I never told you the story of how I bumped into Anthony Bourdain that fateful summer trip of 2017. We were headed to Alaska and our port of call was Seattle. Mr. Bourdain was apparently staying at the same hotel we were, and I saw him at the registration desk. All I could think in my silly fangirl moment was, gawd he's tall. As we exchanged a few inconsequential words, I felt the effort of his attempt to try to fold in his undeniable stature and status, recognizing what an impossible feat that must be for him as he moves through the world. This chance encounter feels somehow entangled with the surreal melancholy of that trip, where Alex and I were about to end our marriage (though we never actually ever legally separated), and someone would be brutally murdered down the hall from us on that cruise. A year later we'd hear of Anthony Bordain's tragic death. Fast forward to the present day, I was googling the terms han and jeong. Han is a Korean word that speaks to