I live in a city that has a large population of Armenian immigrants. One effect of this concentration is the most delicious scents wafting through the cool evening air of my apartment complex. Exotic spices, savory stews, meats roasting to tender perfection. I also like bumping into old grandmas and grandpas on the street going about their daily walks. They have the look of people who have lived in interesting times in interesting places far, far away, but who are now content to have their daily walk uninterrupted by anything interesting. And so I'm happy to oblige.
Of course, Glendale is not an exclusively Armenian enclave. There're smatterings of other non-Armenian establishments here and there, one of which is the Korean market. Something pretty comparable to what you might see in Koreatown a short drive away. It's always funny going from the local Starbucks, which is the Armenian Man's hang out (old and young) to the Korean market, which is pretty much almost exclusively Korean. The two are right next to each other, but you never see people going from one into the other. I suppose this is evidence of stereotype's ability to erect walls?
Anyway, today I found myself on my weekly produce run to the Korean market. After stuffing my bag full of kale, tomatoes, pluots and other such delights, I was making my way to my car when I was struck by the sight of a very well-dressed Korean girl standing in the middle of the parking lot. She had her hair did, her lipstick red, and her heels high. It was a strange sight, a pretty girl in the parking lot neither coming nor going. Just waiting.
Certainly not waiting form me, though. I walked right past her with the quickest of quickness and proceeded to place my groceries in the car. But as I was busying myself with the trunk, enter the Hunk. This debonair Armenian gentleman arrives in his chariot to whisk the Korean girl away. After stepping out of the car to greet her, the two embraced. Not hugged, but embraced (and there is a difference between the two). The embrace was for a brief second, but even from where I was, I could feel the electricity of the connection between these two. A tenderness you usually don't see in public. These two were probably only on a second or third date--there was still a hesitancy to the whole thing, and the girl had decided it's still too early to disclose the location of her domicile--but you felt good about their prospects.
And of course the ethnic pairing stood out to me. I suppose that is a bit narrow-minded of me (or exposes my shelteredness), but you really don't see that pairing often (or at all?). It moved me. A budding romance built on their inner spirits. From the inside out. The right way. It definitely made me happy to be living in America (or at least in California). A Japanese guy standing in the parking lot of the Korean Market in an Armenian City bearing witness to one more small step toward the color-blind society that is our American inheritance. It gave me a good feeling to know that when the Dream comes, it will be fueled with the Love.
--KM
"My eyes have once again been proven wrong."
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