Another One Bites the Dust

I recognize that I shouldn't be so glib, but it is rather odd that 2009 has been the final year for so many famous people. Adam Goldstein was 36 years old and a prominent name in the electronic music industry. And here we go again with the celebrity gossip. He was linked romantically to Mandy Moore and, more famously, Nicole Ritchie, daughter of Lionel Ritchie. DJ AM was found dead in his apartment and of course there was "a pipe commonly used to smoke drugs" there too. Sigh. Why do we always have to focus on this? It's no secret that the industry is wrought with drug use...I was going to go on, but I won't. It just is. But really, do they have to draw attention to the only negative aspect of the industry? Of course they do: since they don't understand these people, they resort to villifying them. Sigh again. It's just sad that there doesn't seem to be any dignity to celebrity death: once you sign up for stardom, you are destined to be picked apart by the media (and by concerned mothers) until you retire or die.

I of course, have a grotesque thought...who does this picture remind you of? I force myself to think nothing but healthy thoughts.

Too Cool for School

The Ombudsman of Ontario has just released a report about Cambrian College, a Sudbury school that "dooped" its students into thinking they would receive accreditation in a program when, in fact, they weren't. It's scary to think that after two years of schooling, you could be told that what you just studied and paid for means absolutely nothing to a rival school, an employer, or to the governing body to which you believed you belonged.

Anyway, who cares, right? Well I do because Leanne was the Investigator responsible for interviewing the schoool, students, and officials to publish this report. Super cool, right? You can watch the whole press conference by clicking this link: http://www.ombudsman.on.ca/en/media/press-releases/2009/too-cool-for-school-too-press-release.aspx but you can also see Leanne (!) really clearly in this You Tube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLZ6JM8mg08&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Eombudsman%2Eon%2Eca%2Fen%2Fmedia%2Fpress%2Dreleases%2F2009%2Ftoo%2Dcool%2Dfor%2Dschool%2Dtoo%2Dpress%2Drelease%2Easpx&feature=player_embedded at 1:49. She looks quite pretty (oh, and very professional).

Way to go, Panny!

Why?

There is a poignant arrangement of notes played on the piano and then a simple question: "Why?" I haven't heard this Annie Lennox song in the longest time. But as soon as I hear the first few notes, I'm catapulted back to February 2001. We're back from a brief weekend at home: back to school, back to life, but changed now. I'm walking into Alumni Hall for my biology class that I share with about five hundred other students. The professor has this habit of playing a mixture of popular classics and horrible golden oldies over the speaker system. The music usually welcomes us in and ushers us out: it's volume ensuring it can't be ignored.

I stop dead in my tracks when this song starts. I turn around slowly, and there's Carolyn, up about twenty rows, directly ahead of me. She has her feet on the chair ahead of her and she's wearing a neon sweatshirt. I can't recall if it's orange or green, but it's neon, I can remember that. It's only been a fragment of time since Al died and my breath catches in my throat as we share a glance. It only lasts a minute, but I feel a connection to her that I remember in my chest to this day. And one line haunts me, "I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind/ But I can still read what you're thinking." And I could read what she was thinking. We were both submersed in pain, sharing it over the rows of orange and maroon chairs.

I guess in retrospect, the song is about regret, an emotion I'd rather do without. As I get older though, there are moments I certainly do regret...just a few still, but they are there. They weren't there then though. The song was pure and only asked a simple question about why terrible things happen to people we know, people we love, people just like us. So now that I've accumulated a few regrets, now that I can look back and ask myself, "Why did you do that? Why did you let that happen?", the words mean a little more than they did then. I feel the same surge of emotion as I did on that cold day in London, but my past is different now. I'm not sure who I'd like to say these words to, and I'm not even sure if the song is appropriate, since the words reek of finality. After all, there is time for everything; maybe even ridding myself of my regrets.

"This is the book I never read

These are the words I never said

This is the path I'll never tread

These are the dreams I'll dream instead.

This is the joy that's seldom spread

These are the tears, the tears we shed

This is the fear, this is the dread,

These are the contents of my head.

And these are the years that we've spent

And this is what they represent

And this is how I feel

Do you know how I feel?

Because i don't think you know how I feel.

I don't think you know what I feel."

Renoit at the SeMA: Solo in the City

Picture of large Renoit poster, taken from third floor exhibition platform

After, embarassingly, sleeping through a farewell party on Friday night, I woke up early on Saturday feeling rested and ready for a big day. I talked to my mom for two hours, which was really nice. I find it so easy to talk to my parents from far away: we are so used to talking on the phone anyway, Skype is almost an improvement in our communication. My mom's educated advice is always intelligent, studied, and helpful. Though I ask her about differences in culture and how she thinks I should handle situations, she knows the human psyche, the human condition. I guess it transcends all racial lines. I went to the gym and came back home to get ready for a day at the museum. At long last I was headed to the Seoul Museum of Art, near City Hall Station on the number one (dark blue) subway line.

The subway was packed the whole way: was every single Korean visiting Seoul today? Jeesh. I read, obviously, so I was entertained. When I arrived, I was astonished at just how many people were there. Museums at home get busy, sure, but not like this. There were line ups for each painting! It was just silly. Oh, Renoir was at the SeMA: hence my excitement to go. I had never seen Renoir. Mom told me she saw Renoir in Paris at the Louvre when she was there. How romantic: I was seeing the same paintings my mother saw some thirty years earlier. It's amazing how intricately connected we all are, isn't it? I digress. The exhibit was amazing. Of course you can't take photographs of the artwork, but I spent about three hours perusing them, so I'm pretty certain they are stuck in my head, at least for a little while. This is the outside of the museum, just as dusk was falling. Even the building was artful: this tree was shadowed on the wall purposefully: they called it the wall of light...images changed every few minutes by lighting up a different natural element of the property. So cool.


I had visited the museum on my own on purpose: I wanted to see the place by myself without the pressure of moving on or staying put. Art is very personal to me. So when all the art in the place was seen, including the two other local exhibits and both gift shoppes, I wandered around the neighbourhood, drinking in the sights. They were having a free outdoor concert on the lawn in front of City Hall. It was called Seoul Open Night and though the first bit of music they played was not my style, they totally shocked and awed me later. On stage were men playing all sorts of instruments, beautifully dressed, and singing their hearts out. It was really nice. On the lawn, families gathered on blankets under the bright night sky. I was told later that the reason there were a multitude of police officers, complete with riot shields and helmets, was because this is a common ground for protests. There were hoards of them: on every corner, strategically staggered across the walkways, and along every road that surrounded the island upon which City Hall sits. They were a little intimidating as a mass, but up close, it was apparent that they were no older than boys and the possibility of them inflicting any injury to me was non-existent.

Looking directly in the opposite direction, I snapped my first shot of the Seoul Grand Tower. It reminded me so much of the CN Tower, but I didn't feel homesick at all this night. It was all too beautiful. The night was cool for the first time since I've been here, and it was so easy to walk, take pictures, drink in the sights. It felt very human there: not Korean or Canadian, just human.


To the right of the Tower, the Seoul Plaza Hotel overlooked City Hall Island. It was massive, impressive. I had to go inside. After all, you must surround yourself with luxury in order to know what luxurious things you want in life. The Italian restaurant, Tuscany, had this spectacular menu. It was 85,000 won for a five course meal: zuppa or salata, antipasto, pasta or risotto, carne or pesche (yeah so what, I'm trying my hand at Italian now...it means 'meat or fish'), and dessert. Oh my god, it looked so good I almost threw my budget out the window and dove in. But I think it would be a better meal if it were shared, so I just drooled over the menu for a few minutes. Perhaps I'll return to splurge. They all spoke such beautiful English too at the Plaza. Oh, Canadian customer service, where have you gone?

I came out of the hotel, feeling energized and wealthy in so many ways, and rested outside on a bench. And then the Koreans surprised me: the orchestra started playing a song I knew vaguely, bringing back memories of Laura at the piano in her parent's living room. Korean Raoul starting to sing "All I Ask of You" and (gasp!) it was in English! I was amazed. The gal who played Christine was amazing. Phantom of the Opera is coming to Seoul in September, so I suppose they were getting the public excited about it. Talk about bringing back memories (of elementary school!) of the Big Toronto Trip my parents and I went on. What a privileged life I led, I couldn't help but think...and still do lead. It made me feel so grateful for all the culture I was shown, all the patience I was taught, to appreciate and respect art. Even though my mom and I left the Hamilton Philharmonic once during intermission due to mutal boredom, my childhood was wrought with opportunities to experience the beauty of art. And I was so moved about all this, I actually got a little teary-eyed right there outside the Plaza Hotel.

I looked around..."I live here", I said to myself. "I actually live here. It's amazing. People are milling about, enjoying the night just like I am: they are tourists in their own city. They are me, taking pictures of the CN Tower after seeing it a hundred times or more." The night was cool for summer, fall was in the air. How many nights, I wondered, did I spend like this in Toronto? A few. Alone? Never. What a liberation that I was there then, alone, drinking it all in.
So I'll splurge here instead: if the Phantom is in English, I'll buy a ticket.

After that, even Deoksugung palace couldn't really impress me. Still, it was nice to see some traditional Korean architecture survived the uprising of the city around it.


So if you can fully grasp the emotion of the night, my writing has done the memory justice. I feel like I'm starting to get my bearings, feel a littl more at home, and can stretch out my legs and get comfortable. I'm embracing all that the city has to offer, trying to drink in as much culture as I can. I didn't want to come home to Hamilton last night. Didn't want to drink a glass of wine in Alicia's kitchen and talk about the same old stuff. I wanted to go for dinner, by myself, to a Vietnamese restaurant. I wanted to smell and taste and see where I was and imagine where I was going. It all felt very, very good.

Yin Yang

I'm learning a little something while in Korea about complimentary forces. It is customary here for a woman and a man to be different because they are different. For instance, men can cough loudly, spit, and smoke. Women can carry children, wear high heels all over town, and cover their mouths when they laugh. The idea behind this, before any of you start getting all up in arms about women's rights and women's liberation, is that without a woman, a man would not be complete. And vice versa.

There is an astonishing social pressure here to marry before a certain age, to pair up AND to have children. But not just children: a boy and a girl. That way, there is a child to care for the mother and the father. I believe this pressure is fueled by the notion that we are so different yet so intricately tied to one another, that to live without the other is a life not worth living. But I'm not sure that they have it right...


I got to thinking about complimentary pairs and what this all means when we are searching for love. We are increasingly obsessed with finding a mate who makes us "whole", who "completes us" (thanks a lot, Jerry Maguire), who was the missing link for all this time. But where is the equality in that? One has to wonder why we are looking for a missing piece of ourselves...aren't we good enough right now? Why does something have to be lacking in order for us to be paired with someone else?

I see this over and over again with my friends: they honestly believe that without a mate, without a person with whom to share life, they are less of a person themselves. They agree with the Korean philosophy: a life without another is not a life worth living. Come on!

So I want to introduce a new notion: perhaps it's a bit radical, but I think it just makes sense. Suppose we are looking to find someone to compliment us, not complete us. In this way, we are perfect the way that we are (or at least pretty darn good) and we would be just fine on our own. But if there was that one person; that special human; the kindred soul to ours, perhaps we could be enhanced a little.


Is a delicious meal not wonderful on its own? Do we not savour the flavour and proclaim aloud or to ourselves, how lucky we are to have such a fine meal? But then, miraculously, we take a sip of wine and POW! the food wakes up. Ah ha...the feast is complimented, not completed. It was doing JUST FINE without the wine, but it's just so much better with it.


Next time you think about a mate--the wonderful pair to your life and your world--look around for someone to compliment you, not complete you. For you are fabulous on your own. After all, yin and yang is all about the balance of chaos and order. We all bring our own chaos, our own order to each relationship...maybe a little more of one or both would make the mix perfect.

I know I'm still looking.

My Korean Yogi

I have joined a Korean gym. I go as often as I can. They have yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I've gone both days this week. So I've noticed a few interesting things. First, the yoga class seems passive, not as active as the Body Flow at Goodlife, to which I had become accustomed. However, in being that passive, there are some moves that totally rock my world, leaving me sore and tired the next day. Secondly, the women in my class, mainly around my mom's age, are incredibly flexible. They sit with legs straight out in front of them, head pressed to their knees. I can't imagine North American women doing that much after the age of 30. It's amazing. The teacher is so cool: she talks so calmly, gently, then comes around to each student, correcting positions harshly, pushing a stretch past the point of pain. She tells me she is studying English and is sorry her vocabulary is so poor. I look at her as if she's just slapped me. I tell her that she has hands, a body, and mad skills: who needs English? Surprisingly, I find myself looking up to see her very rarely. I can understand the language of positioning, contorting, yoga-ing. Again, the obsession with the English language stuns me. Despite this though, she is fabulous. I'll be back on Tuesday.

Anna is the only good news you'll find here...

I'm a bit of a celebrity junkie, so when I found out that they are doing a documentary about Anna Wintour, I was thrilled. She's the wonderfully bitchy editor at Vogue that Meryl Streep's character was based on in "The Devil Wears Prada". I MUST download The September Issue when it becomes available. Oops, I mean, I must go see it legitimately when it comes out. Argh: political correctness. The hardships of a life gone public ;)

Speaking of celebrity gossip, the judge has ruled in the Chris Brown case. The guy totally beat the blog out of Rhianna and what did he get? What was the retribution?

According to http://www.imnotobsessed.com/, Brown has to,

• Perform hard labor at Commonwealth Catholic Charities in Richmond, VA
• Take a 52-week domestic violence course (are you kidding? Is this like Young Drivers for abusers?)
• Stay 100 yards away from Rihanna, unless they are both at an entertainment-related event (then he has to stay 10 yards away)- this will last for 5 years (and after 5 years, he can just kill her)
• Keep in touch with a parole officer (imagine that conversation? "Hey man." "Hey dawg, how's it goin'?" Puh-lease.
• Stay away from dangerous weapons (does this mean he can't be around his fists? Because if we could somehow control that, I think I would feel better. And how about the car in which he kept her captive to beat her up? He can't be around those either...now that would be retribution.)
• Pay $2,500 in restitution
• Pay $2,500 in probation expenses
• Pay a $30 criminal conviction fee
• Pay $400 that goes into a domestic violence fund (riiiiight. Because they only deserve $400 of this douchbag's hard earned money.)

Is this a JOKE? He was her BOYFRIEND, a trusted affiliate...and he beat the snot out of her while she was locked in his car. And he has to pay a total of $5,430? Oh, but he DOES have to stay away from dangerous weapons. And talk to a probation officer, probably more like a NYPD-wannabe who idolizes him. Give me a break. This angers me. Chris Brown is a public figure: a celeb. He is loved by so many dopey teenagers, I can't handle it. Stars have a responsibility, call it a fiduciary responsibility that holds them accountable at a higher level than lay people.
Warren Buffet says, "It takes twenty years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it. If you think about that, you'll do things differently." Too bad this only applies to those in finance and not those who bombard our check-out shelves and reality TV stations. Twenty years? Stars make it and break it in two years, if they're lucky. And somehow, dorks like this still make it after a debocle like this.

This loser should be put in the same category as Michael Vick and sent to live on some island where nothing good ever happens. Like Australia, but ugly and violent and not at all tropical. Maybe it's time for me to re-evaluate why I'm so starstruck. Here's the DB looking proper and posh. You can't fool me anymore, Chrissy.

Further to this, Michael Jackson was found to be murdered (more like manslaughter than murder, from my interpretation of the report on www.CNN.com) by his personal physican. The King of Pop had so much trouble sleeping the night before he died, that his doc gave him quite a few meds in order to lull him to sleep. When this didn't work, he gave him the one thing he really liked, propofol. This, creepily, was what Michael called his "milk" because it helped him sleep so well. He looks like he needs a glass of milk. Spooky.


This man was not a healthy specimen of a human being. I feel so sorry for someone so sick and so wealthy, that he had (needed?) a personal doctor. Ew. He was like a really old man but he was only 50. What a shame. BUUUUUT, on an interesting note (dad) a list of his assets show that his Beatles Catalogue was worth $1.15 billion. Can you imagine that much money? Of course they go on and on about how he only had $600,000 in the bank. Who cares? The day you have 1.15 billion dollars on the black side (that means "in assets"), that is when you can complain about so "little" in the bank. I was a financial advisor at one point, remember? Michael was actually doing the right thing with his money :)

Enough gossip for one day. I feel Hollywood-ed out. Yeah, wooded out. I know. I think I'll return to my novel and get back to a headspace that's a little less complicated.

I might be the Biggest Loser right now...

I watch this.

I'm not proud of it, but it is the best thing going sometimes. Korean TV is not exactly English-only-speaking-friendly, so a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. A new bunch of overweight humans have appeared on channel 32 here in Korea, so I'm hooked for yet another fat-busting season. Can you blame me? They are so motivated. Who wouldn't go to that ranch to shed a few pounds? I'm pretty sure we would all love it there.

Give it a try...you might (shamelessly) love it too.

Have a great, healthy, day!

Mild Night Out

Saturday was a long day for me and when it was over, I was in the mood for something relaxing. Not quite jimjilbang relaxing, but definately not a night out at Slang, dancing and carrying on. Matt and I went to the Wine Bar around 9 and settled into a nice spacious booth. Jeff, his friend Ross, Dan, and his friend joined us a bit later. The wine was flowing and the talk was friendly (except when I, a non-sensical, non-political person started raving about the Liberal Party and how wonderful they were. Too bad I couldn't make one valid point. I'll have to do some research...blonde moments followed).

I love this place and think they need one in Toronto. All you can drink wine for a set price (in this case, 14,000 won, which is about $15). Sure, the quality of the vin is a bit compromised, but it reeks of home (I mean really HOME...like your own living room) with everyone lounging around, discussing life. We could have quite a few good, as Tammy Lucas used to say, Dumb-Offs at this place (a dumb-off is a conversation usually had when intoxicated where the sheer nature of your talk solves world issues, one after the other. It is brilliant and very helpful for mankind...it's the least we can do).

Anyway, I stumbled upon an article about hapiness and want to elaborate on it over the next few blogs. It is a ten-step process to help you identify your own hapiness and then allow it to come to fruition. I always did say that hapiness was not something that happens to you, but rather, something you work hard to achieve. If anyone ever told me, "I'm not happy", I would think to myself (or retort aloud, in some cases), "Well that is because you have to make yourself happy. Find what makes you happy and do it." I'm glad I've gotten softer and refrain, for the most part, from retorting these days.

So that's what's to come. For now though, here's some pics from that fateful Saturday night...

Matt's kind face


This was the least offensive picture of Dan

Salute!

Sunday: a new hope awakens

We met Paul in the subway station, while pouring over this really nice 3D map Matt got from a co-teacher. Paul commented that it was a nice map, mainly because it was, less because he wanted to talk to us. Turns out he’s a Korean preacher for a missionary and he wanted to exchange phone numbers. Since I’m open to meeting new people, trying new things, I gave him my number, without much thought that our paths would ever meet again. But then he sent me a message on Saturday night when we were out at the Wine Bar and asked if we’d like to join them for lunch on Sunday. I was a little trepidacious to say the least: this was not some bar or fried chicken place. This was an invite to a personal home. Matt was on board though, so I agreed to go.

We were to meet at Beomgye station and he would drive us to his house. We had visions about going to a Korean family’s house. How different would it be from our teeny apartments? Would eating with them be strange? We hoped for the best, but honestly expected very little.

When we did finally get into the car, since we were waiting at the wrong department store, it was cool, comfortable, and clean. A good sign and indicator of how the house would be right? Turns out I was right. His wife Louise met us down at the door and walked us to their apartment. The place was not what I had expected. It had a central hallway that broke off into a bedroom on the left, kitchen further down, bathroom at the end, another bedroom on the right, and living room right beside me, to the immediate right of the front door. It was bright and airy. The kitchen reminded me of what we find back home (complete with a stove! Swoon!). It felt like a real home. And they made us feel so welcome, it was really nice. Sometimes here I feel like a leper, other times I feel like a movie star. At this house, however, we were just welcomed guests, no more, no less. It felt natural and a bit like home.

There were two other guests there already: a couple who had immigrated from North Korea fifteen years earlier. They didn’t speak English, but our translators spoke quick enough for us to understand his story. And what a story. They were sure that God had led him to South Korea, but I, being a literalist, wanted to know exactly HOW he came to live here. Did he travel by foot to China? By boat to South Korea? The answers to both were yes, though the details were a little vague. Needless to say, he was glad to be here, living a great life and I never did get the physical details of that whole story.

We were joined by another foreigner, Jeremy, who was only in Korea as part of a long vacation. He told Matt that he was an actor in LA but work was short right now, so he took the opportunity to backpack around Asia. He had been through South East Asia and China already and was continuing through for another few months. He was very interesting, comfortable in his own skin, and acclimatized to his surroundings well. Unlike us, his chopstick wielding skills were superior. I am sure I will get it eventually.

We were also joined by Lydia, Paul and Louise’s youngest daughter. Her older sister was in England studying and participating in a mission for six months. Lydia was chatty and her English was wonderful. It was a real joy to meet a teenager who wasn’t shy, didn’t hold back, and wanted to talk unabashedly to us. She had so much to say, and she helped to explain some of the differences between the Korean and the North American cultures. It was very refreshing.

Lunch was served and we were relieved and satisfied. Louise cooked curried pork with rice and vegetables. Of course the traditional side dishes were out in full effect, bringing the large table alive with an eating frenzy. We had a nice lunch: conversation was fluent, everyone was talking, and the food, of course, was delicious.

After lunch, Paul wanted to talk to us about his mission, but he wasn’t pushy or authoritative. He was kind and compassionate, loving the fact that Matt and I went to church knowing it was going to be in Korean (did I blog about that? What an experience. But aren't all Catholic churches the same, really? Turns out, yes). Then he played Joel Osteen for us, a pastor at an enormous Houston, Texas church (more like a stadium). Well Matt was just about in heaven!

Joel talked about how we see things with a tainted view how negative things can look to us. We have to clean our own soul, get rid of our own “dirt” in order to see the beauty that is in front of us in the world. It was such a message to get on Sunday, August 23, 2009 of all days. A joke punctuated the words: A man got into an accident and was yelling at the woman who hit him.
He said, “You have to be more careful. You are the fourth person who’s hit me today!”
I took the following message from his speech: only after we acknowledge that we are not perfect, sometimes wrong, and definitely capable of being better, can we start to see that it’s okay that others are imperfect too. Sometimes we have to point the finger of blame at ourselves to fully appreciate that we aren’t always faultless in this world. We all play our own part in how our lives play out. Without our own influence we are just innocent bystanders. And I am not a bystander. It is time to reexamine what I’ve done, how I’ve gotten right here. Will I change myself to change my life? Or will I remain the same to keep the track of my future going in the same direction? Sure there are things that work but there are a plethora of things that don't. Am I ready to take the first steps to change what hasn't worked so far?
It was no coincidence that Matt had that great map that day on the subway. No coincidence that we met Paul, no coincidence that I got that message on that day, and no coincidence that it hit me as hard as it did.

We declined a ride to the station from Paul and walked to the bus instead. And don’t you know, we finally found a library? It is super close to the park where we play Frisbee each Monday night. Another non-coincidence. What a day.

Oh the Music...

Doesn't it just take you back? You hear a song, even the opening guitar riff, and you are catapulted back to a time that, hopefully, brings a wide smile to your face. I just heard Kings of Leon's "Notion" because I am so fortunate as to have Canadian radio out here in Korea. I was brought back to a time when running 10 km in the London winter was just the start of a workout, when rising from bed later than 7:30am was unheard of, when I was still a Mustang, when new beginnings were on the horizon and every single day seemed to hold more promise than (could it be?!) the day before that. Recalling feeling that happy made me happy again. Isn't it amazing that at the exact same time I was probably in the most depressed "place", emotionally speaking, that I could be in? And yet, there it was: hapiness surrounding me, embracing me, tempting me with its infectious power. Its a great day.

Belonging(s)

I got to thinking about belongings the other day...what they symbolize and what it really means to belong. To start, I have to admit that belongings--things-- really matter quite a bit to me, perhaps more than they do to others I know. I really do hate to admit that. I remember seeing things at my grandparents' house as a child, and actually staking a claim on these things for when they died. I was absurdly fearful of them passing away and thought, foolishly, that if I had this one thing to remember them, I would be alright. But really, what is an espresso maker without actually having coffee with Nonna and Nonno? Things never do matter...or so I've learned. I would prefer to think that the things symbolize a memory...and that without that thing, you still have the memories, right? But what if you have no real memories to conjur up in your mind? What if all that you really had together came in the form of things you acquired?

So perhaps it comes as no surprise that I cling to these belongings, these things, to symbolize that Big Part of my life. In essence, they are all I have left of what was. And they sit now in Shalaina's basement, carefully packed away, some used, some still loved, but most are idle, unused, unloved. They are no longer part of a life, for that life is long over. I think I clung, still cling, to these things because they symbolized not just a period of my life, but also a hope that they would bring Us together, they would mean something to someone other than me.

Think about it: things help to make a house a home, to punctuate an event, to colour a life. They usually come from loved ones, which makes them evermore special. And the great thing about things is that you use them everyday: we cooked on them, ate off them, ate with them...almost like we ate with the people who gifted them to us, shared those small daily moments with loved ones.

But then I remember a more realistic view of what My Life was back then...and it was riddled with dinners alone, dishes washed alone, food packed in Tupperware alone, essentially a lot of lone use, not coupledom. So perhaps the clinging was always there: perhaps I clung to the notion that one day we would share these things together, we would enjoy these small moments together, we would have a life together. And that time never really came.

I hope I'm not painting a picture of lonliness here, for I wasn't really lonely: I had the dream of a richer life to keep me company. And I really did think that day would eventually come. It had to, didn't it? After all, wasn't this what we both signed up for? Apparently not.

So the dishes were packed away, the glasses that did hold some good wine, I will gladly admit that :) were carefully placed in the basement where they reside now. I've stashed the real memories just as carefully in the far reaches of my mind. Dealing is so much harder than just "moving on" and, as it turns out, than moving away. However, it is time to dig up some of those old memories, to sort through them rather than point a blaming finger, and figure out what I did to help it all end so poorly. I think that is what soul searching is all about.

So I've started to think long and hard about what belonging means. He never did belong to me...perhaps for awhile I belonged to him. But we never did belong together. And isn't that the saddest thing? Maybe I clung so hard to the things we had because we never had one another.

I'll raise a glass to this, the first epiphany of and away from My Old Life. I'll toast a life I know I'll have eventually: may it be enriched with the best wines my mouth has tasted yet.

Lions and Tigers and...African Zucchini?...oh my

I perused through Carolyn's gift today, the Lonely Planet: Korea, and decided to head to the National Museum of Contemporary Art. It is conveniently located on the light blue line, four stops from Beomgye, so it was a quick trip. Matt and I left around 1 pm, after a light lunch, and were really surprised that the stop, Seoul Grand Park, really lived up to its name.

Unlike most stations, located in the centre of a busy part of the city, this one opened up to a parking lot. Confused, we followed a small crowd to an entrance of The Seoul Grand Park. Oh. Of course, there were vendors on the path to the park, selling meat on a stick (I'm so grateful this is a Korean specialty...SUCH a perfect snack), doughnuts, and random toys and souveniers, the likes of which we have all seen at an amusement park. However, there were also palm and face readers (face readers? Yes.) waiting to tell us our fates. I thought the older gents probably only spoke Korean and since I don't, and didn't want to know that my future was being told to me in a language I couldn't quite grasp, I walked on, a little hesitantly. I can't say I wasn't tempted.

The main building of the Park was huge. I'm not sure what it contained, as we were taken by the huge map that was before us. But what really stole our attention was the Sky Tram above. It was a no-brainer that we would take the Sky Tram to the museum, as it was a perfectly sunny day for a view of this park. The gal who manned (womanned?) the ticket booth spoke just enough English for us to understand that we would have to purchase a one-way ticket to ride to the south entrance of the zoo (there's a zoo here too?!) and if we wanted to go further, would have to also purchase a two-way ticket in addition to a zoo ticket. Hey, for ten bucks, why say no, right?

The journey on the Sky Tram showed us the most beautiful vista I have seen in a long while. In fact, with the exception of the top of Mount Stanley and Dance Camp in Algonqin, I haven't seen a view this exceptional in a long, long while.

This was the view from the tram, just as the ride started. To the right, a bridge we would later walk over to get back home (remember zucchini...it'll be funny later); straight ahead was a glorious mountain, whose range spanned the whole vista; and to the left, an amusement park (out of this picture). Holy mackerel. It was SO worth the $10. Oh, note also that there is a safety net below us (sarcastically, I felt sooooo much safer. Yeah right).

This is the view from mid-ride, looking back. We were surrounded by mountains all day: what a wild ride!

This is the amusement park that was off to the left hand side, also surrounded by mountains.

Here is a grandfather with his granddaughter in tow...she looks thrilled to have her photograph taken :) Behind them is the National Museum of Contemporary Art. Did I mention we didn't quite make it there? After all the excitement of the ride up, and after the purchase of the zoo admission, it was a simple solution: we were going to the zoo!

The whole ride took about a half hour in total. We were moving at the speed of a turtle, so it makes sense that it took awhile. Plus, you don't really want to rush moving over a huge river with only a scant net "keeping you safe". The tram flew (flew! Hahaaha...more like meandered) over the entire zoo, so we got our first glimpse from above. I really don't like zoos as a general rule: I find it cruel and unusual that we cage and confine animals for our own pleasure. But then again, we do the same thing to cats and dogs when we keep them at home, and this zoo was very well taken care of...so I swayed a little in my convictions. When in Korea, do as the Koreans do, or so I've learned. Needless to say, nothing is more majestic than seeing a male lion lounging out on a hot day. They are such amazing creatures. And to see them from above? Magnifique!

Here is the rose garden, located in the Children's Zoo, on the left side of the Sky Tram. If you can fully appreciate that it is a full circle, with roses planted all throughout, you can perhaps understand the Koreans' obsession with beauty. Everything is carefully planned, executed, and maintained. After all, people WILL see it from the top, so it must be esthetically pleasing at all angles.

The real zoo adventure began when we landed from our Tram ride. After a quick stop at the rest room, we were off. We started with the descendents of dogs: coyotes, wolves, foxes. It was amazing. The zoo here, much like all of Korea, is compact and they have found really great ways to use space. Like not giving the animals any room to move around in. Honestly, I wanted to bust those wolves out of there. It must have been a full moon or close to feeding time: they were pacing like lunatics in their confined areas. Perhaps I should go back to my original zoo-stance? But I walked on.

The large cats came next: leopards (dad, it reminded me so much of that Robert Bateman painting: amazing), three kinds of tigers, and, of course, the lions. And then, all of a sudden, we were in Africa. I mean it. It wasn't just the animals either: there was a gift shop (the ONLY one we saw) that had all things African. Well, perhaps not ALL things African, but jewlery and art was actually MADE in Africa. I was confused. Doesn't Asia have any indigenous animals to gloat about? Strange. So when in Africa, do as the Africans do (?). That hardly sounds politically correct. Anyway, in "Africa", the elephants were bathing and eating...

Isn't that just magnificent? He was rolling around in the water too, splashing, having a hootin' hollerin good time :)

And lastly were the giraffes. They were in the middle of dinner and this was the funniest shot I could find...of me AS a giraffe (giraffes are to my right):

Just when the fun was over, we walked back through the vista again, looking back over the amazing mountains, through these beautifully-appointed pergolas...only to discover that they were covered in zucchini vines! And they had ZUCCHINI growing down from the tops. Only in Korea. You know at home how we wrap grape vines over large arches so the fruit grows down and is easily ready to pick? I guess they do the same thing here, only with huge gourds! What a riot. Oh phallic Korea...you do make me laugh.

I'm sure I'll get to the Museum at some point...I do have a year.

HOW did I miss THIS?

I know that the inventor of the electric guitar passed away the other day, and I'm really sorry for the loss to rock and roll, but I have to draw your attention to the most shocking news I have read on a celebrity gossip site so far today: John Hughes is dead at 59. What the hell? I haven't actually blogged about my top five or ten movies to date (its still too soon), but I will divulge that Home Alone is my number ONE. I know. Don't roll your eyes. What did you pick? Scarface? The Notebook? Pu-leeease.

Here's what The Superficial told me just now...

"Director John Hughes died of a heart attack today, according to TMZ:
Hughes suffered the heart attack while taking a morning walk during a trip to NYC to visit family.He directed such '80s hit films as "The Breakfast Club," Weird Science," "Sixteen Candles" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off."He was 59.
He also launched the career of Macaulay Culkin which enabled him to grow up in Hollywood and date Mila Kunis. .... I'm going to say "rest in peace" now, but I might not entirely mean it.
Rest in Peace, Mr. Hughes. I guess." (that was cold. Just cold)



And when did Macaulay Culkin date Mila Kunis? Good on him. See? I knew Kevin McAllister would come out on top in the end.

I'm shocked. Really shocked. We've lost a good one. Doesn't he look like such a nice man? And he was WALKING when he died. Who can say that? Poor guy.

Temples, Markets, and Bicylces, oh my!

I met with Brent last night and his lovely girlfriend, Greta. We met up in Itaewon and had dinner at a Moroccan restaurant. It was super nice to see people from home again, despite the fact that I hadn't seen him since the ninth grade. Something about old friends sharing food and stories from back then makes a night here feel like walking down old Sutherland Street. Or Upper Paradise, for those who hate elementary school references.

After dinner, we walked around a bit and headed north to Dangdaemun. They have a night market there where wholesalers come to share their wares with store owners and buyers. Unfortunately, since I wanted to take the subway home, I had to leave by about 11, which was before the market actually opened. I vowed to return though.

So this morning, feeling rejuvinated from my "travels", Matt and I took the journey back, this time by bus. It took a ridiculous amount of time (note: buses here are usually the faster way to travel, but not this time. Could it just have been because of Sunday traffic? Who knows.), but we got there eventually. The sights were so nice during the day, but less was going on. Below is a temple, a national treasure, located just outside the subway station, at night and during the day...

And then the stream (river?)...again not much can be seen at night, but surely the vista is pleasant during waking hours:

Naturally, we managed to squeeze in a delightful Mexican lunch (why eat anything but Mexican if you have the option? I know you all agree with me. Did you know that salsa is the most popular condiment worldwide? Now you do.). The owner of the restaurant, a foreigner himself, told me the restaurant business in Itaewon is demanding and he was exausted. Rightly so, the teeny tiny place was packed. For reference, it was called Taco Amigo, near What the Book and I gave it an 8/10 for authenticity and flavour, but a 6/10 for value. Where are the plethora of chips? And SALSA? I didn't travel to Korea for a lack of salsa. Ha-rumph.

On our way home, this time via subway, we missed the transfer at Guro, and went a bit out of our way. Lucky for us though, because we met the most interesting people. I would say they must have been in their 40's...a married couple, so obviously in love, who were travelling the world (literally) on their bikes. Originally from Geneva, they speak fluent English, French, and I'm sure other languages as well. They had been at it for five years already, and had covered 42,000 kms. They travel alone and carry 60 kg of gear with them on their bikes. They do guest lectures for some extra money, but live pretty economically for the most part to support their lifestyle. They started in South Africa and had travelled to Korea. They'll be leaving soon, and hope to continue for EIGHT more years. Can you imagine? They're off to Australia next...what an amazing turn of events. They use Couch Surfers and have had really good luck in their four experiences so far. I'm going to give them a whirl when I venture out to Busan. Anyway, since so many want to follow their journey, you can too...

http://www.balladavelo.net

Oh, the site's in French, but since we're a bilingual nation, I'm sure we can get through it juuust fine. Enjoy!

Traditional Korean Wear...and Pumpkins

On the way to the park, we spotted these two men, dressed head to toe in traditional Korean clothing. I had to wonder two things. First, is it hot in there? Second, how cute are they?

And then I saw the Invasion of the Pumpkins in a local store. Later, I saw this show on Korean cable about a guy who can peel and seed pumpkins unusually quickly. Seriously? This makes TV here? Sta-range. Still, worthy of a Korean Photographic Moment, thinks I.

Sunday in the Park

The last day of Korean National Holiday (informally) was last Sunday. As usual, we found ourselves at Central Park in Beomgye. This week, however, since the day was sunny and hotter than Hanna, every parent with his or her child(ren) were also there. I caught some images of the lively park...and all the lively children.

We regularily hang out at the basketball courts (more accurately, at the IGA just behind the courts where we have beers after frisbee on Mondays). They are kept so nice, I thought it was artful to photograph them. Just beyond this picture is the park pictured above.

Mom tells me I look about seven years old these days...I figure any decrease in age is a good thing, so I'll take it as a compliment. It is really nice to be on holidays in a foreign land: so much to see and do. Blog soon...A

The Magic of Vuitton

I didn't have anything to do today, so I surfed the internet to find pictures of the finer things in life. Brent (yeah, BRENT from St. Patrick's Elementary School [sorry, Laura] lives in Korea!) let me know that he is going to be in Seoul tomorrow at Jongno5-ga. He tells me there are a lot of knock-offs there, but since I'm not at ALL interested in that, I'll just look around :) I see there is a real Vuitton store in Gangnam...hmmm...this bag is called the Neverfull. How perfect is that?
Oh, and they have AMAZING shoes too. Sure, not in my size, but I can look, right? Tomorrow can't come soon enough!

More like Curse of the Arachnoid

Turns out I was bitten by a spider.
Don't worry mom, I went to the pharmacy (read: Korean doctors you don't have to wait for) and they gave me what I assume is an anti-inflamatory/hydrocortisone gel. I'm to apply it twice daily and I should be back to normal in no time. The wound reminds me of that bite I got in the Dominican on my left back, remember that Leanne? Ga-rossssss.
I'm resting now. Pour on the empathy. Or sympathy: I'll take either one.

The Curse

Okay, I joked about the Swine Flu one too many times and now I think I have it. Of course, this is probably not true, but I am feeling rather flu-ish currently. I got home last night after a gruelling subway ride home and started to feel like death. I ate some delicious (why is "delish" spelled the way it is, but "delicious" spelled with a "c"? Again, the desire to be an English teacher burns bright.) pasta riddled with garlic and tofu (so very Italian), but still didn't feel any better. Needless to say, I slept all day today and feel a bit better. I think all my major organs are slowly failing due to ibuprofen intake (Alicia says you can take three at a time...I listen to the nurse), but I'm feeling far less achy.


I'm not trying to evoke sympathy here. It's just hard to be under the weather when your mom, dad, and Girls are all so far away. So I've decided to shake it immediately. One more good night's sleep and I'm back to business.

You know Munch, the same guy who painted, "The Scream"? He painted "The Sick Child" as well. Okay, it IS a sympathy grab. I miss you all :(

Alright, Marshall Mangan has nothing to do with my recent success, but since he was my favourite professor at Althouse, I thought I would pay hommage to him when I tell you all, excitedly, that I qualify for the Additional Senior Math AQ course. WITHOUT taking an additional course through Western! I'm thrilled! Even though it is English that calls my name, I think I might be able to squeeze in some English here and there. Hey, I might get sick of it after all this Korean time!
So I'm due to get paid at the end of the month and then I'm going to ship over my hard-earned money and be a slave to education once more. I can't wait! I'm going to be a math teacher! Sure, it's boring, to most of you, but I happen to love math :) So, as Marshall says (he's the draft dodger I told you all about, for those who need your memory jogged), I'm Back to Home!

"...for this U is our U and for her we'll strive to

do our best to fight with might and mame (what's mame?)

we'll always adore her

our old alma mater

Western school of fame..."

(yes, I know the school song...don't you?)

New Year's on the Beach

Nathan and I have decided to travel together for the first time in 27 years (well, it'll be 28 by then) to Thailand for New Year's Eve. I have yet to talk to My Man about vacation time at that time of year, but I'm so excited! I'm sure it will all work out.
So I'm on the hunt for a good deal on travel, specifically flights, to Bangkok. I would like to leave on December 30 (permission pending) and return a glorious two weeks later (can you IMAGINE two weeks in this paradise?). I want to spend about ten dollars. Canadian. But I'll go up a bit if totally necessary :)
So if you are bored and want to search for some flights for yours truly, I will be eternally grateful. I've tried www.cheapoair.com and the lowest fare I've found is $457. Yikes. And 19 hours of travel? What the blog?!
Maybe Leonardo Dicaprio will be there?? A girl can hope right?

Korea's Phallic Objects Abound...

We went for a hike on Friday, since Matt, Jonathan, and I were all off. We were supposed to meet at 8 to beat the Korean heat, but one of us slept in and we were delayed until 9. Good for me...Paris Baguette and the array of croissants was calling me anyway. The start of the hike up Suri Moutain (no, not Tom Cruise's kid...come on, get serious) was this hauntingly long flight of stairs from the street where my school is. It led up to a landing that held a monument commemorating the Korean War and all the soldiers who died during it. It was the first of many phallic objects we saw, but goodness, this was beautiful. Around us, the cicadas were singing their adament songs and we walked on.

A map met us next, helping us decide to first climb to the summit and then journey over to the swinging rope bridge before heading home. There were no distances marked on said map, so we estimated from the map that this should all take us about two hours. Ha!

We reached various plateaus through the forest; areas where we met up with Korean who were hiking also; areas specifically designed for working out with stratigically-placed workout equipment (in the forest! Strange). We also saw various signs, all indicating a direction and a distance to a destination which was marked in Korean. Jonathan had the genius idea to photograph the map and later compare the signs with our photo. Too bad none of the signs coincided with the markings on the map. Did they want to confuse us? Often times, after being duped into climbing a daunting hill, we surmised that the sign actually read something to the effect of, "You dumb foreigners, if you take this particularily enticing climb up, you will see nothing at all! But go anyway, dumb dumbs."

At long last though, the climb did result in a much anticipated view of our fair city. Below, an image of what we saw on our first of two summits:
Anyang is spread out before us, our house off the pic, at about five o'clock on the image.

The hike was HOT and even though it was raining outside, we were shielded by the canopy of trees. I was surprised to see maples, elms and oaks (is that where acorns come from? I can't remember. That was sixth grade science, I remember that much), as well as a multitude of evergreens. I'm sure there were also trees indigenous to Korea (or south Asia), but I didn't notice any. Hey, cicadas don't chirp in the deep forest. I hypothesized that they prefer the open air...even here, I'm a scientist (oh brother).

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of the other phallic symbol we saw (actually a pair of them). These two things are actually one of the Anyang attractions, visible in all the tourist books. They are cone-shaped pillars that stretch about 40 feet high, maybe taller. We stood beside them and felt pretty insignificant. They act as markers to indicate entrance to Suri Mountain from one side.

At long last, after talking to countless (okay, three) Korean men who helped to point us in the right direction, as well as one Japanese man who told us it was SO close, we finally stumbled upon the rope bridge. After seeing this picture, my mom was sure it was comprable in size to the Capilano Swinging Bridge, but I assure you, it was very short. This picture flatters the old bridge :)

Matt dropped his camera down the slots between the slats on the bridge, so him and Jonathan climbed down the steep embankment and, thankfully, retrieved it. Crisis averted.

All in all, we hiked for four hours. Amazingly, it was mostly uphill, save the last painful half hour, where we travelled down a paved road, straddled by these strange homes/restaurants/organized community (?). Strange doesn't really explain it. I didn't photograph it: I wanted to get out of there. And my feet really hurt. I remember Eric once told me that when he and his family were in Austria, they hiked up a huge ski hill in summer, and when it was time to go down, they all ended up with blisters on their feet. Isn't it odd the things you recall?

We caught a bus back to our house, since we ended the hike about a half hour walk from where we started and we were in NO mood to walk on a city street after all that calm and serenity.

I think I'll request my hiking shoes from home though...that walk was hard on the new sneaks.