Biocultural Diversity Working Group
Biocultural Diversity
Professionals and community members involved in biocultural diversity work will find a place to share experiences, text and multimedia resources, as well as a space to share thoughts and dialog through online forums.
GROUP DETAILS
Created: Sep 02, 2008
Updated: Nov 18, 2009
Membership: Open To Apply
Semi-Private
Hai Vo
haivo
User Info
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Connected with 1 organization
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Areas of Focus
Green Roofs
(1593 people) | Urban Revitalization
(1184 people) | Sustainable Communities
(4071 people) | Sustainable Urban Environmental Services
(1054 people) | Photography
(1709 people) | Journalism and the Press
(1497 people) | Rights and Equality of LGBT
(676 people) | Public Health
(1207 people) | Food Literacy
(846 people) | Food Supply
(784 people) | Global Food Supply and Sustainability
(2442 people) | Hunger and Food Security
(1327 people) | Local Food Systems
(2858 people) | Malnutrition, Diet, Disease, and Education
(1164 people) | Agricultural Policy
(1260 people) | Composting
(2166 people) | Organic Farming
(3640 people) | Permaculture
(3258 people) | Sustainable Agriculture
(4014 people) | Performing Arts
(1912 people) | Ecosystem Services
(1326 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.