home. I immediately warned my mom that she can't say those kinds of things.
Don't misunderstand my mom. She isn't maliciously racist; she actually thought what she said was true. Even if it is somewhat true, I don't think it's a very pleasant stereotype. I'm sure at some point in our lives, our parents will say something racially outrageous. You don't have to be a first generation; as long as your parents grew up and lived in a monocultural clique, chances are they will know nothing about other cultures. Ironically, this can be the case regardless of your race.
Feeling sure that my mom will exercise caution when opining in public, I decided to spend the rest of the lovely Sunday doing what anyone without available friends or a life would do - hang out at the greenhouses of home gardening shops. I first became interested in plants and home gardening when I moved into this house. The contractor that was hired by my home's developer did a fraudulently crappy job at landscaping the property, so me and my mom had to spend a summer doing some heavy gardening to overhaul the flora.
I find the fresh air and the quiet atmosphere to be quite relaxing at home gardening shops, other than the clamor of bored kids wheeling themselves around in plant carts waving cacti around. The variety of plants grown there are actually pretty cool by my geeky standards. This time, however, I also had a specific purpose for going there. I was looking for a particular plant - the Fragrant Olive, known as Osmanthus fragrans var. aurantiacus to horticultural nerds.
When I first arrived in Japan six years ago, it was during the fall. While exploring the streets of my town, a sudden waft of sweet, seductive fragrance captured my heart and has not released it since. It was later that I learned, from a Japanese teacher at a school I taught at, that the aroma came from a plant called kinmokusei in Japanese, a wonderul smelling member of the olive family. I have been looking for it ever since I came back to North America, hoping that a potted specimen would bless my room with its natural perfume.
Fuck Glade, this is the real shit.
So it would figure that a plant I covet so much is not available at any store that I went to. On the advice of one staffer I talked to, the plant would probably be in stock during the fall, when it blooms.
Well I can't wait that long. I want to acquire my fragrant olive before it blooms, so that I can enjoy the plant in all of its olfactory glory, through the tragically brief lifetime of the scent it grants me each year. Since I need a plant in my room anyway, I might as well get it now. An inquiry with the Botanical Department of UBC would perhaps be the solution.
At least I'll be able to run faster from chasing all those botanists around.
posted by Cosmic Ocean at 8:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home