Broken

Though he's usually a pretty positive guy,

Fracturing your thumb in Koooorea is never a good thing.

Feel better soon, Friend (pink cast and all!).

House Dreaming

Alright, I know I say all the time that I've resolved to live in a place just like this when I go back home. This is true. But eventually, I will have Little Ones that will need a place to jump and grow, so I assume I will have to move on up, as they say.

Here is what I was thinking...

This concrete paradise is the Quebec home of Paul Bernier and Joelle Thibault, as seen at dwell.com. Swoon. I endeavoured to do something like this in my own front yard (well, at least I had some pebble stones or whatever they're called in there)...




...but it never quite had enough time to mature. Somehow I think if I still had the house, the little front garden would have evolved into something like this. Alas, there are more gardens to be had; more visions to come to fruition.

Still, it was a cute little abode, non?

Hipster Hilarity

So here is some not so good news: Matt has fractured his hand. I'm not sure just where he's hurt it, but he reports from the hospital that the cast is huge. Can't wait to get a glimpse of that. Poor guy.

On a lighter note, I love Unhappy Hipsters. It's a satirical commentary on the people photographed in and around, more often than not, stunning architecture. I couldn't pass up this comment: I had to share it with you. The image is courtesy of Misha Gravenor for Dwell, and the original photograph can be viewed here. Though the pic is gorge, it is the caption that leaves me just about rolling around on the ground.

In their quest to bring the outdoors in, they hadn’t considered the possibility of the mutant rock formations that were now encroaching. While not overtly threatening, they thought it best to stay on this side of the deck.

Laura's just penned a masterpiece about US climate legislation (or rather, lack thereof) for reuters.com. They're a pretty big deal. Check it out. Congratulations on another job well done, Laura. We're rooting for you!

When Art Comes to Life

Carolyn posted a link to this artist on Facebook and I feel in love instantly. The concept is called "Wonderland" and is what happens when kids' pictures get translated into adult photography. Brilliant. You can check out more of Yeondoo Jung at his website. Here is the link to Wonderland. Enjoy!


Inspired by this hurly-burly...

...came, "He Didn't Sleep for Three Days."

And from this fantastic starry night...

...came, "Miss Sparkle Sprinkles the Magic". Aren't you in love?

And quite possibly my favourite rendition from this umm...darling portrait...

...comes, "The Magician Turned the Wale [sic] into a Flower".

Golden.

Yeondoo Jung has many permenant exhibits in Korea and North America. Click here and go check him out!

the Battle

A friend of a friend of mine is in Afghanistan right now on tour with the Canadian Armed Forces. If you are anything like me, you have never been touched in any way by the reality of war: have never had a relative in the army; have never lost a loved one to battle; have never heard stories of time spent on the battlefield. It's strange to even think of someone facing this on a daily basis.

He is a good soldier, a good man, and he'll return home safely. Such a strange world in which we live, non?

Naming Names

Hi, my name is…

When the Ghost wanted to ensure that I knew how he felt, he would use my name. He would say, "Come on, Alexis", or, "Yes, Alexis." The best though? "Good night, Alexis."

It will sound strange, but very few people actually refer to me by name. Almost everyone I have ever known has refuted this fact, but I tend to notice it more than all of you do, shockingly (that was a tad sarcastic). My parents alternate between honey, sweetie (Dad's favourite), and sweetheart. It's rare to hear them say it: them most of all.

My friends use variations of my name: Lex, Lax, and Alicia's hilarious retort (because it's always said as an exclamation), "A-LEX!" Chantal used to call me Alessis, and Shalaina tells her children she's, "on the phone with A--le--ck--sis." It's hardly the same. My Nonna uses my name all the time, but her version of it is so heavily accented that it loses its poignant effect.

So it may now come as no surprise that when I do hear my name in full, pronounced the way I know it to be said (and not like a Korean, for instance), I pay very close attention. So much so that I don't really like to talk to my new neighbour Chad because he insists on using my full name. It feels too intimate somehow.

I brought this to Matt's attention and he, like the rest of you, was shocked. He made it a point to say, "Good night, Alexis" when I left his house and it helped me recollect quite fondly.

It's really the smallest things that bring memories flooding back, isn't it?

Have a good night, ____(insert full name here)____.

Little Red Corvettes

Bought a little Korean nail polish and...

...went to town.

My Korean neighbours are fighting again like mad animals...and I'm left wondering if I'll have to teach tomorrow or if it'll be another day of chair minding.

Clutter

Being that the old contract is coming to an end here in Korea, I've started to take stock of all the things I have, both here in Korea and at home, scattered around the homes of my friends. I've come to realize that I'm a changed person. Let me explain.

I used to save everything. I'm not exaggerating. I have an empty box of chocolates from my tenth grade boyfriend. I have since filled it with all things from that relationship and the one that followed: movie stubs, random bronze statues, bracelets, necklaces, letters...you get the picture. That was a LOT of years ago, yet even though I've moved umpteen times since then, I can probably pinpoint (in fact, I just did) exactly where it is in the piles upon piles of stuff at Shalaina's and Alicia's (do I have stuff anywhere else?). The point is, I like to keep things. I think they'll matter later. Sometimes they do...but then I start to question my sanity. Why DO they matter so much later?

My changed self thinks an uncluttered, small home is best. After all, do I really need a two and a half story house unless I'm just going to fill it with stuff I don't need? Maybe not. And, as I attempted to convince Leanne when we Skyped this weekend, I'm fairly confident that when I move back to Canada For Good, I will live like I do now: in a teeny tiny (okay, small...that's more realistic) place, close to work (just with a bigger kitchen for the oft thrown dinner party I'm bound to have).

The Mother Hen is the champion of all things decluttered. She should probably take pictures of her house to prove it so I can post them and show you. In fact, when they moved from the house to the condo, there was a huge purge and they ended up with just enough of everything. Case and point: I gave my mother two strawberry-print mugs as a gift. She proceeded to toss out two perfectly good mugs to allow room for the new ones. She's ruthless. Don't misunderstand: she recycles, donates, and finds new uses for things all the time too...she isn't wasteful. I was shocked to see her storage unit in the condo basement. It has a vibe like this bureau...

image courtesy of chezlarsson.com

Go down the street to the house of my Father (the pack-rat). He, like me, saves everything. Perhaps he thinks movie stubs from his first date will somehow become important sometime in the future too: who knows. At any rate, I come by the hoarding honestly.

But I've decided that from now on, no more! I will donate, give away, recycle, and just plain toss out all the junk I don't need. And that's that. This after reading some organizational blogs and having the story of the Collyer brothers brought to my attention. Disgusting! Read on...if you dare.

from the New York Times on October 26, 2003...

In lugubrious tones not unlike Boris Karloff's, my father described the vague aura of evil that had endowed the four-story brownstone on the northwest corner of Fifth Avenue and 128th Street for much of the 1930's and 40's.

And it was there that they amassed one of the world's legendary collections of urban junk, a collection so extraordinary that their accomplishment, such as it was, came to represent the ultimate New York cautionary tale.

The Collyers had carved a network out of the neck-deep rubble.

Homer went blind in the mid-30's and was crippled by rheumatism in 1940. His brother nursed him, washed him, fed him a hundred oranges a week in a bizarre attempt to cure his blindness and saved newspapers for him to read when he regained his sight. Hundreds of thousands of newspapers.

from psychologistworld.com...

The Collyer brothers were first mentioned in the newspapers when they got in trouble with the bank in 1942 after they refused to pay their mortgage on the house. Langley eventually wrote out a check after police had come crashing in the front door, only to be stopped by the huge pile of junk set up to keep people out.

from the New York Sun on April 13, 2005...

By the end of the second day, according to the Times, the first floor hallway alone had yielded 19 tons of debris. Thousands of passersby walked or drove by, but the Daily News reported that "few lingered. ... They were driven away by the smells."

A Surrogate's Court official hired movers on March 31 to empty the house. After ripping out the cellar doors, they began removing Homer's 2,500-volume law library, only a 10th of the books in the house. Amidst hundreds of tons of garbage, they found family oil portraits; hope chests jammed with unused piece goods, silks, wool, damask, and brocade; a half-dozen toy trains; 14 upright and grand pianos; chandeliers; tapestries; 13 ornate mantel clocks; 13 Oriental rugs; five violins; two organs, and Langley's certificate of merit for punctuality and good conduct from Public School 69 for the week ending April 19, 1895.

By April 3, the Herald Tribune reported that the movers, in clearing only two first-floor rooms, had removed 51 tons of stuff. Another 52 tons later, on April 8, they found Langley's body. Police told the Sun that his clothing may have snagged a tripwire, releasing a booby trap that had buried him alive in paper.

from psychologistworld.com...

Finally on April 8, 1947, workman Artie Matthews found the dead body of Langley Collyer. It turned out he was only ten feet from where Homer had died. Three huge bundles of newspapers covered his body. Langley had been crawling through their newspaper tunnel to bring food to his paralyzed brother when his own booby trap fell down and crushed him.

I'll think twice next time I want to save a momento pamphlet from a Korean palace or buy a Mexican sombrero ;)

Superwoman, child, supersomething

Some sights make you feel on top of the world.

This one did it for me.



Imagine the thought that went into this...

Someone bought a Superman shirt (I couldn't snap her front without being too obvious) with a cape on it

or (and I prefer this reality), someone made this outfit for this little angel.

As a direct result of seeing this picture again,
I am loving life right now.

Park O'Men

This is a statue of a man who fought for Korean independence during the time of the Japanese occupation, outside the gates of the Jongmyo Shrine in what my Korean Mum calls Pagoda Park. Read on for some strange occurrences.



Here are the scads of men. Not a woman to be seen as far as the eye can see.

And here are some pretty pink flowers for the park of men ;)

This video is entitled, "Am I Supposed to Be Here?", as it's the last thing I say before it cuts out. You'll see why.

Jongmyo Shrine

Inside the gates of the shrine that houses the remains of some of the Royal Family, are a great number of women weeding the lawn. Pretty nice, eh?

Yours Truly, approving.

Another, wider shot of the women hard at work (on a Sunday, might I add):

The gorgeous forsythia everywhere. Love this time of year!

The view from outside, looking in at the shrine. It was quite magnificent.

As I left the shrine, this was the spectacular view from atop a small hill.



Winter, Friends, is over.

Changdeok Palace

I started off at Jongmyo Shrine, but somehow manged to wind my way around to Changdeok Palace. At least I think that's where I was. The signs were a little more than misleading. What else is new around here?

I love how the sun is making these fantastically vibrant colours faded and tired. I love a good, um, temple? What is this thing called? Lovely. I'll stick with "lovely".




I've said this before and I'm sure I'll say it again: I'm obsessed with Korean children. They are trained from the get-go to avoid smiling in pictures (though it is their innate urge to do so...they have to fight that...at this age! Sacreligious!), and they are just so damn adorable in their get-ups, I just can't help but snap some unsuspecting pictures. I get a real hoot when other Korean people (who aren't the children's parents) are doing the same thing that I am, however. They're THAT cute. Here are some twins...or "same same" as we like to call them.

This one was posing hard earlier. Now she's eager to get off this ledge and on with her day.

Getting ready to mount some stairs...

Step by step...

At last, the ultimate prize: seeing the vista from the top. I love it.

And here I am, at the top, narrating

As I exited Jongmyo, I found this little glen, perfectly suited for a quick picture. My oh my, doesn't it look like home? A forest is a forest wherever you go, I guess.

The Pond at Changdeok Palace

I'm a little downtrodden as I add these photos, quite possibly the worst of the bunch. This was the most beautiful of the tour: the ponds, and the colours didn't photograph well. I'm probably using the camera wrong or something. It was rather bright...maybe the ultra bright sunlight isn't easily combated. Anyway, I am sure you can absorb some of this magnificence from the rear gardens of this palace.

The whole place was just bursting with possibility. Practically every plant (aside from those who had already taken the plunge) was ready and waiting to bloom. I'm sure if we could capture the potential energy in each one of those buds, we could have powered the world for a few hours. It was remarkable. Here, the fabulous forsythia blooms on the left (lordy, do they have some fine forsythia in Korea!), the cherry blossoms take up most of the pond's opposite bank, and three girls sit among these nearly budding pink flowers, taking it all in. What a day.

One of my favourite shots. The trees are almost there...almost fully alive with leaves. It's a remarkable time of year.

Again, with the old men.

In fact, I was so enamoured, I asked someone to shoot this one of me.

The Whitehouse Greenhouse

I haven't the slightest idea what this place is. I mean, it's a horticulture centre of sorts: a mecca of found-only-in-Korea plants. But what it's doing here (in this country, in this palace) is a mystery. And since I hate reading those placards to actually determine what this structure is (I usually just stand there while my company reads, then I ask them to tell me what it said. I'm practically illiterate when it comes to those things. I can't stand reading them. It's almost as bad as looking at vacation photos...yuck. You should have seen me at the Alamo. I know nothing about the place, though we spend hours there. Placards...who needs em), I have no idea what the actual history is. In fact, I made up my own variation of the truth. I don't think I'm far off, but who knows.

This garden where the greenhouse sits was built for the women in the Royal Family (queens, princesses, their maids). I imagine that one queen especially loved plants and commissioned the building of this building. We'll stick to that.

Imagine my surprise though when I stumbled upon it in all it's Western architectural splendor. I'm still wowed. Looks reminiscent of the Royal Botanical Gardens, non?

Inside, a family posing for what would become my picture.

I love old Korean men. They have so much character when they do the most asinine things.

My attempt at being mysterious ;)



And this...this spectacular pond outside the greenhouse (white house, if you may). The colours were so rich, so alive. I hope it's magnificence translates.

Leaving the Palace Gates

Matt says that once you've seen one palace, you've seen them all, but I adamantly disagree. I think this country has a subtle, hidden beauty that is not only hard to find most of the time, but is revered by the very people who, for the most part, are not so reverent. It was a joyful day on Sunday, punctuated by the fact that the sky was clear, the wind was warm, and I got to see all of this before it was too late. Gorge, as I like to say :)

A river runs through it (the moat, of sorts, that runs the outside of the palace)

Look at those colours! So beautiful!

Yours truly, loving the day.



And this caught my eye on my way out to catch the subway. These are the palace walls, visible from the street outside. The newness of the colour green is magnificent and the juxtaposition of the rough wall and the gentle plants with the sun hitting my face...outstanding.