I know what you are all thinking (and worrying if you are my parents), Mr. Ethan has the yellow fever. Allow me to share with you a story from a Korean dance club that counteracts your image of me as a stereotypical westerner in Asia. This is copied verbatim from my journal:
"People always thought we were twins because of our ethnic background," she remarked. Both girls were dark haired, attractive, and wearing black. I was only joking that I couldn't remember to whom I told what.
"What are you?" I asked.
"Askenazi," she said.
I pointed to my chest. "Me too," I said. I was more than happy to meet a young attractive woman of kindred blood. We had the usual obligatory conversation about the tyrannical East European countries that exiled our ancestors.
"What's your last name?" she asked for confirmation.
"Green," I affirmed, "But my mother's family name was Zabeldovich before they changed it to Sable." Zabeldovich. I always loved to sound of the surname. It sounded so Polish and so authentic.
"Oh really?" she responded, quite surprised. "That's my family name too!"
I was also taken aback by the coincidence. "Maybe we're related," I suggested. "But don't worry," I continued, "So are my grandparents!..."
I guess you must be wondering if I got the girl. Well, not quite.