The Land of the Morning Calm in Black and White

Upon signing onto Skype this morning, I received a link from a very dear friend of mine. It said, "I have a black of white photo of you, and you look amazing."  So she sent me the photo (although amazing is quite an overstatement, ha) and she also sent me a few other photos she took while living in Korea.  They are all absolutely amazing, and I wanted to share them here.

Anna Martinez, your raw talent rocks my world.

Feeling a bit Seoulless

I've been feeling a bit off my game lately. I have mentioned this feeling once before, but this time it has proven to be quite persistent. I can't even explain what the feeling is, or really even put my finger on what exactly it is. Something is just off, something is missing here. 

I know, you must think I'm crazy. With technology buzzing all around, coffee shops on every corner, and soju that costs less than $1 a bottle, what's there to miss eh? I'm sorry but I think I've had my fill of high heels, rice for every meal, and walking past grown men passed out with their pants around their ankles every weekend. You know what we say when people ask us what it's like to live in Korea? We say, "It's like living in a joke". Seriously. It's like nothing you could ever predict or imagine. 

Besides missing common sense, Korea is missing something more. Today I was hanging out in a friend’s apartment and we were reminiscing about the times we had both spent in Spain. We looked through pictures, listened to music, and even had a little one-on-one Salsa dance lesson. (She was the one teaching, I was the one learning.) However, I left her place with that pit in my stomach. The pit that has been waiting to be filled with culture, with history, or perhaps just with a chicken burrito from Chipotle. 

Living in a concrete jungle is an understatement when it comes to Korea. Sometimes I feel like I'm inside a pac men game when I go down one street, only to realize I've come in the complete opposite side of the street I wanted, but it all looks identical. Besides the food and all the Koreans walking around everywhere, it's basically the same as living in the U.S. I don't feel that Korean culture. There have been a few times I've been completely immersed in a book or my ipod on the train, only to suddenly be jerked back into reality and look around to find I'm literally the only white person in miles. Things are written in English, there are American restaurants everywhere, and I speak English all day long. 

I just wish there was the inspiration I felt at any given moment while walking down the street in Spain. I wish I could feel the passion, the music, the history in anything here. The Koreans work all day long, the kids go to school for even longer, and everyone is so delirious by the end of the night they drink their sorrows away in soju. 

Now I don't want to be the asshole that keeps comparing Korea to back home or to a better place I've lived, but I can't deny that my heart is not fulfilled here. I think I may have a solution though. Fancy that! I've been listening to more and more Spanish podcasts, grooving to my Spanish music, and now have an inspiration/teacher for Salsa. SO, with that said...I may have to just get my Spanish-on while living in Korea.  Wouldn't it be just hilarious if I became fluent in Spanish while living in Korea rather than when I lived in Spain? Haha. 

I also think this lack of 'umph' I'm feeling in Korea may have something to do with the half way mark. I've been here almost 6 months, am in the middle of switching jobs, and am feeling like I have nothing in common with anyone. But I hope this funk will pass. I hope that with my love for Spanish culture, my interest in Korean culture will peak.  It's not that the culture is not here; it's just that it is masked by the busy-ness of the day-to-day life. But I think I gotta find that something I love, that something that inspires me to learn everything there is to know about everything.  

It will happen. Que sera, sera. Right? 

I leave you with this Youtube fav of mine right now.  

Banana Pancakes and Fresh Squeezed Papaya Juice

Landing in Denpasar airport in Bali Indonesia after a 24 hour layover in Malaysia and an awful stomach bug, was probably one of the best feelings in the world. Little did I know that we wouldn't actually be leaving the airport for another three hours en route to our hostel.

When you get to the airport in Indonesia, you have to get an 'on arrival visa' in order to enter the country for any reason. This my friends, takes longer than standing in line at the polls on Election Day. For three hours we stood there, wondering why the hell stamping a passport was taking so damn long. The only redeeming qualities were that we had finally arrived in Bali, and we were standing behind what my friend and I nicknamed, "The Good-looking Couple".  This couple had been on our flight from Malaysia to Bali, and were so incredibly good looking they gave Brangelina a run for their money. They were tall, tan, and Spanish. What's not to love about that?

Anyway, after getting through the line we went outside to a huge crowd of Balinese men holding up signs with names of tour groups, hostels, hotels etc. Finally I found my name, and we followed the guy over to his car. The drive to our cottage hostel took almost two hours. During those two hours I may or may not have shit my pants a number of times due to the fear of losing my life with the amount of insanity that goes on at any given moment on a Balinese "highway".  There were dogs, cats, chickens, motorcycles packed 4 people deep, trucks playing chicken until the last second swerve, and half gravel half cement roads. It was absolutely insane, the craziest road I have ever been on.

We finally arrived at our hostel, were shown to our own little cottage, dropped our bags and then proceeded to hunt for food. We ate a delicious meal of vegetable and chicken curry, and headed back to sleep around 9:30 exhausted from traveling for almost 48 hours. Of course going to bed at 9:30 prompts early wake up, even for me. We awoke at 8 am, had breakfast and headed to the beach.

For the next few days this is basically what we did. There was a little back patio right on the beach side to our hostel, where we would eat breakfasts that consisted of delicious banana pancakes, fresh fruit, and strong Balinese coffee.  We lounged at the beach most of the days, sometimes taking breaks to explore the town a bit. We came across a group of Australians who owned a hostel down the road from ours, and they decided to take us under their wings a little bit. They gave us advice about what to do, what to see, which taxis to take, and buses that won't rip us off.

One day the Australian owner (who was married to a Balinese woman and had two Balinese step sons) offered his sons taxi service to take us to the neighboring town for the ATM and down to the white sand beaches afterward. The moped ride was my favorite part of the trip by far. The scenery was absolutely amazing. They took us through rice fields, palm trees, typical Balinese towns, and even a monkey forest. It was really cool. Of course when we arrived at the ATM it didn't work, and in turn I had to basically ration off the rest of my money on the trip for food. But once we got down to the white sand beach it didn't really matter anymore.

Another highlight of the trip was a tiny village where we were able to see a lot of the local life. Most women were sitting around weaving blankets or painting. The men were tending to the chickens or lighting fresh incense.  There was a small school up there too, and the children were dressed in cute little uniforms.

The trip was really great. It was a short trip, but definitely worth the money and the travel.  I had some pretty cool moments there, with people from all different nationalities.  I think the best moment I had was with a young, local, Balinese girl.  I had separated one night from my friend, and walked pretty far down the beach to try to catch the sunset.  I walked really far out on the rocks, and sat down waiting for the sun to go down. The weather was getting quite cloudy, but it was still stunning.  The girl was sitting close by with her boyfriend. All of the sudden she just plops down right next to me, a smile from ear to ear, and says "Hello".  I said hello and we chatted for a few moments.  Her English was not great, and it was a bit hard to understand. But I did manage to understand she wanted to try and practice her English. She was incredibly sweet, and it was a blessing to have her be so nice to me.  Sometimes when you travel you just get into the mind set that everyone is trying to sell something to you, rip you off, smuggle something off of you. It was refreshing to sit with this local girl, and just have her be interested in where I was from and why the hell I was sitting on the middle of a rock on the North shore of Bali. It's little things like this that make the layovers, delays, visas and all the other shit you have to go to when traveling worth it.

And alas, now I am sitting back in Korea where it is humid as hell outside, wondering where I will plan my next adventure.

Life is good when all you have to worry about is where you'll travel to next eh?

Time

I've never met two more different people than my mother and my father. I can't even believe they've been married for as long as they have because they seem so fundamentally different. I mean really, it's not really a marriage after 30 some odd years is it? I wouldn't call it marriage, but successfully co-existing rather. (I'll hear an ear full of this later I'm sure.) Who knows, maybe they were more alike when they got married than they are today.

My dad is very calm, cool and collected. He's the "cooler than the cat that went to school just for lunch" kinda guy. Now granted, he's nearly 100 years old...so who's to say he wasn't ape shit insane in his early years. (I'm kidding dad. You don't look a day over 60.) And my mother, oh my mother. She does things at a mile a minute, and works herself until exhaustion everyday. But I've never met a person with more drive, more ambition, and more sass in their ass than my mother. All of which I love dearly. If my parents were Winnie the Pooh characters my mother would be Tigger, and my father would be Eeyore. (Not the sad and depressed part of Eeyore, just the cool, laid back, nonchalant-ness of Eeyore.)

This brings me to my next point. Can two people who are so different survive in a long lasting friendship? A long lasting relationship? Can it work?

While living in Korea, I have met a plethora of people who are vastly different than myself. I enjoy meeting and being around people like me. But there comes a point when the differences between two people become an obstacle that seems too hard to overcome. Can someone who is chronically early last against someone who is chronically late? Can someone who is a sarcastic asshole connect with someone who is painfully shy? Can a Jewish person fall in love with a Buddhist? (I'm just throwing this in there because lets face it, everyone loves Jewish people. Have you ever met a Jew that isn't a fucking riot? They're hilarious. Bottom line.)

What I'm getting at is, how do we make friendships work? How do we make relationships work? Of course it's easy to have acquaintances, and people you have coffee with once or twice a week. But I'm talking about our "people" in our lives. The ones that stick around, the ones that we let see us without our make up on. The ones we are willing to let brave the early morning hours of that dreaded dragon breath (at their own risk of course.)

Do these "people" even exist in the world? Or will I always have to be toning down my strong opinions and emotions in order to not offend someone, or hurt their feelings? Will I have to hide my true feelings and emotions in a relationship just to keep it going? I've realized since being here it has been quite the struggle to figure out what is easier. Is it easier being true to myself, or trying to please others for friendship? Does there have to be a choice? 

Maybe the "people" and relationships we seek in our lives just take time. Maybe as time goes on, you learn to leave 5 minutes later when meeting your chronically late friend. Maybe you learn to bite your tongue a little bit,  take a step back when things get too emotional. 

Maybe the reason why my parents have been married so long is because my dad is the only one that can handle my mom when she's stomping around the kitchen at 6 am because no one made the coffee. Or because my mom is the only one that can handle my dad when he's feeling ill, and she asks him what he's had to eat all day and he says, "chips". 

I've also learned that maybe I put too many expectations on friendships and relationships. I put people in one single category because I'm too afraid that's what they're doing to me. If Korea has taught me one thing thus far, it is patience. Maybe I need to learn a little patience in order for me to see the genuine friendships/relationships I've made. Perhaps it's just time.