asianaddict

Dear readers, it is time for me to confess.

So here it is, I have serious addictions and cultivate unmentionable sins. The worst of all is endless: I’m an Asian, asianaddict, asiadaire, asiadic, asiamaniac, asiaobsessed, ivrasiatic, asiamoureuse. Yes, you read those words that drive my spell checker crazy and make my page blush.

Zenitude

And it’s been almost 15 years. It started one evening in August 2001 in the central Thai plain. Shock ! People piled up on 2 wheels. Adults, children, babies, backs to stomachs, spinning without helmets in the relative coolness of the night. Motobikes everywhere, lights everywhere, noise everywhere. I had just discovered the cradle of perpetual motion. And I was stuck with amusement, curiosity and envy. Want to go further, to discover all the facets of this continent, to drink the chalice to the dregs. The beginning of my Asian intoxication, of my bulimasia. This so sweet fury that took me away without warning.

Perpetual motion

Immediately, I felt at ease in the middle of the tumult of the street. Not scared at all. Just so good! I let myself observe. And I liked what I saw and saw what I liked. Of the buddhas of stone with a peaceful smile in the shade of hundred-year-old trees,incense smoke in the hands worn by the weight of the years, the neon signs illuminating street canteensthe colorful boats ready to set sail, the color of the sky and the strength of the wind during the monsoon, toothless smiles on faces crumpled by work, soft green rice fieldssleeping bodies on rickshaws, orange-draped silhouettes of monks, heady-smelling food stalls, bamboo scaffolding, red lanterns, dragons and…so much more.

Awakening of the senses

And how to evoke Asia without talking about cuisine. I had never really subjected my palate to a few eccentricities, me the girl from the confines of the central massif. So I let my curiosity grow. Fried noodles and rice to start, reckless but not gastrokamikaze the wasp! Broths, curry, papaya salad, springrolls, boiled meat, caramelized or lacquered, I liked it for dinner. Fruit festival with an evocative appearance and name: durianjackfruit, rambutan, dragon fruit, mangosteenor mouth water just talking about it.

You will understand, I completely cracked. I have tried to turn my back on this irrational desire to return there every year. I promised myself to cross the Atlantic, to conquer the West, convinced of what I was saying in front of friends with skeptical expressions.

In a situation of lack, I plunged again and again deeper into the abysses of this endearing continent. Forever linked by this invisible thread which means that over there, it has also become my home.