la guapa

finding a voice

2010-05-26T13:39:00.000-07:00

last night, with one of my dearest friends in the world, i got to experience the force that is massive attack. i've spent a bit of time writing here about music -- going to shows and having some pretty incredible experiences. music is and always has been my life. i mean really. i collect it, i seek it out, i relish in the feeling of that song or that riff that transports me to some other place, some other memory. i've been listening to the new massive attack album pretty obsessively for the past however many months, starting with the Heliogland EP. the first time i heard 'pray for rain' i got that rush --a transporting, transforming, what-the-hell-am-i-hearing rush. now, i know this isn't their best song, or nearly their best album. i get a lot of 'they were better long ago' opinions. but for me, there's something deep that this album reaches. and, really, i cannot resist hope sandoval. i melt every time i hear her.

last night, the very talented songstress, martina topley-bird, performed with the band, and she was fantastic. they all were. i didn't have many expectations for the show. just an opportunity to get in front of huge sound and lose myself for a while. i got that...and quite a bit more. the stage set up was comprised of a huge backdrop of LED ticker display screens a few inches apart, creating a canvas for words and digital images that cascaded behind the band throughout the show. it was so simple. and so amazingly powerful. every word, every image, politically provocative, triggering, highly charged. snippets of descriptions of torture from gitmo, quotes about freedom followed at the end by a simple question: "What the fuck, Arizona?" In case you didn't know, Massive Attack has something to say.

other images included silhouettes of people migrating, perhaps across borders, perhaps to refugee camps followed by running headlines from the tabloids. stats and facts from around the world -- number of days someone can be detained without cause in a dozen countries (7 days in Ireland, 43 days in the UK, indefinitely in the US). the encore came off huge with a hard hitting version of 'Atlas Air' that began with the creation of a flight departure board listing domestic flights and then extradition flights, morphing into simple red, white and black graphic representations of flags that slowly transformed into a barrage of corporate logos rotating faster and faster until they all just blurred together. there was no question of the message: our priorities are fucked. our world is too. do something about it, for fuck sake.

say what you will about art and politics. last night inspired me, got me fired up, reminded me of why i live my life the way i do. i believe in art. i believe in its power to transform the way we think and feel and see and hear. music has been doing this for me my whole life. so has art. i've been working with the flaming lotus girls for about a year now, building huge, interactive, metal fire art. right now, i'm spending nearly 30 hours a week building a huge piece of art with a community of people who have vision and passion and brilliant ideas and who also believe that we can change something with what we do (http://www.temple2010.org). it may not be everything, but it is always something.

we've all got the opportunity to make something in the world. and despite how definitely dismal it all is, we are not the first to experience a moment in time that feels desolate and depressing and devoid of any hope for change. we are also not the first to find our voice and say something about how and what needs to change. and we are certainly not the first to try to inspire change in whatever way it's possible. i'll keep making art and teaching people how amazingly capable they are of doing the same, just as people have taught me. i hope you will, too.

(Image above via Flick user Umbar)

(Video below from YouTube User Fourad)

riding the uke wave

2010-03-27T16:41:00.008-07:00

ok, so here's the deal. the uke. it makes me smile unlike anything else i've ever really experienced. i was turned on to the uke by two fantastic people. and last month, i went to see the The Mighty Uke with them, a documentary about the ukulele and all its glory. now, i'm aware that i'm a wee bit behind the uke revolution of late. people all over the world heart this little endearing instrument. it's what keeps the amazing ms. amanda palmer up late writing songs about madonna and lady gaga. even the Canadians love it and use it as a gateway to musical education for kids. and in our fair city, in this bay we know and love, there are so very many hilariously wonderful people strumming along together just for the love of the uke.

on pi (pie) day this year (you know, 3/14), i was privy to one of those fabulous groups at a great party in west oakland. replete with literally scores of pies--sweet and savory, of course--the lovely and talented ukaladies performed a variety of pie-inspired tunes, many of their own creation. my favorite by far, aside from the rockin' rendition of warrant's 'cherry pie' they did while sexy pie ladies in red fishnets danced through the crowd offering teeny individual cherry pies--was '3.14159' sung to the tune of '867-5309.' who knew the uke could be so fun?

well, i'll tell ya. it is. i dare you to not smile when you hear someone sweetly strummin on this lil thing. it's pure joy. life hasn't been so easy this winter, and watching 'the mighty uke' may have been the first time in months that i had smiled and laughed quite that much.

tomorrow i've got my first strumming date. today, on a gorgeous, sunny spring san francisco day, i bought my first uke at Noe Valley Music. it's a makala concert uke. i spent the afternoon on pineapple pete's uke school site. i mean, really? it's just awesomely silly and fun. got myself 3 chords and some strummin done. looking forward to tomorrow. yay to making music.

"That's a damn fine cup of coffee."

2010-03-27T16:37:00.003-07:00

at 13, twin peaks blew my mind. and i am certain it made me who i am without a doubt. this article from the guardian about the show's 20th anniversary shares the thoughts of 6 veterans of the show and points out that, really, this show broke the mold. http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/2010/mar/21/twin-peaks-twenty-years-on

this show set in stone the kind of weird freak i was soon to become. my love for film -- strange, confusing, arresting, beautiful films -- came directly from my obsession with Twin Peaks (and, to be fair, my obsession with 'Rear Window' which definitely predates Twin Peaks for me. I first saw it at age 8, i think...). I can remember being on the phone with my best friend, Cotter, at a commercial break and having to cut that conversation off so I could go back to Agent Cooper and Donna. i remember my parent's friends having these parties every week where everyone would drink cocktails and swap theories about who killed Laura Palmer. and i remember feeling so cool that i knew and loved the show as much as they did. i *got* it. it made sense to me in all its complete nonsense and 'elliptical plot' ness.

takashi miike, almodovar, park chan wook, godard, truffaut, fellini, lynch, john waters, tood haynes, todd solondz, francois ozon. strange spanish films, strange french films, bizarro japanese and korean and chinese films. and of course, the strange and disturbing sensibilities of american film. these are what i love. worlds that make no sense, where nothing is as it seems, where every idea crushes what you thought was truth or reality. i have never truly loved movies with happy endings. never liked films where everything makes sense. they're entertaining. they're good for distraction but not for the kind of deep-down-in-your-soul transformation that comes from the likes of what david lynch created with Twin Peaks. that's what film, and tv for that matter, should be at their best.

it just may be time to watch the mystery of laura palmer unravel all over again.

harm reduction & burning man

2009-08-21T12:33:00.004-07:00

i wrote this today for all us flaming lotus girls to help us take care of ourselves...wanted to put it somewhere it could live and be useful to others...

whether it's your first year or you 19th, you can never think too much about how to take care of yourself out in the desert! it's easy to end up in the med tent really fast. lemme put my harm reduction/public health hat on and give you some ways that you can stay happy and healthy out there.

********************************************

HALT (hungry, angry, lonely, tired)

the BEST advice anyone ever gave me was this acronym: HALT. Like, STOP. take stock. all the time. are you any of the above? Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? These all apply at one time or another out there. Being really aware of what's going on with your body will help you deal with the challenges out there so much better. here's a way to approach this:

if you're irritable/angry/overhwlemed/burnt out: drink some water. Are you still feeling crappy? eat something. Are you still feeling crappy? drink some water. Are you still feeling crappy? stop and take a good look around you and remind yourself of the incredible. amazing place you are in, the tremendous art you have created to share and the spectacular privilege you have in being out there. Are you still feeling crappy? drink some water. Are you still feeling crappy? go talk to someone. talking it through and getting out whatever is happening is really helpful. son't feel silly about crying or needing to get out some serious emotions in some way. it happens to all of us.

so there you have it. HALT. seriously. tatoo this on your body. you will be glad you did.

GET HYDRATED & STAY HYDRATED

bring both water and electrolytes. as mentioned in the other email, liquid gatorade diluted with water (one part gatorade to two parts water) is a great way to do this. AND start hydrating right now before you leave for playa. The better shape your body is in before you land, the better you will be at adjusting.

ACCLIMATE!

take some time to acclimate to the playa. DON'T feel like you have to dive right in and start going full force. give yourself a little time to acclimate to the environment. We've all been working really hard for many months. Give yourself permission to take a little break when you arrive. Don't slam yourself to set up camp and work the MINUTE you get to playa. and drink some water.

EAT HEALTHY!

again, get your body ready to go out there with good food. build your immune system (i got really sick with a head cold last year after four solid days of working). eat lots of fresh fruits and veggies before you go and take as much of that fresh food as you can with you. this is also a realy important part of staying healthy out there. eating only crap processed food, sugary and salty snacks without getting good fresh food will run you down really fast. and drink some water.

TAKE BREAKS!

be good to your body. TAKE BREAKS all the time--no one will begrudge you the rest time. and DEFINITELY do not hesitate to tell other people to take breaks when you think they may need it. even if they're pissed and don't want to hear it, they (and everyone else) will thank you later. and drink some water.

SHADE & SUNSCREEN

For any of you who are sun worshippers like me (despite my irish, freckly skin), you may be tempted to stay in the sun just to remind yourself what it's like to *not* live in san francisco in the summer! DON'T! wear and reapply sunscreen all the time. get yourself in the shade as much as possible (SEE TAKE BREAKS...and drink some water. )

EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES

you know what i mean...those things you do when you AREN'T running fire safety on SOMA. There are lots of good ways to take care of your body *and* engage in these activities. first, if you're drinking, be sure to keep yourself hydrated throughout the day and night while you're drinking. dehydration from alcohol is compunded by the environment out there.a good formula: beer/water/beer/water/beer/water:) if choosing other activities, be sure to replenish your body's vitamins, minerals and, our favorites, neurotransmitters, regularly with some of the following: multivitamins, emergen-C or the like, juice, melatonin, 5-HTP (VERY IMPORTANT: this is a precursor to serotonin, and can help your body recoop after depleting it from your system. you can get it at any health food store or perhaps walgreen. i'm not sure.) and drink some water.

PACE YOURSELF

Again, see TAKE BREAKS. ANd generally don't burn the candle at both ends for the whole time you're out there. you wil be SPENT and really unhappy if you do. space out your extracurricular activities. binges and days on end of too much will take its toll on you and everyone around you. plan well and get some good rest at least some of the time. and drink some water.

HAVE FUN!

seriously. remember what an amazing place you're in, give yourself the freedom to be and do and experience new things and to really engage with people out there. and drink some water.

********************************************

that night

2009-05-14T20:03:00.003-07:00

We were told there’d be limited oxygen, so we shouldn’t breathe too much. We were told if we were claustrophobic, we should stay home. We were told to leave our phones and cameras at home or being blacklisted would be the least of our problems. We were asked to bring a bottle of water and $2.75 in quarters and good hiking shoes.

Are you curious? Want to know more? Well, since we’re all friends here, I’ll let you in on the secret…

It’s called Covert. It’s a series of adventures put on by the creative duo of John Law, original San Francisco daring adventurer, and Mark Growden, an extraordinary Bay Area musician. It was the first in their series, an initiation of sorts into the world of wonder they aim to create for those who choose to throw caution to the wind, take a risk, leave their twitterbots at home and believe in possiblity. When I first learned about it, it sounded slightly dangerous, a little illegal and wildly exciting. So, I pounced on the idea, thrilled at the thought of taking an unknown journey to a special place in the city with a bunch of strangers. So, Zsuzsu and I went together.

Friday evening, in a mad dash, we made it to Justin Herman Plaza right under the wire before our 7:01 pm departure. “We’re late! It’s 7:06!” John shouted. “Let’s go.” And off we went, all 50 of us clad in our hiking shoes and layered clothing, down into the MUNI station. Quarters in, transfers taken. “Follow the man in the top hat!” someone shouted. And so we did. We were herded onto the train. And then, I started looking around. What train are we on? Oh, the L-Taraval to the zoo. Soon enough the theories began to bubble. “Are we going to the zoo?” “But there are no hills there—they said there’d be hills!” “Maybe West Portal? Hmmm.” “The Forest Hill station? There are hills there.” “Yeah, there are…I bet we’re going there…” And with that, we were bonding. Strangers and lemmings, headed into the unknown. Giddy with excitement about what might come next.

And, wouldn’t you know it, the man in the top hat signaled our departure and as the train pulled into the station and the doors opened, out into the Forest Hill station we went. Up the rickety elevator, out the turnstile and through the doors into the cool air. Ahhhh. The sweet smell of eucalyptus. The pile of us walk down the sidewalk and start to move with the herd. I’m walking and catching up with an old friend when I realize: the herd has stopped. And they’ve stopped right in from a 25 foot Ryder truck parked at the curb. Ladder leaning against the side, it became abundantly clear that this would be our mode of transporation. And if you’ve ever been inside one of those trucks—and I *know* you have—you know there are no windows. But, with no questions asked, we climbed the ladder into the truck, swiftly as to avoid unnecessary attention. And then, we found ourselves in the tight, dark, confined claustrophobic, oxygenless space we’d been warned about. We all have a good laugh about because at least we’re not in a sewer.

We drive for about 15 minutes, and suddenly we hear the screeching and scratching of tree branches on metal, the brakes start to hiss and we stop. We’re instructed to keep it quiet—nobody needs to call attention to the 25 foot moving truck with 50 people packed inside. They might call the INS. Climbing out of the truck, we’re up against a bramble of blackberry bushes which snag my left hand as I try to squeeze past them. Now, my hand is cut and bleeding, and it hurts. My eyes are adjusting to the light. I’m pretty disoriented. I turn the corner and discover a set of stairs. The sting of the thorns in my hand, I climb the stairs. It takes a bit for me to get my bearings, but when I do, when I get to the top, I see that I’m at the start of a trail and behind me is a deep orange sun barely above the horizon. I can see the ocean from where I stand. And it’s clear. There’s no fog. It’s crisp and gorgeous. And the smell. That sweet, delicious smell of eucalyptus and fresh earth. In quiet, with the exception of a few yahoos who kept right on yammering, we climbed the hill passing ivy and wild irises and tiny blue wildflowers along the way.

As we neared the top, I suddenly recognize where we are. And then I hear it. The soft, dreamy melody drifting down the hill towards us. I turn to John, with an ear to ear smile and say, “Thank you.” The path leads us to a clearing where, atop a rock, sits two musicians. A woman with an accordion and a man standing above her. We gather around them on the ground, and they begin to serenade us with Argentinean flamenco songs. It’s a dream. It’s an unimaginable surprise. And, just as we’re settling in and reveling in the feeling, we’re up again. And we’re moving. We’re following the accordion to the next location. Here, we gather once again, huddled together against the cold wind that’s whipped up as the sun has dipped below the horizon. And what’s before us is now a small band of musicians – with an accordion, an upright bass and a trumpet. The music begins. As soon as Mark begins to sing with that haunting, passionate, powerful voice, I’m transported to another time, another place. The melodies, that voice, that accordion. So many fond memories held in those notes for me. We’re singing and huddled close and letting this experience wash right over us. And just as we’re getting comfortable and settling in…we’re up and moving again, this time into a circle to for a fantastic call-and-response experience called thread the needle. This finds us winding around in concentric circles, weaving in and out of each other and spinning and laughing and loving every minute. By the time we finish, the sun is no where in sight. It’s that deep blue of dusk now. And as I turn, I see it. The moon! My god will you look at that MOON! Pale but deep yellow, slung low in the sky, hovering just above the southeast part of the bay. I’d never seen the city from this perspective before. And rarely do you get to see it so clearly.

It would have been enough right there. It would have been enough to be transported in a black box and magically delivered to this forest wonderland. It would have been enough to be serenaded by Argentinean flamenco songs. It would have been enough to experience this intimate musical experience with Mark and his friends. It would have been enough to bear witness to this gorgeous moon hanging over the city. It would all, certainly, have been enough. Lucky for us, there was more.

We walked a little further across the hill and arrived at a small bluff. On the edge stood a leafless tree, blown westward by the ocean wind stretching its bare branches towards the lights below. Its silhouette against the midnight blue of dusk, and shadows of hills as its backdrop. Again, we discover the Argentinean duo and we drift back and forth, our bodies swaying to the soft pulse of the melodies. The wind at our faces, we choose to shift the stage behind us to shield us a bit from its bite. Mark moves in front of us now, picks up his accordion and sweeps us off into another world yet again. I look out over the city. I sing along. I find unexpected tears in my eyes and a smile spreading across my face. I am surrounded by people I do not know but with whom I now feel a kindred connection. We lean in closer to find warmth and protect each other from the cold.

Just before Mark plays his last song, he turns to us and says, “We may be coming up to a time very soon when we’re all going to need each other now more than ever.” And we all titter nervously, unclear on the meaning. “But even if we’re not,” he goes on, “we still need each other now more than ever. So lean in close, and sing along. Don’t be afraid. There’s no wrong way to do this. Just sing.” With that, our voices carrying out beyond our hill, beyond the houses below, reaching out beyond the bluff where planes like fireflies in the night sky circle and drift downwards towards the earth, we sang from our hearts, from our souls. And I felt so full—of life, of love, of possibility. That night, we celebrated the possibility of it all. I could never have imagined this adventure would fill me with such gratitude for the life I am privileged to lead. And as we finished, I breathed that air in deep because now there was enough for everyone. From that small, dark confined space, we journeyed to a place of infinite depth and light. Together, we jumped down that rabbit hole. And I cannot wait to do it again.

Tell me what you have and that's when I'll know if you have anything to start with...

2009-04-21T01:08:00.005-07:00

once in a blue moon, you get to a show just early enough to catch the opening band, and you fall in love. you've probably never heard of them. maybe they're local. maybe they're not. but something about the newness of the sound, the way it catches your ear and pulls you through, it sticks. and it leaves you wanting more.

this is my memory of mates of state. years ago, at slim's one night, we were introduced to their discordant, sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs harmonizing. it didn't hurt that, together, they're two pretty hot individuals. that week, i found a song i loved and put in on a mix. (don't ask me the name. such things have fallen out of my head). i've been singing at the top of my lungs to their complicated, beautiful melodies ever since. perhaps our collective memory can recall some details from the past--who we were there to see in the first place, who was actually with us and what the hell the name of that song is...

tonight, emalie and i made it to the independent to catch the first of two nights they'll be playing. we made it just in time to catch one of the two opening bands, black kids. can't say i fell in love in quite the romantic way i remember swooning over MoS, but they were pretty damn great. big sound, great set, jump around and have fun with lotsa instruments kinda music. after the set, some guy standing next to me asked if I'd come to see Mates of State. yeah, i said. well, what kind of music do they play. hmm, i said. well. it's kind of hard to describe. see, there's this couple, and she plays the keyboard and he plays the drums and they do this amazing harmony thing that's sometimes really discordant and strange but its beautiful and... you're gonna tell me the whole story aren't you, he asked. yeah. yeah i am. i guess i can't do it any other way. welcome to being me:)

two or three songs into MoS's set, i thought to myself, THIS, this is why I: a) love the city I live in and b) love that i'm alive and get to experience such things as the show that's happening in front of me. just as i was waxing nostalgic for the days of slim's and beer and dolores park on a friday so long ago, they yell out to a girl in the crowd and bring her up on stage to dance with them for their next number. "we met her outside, and she's awesome," they said. suddenly, there's some other guy on stage, and as the girl moves to the far left, he leans into the mic and, in only the way that can happen in my romantic, school-girl crush vision of this band, he proposes to this girl. "this city is so cliche," he begins. "i knew from the moment i met you..." and thrusts the box with ring in to the air. the crowd, all crushed out, just like me, goes totally wild. she, thankfully, says yes, though is rather baffled and dazed by the whole shebang. they kiss, jump into each other's arms and the band bursts into one of its hot, hot dancy numbers.

now, i'm not here to tell you MoS is the BEST band EVAH. i am here to tell you, though, that what they do is pretty damn great. they're good. talented, creative, energetic, unique and passionate. they sing about calling people on their bullshit, lying to the ones you love, doing it all over again, and making up in the end, after all. they hold a pretty special place in my heart and, every time i see them on stage, i think about the rush of love at first sight.

dear mates of state, thanks for coming back to the bay that was once your home.

infectiously brilliant

2009-04-13T17:51:00.008-07:00

Tom's latest creation: The New Fish Car

This morning i learned that a brilliant man lost his life at ocean beach yesterday. Tom Kennedy, art car genious, artist extraodinaire, inspirer of light and bringer of love was pulled down by the riptide yesterday afternoon. throughout the day today, nearly 70 people have weighed in on their memories of tom, the sadness of the loss, and the utter joy he inspired in their lives. you can read them all here at laughingsquid.com. a tragic loss but what a measure of a lived well lived.

I met tom just a month ago out at the box shop. bright eyed, i started going out the shop *finally* after many years of wanting to work with metal. running around the yard, i met haideen (his wife) and tom one sunday afternoon. haideen was in the process of making a gorgeous orange hippo for one cute lil’ 2 yr old lulu, and tom was busy at work on one of his many gorgeous bells. the bell he’d transported to the shop that day was tall and lizard green and stood about 6 feet. the bell itself is encircled by a heart of spiraled metal. the intricacy, the detail, and, oh, that sound! the gorgeous, deep, resonating sound that that bell made. he said he’d made one like it for his folks and that he and haideen were planning to box this one up and send it off to her folks. i was fascinated by the work–and by the joy and light that emanated from both tom and haideen.

last weekend, at a long FLG work day of packing up mutopia, i saw tom again. this time, while standing over the bbq table, i asked him about the bells. he told me all about the process, from beginning to end with all the steps in between–the practice, the experimentation, the evolution. he spoke with such relish, such excitement, such passion about the discovery. i told him about the project i’ve been mulling over–my first attempt at metal sculpture. in those 10 minutes we shared over pork sammiches, i got it–everything that everyone has written about him today on that post. my friend, mimi, has this great phrase she uses when she talks about people with such tremendous creative joy like Tom: infectiously brilliant.

Though my glimpse of him was so very brief, it will always be remembered as one of those great moments in life when you know: Yes! Of course! It’s all possible. All of it. Thank you for being infectiously brilliant, Tom. You will be missed.

i'm exactly where i need to be

2009-03-12T23:33:00.004-07:00

I feel powerful today. It’s a nice feeling amidst a lot of forces that aim to disempower. In the same day that I learned funding did not come through for the second phase of the project that’s been keeping me alive and well for the past four months, I got a call from some other folks in need of help on several projects over the next two months. And so, the balance is restored.

It’s a shame that each day we have to trudge our way through so much muck – fear, anxiety, Bernie Madoff and his high jinx , the dow, the unemployment rate, the latest company closure/layoff/consolidation. The media’s got us in its sights. It wants to take us down. But every day, the sun still comes up. Every day is new, pregnant with possibility. At least, that’s what I choose to believe. Because it’s all a choice, right? We can choose to be mired in the fear, or we can choose to find some pinpoint of light in the darkness that seems to be constantly closing in, according to the powers that be.

I had a chance to go to a yoga class today with one of my favorite teachers, so I took it. Some days get so hectic that I lose that chance. Les is an amazing guy, much loved by many people. What I love about him is his real-ness. He’s no bullshitter. He’s honest at every turn, and he calls ‘em like he sees ‘em. Doesn’t let me off the hook for much. Today, he spoke about two things that helped me see, once again, that I’m exactly where I need to be.

He started class by talking about the fear – the way we’re all walking around in utter panic about what we might lose…the way “they” want us to feel about everything that’s happening around us. “Well,” he said, “and I say this only with love. I hope you *do* lose it.” It wasn’t a statement of flippancy or a lack of compassion for the real issues in people’s live. It was a way for him to invite us into the challenges that we most fear. He wished for us not loss but the chance to face the fear we dread and to get right up close to challenge and see what it’s got to offer us. Can you be interested in the challenge, fascinated by it even, and allow yourself to get inside it and feel around for what’s it’s got to show you? And as he said this, a smile grew across my face. This is exactly what I’ve been working with (and writing about and trying to feel my way through) for quite a while.

Perhaps not a natural instinct, we’re often loathe to *invite* challenge into our lives. With so much on our plate, especially at a time when the chaos seems without end, the last thing we want is something else to find its way into our lives and complicate things further. But, really, we all know that the challenges are where the juice is; when we take them on – head on – that’s where we unearth the best discoveries. So, like Les said to me tonight, like my friend said about curiosity, isn’t it best to stand tall and strong and say bring it on? Without judgment or assumptions about what the challenge might bring, can I look it dead on and get interested, fascinated, excited, even about the possibility that exists in that space?

I get scared about the future and how things will play out for me, but I don’t actually know anyone who doesn’t get scared at least once in a while. But for me, it’s about movement through the fear, not paralysis. Every day I’m creating something new for myself – meeting new people, learning new tools, finding something that makes me thrilled to be putting one foot in front of the other. Which brings me to the second thing Les said tonight. As class ended, he reminded us about the invitation to challenge and in doing so, reminded us that we’ve all got a place inside where we go where we feel on it, on fire, alive, creative, excited. When we invite the challenge in, we let that place open up a little, and we find new ways to get there. We remind ourselves that no matter the power of the forces outside ourselves conspiring to show us otherwise, that place exists and it rocks. That feeling when you’re in your space, doing your thing – it’s unparalleled. For me, sometimes it’s an idea that takes flight and throws me into a new project, or writing about things I’m passionate about, or being in a yoga class and hearing my thoughts spoken aloud by someone, reminding me I’m not alone in this wide, wide world. The feeling isn’t a constant and it’s not easy to come by, I don’t think. Sometimes it’s quite fleeting, getting just a taste of what it’s like to feel fully free.

This is yoga for me – every once in a while, my body gets what my brain has been trying to tell it for ages and I actually *feel* what it’s like to be in a pose. Whether it’s one second or three minutes, my body remembers that feeling. It knows it’s possible. And each time I return to a pose, especially really challenging ones, the gripping hold my chattering brain has on what I’m doing slackens just a bit and lets my body find that place it remembers feeling. Even a glimpse of the possible reminds my body and my mind that there is another way. On the other side of challenge and fear and frustration and uncertainty, there is a whole lot of sweetness.

part 3: the magic of pai

2009-03-01T20:28:00.017-08:00

Early in the morning on my fourth day in Thailand, I embarked on a journey high up into the mountains north of Chiang Mai to the fabled magical wonderland of Pai (pronounced bye). I had heard so much about this town – people always “meant to go for five days, but somehow I stayed for three months…” Hmm. “So what did you do there?” I'd ask. “Do there? Yeah, I don’t know. I can’t remember for the life of me what I did there.” Pai is known for its surrounding countryside full of hot springs and waterfalls and hilltribe villages, but it’s even better known for its “do-nothing-every-little-thing-is-gonna-be-alright-rasta-vibe.” Hippie drop-out town, artist’s paradise, mountain hideaway. I opted to settle into the “do nothing,” float through the place experience. What I discovered though was so much more.

After a very winding 4-hour climb up into the mountains – made so much more enjoyable by long chats with a fabulous Kiwi couple who were traveling through Southeast Asia, I hopped out of my minibus and started wandering the town in search of the perfect spot for the night. The town is nestled in a valley surrounded by breathtaking mountains and jungle. Cotton ball clouds floated above, their edges tinged with the gray of an incoming rain storm. I was only able to stay there for one night, sadly, so I figured I’d splurge a little. Pai is a pretty small town with a few main streets and a river that runs along one side. I decided to head towards the river to see if I could find a little bungalow. And bungalows I found…thatched huts all along the water’s edge with swinging rope and wood bridges traversing the thick, tan muddy water. I found a lovely place to stay tucked back behind a few riverside huts. My little one-room hut smelled of fresh, clean sheets and deep, dark wood. I was completely surrounded by the largest tropical flowers I’d ever encountered – red, orange, purple, thick, lush. My little hut even had its own little porch. I dumped my stuff and decided to take stroll and get a feel for the town.

Before I came to Pai, my very dear friends, Jen and Michael, couldn’t say enough about a few little places they had discovered on their trip to the town. I was told that I must find Na’s Kitchen and Crazy Kitchen – that I couldn’t possibly go through my life without eating this food. Now, this town is full of the best little bars, cafes, and restaurants. And try as I might, I walked in every direction and couldn’t find either of the places I was told to go. It was blistering hot, so I thought I’d duck into an internet café to see if I couldn’t pull something up online. Asked the guy next to me, did he know where these places were? Blank stare. No. Definitely not. Sigh. So, I sent Jen and Michael an email – did they happen to remember where they were? Long shot to get a pinpoint on a place in a town with such a floating sense of being. Could be long gone by now, I thought. I walked out of the internet café into the heat of the day. Walked up to the top of the street, and stopped. I just have this feeling, I thought. It’s got to be on this street. I walked back past the internet café, and wouldn’t you know it? Na’s was *right* next to the very place I sat down to get my bearings. Right next door. Ah, everything in Pai is so very meant to be.

Na’s. How to describe my experience there. No, wait, experiences. (I ended up back for dinner, but that comes later in this tale.) The food was absolutely amazing. Open-air kitchen run by these wonderfully kind and beautiful women. The food so fresh and bursting with flavor. I ordered way too much food for lunch – spring rolls, spicy lath nah and ginger iced tea. Since I was fully embracing the decadence of life in Pai, I decided to make my way through the iced tea menu which was blowing my mind – jasmine green iced tea, lemongrass iced tea, more ginger iced tea. I read and ate and drank for a couple of hours. When finally it was time to move on, I thanked my generous hosts and found a pay phone where I called a Korean woman named Cindy whose name I got from my friend Suah in Gwangju. Suah had met Cindy on her travels to Thailand. Cindy hadSeoul the next morning for good. Back to Korea, the antithesis of her life in Pai. We agreed to meet later that evening for dinner and a visit to her friend’s house. been living on and off in Pai for several years, and as it turned out, the day I called her was her very last day in Pai. She would be leaving for I may have mentioned earlier how obsessed I was with meeting Koreans while I was in Thailand. Whenever I got the chance to speak Korean or hang out with Koreans, I jumped at it. Something about the familiarity. Strange though, feeling more comfortable with Koreans than with other westerners. I had grown so accustomed to my life in Korea, it was all I craved while I was traveling. Good thing I met Cindy.

I had hours before dinner, so I continued my wanderings around town. I found galleries and lovely cafes. I also stumbled on a great little artsy shop selling super funky postcards, t-shirts and bags called Mitthai in Pai. Great artistic and crafty stuff, retro and super fun. I just kept walking down this one road, partly in search of a spa whose sign I had seen throughout town and partly mesmerized by the incredible sky that loomed ahead of and above me. The clouds shimmered in front of the sun that had begun to sink towards the horizon. The sky had darkened and turned a gray purple that I had never seen before. The jungle seemed to swell with sound around me.

I found the turn off into the boutique hotel that housed the spa. Very swanky grounds. Spacious, dark teak wood and whitewashed buildings. As I approached the open air lobby, I saw a half dozen staff members standing beneath a great lychee tree. One young woman stood upon a bench holding a bamboo stick in her hands. She was thrusting one end of the bamboo into the tree to knock free the fruit to the ground. The others around her were catching the falling fruit in their skirts and hats. When I walked up, they grabbed a branch and handed it to me, smiling and wai-ing to me as I graciously accepted the gift. So very thoughtful and sweet. I took one from the branch, twisted it open and popped it in my mouth, the juices running down through my fingers and along my wrists. The taste was so sweet, sticky, refreshing. “Oh, no” said the woman escorting me back to the spa. “We think they’re far too sour.” “Ah,” I said, “but where I have been, in Korea, you would never find them quite this sweet.”

My escort and I meandered down a pathway that passed alongside the very posh bungalows lining the pool that acted as the centerpiece of the space. German couples and some other European men with their Thai girlfriends lolled around the pool or on their porches. Couples on their honeymoon, older people on vacation, men on fantasy adventures. Fascinating. I approached the blue house in the back which was the spa. As I entered, I came upon a lovely woman playing with a young girl. I was in such luck – everything was 30% off for some reason – so, I went all out. For three hours I think I paid $40. The woman took me back to an open air room surrounded by giant banana trees. The storm threatened in the distance, tropical winds blowing the curtains and the smell of jasmine across the room. The massage therapist was wonderful, the experience surreal. I had hoped the rain would come, but only dark clouds and thunder echoed through the room, a truly magnificent and surreal backdrop to the afternoon.
As I was walking along the road, watching the deep gray and black clouds roll across the valley, a woman passed me along the path walking the opposite direction. She was tall, beautiful, relaxed. Though, she didn’t look Thai. She actually looked Korean to me, something that was a little oddKorea. I passed and headed back into town, ready to meet up with Suah’s friend, Cindy, for dinner. I meandered back to my bungalow near the river. After a quick change of clothes, I was back into town again, this time, running into the couple I had met on the mini-bus. I sat and had a beer with them as the sun set and the night life began to emerge in bars along the street. Lights started to turn on, music began to emanate throughout town. The sun bleached streets and dark clouds gave way to a starry sky and clear night air. I chatted with my new friends for a while, killing time before meeting Cindy at the 7-11.

It was great to see Cindy and rather surprising, really. Her hippy appearance certainly was incongruent with my experience of Korea. She pulled up on her motorbike, and suggested we walk down the street to, wouldn’t you guess, Na’s Kitchen, for dinner. Ah, again! So wonderful. I can’t even tell you how incredible this food was. We had a great time at dinner sharing lots of funny stories about Suah, learning about Cindy’s life in Thailand and Pai, hearing about her fears of returning to Seoul. She would be heading back to her life and her family in Korea the next day – not something she was very thrilled about. Her life in Pai was so different – so independent, so charged with life, so easy to do and feel and be whatever she chose. She had some complicated living arrangement with an uncle, I think, and perhaps her money had run out, so she was forced to return to Korea with very little idea of what would come next in her life. I felt fortunate to have caught her on her very last night in Pai.

After filling our bellies with delicious treats, she suggested we go to a party with her friends. Sure, a party sounds great. So, we hopped on her moped and headed out of town on the same road I had been on earlier that day. We arrived at her friend’s house – a former cinema converted into living space. What I found was not so much a party as it was two people hanging out on a porch with beer. And when I got closer, I realized that the beautiful woman who I had seen on the street would be my host for the evening. She was, in fact, Korean, and she was living in Pai with her husband. They’d been there for maybe 2 years. Doing what? I asked. Nothing, they replied. Absolutely nothing. The night was warm and quiet. The sounds of the jungle reverberated around us. We lounged on pyramid Thai pillows and drank Chang beer. Some Korean snacks were spread around the table. I suddenly felt more at ease and comfortable and safe than I had in the 5 days I had been in Thailand. The familiarity of the language that was being spoken around me, the food, the company – I felt at home, strangely enough. We listened to this great, wacked out Korean music. We chatted as much as we could in English. And at a certain point, the man looked at me and asked, “You mind I smoke?” Huh? No. Of course not. Whatever. I certainly didn’t expect what came next. Out of his little can he started to pull small dried leaves which he then packed in to a glass bowl he pulled from his pocket. I almost died. Pot? You – a Korean – is about to smoke pot? Having lived in Korea for a year, I hadn’t seen anyone smoke anything other than a cigarette for my entire duration there. This was mind blowing. So very far from the rigid structure of Korean life. All the stress and anxiety that had been building in me for days, weeks even, suddenly dissipated. In those moments, I wasn’t a girl who was heartbroken and alone, aching for the company of the one she left behind, anxious for the future and confused by her present. I was just another traveler enjoying the company of strangers on their own journey.

As the night wore on, and we grew more and more tired, Cindy drove me back to my riverside bungalow. After a tearful goodbye, I walked the path to my place with so much gratitude and lightness in my heart. I was asleep nearly the moment my head hit the pillow, lulled by the crickets and the soft sounds of chickens wandering the grounds.

I awoke the next morning ready for a new day. I had found myself at different times spontaneously breaking into tears throughout the past several days. Today, I felt bolstered by the night before, ready to explore the town a little more and find some space to heal a little more. I found a lovely spot for breakfast – some hippie rasta wheatgrass juice joint where I had a delightful organic meal and excellent coffee. I wandered down the street half looking for a Thai massage school and half exploring. I found the stretch of bars with Buffalo Exchange at the end. I discovered the natural store and restaurant right at the bridge across the river. It was this location that a tragedy had taken place nearly six months earlier. An farang girl (foreigner in Thai) was walking with her Canadian friend near the bridge. The rumor is that a drunk, off-duty police officer came out of a nearby bar, got into an argument with the two of them, and for reasons unknown, the officer shot the boyfriend and wounded the woman. You can read more about it here: http://www.andrew-drummond.com/my-work/investigations/death-in-pai/

I had missed the massage school by a few doors. I discovered the rather hidden entrance and walked along a gravel driveway up to a small yard just off the main road. Here, I was greeted by the most joyful, kind woman I had ever met. Her smile sent rays of warmth through me. She would be my massage therapist. She took me to a small room and began to work on me. It was my first traditional Thai massage, and it was super intense. The emotional release grew stronger as the work progressed. As she moved my limbs and stretched muscles and tendons, the sadness and pain that I had been so overwhelmed by for so long just started to pour out of me. Tears ran down my face and the safety of comfort of this kind Thai woman allowed me the space to release and let go of what I didn’t need anymore. When she was finished, she directed me to the steam room outside where I could stay for as long as I wanted.

In Thailand, steam rooms are usually small concrete or brick structures in which dozens of different Thai herbs are packed into a space that is pumped full of steam. The aromatherapy experience within this space ranges from pleasantly mild to pungent and sinus-clearingly strong. I had that space all to myself. She wrapped me in a sarong and escorted me inside. I took a seat on the bench and began to allow the benefits of what I had just experienced in my body wash over me. Almost immediately, I was transported into a stream of memories, taking me on a journey all the way back to the first night I met Jim. It was an opening of a floodgate of emotions. I felt so very overwhelmed by what was happening. And as it was happening, I began to compose a letter in my mind, one that I would later write with more passion and intensity than anything I had composed before or since. The immediacy of the experience and the urgency with which I felt I needed to convey the journey was overpowering. Once the letter had been composed in my mind’s eye, I found some grounding in the steam room and emerged with some better understanding of the past two years.

I said my goodbyes to my massage therapist. There was some profound change that took place there. This catharsis had given me new ground upon which to take the next step. With a little more than an hour before my bus back to Chiang Mai, I decided to continue to explore a little while before settling in to put to paper the words I had composed in my head. While walking up another street, I noticed a Thai woman sitting in a doorway, hand-embroidering white shirts. Inside her shop were lots of peasant shirts and beautiful handmade goods. Not wanting to spend any more money, I nearly passed it by, but something in the jewelry case caught my eye. When I approached the counter and started a conversation with the woman and her partner, I noticed that her partner had on him dozens of pieces of Native American jewelry, items or turquoise and silver, with animal spirits and clearly Navajo roots. We engaged in a conversation about the pieces, and though I can’t possibly tell you where or why he had these pieces, I can tell you that they were beautiful people with a deep appreciation for the jewelry and its significance. In his case he had a number of black cuffs with turquoise embedded in them. I had never seen anything like them. Black coral, he said, from the depths of the Thai sea. It protects you, just as the turquoise does. One in particular caught my eye. And having emerged from my earlier experience with such a profound sense of self, I decided it was important to mark the experience with an object that held meaning and significance to me. I chose the black coral cuff that had first held my attention.

As I left the store and made one last loop around the town before jumping on my bus back to Chiang Mai, I was truly awestruck by the past 48 hours. My emotions were running in overdrive. I was up and down so quickly that before I knew it, I was back again in yet another cycle. This town, though, had given me all that it possibly could. It gave me some space to let these emotions swirl around me. It gave me some time to savor the sweetness of new experiences and new understanding.

part 2: afloat on a sea of mist

2009-03-01T17:22:00.019-08:00

Doi Suthep, a long road, new friends and a trip to the Night Bazaar

Up early after a long night of sleeplessness, I ask the manager at my guest house how best to getmyself to the temple in the mountains – Doi Suthep. “Oh! No problem,” she says. “You take songtaew to Doi Suthep. Maybe 40 baht.” Ok! So, off I went, into the street in search of a taxi. But of course that wasn’t the whole truth. Because, as I quickly learned, no one wants to just take one person anywhere in Thailand, let alone 8km up a mountain. If you are just one person, the cost of getting anywhere goes up exponentially. So, after taking a taxi truck to one bus stop and waiting inside another taxi truck for it to gather enough people to make it worth the driver’s while to take me up the mountain, I decided enough was enough. I waited an hour and was still the *only* person sitting in that truck. I hopped into the first truck that would agree to take me up to the temple for the least painful sum. In the end, I settled for 350 baht (about $12). The driver was great. Halfway up the mountain, after stopping to pick up a few other people, he stopped at this lookout point and dragged me from the truck to be sure that I got to see Chiang Mai from one of the highest points in the city. He waited patiently while I snapped some shots of the view and off we went. When we finally arrived at the temple drop-off, we had some more negotiations about getting me further up the mountain – there’s a summer palace and a pseudo hill tribe village further up. It was a no go. For another $20, I could get him to wait for me and then take me down the mountain, but that was absurd. I wanted to go UP not DOWN. So I set off on my own, knowing that I would probably find myself doing a lot of walking that day to get where I wanted to be.

I made my way into the temple, up many, many stairs. 306 to be precise. At the base of the stairs was a series of tourist shops and food stalls along with a group of women and children all dressed in traditional Hmong clothing. As tourists approached them, the kids would smile and say, in a sweet singsong voice, “Do you want picture? Give me money!” They gathered at the base of the hundreds of steps, some of them scampering off into the jungle with younger brothers and sisters in tow, others playing games and smiling placidly at the passers-by. I watched as a family of very large Germans gathered around these small children and plopped themselves down on the stairs, ready to have the moment documented. Such a surreal image—these pink faced foreigners surrounded by the bronze smiles of children adorned in bold colors and lots of silver.

As I walked up the 306 stairs flanked on either side by dragons, the smell of jasmine pierced the air. The sky was full of high clouds, some dark. It was certain to rain at some point that day, though I hoped not while I was on this particular adventure. I entered the temple and made my way around the back side, towards the International Center for Buddhism that calls Doi Suthep its home. Plants and trees and flowers and shrines blanketed every inch of the space. I wandered past the center and found a pathway to a large open plaza with a view of the valley below that was far superior to my lookout point experience on the way up. But the plaza had something else equally as exciting—a row of about 20 bells hanging along a long horizontal rod. Unlike my experiences as Korean Buddhist temples where ringing the bell wasn’t quite the most acceptable thing to do as a visitor, these bells were there for ringing. And so I did. I rang *all* the bells. Every one of them. I noticed something as I walked around the temple—many people were without shoes. Now, having traveled for as long as I had in Asia, I was very conscientious about such things. Shoes were always left at the door – of homes, temples, restaurants, school, everywhere, really. But somehow, I had missed something. As I rounded the other side of the plaza and came back around to what I now recognized as the main entrance, I wasn’t really clear on how I had missed it. There, all along the front side of the entrance to the main part of the temple were scores of pairs of shoes. There were even shoe racks on either side of the entrance. Totally missed by me. Alas. It happens.

I took off my shoes and ascended the stairs. What I was met with was more than I ever could have imagined. Imagine: a square area with a covered walkway on all sides under which sat various shrines and images of the Buddha. On two opposite sides of this square were rooms in which monks were bestowing blessings on visitors. Another side was devoted to offerings—candles, incense and lotus flowers—and a jade Buddha image. In the center of all of this, a grand golden stupa around which people were walking, offerings in hand. I stopped a tour guide to ask how many times people walk around it. Three she told me. I took my offerings in hand and walked behind a mother and her very reluctant child around that golden stupa three times, watching the mom drag her kid around that thing for the last round. I laid my offerings alongside so many others in front of the jade Buddha and received my blessing not from a monk as they are forbidden contact with women, but from another person whose position at the temple was unclear but no less valuable.

The spirit of the place was energetic. There was serenity but there was also the fervor and excitement to be in such a place, a site of such grandeur and sanctity. I spent more time walking around, trying to take as much in as I could. There was just so much. When I felt satisfied, I walked back down the 306 steps and began my journey to my next destination –the Royal Winter Palace Phu Ping. I was told by the taxi drivers to take the road, my safest option for walking there. The first road sign told me I had 4 km to walk. No far, I thought. Not so bad. The road was quiet. Jungle on either side, the sounds of the creatures who call it home amplified by the stillness in the air. Few cars passed me at all. I had essentially found myself fully in solitude for the first time in so very long. The two hour walk gave me much time to center myself at the beginning of this journey, at the end of my adventures in

Korea

, at the close of a year of so much change and growth.

When I finally arrived at the end of the road I had been traveling and the beginning of a small road to the palace, I was in awe of my surroundings. There were flowers everywhere, flooding the hillsides. I saw these gorgeous dripping flowers that I used to have in my backyard in the Sunset in San Francisco.I have no idea what they’re called, but they hang like bells from low trees and smell so sweet. But here, in Thailand, they were enormous. And they were pink and yellow and white and everywhere. I found the palace and realized I only had a short time to cruise the grounds before closing time.

Again, the most impressive aspect of the palace itself was the incredible gardens of flowers occupying every inch of the place. That and the totally Disney-esque experience of being guided from one building to the next by informative badly translated signs and Musak that wafted from speakers hidden under bushes and inside trees. It was so very bizarre. The palace consisted of a variety of formal buildings and walking areas as well as living quarters and all sorts of little cottages everywhere for the extended royal family. It all looked like a little Hummel scene come to life. Or like I had stumbled upon the world where Peter Rabbit and Mr. Toad live and at any moment they might just pop out for tea in the garden. But the pièce de résistance, the pinnacle of this whole experience was the Queen’s fountain, "The Fountain of Celestial Water of People." Built for her 72^nd birthday, this “fountain” was a large rectangular pool as big as a soccer pitch with severaoordinated water features – coordinated with the awesome cheesy Thai/Bollywood music. It’s difficult to fully appreciate the musical score without having heard it, but it felt a little like disco meets Fantasia meets

Thailand

. It was so over the top. As I inspected it more closely, I noticed that the whole thing was made out of poured concrete with sloping walls that closely resembled the “rivers” in Tucson when I was growing up. You know, the ones like in Grease when they drag race on the sides of the walls? I imagined emptying the fountain and holding a Roller Derby there. (I’m sure this image and the very idea of desecrating anything connected to the Royal Family is intensely offensive to some. For that I apologize. But really. So over the top.) The walking tour of the palace ended with me sneaking a walk up to Her Majesty’s temple and then sliding down a muddy hill on my hands and knees to the road below where I found the Giant Bamboo. So very giant. Towering in clumps overhead into the sky. Overall, the palace was a decent experience. Not totally fabulous, but interesting and slightly bizarre. I walked out of the palace in search of a bathroom and found myself walking downhill through a series of vendors. I almost gave up looking when a woman who was walking uphill past me urged me to go all the way down and check out the view. “You won’t be disappointed,” she said. And indeed I wasn’t. The hill dropped off at a series of tiered ledges. No one was around. Just me and the jungle. There were picnic tables and paths in every direction. I jumped on one and followed it down to a hidden shrine buried behind a grove of pine trees. I spent a lot of time inspecting all the details of these tree spirit houses and even discovered a very beautiful, very strange flower growing right out of the ground beneath the thick carpet of pine needles. As I walked back up the hill, the sky grew darker, and I had no doubt it was going to pour rain. Though there were dozens of taxi drivers waiting outside the palace, again, no one would take me back down the mountain for less that $15. Just one person. Totally out of luck. Ok, I’ll walk then. Maybe I can get someone to pick me up along the way. Since the sky was threatening to dump, I decided a brisk downhill run was in order. I ran for quite a while, slowing down as the road opened up to an outcropping. At just the moment that the rain started to fall, a songtaew honked and stopped for me. Headed down to the temple, he said he could take me for about $3 at least to the midway point. I’d have more options once I got there. So, I climbed into the truck and was startled to see a pretty large group of people in the back. Within minutes we were all chatting and becoming fast friends. The group consisted of a family of three from Bangkok and two Japanese girls and me. After telling them of my (mis)adventures with taxis, they encouraged me to just stay with them and go back to the temple and then back to the city. Why not? There was certainly more of that temple to take in. So off we went, back up the 306 steps and into the heart of the temple, shoes on the racks first, of course. We were probably up near the stupa for only about 15 minutes before it just started to pour. The rain made the marble surfaces so slippery. And my new Japanese friends and I did nothing but slip and laugh and take pictures. I suddenly had friends! My first friends in

Thailand

. One of the girls had been studying Korean and was planning to move to Seoul to study more after they returned from their trip. So, we chatted in broken Korean (for me) and had a blast. We spent the next hour walking around in the rain, ringing bells and talking about our various adventures. We took in the view across the valley below, covered in a sea of mist. I felt as though I was floating. We had lost the family in the crowd at the temple, so we decided it was about time to get ourselves down to the taxi to go home. We hadn’t yet cleared the last step off the stairs when the rain started coming down in sheets. Within minutes there was a swift river running down the stairs and into the street below. We huddled under the roof of a small restaurant and then under the archway of the temple entrance until one of the girls spotted our truck. Off we fled into the downpour and into the dryness of the truck. I watched so many people jumping on scooters, babies and shopping bags in tow, riding off into the rain on the mountain. Wild. The family eventually made it back, too, and we made the winding descent into the city. Not long after we started, the rain subsided, and by the time we made it to the city streets, it was nothing but a memory. Not a drop had fallen in Chiang Mai. We said goodbye to the family and then agreed to have dinner—the three of us girls—after a shower and a change of clothes.

I met up with them and we walked towards the Night Bazaar, finding a fun little restaurant along the way. I loved it—these girls were so much fun. It was so interesting to talk to them about their traveling and their plans for the future. What their parents expected, what they wanted, where they were headed. They were as fascinated by food as I am—taking pictures of everything they ate, giggling at the oddities on the table. And then there was the shopping. They were all about the jewelry. And the bargaining. As my first trip out with spending cash, I was reserved, wanting to just scope it all out before I started giving in to the rip offs of the market. We made it through a large portion of the market and then I suggested a cup of coffee. I had read about a small coffee shop close to where we had found ourselves. We crossed the street and found the shop. Walking in, I was first hit with the blinding cold of the air conditioning, keeping the shop totally inhospitable to our hot weather attire. And then, I noticed that everyone working in the shop was wearing a very pink polo shirt and was *very* eager to help us, the only customers in the place. I asked for a coffee to go. And what I got was a very small clear plastic cup with a lid with half a cup of coffee in it. I wondered what I would have gotten had I not asked for it to go since we ended up staying anyway. The girls and I enjoyed our drinks and the strange atmosphere, and then we parted ways on the street. They were tired and done with shopping. I was wired and ready to explore a little more.

On the corner opposite the coffee shop was the famous roti corner where a woman stands every night making the most delicious rotis with honey and butter in the most visually mesmerizing pattern of hand motions I’ve ever witnessed. With a carton of fresh orange juice, I parked myself on a set of stairs to enjoy the treat and watch the people go by. Not long after I sat down, a pretty large group of kids came running up, one of them holding some kid of frame in his hands. I realized almost immediately that they were Korean kids, so I started chatting with them. The kid had just bought one of the framed beetles I had seen in a stall down the way and was showing it off to his friends. They were somehow connected to a Korean girl who was studying at Chiang Mai University – maybe a sister or something. The Korean disappeared and I walked a little further down the market stalls to see what the rest of the street had to offer. I hadn’t gone far before I heard, “[clap clap] Everything 70 baht!” repeated over and over. I rounded a corner and a very large Indian woman came into view, hands clapping and shouting the bargain that were store was offering. Basically, “everything” meant anything you could find in several giant piles of cotton Thai/hippie clothing and “70 baht” was about $3. How could I resist? You have no idea how many amazing things I found in that $3 pile.

I took another route home, finding myself in the bar section of the market – this huge open air plaza full of little squares of bars with tvs and pool tables and girls at the ready. I couldn’t find a taxi (surprise, surprise) so I walked down the street headed back to my guest house. I found this art gallery still open so I ducked inside. Downstairs was an amazing collection of beautiful silk and sequined clothes. I got to chatting with one of the gallery owners, and he took me upstairs to show me the studio part of the building. His name was Ti (as in “tea”) and he’s a woodcutter. He pulled out a dozen of his woodcut prints. They were so beautiful. Most of them had these incredible images of people – sexually charged yet androgynous, figures superimposed on each other. So much detail. So much energy. I met another one of the artists who was very shy. Ti and I talked about art in

Thailand

and at home in San Francisco. It was a magical spot to stumble upon at the end of an eventful and spectacular Chiang Mai day. I felt elated in my rickshaw ride home and ready to dive into the next adventure – a trip to Pai the next day.

korea revisited

2009-03-01T15:57:00.007-08:00

In a few short days, a deeply missed partner in crime (and joy and silliness) will return to my world. And with her return, a new wave of exploration of the experience that was living in Korea will begin, and already has, really. As she prepares to wrap up a life created in that place and re-enter this city again to start the next chapter, I am reminded of my own wild emotional ride last May when I stepped off the Korean peninsula to resume life once again on this one.

“I did this!” she continued to exclaim over IM last night. “I DID THIS!” Yes, you did that. You moved to another part of the world and created a new and different and cherished life for yourself among people who now not only know you, they love you and will miss your presence deeply in their lives when you leave. And this is the thing that is, even now, astounding to me: How was it possible to create such a life there? Amidst so much confusion and challenge and pain and anguish, I discovered more capacity for emotion, connection and gratitude than I have ever experienced in my life.

I wrote about this a lot while I was away—how being in such a foreign place with so many new obstacles really strips you to the bone of all your defenses, all the typical ways you have learned to protect yourself and guard yourself, all your support systems. It’s a commonality among most people I’ve talked to who have lived outside their comfort zone for any period of time. It’s within these experiences that we discover our true capacity as human beings—and not just the feel-good, lovely, I-get-how-the-universe-is-connected stuff, but the ugly, scary, messy chaotic stuff as well. Yes, I saw my true capacity for opening myself to new experiences and people, but I also witnessed a capacity for anger, frustration and disappointment that surprised and, at times, was both terrified by and ashamed of. How could I be capable of such things?

Now, with so much distance and time between my present self and the tumult of the Catie who left Korea on May 6, 2008, I see it—the understanding of the vast complexity of who I am and the ways in which trauma, stress and fear can conspire to reveal some of the most critical pieces of the tapestry of my being. I’ve come to see what emerges from those experiences as the juiciest bits of information we get about ourselves. Yes, I was freaked out by some of the ways I reacted to situations and even ashamed of my behavior, but really, it was all part of me, and there was a deeper explanation beneath all of that emotion and reaction. Many deeper explanations. That’s where it gets interesting. That’s when stepping outside of my behavior and looking at what’s really behind all the commotion becomes the key to unlocking what it is that I’m so afraid of.

I’m so grateful that my BFFK (best friend in korea) is coming home. But I might even be more grateful for the opportunity that I get to revisit my life after Korea and what I’ve come away with after all this time—how I’m living my life differently; where I’ve found happiness; how I’m maintaining integrity in who I am and what I need in my life. So many things.

some odds and ends

2008-06-28T01:29:00.006-07:00

it's been ages since i had the chance to really write. thailand tales still await. in the meantime, there's this...

a new do!

fun party times!

a day on the boat!

oh, to be home

2008-06-16T23:35:00.003-07:00

saturday was an epic san francisco day. while spending the afternoon lolling about in the sun (and rather cold wind) on "homo hill" in dolores park, as it is affectionately known, i witnessed something that, i'm sure, only happens in this city. a guy was wandering around offering happy chocolates to the sunbathers. i watched him make his way around the hill. then, i noticed something sparkle, something glint in the sunlight. the tell-tale copper bowls of the happy truffle guy. a smile spread across my face as i watched him set his two beautiful sets of bowls on the ground. it was good to know that he's still around. i then saw the happy chocolate guy stop at the same spot as the happy truffle guy. from a distance, i watched the happy chocolate guy buy a bag of happy truffles from the happy truffle guy. fabulous kizmet. ah, to be home...(you get the idea...)

later that evening, while walking to meet my friend for a drink at cafe flor in the castro, i caught sight of two sisters of perpetual indulgence (www.thesisters.org/) kneeling on the ground, talking to a 7 year old girl and her mom. i just had to stop and watch this interaction. if you know the sisters, you can imagine the mixture of fear and complete fascination they might inspire in a small girl. well, this girl was doing this dance around her mom, peeking out every few minutes from behind her mom's legs. the sisters were just wonderful. they were telling the girl that they had been giving blessings to lots of kids all night and they wanted to give her a blessing. she wasn't too keen on it. but they kept talking. telling her about their magical little box of blessing glitter. then they offered her something even more special: an angle pin that she could name for herself. they offered it to her, but she declined. she agreed to let her mom take it for safe keeping. she named the angle Julia.

when the mom and daughter departed, i had to tell the sisters what an amazing little interaction that had been for me to witness. i just felt this incredible surge of pride and total joy at the idea that here are these incredible people who "promulgate universal joy, expiate stigmatic guilt and serve the community." they just rock. and i told them as much. we chatted for a minute, and then they opened up their magical box and blessed me with a mixture of glitter, sand from the temple of isis and holy water from notre dame. it was a gift from their sisters in Paris. and then they gave me a red boa feather from Paris. it was ridiculous and wonderful. we hugged and kissed and i was on my way.

later at cafe flor, after a glass of wine with my friend, i walked inside to get another drink and was caught with my mouth agape at the gaggle of trannies in the corner, perhaps celebrating a birthday. apparently, it was a latina trannie fundraiser event at the cafe. who knew? the ladies were fierce. my friend called them mean disco balls with asses. and only in the best possible way. they were well endowed, to say the least, in every direction. and their outfits were, well, almost not really outfits at all. just little scraps of nylon strung together with rhinestones and gold lame. fabulous.

if that wasn't a day to remind me why i live in and love this city, i don't know what is. and today, at city hall, Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, who have been together for over 50 years, were married in the one of the first same-sex weddings in California after the supreme court ruling. these sisters are in their 80's. it's good to be home...

my latest project

2008-06-09T23:38:00.008-07:00

some of you may know that i've been working on a project for burning man this year called the temple of community. you can check it out here: http://tribes.tribe.net/templeofcommunity or here: http://www.bloodvessel.org/news.html

Mark your calendars for July 26th!

we'll be having a fundraiser for the project, which will coincide nicely with my 32nd birthday!

part 1: drifting into jasmine dreams

2008-06-03T14:52:00.008-07:00

As many of you know, I landed back here stateside a little over a week ago. Finding my breathing room…finding some space to settle in…finding comfort in the familiar…it’s all a little strange. One gets so used to the discomfort of daily life as a foreigner in such foreign lands, relishes it, in fact. And now, as I find myself astounded that I remember how to get to Church and Market, know exactly where to find the hummus in Trader Joe’s, and am able to buy a damn good cup of coffee for less than $2, the comfort of home waxes and wanes in its enjoyment. I’m certainly happy to be home and I’ve had many adventures since I landed, but I can’t say my heart isn’t aching for a little bit of that Korean thrill of living. I haven’t had one single near-death cab experience in over a week. What kind of fun is that??!!

But there will be time to hash out the ins and outs of decompression and culture shock and all things related. Now is the time for some true travel tales of Thailand. It may take a handful of posts to get this whole trip sorted out for you, so stay tuned. This is only the beginning.

Bangkok to Chiang Mai
I landed in Bangkok on May 6^th. A whirlwind of a trip in Seoul followed by a soft landing and a lunch that proved to be one f the most memorable on my trip—so much so that I ended up returning for the same treats on my final day in that airport. At the Tate Café, I ate the most delicious fried green papaya salad. I had no idea you could do such a thing. It was greasy and spicy and totally not Korean food. (Don’t get me wrong here; I pine for Korean food daily. But the pure excitement of the taste of fresh basil, well, it can send a girl into orbit after a year’s absence.) I hopped my flight to Chiang Mai after finagling some luggage storage. Six hours after leaving Korea, I found myself in an air-conditioned taxi, zipping down the wrong side of the road (who KNEW?) next to the moat that borders the old city of Chiang Mai. My taxi driver was ever so gracious, getting a bit lost, stopping for directions, and finally, depositing me at the CM Blue House where I set up a home base for the next 8 days.

I walked into the loveliest of courtyard gardens, replete with waterfall fountain and twisting, winding jungle vines in every direction. The guest house was three levels. I met the lady of the house, and she took me up to my spacious second-floor room. And so there I was. Out of Korea. In Thailand. Alone for the first time in longer than I could remember in this room in a city I knew nothing about. Simultaneously, I felt intensely, almost painfully alone and completely, liberatingly free and thrilled about the next few weeks.

Before I jump in to the thrilling adventure part, I will say this: the thread of this loneliness ran in, out and around my experiences on this trip. At times, it wound itself so tightly, I felt I might not find the next breath. The letting go of everything—my students, my friends in Korea, Jim, everything about my life as I had known it for 19 months—the pain of the loss and the change came in waves of such intensity, I would quite literally find myself breathless, often crying in some random public place. I certainly had my fair share of anxious and desperate moments. And I have deep gratitude for those of you who were right there when I needed you. I know now—and I knew at the time—that this was all part of the journey, part of letting go and finding a new space for myself. Everything I felt and did and wrote was exactly what I needed to. And what I am infinitely proud of myself for is this: at each moment, when the pain set in and the tears came and I felt so very alone, I recognized the experience as a choice. I could choose to let the sadness of the loss take over, or I could choose to allow myself to feel what I was feeling, and then go out and find something to remind me that I was in THAILAND. No matter how sad I was, I never let it take over my trip. I reached out for help when I needed it, and I moved on. And then I did it all over again. But, always, I moved on.

Chiang Mai
And so, that first night in Chiang Mai, as sad as I felt, I kept myself out for as long as I could manage, walking and eating and drinking. Finding the streets I knew I didn’t need to hang out on—the ones with all the girly bars with the ladies hanging around waiting for their night to begin, and then finding the places that were definitely chill and fun. I ate the most delicious vegetarian curry and drank my first non-Korean beer at a place called the THC Rooftop Bar, where everything is made out of hemp and you sit under the cover of a bamboo roof on small little cushions at rattan tables while a mellow DJ plays a lot of dub and faux marijuana plants twinkle with Christmas lights and glowing lanterns of purple and red and orange sway in the warm breeze. There were signs everywhere saying that patrons should not use or bring drugs to the THC Rooftop Bar. Hmmm. I dunno. Seemed kinda ironic to me.

After the Rooftop Bar, I did some wandering, and found some seriously fancy and gorgeous hotels around town. Also walked by a man taking a “shower” standing up in the middle of the sidewalk wearing nothing but black briefs. He was pouring water from a bucket all over his body. Just getting clean in the middle of the road. I somehow missed the clump of small, groovy bars just one block up from my place, but I did manage to find another little bar where I could sit and write for a while. Tiny little place. All the ladies there were trannies—or “ladyboys” as they call themselves in Thailand. Super sweet people. Really chill atmosphere. A stage where a band plays regularly during the week. And as I sat there, this wild lizard went scurrying up the wall. Pale, almost translucent, the same color as the stucco wall behind me. Bad speakers played really bad 80’s soft rock remixes. I drank a beer and settled into my first night in Thailand. Walked back down to my guest house, passing by an empty lot where the cacophony of frogs and bugs and jungle critters became a familiar and soothing sound each night I returned to the place. I definitely came to love that little soi (side street in Thai) with it’s delicious cafes and stinky street market and funky little bar where rasta Thai guys played Nirvana’s “Unplugged” every night.

The night was a rough one. I stayed up too late and woke up a little bit dazed by the whole evening. But I had a big day planned—lots of walking and temple-seeing and massages and such. So off I went, stopping first at what came to be my favorite little breakfast joint, Da’s Bakery and Café. I ate the most delicious muesli, yogurt and fruit with think hilltribe mountain coffee every morning in Chiang Mai. And the juices. My god. Anywhere you wanted you could get the most incredible juices for about $1. I felt like I was splurging at Da’s spending a whole $4 on breakfast.

Off on my temple walk I went. I think I saw maybe 8 or 10 temples that first day. So many, they, of course, all blend together, unless I sit down with my photos. There was tiny Wat Lam Chang, the site of an ancient elephant watering hole, which was right behind my guest house. I casually strolled through this temple before realizing that there was a funeral going, on and the whole community was sitting down with the monks for the funeral lunch. They didn’t pay me much mind. And since I had adopted full tourist mode, I embraced the ridiculousness of wandering through someone’s funeral while on tour. The next temple was Wat Chiang Man, up the road a bit from the funeral temple. This one was far bigger. In fact, it claimed to be the oldest and biggest temple in Chiang Mai. Little did I know that nearly every temple I would go to would make the same contention. Chiang Man was pretty gorgeous—the first example of Lanna Thai architecture I had seen in person. The dragons, the gold, the vastly different temple style from what I had seen in Korea. Atop each of the temple spires along the spine of the roof, were small copper wind chimes. As the breeze blew, all you could hear throughout the grounds was the small sound of the metal bells. The sky was cloudy for most of the time I was in Chiang Mai—Cyclone Nargis has thrown some bad weather towards Thailand—so the temple walk day was sultry and breezy with such bold, blue skies set against these incredible low white and gray clouds. After Chiang Man came about four more temples whose names are escaping me now, but which were all beautiful and quirky in their own right. The ancient with the remodeled nearly everywhere.

I got some lunch at this corner place that apparently has some of the best food in the city—and the cheapest. I ate kao soy for the first time here. Super popular northern Thai dish. Like a spicy curry soup with noodles and chicken and crispy noodles on top. It’s served with limes, chiles and ginger. I fell in love instantly. Great street food. Flavors I hadn’t tasted in ages—coconut milk, curry, anise, cilantro. Definitely not in Korea anymore.

In my guide book—the infamous Lonely Planet—I read about something that I just couldn’t pass up after this long walk of temples—a spe run by former inmates at the Chiang Mai Women’s Correctional Facility. I mean, how could I pass something like this up? Seriously. I found the prison at the end of a road near the Three Kings Statue. Decorated with festive murals, the prison wasn’t nearly as foreboding as our own correctional facilities. It looked almost pleasant, like, “Hey! Here’s our prison! With flowers everywhere! Isn’t it nice? Don’t miss the shop across the street! And definitely don’t leave without a foot massage!” Hmm. The shop sold the requisite handmade doilies and toilet paper covers and aprons. A correctional officer pointed me in the direction of the spa which was back out on the main road. To the left of the shop appeared to be a visitors center. I was told that the women in this prison are short-timers. The prison’s goal is to ensure that each prisoner is trained in some kind of sustainable trade before she is released. So, massage therapy is one of the main trades the women learn. I think sewing is another.

I made it over to the spa and realized it was the same one I had been eyeing as I walked to the prison. Really beautiful and simple inside. SUPER cheap. For my first massage in Thailand, I got a 1 hour foot, leg, head, neck and shoulder massage for 150 baht (or $5). Totally decadent. The massage therapist was so sweet. She was a young woman, very beautiful, not petite in the way that so many Thai women are, a square face, a broad smile. It was perfect. And it started me on my obsession with Thai spas during my trip. I ended up spending most of my time (and money!) in spas wherever I went, though it wasn’t until Ko Samui that I really splurged.

That afternoon, I hopped into a rickshaw taxi to go check out the yoga class I had wanted to find. The studio was lovely, set back in a Thai garden. A great group of people. Super fun, playful class with this English teacher—amazing to sit in a class and hear my own language! Out for the evening, looking for food. I ended up settling for the guest house place that had a typical Thai menu—nearly 50 pages of the most random collection of Thai, American and European food. Seriously, this was the norm no matter where I went. Huge menus. I am perplexed as to how one place can possibly have so many ingredients let alone cooks who know how to make all 600 items on the menu. This place I ate was weird. Daret’s House. Recommended by lonely planet, of course. I had a perfectly decent meal, and as I was paying my bill, I looked up to read the guest house rules sign on the wall above me. Lots of typical rules—lock your valuables in the safe, we’re not responsible for stolen items, check out time is noon, etc. But then there were the special rules: “No sex work activity in the rooms (that means no prostitutes),” and “Don’t bring ladyboys back to the room (no homosexuals allowed).” “These rules are for your own safety,” it said. Truly bizarre.

I took a long walk to the bar that Jen and Michael raved about—Santiya’s Grotto. I was told to expect a hilarious Thai woman who belonged at Burning Man and a bar completely covered in paper mache. I got the paper-covered walls, but not the Thai lady. The bar was totally empty save for the young guy running the bar and playing solitaire on the computer. Already in a lonely state of mind, the patron-less bar did me little good. I sat with my Lonely Planet—lonely indeed!—and planned my next day. I knew this crappy lonely feeling was good for me—that I would get over it soon—but man, was it crappy. The place was really fantastic, though. Very Gaudi-esque. Gorgeous portraits sat on easels against the walls, books and random things lined the shelves. There was a small stage with a drum set painted red with spray paint. Windows and mirrors framed by paper mache. A lion mask stared at me from one side of the room, a rams head from the other. Wilting orchids sat on my table. Honeycombs were stuck into the walls. A total cave—exactly as the name suggests. I drank a couple of beers, took in the scene, shot some pictures and after about an hour, was still the only one in the room. So, it was time to go home.

After my first two days in Chiang Mai, I found that the daytime was awesome—so much to do and see and occupy my brain. Night was much harder. Going out to eat and finding places to hang out on my own just led to a load of loneliness. Like I said, it came in waves. And I don't regret a second of it. The adventures just kept coming... Look out for Part 2 soon!

the (really) last day

2008-05-05T07:39:00.009-07:00

this is me writing to you from the floor of my friend Annie's apartment in Seoul on my official last night in Korea. you can't imagine the range of emotions in this emotional girl at the moment. the past three days have been, as per usual, a whirlwind of insanity and beauty in this fabulous city of Seoul. i don't have much time for details at the moment--much more will be written in the coming weeks and months about all that has transpired this year, this month and this week, but for now, i'll give you the highlights of the Last Great Weekend in Korea:

Showing up in Insadong on the eve of the Lotus Lantern Festival and being quite surprised to find out it was being held this weekend not next weekend and not having a hotel reservation to speak of.
Being helped by a very lovely Korean man who walked us to the only place that had a room in the area -- a love motel, of course -- where we drank blue juice, ate ice cream and relaxed in their "romantic coffee" shop.
Returning to our original hotel and being "gifted" the last room in the house (though we still had to pay) and later realizing that it was probably not rentable at all due to the extreme wood eating mold in the bathroom and the broken chair.
Eating a delicious real Italian meal of steamed mussels, crab lasagna, salmon linguine and foccacia while relaxing on the patio of a very lovely restaurant in Insadong.
Finding out that the jacuzzi tub actually has to be full before you turn on the jets or everything gets really really wet.
Saying goodbye to Jim as I got into a cab to head to my friend Annie's house and he got onto a bus to go to the airport to go to the states.
Wandering the streets of Insadong and discovering the most gorgeous temple with the most incredible lanterns covering the space in a thick canopy.
Finding Korean b-boys rockin' it on stage at the street fair.
Buying an awesome glowy lotus lantern.
Witnessing the most insanely Korean parade ever -- thousands of people walking the streets of downtown Seoul with gorgeous lanterns and lantern floats of Buddha, elephants, pagodas and dragons -- as it changed course no fewer than three times in 45 minutes. We had a perfec (seriously perfect) spot which we had to run to and fro from as the parade changed course. Ridiculous.
Walking around Insadong in the rain with good friends and eating grilled Korean chicken one last time.
Waking up this morning and heading to Hongdae for a fabulous meal of artichoke and sun dried tomato sandwiches, finding a funny cafe that actually looks like a cathedral in Prague, and discovering a troupe of Korean swing dancers in the park.
Eating Indian food and spending my last night in Korea reading in an awesome underground cafe that we had been searching for all day.

enjoy the pics. there will be more soon. for now, anyeonghasaeyo from Korea. stay tuned for tales from thailand.

the last day

2008-05-02T03:50:00.008-07:00

Today was it. My last day. Been saying goodbye to so many people over the past week. But today, I find myself in a state of the following: amazement at having finished an entire year in Korea (we celebrated one year on May 1^st!); relief for finally being able to step away from my classes (despite how much I love my kids, this was an exhausting job); total excitement for the coming months (Thailand, SF, Tucson, burning man); and, yes, sadness for having to leave it all behind. But like I said in my last post, I’m so grateful to have had the chance to really connect with people and to feel so very loved by everyone here (I have been begged and pleaded with to stay on at our school by everyone from the bus drivers to the bosses, to the Korean teachers to some of the foreigners). On Saturday at our big going away party, a dear friend of mine, Young Jeong, who is a fabulous Korean artist, gave me a piece of her art that I feel in love with the first time I visited her studio. It was just before her big show, and so I inquired about the price. It was far out of my range, though. On Saturday night, she and her boyfriend show up and she pulls out this very well-protected package with her gallery flyer on the front and a small little picture of the art in the corner. Of course, I cried. In that moment, I knew everything I needed to know about my life in Korea – it will forever be part of my heart and the people I have known here, well, most of them will be part of my life for a long time to come.

On a side note, since I don’t have time to blog about the party, just wanted some folks to know (Katie & Jake, particularly) that I just happen to meet Zaid, the manager of Ron’s bars for 9 years (Tonic and Blur), who, when I said, ohmygod, not only do you live 4 blocks from me in SF, but you also worked for my two of my dear friend’s friend…his reply: your friend wouldn’t happen to be a prenatal yoga instructor, would she? Also named Katie? Ohmygod, yes. He completely 100% randomly happened to be invited to our party, and we connected that night. What a small, small, beautiful world we live in. just had to share. Here’s a pic of us! (take note that one week ago today, it was like 50 degrees F here, and now, it is seriously 88 degrees outside).

Also, also, we spent one last afternoon with Swan and her mom, where she, of course, took us to a wonderland of beauty. But again, since I don’t have time to blog about it, I had to share this awesome drawing that Swan did of Jim and I. She was hiding behind her mom’s camera, saying she was drawing something secret. We discovered from the image on the camera she was drawing a portrait of us. Well, what to our wondering eyes should appear but this completely amazing picture – me and jim as stick figure puppets. You wish you knew this kid. You really do.

xoxo

catie

Bummin’ around Gyeongju

2008-04-25T06:10:00.011-07:00

Last weekend, Jim and I took an awesome weekend trip to a gorgeous, fabulous ancient town in Korea called Gyeongju. I tell you, I have never seen anything quite as beautiful as spring in Korea. I am in LOVE with all the flowers and trees. The vibrant shades of purple and green and red and pink are some of the most vivid I’ve ever seen. The hillsides and streets are thick with blossoms. Everywhere we go, there are huge swaths of color sweeping across the road. It’s awesome.

So, we decided to make the 4 hour trek to this town north of Busan. It was the ancient Silla dynasty capital. The Silla dynasty was Buddhist, so much of their legacy is steeped in that culture. The town is flanked by two very large national parks, both of which are dotted with tomb sites of the ancient royal family, Buddhist temples and other Silla relics. The center of town is very small. There aren’t many multi-story buildings, and there are NO apartment complexes. This was so bizarre, and so refreshing! To be somewhere without groves of 20 story apartments in Korea. Wow. There’s a downtown area much like Gwangju, but at night, as we discovered, it’s pretty dead. Not a lot of people out and about it seemed. We landed on a rather drizzly, gray day. The sky had been threatening to open up at any minute, but as of our arrival, it was only sprinkling.

We were starving, so we found an udon place nearby and ordered up. Of course, I thought I’d be adventurous and order the ramen bibimbap, but not so much. It wasn’t the warm treat I was hoping for. It was cold. So, not nearly as delicious as Jim’s udon. But no matter. Behind me on the television was Korean TV, the ever fascinating, never logical experience of entertainment. On this particular day, it was some show called “X-boyfriend.” And as far as we could tell, there seemed to be a panel of contestants (all women) of some sort and a panel of judges. One of the judges was the Korean singer who Miho had tattooed and done a photo shoot with in her tattoo parlor. (I have no idea what her name is.) The show seemed to follow around the ex in question and detail his antics on camera, and then there was lots of crying and lots of talking, presumably advice-giving and such. Then at some point, we see the ex cyring in the boys bathroom. Really. And then a short time later, back on the show, the girl, complete with a red, tear-stained face, goes inside this box on stage. I was guessing that if her ex was in the small box, then he wants her back. If not, then we would see a display of emotion not seen since Gwyneth’s blubbering Oscar speech. Lucky for us, the ex was there. Very moving. So totally. The inside of the box was ridiculous – like a small little lounge, trippy wallpaper on the floor, ceiling and walls, little stools for the ex-couple to sit on. So, the guy starts tearing up again, and the girl just hides her face in her hands. And then we had to leave because we had almost forgotten that we were in the ancient Shilla dynasty capital and had a variety of ancient places to be. Riight. So, as I sat down to write this, I had to look on the interwebs to see what I could find out about it. And here it is…it’s subtitled in good English so it’s not as fun as if it were just in Korean, but enjoy it nonetheless…I think if you live in NYC you can catch it on this station – IATV.

http://www.iatv.tv/variety/11155/

Anyhoo, back to things that are ancient. We jumped on a bus to head to Bulguksa, some say the most famous temple in Korea. On the bus ride, we got a pretty good tour of the entire city, including the bizarre resort area that’s been built up around a lake in the northwest corner of the town. Dozens of major hotels, an amusement park, a soon-to-be-completed water park and any number of other manufactured experiences lined the shores of the lake. Though this was all pretty much an eye sore, the streets we drove on as we toured the area were lined up and down with cherry trees in full bloom. The day was a bit gray, but the blossoms were a gorgeous shade of pink and red and they stretched as far as I could see in any direction. At one point, we were stuck in traffic, and we were on a street with trees on either side and down the middle, all very tall and stretching over us, creating a little tunnel of pink blossom perfectness.

We finally made it to the temple. It was Saturday, so the place was buzzing with action. We landed in the parking lot below the temple and made our way into what looked like a park above us. When we got closer, I was, again, stopped by the realization that we were about to walk into a place that was covered in cherry blossoms. We walked up a stairway and entered into a swirling, whirling space filled with cherry blossom trees. Blossoms were floating on the air in the wind, drifting languidly like snowflakes to the ground below. Families, lovers, kids, old folks, everyone taking photos, stopping to shake a branch or two to send a flurry of blossoms into the air. I stood in the middle of the walkway with my arms up in the air, a giant smile on my face. As soon as I felt the melt of winter begin, I was determined to find a place just like this. A place where I could run through the blossoms falling at my feet. Springtime here is really unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I mean, Boston was beautiful, definitely. But this is surreal. The burst of color and life is astounding to me.

Jim managed to pull me out of the cherry blossom grove and up the path to the temple. The path was lined with all sorts of hawkers, and we bought two tiny little plastic Buddha statues. We entered the temple site, and wandered up the long, winding walkway towards the main structure. Gorgeous lampposts lined the walkway. The place was like a secret forest. The temple building itself is pretty grand. There are two large staircases leading up to the entrance, both of which are off limits for use. Visitors have to walk around to the back entrance. As I walked towards the back, a flash of green caught my eye. I saw rows of green lanterns hanging from a small building enclosed by a wall behind the temple. I got on my tiptoes to get some shots of them. Jim found me and we made our way into the central part of the temple where an ancient pagoda and a few other relics stand. There is a small space of worship in the middle of the space where we were constantly scolded for taking pictures. This in a sea of some of the most advanced, elaborate cameras. There were dozens of people with serious camera gear. This is the way in Korea – no camera is too big.

We made our way out of the temple and decided we wanted to try our luck at getting up to Seokguram Grotto, an ancient hermitage that is part of Bulguksa. We were in a bit of a time crunch. The hike up the mountain to the grotto really winded me, which was totally frustrating. My time in Korea hasn’t allowed for a lot of exercise, so I’m totally out of shape. We made it up to the grotto with about 30 minutes to explore before we had to hop on the last bus back to the bottom of the mountain. So, speed walking our way to the Buddha, we made it with about 15 minutes of exploring time. At the site, there is an artificial grotto built into the side of the mountain. Inside the grotto is a statue of Buddha surrounded by fifteen panels of bodhisattvas, arhats and ancient Indian gods. It’s encased in glass these days, and photos aren’t permitted, of course, so we snuck a couple in. We barreled back to the parking lot to hop on the bus. Ended up back downtown and started looking for a place to stay.

We stumbled into a great Buddhist store and then just started wandering around the neighborhood. We turned up a side street and suddenly, and as we were walking, I caught sight of something pink down a small alleyway. Of course, I had to search out what it was, so I dragged Jim with me down this little dark street. It was early, maybe 7:30 pm, so the street was pretty empty, but what we found was exactly what I thought it was. A street of glass windows with little cushioned stools where the ladies who were prepping themselves for the evening at dressing tables would soon sit waiting for customers. I’m still not exactly sure how this whole set up works, but it’s the same in every town – Gwangju, Seoul, Gyeongju. Streets lined with glass windows, all illuminated with soft pink light. Ladies getting ready for the evening. Chairs in the windows. One could certainly make a safe guess as to how this all works, but what I mean is that I’m not sure how this all works within the space of Korea. It’s something that fascinates me – the obvious, pervasive presence of a booming sex industry within a culture that basically pretends it doesn’t exist and simply never talks about it. I think I have to get back to the states to really explore this whole issue – to get a sense of what goes on and what people think of it, what the true situation is. I haven’t really found anyone who will talk about it here. At any rate, it still fascinates me, especially the early hours which is the only time we’ve ever encountered the places. The time when the ladies are primping and preening, when the ajummas are cleaning up the rooms, when the women are gathered in front of a TV intently watching some such thing, killing time before the customers show up. It was such an incongruous surprise to find it in Gyeongju after visiting ancient Buddhist temples…

We finally found a pretty decent place to stay for $30. Nothing remarkable about the place except for the very large, very empty fish tanks on the first floor landing. Rocks, stones and plants. No water, no fish.

Went out to find ourselves something to eat. I almost got hit by a scooter which we later discovered to be the “parking attendant.” Seems that everyone who parks on the streets downtown must pay a fee. So, a little ticket is left on your windshield, and as soon as you start your engine, this woman on a scooter comes speeding up to your window, ready to collect the fee. I’m not sure how this actually works. There didn’t seem to be any more than one person. But man, was she fast. We found a little grill place and ordered some random stuff from the menu. Thought we were ordering grilled chicken on a stick, and, in a certain way, we did. But turns out it was chicken feet. Spicy, grilled chicken feet. Yes, no thank you. Played gin all night and got up the next morning to explore a bit more before we headed back to Gwangju.

Jim needed sunglasses, so we went hunting. Thought we’d try our luck at the Gyeongju market. And wow. I’m so glad we did. Didn’t manage to find sunglasses there, but we did find a whole array of products and experiences that we simply don’t have in Gwangju. We turned the corner of the particular walkway we were on, and we stumbled into row after row of these incredible rice treats. In Korea, on special milestone occasions like grandparents birthdays, first birthdays, weddings, funerals, etc., special rice treats are brought as gifts. They’re called deok, I believe. And apparently, they dome in all sorts of shapes and colors. I had only seen the towers of candy-like treats – red, green, blue, pink. But what we encountered in Gyeongju was far more elaborate and interesting. Giant octopi surrounded by big prawns. Lots of whole fish. Tons of fruits and vegetables. Almost like what people do with marzipan. It was hard to tell whether the seafood was real or just rice-based and shellacked for that glossy finish. Every time we moved our heads, there was something else astounding to see. As we got to the end of the rice treat section, we found ourselves in street food heaven. Steaming pots, spicy smells, familiar sights. We meandered a bit and then turned left up another walkway. This one was a bit dark, but as we looked ahead to where we were going, another dumfounding sight stood before us. In the stall directly ahead, dozens of red-purple octopi hung from hooks, tentacles and all, fresh and ready for eatin’. (Gyeongju is only about 30 km from the coast, so the seafood is thick in the town.) As we got closer, I noticed that two of the three proprietors of the stand were napping, as most Koreans do in the market, especially when there’s slow business. They were dressed in red shirts, nearly matching the creatures that hung in front of them. Bowls of sea urchins and sea slugs sat on the wooden table below the hanging octopi. A woman and her family were purchasing a variety of things to our left. I watched a little girl with balloons stop and stare for a minute and then go back to playing with her dad while mom waited for lunch to be wrapped up.

As we turned to walk towards the street, we walked right into yet another jaw-dropping, whaaa? There was a butcher shop about two stands down from the octopi. And on the ground, in front of the meat case, was a red plastic bowl with two very large pig heads sitting inside in a pool of water. A green hose lay next to the bowl, indicating a fresh bathing may have just occurred. Right. Just some pig heads lying around. We took another turn instead of heading out. I just had to see what else I could find there. But, it was getting late, and we had a plan to get to another place or two before the end of the day. So, a very left turns later and we were back on the street.

Two pairs of sunglasses and some various Korean sundries later, we were on our way to Seochulji Pong. We took a taxi not really knowing how long the bus might be. We stopped at the pond and found ourselves in a funny little neighborhood. Everything ancient – most of the homes and buildings in Gyeongju are traditional architecture. There seemed to be about a half-dozen temples surrounding the pond. We met a nice Korean man who tried to explain the story of the pond to us as well as the story behind the broken stone face we kept seeing all over the place. Then, we discovered this totally beautiful, very small, temple down the road. I think this was my favorite part of the trip, aside from frolicking in various field of spring blossoms. The temple had a garden in which there was a gong, a bell, a pagoda, a small fountain and a Buddha. There were camellias and these gorgeous deep purple blossoms that may be related to magnolias, I’m not sure. The camellias were pink and white and red. I was in heaven. It was just so serene and so beautiful to be in the space. We walked towards the back, to the Buddha, and found the little fountain. Some movement caught my eye, and I realized that there were tiny little green frogs with bright orange bellies swimming in the water. We found about three of them. They were too cool. I loved these little frogs. We watched them for a while and got back to the Buddha. The temple abutted a pine forest, so the Buddha stood against a background of a clear blue sky and a forest of dense pines. In the time that we had been there, some people had gathered inside the temple with one of the monks to pray. The chanting began and the voices drifted over the space. We quietly walked towards the temple and stood outside for a few minutes allowing the reverberations of that sound to wash over us. I felt so privileged, so blessed to experience something like this.

On the other side of the pond was a palace of sorts. Before we walked in, we read the description of the place – a palace built by former President Park to commemorate the three individuals who helped to unify Korea. Seeing as he was a ruthless dictator, we weren’t expecting too much with the palace. And, in fact, there wasn’t much to see. It was totally antiseptic and contrived. The grounds were pretty, but boring. The entire building was painted tan. TAN! What? In a culture of such color and vibrancy, you build a TAN palace. Ew. Boring. The best thing I got out of it was a rubbing of a tile on the ground. They had the most beautiful lotus flowers on them. I couldn’t resist another inspiration for a new tattoo!

We quickly moved on, caught a bus back to town and ended up in a field of yellow flowers. Had to take some shots with yet another set of cartoon guardians of the field. And of course, a series of fabulous shots of me in the field wearing my ridiculous new sunglasses and holding one of the three parasols I bought that day for $2. We wandered around this incredible field and found the first observatory in Asia. We climbed a hill thinking we’d find a pond, but instead found an ancient freezer! A place they used to keep ice underground. Jim was ecstatic about it. I was not really too impressed. I wanted to find the damn pond I had set out to see! We finally realized that the pond was actually on the other side of the street as we made our way back to the other side of the park. Our bus to Gwangju was leaving in about 45 minutes, so again, we decided to speed walk the place and jump in a cab to the bus station.

The pond was very simple, but very beautiful. The site was excavated many years ago. A Shilla palace was discovered, but most of the building remains were covered up again with earth. Not really sure why. There are now two pavilion buildings on the edge of the pond, one with a scaled wooden replica of the palace that once stood on the grounds. We were crunched for time, so I ran in to use the bathroom. When I returned, about 3 minutes later, Jim called me over to see what he had just shot on his camera. Apparently, while I was in the bathroom, three men dressed as Shilla warriors had ridden in through the front gates on horseback and rode across the site and out the other side. Right! 3 minutes and I miss this.

Into a cab we went. Made it to the bus station with 10 minutes to spare. But of course, the only bus of the day was sold out. So, we bought tickets for another bus to another town to make a connection to Gwangju. We had an hour to kill so we went in search of food behind the bus station. Always a good idea! It was a pretty run-down deserted neighborhood, but we managed to find a little joint open for food. Two cyclists were inside enjoying some soju and samgipsol, so we sat down and ordered some as well. I’m not the biggest fan of it (we call it Korean bacon), as it’s usually super fatty, but this was delicious and lean. While we were eating, the nice restaurant lady picked up her keys and put on her jacket, jumped on her scooter and sped away. Hmm. Ok. The cyclist guys seemed to know that it was all good, she’d be back soon, they said. So, we shrugged, finished our beers and delicious food and had to run to catch the bus. We left some cash on the table – there was lots of confusion over just how much we had to leave. Made it to our bus. An hour later, we were in Daegu. When we tried to buy tickets to Gwangju, we were told the next bus didn’t leave until 7:50 pm – almost 2 hours later. Argh. The next 3 buses were sold out. So, resigned to stay in Daegu for a bit, we wandered out to find something to do. Found a café across the street that was actually called Sleepless in Seattle…had some coffee and tea and played more games of gin. Finally made it on a bus to Gwangju. Stopped at a rest stop for a bathroom break. Now, on every bus I’ve ever traveled on in Korea, we get 15 minutes at the rest stop. But apparently, our bus driver was a little antsy, so instead of 15 minutes, we got about 6. But we didn’t know this. So, after I bought a drink and decided to head back to the bus while Jim got a snack, I opened the door to the parking lot to see our bus driver driving away without us. I started yelling for Jim and waving my hands frantically while running straight at the bus. He stopped, thankfully. It’s unclear whether he really would have left us or if he was just trying to get our attention, but he definitely asked the passengers if anyone else was missing before we headed off again. I don’t really know. But it would have seriously sucked to be stranded in that bus station with no money, no phone and no bag, as I had left everything on the bus. Jim was pissed, and when we finally got back to Gwangju, he went right up to the driver and demanded his name. I said in the little Korean I know, why 5 minutes? 15 minutes, always! “You didn’t understand!” he said. Probably true, but still, with foreigners on the bus, one cannot assume we understand, non? There was a series of hand gestures and cross remarks made, and we finally got out of the station and in a cab home. Finally. It was an incredible weekend, and I’m so very glad to have gotten the chance to get there. Jim and I had a great time together. Definitely my most favorite place in Korea, hands down. We only saw a small fraction of what there is to see there. Another time. Another time.

Last weekend – dinner and drinks with lots of Korea friends, and a trip to a butterfly festival with our favorite 7 year-old! Tomorrow night – our first of two going away parties! Stay tuned for that soon!

One week left…so very, very strange.

finding the gems

2008-04-21T06:56:00.003-07:00

this is something i just wrote for a friend of mine for the Get in Gwangju Newsletter. definitely starting the reflection process...less than two weeks left as of today.

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When I left San Francisco for Korea almost a year ago, I had the requisite party one has when moving half-way across the globe for a year. Friends from far and wide made it to one of my favorite cozy spots in the city to bid me well on this wild adventure. One of my dearest friends said to me, as we shared a tearful goodbye, “You know, so many people love and care about you here, and when you leave Korea, you’ll find that just as many people love and care about you there. They’ll be just as sad to see you go. My guess is that you’ll have a goodbye party just like this one when your year is done.” Hmm. “Maybe,” I thought. I was skeptical at best. I had no idea what I was getting myself into in moving to Gwangju, Korea. How could I possibly go somewhere so foreign for just one year and have the same strong connections as I have with people at home? Why I ever doubted such a thing, I’ll never know, for, in just one week, I will have much the same farewell party in the city of Gwangju as I did in my city by the bay. Imagine that.

Every minute of every day in Korea has been an adventure – exhausting, sometimes frustrating, but always an adventure. I am walking away with some of the most powerful gifts I have ever received, and I owe much of it to the phenomenon of the unexpected that so infuses our life as foreigners in Korea.

I’ve gathered several “year in Korea” gems along this path. First and foremost, this: live and breathe here with no expectations and find a way to laugh at every turn. Nothing will ever be as you assume it to be, and to be honest, it shouldn’t be. We are guests in a country and a culture that is gorgeous and profound, but often perplexing and downright frustrating in its incongruence and inconsistency. But we are still guests. When we expect things to be just as they are wherever we hail from, we invariably find ourselves at a loss. If we can let go of wanting things to be “same-same” as what it is we knew, we can embrace the hilarity and beauty of this place and truly relish the fact that we live in KOREA!

And that leads me to my next “year in Korea” gem: find the gift in every situation. Every event in our lives presents us with a choice. We can choose to be angry or resentful or have any number of negative reactions, or we can choose to see our current situation as a gift. I know this can be a trite and cliché sentiment, but I have never believed in something as strongly as I do having lived in Korea. Of course, it’s easier said than done when your boss is asking for another 10 hours a week from you and you’ve just gotten your 10^th head cold in 2 months. While the wacky ways of Korea are certainly funny, life here can be incredibly challenging and deeply depressing at times – at least it was for me. So, gem number three: give yourself space for the emotions you have and make taking care of yourself a priority. Whatever your experiences may inspire in you, let it be. But do your best to not allow yourself or your year (or two, or three) here be defined by those emotions. Everything changes by the second here, so be willing to let go of the attachment to whatever has just happened. Let it float away like those cherry blossoms that have been falling for the past few weeks.

Korea has been a wild trip. When I go to that goodbye party next weekend and have my final day of classes, I will be sad to say goodbye to all the amazing people I have met and the beautiful country I have come to love. But all that I have accomplished, learned, and seen and the fabulous friendships I’ve created here will always remain with me. I leave Korea knowing something pretty important – if you open yourself up to the good stuff in life, it just keeps coming.

afloat in a field of tea

2008-04-18T08:36:00.005-07:00

The blossoms were bursting and I just had to make it out to the fabled green tea fields before I leave Korea. It’s been a destination for me for quite some time, but that whole winter thing really got in the way. So, now that spring is here and the flowers were quickly falling, Priya and I traveled on Sunday afternoon out to the fields to soak up some of the new sunshine. Of course, completely Korea style, we’re driving down the highway in the bus and I spot some sort of small green fairy-like creatures standing beside a white unicorn pulling a Cinderalla-style carriage set up in a parking lot off the side of the road. Whaaaa? Right. Just as I’m pointing it out to Priya who’s just spent the past few hours being rather car sick, we make a right turn into that very same parking lot. What luck! Green tea fairies, I shout. And we dash towards them post haste. Photo shoot fun! Why are they here? Why are they in the corner of the parking lot? Whaa? Ah, Korea! I do love thee and thou insane cuteness.

We wandered up the wooded path to the fields. What a gorgeous place. Undulating rows of green tea, in step with the rolling hillsides surrounding the fields. Magnolias, cherry blossoms and a variety of other trees in full bloom dotted the hillsides. We took the requisite, “look at me! I’m hiding the tea field! Look!” until the green tea police bellowed in Korean through a blow horn to get the hell out of there, we assume. The Koreans around us giggled and we all scampered out. We hiked up to the top of the hill to look down at the sloping fields. Truly fabulous. We met some really great Canadians who are living in Wando, a seaside town to the south of Gwangju and invited them to lunch with us. I ate a delicious green tea noodle jajang myeun (noodles with black bean sauce). That’s when I got the word about badkitty in the hospital. thankfully, jim was in town to take care of her. He did an amazing job being there for her. Our boss did, as well.

We all managed to get a cab to the bus station and we jumped on a bus to come home. Straight to the hospital I went to check on our dear friend. She was not feelin’ it at that point. Pretty bad pain. Really bad. We stayed with her until she feel asleep. We visited with her every day she was in the hospital. I can’t imagine being in that kind of pain and in some strange hospital for a week. I’m glad we were there to hang with her. She was certainly a true inspiration to me. Taking it all in such stride. An incredible sense of humor and a biting wit that cuts through all the bullshit and keeps her afloat here as her life continues to just throw completely bizarre curveballs straight at her face. I’m glad to know her. I’m thankful to have had her in my life since our Thanksgiving dinner. She’s an inspiration to me and a great partner in crime. I will miss her dearly. But thankfully, she’s an Oakland girl, so sometime soon, we’ll be back in the same place.

badkitty does the Korean hospital

2008-04-18T08:32:00.003-07:00

So, I had planned to write extensively about all the weirdness and fabulousness of badkitty’s outrageous hospital experience, but I truly cannot top the words of the diva herself. So, for the whole story – from the DIYGS (do it yo goddamn self) intricacies to the disappearing patient acts to the wacky kids with 21 jumpstreet hair – do check out her multipart series. It’s NOT to be missed. And, as a final note on it all, the entire experience ended up costing her nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada. Korea is a far better place to fall ill than the US. For sure. Appendectomy, CT scans galore, multiple courses of antibiotics and countless tests. Nothing. Not a thing. Crazy. Do read the whole series. It's unbelievable. And it's all true. I can attest to that.

the MOW report: Korean Hospital Experience

an afternoon of plasticized organs and gorgeous green houses

2008-04-18T08:15:00.005-07:00

Two weekends ago, jim and I spent the afternoon with a former student of his and her mother. We love these people. Swan is totally one of the smartest, spunkiest girls I’ve ever known. She is brilliant and funny and truly unique. She’s a collector of things. At her house, she has this whole set up on their back porch that resembles a botanist’s laboratory. Small trays and bottles and compartments of all sorts of different plants, rocks and choice finds. She has such pride for these collections, and anytime we’re outside together, she’s always rooting around on the ground for something interesting.

On this afternoon, we visited the “bodies” exhibit that happened to be in town for the month of April. You know this one—the strange plasticized bodies and body parts set up in action with musculature, nervous systems and circulatory systems persevered for study and gawking. I never caught it in the states. Wasn’t really my kind of fun, but how cold we resist exploring the Korean version with a 7 year-old girl? Well, it certainly was more than we bargained for. Overall, the whole place was really random in only the way that Korean experiences can be. It was kind of shoddy looking—bad carpet, cheap bamboo fence as decoration for the walls, bad cases for the specimens and general kind of minstrel show-style feeling. It very really voyeuristic to be there staring at these formerly living, breathing humans in such states of derma absence. Truly weird at times. The space wasn’t very big. Definitely not big enough to justify the 10,000 won entrance fee. And scattered throughout the space were these tiny islands of nature—stuffed game, fake trees and various flora and fauna. Truly incongruous with the rest of the exhibit, particularly the fetus section. Riiiiight. Ew. Not cute. We did have some fun talks with Swan over some of the circulatory specimens—lots of organs like kidneys and livers and such had their capillary and venous systems preserved, which was actually really cool. But then there was the partially bisected infant and the rows and rows of fetuses and newborns in plexi cases. Truly weird. Truly not ok. So we steered clear of those sights as much as we could and made our way towards what looked like the gift shop. Right. Not so much. A strange collection of balsa animal puzzles, rose oil products and a candle-making station for kids. Oh, and a Wii system set up with a tennis game just because. Because while you wait for your weird fruit or “under the sea” candle to cool, you need something to do that doesn’t involve viewing small plasticized babies, because of course the “gift shack” was located directly adjacent to the wee ones. Right. So weird. I really don’t know what this experience was about at all. Just strange. But Swan had a decent time and she got a bizarre “under the sea” candle that has this little LED light inside that blinks when a light goes on. You can do a cool trick with a lighter and make it blink, but we quickly learned that it just won’t go off when you go outside.

From the plasticized bodies, Swan’s mom took us to a place out of town with this incredible green house. The garden was incredible. They make their own pottery there—these great ceramic pots with arches and different compartments so the flowers and plants grow in all sorts of directions. The place was just a total paradise of vegetation. Little ponds, rows and rows of artfully planted flowers, so many colors, vines and flowers growing everywhere. So beautiful. So many new things to see. The succulents were my favorite – little beads of water clung to the inside of their concave petals. I loved this place. Complete heaven for me. Made me wish I had such a place in my life. Though my garden is definitely bursting—the purple radishes are popping out of the ground, the chard, kale and arugula are all growing like crazy and all the other veggies are getting bigger by the day. The flower I planted that looked like a stargazer lily ended up being this totally brilliant shade of crimson. Incredible and such a wonderful surprise. Looking forward to making an arugula and radish salad for our going away party in two weeks.

After the green house, we got dropped off downtown and stumbled on yet another gem in our little town. While wandering around looking for an open pharmacy, we walked right by an acupuncture supply store. In the window were two large mannequins displaying acupuncture points. I spotted a gorgeous bagua in the window that I had to find out about. We ended up spending about $80 collectively in there. The bagua was way too much, but I found the incense and the clay burners that my acupuncturist used on my belly. Jim fond a funny little electric shock pen-like thingy that seriously sends some jolts to your body. And if you happen to be touching the person who’s shocking themselves, you get a residual shock. Current just keeps flowing. It was a great store. The owner got a real kick out of us. We were just so excited to be there and so thrilled to play with all the fun toys!

We left the shop and headed to the tattoo parlor where badkitty was sitting for her last session with Miho. Made it just in time to get some good shots of the final product. Truly spectacular. Loved it.

Badkitty wasn’t feeling too well—she had some pain in her side and a bad cold—so we all called it a night and headed home. She bagged out on our girls’ trip to Boseong Green Tea Fields the next day, and by lunchtime when I checked in with Jim about my plans for the evening return trip, she had been admitted to the Sangmu Hospital. Certainly deserving of yet another post…

miho, the tattoo goddess

2008-04-18T08:09:00.003-07:00

So, it finally happened. Badkitty got her tattoo, the beautiful, incredible, very large piece of art took two session to finish. And when it was done, what a gorgeous sight it was to behold. And what an awesome experience to be able to watch it all and help her document it. She designed the thing herself, and cursed herself every step of the way when it was being inked—for all the details, for all the fill-in. she had told me a bit about the studio before I arrived. Miho is known for her work on many gangsters in Korea and Japan. She’s a slight woman with a kick ass demeanor. When we got to the studio, there was nothing on the walls. A brand new studio that they just moved in to the day before. The only pictures up were a series of professional shots Miho did with a famous Korean singer she had tattooed. Her husband is there all the time helping to run the studio and set up appointments. They were both awesome. Wonderful people. Very funny. I settled into the inking room with badkitty and quickly became mistress of documentation. It was totally a blast. I’ve never watched anyone be tattooed before. I had some idea that it would be bloody and gross, but of course that’s not what it is at all. Miho was very smooth and fast. It was amazing to watch the whole thing come together. She was on the table for about three hours when Miho called it quits, to be finished the following week. And so, we made our way back to our respective homes, her with a fabulous tattoo and me with total inspiration for more work on the one I have:) But not for a while, don’t worry mom:)

entertaining family

2008-04-18T07:38:00.008-07:00

They have been a whirlwind, I tell you. Sometimes when I sit down to write about all of this, I’m truly astounded that this is my life. I mean really. Could all these things happen in just one day?

We’ve been living it up in Korea for the final month of our rather outrageous adventure. Jim’s dad and brother visited us for about 10 days. And let me tell you, most of our experience with them was about food! It was really great to be able to share all the things we love to eat with new people! They spent some time up in Seoul and then headed to Gwangju before jumping a plane to Jeju. We took them out to our favorite elaborate meal—sashimi straight from the tank on the street. The whole place is ondol seating – that is, sittin’ on the floor. We were seated right next to the big picture window adjacent to one of the very large fish tanks outside. So we got to watch our future meal swim aimlessly around the tank and stare at us with very big eyes (very, very big eyes). Jim and I had discovered this place on Valentine’s Day after meandering the streets of Sangmu and deciding to brave the fish experience. There’s no way to know what yer gonna get when you walk into a place like this. We’re pretty good at understanding food and such, but this place is advanced. Our first time, we had so much food, including a GIANT fish that had just been sliced up, that our table was three layers deep in small dishes and delicious treats from the sea. Some were completely unidentifiable and truly strange. As soon as our food came, Jim said, “We’ve got to take my dad and brother here!”

And so we did. Three hours later, we were stuffed to the gills (ha!) with so much fish and deliciousness we could hardly walk. I ate something very odd that tasted just like squishy sea water. The food just kept coming. It was pricey—maybe 30,000 won a person—but far less than anything of its likeness in the states. And I’m quite sure there is nothing like this anywhere in the states. One of the best meals I have ever enjoyed. There are lots of pictures of the adventure of sashimi eating on my Flickr site.

His dad and brother shuffled off to Jeju for a few days and returned on Friday night to spend the weekend in Gwangju before they headed back to Seoul for their flight. So, Friday night, we took them out to a spicy meal of shabu shabu, definitely one of my favorite dishes in Korea – a Japanese soup that involves tons of vegetables and beef that you cook in the broth while the soup boils in front of you. After you’ve stuffed yourself, they bring you udon noodles to add to the soup. And then, when you’re sure you couldn’t possibly eat anything else, they take the soup pot to another table and use it to stir fry the most delicious rice ever. And then you leave. Rolling out the door. It’s awesome. I hear there’s a good place for it in Japantown, so get ready people!

We wandered around downtown for a while and then made our way home. Hit up our favorite little café – Chocolat Village (don’t know if I blogged here about the article I wrote that was published about this café…you can check it out here) then headed back home. Saturday was a busy day for me, so I met up with the guys later in the day. It had been drizzling all day, so instead of hitting the 5.18 Memorial Cemetary, we took them to the Folk Museum instead. Not before we stopped at Lotteria for a squid burger, of course. I mean, who can resist? So, rain and all, we wandered up to the folk museum with 30 minutes until closing time. Always a funny time to walk through life-size dioramas of traditional Korean life. In the drizzle, we walked through the park and museum complex and across the awesome archway bridge. Caught a cab downtown to yet another of my favorite places—the restaurant of only side dishes. I have no idea what the name of this place is, but when you sit down, the lady of the house brings you dozens and dozens of tiny white dishes of all manner of good eatin’. Grilled fish, raw crab in spicy sauce, a million different kinds of kimchi-style veggies, candied lotus root, chun (Korean egg pancake), omelet-style eggs, and so many other countless wonders. It’s awesome. And all for about $5. seriously.

After the food extravaganza, we wandered across downtown towards art street to show them the archways lit up at night. Always a lovely sight. As we wandered, we of course found a million funny things to buy. Jim is obsessed with socks. There are the damn cutest, strangest, funniest ankle socks ever in Korea. Some of you have received some from me. perhaps I should buy more. They really are awesome. I have an amazing collection at this point, but Jim can’t stop buying them! We also found little monkeys with slinky bodies and a little letter “e” on their shirts. What we found out later was this: when you take the monkey out of the plastic package and you pull down on the slinky body, the monkey flashes disco-style as the slinky hits its’ head. “e” monkeys. Indeed.

We made it to art street after braving the Saturday night downtown madness, including the ladies outside of all the cosmetic stores in bright outfits and funky leg warmers hawking the latest sale item. Art street was lovely as usual, but there was something new. We got to the small park at the main intersection only to find that a new art installation had appeared. Atop the bus stop loomed a half dozen large Korean cabbage heads stuck on rebar-like sticks. And in the trees were multi-colored Buddha statues hanging in all manner of positions. Pretty damn cool.

We put Jim’s dad and his brother in a cab to their hotel with the plan to meet them the next morning, and we headed over to the tattoo parlor to find our friend badkitty who had been planning to get a tattoo for weeks now. Of course, when we finally arrive at the shop, there was no sign of anyone. Of course. The previous week, when I went there with her, we arrived to find people packing and moving. The tattoo artist was in Seoul and they were “remodeling” they said. So it was only natural that they shop would be totally deserted on this particular night. We headed to a nearby bar to have a beer, and located badkitty. She had been escorted to the NEW tattoo parlor down the street by two very sweet Korean girls who were waiting for her at the old shop when she arrived. Her tattoo was rescheduled for the following day. So, we enjoyed some cocktails at this bar which was a bizarre sort of old west motif but smelled distressingly of lamp oil – I kept saying that it smelled exactly like the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland in Anaheim. Jim’s first drink was some sort of flaming experience that involved layered green and white liquor. I stuck to a Long Beach Iced Tea which proved to be a pretty close imitation of a Long Island Iced Tea, surprisingly. We drank our fill there and made our way across the street to Truffaut, our favorite haunt in Gwangju. This is the place with the DVDs and the fab atmosphere and the lovely jazz that wafts through the romantically lit little room of a bar. Over a bottle of Shiraz, courtesy of Jim, we chatted about life and devised a fabulous way to decide the upcoming election of the Mayor of Black Rock City. A simple vote will simply not do. And being intimately connected to both candidates, it was imperative that we use our collective brilliance to create a wild and wacky plan to definitively determine said election. And so, over 20 different contests have been set down. Looking forward to seeing these in action. Very satisfying to know that the whole scheme was dreamed up over red wine in Korea while listening to great jazz.

And on to the next day. Met the family at the hotel. Dragged them out of the city to the 5.18 Memorial Cemetery for a tour of the grounds. The cemetery was established in 1997 as a means of truly honoring those who were killed in the 5.18 Democratic Uprising in Gwangju. It was an incredibly powerful space, as one could imagine. A large memorial spire stands at the top of a large plaza encircled by pillars. To either side of the memorial spire are two copper statues—one of the protesters and another of the military. Behind all of this are the three levels of graves that stretch the length of the park. The first tier are people who died in the uprising. Some of them are identified by photos and some only by the national flower, the rose of Sharon. There are also people who are buried there who have died recently. It appears that if you were in any way connected with the uprising, you have the right to be buried in this cemetery. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon as we wandered around the grounds of this very powerful place. Young people—15, 16, 17. College students, elderly. So many faces. Not many women.

To the side of the cemetery was a room full of photographs. In a half circle on the wall was a tiered marble display of all the photographs of every person buried in the cemetery complete with their grave site numbers. On the other side of the cemetery was the museum – more photographs and paraphernalia along with video footage and tons of media coverage. It was pretty overwhelming to be there. Still astounding to me that we never learned anything of it. Never. I am so glad that we were able to get there before we left town. We waited forever to get back to the city. Finally got to Sangmu and had lunch at a kamjatang place—yet another of my favorite foods here (pork soup). Saw them off to the train station and back to Seoul. It was a great trip. Great to have them here and great to be able to share so much of our experience here with his family.

That night, I made my way down to the tattoo parlor where badkitty was scheduled to actually start her tattoo…more about that in the next post!

i'm a disco master

2008-04-04T21:12:00.003-07:00

i did it. i think i have actually (almost) mastered at least 2 routines in my insane aerobics class. i LOVE it. and the teacher loves me--the only foreigner in the room. yesterday, she told someone in korean that i'm very good...that i'm very "smooth." which is truly hilarious since i spend 90% of the class throwing my arms up in the air and trying desperately to remember how to coordinate a box step. i managed to snap some pics last night. i couldn't resist. there's simply no way to explain the experience. the fashion. the spontaneous disco lights in the middle of a routine. the ladies in the picture are clearly the stars of the class. they never wear the same outfit twice. never.

so, here's a small peek into my world of crazy korean dancing...

the star dancers

love, and a cough

2008-04-04T21:10:00.002-07:00

i think this says it all.

growin' stuff

2008-04-04T20:39:00.003-07:00

so, i was actually able to plant a full-fledge garden at the top of our building at school. I planted a bunch of stuff about three weeks ago, and everything is growing so fast! green onions, beets, carrots, radishes, peas, mint, basil... it's awesome. i took my kids up to the roof this week to sample some of the kale (yummy!) and arugula (mech, they said!). i made fun little row cards so kids can see what the veggies look like. many of the veggies aren't available in kroea. totally fun. sad that i won't see the garden come completely into being, but a handful of other teachers have promised to take good care of it. some pics below:

the garden

my signs!

my kids

some new fun sites!

2008-03-28T19:54:00.002-07:00

i've been cruising around looking at Seoul Fashion Week pics, and I found this great fashion site:

http://www.feetmanseoul.com/

and this one: http://metropolitician.blogs.com/scribblings_of_the_metrop/

great reading and awesome fashion pics.

no bitchassness

2008-03-25T04:00:00.001-07:00

you know, p. diddy don't want no bitchassness, and neither do I, frankly. so all you people, quite your whinin'. You know you want the t-shirt...

my hilarious kids

2008-03-25T03:54:00.000-07:00

who are so freakin' cute but also make me want to jump out the window on a regular basis. they had a joint bday party yesterday. three kids, 5 boxes of Chicken Man chicken, 4 lbs. of strawberries, two watermelons, a GIANT cake with cream puffs on top, juice boxes and other such snacks. an insane spread for people who cannot even stomach half a wee bowl of porridge. here are some choice pics from the extravaganza...

this is olivia. she is fierce. seriously.

sunday in the park

2008-03-23T06:49:00.000-07:00

so, badkitty and i spent an afternoon together today. we meandered through our local park and up to our local temple (oh, what an amazing thing to have a "local temple") whereupon we sat quietly inside the gorgeous space until we both couldn't hold our giggles any longer. we wandered out into the misty afternoon and climbed the very steep stairs to the bell tower next to the main worship building. being the badkitty that she is, she suggested right away we ring the bell. being the ninja kitty that i am, i wasn't so sure, but man am i glad she's such a badkitty:) we gently pulled back the wooden hammer and let is swing towards the steel bell. what a sound. so quiet. so personal. so ethereal in that mist. she moved towards the bell, laying her hands and face on the cold steel. i did the same. the reverberations were so gentle. so smooth. it was quite a moment.

we made our way back to my apartment across the neighborhood that divides our homes. we ate delicious strawberries and oranges, played with my favorite dragon, camped out on the floor and watched a ridiculous TV series that I've recently discovered called "Monkey" (www.monkeyheaven.com/). I can't even begin to describe the ridiculousness of this show, except to say that it is a late 1970's Japanese live action series based on an ancient Chinese tale dubbed into English by some very cheeky Brits. we decided that we must get it on the playa somehow. puttin' our thinkin' caps on for that one.

we capped off the lazy day with some fried egg samiches and family guy. i love this girl for many reasons, but now i have one more. she's finds this show as totally hilarious as I do. it was a fabulous day. super mellow and exactly what I needed.

peeps!

2008-03-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

apparently, it's easter. how would i know. i'm sure somewhere in your neck of the woods, the Sisters are holding their annual Hunky Jesus contest (see Noir on March 23rd). But if you just won't be able to make it out to strut your hunky self, here's some easter entertainment for you by PEEPS! i love peeps. i have fond memories of Peep Fight Club in our microwave in college, thanks to Anya (wherein you stick toothpicks in the peeps and set them up near each other in the microwave. push start and let the fun begin!) and of setting up a lovely peep display for an easter brunch after a (ahem) very late night at my house with one ms. lacey clarke.

anyhoo...enjoy! happy easter egg huntin'!

Peeps of Faith

evening shots

2008-03-21T18:58:00.000-07:00

just two shots of gwangju night. one of sangmu (our 'hood) and one of Angie on her birthday in front of a large pink hot rod!

spring has sprung!

2008-03-21T18:43:00.000-07:00

the flowers and trees (and my arugula) have come alive! this is a shot of the magnolias out my window. ah...warmth and sunshine again!

my korean techno pop dance party

2008-03-21T18:22:00.000-07:00

so, i just joined a gym. finally. after i think maybe 8 years. but badkitty said it was good, and they have a lovely yoga class, so i decided to try it out. the first night i went, i thoughti'd bop around the gym a while before my yoga class started at 9 PM (yes! argh, so late!). and while i was doin' some sit ups, i noticed that an aerobics class had started in the class room. and the ladies who were walking into the class were definitely DOLLED up in a serious way. for instance, one woman wore dance tights, a flouncy black lace skirt and a white backless shirt. these women were so flashdance, i couldn't stand it. so, i decided to stare through the window at them for a while. the instructor had on a black spaghetti strap lycra shirt and red vinyl pants. i'm not kidding. red vinyl pants. i so wish i was able to get some pictures, but perhaps later i'll manage it. the teacher's make-up was off the hook. bright blue eyeshadow, red, red lipstick (very poorly applied...). and the dance moves were hot and very complicated. and so, i decided that the next week I was at the gym, i would brave the experience for myself.

so, on Monday and Wednesday of this week, I put on the cutest outfit I could manage from my stock of yoga clothes (along with the very cute black and lime green polka-dot wristbands that Amy D. sent me) and walked into the room. I was very intimidated by the fashion. Crazy dance fashion in Korea. This time, seeing the instructor's make-up close-up and listening to her very deep, very raspy voice on her headset mic, i was convinced of what badkitty told me: the woman must be a tranny. i dunno, but it's possible. definitely possible.

the class was insane. it was like no aerobic I had ever been too. it was a full on, choreographed dance class. every song is a different routine, and nearly everyone in the room, including the 2 guys who come to class, is korean and knows every step of every song. because they go every day. i was completely lost, but did nothing but smile the entire time. it was the most fun i have ever had exercising. so insanely complicated and such satisfaction to get the hang of a step or two along the way. all korean techno pop--lots of songs that i hear every day here in gwangju. i especially loved the final song where the disco lights went on, and everyone spontaneously moved out into a giant dance circle and popped their bodies like crazy and then moved back into position. back and forth like this for about 5 minutes. hilarious. like being at the club. awesome.

i went back again a second time thinking it would be easier. ah, but think again, lovely people. very few of the songs were the same, maybe 2 or 3. the rest were entirely new with entirely different, complex routines. how do they do it? i have no idea. but i'll be damned if i don't walk out of korea with at least one hot dance routine under my belt.

after aerobics is my new favorite yoga class. the teacher is awesome. much better than my last one. the class is a bit harder--more advanced stretching--but still mellow. and we get to do lots of breathing (kapalabhati, alternate nostril breathing). It's awesome. such a yoga nerd!

so, with five weeks left (can you believe it?) I'm working hard to leave here in a good state of mind with some serious dance moves.

want to know what you're breathin'?

2008-03-18T06:45:00.000-07:00

here in Korea, we've got lots of air quality issues to deal with. the biggest concern these days is the yello dust from China which is sweeping the nation quite literally at the moment. The air in Gwangju has been super bad for the past few weeks. For those of us who like to spend any time at all outside being active now that the weather is warming up, we'd like to know what we're breathing right? Well, here's the site for you: AIRKOREA Real-time air quality information!

the country map takes a really long time to load, but the Hourly Trend section is helpful.

Happy breathing!

ladies' night at nabido

2008-03-09T03:38:00.000-07:00

we discovered a fab new little underground bar last night. totally wonderful decor. gorgeous paintings of women's faces adorn the walls. a small zen pool runs the length of the floor in the front. we actually had decent cocktails. and an awesome night out with the girls.

me 'n angie

some better news

2008-03-09T03:23:00.000-07:00

these are some of my new students. they are 6. and they are hilarious. seriously. they speak no English, but they are deft at escaping my classroom undetected. check out the cheeks on these kids. i've only got them for 7 weeks. good times!

Jess

Mike

Olivia

my new crew

some sad news

2008-03-09T03:16:00.000-07:00

Bill Kapoun died last night. I feel very heavy today.

tragedy in seoul

2008-03-07T19:48:00.000-08:00

last week, a young guy by the name of Bill Kapoun was badly injured in a fire in his apartment in Seoul. He suffered 3rd degree burns to 70% of his body. As a part-time employee, Bill didn't have any insurance here in Korea. His medical bills are astronomical. And there is also some discussion that his girlfriend may have died in the fire, though I can't confirm that information.

I just received this email on Couchsurfing. com, and I wanted to post it here for folks to read. Though many of you may be reading this from afar, if you feel inspired to help, you can donate at: www.billkapoun.com.

*******************************************************

As you may be aware, about two weeks ago an ESL teacher in South Korea was severely injured in a fire in Seoul.

William Kapoun, 26, had been teaching part-time at Bulam Elementary School in Northern Seoul. On February 24th, a fire broke out in his apartment, and he was severely injured with third-degree burns over 70 percent of his body. Compounding the seriousness of his situation, William was not covered by a health insurance policy. There are a variety of estimates regarding what the final tally will be for his treatment and recovery but none of them are below 100,000 USD.

His plight has made the front page of the Korea Times, and there is a campaign to raise money to help his family cover the costs of his medical care. We encourage you to give what you can and help Bill and his family through this very difficult time. You can read the article in the Korea Times online (www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/nation/2008/03/117_20066.html) and in the university paper from Bill’s Alma Matter, Indiana University (www.idsnews.com/news/story.aspx?id=49553&comview=1).

For updates on his status, we suggest visiting the Save Bill Kapoun! Facebook page (www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=8730028742#) and if you don’t have a Facebook account the updates are also in Blogspot (savebillkapoun.blogspot.com/). Please be aware that there are graphic pictures on both of these sites.

There is information on both of those pages regarding how to donate if you are currently in Korea but if you would like to donate online please visit this page - www.billkapoun.com/.

the ultimate in korean graduation

2008-02-28T01:50:00.000-08:00

here's the video. it's outrageous. truly, truly, truly outrageous. i love these kids. the fans. the swords. seriously serious out there on stage. enjoy!

you caught me smiling...again

2008-02-27T06:06:00.000-08:00

so, this past weekend was our graduation blowout extravaganza. 120 Korean kids. 10 English plays. 10 Korean dances. speeches, bubbly floaty backdrops, smoke machines, some tears, a giant rocket ship, a larger-than-life cheeseburger and a LOT of smiling. these kids were amazing. for those of you who haven't gotten the run-down before, here's the deal: every year in February (the end of the school year in Korea) students across the country gather to perform ridiculous songs and dances in totally outrageous costumes for their parents and teachers. ours were no different. munchkins running amok in all manner of hilarious vinyl, sequined costumes. little vegetables, slices of bread, chickens, Korean devils, warriors, Power Rangers, mermaids, etc. etc., etc. You really have to see this to believe it. It's hard to describe the insanity of the moment. More like 8 hours. We were there from 9 until 5. Lots of waiting around and trying to entertain. Many costume changes. Exhausted by the end.

But my kids rocked it. I cannot begin to describe the feeling of elation at watching my 11 students completely steal the show. They worked so hard for so long (and so did I), and they nailed every line and every dance. Our play was "The Adventure of the Cheeseburger in Paradise" where three explorers go in search of the mythical meat-lovers dream and find bumble bees, cats and cowboys along the way to help them. They sang and danced to such hot hits as "Cheeseburger in Paradise," Good Vibrations," "Mr. Mistoffelees," "Ghost Riders in the Sky," and the grand finale: "I'm So Excited" by the Pointer Sisters. Seriously, you've never lived until you've watched 11 6 yr. old adorable Korean kids shake it to the Pointer Sisters. Here is the motley crew in costume:

We had a number of camera snafus, so we didn't really get a complete set of shots from the day, but I did manage to get a full video of my kids' AWESOME Korean dance, smoke machine and all. It doesn't do it justice to talk about it, so check out the video.

This was an amazing experience. I'm glad it's over, but I feel so lucky to have gotten to bond with my kids like this before they go on to their new schools. Tomorrow is our last day as a class. We're having a party and I've made these gorgeous little photos books for them. It's really sad to have to say goodbye, but I'm glad they get to leave first. I may see some of them as afternoon students, but it's definitely not the same as the 5 hours a day we've gotten to spend together in the mornings.

Two more months left. It's certainly bittersweet. Two teachers will be leaving this weekend--dear friends of our who I will miss quite a bit. Four new teachers arrived last week. Things change all the time. Can't say I'm not looking forward to getting on a plane myself. But two more months. Incredible how time flies.

day five: beijing

2008-02-13T04:54:00.000-08:00

Day 5
January 3, 2008
(our last day)

The Summer Palace, the Lama temple, Houhai’s Drum Tower, a hutong tour and a secret stone boat

This was our last day of touring Beijing, and perhaps my favorite. The first stop for us was the Summer Palace, a place where the emperor and empress and their family and concubines and eunuchs and such would spend their time during the summer. It’s pretty much right inside the city but slightly further from the center where the Forbidden City is. This place was incredible. We entered into a wonderland, a playground for the ancient rich. As we walked past the first building, the space opened up onto a large lake, frozen over and rimmed by a winding walkway. Covering the stones in the open space leading up to the shore were long lines of Chinese characters. I scanned the area and noticed that these characters paved the entire space. Some were dark and well-formed, others were fading in the sunlight. Then I noticed about a half-dozen old Chinese men and women holding long poles at the end of which were sponge tips. A water bottle was attached to the side of the pole, slowly dripping its contents to the sponge which was used like the tip of a brush. The men and women were drawing with water. Others had gathered around to watch their art, slowly gliding over the stones, making brush strokes of ancient words and ideas, flowing in lines towards the frozen water of the lake. It was meditation. It was art. It was beautiful. We stood and admired the words fade into dry stone and then made our way towards the other side of the lake. On one side of the walkway, a series of small picture windows lined the wall, each their own shape and each decorated intricately with small paintings of flowers.

At the end of this walk, we entered the series of buildings that were the Cixi's sleeping quarters and the Hall of Longevity. After exiting this area, we discovered one of the most magnificent walkways I have ever encountered. Along the lake, a covered wooden walkway called the Long Corridor lines the shore. At over 700 m in length, every inch of the walkway is covered in traditional paintings – intricate, detailed paintings of ancient scenes with the Monkey King, monks, emperor’s weddings, gardens and other palaces. And we were forever trailed by a very large group of Russian tourists by whom I was, of course, forever intrigued. So, between the spectacle of the walkway and the spectacle of Russian wealth and hair do’s, I had more than enough to take pictures of for quite a while. About halfway down the walkway, a large gate opened up onto an open space. The gate, through which one entered from the lake, welcomed the emperor and empress into the palace when they would arrive for their stay. In front of the gate was the entrance to the Buddhist temple built onto the hillside of the garden. The Empress Dowager Cixi of the Qing Dynasty, for whom the palace was built, was a deep believer in Buddhism, despite the fact that she was a vicious despot of an empress. She did fun things like hold her sisters and various concubines in the palace inside large water tanks with only their head left above the surface for weeks at a time. She ruled over China from 1861 to 1908. She was forced out of her rule through the Boxer Rebellion. Cixi is a fascinating human being. Check out the Wikipedia site if you want to know more.

The water was gorgeous in the winter light. Boats were docked at various spots along the shore, and many people were lounging around on the walls and in the pavilions surrounding the lake. I came across a man who was playing the flute beautifully at one dock. Traditional Chinese music emanated from the instrument as I walked up. I was doing some audio recording at that point, so I managed to catch some of it. As soon as I passed by, he changed his tune to Auld Lang Syne. Ah, to be Western in China. Such a funny thing.

As we rounded the last stretch of the walkway, we came to the end of the lake where the Stone Boat sits in the water. This is a very large marble boat which sits at the water’s edge. It’s a two story boat with stained glass windows on both floors. There is a huge mirror on the second floor where the Empress Cixi would “sit and admire herself while eating cakes and drinking tea,” as my tour guide pointed out. The boat was wooden originally, I think, but for some reason, the emperor decided to make one out of stone. Hmm. Not sure.

At this, we wandered just a short way to the exit of this entrancing palace. To think of the way the space was when Cixi walked the hallway in her great silks and headdresses. This place was incredible. I could have spent all day there. I left with such a sense of wonder and enchantment, like every stone and painting, every hall and gate, was holding tightly to secrets you could hear whispered on the cold January wind.

And from here to the yet another amazing meal of Sichuan food in a more modern Chinese restaurant. The place had a much sleeker edge to it than the other restaurants we had been to but with hints and touches of vintage China peeking out from behind the crisp lines and angles of the interior space.

After lunch, we headed to the Lama Temple (Yonghegong Temple), formerly an imperial palace that now serves as a Tibetan Buddhist monastery. Again, breathtaking. I cannot believe I stood in such a sacred place. Altogether, there were maybe 7 different halls in one line preceded by a long walkway. Situated right in the middle of the city, the incense from the temple burns continuously and permeates every inch of the surrounding area. It wasn’t too busy while we were there, which was nice. We had a chance to wander aimlessly and listen to our guide explain all the different shrines and Buddha statues. Each temple left me in greater awe than the last. Running my hands along the prayer wheel. Looking up into the sky to see a tree barren save for 60 or so persimmons clinging to its branches. Watching the thick plumes of smoke reach up into the clouds above. Candles flickering, offerings being made at every moment. Such a sense of calm. As we got towards the very back of the temple site, we entered the Hall of the Wheel of the Law in which the monks come to study and meditate. Buddha sat in the middle, of course, surrounded by two or three rows of pillows with small reading lamps set on long tables for reading. To the far left were various statues of monks parts of the world, all seated in a row under a line of windows. In front of them was the first and only Buddhist sand painting that I have ever seen in real life. I have seen them created in films, but I have never laid my own eyes on one. It’s beyond description to see one in person. Beyond imagination the intricate details, the colors, the shapes and patterns. The impermanence of such a work of love – created as an offering meant to be present for only a short time. I moved around the painting which was contained within a Plexiglas cube and hit every angle I could. No photos allowed within the temples, so I have only what is left in my memory. I feel so fortunate to have even glimpsed something so ethereal and sacred.

I happened to walk back around to the front of this particular temple as Jim and Tina wandered out the back. I came across a Chinese woman who was giving a tour to 4 people from Spain. She was speaking Spanish, and since she was speaking slowly and deliberately, I could understand everything she was telling them. I immediately turned on my audio recorder and eavesdropped for as long as I could manage. She was explaining to her tour group the story of the Dalai Lama and why the current Dalai Lama does not live in Tibet or China but is in exile in Dharmasala, India, and is in search of the next chosen one. In this temple, to the right of the Buddha, there is a photo of the Panchen Lama, a man who was chosen by the People’s Republic of China, not by Tibetan Buddhist, but in the space where there should be a photo of the 14^th Dalai Lama, to the left of Buddha, there is nothing. He remains in exile, where he has been since 1959, seeking independence for Tibet from Chinese rule. In September 2007, the government ruled that all monks must be approved through their channels, a process which would include the selection of the 15^th Dalai Lama upon the death of the current Dalai Lama. Fascinating and crazy. I was thrilled to be listening to this in Spanish. It was too amazing to be standing in such a place and listening to a language I can only speak half a world away.

On the approach to the final temple, all I could see was something massive and gold standing in the space. I hadn’t bothered to really look at the height of this temple before I entered, but when I walked fully into the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Happinesses and looked up, I saw that the Buddha standing before me simply had no end. Its body reached so high in to the rafters of this temple, its face was barely visible. Fully gold, fully wooden, and fabled to be carved out of one solid tree, I had never seen anything with such solid weight in my life. It’s a 26m tall statue of the Maitreya Buddha carved from a single white sandalwood tree. It’s 18m above the ground, 8m below the ground and 8m in diameter. It’s immense and so spectacular. Humbling to stand in front of such a thing. It blew my mind.

We did some mild shopping on our way out. Jim found a woman who makes traditional Chinese paintings using her fingers and sides of her palms. Fascinating. And then, after quite a while of aimless strolling, were suddenly jacked up into speed mode by our tour guide. There was somewhere to be, after all, unbeknownst to us. We were rushed over to the Houhai area for our hutong tour. We piled out of the car after crisscrossing the neighborhood and winding our way through the maze of rickshaws. We stood waiting for our next tour guide, also named Tina, who would take us through the hutong. She showed up and we were packed into our rickshaw. She took off with her bike and went a different direction. So, we were a little unclear as to what we were supposed to be getting a tour of. We were on the rickshaw for a total of like 10 minutes and went about 4 blocks. Then, just as suddenly as she had left, there was Tina #2, pulling us along to our next destination. Over the Houhai foot bridge we went, and as I stopped to take a shot or two, Jim and Tina #2 were almost out of my line of sight. Moving quickly through the hutong, I had to run to catch up to them. Um, could we maybe slow down? Well, no, actually, we can’t. You see, there’s a drum ceremony we have to catch in 10 minutes at the top of the Drum Tower, so we’ve just got to keep moving. Oh, well, then. In that case. Because we were definitely informed of the Drum Tower ceremony we had to get to at 4:40 when we were basically in total leisure more 40 minutes earlier at some silly souvenir shop. Ok. Sure. So, off we went, towards the Drum Tower at a brisk walk, to say the least. We hoofed it up the very steep, very uneven stone steps leading to the top of the tower, and we made it just in time for the drumming of the drums.

The towers houses one of the oldest drums in China as well as the alleged largest drum in the world. Every day, the drummers come in and bang on these gorgeous traditional drums. I got some great audio of the experience. Such a powerful, deep reverberation in my body standing in that room. From the walkway around the outside of the tower we could see clearly down into the hutong below. Obvious scars of urban development visible from our height. I could see where one neighborhood had been flattened right up to the wall it shared with a bordering neighborhood. Inside the tower, across from the drums, there was this ancient time-telling device that used a series of water activated levers to record time. In Korean history, the invention is credited to one of this country’s emperors, but perhaps it was taken from China. Not really sure. The basic premise is that a constant stream of water flows into a series of cisterns, causing a level to be raised on a measured dial which records the time. At a certain time interval, the water causes a statue of a guard to bang a set of cymbals together to chime the time. The Chinese have created a replica of this device which sits in the Drum Tower. It’s pretty incredible and ingenious.

After the wild Drum Tower ride, we had some down time to wander through Yandai Xiejie again, one of the main drags in Houhai. Jim picked up a sweet mahjong set and I found some hot Mao t-shirts for the preschoolers in my life. It was back to the hotel for us where we proceeded to create an elaborate and extremely artistic display of all our fabulous finds in Beijing. This was fun. To see all the amazing things we managed to find in our travels in the city all in one place.

We made it out of the hotel for our last night on the town. Jumped in a cab to find the Stone Boat Café in Ritan Park. Hoping for a tiny, cozy spot to eat a bite of food and play some mahjong, we were so very pleasantly surprised when we found what we did. We made it to the neighborhood and quickly realized we were definitely in Russian territory. Russian signs, Russian department stores, Russian restaurants everywhere. The café is actually inside the park, so we had to get the guards to let us in since it was after 9:30 by the time we got there. As we wound our way up the path in the dark and deserted park, we found this wonderland of ponds and open courtyards. We noticed that the row of restaurants along the street that we had just passed on out way in shared a backyard with the park. Totally gorgeous in the winter moonlight. We were all alone in there. It was so peaceful. Pretty soon after passing the restaurants, we started to hear some music carry through the air. Further ahead, we could see the orange glow of another space. As we got closer, we realized, wow, they’re playing Dylan. This funny café in the dark inside a park in Beijing in the middle of the winter where no one else is is playing classic Bob Dylan. Too cool. We walk in and it is tiny. Like maybe four booths altogether. It’s just us, two people who work there and a guy who must be a regular. They’re sitting around talking quietly, reading the newspaper, when we walk in. They were incredibly kind to us and got a real kick out of the mahjong set, which, of course, we have NO idea how to play.

We ordered some soups and set up our very own special twisted version of a solitaire-style mahjong that Jim played by himself. Our hosts could not figure out what the hell we were playing. The soups arrived and were just about the most delicious meal we had on our whole trip. The whole place was just so simple and so elegant. The boat looked out on the small pond in the park. Its lights and heat lamp a welcome respite from the bitter Beijing cold. I felt so transported in that space. To another age, really. So far away from the buzzing of the city streets and movement of the life of a city undergoing so much change and upheaval and transformation. As Dylan washed over us, we ate our fill, played a very random, surely never-before-achieved 2-person game of mahjong solitaire and made our way out of the place so that the poor guy who was waiting on us could go home.

Needing to use the bathroom, we spotted a bar right next to the park entrance. I’ll just duck inside and use the bathroom. You get a drink. We’ll stay for a bit and go home. Well, after winding our way through a construction wall that served as a temporary entrance to the bar while renovations were underway, it didn’t take us more than a few minutes to realize where we were. We were in a hooker bar. In the middle of Russia town. In Beijing. Seriously. We walked right into a hooker bar. It’s called Maggie’s Bar. And from the swanky velvet couch in the corner and the trashy blue and orange glow of strip lights lining the walls and ceiling, to the standard set of overweight white guys and scantily clad, doting Chinese girls, it was pretty clear. We saw some funny sights that night. White guy dancing at its finest, people. These pretty girls fawning all over these rather nerdy and unattractive guys turned out to not be so pretty after all in the rather harsh light of the ladies’ room. I was a little shocked to turn to see one of the girls I had seen on the dance floor standing at the mirror. Not quite the flawless skin and perfect body that I thought I saw. The DJ set was incredible. Totally appropriate and priceless. Madonna’s “Who’s That Girl” into Steely Dan’s “Hey 19” and off without a hitch to “What a Feelin’.” That one got me up on the dance floor and me and this really sweet, well-dressed Chinese girl tore it up. It was just us. We were in heaven, singing the song at top volume to each other. And then this song by some Mongolian boy band came on, and all the girls stormed the floor (another girl told us who the band was that made the girls go wild). It was a strange and slightly creepy place, but we had a total blast. What a way to end our Beijing extravaganza.

And so concludes my tales of Beijing. We left the next morning for home. I landed back in Gwangju to a blanket of snow, the only one of the season. I made it out the day after our return to catch the snow in the park and enjoy an afternoon of tea and solitude.

It was an epic trip, to say the least. I’m so very fortunate to have had the opportunity to go there and to have this kind of trip. I would definitely go back in a second if I could. It’s a city of conundrums and paradoxes, like Korea, really. So much change in such hyperspeed. I’ll be interested to hear from folks what their experience in like for the games.

day four: beijing

2008-02-13T02:18:00.000-08:00

Day 4
January 2, 2008

The Great Wall, Ming Tombs, the Sacred Way and street food at night

We headed out to the wall on Wednesday – out to Badaling, one of the more popular spots to climb the Great Wall of China. On the way to the wall, we stopped at a cloisonné factory to see the process by which the Chinese have made this famous pottery for the past thousand years. It was a quick tour punctuated by an extreme shopping opportunity at the end, but it was really fascinating to see the creation process. The process goes like this: first, the base piece is created in copper. Then, women using very careful hands bend and shape strips of copper that will be applied to the base piece to create the actual design and pattern of the pottery. The strips are glued to the base piece in shapes of dragons and flowers and pandas and such. Once the base piece has been painstakingly designed, it is ready for glazing. (on to the next room) The glazing process is multi-stepped. After each layer of glaze is applied, the piece is fired in an uber-intense kiln like no other I have ever seen. This pattern of glaze and firing happens about 7 times, until the thickness of the glaze matches the height of the copper design on the base piece. (on to the next room) Once firing is complete, the piece is ready for sanding and buffing. And this was the craziest thing we saw – 5 people bent over 5 different sanding machines, using a steady stream of water and fine stones to smooth each piece of cloisonné. The piece is spun at rapid speed while the stones are used to grind it down. The sanders use only finder cots for protection. No masks. No gloves. Just little pieces of rubber on fingertips. It seemed odd to both of us that it wasn’t a good idea to wear even a small mask of sorts for the work. Who knows.

After the whirlwind tour of the process, we were ushered over to the factory showroom where we could spend thousands of dollars if we wanted to on cloisonné pieces for, um, well, perhaps the foyer of our mansion on Crete. Or the winter garden of our chateau in France. I have no idea what you’d do with all this cloisonné.

Off to the wall we went. Thankfully, the temperatures had warmed up a bit, and the chances of frostbite were pretty slim. Again, that feeling of, ohmigod, are we really here? are we really seeing this? Amazing. Couldn’t really grasp the idea that we were on the wall. We spent about two hours or so bouncing around the wall, jumping, climbing, running, being silly. Just enjoying being out on this incredible structure. We found great handmade art along the trek and met a nice couple who took our picture. We climbed up and down some of the steepest stairs ever. We had a good laugh at one of the graffitied names we found on one part of the wall (graffiti has been a big problem there for a while). The name read: “Pol Pott ’88.” Seriously. You think he might have been there in ’88? I dunno. Maybe. Ha!

After the wall, we headed off to our next lunch at the Auspicious Restaurant. A huge space with a very old structure and heavy, dark wood tables and chairs. We at delicious Sichuan food there. Yummy stir-fried pork and chicken. Jasmine tea. Watched a group of acrobats practice a pyramid and back flip for their show that evening.

And then, off to the Ming Tombs and the Sacred Way. So, in one area outside of Beijing, there is a site of 13 different Ming Emperor tombs. They are located in many different spots all in the same valley – which seemed to be slated for redevelopment as a golf course or some such nonsense. There are only four tombs that are open to the public. We went to Ding Ling and walked around the grounds and into the tomb site. The grounds were far more interesting than the actual tomb, though the whole concept of the place was truly fascinating. The grounds were covered in these amazing dragon trees, stripped bare of leaves by the cold winter. Scattered throughout the grounds were small marble and stone tables encircled by small marble elephant chairs where people could sit to have picnics. As we entered the space, we walked through a large archway. In ancient times, the emperor believed that passing through this archway signified moving into a different world – the world of the spirits. When you exited the tomb site through this gate, you would return to the world of reality as you knew it.

The emperor Wanli was buried at this particular tomb. Excavated in the 1950’s, this tomb was created in a vast underground chamber. Within the chamber, there were two main sections – the actual tombs and a long hall leading up to the Diamond Wall where the entrance was ultimately sealed. The tombs were large red coffins containing the emperor and empress’ bodies along with all manners of goodies such as bolts of silk, gold, jewels, and various other bouillon sundries from the empire. Today, when people visit, they throw money at the replica tombs to bring themselves good luck. The deal was this, after the emperor and empress died, the tomb was set up properly and the entire space was filled in with earth, all the way to the Diamond Wall. The wall was self-sealing, and once it was sealed, the rest of the chamber leading back up to the grounds was also filled with earth. I was pretty nonplused with the tomb itself but impressed, I guess, with the trouble and effort it took to seal those people up with all their riches inside the earth. Strange, I think.

The best part of this experience was, again, the great signs we spotted all over the grounds. Thoughtful, anachronistic, cheeky even. Signs such as “Luxuriant grasslands. Please don’t trample.”

We left the Ming Tomb and headed to the Sacred Way, the long walkway that lead funeral processions to the spot of the tomb where their emperor would be buried. The walkway opens with an archway to a stele atop a mythical tortoise-dragon creature called a bixi. The walkway is guarded on either side by 12 sets of officials and animals. We hit it right at sunset, and the effect was so ethereal. Jim happened to notice that all the people and creatures on the left side of the walk from where we approached were smiling just slightly. All those on the right hand side weren’t. A very odd thing, really. So subtle, so slight. You’d never have known it if you weren’t looking carefully. And Jim is always looking carefully. We stood in front of the same elephant that Mao stood in front of sometime in the 1950’s. We walked past these amazing stone creatures at sunset. Truly gorgeous.

Back to the city for us. Exhausted and ready to pass out after a very long day, we hit the hotel and decided to get some rest before we headed out for the evening. We were headed first to the Silk Street market and then to find some good street food. But, who knew that we would get there at 8:45, with only 15 minutes until absolute closing time. Seriously insane. The place was like 6 stories, I think. Anything you wanted you could get there. Women were walking out with full sets of faux D&G and Louis Vuitton luggage. Custom-made dresses and suits are a favorite here. There were just aisles and aisles of bolts of fabric. Gorgeous silks. But there was no time to browse. People throwing sheets over their stalls, hundreds of people being ushered out of the building. Vendors making a mad dash to nab the last customers. Jim had his heart set on some silk shirts as the crazy Korean washing machine has torn his shirts to shreds. We found a stall that was open and, with his mad bargaining skills, he managed to get out of there with a lovely shirt for less than $20, I think. She wanted about $100 at first. So, off we went with all the other shoppers, out the front doors, but not before we found this fabulous sign:

We made it to our next destination just around 9:30. Wangfujing Snack Street, not too far from the Grand Hyatt hotel where we eventually ended up for a last drink. A tiny little series of back alleys that are home to all manner of treats on a stick – lamb, scorpions, starfish, sea horses, chicken, squid, and a variety of other unidentifiable creatures. And, alas, we arrived there exactly at closing time. And just like the Silk Street market, these people were no joke. Gates shutting in our faces, buckets of soapy bleach water being tossed at our feet causing us to scurry away to the next stall trying to catch someone who would feed us. We scarfed down a lamb kebab, which was amazing and delectable, and then found a stall at the end of the alley where Jim bought himself some scorpions on a stick. He gnawed on a few and then I went for it. They were, as we had been told, quite delicious. And crunchy! So, as we were swept out of that place, we headed down the street to yet another street food venue, the Donghuamen Night Market. Made it there just about 10 pm. And, again, with just minutes to spare, the vendors were tearing it all down. So, we hurriedly bought a bunch of random things on sticks and scarfed as much food as we could and ended up spending all the cash we had on us. It was a hilarious night of near misses. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to have the full, relaxed street food experience I had hoped for, but we got the speed tour. And that was just fine. The food still tasted good.

We wandered across the street, and Jim spotted a market he wanted to check out. We made our way into a sea of colors and smells and treats to buy. There were huge troughs full of all kinds of strange candies, one wall covered in packaged meat treats, and a back wall with nothing but expensive and exotic liquors. While I was focused on examining all the strange dried meat-like things on the shelves, Jim managed to find the strangest thing in the store – bottles of wine containing ginseng and snakes. Yes, snake wine, indeed. Bottled in Russia, no less. So, he talked the woman down from her original price, as is the customary game, and he walked out of there with a bottle of snake wine which now sits on display in our living room. We were warned not to drink more than one small cup, to be measured using the top of the bottle. I don’t know that anyone will ever actually drink this stuff. But it’s an awesome and rather disturbing conversation piece. It occurred to me as we were leaving the store that the airlines might have a problem with the bottle. Not necessarily because it’s a snake, but rather because of all the craziness around liquid on flights these days. Surely we were over the 3 fl. oz. limit, or whatever it is. Jim successfully wrapped and padded that thing in his luggage such that we wouldn’t have to deal with Chinese or Korean customs agents inquiring as to whether it was actually legal. And it made it home in one piece.

I unwrapped some of the candy I had bought as an experiment in the store. Popped a chocolate covered somethin’ in to my mouth and was definitely not amused by the taste. Bad liquor chocolate. Not so yummy at all. We made our way back towards the Grand Hyatt where there was a fancy bar I had read about in the Wallpaper guide. Figured we’d walk into fancy land, but I thought a lovely cocktail might be nice. And oh, it was! We walked into the Red Moon Bar and found a very high end sushi restaurant where you could definitely drop like $1000 for dinner and wine and such. We had ourselves some rather amazing cocktails and ordered some tiramisu which had to be “fetched” from the café. It occurred to me that there might be a “fetching” surcharge, but whatever. We were hardly spending any money as it was. What the hell. The tiramisu arrived and was absolutely divine. Truly. And cost a fortune. I think we paid $16 for the dessert which came in a small porcelain cup. But it was all worth it. We sat on our red velvet couch and had a photo shoot with the snake wine. What else do you do in the most expensive sushi restaurant you’ve ever seen but take pictures of snake wine perched on their very plush red velvet pillows?

Happy Year of the Rat!

2008-02-06T16:56:00.000-08:00

Today, February 7, 2008, begins the first day of the lunar calendar and the Year of the Rat (or the Mouse, depending on who you talk to). Rats ain't all that bad. It's believed that people born in the Year of the Rate possess the animal's good qualities (?) They are thus considered to be clever, ambitious, hard- working, quick and sociable. And there you have it. These are shots from Beijing that I found on a Chinese news website. Festivities in Korea are much more about being with familiy. It's not such a public to-do here. But today I will be heading to an afternoon meal with my friend and lots of people here in Seoul. So...Saehae bo mani padusaeyo!

saehae bo mani badusaeyo

2008-02-05T07:04:00.001-08:00

or, lots of good luck in the new year! tomorrow starts the three day lunar new year festival in Korea. lots of other Asian countries and peoples will be celebrating the new year as well, like, um, China, with like dragon parades and stuff. here in Korea it's called Seollal (설날 ). The holiday isn't as much of a parTAY as I've experienced with Chinese New Year in San Francisco. It's much more about being with family and hanging out and eating stuff and playing games.

The tradition involves being together as a family and staying up all night on new year's eve (February 6th this year, February 7th begins the lunar new year, the Year of the Rat). Kids are told that if they don't stay up all night, their eyebrows will turn white. Seriously. No one, and i mean no one, wants white eyebrows, yo. Recognize.

Everyone turns one year older on this day, and it is said that you must eat the traditional dak guk soup (a delicious soup with rice pasta) in order to actually earn that extra year in age. families play all sorts of traditional games and the kids get money from their relatives--the amounts of which were all over the map according to my students. some get the equivalent of about $5, others $100. dunno. and some kids insisted that all they'd do on seollal is play nintendo ds with their cousins. fascinatingly traditional, non?

we have three days off from school which i'll be spending with some friends in seoul. since we won't be around for the holiday, today was Seollal at our school. our morning kids dressed up in their traditional clothing (hanbok), and they bowed to me and my boss as we sat on the floor in front of them (the holiday involves a lot of bowing to your elders and such). i loved it! then, my boss proceeded to whip out a huge stack of 1,000 won bills (about $1). each kid came over to get one and bowed to my boss in the process. i was totally photo crazy today and made the kids have an inordinately long photo shoot. check out the pics below for the full experience!

Seollal (설날) 2008

priceless

2008-02-05T06:56:00.000-08:00

this is barney. he has a friend named dino. every day barney comes to school dressed in this very puffy green coat that you see here. he is a green marshmallow, and when he is spotted in the hall, all you can see are cheeks squeezing through the sides of a puffy hood. it's especially funny when he does belly flops in the media room in the puffy green marshmallow coat. but not as funny when he does mean gorilla face. you don't even know. you don't even know.

i'm here with my choir from greenland

2008-01-31T15:24:00.000-08:00

is what she said the last time i saw the icelandic queen at radio city music hall with dr. and mrs. tumnus. i don't think her shtick will be the choir this time. seems her posters have some uber-suess-like fiberglass headless, big-footed mascot. she's all about the multi-colored tribal stuff these days.
bjork will play seoul on february 16th, and after about 2 1/2 hours, i managed to: 1) register an account in the only online ticketing site in korea IN KOREAN (thanks to this amazing site about Interpark!); and 2) reserve two tickets, one at a 50% discount for some unknown reason (buy 1 get the 2nd 1/2 off, just like Wal-Mart, or something).

one helluva birthday rave

2008-01-30T06:16:00.000-08:00

it was our dear friend badkitty's bday on monday. we took her out for some delicious food and dragged her off to a fish and grill place for coconut and kiwi soju juice and the very traditional korean birthday rave. it's truly spectacular, as you will see. we love our badkitty!

for more pics, check out my flickr site

the nineteen eighties in gwangju

2008-01-29T06:17:00.001-08:00

for a friend's birthday this past weekend, there was a soirée that involved an 80's theme. now, please be aware that many of the people we teach with were born in the *late* 1980's. like seriously, when speaking of such bands as WHAM!, i have been asked, quite often, what's that? was that a band or something. people. puhlease! at any rate, jim and i got in some wacky get-ups and headed to the party, him in a tan shirt a la Crocodile Dundee complete with sideways tie and black tuxedo jacket and jeans. Me in a more 80's punk them with one hell of a classic t-shirt found that day and my oh-so-crazy purple velvet platform boots. yes! purple! velvet! platform! we played some silly drinking games at the apartment and then headed out to the noraebang (korean karaoke room) to belt out some tunes. there must have been about 10 of us. we were rather ridiculous. but i woulda made my people proud. such hits as "livin' on a prayer," "what's love got to do with it," and "buttercup." were sung loud and proud. and just as we finished, i pulled off what is sure to be one of the greatest feats a white girl from arizona has ever achieved in aa korean noraebang: i sand an ENTIRE song in Korean. i read the damn song off the teleprompter AND i somehow also managed to stay on key. i have 100% no idea how this is possible. except for the fact that i ROCK! i can read AND sing in KOREAN people. and there's video to prove it. though you'll have to wait for that until later. i haven't gotten my hands on it yet. at any rate, enjoy the silly pics of the evening's debauchery. please note the caption on my shirt: "it's myself camera love." AND the very Korean shades that Jim found...

one of my favorite finds in beijing

2008-01-29T06:12:00.000-08:00

now, as you know, in Asia, the translation from Korean, or, say, Chinese, to English usually results in a rather comedic experience with misplaced articles and pronouns and the like. we found some pretty sweet signage in Beijing. this was one of my favorites, found in the garden in the Forbidden City.

it was posted at the bottom of the scraggly hill up which the emperor, empress and les concubines climbed up to be secluded in a hilltop abode. poetically practical.

day three: beijing

2008-01-29T05:55:00.000-08:00

Day 3
January 1, 2008

NAMOC, Beihai Park, Houhai at night

We ended up getting a pretty late start on New Years Day after coming home so late and having the experience that we did. I finally found some light in my darkness and resolved to *not* spend one more minute in China feeling sorry for myself or feeling guilty. We made it over to the National Art Museum of China (NAMOC) about an hour before it closed. We saw some pretty incredible art in that space. There was a beautiful exhibit of Chinese wood block prints from the 1930’s-1950’s. They were incredible pieces documenting the experience of life in China in all its political and social turmoil. Scenes of famine, war, the starkness of life as it was. All depicted in simple black and white woodcuts. It was truly a scene of spectacular quietude, so simple and understated in their design but so powerful in their content and emotive impact. We wandered the museum’s first floor, finding pieces of modern art, powerful portraits, comedic cartoonish photo-like images, a gorgeous black and white photo of a lotus leaf that had been distressed and fractilized, Botero-like sculptures and paintings by a Russian artist. I was glad to be back in a space of light and to find some inspiration.

We meandered out of the museum, trying to make it to Beihai Park before the sun went down. Beihai isn’t too far from the Forbidden City. The park is associated with Kublai Khan’s palace, the center of Beijing before the Forbidden City replaced it. It consists of a lake (Beihai means “North Sea”) surrounding park are and an island in the southeast corner of the lake called Jade Islet. Atop the islet is a white Buddhist dagoba that was built in 1651 for the Dalai Lama’s visit. I had read quite a bit about the park and had hoped to get there on our day off from the tour. So, while walking towards the park, we realized we were running out of time. A guy with a bicycle rickshaw offered to take us to the spot for 20 RMB (~$3.00), or so we thought. But he started to take us in the opposite direction. And Jim kept insisting that we go the other way, which we needed to do. Then there was some yelling at the guy and confusion, and I got a little freaked out – here we were in Beijing with nobody but this guy around yelling at us because we were getting out of the rickshaw we had agreed to take. So, I was a little out of it and scared, thinking it would just be better to stay on the damn bike even though that was ridiculous. Finally, Jim convinced me to get out of the rickshaw and we walked in the direction we wanted to go. The guy came around and wanted to pick us up again and take us the direction we wanted to go. So we got on. We rode about 3 minutes down the street and he stopped at the entrance to the park. When we got off, the guy told us he wanted $20, TWENTY US DOLLARS, not 20 RMB. Which is quite literally insane. Completely insane. We were already pissed and I was shaken up and couldn’t believe this guys actually wanted US money from us as we haven’t had any dollars in at least 9 months. It was so bizarre. So we gave him the 20 RMB and walked away. Jim said that as he turned around to look at the guy, he saw a smile spread on his face. Who knows. Seems he may have been satisfied with his swindle after all.

So, Beihai Park, finally. Sunset was gorgeous. Twilight set in on the park and we wandered around the shore of the river taking pictures. The white dagoba stood tall upon the island, illuminated by soft yellow light from different points on the peak. We made our way up a path to get up to it, but soon found that the gates were shut and the paths closed off for the evening. Bummer. So, we made our way slowly around the lake, enjoying from afar the lights of small traditional houses along the shore of the lake. Turning a corner, I saw a mother and her son coming down from a rocky path that led up to some kind of temple just above us. We decided to explore, and as I scrambled up the rocks, I saw that the path actually took us all the way up the backside of the dagoba’s peak. And suddenly, I found myself standing right there in front of it. It was still closed, but we could at least walk around it and get some good night shots from the peak. I found a couple of lookout platforms on one side of the peak and saw below us what looked like some kind of café. Red lanterns glowed in the dark and soft Chinese music floated up to the place where I stood. I waited for Jim to make his way up the hill and we decided to descend down some rather dark rocky steps to see what we could find.

Reaching the bottom of the path, we found a small garden, and on the other side, a long walkway, much like what we had seen at the Temple of Heaven. Lit from the ground all along the walk, the pathway formed an arc around the garden behind it. At one end of the walk, two girls stood in red hooded capes, facing each other, as if welcoming guests through the archway. I turned my head and saw that red lanterns lined the wall to the right, beyond which was the lake. I walked out in to the air, beyond the walkway and noticed that the walk was actually part of a larger building, all of which was painted in traditional Chinese colors and patterns. I walked further down the path, so excited at my discovery, the air chilly on my face, my eyes wide with amazement at this gorgeous scene. I was all alone. No one was on the path. I saw the red hooded girls whispering and heard muffled laughter at the end of the walk. I felt as though I might be in a David Lynch movie. That sense of hyper-reality, the bold red, the colors and light and stillness of ice in water. A few people came around the arc in the path. I walked a little further, and heard heavy steps coming towards me. Two other red capes fluttered past me and swept down the path from where I came. As I rounded the curve, A pair of gold doors stood open. Two of the red capes standing in the doorway, greeting guests.

We had stumbled upon the Fangshan Resturant, a very famous restaurant in Beijing that serves multi-course meals of imperial cuisine based on the food served to the Empress Cixi (who was not a very pleasant empress, to say the least. See the Summer Palace entry later for more on her). I had read about this place, too, but was pretty sure we wouldn’t make it. But, kismet. Here we were. We decided to spend the cash to have this experience. We stepped over through the doorway into a courtyard lit by red lanterns. We were escorted into the main dining room which was gilded and opulent. The tables were set with gold table cloths and yellow Chinese patterned china. We ordered one of the lower-priced set menus as well as some 8 Treasures tea. And we were off. The taste experience was so interesting. On our menu were dishes of lemon duck, bok choy, and, of course, camel hoof. Yes, seriously. Camel hoof. It wasn’t very delicious. Kind of slimy and soft. As Jim kept saying, if you want to try the camel, go with a steak. Don’t eat the foot. But still an experience, nonetheless. The 8 Treasures tea was delicious and fascinating. Every few minutes a woman would come to our table with another one of those uber long-spouted brass teapots and refill our cups in total theatrics. It was a kick. It was a delightful meal and a really lovely way to reset my brain after a difficult night.

After our decadent dining, we headed back to Houhai (yes, again) which was nearby, to do some shopping and find a café to sit in. We managed to find a couple of really great shops and braved the bargaining dance only to be rewarded with a good haul of stuff. Found some beautiful wall hangings, a statue of Ganesh, a Monkey King statue, and other sundries. Found the No Name bar of which I had read so much, and settled in with a nice cup of Irish coffee in a totally pleasant atmosphere by the lake. Houhai is a lake district that is surrounded by hutongs and lined with bars, restaurants and clubs. The neon factor is high there and the pull on the street to get you into the bar is strong. But the No Name bar stands on its own. You’d miss it if you weren’t looking for the low light, easy going atmosphere as the blaring neon swallows it a little. But just at the edge of the lake (actually Qianhai Lake as Houhai is just north of the footbridge), right before the footbridge from Yandai Xiejie street, is a little café covered in wintry trees and decorated with rattan furniture where you can lounge, have a snack and a drink, watch the resident fluffy white cats lounge with you while listening to mellow reggae. At least, that’s what we did. It was a nice surprise to find it as I thought it didn’t exist. And so concluded day 3. A little writing, and a little mellowness inside a busy tour through a busy city.

day two: beijing

2008-01-27T02:44:00.000-08:00

Day 2 December 31, 2007

Tiananmen Square, The Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, Peking duck, Chinese opera and Houhai for New Years

What an incredible day. So much history to see in one day. It was the coldest I have experienced in Asia and perhaps ever in my life in Beijing that day. And we were outside for the majority of the day, bouncing from one place to another.

Tiananmen Square (Gate of Heaven) was first. We walked through the square dotted with other tourists, Chinese guards and tsotchke hawkers, trying desperately to stay warm in the biting cold wind. That day was double scarf, double hat day. I was well aware of how incredibly silly looked, but for once, function trumped fashion and my scheme of bizarre layering kept me reasonable warm. As we walked past Mao’s tomb, a man tried to sell Jim Mao’s little book. Not into the bargaining at that point, I walked on with Tina, our guide, as she explained where we were and how hard it is to get in to see Mao’s tomb on the limited days that it is open to the public. As we walked, Jim caught up with us after a sly bargaining session with the hawker. Mao’s Little Red Book had been purchased, in front of his tomb, for less than $5 – the starting price had been $30, I think. Classic.

So, book, in hand, we made our way across the square to the Forbidden City across the street. I just remember the feeling of awe. I can’t believe we’re in this place. I can’t believe we’re actually seeing the Chinese flag towering above Tiananmen. Seeing Mao’s portrait hanging big as life above the crowds streaming into the city. As we crossed the square, I noticed two things. First, that there were little electric cars zooming around the area – garbage collection/maintenance cars, and second, that there happened to be a large group of people wearing the classic souvenir commie red winter hat holding a Mexican flag. Yes, seriously, a large group of Mexicans taking a group shot in Tiananmen Square. It was surprising to say the least. Not something one would expect to see in China.

So, we passed through the underground walkway to get to the entrance to the Forbidden City. Columns and bridges lined the front entrance. Dragons climbed the columns and the pair of lions stood on either side of the entrance – female/mother lion with the small lion cub under her front left paw on the left and male/father lion with the globe under his left paw on the right (for those of you familiar with Chinese iconography, these are classic symbols, but I won’t pretend here that I really have any idea what most of the things I saw meant as I really have no experience with any of it aside from this trip to Beijing).

Entering the gates of the city was surreal. We walked through the cold and stopped just short of the actual entrance to wait for Tina to buy our tickets. As we waited, I entertained myself by doing some funny signature dances and staring in awe at the Russian tourists surrounding us. This was one of the highlights of the trip as far as people watching went. You see, this is a new breed of tourist for me – the wealthy (or seemingly wealthy) Russian tourist. The women are often covered from head to toe in fur and drip with jewels. Their hair has been frosted, dyed, streaked, highlighted and extended. Their makeup is definitely Mac Factor-style. And they and their male counterparts ooze with heavy perfume and cologne. They traveled in large groups. And seriously, the furs were out of control. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent quite a bit of time trying to capture the essence of their persona on film, but I don’t think I ever really succeeded.

And so into the city we went, wandering through ancient gates, peering into temples and ceremonial sites. Empress quarters, classrooms, business rooms, etc. Across stone bridges and around sculptures of auspicious animals. As we were about to pass through one of the last sections of the city with the longest dragon wall, I caught sight of the Mexicans again. And being so starved for the language, I couldn’t resist speaking to the when I heard Spanish floating around. So, I stopped one boy as he walked by, asking him where they were from. Well, Mexico. Ok, where, though? Sonora. Ok, where, though? Oh, Guaymas, Hermosillo. We’re university students. Wow. Right. So, Sonora, Mexico is essentially Arizona. Pima County, where I’m from butts right up against Sonora. And kids in my school for as long as I can remember were from Guaymas and Hermosillo. So, suddenly, I find myself in Beijing, inside the Forbidden City, speaking Spanish with a guy from Hermosillo (did I mention that he was adorable, totally cute, so cute, in fact, that Jim thought I was talking to a girl! Ah, el guapos mexicanos.). It was fantastic. Strangely, I’ve found that speaking Spanish here, though I rarely get the chance, is actually quite easy. Last weekend I went to a party for a friend’s birthday and I met a Korean guy who spent the first 10 years of his life in Madrid. So, he’s Spanish-Korean, and speaks perfect Spanish and English. We spoke for quite a while and it felt so good to get into the language again. But I digress…

We made it through the city in about 2 hours and were then whisked away to our first on-tour lunch. Lemme tell you, divine. Seriously some of the best food on this tour. I’m a little obsessed with food and taking pictures of food. So, be prepared to be regaled with tales of culinary delights. This first lunch was this: cabbage steamed and sautéed with chestnuts, stir fried strips of delicious pork, lemon duck, and this amazing soup that had some sort of leafy green in it that seemed to be covered in a thin layer of gelatin. The leaf could have been lotus, maybe, but I’d never seen anything else like it. No one could tell us the English word, but ended up having the soup again, so it’s pretty common, I’m guessing. And of course, jasmine tea. All the restaurants we went to with the tour were pretty big places with tons of tables and lovely atmosphere. They all had enormous Buddha statues and shrines in their foyers. This first restaurant was the best one, though. Big, fat, gold, happy Buddha with dozens of little Buddha babies climbing all over the place.

After lunch, the Temple of Heaven (Tiantan). This is a series of temples set in a large park built by the Ming dynasty. The temple site has been a place of harvest ceremonies for more than a thousand years. There are four main structures in the complex – the Round Altar, the Echo Wall, the Imperial Vault of Heaven and the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. I won’t spend too much time here discussing the significance of all these places. I don’t know enough about them to say more than what my guide book tells me. But the experience there was truly breathtaking and beautiful. We entered the park from the east and found ourselves on a long, open walkway stretching along one side of the large wooded park. All along this walkway were older, retired men and women engaged in everything from gambling to fan dancing to playing hackey sack with a feathered toy. It was incredible. I wandered along the walkway watching so many things going on at the same time. We found some ladies doing a fan dance with bright red fans. I watched little ladies knitting all manner of small animals and wearbles along the walls of the walkway. Old men played traditional instruments as people gathered around them to sing and dance. Other people played all sorts of games, one like an elegant version of smash ball or the Basque game, pelota, where they use those big wicker baskets to throw the ball, and the other, the hackey sack game. Jim bought one of the feathered hackey sack and the three of us played for quite a while towards the end of the walkway. A Chinese man cheered us on on the sidelines. It was awesome. And as we played, we watched another man walk by us, turning circles as he walked down the long hallway towards the entrance to the Temple of Heaven. Truly blissful.

As we walked through the complex, we wandered into small exhibits halls off to the side of the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests. Inside we had conversations about religion and cultural traditions. How my country is different from China. Trying to explain to our tour guide, a Buddhist from a culture with such deep, iconographic and ceremonial history, that the US simply does not have any such thing and that it is quite radically different from the history I was witnessing in China. We came upon a picture of Nixon with Mao, and we tried to explain the views on Nixon, which led us into a pretty frank and not so rosy conversation about the current administration and it’s ties to that administration, which led to a conversation about Reagan, which prompted a man standing nearby to make one of the strongest defensive comments about Reagan I have experienced in a long time, basically deriding Jim for a comment he had made about the decade in which the man was an actor, reminding us quite sternly and condescendingly that he was also the governor before he was the president, and then brashly and huffily turning on his heels and walking away. Seems even Republicans travel to China. We walked away laughing at the absurdity of the exchange. In Korea, it is pretty rare to be around anyone who understands what I’m saying, which is a weird space to be in. I took to heart the realization that my ideas and comments do travel to ears that understand, even in a space where seemingly no one speaks my language. Though I certainly didn’t care what that man thought of my views or Jim’s, it was valuable as an experience to be reminded that I am not alone in my world.

As we made our way to the south entrance of the complex to end our tour of the Temple of Heaven, was walked to the top of the Round Altar, upon which there is a heart center. It is said that if you stand at that heart center and make a wish, it will come true. And when it does, you must travel back to that spot to pay tribute to the gods for bringing your dream to fruition. I think I made a wish. I’m not sure if it will come true.

After a short rest in our hotel so that we could change (it was New Year’s Eve after all), we were taken to our evening of duck and opera. The restaurant was inside a hotel and the opera theater was next door. A dozen groups of foreigners dotted the tables in the space, all of us either probably with the same tour company –Germans, French, English, Australians, Americans. Our dinner was brought out in courses, with some little snack-like treats to start. It wasn’t long after eating some of these fine treats that I began to experience the strangest of sensations. You see, my jaw suddenly felt like it was floating away. Not really locking up, but actually floating on air away from me, like if I didn’t keep it shut, my mouth would just waft away and I wouldn’t be able to eat anything at all. I didn’t have a headache, but my body in general felt this same kind of lightness. Perhaps an MSG allergy? After a few minutes, Jim said, well, um, I’ve heard of this happening to people who have been poisoned. And then they die. Which was definitely heartening, let me tell you. But I just rolled with it, didn’t panic. Stopped eating at that point to let my body settle. Had some of the duck wrapped in lettuce leaves and jajang sauce, but essentially just tried to keep a grip on my jaw until the feeling passed. And it did, but man, was that ever the strangest. Like I was really high. No explanation. Any medical experts out there care to comment?

Post-dinner was traditional Chinese opera. We watched the actors put on their elaborate make-up in the lobby with all the other tour groups, and then we headed to our seats. The seats turned out to be dinner theater-style seats right at a table about two tiers up from the stage. Pretty nice. We were served a lovely array of sweet treats and mandarin oranges and a funky dude in full traditional dress came out to pour hot water into our tea cups from a brass teapot with an extra-long spout. Very theatrical. Kind of kung fu-style water pouring. And then the show. Sparse sets, minimal dialogue, lots of movement and creation of experience on stage. I knew very little about the art, so it was pretty fascinating to watch. There were two plays – one about a traveler whose identity is mistaken and the other that was titled (get this): Monkey King Fights 18 Warriors. Yes. I’m serious. And he did. And the warriors were clowns and carnies. Like midgets, and strong men and guys on stilts and bearded ladies. Seriously. It was pretty hilarious. Kind of like a kung fu circus act. Great costuming, great makeup.

And then it was back to Houhai to find a spot to chill for a New Years’ celebration. We found a tiny little joint to duck into that was pretty chill and ambient. Unfortunately, I had some kind of bee in my bonnet that made me super itchy to get movin’ to the next spot. I’m not really sure what that bee is. It’s this urge that comes over me that insists that I have to get to the next place because it will be so much better than where I am right now. And try as I might, I can’t get that urge to subside or stand down, and sometimes it just takes over. And it did that night. So, instead of just getting up and taking a walk for a while or finding something to do in that space, I made it known that I wanted to leave. This shook Jim out of a zen space he had been in writing and drawing about his experience thus far. And as I continued to insist that we go, his mind got more and more twisted into frustration. And we left there with not so great a boding for what the rest of the evening had to offer.

We managed to find a bar to go to in a different spot, and rang in the New Year with some actual, real mint mojitos, something that we have *not* been able to find in Korea. We met an Australian couple and struck up a chat with them. Ended up in the bar across the street – the Azúcar Bar – where they had bullfighting and Almodóvar posters (seems español was a theme for me in China) and where we listened to about 100 different covers of Beatles songs and met a funny and very drunk Mongolian girl named Emma who spoke good and creative English. She and I had a very funny chat about boys and life and girlfriends. Somewhere around 3 am I was ready to go home. But it didn’t really play out the way I hoped it would. We ended up staying out much later, I ended up getting pretty frustrated with the situation as the Aussie guy was buggin’ and being kind of an ass to Jim, and eventually, I got myself into a point of no return with my frustration. It exploded in a not-so-fun fight on the way home which sadly didn’t end when we got to the hotel.

I had gotten myself stuck in that space where I can’t do anything right and I’m not really good enough and all that tired garbage that I tell myself when I feel out of control and confused and scared. And it took me a while – actually into the next day – to fully come out of it and find the heart of what had happened the night before and why I had reacted the way that I had. Of all the things I’ve learned in Asia, the most critical lesson for me has been to look deeply into my actions and reactions to find the heart of what is driving them and to take responsibility for what is truly mine, no matter how ugly it may seem. Only then can I get past all the surface anxiety and anger and frustration and see the fear and sadness and whatever else exists that pushes me into places like this. And only then can I actually find the true voice in my head, the one that is benevolent and kind and understanding and accepting and allow it to take the space of the voice that is nothing but judgment and accusation and guilt. There is, of course, much more to be said about all of that, but this isn’t quite the right space. Perhaps later.

bustling in beijing

2008-01-07T07:23:00.000-08:00

First of all, this was an incredible trip. Truly one of the most spectacular places I have ever traveled for so many reasons – the size of the city, the sheer mass of people moving through it at any one time, the ancient history peeking through towering modernity at every turn, the obvious intensity of urban transformation and urban renewal in preparation for an international debut in August as the host of the 2008 Olympics, and my presence at some of the most fabled locations in history, pulsating with culture, ancient wisdom and deep memory.

It was a trip that took me by surprise, falling just after the Christmas rush – holiday parties, events at school, mailing packages back to the states, the usual holiday fervor. I barely started reading about the city and our planned itinerary just three days before our departure. Most of my research was done on the train to Seoul, reading fascinating articles sent to us by Jim’s dad about the city in flux and the architectural restructuring of Beijing as a place where the ancient and the modern collide, sometimes not so amicably.

The Word on the Street
The topics du jour of most reporting focused on Beijing these days are air quality and the fate of the ancient hutong – the neighborhoods in Beijing that are the diametric opposites of the giant skyscrapers and modern apartment buildings going up all over the city. The air quality, as many people know, is abysmal – in some cases, even being called the “air pollution capital of the world.” Architects have been lamenting the “Beijing haze” that extends across the city and makes viewing new buildings from far distances nearly impossible. Here are a couple of good articles on the current state of air pollution and preparations for the games. The city is taking great measures to curb the pollution in the months leading up to the games, but it’s insane, really, to think that the air will be at all actually “good” for you. When we were there, the haze was visible as were the many smokestacks dotting the skyline. We managed to not develop a hacking cough, but it isn’t a city I’d want to live in for a long period of time precisely because of the air issues.

The other hot topic in the world of journalism is the hutong. The hutong is a classic example of community living in Beijing. They are neighborhoods set in dark, small alleyways all throughout the city. No one has any idea how many there are right now, and there are many conflicting stats on how many there were in 1960 (2,000, 4,000, 6,000) and how many there are now (800, 2,000). What people do agree on is this: there are far less hutong now than there were 50 years ago.

Many hutong were built almost 800 years ago. The Wikipedia article has some good basic info on them. They were originally created in the courtyard-style, with one courtyard housing 20 or so members of one family. The buildings are low-slung, sloped-roof constructions in the shape of a rectangle with a courtyard in the center. Living quarters were placed around this courtyard, with different areas for men and women, cooking, sleeping, etc. During the Cultural Revolution (a topic that’s far too complex to elaborate in here, but one that is fascinating and essential to understanding the history of Beijing and China), when Chairman Mao deemed it necessary to expunge all evidence of external influence on the country – art, music, dance, theater, and even some traditions of artistry that were native to China, there was also a transformation in the housing and city plan situation. Highrises and wide boulevards took priority over the preservation of these historic areas. Over a period of 60 years, many hutongs have been leveled, though hard work has gone into forcing the city to preserve a numbers of areas. In addition, though I’m not so clear on how this went down, but we are told that in the late 70’s, there was an earthquake in Beijing that required creative housing arrangements. One of the executed plans was the transformation of the courtyard spaces in to actual living spaces. So rooms were constructed in the interior spaces, eliminating an essential architectural element and forcing many more people to live in close quarters.

Many hutong have been neglected as living spaces in a city that pushes relentlessly towards modernity. Many do not have indoor plumbing, forcing residents to walk far distances to public toilets on the outskirts of each neighborhood. Some of the hutong are pretty run-down, and people live in squalor. The argument has been that if the government had devoted resources to providing each area with the basic necessities of infrastructure that they needed to be viable as residential areas, there would be much less reason to bulldoze them and build new towering apartments on top of them. But alas, big real estate usually prevails in such situations. And the issues surrounding the hutong are many. There’s the usual concerns that accompany destruction of ancient neighborhoods: displacement of families, loss of affordable housing, etc. And then there’s the idea that some of these places really aren’t suitable for human existence. And so what do you do with that? But whatever you think about the hutong, the destruction and displacement is evident when you get above street level in the city. We stood atop a tower (called the Drum Tower) near the Houhai area and gazed upon several nearby areas that had been clearly leveled to make way for new construction.

There definitely a preservation movement afoot to keep the hutong that are “worth” preserving intact. The Houhai area is one of those being preserved -- and one that is heavily populated by rickshaw drivers ready to take you on a hutong tour. And there’s also a handful of new investors who are commissioning the construction of new courtyard houses either within hutong areas or in between giant apartment buildings, as we witnessed in several places in our tours around the city. Western cash is flowing in to snap up these historic houses. Rupert Murdoch put his name on the list.

Whichever way you cut it, the transformation of Beijing is intense and pervasive. It’s palpable everywhere. The first place we went when we arrived was to a subway stop to catch a cab to a spa we had an appointment at. When we got out of the subway, we were smacked with so many conflicting images – brand new luxury mall across the street complete with Burberry, Chanel, and Gucci; a sign for a Wal-Mart parking lot; hundreds of bicyclers crisscrossing the streets, weaving in an out of serious manic traffic; vendors on the corners selling roasted sweet potatoes out of a giant steel drum barrel burning with hot coals; a magazine stand on the corner brimming with Western fashion magazines, Chinese newspapers and a variety of girlie magazines. And so, with that “brief” introduction, on to the real deal on our trip through Beijing.

2007 December 29: Stopover in Seoul
After trying to make two trains and almost missing the third one, we made it out of Gwangju and up to Seoul. We spent a lovely evening in the city with our dear friends, Bonnie and Justin, sharing good stories, great insights, fabulous music and general silliness. They were generous enough to give us some space to crash at their wee apartment. While we were there, chatting away, drinking Yogi tea and enjoying the warmth of the small space, it had been snowing outside, unbeknownst to the silly kids inside. We flung open the triple set of windows to let some cool air into the steamy space, and found to our delight the street below dusted with fresh snow. One of the most beautiful things for me – snow that falls undisturbed in the wee hours of the night, lit by the orange glow of street lights. Lovely indeed. And so, after a glorious evening, we headed to the airport around 6 am to catch our 2-hour flight to Beijing.

2007 December 30: Landing in Beijing
We were greeted at the airport by our cute little tour guide, Tina. Fresh out of university, this was only her second month as an official guide. She was sweet and funny. She ushered us off to our private car (yes, PRIVATE! No Minnesotans or Floridians in white sneakers to contend with on our tour.), and we headed to our hotel. Once on the highway, the enormity of Beijing was apparent. Construction everywhere, dilapidated buildings abutting brand new concert halls and office complexes, malls everywhere, fabulous modern architecture tucked in next to ancient temple sites and Ming palaces. And the cars. Our perspective on traveling there was interesting having been in Korea for as long as we have been. In Korea, there are very few non-Korean cars on the roads. In Beijing, every make and model you could imagine crawled along in traffic. VW, Ford, Chrysler, Honda, Toyota.

On to the hotel. Wow. Super modern, super posh. Definitely the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in as a traveler. The space was lovely as were the rooms and the buffet breakfast that we discovered the next morning – Western and Chinese food galore. I got crispy bacon and banana bread along with lamb curry and yummy Sichuan chicken. We relaxed in the hotel for a bit, unwinding and unpacking. Put the bunny ears on, of course, with our plush hotel robes. Very decadent. Then, we were off to the Zen Spa to enjoy a 90 minute signature combo massage (Thai, Swedish, Chinese and some other things thrown in for good measure). The winter season with its low tourism rates made the offer too good to pass up – about $100 for a 90 minute massage in a private couple room set in a courtyard house. I mean really!

Our trip was a trip. We had no idea how to get where we were going. The place was pretty far out in the southeastern corner of the city, beyond the 4th Ring Road (the city is divided by 4 ring roads that encircle the ancient center of the city, the first of which resulted in the destruction of the original city wall in its construction). We jumped on the subway, managed to get to our stop, and found a taxi to the spa. On the way, we passed some really bizarre new buildings and our first Wal-Mart in China. When we arrived at the spa, it was tucked back behind a lot of crazy construction, down a small street bordering a city river of sorts. I jumped out of the taxi (super cheap, btw, about $4 for a 20 minute ride), and left one glove behind in my haste and amazement at where we had found ourselves. It’s impossible to describe the beauty and awe of this city. Hopefully the pictures we have will do it some justice. But I’ll try to explain. We had come upon a courtyard house with several different sections. On the right side was a large meeting hall or temple space of sorts that housed a large number of chairs in the main room as well as a dozen large jade sculptures that lined the windows. The room had a stage or sorts and a balcony area. There was a main door to the space immediately in front of us. I don’t have any idea what the place was used for, but it was gorgeous. The entrance to the spa was on the left. We walked up some stone steps and found a sleek line of marble and granite speckled with tea lights leading us to the reception area. We were greeted with such warmth and accommodation by lovely receptionists. We were ushered to our room across the courtyard, a space that contained a stunning Japanese garden lined by a traditionally painted corridor that wrapped around its circumference.

And oh the room. Oh my. I don’t know that I’ve ever stepped into a place that was quite as beautiful as this. It was probably about 800 sq. ft. complete with a silk upholstered couch, two massage tables, a bed in the corner for special treatments, a huge divided bathroom with a toilet and sink on one side and a double Jacuzzi tub on the other, and finally, a granite shower with bamboo lining one wall. Everything was candlelit and adorned with small purple orchids and gerber daisies. There were even gerbers floating in a bowl just below the spot of the table for our heads, so that when we were laying face down, our views was of them rather than just the ground.

The massage was incredible. One therapist for each of us. 90 minutes of heaven. It had been a long time since I indulged like that, and let me tell you, Kabuki’s got nothing on this place. We drank lovely lemon green tea and enjoyed some snacks after our treatment in the main reception area. I had mentioned to the receptionist that I had left my glove in the taxi, and she promised to “do her best” to recover the glove for me. Sure enough, as I was getting ready to pay, she reached under the counter and produced the missing glove. She had tracked down the taxi and asked him to come back to take us wherever we needed to go next. I was astounded. But not as astounded at the random deal we got shortly thereafter. I handed the girl my amex card to pay for the treatments. She disappeared for a minute and returned with the news that since we both had the same treatment, and I was paying with an amex, I would get a 15% discount. That’s what I heard. 15%. So the slip comes back for me to sign, and I’m startled b/c the 15% I thought I heard had suddenly turned into 50%. So, for the lucky price of 800 RMB (or ~$100), we got two of the best massages we’ve had in a long time in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I was floored and couldn’t explain until we got to the car. And when we did, we found the same taxi driver ready to take us to our next destination.

And that destination was Wal-Mart.

Go ahead, laugh all you want. We went. It was a necessary evil. It was weird. We escaped rather quickly, even snagging some great deals on Chinese New Year paper art on our way. We ducked into the godforsaken place to see if we couldn’t find a camera for jim as he had left his prized digital in Gwangju and was understandably distraught over the loss of it. We ended up moving on to another place and finding a decent camera and paying cash in full for it.

And off we went to Houhai, a district of hutong, bars, restaurants, cafes and clubs lining a lovely lake district in the northwestern section of town, above the Forbidden City. We meandered in extremely cold weather along a long boulevard and discovered a tiny little Tibetan restaurant with only a handful of tables. Inside, we found warmth and not a single other customer. The place was adorned with gorgeous traditional Tibetan art and the waitresses, clearly a family, were dressed in the most beautiful silk gowns. We ordered two different kinds of curries, a rice dish that came with an explosion of flavorful additions mixed into it, and a sheep leg (I kept saying how it tasted like the farm, and Jim kept asking me, what farm?). We drank tea that we couldn’t possibly identify and Tibetan beer. After dinner, we wandered further into the neighborhood and found a bustling street with lots of shops and bars. We heard Jack Johnson drifting down the street and ducked into the bar that was its source. A dark little cavern where I had the worst Manhattan of my life and Jim drank a pretty decent Brandy Alexander, though I’ve never actually had one, so I couldn’t tell you what the hell it’s supposed to taste like. We got pretty tired pretty fast and made our way back to our palatial room at the Holiday Inn.

Stay tuned for more tales from Beijing...

the lost file: a secret (korean) garden

2007-12-27T15:39:00.000-08:00

this is a story i started writing about in December, and I apparently never finished. so, it's a little out of date, but it's a wonderful tale about a lovely garden restaurant that jim and i were treated to over the holidays. so, here you go:

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about two weeks ago, jim's student, Swan, and her mom invited us out for lunch. at first, i thought she might be inviting us out to their farm as jim had told me all about the stories Swan has shared in their class. Now, Swan is about 6 years old. She doesn't have the most awesome reading and writing skills, but her speaking skills are more polished than most of our older students. She can tell a story with a serious dramatic edge (apparently the Halloween ghost story she told scared the pants off the kids) and is rather precocious for her age to say the least. She's got style, too. She knows what she likes and what she doesn't, and she's not afraid to tell you. She the kind of kid who talks to adults like she's one of you. And sometimes, I wonder if she secretly is.

But alas, no trip to the farm. Just a date to be picked up and taken off to lunch somewhere in the city. So, we made a plan for last Wednesday, election day. Swan and her little friend, a boy who is 5 and seems to have grown up with her, came to our door to pick us up. They were pretty hysterical. The boy whose name I can't remember was carrying a small blue lunch box which I would later find out didn't have any lunch in it at all, but rather was filled with treasures from his adventures of being 5. plastic toys, rocks, feathers, crayons, etc.

We were taken to a restaurant pretty far out of Gwangju. It's a galbi (bbq) place that doubles as a botanical garden. We arrived and headed into the garden to wait for our table. We immediately entered into this incredibly warm, incredibly lush, incredibly gorgeous greenhouse garden. In the maze of paths we discovered small traditional wooden huts with benches where people were sitting having a picnic and kids were climbing every which way. There were beds of tulips in bloom, giant tropical birds of paradise, star gazer lilies, and fabulous wooden folk sculptures nestled in between the vegetation. The kids jumped and zig-zagged over and around rocks and bushes. In one corner, we found a small pond with a water pipe fountain. The pipe seemed to be floating in mid-air, water spilling perpetually from its spout. It was nearly impossible to see, but a mirror covered the wall behind this fountain, creating the illusion before us. We found a desert garden full of agave and prickly pear. And we even found sage, rosemary and mint! Incredible. We've never been able to lay our hands on mint in Gwangju. I had hoped to grow some in our garden, but it never really worked out with the winter and all.

After taking in the garden, we headed into the restaurant and enjoyed a really lovely meal with the kids and the moms. It was an awesome day. I hope to get back there again before I leave.

cheese

2007-12-27T15:20:00.000-08:00

a trip to the local Lotteria, the Korean fast food chain. who doesn't want clowns and turkeys looming above them in a pseudo-50's diner setting while enjoying a squid burger? please, tell me, who??!!