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Traveling through Time

Orange Honey Mascarpone Sponge Cake Roll

Growing up, I used to love eating sponge cake rolls.
And today, I made one!

I had forgotten about my childhood favorite for quite some time until today, when I chanced upon a sponge cake roll recipe that I had squirreled away years ago in my recipe file. But when I saw a photo of the fluffy round bundle of jam and goodness, it didn't take much to immediately recall my favorite comfort treat.

Growing up, whenever we would chance upon sponge cake rolls in the local bakery, I would bargain with my mother to get a slice - just a small slice - that I could relish on our way home. I remember how I used to find such great comfort in slowly unraveling the roll as I ate it layer by layer, licking the filling off my fingers in quite an unladylike manner until I finally reached the best part - the center. Now, everyone knows that the center of the sponge cake is the best part. Surrounded by moist filling on either side with just the perfect dollop of filling gathered in the very middle of the roll, the center of a sponge roll cake is the perfect end to a delightful treat.

And now that I am an "adult," I get to make my own! I really appreciate the elegance of this recipe; it combines the most basic ingredients (eggs, flour, oil, and sugar) to create a great treat that nearly anyone can enjoy. There are no special bells and whistles here. It is all about the technique and the care put into the making of it, and the recipe even allows for some improvisation; the recipe calls for a simple jam or preserve to create a fruity filling, but I thought that would be just a little too boring. So I grabbed the few ingredients we had in our pantry and refrigerator and had some fun. Mascarpone cheese served as the base to which I added a healthy glop of honey to give it some natural sweetening and flavor. Lastly, I added the zest of one orange to cut through the creaminess of it all and lend the filling a lightness to complement the lightness of the cake.

Out came the cake, on went the filling, and I, the little girl who had once found so much delight in unrolling sponge cakes layer by layer, found new enjoyment and comfort in rolling the sponge cake up slowly, creating the perfect middle with a generous dollop of cream in the very center, all the while knowing that a, cz, gd, d, and i would be unraveling healthy slices of the cake just moments later in anticipation of that perfect cream center.

Saying Goodbye

During my childhood, nobody ever really told me exactly what a Grandfather was. In class, they told me that a grandfather was the father of my mother or father. But beyond that, no teacher ever really told me exactly what role my Grandfather should play in my life or what he should mean to me. So I developed my own conception of what a Grandfather was, based on the Grandfathers that I saw in books, television shows, and movies. And I found out that according to American books, television shows, and movies, Grandfathers are the men who have grey hair, sit by the fireplace, tell long stories, and occasionally ask you to pull on their finger. My grandfather was none of these things. My grandfather was an entirely different kind of grandfather. And he was so much better in so many ways. He wasn’t the type of Grandpa who would sit by the fireplace, tell long stories, and never did he ask me to pull on his finger. Instead, he was the type of Grandfather who would take long walks with me throughout his neighborhood, showing me his Korea – his nation that he had served throughout his life in the Army, and the nation that he loved. I remember that it was during one of these walks that he showed me for the first time the Moo-Goong-Hwa, the national Korean flower and explained to me its significance with pride as he plucked one, and gently set it behind my ear. We must have been an odd sight as we walked through the streets of Korea together. He was a wise old man with few words who walked with a slow and stately pace. I was a little girl who talked far too much and bounced up and down as I walked, pointing out everything I saw. But he listened to everything I had to say and answered my numerous questions with the greatest patience in the world. I see now that these walks were my Grandfather’s way of not only showing me how much he loved me, but also his way of instilling in me wisdom and a sense of who I was and where I came from.

And when he got too old to walk with me, we would sit and watch TV together. And that was enough to make me the happiest little girl in the world, because I could see even during those times just how much he loved me by the way that the corners of his mouth turned up whenever I caught him looking at me. And he would laugh. He had an unforgettable, hearty laugh that was always accompanied by a special twinkle in his eye.

My grandfather was many things to many people during his life: he was an Army captain, and a loving father and husband. According to everyone I spoke with, he was also a good looking man with the most handsome ears in all of Korea. To me, he was the only Grandfather I had ever known. He is the man who taught me early on the importance of patience and the value in a genuine smile. He is the man who taught me how to love silently. He is the man that I will forever remember every time I see a Moo-Goong-Hwa flower or hear a hearty laugh. And he is the man that I will daily look forward to seeing once again one day in heaven.

I love you, Grandpa, and I miss you so much.

Peluqueria

Today marks our final official day at Grameen. Tomorrow marks the first day of a two week trip throughout Argentina, Chile, and Paraguay.

I'm excited to go home, but a part of me will always be here with the people I've come to love over my short stay here. I'll miss them all - particularly this one.

Peluqueria with Viktoria

Isn't she adorable?

Los Seres Humanos

Arana has been a point of contention amongst the Grameen Bank operators since the inception of the new center. In physical distance, it is only a few blocks and two bus rides away. However, it couldn’t be further away in emotional and mental distance.

Arana was not always as rural and still as it is now. The abandoned offices were once milling with people. Factories turned profits and trains sped by on their ways to all-important destinations. But Argentina is a vibrant and dynamic country. Arana couldn’t have expected it to stay still forever. But when Argentina’s political and economic climates changed drastically, the factories failed to adjust.

The now closed and abandoned shell of a factory now stands as an ominous portent of the risks of failing to progress. Yet, the people who occupy the area fail to heed it; they are quick to close their hearts and minds at the first sign of change or trouble and are slow to explore and discuss possible solutions. Yet, oddly enough, all of this town that is so set in its ways closes for the formal presentation of the presidential candidate, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, the wife of current President Néstor Kirchner, who is attempting to ride on the coattails of the much loved Eva Perón. Aside from having been Argentina’s First Lady at one point in time, the two couldn’t be any more different. Fernández lacks the heart for the humble that was the driving force behind Evita, her benevolence, and her popularity. Yet it was precisely for this announcement that all of the humble community of Arana, its schools, and businesses closed.

It is undoubtedly an estranged area. However, the people in it are still los seres humanos, and in this commonality we find the ability to relate to them, commiserating with them in their difficulties, and rejoicing in their successes. It’s an odd thing, this commonality that transcends not only city lines, but social classes, religious sects, and political lines, as well. And sometimes, for one to be able to interact on a meaningful level with those who appear to be the others, one must only see and respect this commonality. Most of the time, this respect is all “they” want and need.

Cultural Immersion

What cultural experience would be complete without an encounter with the country's medical system? So when I wound up in the emergency room with a torn ligament today, I did what any rational patient would do: I took pictures.

Doctor's Station

View 1 from the examination table.

View 2 from the examination table
View 3 reclining on the examination table

I found the experience riveting, beginning with the smoke-filled hallways and waiting rooms. In exchange for my first and last name, and age, I was immediately admitted into the emergency room. After a short wait, a young doctor clad in street clothing knelt down, proceeded to poke my ankle, look at my wincing face, and promptly declare the ligament to be torn, prescribing me painkillers without a single question regarding my medical history. House would've loved the medical system here. :) And then I was out the door. No insurance, no fees, and no forms. Just a "ciao."

Dinner at Roberto's

Homes here in La Plata differ in building material ranging from wood and stecco to brick and concrete. They are antiquated, modern, highly stylized, simple, well-constructed, or falling to pieces. Many are rather small. It's a wonder that they can pack in so much love and hospitality in addition to the 3 ... 8 ... 14 children in each family.

Dinner at Roberto's was a great glimpse into an Argentine family. The level of affection that pervades Argentine culture is perhaps most starkly seen in the kisses with which they all greet each other here. This affection is even stronger within the household, between siblings, and parents and their children.

In stark contrast to the image of a stately or reserved father, Roberto, a former film director created a photo montage for Violeta, appropriately set to the song Pompilla. Immanuel has an extremely close relationship with Mariaemma, his mom, with whom he shares every detail of his day as soon as he gets home. Rather than shrug off hugs and feign a macho demeanor as many of the teenage boys his age do, he openly hugs and kisses his little brothers, and speaks with respect of Violeta and Juan.

Roberto and Mariaemma have given their children the freedom to choose nearly everything for themselves. Perhaps it was because they were such strong models of honesty, solidarity, humility, and moral upstanding themselves, that the children given such free reign, chose to become such strong and wise people. Undoubtedly, the openly expressed unconditional love that the parents showed them helped make them into the confident people that they are today.

Violeta and Auca

Auca

Violeta and RobertoMariaemma and Immanuel