Hai Vo
haivo
User Info
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
Network [List] · [Visualize]
Connected with 1 organization
Connected with 5 people
     |
Connected with 0 resources
Connected with 0 solutions
Connected with 0 jobs
Connected with 0 events
Connected with 0 wikipages
Areas of Focus
Green Roofs
(1450 people) | Urban Revitalization
(1087 people) | Sustainable Communities
(3320 people) | Sustainable Urban Environmental Services
(1004 people) | Photography
(1448 people) | Journalism and the Press
(1314 people) | Rights and Equality of LGBT
(586 people) | Public Health
(1010 people) | Food Literacy
(765 people) | Food Supply
(706 people) | Global Food Supply and Sustainability
(2055 people) | Hunger and Food Security
(1143 people) | Local Food Systems
(2324 people) | Malnutrition, Diet, Disease, and Education
(997 people) | Agricultural Policy
(964 people) | Composting
(1655 people) | Organic Farming
(2669 people) | Permaculture
(2227 people) | Sustainable Agriculture
(2958 people) | Performing Arts
(1499 people) | Ecosystem Services
(1093 people)
About
I am an everyday-evolving human being who wakes up realizing there’s another opportunity for me in life.
Intrinsic motivations include photography, painting, reading, academic inquiry, extensive backcountry camping, memory-collecting, and writing.
My greatest intrinsic motivation is food. I loved, love, and will love food.
As a youngin', my aunt would offer me this delectable butter-spread white-bread toast with loads of sugar on top. I devoured it. I always knew when she visited. My mouth swarmed with saliva more than usual. My nose perked towards the kitchen.
My taste buds are traditionally Vietnamese - sweet, sour, bitter, twitter, salty, and everything in between. Visiting the homeland at the age of seven, I could recollect the early mornings. I would wake up to enticing odors of sweet rice bread, fresh durain, crisp parsley, and a pecking chicken to be eaten later that evening. Among the sweet and sour soup, salted garlic talapia, sugary rice cakes, indeliably-delicious dips, and dozens of vermicelli dishes, my visits back "home" were real. I knew where my food was coming from each morning - the local farmer who smiled at me each day I passed the open market.
My tastebuds are also American. Born in Iowa and raised in California, I've been an experiment to the American agricultural industry. Each week unconsciously, I followed my mother to these massive quarantined warehouses called "supermarkets". I was in awe. But if it's anything that I've missed since visiting Vietnam, it would be my misplaced connection with food. I've lost that. I've never met the farmer who procured the broccoli I loathed eating, the milk I imbibed every day, or the potato in my Classic Lays chips. Each morning lacked the alluring smells once experienced. Granted, I loved food. But what was "behind" the food presented to me three times a day, seven days a week?
Which is why I’m here today.
Intrinsic motivations include photography, painting, reading, academic inquiry, extensive backcountry camping, memory-collecting, and writing.
My greatest intrinsic motivation is food. I loved, love, and will love food.
As a youngin', my aunt would offer me this delectable butter-spread white-bread toast with loads of sugar on top. I devoured it. I always knew when she visited. My mouth swarmed with saliva more than usual. My nose perked towards the kitchen.
My taste buds are traditionally Vietnamese - sweet, sour, bitter, twitter, salty, and everything in between. Visiting the homeland at the age of seven, I could recollect the early mornings. I would wake up to enticing odors of sweet rice bread, fresh durain, crisp parsley, and a pecking chicken to be eaten later that evening. Among the sweet and sour soup, salted garlic talapia, sugary rice cakes, indeliably-delicious dips, and dozens of vermicelli dishes, my visits back "home" were real. I knew where my food was coming from each morning - the local farmer who smiled at me each day I passed the open market.
My tastebuds are also American. Born in Iowa and raised in California, I've been an experiment to the American agricultural industry. Each week unconsciously, I followed my mother to these massive quarantined warehouses called "supermarkets". I was in awe. But if it's anything that I've missed since visiting Vietnam, it would be my misplaced connection with food. I've lost that. I've never met the farmer who procured the broccoli I loathed eating, the milk I imbibed every day, or the potato in my Classic Lays chips. Each morning lacked the alluring smells once experienced. Granted, I loved food. But what was "behind" the food presented to me three times a day, seven days a week?
Which is why I’m here today.