I had some business to take care of in Recife in the northeast, so I booked a flight. Before returning to Sao Paulo, I decided to stop by Brasilia. I have an old acquaintance there, so I decided to bring him something unusual as a souvenir from Sao Paulo. When that friend was in Sao Paulo, we often went to a golf driving range run by a Japanese person, and I remembered that we used to sweat while drinking beer and eating kimchi, so I decided to bring him some kimchi, turnip pickled in red peppers, and garlic from a nearby Korean grocery store.
Who would have thought that a gift of love for a friend would turn into a tragedy?
However, when I picked up the kimchi, turnips with pickled red peppers, and garlic at the store, I thought, "Oh! This is bad!" The smell was so strong. When I tried to stop, the owner of the store confidently said, "It's okay, I'll package it well." He carefully wrapped the sealed containers several times in cellophane, just like a butcher. However, on the way home, the car was already smelling terrible. There were things that foreshadowed the tragedy that was to come.
When I got home and finished preparing for my business trip, my wife picked up the package with interest and asked, "What is this?" I explained the situation and told her that I had decided to leave it at home, and she said, "Oh! In that case, I have a great idea!" and quickly took the package and started to do something. She said that it would be fine if it was wrapped in aluminum. While I was shaking my head and saying, "I wonder," she quickly put it in a carrier bag and stuffed it into the back of the car that was taking us to the airport.
After checking in at Congonhas Airport, I grabbed my tote bag and sat down in a vacant seat in the waiting room to wait for my time to come. A slightly older person sat next to me. He opened the newspaper and started to read, but soon began to look around. He then stood up and sat somewhere else. I got scared. The bag at my feet was emanating that undeniable smell. I even considered going to wash my hands and quietly putting it in a trash can to dispose of it. But then I thought, "Wait a minute. What if someone sees me, gets suspicious, or starts asking me questions..." and decided not to.
But when things get to this point, it's hard to come up with a great idea. So I told myself, "Wait, the air conditioning is on inside the plane, and considering the effects of adjusting the air pressure and blowing air from above, this waiting room is a must." Soon, I began to feel confident that I could avoid the crisis if I brought it on board.
As time passed, my heart was pounding and I broke out into a cold sweat. I saw an airline employee coming towards me. I was so nervous that I glared at the article in the magazine I was holding. I glanced up and saw the airline employee cross the aisle to the left. I was safe.
When the time came, we all filed in and entered the plane. I sat in a window seat and silently prayed that no one would sit next to me. Usually I would hope that a beautiful woman would sit there, but just then I was filled with a prayerful desire for the seat to be empty. However, within a few minutes, my hopes were dashed. A fat man in his sixties sat down by the aisle. The middle seat was still vacant. Just as Namsan and I were clasping our hands together and feeling like we were grasping at straws, the boarding process for passengers was finally closed. The handbag at my feet still smelled disgustingly bad.
After takeoff, the long-awaited air conditioner started working. I opened the overhead air vent as wide as I could and felt the cool air blowing on me. I felt a sense of satisfaction, thinking, "See that?", but it was only for a moment. Out of nowhere, that strong smell drifted in. The flight to Recife was a whopping three hours! I needed to endure the pain to the point of fainting. Since I had brought it on board, there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't throw it out the window, and it was difficult to ask the stewardess to put it in the refrigerator. My anxiety and worries did not subside. The man sitting next to me stood up. I was scared that the stewardess would tell on me. Fortunately, he had only gone to wash his hands because of the beer he had been drinking. I was curious about the bag at my feet, so I looked inside and noticed a strong, stinky smell. That smell really killed me. This is what they mean when they say "Nunkamais!" (never more)!
When I arrived in Recife and checked in at the hotel, it was already 12:30 at night. As soon as I entered the room, I threw the package in the refrigerator. However, within a few minutes, the room smelled horrible. It was embarrassing, but there was nothing I could do about it. I apologised and quietly left the hotel, knowing that the cleaning lady would be shocked when she opened the refrigerator the next day.
After taking care of my business, before returning to the hotel, I stopped by a supermarket to buy a convenient box for storing fish, etc. Then I put the package in the box and wrapped it tightly with cellophane tape.
The next day, on the plane to Brasilia, the smell had thankfully subsided. The expected effect was sufficient, and this time it did not disappoint. When I handed the bag to my friend who came to pick me up, I was relieved to finally be free from the tragedy.
My friend doesn't know how hard it must have been for me to bring this kimchi from São Paulo, but if, while eating it, he reminisces about the golf driving range run by a Japanese immigrant that we used to visit often back then, then all the effort of bringing it all the way to Brasilia will have been worth it.
Sao Paulo's oriental food stores, formerly run by Japanese people, are now mainly run by Taiwanese, Koreans and Chinese.
© 2013 Hidemitsu Miyamura
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