Pictures are worth a thousand words...

So here are some pictures.
gotta make it quick so I can see more, live more, eat more.
Click the pictures to expand. Read on.

Kimchi is delicious

Manduguk, Dumpling soup

One of the many views of Seoul

Coffee drink of some sort

Chillin' with a shake and a cigar

Saw this place in passing, the name escapes me now.

Dressing up as a scholar from the Joseon dynasty. The two cranes represent this.

Street view better than Google can do.

Tea ceremony in a traditional house (Hanok)

Jjimdak - a spicy clear noodle dish with succulent morsels of chicken (Watch out for bones)

Rooftops of Hanoks in Insadong

Wall art with messages and couples signing their names.

Rooftop view of Insadong

Looked over a ledge and found this.
I didn't even collect on this but I really should've, knowing how amazing food is here...

There were some more things I wanted to photograph and take footage of, but of course my fancy-schmancy DSLR ran out of battery. I will return to the same spot and take better pictures of the wonders I found as I progressed down Insadong.


I found out how to use the Seoul subway, which I had approached with some degree of trepidation. However, with touchscreen informational terminals located with a special button for foreigners, I found it incredibly easy to navigate. The trains were massive and the entire subway was spotless and high-tech. At no point was I ever in fear of being robbed or accosted by strangers. This is a smart city.


Until next time.

The Arrival

I boarded the plane to Korea with an innocent idea of a 'long plane ride'. I was fortunate enough to fly next to two laid-back individuals. One was Tom, an older Vietnamese man with a grasp of English that was enough for a small joke here and there (he sort of struck me as a 47-year-old kid with his affinity for creature comforts). On my left was my other comrade, Eun-Ji, a charming and pretty girl who I was shocked to find was actually 27 and married. She had studied in the U.S. for four years and now was returning to Seoul.
Throughout the flight she gave me tips and helped me to understand some things. Her most emphasized point was to never say, "What?" if I was trying to understand someone. The translation of this statement in Asian cultures implies that the person you're addressing might actually be crazy and makes people feel self-conscious. She was big in convincing me not to fear speaking the language and making a few mistakes.
Korean Air was very much to my liking. You're able to play Street Fighter on the seat in front of you and I watched the movie 50/50, as well as Blind (블라인드). This, of  course, was while me and Tom were supplied with a beer and the three of us munched on bibimbap.
Towards the end of the flight Tom and I went to the back of the plane and took pictures flying over China (We couldn't fly over North Korea as you might imagine). This spectacle attracted one or two passengers and an air hostess. These women were about as professional as possible and their attire reminded me very much of some 1950s travel videos.
The Seoul Incheon airport was incredibly clean, quiet, and spacious. The baggage claim was almost reminiscent of some place of worship. This is where myself and two other people from my program rendezvoused and ironically found ourselves worshiping for the Bag Gods to deliver our suitcases. Our prayers were answered in short order.
With barely any time to experience the fabled "Best Airport in the World" I was ushered out with our group by our adviser Danbee and put into the back of a deluxe taxi. We were seeing lots of random skyscrapers and condominiums awkwardly jutting out of the cold greenish-brown landscape. Mountains are everywhere, which were absolutely stunning but seem to create wind that cuts through any layers you're wearing.
Derrick, another student apart of the I.S.A. group became my room mate. We came up to the third floor of our dorm building and found that all the lights were turned off and no one was actually there. Understandably  a little off-put by this, we found our door and fumbled at the futuristic locking mechanism for a while. It requires you to punch a button and then wave your card in front of it. I know, not very complicated but it looks like it at first. Among other oddities in our room (besides having our own bathroom) is the fact that our shower is a walk-in with a drain under the sink. I don't know how this doesn't produce mold but it doesn't, I guess.
We found much to our chagrin that we didn't have any pillows or toilet paper and other necessities and decided to head out and find something. On our way out to search the streets for these things we found the other people who would be living in our hall and, thankfully, a light switch. These people living on our floor were business students from Ghana, the Netherlands, Germany and India, all of whom were in the same boat as us and didn't know a lick of Korean.
As the one person with some understanding of the language and the ability to read what it says, I willingly led us out to where I had seen the most action when we pulled in at first. As a side mission we searched for food as well.
I was so absolutely dead tired that I could barely hold my end of any encounter in Korean. Our quest had ended with everyone else getting Burger King (figures) and myself and the guy from India enjoying some street food. It tasted like spicy ravioli.
And of course after that I collapsed in a heap on my new bed.

Chicago O'Hare Airport

View over China

View over China pt.2

Seoul Incheon Airport

Around the World in Some Odd Hours

I am currently pulling into the Syracuse airport. Making a hasty note on my phone before an even quicker get away. 20 minutes until I board. It begins.

To Yell into a Vacuum

No one can articulate a syllable which is not filled with tenderness and fear, which is not, in one of these languages, the powerful name of a god. To speak is to fall into tautology. This wordy and useless epistle already exists in one of the thirty volumes of the five shelves of the innumerable hexagons - and its refutation as well. (An n number of possible languages use the same vocabulary; in some of them, the symbol library allows the correct defintion a ubiquitous and lasting system of hexagonal galleries, but library is bread or pyramid or anything else, and these seven words which define it have another value. You who read me, are You sure of understanding my language?)

 - The Library of Babel, by Jorge Luis Borges

 LANGUAGE, the one thing by which we speak and are understood. The words we choose to utter are symbolic of something. By learning other languages a distinction becomes clear immediately: We really aren't sure what it is we are trying to represent. The train tracks that made up the spine of our country in the 19th century lit the way for the sinister 'Iron Horse', from which a over a million buffalo were shot. These buffalo were the only way through which tribes could maintain their lifestyle. The trees that make up our country today are all new growths. The ancient woods that came before met their end by an unfortunate definition and an unfit name. What sort of name is apt for any living thing that has the ability to last for centuries - growing stronger with time, and supplying the very air we breathe?

Meditations

Well, I'm still home for now. In this post I'd like to give you a small taste of what I'm leaving behind. 
I've called this photo album Interstate 8 - after the song by Modest Mouse. Nothing really changes here. 
Click 'Read More' to see the slideshow/web album.

My last shots from home

The Hardest Tongue-Twisters...

DO you like puzzles? Well, Korean is kind of like that. I've loved Korean for the fact that it can be as tedious as a crossword but unlike a crossword isn't a total waste of your time. Like, it's actually possible to 'get'. It has been called the most scientific language ever created. Most letters of the Korean alphabet are pronounced the same regardless of their placement within a syllable.

Before this small peninsular country existed in my consciousness I wrote off all Asian languages as a wash and all other Latin-based languages as a snore. You mean to tell me that the word for chocolate in Spanish is...chocolate?! No way, stop, that is too interesting. Guess what the French word for chocolate is? Chocolat. Now that's a word that's about as interesting as the movie was.

It's really no wonder that as the two main languages offered in public school the only real goal of learning either Spanish or French is to convince the bureaucracy of whatever state you're living in that you are 'well-rounded'. For most kids the only factor that goes into learning one or the other is whether Spanish or French is easier somehow, or, perhaps, if their older siblings happen to have notes they could copy from. This trend continues into college where people actually pay for the classes they take. Only in the case of a college student their choice is based off of whatever they slid by with in High School. How well-rounded can someone be if they learn to fear pursuing something different and only exhibit this mythical trait when forced?

I feel like schools have removed all of the gratification one would feel from learning a language of their own volition. Specifically, the moment where two people from totally different background are reduced to hand signals to convey their meaning. In this case each remembered word from your language of study becomes a valuable fulcrum of understanding. You're interested in the heritage of the person you're talking to, which entails all of the history and customs you've been fascinated with. In this rare and quintessentially human experience you find that the person to whom you're speaking is a living vessel who may confirm or deny all that you have, until that point, only heard.

When I was in D.C. for that previously recounted week of delirium and heat I had one such encounter. From the Korean matron of a subway restaurant I learned that her father lived in Korea and that you always get your Kimchi with rice (김치 하고 밥). Much was spoken, little was understood, but all was remembered.

To those of you who passed French well before I, and I assure you that could be anyone, all I can say is: Enjoy being well-rounded. For your part you can believe what you've been told. For my part I believe that if we were all well-rounded then this Earth would make for a more perfect sphere. Maybe while were at it we could make a class that teaches students to be wise, just to save parents the trouble. We could call it Health class, make that a requirement, and see how things go. If that doesn't work I guess we'll just read them their rights.

Traveler Spirit

WELL, that's a relief. I just looked over everything for the I.S.A. program and guess what? I'm getting out of here. All of the requirements before leaving are complete. I'm gonna capitalize on this small moment where people can actually be jealous of what I'm doing. Hey, why not? Feels good. Last time I did something worth talking about all it amounted to was melting in the street heat of D.C. for a week. Walking out the door into that haze I could almost picture a sand timer over my head counting down before I oozed into some crack in the sidewalk. Perhaps Washington was the Vegas of its time, built over a swamp instead of a desert. I'm sure back in those politically charged days it must have been as much fun to get into a debate as it is to lose all of your money on the Strip. I mean, probably not, but why else is it the capital? Something exciting must have been happening.

Some say that Seoul during the winter is about as depressing as it gets. Yet I don't see this being the case. Maybe the reason is because I feel I'm under the same revolutionary spirit that had Jefferson envisioning a swamp to be the nerve center for a great society. It's the sign, the Eagle on the cactus that points to Tenochtitlan.

Since childhood I've always been interested in countries and how they've ebbed through time. For example, is it strange to anyone else that Mongolia was at one point the closest thing we've ever had to an empire that conquered the planet? Now when do we hear that country's name, save for when relations with the Chinese turn sour, if at all? To be honest I think it was the childhood wonder that has been such a strong force in my desire to travel. This is a desire that, up until a few months ago, I thought was shared by everybody.

Who wasn't young once and enchanted by the stereotypical images of pyramids and sunshine and camels sauntering through an endless landscape of sand? Who didn't honestly believe somewhere in their childish mind that they would one day be that adventurer, macheteing their way through some overgrown jungle?

But I'm not a child anymore. The real adventure in life has always come from less obvious venues. The gray of a city obscures just as the dirt covering the 'X' that marks the spot, so to speak. Ancient mysteries are remembered and forgotten, causing enlightenment for the whole world on the occasional good day. As a citizen of the world, as we ultimately all are, I deem my job in Korea to be like sifting for gold. To expose for good or ill what treasures may exist where few care to look.

I believe these treasures will come in the form of a different way of viewing life. A unique way of viewing life is the real backbone of any particular nationality, tribe, or simply any group of people who see themselves as sharing a common heritage. The real value of a trip that makes everything worth it is the ability to learn how to live differently. Consequently, one can find themselves living a new life entirely.

I don't know if I'll understand the non-adventurer types, the "home-bodies", as they've been described to me. Maybe they've been held down by their own society which constantly states, "We've been there, the whole world has been discovered." Discovery and exploration is the essence of the human spirit. If you listen to this train of thought then the last place you can explore is the bottom of the ocean. At every turn it seems to me that this is the only place a country would like to send its explorers, the people who realize that its impossible for one place to be the best in the world. To hear that all Parisians are snobs, the people in the town next to mine are rednecks, or any generalization for that matter, has never been enough to dampen my freedom to find out for myself. Seeing only half the world will never be enough, you couldn't convince me otherwise if it were a trip to the Moon. I encourage everyone to see what potential exists for living a full life before it becomes impossible to ever do so.

For now though, I am prepared to bid adieu to the States...