Traveling is Awesome

Catching up - Boseong

2011-05-12T07:16:00.000-07:00

The other night I was spring cleaning my computer files and realized (again!) that many of my Korea experiences have not been chronicled on this blog. Partly for readers out there, and partly because this is the only form of journaling that I do, I'm going to try (again!) to catch up.

Today's post is a brief re-cap of a trip to Boseong in spring 2010. Boseong is one of Korea's prime green tea growing locations. Although it's in Chollanamdo, the province I lived in the first time I was in Korea, I never made it to Boseong until last year (with my old roommate from Mokpo, who still lives there). I think we visited a bit early in the season; I've seen pictures of lush green tea fields, and as you'll see, they were still showing signs of winter brown when we were there. Regardless, it was a great way to spend a lovely spring day with a couple of friends.

We started our visit with green tea ice cream:

On the way from the parking lot to the tea fields, we walked past this beautiful bamboo forest.

Then we hiked around exploring the tea fields for a while.

And after all that walking around, it was time for another green tea treat: a surprisingly yummy green tea latte.

Winter Travels

2011-05-06T05:44:00.000-07:00

It's May 6th today, so obviously it's a bit late to be posting about my winter travels. Late, but not surprising, right? That's kind of the way things work on this blog.

In January, after a snowstorm in Philly that cancelled my flight and a 6-hour wait at 30th Street Station for a train to DC, where I was finally re-routed after hours on the phone with American Airlines, I returned to Seoul. All that waiting ate up the 24 hours that I was supposed to have to sleep in my own bed, do laundry, and re-pack before leaving for Tanzania. My friend Michelle saved the day; she took the list I e-mailed to her, went to my apartment to gather what I needed for Tanzania, and met me at the airport, where I had just over two hours to unpack/re-pack my bags and take off on my next flight.

Then that flight was late getting to Doha, Qatar, which meant I missed the once-a-day flight from Doha to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. This time it was my friends Crystal and Michael who saved the day; they live in Doha and picked me up and hosted me at their apartment that night.

Once I finally got to Dar and then caught my domestic flight to Moshi, there was one more hitch. Paul, the guy who had arranged our Kilimanjaro trek and safari, did not meet me at the airport as planned. I had written down the name of the hotel and just took a taxi there, so that didn't seem to be such a big issue. My cousin Kirsten and our friend Eric were supposed to arrive later that night; I waited and waited and waited and began to worry about what had happened to them, unable to check flight status as the Internet was down. When we finally did connect the next morning, I found out that Paul had also failed to meet them; the guy who claimed he was there for Paul took them to a different hotel, and they had no idea where I was. As there were two of them and I was alone, they were even more worried than I had been!

Anyway, all's well that ends well, right? It did end well - we all made it safely to the summit of Kilimanjaro, and then met up with our cousin Nathaniel for an amazing safari and a few relaxing days on Zanzibar. Here's the photo story:

Tanzania

In February, Michelle (the one who saved me at the airport in January) and I flew to Jakarta, where our friend Nancy is teaching. My friend Leslie flew in from the States the next day, and Michelle, Leslie and I spent a few days with the orangutans in Borneo (or Kalimantan, as they say in Indonesia). From there we flew to Bali; Nancy, who was then off for the Chinese New Year, met us there for several days of fun and relaxation - and lots of good food and shopping and spa-ing! Michelle and Nancy each returned home from there, and Leslie and I hopped on a ferry to Lombok, where we hiked to a waterfall and did some amazing snorkeling around the Gili Islands. Here's that trip in pictures:

Indonesia

"Responsible Tourism"

2011-03-12T04:47:00.000-08:00

I read an interesting article in the New York Times this week that explores the idea of spending money wisely when abroad, especially in developing countries - a topic I brought up in my last post here. I don't agree with all of it, but both the article and readers' comments on it are thought provoking and worth a look. Here's the link for anyone who's interested: http://travel.nytimes.com/2011/03/13/travel/13prac.html

"You Work for Holidays; We Work for Food"

2011-02-28T05:15:00.000-08:00

That's a quote from an interesting conversation with a taxi driver in Lombok, Indonesia a few weeks ago. It was near the end of an amazing trip with three great friends, and it left me feeling a bit sad and reflective.

I do a lot of my traveling in developing countries, and in those places I'm always struck by the inequality that exists in our world. Mostly at those moments I feel incredibly blessed, but there are also times when I sort of hate being the rich White Westerner. Sometimes that's because I feel a bit guilty for enjoying so much when so many others have so little. To be honest, though, it's usually because I'm being exorbitantly overcharged for something, which creates an inner dilemma: do I argue that I should pay the local price for the same product or service (like a taxi ride) that a local would, and do I try to avoid being one of the rich White Westerners who drives up the price for all of my fellow rich White Westerners to come after me? Or do I rationalize that the price difference (often a dollar or two, sometimes even less) wouldn't even cover the cost of a cup of coffee here in Seoul, but could buy, say, food for a day for an Indonesian taxi driver's family? More and more I find myself coming down on the latter side of that argument. I'd like to think it's because I'm becoming more compassionate as I grow older, but actually it's probably more due to the fact that I'm no longer a penny-pinching Peace Corps volunteer or grad student.

Obviously tourist dollars won't close the inequality gap, but I think they really do make a difference for those taxi drivers and market vendors who make a living that way. As we were preparing to leave our last campsite on Kilimanjaro (that's a topic for another post!), our guide thanked us for coming. He encouraged us to encourage our friends to visit Tanzania (and indeed, I encourage any of you reading this to go!), pointing out that visitors create jobs for people like him and our cook and our porters. After that, they all sang us this song:

Jambo, Jambo bwana (Hi, hi sir.)
Habari gani? (How are you?)
Mzuri sana (Very fine.)
Wageni mwakaribishwa (Visitors are welcome)
Kilimanjaro (Kilimanjaro!)
Hakuna matata (There are no worries)

(Thanks to fellow Kili climber Eric for the video and to http://www.museke.com/en/node/1125 for the lyrics and translation)

Return to Jeju

2010-11-04T07:15:00.000-07:00

Jeju is an island province that lies just to the south of the Korean peninsula. It's often referred to as "Korea's Hawaii," and it was for some time the honeymoon destination for Korean newlyweds. As the Korean economy has grown I think the honeymoon market has expanded to places like Phuket and Boracai, but Jeju remains a popular destination for mainland tourists.

I went to Jeju twice during my first stint in Korea. I've never been to Hawaii, but I think that comparison raised my expectations a bit too high, especially with regard to beaches. There are a couple of picturesque waterfalls, some pretty coastal scenery, and unique lava tube caves on the island; there's also lots of grass, which you don't see much of in Korea. So it's not Hawaii, but Jeju does make for a pleasant getaway.

The second time a visiting friend and I did a bit of hiking on Hallasan, the volcano in the center of the island, but due to bad weather and closed trails, we couldn't make it to the top. Though I'd pretty much exhausted the other highlights of the island, that mountain was always there to draw me back.

Enter a short mid-semester break, a couple of colleagues who share my affinity for hiking, and really cheap plane tickets, and you have my return to Hallasan, which is Korea's tallest mountain (1950 meters/6397 feet). Some stunning fall colors were a bonus, but even without them, our two full days of hiking would have been a worthwhile third trip!

Here we are near the high point on our first day's hike. In the distance behind us you can see the outer rim of the crater that's at the peak.

The next photo was taken about three hours into our hike on day two, followed by a couple of shots of the view near the peak.

I can't seem to get these pictures to line up here, but this is an attempt at a panoramic shot of the crater at the top:

Most photos that I've seen of Hallasan show a bright blue lake in the crater; I guess it must dry up in the fall/winter. We'll see how much longer I stay in Korea, but maybe one of these days I'll have to make one last trip to Jeju to see the lake!

Arab Lite II - Falcons

2010-06-16T05:32:00.001-07:00

One of the highlights of my trip to the UAE was a visit to the falcon hospital outside Abu Dhabi. It's a bit off the beaten path, but tours have been growing in popularity and some days there are large groups of visitors - so we were happy when we arrived to find we had the whole place to ourselves.

Arab sheikhs spare no expense when it comes to their massive month-long hunting expeditions (setting up huge camps in places like Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, for men only of course), or when it comes to buying or caring for their birds. The hospital takes care of falcons from all over the world, but mainly from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States; they offer veterinary services and boarding facilities (which are air-conditioned!).

Good hunting falcons are not cheap; this one, which belongs to the hospital, is at the low end of the price range: about $20,000.

We got to watch a falcon be anesthetized, then have its blood drawn and talons clipped:

Here's a falcon with a damaged wing, and another that had its feet bandaged:

The staff also explained how they replace feathers. They have a very carefully organized selection of replacement feathers (which need to be matched perfectly by size, type of feather, and position to achieve proper balance for flight - and by color to keep the owner happy).

The feather repair kit includes - no joke - Superglue!

Arab Lite - Part I

2010-05-23T05:28:00.000-07:00

Except for Jordan and Israel, the Middle East has never been high on the list of places I want to visit. I have two friends living there though, and as I knew it would be fun to catch up with them - and that it would be warm and sunny in February - off I went to the United Arab Emirates and Qatar! Now that I've been there, of course, I want to see more. Lebanon, Syria, and Oman have been added to my wish list.

Yes, the trip was in February and it's May now. Rather than procrastinate any longer, I've decided to tackle the blog entries in bite-size chunks. Today's topic:

The Gulf
I always pictured the water in the Persian Gulf looking a bit like the ocean off coast of New Jersey - sort of brown and uninspiring. I could not have been more wrong! Here's a shot of Jumeirah Beach in Dubai:

And here's a city beach in Abu Dhabi:

Still to come: falcons, mosques and Muslims, the Empty Quarter . . .

Puno and Pictures from Peru

2010-05-07T05:18:00.000-07:00

At long last, the final installment on my winter trip to Peru:

After flying, biking, and hiking, we added bus and boat to our modes of transportation in Peru. The bus was a tourist coach from Cusco to Puno that made stops along the way at the Sistine Chapel of South America (beautiful paintings on the ceiling, but while I haven't seen the actual Sistine Chapel, I'm pretty sure the Peruvian one pales in comparison), a small museum, a high mountain pass, and some Inca ruins.

Puno is a small city on the shore of Lake Titicaca, the starting point for many tours of the lake. We did a two-day tour, visiting the man-made floating Uros Islands, Amantani Island, where we spent the night, and Tequile Island.

The Uros originally created their floating islands to keep a safe distance from the Incas; currently some of the people still live, work, and attend school on the islands, but many of them live in Puno and just go out to the islands each day to play host to tourists - and to rip them off.

Our visit to the Uros started out well. The president of one of the islands explained some of their traditions and showed us a model of how the islands are constructed. We poked our heads into some of the huts, took a few photos, and then, at our guide's instruction, climbed into this boat:

Our whole group (about 25 people) took off with an Uros gondolier and a boy who sang songs in several languages ("Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" in English) and then passed his hat around for donations. That wasn't SO bad, but then, in the middle of the lake, the gondolier stopped and told us we had to pay him 5 soles each (about $2) before he'd take us to the next island, where our big boat was waiting for us. Obviously $2 is not a lot of money, but we protested on principle, pointing out that we'd payed for an all-inclusive tour and that no one had told us that we'd have to pay extra for this boat ride. He repeatedly insisted that it was not included and told us he needed the money for maintenance of the boat - but that wasn't very convincing as it was made out the the same reeds as the islands themselves - reeds which grow naturally all around the area. Finally a few people paid; most of us refused, but he gave up and took us back to our boat and our guide. More arguing ensued and most of us ended up paying (though NO ONE in our group - English or Spanish speakers - had heard what our guide claimed he told us about the extra fee). Later, back in Puno, we complained to the people we'd booked our tour with, but I doubt it did much good. It's just so frustrating to know that they probably do the same thing day after day, souring an otherwise lovely tour of Lake Titicaca.

Next up was Amantani Island, where we spent the night with a local host family. Our rooms were basic; there was no electricity and we had to bucket-flush the toilet, but the food was good and the beds were comfortable enough and we really enjoyed the stay. The afternoon we arrived, we hiked to Pachatata, one of the island's high points. The views were stunning and while the high altitude (Lake Titicac is at 12,500 feet) made the walk a bit challenging, we really enjoyed it. It was so good, in fact, that Kirsten, Eric and I got up at 5:00 the next morning to walk up to Pachamama, the island's other high point, before breakfast.

After breakfast, we boarded the boat again and headed for Tequile Island, where we walked around a bit and ate a really tasty fish lunch. From there it was back on the boat to Puno.

We flew back to Lima the next morning. Kirsten and I had our return flight to Atlanta late that same night, but we managed to see more of the city in the meantime, including the Lima Zoo. Highlights there were the condors and - after literally hours of searching and finally encountering a friendly zookeeper who took us behind the cages after they were technically closed for the day - a couple of beautiful pumas.

And now, Peru in pictures:

Peru

Spring Snow

2010-03-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

I know it's not technically spring yet, but it's been warm here in Seoul and I've been thinking that soon it will be cherry blossom time. Not yet, I guess! This is what the trees on campus looked like today.

Cusco and Machu Picchu

2010-02-21T21:07:00.000-08:00

Kirsten and I flew from Lima to Cusco, one-time power center of the Inca empire and currently the hub of Machu Picchu tourism. With its clean air, imposing churches, whitewashed homes built on Inca stone foundations, and quaint squares, Cusco is a definite step up from the capital.

We toured a couple of good museums in Cusco (lots of Inca artifacts, as well as some from other native tribes), walked through the central market (vegetables, flowers, housewares, and a meat section that made me briefly consider becoming a vegetarian for the remainder of our trip), and wandered around the streets and alleys, all the while adjusting to the altitude of 11,000 feet.

Our second day in Cusco, we met our travel partners. In one of many trip-planning e-mails, Kirsten told me that her coworker's brother and his friend were thinking about traveling in Peru, and that she'd invited them to join us if the timing worked out. She added something like, "I hope you don't mind, and don't worry; if they turn out to be tools, we can just tell them we want to do our own thing." As we got to know Jeremy and Eric, we were happy to learn that they are not tools; they're both fun and easy-going and we were glad to have them along (and not merely for Eric's pharmaceutical knowledge and supply of medicine, which came in handy when Kirsten got sick on the way to Machu Picchu).

The day after they arrived, we were off on our four-day bike/hike to Machu Picchu. We started out in a minivan that picked us up an hour late, stopped by a couple of other hotels, and then waited, inexplicably, for about an hour on the side of a Cusco street. Eventually we were on our way out of town and into the beautiful countryside. We made a brief bathroom/shopping stop, and soon after that started going up (and up and up) some switchbacks that didn't agree with Jeremy's stomach.

We got out of the van at about noon and climbed on our mountain bikes to begin a descent of just over 10,000 feet. Soon after we started, Jeremy turned to Eric to tell him that his stomach troubles had subsided and that he was feeling the best he had all day. Immediately after that he veered into the cement ditch, tearing some skin off his elbow but otherwise unhurt. The ride was easy in that it was downhill, but not long after we started it began to rain - lightly at first, and then a downpour. Then heavy fog rolled in, making me more than a little nervous about the buses and trucks that were speeding up the same switchbacks that we were going down, often in the middle of the road, and sometimes with steep drop-offs on one side. I think later on Eric used the word "exhilarating" to describe the ride. If I had to describe it in one word, it would probably be "terrifying." Or maybe "freezing." We started out at over 14,000 feet, and it was chilly up there, even before the rain. I had a waterproof jacket, but still felt pretty much soaked to the bone from the downpour. Even after the rain lightened up, we ended up with sopping wet socks and boots when we crossed at points like the one below. (Water-proof boots are not so waterproof when the water comes in over the top!) For a while I was shivering and my teeth were chattering; there was a safety van always backing us up, but of course I was too stubborn and proud to give up and ride in it. Thankfully the steep descent meant that it gradually got warmer and warmer, and toward the end of the three-hour ride the rain stopped completely and the sun came out.

We spent that night in a village called Santa Maria. I slept well, but it was a miserable night for Kirsten; it seemed her stomach was not happy with something she had eaten or drunk the day before and she had to make several trips to the bathroom, to a toilet that had no seat and that didn't always flush. Here's where Eric's drug supply came in handy; in the morning she popped some pills, put on a brave face, and insisted that she would be fine - but before long it was clear that she was really in no shape to hike. The first part of our route that day was along a dirt road, and our guide was able to flag down a taxi/bus passing by to take Kirsten to Santa Teresa, where we'd spend our second night. Soon after she got in the car, the rest of us turned off the road and onto an Inca trail. Not THE Inca Trail, mind you (it's necessary to book that 9 months - 1 year in advance), but a section of the many, many miles of trail network that has survived since Inca times.

Day three was less eventful. Kirsten was still running at much less than 100%, and she didn't manage to keep her breakfast down, but she did soldier on and survived the day's hike. The walk that day was mostly level, making it much easier than the hills we'd covered on the previous day. The last two hours or so we were walking along railroad tracks, which was too bad because in looking down to be sure we didn't stumble on stones or railroad ties, it was hard to fully appreciate the spectacular scenery that was surrounding us.

By mid-afternoon we had checked into our hotel in Aguas Calientes (which, incidentally, featured a roaring river directly below our windows, one which later caused some of the damage I mentioned in my previous post). After hot showers (the first in three days!), we wandered around town a bit. In one of the town squares, we saw a Swiss guy named Frederic that had been on our van the first morning and whom we'd since seen several times along the path, always alone. We invited him to join us for a beer; he accepted, and the fact that he doesn't speak much English and none of us speaks French made for some entertaining conversation. Just one example: before Peru, Frederic had been traveling in Bolivia (which of course, I am now dying to visit.). He was trying to tell us something about a market in La Paz, but when we weren't getting it, he stood up and tried body language. Motions which we later realized were meant to be a witch riding a broomstick looked - well, sort of lewd. His Spanish was better than his English, so at some points Kirsten translated; when she repeated Jeremy's guess of "sex market?" in response to that obscure body language, the Swiss guy turned red and quickly waved his hands and shook his head in protest saying, "no, no, no - not me!" We never did figure out what the witch had to do with the La Paz market, but we did all got a good laugh out of it.

We woke up before dawn on day four to wait for the first bus from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu. The line was long, even at 5 am, and it was raining; once again I was wet and cold (and, to be honest, a little grumpy; it didn't help that this all took place without my usual morning coffee). We waited for about half an hour, rode the bus for twenty minutes, and then stood in a long line again at the ticket booth. Our first views of the ruins were shrouded in fog, but nonetheless incredible; all that waiting had paid off! Soon the sun came out, my caffeine kicked in (still no coffee, but Diet Coke will do in a pinch), and we commenced a day of wandering around the ruins, first with a guide and then continuing on our own. Jeremy ended up taking another spill that afternoon - slipping on a wet rock, breaking his camera, scraping his hand, and badly bruising his shoulder. I can't speak for him or for Kirsten, but I'm pretty sure they'd both agree that the chance to see Machu Picchu was well worth not only the morning wait in the rain, but also the cuts and bruises, the time spent in rather unpleasant bathrooms and some grueling moments along the trail.

I'll post a captioned photo album soon, but here's a preview: our first, foggy view of the ruins, and then the same view later in the sunshine.

News from Peru & Day One

2010-02-04T00:26:00.000-08:00

Before I get to my own trip, I want to say a bit about what's happened in Peru in the few weeks since I was there. You've most likely heard about the intense rains and the landslides and the tourists who had to be evacuated from Aguas Calientes (a.k.a. Machu Picchu Pueblo), but here's a quick recap anyway. Machu Picchu itself is high on a mountain; there's a swanky, $1,000/night lodge up there, but most people stay in Aguas Calientes, a village of hotels, restaurants, and souvenir shops which is in a valley below the ruins. Only official shuttle buses make the 20-minute trip between the two; the photo below shows Machu Picchu and just a few of the many switchbacks on the road down to Aguas Calientes.

There are only two ways into (and out of) Aguas Calientes: on foot or by train; tourists got stuck there a couple of weeks ago when a landslide took out a portion of the railway. The first news I read basically just said that tourists were trapped there until the weather cleared and they could be helicoptered out; I thought "ok, so a bit of inconvenience and extra expense, but that's not so bad." Then I read that Machu Picchu would be closed for a short period and I thought, "ooh, that is bad." I can't imagine how disappointing it would be to get all the way to Peru - or even to Aguas Calientes, as some hikers did - and then to miss out on the highlight of the whole trip! The other night I searched for the latest on what was happening and was surprised and saddened to read that a couple of hikers and one guide had been killed (by falling rocks and in a tent washed away overnight) along the Inca Trail. Reports now are that Machu Picchu might be closed for weeks or even months, which will be a real blow to the economy in an area that relies heavily on tourism. Many Peruvians have lost their homes or their crops.

So, I'm a bit sobered as I reflect on the time I spent in Peru. We had some of the usual travel frustrations, like waiting for luggage and for people; we also got DRENCHED (it is rainy season, after all) and had to do some of our hiking in wet socks and boots. I got some extremely itchy bug bites (but only a few of them; one of the guys traveling with us was covered from foot to knee), and there were also a couple of disputes with our tour guides as to what we had or had not paid for in advance. The recent news from Peru has helped me to put those issues in perspective, though, and has made me truly thankful for safety and for such an enjoyable experience in the beautiful country of Peru.

Ok, now to day one of our trip. Lima is one of those cities that you visit out of necessity because it happens to be home to the nation's major international airport; we ended up spending two days there (one at each end of the trip). It's by no means the most exciting place I've ever been, but we did find plenty to keep us occupied. We also had really good food, and that always helps!

On our first day, my cousin Kirsten and I walked and walked and walked around the city. We started out wandering around central Lima, where we marveled at the intricately carved wooden balconies and inhaled the wafting scents of barbecue and soaked up the warmth of the sun, and where we toured the Iglesia de San Francisco, pictured below. In the catacombs beneath the church, the bones of people buried there are arranged in rather macabre displays. We weren't allowed to take photos, but you can see one here.

After the catacombs tour we found a simple basement restaurant that served heaping portions of some fabulous ceviche (a Peruvian specialty: raw fish soaked in a lime marinade). Our plan for the afternoon was to tour a couple of museums, but all three that we tried to visit were closed - one for renovation and the others, presumably, for the New Year holiday. The three museums were sort of spread out around the city, which was one reason for all the walking we did. To be honest, though, we also had a bit of trouble reading our maps.

In the evening, we walked and walked and walked some more. Suffice it to say that we had a little trouble with the map again - but we did eventually make it (after asking some friendly locals for directions and then taking a bus) to Miraflores, a Lima suburb on the coast. We had dinner there in a restaurant recommended in our guide book and then, to celebrate New Year's Eve, sat at an outdoor table overlooking the Pacific and sipped fruity pisco (sort of like Peruvian tequila) cocktails. We actually finished our drinks and headed back to our quiet colonial house-turned-hotel before 12:00, but were still awake when the fireworks went off at midnight - and continued for a considerable time after that.

I'd like to make it clear that Kirsten and I are not getting too old to stay up on New Year's Eve or anything; it's just that we had to get up early the next day for our flight to Cusco.

And have I mentioned that we'd been walking pretty much all day?

Beyond the Sky and the Earth

2010-01-23T21:14:00.000-08:00

So it's a new year, and once again I've resolved to blog here more consistently. I always appreciate comments on or about the blog, but I'm not that concerned, really, with how many people read these posts. I just know that the details fade fast, and that if I don't make a written record of my travels and of my life in Seoul now, the memories will be fuzzy later.

My blogging resolution was reinforced by a book I just finished - and actually this post will be sort of a report on that book rather than a description of my latest journey (an amazing trip to Peru, which I WILL write about soon; the picture above, from Lake Titicaca, is a preview). Beyond the Sky and the Earth is the memoirs of a Canadian teacher's three years in the tiny Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan. (Thanks to my high school friends Sarah and Sarah for recommending the book!) I loved it for several reasons; one is simply the fact that Jamie Zeppa's descriptions of Bhutan - of the mountains and the complete quiet and dark that you can feel in a Himalayan village, of the people and their warm curiosity, of nerve-racking rides in buses, loaded with people and chickens and tubs of kerosene, that lurch and sway over narrow clearings through recent landslides with long, steep drops below - brought back such vivid memories of my trips to Nepal, which are, hands-down, the best I've ever taken.

Mostly, though, I loved it because she articulated so many of the sentiments that I've experienced in my expat life, especially during my two years in Armenia. She explains the oddity of longing (and I really don't think it's an exaggerated use of that word) for a bagel, then returning "home" and eating one, only to find herself craving the simple foods she ate day after day in Bhutan (or, in my case, Armenia: salty homemade cheese and fresh bread and tiny cups of sweet Turkish coffee).

She explains how overwhelming it is to return to North America and be confronted with the sheer amount of stuff that people have, and with the number of choices there are in the cereal aisle. And how it suddenly seems so wasteful to see so many cars each carrying but one person down the road.

She explains how, when people ask what Bhutan is like, she always seems to say too much or too little, and to walk away from those conversations feeling like the other party doesn't really get it. That just happened to me in Peru, actually. Somehow it came up that Nepal tops my list of been-to destinations, and I tried to explain why I found it so magical. Even though I was talking to other people who share my love for travel, even though we were, at the time of the conversation, traveling in another spectacular, fascinating, mystical place, I'm pretty sure I failed to make them understand.

She explains how hard it is to live in a village where everyone knows everything that you do, even if you have nothing to hide. A co-teacher in Armenia once told me that her daughter had seen me in a store a few months back - and that I had bought markers, and that her daughter had been surprised that I was able to ask for them in Armenian. Harmless stuff, of course, but I sometimes hated the sense that people were watching so closely. Another time, a woman who lived in the building next to mine asked why I burned candles in my apartment. I don't think she suspected a seance or some sort of other odd behavior; she was probably just surprised that I didn't find it wasteful to use candles and electricity at the same time. (Shouldn't the former be saved for a time when the latter went out?) I don't think she had binoculars or anything either, but it did weird me out a little bit that she was peering into my windows that carefully.

So many details like that resonated with me, but I think even people who haven't shared the same sort of experience can probably appreciate the author's explanation of how living in another place can change not only your perspective, but your sense of self and of your place in the world. I think she's absolutely right.

For the record (in case anyone hunts it down based on what I've written here): the book's ending is disappointing. Nevertheless, it's a good read. It's a good explanation of what makes traveling so awesome, and a good reminder to me that someday when I'm reminiscing, my travel memories will be much more vivid if I have a record of them in writing.

The Philippines, part II

2009-11-20T07:59:00.000-08:00

After a six-month hiatus, I've resolved to get back to blogging! Way back when I wrote about Manila, but I never posted about the rest of my trip to the Philippines in February. Finally, here is the second installment.

My cousin Kirsten and I spent most of our time together in the Philippines in the Cordillera mountain range, which is north of Manila on North Luzon Island. We started out from Manila on an overnight bus to the sprawling highland city of Baguio. That wasn't our original plan (it changed because I bought our bus tickets based on the erroneous advice of our hotel owner), but actually I think the revised itinerary was probably better anyway.

We arrived in Bagiou EARLY in the morning at a clean, new bus station. We had a cup of coffee there and waited for the sun to come up, then hopped in a cab to get to the bus station where we'd transfer to Sagada, which became our destination after plan A fell through. We booked tickets for an 8:30 bus, which gave us time to hit an ATM and look for breakfast. It didn't take too much wandering to find a small bakery/cafe where we had good pastries and decent coffee; we also picked up sandwiches to eat on the way to Sagada.

That was a long, bumpy, dusty bus ride, but the views were breathtaking. Kirsten and I ended up in the very back row of seats, bouncing and sliding all over the place and feeling grumpy because an older couple (not sure what nationality, but they looked to be former hippies) were in our assigned seats and didn't seem eager to move when we boarded and pointed that out.

My guidebook describes Sagada as "a tranquil mountaintop town where you can walk down the middle of the road and only occasionally be disturbed by a passing vehicle." After Manila and then a night and a day on buses, we were looking forward to that tranquility - so it was a bit disappointing when we finally arrived to discover busloads of domestic tourists there for the town festival. It turned out to be fun though, and we arrived on the last day - so we were able to experience the festive market atmosphere and then the town as its usual tranquil self.

We did some leisurely hiking around Sagada, first with a guide, who showed us hanging coffins and a burial cave outside the town, and then on our own to a small waterfall nearby. Our map to the waterfall was not so good; we ended up doing some backtracking and along the way we ran into a Spanish girl who was also trying to find it. We teamed up and eventually got there. The nights in Sagada were COLD, but it was warm and sunny that afternoon - perfect for a dip in the pool at the bottom of the falls.

From Sagada we took a packed jeepney to Bontoc, the nearest sizable town. We had to kill a couple of hours there before the next leg of our trip to Banaue, so we checked out the Bontoc Museum, which has fascinating exhibits on the local tribes - including their history as headhunters.

In Banaue we arranged a guide to take us on an overnight hike to Batad, which is the highlight of the Cordillera region. Throughout the area there are rice terraces built 2,000 years ago by the Ifugao tribes in the area; Batad's terraces are considered to be some of the most spectacular. It rained a bit, but aside from that it was a great hike. Our guide was friendly and knowledgeable, the overnight stay in Batad was rustic but interesting, and the views all along the way were simply stunning.

I took far too many pictures of the views, but I tried to be ruthless in editing them, deleting more than two thirds of the pictures that were originally in this album. If you're interested in a tour of Manila, a tug-of-war contest at the Sagada festival, those hanging coffins and yes, a few pictures of the rice terraces, click on the album below:

Philippines

DPRK - Part II

2009-05-12T02:02:00.000-07:00

Our lunch on the Kaesong tour included many separate dishes, as you can see. It was mostly vegetables and rice, which I found disappointing at first considering how much we'd paid for the tour. Almost immediately after that thought crossed my mind though, I felt pretty guilty; I'm sure there are many North Koreans who would have been thrilled to eat that meal. I had also felt a bit guilty earlier in the day when our tour guide told us that the average N. Korean earns $60/month, much less than I had paid to take this one-day tour to Kaesong. Living in Armenia and traveling in developing nations has certainly opened my eyes to the disparity of wealth in the world and taught me to be much more appreciative of my material blessings, but soon after a trip ends and I'm back into my comfortable routine, I start to take them for granted again. Those pangs of guilt in North Korea made me think that there's definitely truth in that old saying "out of sight, out of mind."

Outside the restaurant we were able to wander around a bit; not too far, of course, but we did get a glimpse of the city. Note the traffic cop standing in the middle of the intersection, despite the complete lack of traffic. All the people on the near side of him in the photo were part of our group. He looked and acted like a traffic officer, but perhaps he's actually more of a border guard whose role is to be sure that tourists and locals do not cross into the same territory at any given time?

After lunch we visited Koryo scholar Jung Mong-ju's home-turned lecture hall. It was literally around the corner from the restaurant, but we weren't allowed to walk to it. To make absolutely certain that there would be no interaction between us and the citizens of Kaesong, we had to board our buses for the short journey. Apparently sites in the city have different opening hours for outside tourists and for locals, or maybe the locals don't go to them at all. I don't know. In the morning we'd also wondered how they manage to keep locals away from the waterfall while tourists are present, but as it was out in the country and the average North Korean doesn't have a car, I suppose it wouldn't be easy to get there. You could bike to it maybe, but then presumably you'd have to somehow sneak past all of those soldiers placed strategically along the way.

From the lecture hall, we boarded the buses again for a trip across town to a stone bridge where that same scholar was assassinated by the son of the Choseon Dynasty founder in 1392; Jung Mong-ju was "the last loyal retainer of the Koryo Dynasty," whatever that means. Basically a loyal follower of the king, I guess?

The view from the bus windows as we drove through town was actually the most interesting part of the day for me. It seemed like that was our only glimpse into anything close to the "real" North Korea. People were going about their daily business, most of them looking surprisingly content: young women walking arm in arm, boys playing soccer and volleyball, girls in school uniforms riding their bikes, kids splashing in a small stream. We also saw elderly citizens watching from their apartment windows as our bus caravan passed by, and when I saw them, I felt guilty again. Honestly, it felt a bit as if we had come to watch animals in a zoo, except that these "caged" people are of course more capable than lions or zebras of analyzing the outsiders that have come to visit. I wondered if they wonder why it is that we can come to Kaesong, but they can never cross the border, and actually probably can't even visit the capital city in their own country. I wondered if they notice that foreign tourists are colorfully, comfortably, diversely dressed, and that we all carry digital cameras (no cell phones or i-pods, though; those had to be left behind in the South). I wondered if they can even imagine what it's like to be able to read any newspaper you'd like or to worship in any place you choose or to freely discuss any thoughts you have about politics. I wondered if they really believe all the propaganda their government feeds them, and whether they're told anything about the tourists that visit Kaesong. Maybe that we come as actors that try to make the South and its Western allies look rich, but that we are actually miserable in our capitalistic societies, slaves to material possessions? Ok, there may be a grain of truth in that last bit, but you get my point.

Our final stop was the Koryo Museum, a collection of Koryo Dynasty relics housed in a former university. Our guides claimed it was the oldest university in the world, but an Italian on the bus begged to differ with that. The items on display were not particularly impressive, but the setting was beautiful - much more peaceful and colorful than the way I'd always imagined North Korea to be. I was also struck by the similarity of the buildings with so many that I've seen in South Korea - again, a reminder that though I think of them as so absolutely separate, the two nations have centuries of shared history.

Before we could cross back into the South, all of our cameras were inspected. I was allowed to keep all of my photos, but the guard who checked my friend Anna's camera zoomed in on one photo that apparently had a tiny soldier in the background. He deleted it.

I experienced an interesting mix of emotions as we crossed the border on our way home. I hadn't really been worried that anything would go wrong, so I was surprised to feel a sense of relief. Mostly though, I felt sad. In a way it was good to have seen the people in Kaesong living such normal lives - at least on the surface. But how normal can life really be when your freedoms are so curtailed?

As I write this now, months after returning from Kaesong, I'm struck again by how quickly I forget. I live less than 50 miles from the border, and yet I rarely think about the people on the other side. How is it that's what out of sight is also so easily put out of mind?

DPRK - Part I

2009-04-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

I still intend to write more about the Philippines, and the hyper-organized (if always a bit behind) side of me wants to finish those entries in uninterrupted sequence. But with North Korea in the news so much recently, I'm reminded that I never wrote about my day trip there last fall. This blog is the only form of travel journaling that I do, so I'm thinking I'd better get those memories down on paper, as it were, before they become too blurry.

Many people were surprised when they heard that I was going to North Korea since the common perception is that Americans are not allowed to travel there. It's certainly true that we can't travel independently in the DPRK, but until recently there were two fairly easy ways to tour limited sections of that enigmatic nation.

The first way was a tour to Keumgang Mountain, which a couple of my friends did last year. That tour was especially popular with South Koreans, who love to hike and to soak at the bathhouse - which is pretty much the extent of what you could do at Keumgang. Tourists were strictly controlled and they stayed/ate/shopped in a sort of South Korean bubble, a hotel complex complete with convenience store chains from the capitalistic South. Keumgang tours were suspended last year after a middle-aged South Korean woman was shot and killed by North Korean soldiers. She had strayed beyond the limits of the compound on an early morning walk and ignored repeated warnings to turn back.

The second option was to take a day tour to Kaesong, which was the capital of Korea's Koryeo dynasty (918 - 1392, which preceded the Choseon dynasty, during which the capital was moved to Seoul. Obviously for my entire lifetime Korea has been a divided nation, so it's easy to forget that the North and the South have so many centuries of shared history.) Kaesong is the city I visited last fall - just in time, because those tours have also since been suspended by the North. There was no drama in this case - simply, it seems, someone in the DPRK wanting to prove their power to control people, even if it's for nothing else than to close the border to would-be tourists.

Apparently the North was also trying to prove its upper hand the day of our tour. After we'd gone through an early-morning security check on the South side of the DMZ - and after we'd been reminded again and again to leave ALL printed matter in lockers on the South side, reminded again and again that only digital cameras were allowed, reminded again and again that we should NOT mention the name of the leaders of South or North Korea at any time, etc., etc. - we sat in the parking lot and waited. A phone call needs to go through to the North before any tour buses can cross the border, and it seems the phone operator on the other side was refusing to pick up - a practice which our guide told us this was not unusual. Eventually someone did answer, and we were on our way.

The DPRK refuses to recognize the ROK as a legitimate nation, so ironically we used U.S. dollars instead of Korean won for all of our purchases on the tour. Of course a renegade pseudo-government is not an entity that can license vehicles either; hence the covered plates you can see on our South Korean buses here.

Our first stop was Pakyon waterfall. I've seen bigger, more impressive falls, but it was definitely a pleasant spot to wander around for a morning. The drive to the falls was picturesque too, the fields and forest scenery punctuated every kilometer or so with a DPRK soldier. Some of them were standing in the middle of unpaved roads, some outside villages houses, and some in the middle of fields; all of them were standing straight and tall under the warm autumn sun. They were motionless until the last vehicle in our motorcade passed; at that point they executed a crisp salute. I'd insert a picture of one of those soldiers here, except that of course we were told again and again that under no circumstances were we to take photos of any military personnel - or, for that matter, of any North Koreans whatsoever. It would have been pretty easy to snap a photo from inside the bus, but ALL cameras are inspected on the way out of the country, and any photos which the border control disapproves of are deleted without apology. I'm not sure if there could also be further repercussions for taking forbidden photos, but I certainly wasn't going to try to find that out firsthand.

Time for a break - lunch on the tour day, and from blogging for now. Part II is coming soon - promise! And then back to the Philippines.

Manila

2009-03-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

Manila is, as I was told to expect, hot and dirty and crowded. The air is quite possibly the most polluted I've ever inhaled; it's worse than Bangkok and Beijing, even. I'd also been warned that everyone would be out to scam me, especially taxi drivers. It's probably better to arrive somewhere with low expectations and be pleasantly surprised than to be careless and unaware, but unfortunately that meant that I was a bit paranoid at first; it took me a while to sort of get used to the city and relax and enjoy it. I really hate to be suspicious of chatty strangers and taxi drivers and of the people surrounding me on crowded buses or subways, but that's how I found myself feeling. I hope none of them noticed when I clutched my backpack (worn in front, of course, so that I could keep my eye on it) a bit closer or checked to be sure my camera strap was wrapped tightly around my wrist, because I think the chatty ones were genuinely friendly and interested in talking to an American and my fellow passengers were just going about their normal business without thinking twice about my presence! For the record, no taxi drivers did scam us - though a couple started out asking for exorbitant fares. We always insisted on them using the meter, and all of them were quick to do so once we asked.

There isn't really that much to see in Manila; it's mostly a conglomeration of various residential areas, many of them (as in the photo above) very poor. There are a couple of somewhat nicer areas, and also a (relatively) sparkly, new business/shopping district called Makati. I wandered around Chinatown and a market area the day before Kirsten arrived; while not particularly attractive, the street scenes in those places were colorful and the food good! Here's a street sign from Chinatown:

Kirsten's first day in the city we attended church in the morning, then walked through Intramuros (what's left of the colonial section of the city), which we both found quite shabby and a bit disappointing. We also toured an old fortress and then people-watched in giant Rizal Park, where kids were flying kites, musical groups were performing on a festival stage, and martial art students were practicing their moves. These kids in the park wanted us to take their picture:

We'd been advised - rightly so, I think - to spend as little time as possible in Manila. After coordinating bus schedules to match our flights though, we ended up with another day in the city at the end of our trip. We visited a really great museum in Makati that morning, did a bit of shopping, splurged on Haagen Dazs, and then visited a small spa. Kirsten treated herself to a massage and me to a facial, which was lovely. We finished off the day with mango margaritas a sidewalk table in Malate, Manila's main backpacker district. As we sipped our drinks and watched the traffic go by - bikes, cars, pedestrians, peanut and mango sellers pushing their large carts - we both agreed that the city, or at least that small part of it, does have a certain charm. Still, I'd give other travelers the same advice that I received: while Manila might not be as bad as people say, time in the Philippines could much better be spent exploring the beautiful parts of the country outside the capital.

Culinary adventure in the Philippines

2009-02-20T04:21:00.000-08:00

I'm still trying to organize the hundreds of photos I took in the Philippines and to get my reflections of the trip down in writing. In the meantime, here's a quick update on some of the more adventurous eating I did there.

First up: barbecued chicken intestines. They were actually not bad!

And slightly more adventurous: tamilok, a worm that lives in mangrove trees. Locals eat them right off the tree; ours were dead and had their insides cleaned out, but served raw. We dipped them in vinegar and squeezed calamansi (similar to lime) juice on them before eating. They have a bit of a seafood flavor, but mostly I just thought they tasted like dirt.

With the exception of tamilok, I liked most of the food in the Philippines. Best of all: the fruit, especially mangoes. The tart green ones are good (hold the salt, thanks), and the sweet yellow ones are even better!

Bergen and Hardangerfjord

2009-01-22T04:41:00.000-08:00

Bergen is a sleepy town on the west coast of Norway, once an important link in the Hanseatic League. These days tourists - many arriving on cruise ships - wander its quaint streets and use it as a base for fjord tours. The Bryggen district along the waterfront (pictured above) is charming, the food at the Fish Market is t-a-s-t-y, and the views from the hill above the city are beautiful, which all made for a pleasant two days' stay.

I hope this next bit doesn't make me sound jaded, but I was actually a bit disappointed with my Bergen-based tour of Hardangerfjord. I really had no idea how beautiful Jotunheimen would be, so the scenery there floored me; my coastal experience was the opposite. Since Norway is so well known for its fjords, I had high expectations. I thought I'd see something akin to New Zealand's Milford Sound, a fjord that I recall being much more spectacular than those I saw in Norway. Still, if not as stunning or dramatic as I'd imagined, Hardangerfjord really is a pretty place - as you can see from the photo above and from more pictures in this album:

Bergen and the fjords

Jotunheimen in numbers

2009-01-08T08:31:00.000-08:00

12: number of people in our group. There were eight Norwegian women, six of whom are hometown friends that have taken a hiking trip together every summer for the last nine years. All eight of the Norwegians were well equipped and quick to proclaim the wonders of wool socks and underwear - which are, by the way, pretty amazing. There was a German, who often hikes in the Alps and hopes to scale Mont Blanc next summer; she repeatedly said that she was "speechless" about how far we were walking each day. The others were a Swedish med student, a British-Indian-originally-from-Kenya businessman, and me. A fun group!

7-10: slices of bread that I ate every day. I'm not kidding - and these were not lightweight wonderbread slices, but good, thick, real bread. Our cabins had great continental breakfasts, the contents of which we also used to make sandwiches (all open-faced, Norwegian style) for our lunches. There were no plastic bags; Norwegians put a small piece of butcher paper between each "sandwich," and then wrap them all up in a bigger piece of butcher paper. There were all sorts of yummy toppings, like salmon and good cheese. We also had some unusual-but-still-good options like reindeer pate'. And brown cheese, which is apparently unique to Norway. It's sort of molassesy sweet; my Dutch friends said they don't like it, but I thought it was pretty good!

90: number of kilometers hiked in four days (56 miles)

60-something: age of our excellent guide, Jarle. If I recall correctly he had over 30 pounds of equipment in his backpack - his own gear, plus a survival kit in case one of us would have to be left behind. Even with all that weight, he hurried ahead, sometimes running, as we neared our cabins each afternoon/evening to be sure that everything was ready for us when we arrived.

40-50: centimeters of snow that Jarle estimated were on top of Glittertind, the second mountain that we climbed. (15-20 inches)

0: amazingly, the number of blisters I had. I was stiff and sore in all sorts of other ways, but thankful not to have blisters!

Jotunheimen in pictures: click on the album below for a photo journal of the trip.

jotunheimen

Oslo

2008-11-07T01:52:00.000-08:00

My third stop this summer was Oslo. (Yes, I know: it's November and I'm still writing about my summer travels. One of these days I'll catch up!) I added Norway to my itinerary once I learned that my Dutch friend Lucia is living in Oslo with her family. I haven't been back to Holland since I spent a semester in Amsterdam in 1996, and when I contacted Lucia I was thinking it would be fun to reconnect with her there. (It had been a while since we were last in touch - I thought she still lived in Rotterdam!) Removing the Netherlands from my travel plans was a little disappointing, but the chance to visit Norway instead more than compensated!

I really, really liked Oslo. Lucia and her husband were great hosts, and catching up with her and getting to know her family was definitely a highlight of my time there. I also enjoyed all the sites that the city has to offer. There are a number of great musuems, including The National Gallery (where I saw The Scream - stolen twice in the last couple of decades, but now back in place, displayed safely behind a thick glasss case and carefully watched by museum guards), the Viking ship museum, Nobel Peace Prize Museum, Norwegian Folk museum - all very different, and all well worth visiting.

The coffee shops were great, too. They say Norwegians drink more coffee per capita than any other people on earth - reading that made me fall in love with the place before I even got there. As many of you know, I love bread and sweets as much as I love coffee - baked goods abounded in Norway too, and they were very, very good. Most mornings Lucia and I walked together to drop her son off at pre-school, then sat down to enjoy cake or a pastry and a cup of bitter black goodness. We tried out a different coffee shop each time; here we are with her daughter Filipa at the Grand Cafe, where Henrik Ibsen was once a regular:

After coffee, I usually continued exploring on my own - touring the museums I mentioned above, walking on the waterfront, exploring City Hall, where the Peace Prize is awarded, walking through parks and the grounds of the Royal Palace - and just wandering the streets, enjoying the atmosphere of this beautiful city. One of those mornings I toured with Lucia's friend Esther; I met her 12 years ago when we all went to Paris together for a weekend, but I hadn't seen or been in contact with her since then. She was visiting Lucia the week before I arrived, and our time in Oslo overlapped by one day. It really is a small world!

A couple of evenings I went running with Lucia and one of her German friends in Vigeland Park; as we jogged, I leared a lot about Norwegian barnehage (sort of a national pre-school system, which is apparently where Norwegians begin learning to be so tough! Look for more on Norwegian toughness when I get to my next post.). I also got lots of insight into the many decisions facing parents who are raising their children abroad, especially regarding language and education. Other evenings we relaxed at home, chatting and watching the Olympics with Lucia's husband, Pim.

If you're interested in more photos from the city, click on the album below:

Oslo

Warsaw revisited

2008-10-26T01:58:00.000-07:00

I visited Warsaw in 1996, so when I began planning my summer travels this year I was hoping to meet Nathaniel in a new place rather than return to a city I'd already seen. Between his work schedule and the proximity and timing of my other stops in Europe though, it worked out best for me to visit him there - and I'm glad I did!

I took the train from Vilnius to Warsaw, a pleasant all-day journey that took me past green farmland and forests - lots of birch and evergreens, kind of the way I picture the scenery in a Tolstoy novel. I changed trains at the border, and on the second leg I talked quite a bit with a friendly Dutch couple sitting next to me. When we got closer to Warsaw they asked if I'd booked a hostel; they were hoping to find one when they arrived and wondered if I had any recommendations. I told them I was staying with my cousin, but that he'd be meeting me at the train station and would surely be able to steer them in the right direction. He did recommend several hostels, pointing them out on their map, and also gave them his card just in case - and about an hour later they called and ended up sleeping on his couch since those places were all fully booked.

I actually don't remember much of Warsaw from 12 years ago; I think then I actually spent more of my time in Poland in Krakow and Gdansk than I did in the capital city. From what I do remember, I can definitely say that Nathaniel has moved up in the accomodation world; he's got a classy, newly remodeled apartment in the center of the city, which the Dutch couple and I were really impressed with. He's got a cleaning lady now, too. Back in '96 I slept on a broken hide-a-bed (which I think was actually his only bed; Nate slept on the floor, so I can't complain!), and bathed in a rather dirty bathtub, as I recall.

This time around, I spent lots of time wandering the streets of Old Town, stopping in churches and shops and enjoying coffee and pastries in outdoor cafes. I visited the new Uprising Museum, which tells the inspiring but sad story of a futile Polish rebellion against Nazi forces during WWII. Also on my itinerary: a tour of the Historical Museum of Warsaw, a walk through the remains of the Warsaw Ghetto, and a visit to the Jewish Historical Institute - which documents the history and culture of Polish Jews, focusing especially on what life was like in the ghetto. It was a sobering and depressing but very worthwhile history lesson.

Those sites were all worth going back for, but in addition to that I think this time I also enjoyed just getting a better feel for the city. There are certainly other places I'd like to visit first, but Warsaw is an interesting, underrated place that definitely deserves at least one visit - if not a second or even a third!

If you're interested in photos of Warsaw, just click on the album below:

Warsaw

Vilnius II

2008-09-22T04:55:00.000-07:00

My plan was to write more about Vilnius, but at this rate I'll be off on my next trip before I finish writing about the last one. Here's a slide show of Vilnius pics instead; you can click on it to link to the album and read the captions. Next up: Warsaw!

First stop: Vilnius

2008-09-09T00:47:00.000-07:00

I've been back in Seoul for two weeks now, so I guess it's about time I post something about my summer travels! I'd blame the delay on being jet-lagged or busy (which I was and I am), but the real problem is that I just don't know where to start! It was a fantastic trip and I think I'll find it hard to be succinct and articulate as I try to get it all down in writing. Anyway, here goes:

I flew from Seoul (via Helsinki) to Vilnius, Lithuania. My cousin Al(ex) and his family live there, so the primary reason for that stop was to visit them. Of course I'm always up for seeing a new part of the world too, though - especially a part, like Vilnius, that has beautiful baroque architecture and an interesting history!

It had been a couple of years since I last saw Alex and even longer since I had last seen Rachel, Leandra, and Andrew - and I had never met Rebekah! The three kids are all really sweet, and it was fun to reconnect with the whole family over yummy homemade meals and games of Balderdash and Bananagrams. I also got to join in the celebration of Rebekah's 4th birthday, which was fun.

At that party and at their church I had the chance to talk with some of Alex and Rachel's Lithuanian friends. Meeting local people is one of the best parts of traveling, but with the exception of taxi drivers and tour guides that doesn't always happen. When I'm in a new place I always visit museums and historical spots, try out the local food and drink, and whenever possible get out into nature - all good, of course - but I find traveling a much more interesting and fulfilling experience when I also get to interact with the people who live in the place I'm visiting.

Since Lithuania is a former Soviet Republic, I seemed to be constantly putting things in the frame of reference of my experience in Armenia. Really, though, the two places are very differnt. After a couple of days I started to realize that it doesn't make much sense to think that after centuries of very distinct and distant histories, a few decades under Soviet rule would turn two very different nations into similar ones.

Nonetheless, the comparisons seemed to continue somewhere in the back of my head. In talking with the locals I did hear a couple of familiar strains, but those probably have more to do with Armenia and Lithuania being small and relatively unknown nations at present than with the fact that they were both part of the USSR. I was told, for example, that Lithuania was once a great empire stretching all the way to the Black Sea, and that Lithuanian just might be the oldest language in Europe - points that I heard over and over again about Armenia and Armenian during my two years there. There were also a few sights that took me back, like some gray, drab apartment blocks and the bus in this picture, which could easily have been taken in Yerevan. (Except that if it were Yerevan, there would probably be potholes in a stretch of road this long and the driver would likely be outside the bus trying to get the electrical connectors back on track. Obviously my visit was limited to the capital city, and mostly to the nicer parts of it at that - but it does certainly feel like things in Lithuania are generally in much better shape than they are in Armenia.)

European architecture is generally a treat, but I think I had a special appreciation for it this time since I was coming from Korea. The temples and palaces and hanok (traditional Korean homes) here are serene and beautiful, but most modern apartment buildings and stores and churches and schools are much more functional than they are pleasing to the eye. I soaked up (and took lots of pictures of!) cobblestone streets and colorful churches like this one:

The gardens and window boxes in Vilnius were lovely, too. Alex says Lithuanians joke that a man needs three wives: a Russian for his love life, a Jew to bear his children, and a Lithuanian to tend his gravesite when he's gone. Those well-tended flowers made even the drab Soviet apartment blocks or run-down houses like this one look somehow charming:

Ooph - I'm not done with Vilnius yet and I feel like I've barely scratched the surface on the trip as a whole - but right now I need to finish preparing for class tomorrow. Check back soon for the rest of this story and for the next stop, Warsaw!

Barbaric Yawp

2008-07-22T19:40:00.000-07:00

Koreans have a hiking tradition that I think is great: letting out the loudest yaaaa-hoooo possible once they reach the top of a peak. Some people have told me it's supposed to be good for relieving stress; I haven't personally tried it, but it seems to me that it just might work!

I live at the base of a mountain, so I occasionally hear those barbaric yawps when I'm running on campus in the morning. Today I went for an early-morning hike instead; I'm going on a 5-day hiking trip in Norway in August, and I want to break in my new hiking shoes (and socks, which are a wool-bamboo blend. Yes, bamboo: it's supposed to keep my feet cool and bacteria-free, I think. Seriously, what will they think of next??). Anyway, as I was coming down hill at the end of my hike this morning, I heard repeated yawps from an adult followed by a child's echo. Eventually I met them on the trail; it was a tiny grandma (her size made the yawp she was producing all the more impressive) and a young girl who looked to be about 8. The girl was doing pretty well until she saw me and was presumably embarrassed, at which point her YAAAHOOOO changed to a much softer yahoo. That prompted her grandmother to provide another example yawp and some encouragement: "Louder! Louder!" The girl's next one after she passed me was better - still not that loud, but a much longer yaaaaahoooooo.

My apologies to those of you who check back here regularly for updates, which have been sporadic of late. I'll be spending most of August in Europe, which will hopefully provide some good fodder for travel blog posts. Just eight days now to Vilnius - YAAAAAHOOOOOO!

B-boys

2008-06-13T05:31:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago some friends and I went to an international b-boy competition in Suwon, a city just south of Seoul. Here's what I learned there:

1. Break-dancing did not die in the 80's. It's alive and well in the b-boy/hip-hop world.
2. B-boy dance teams are not teams, they are crews.
3. Crew names should never end with an 's'.
4. You shouldn't underestimate a crew based on its name. Pokemon, the French crew in this competition, was not as lame or cheesy as I expected. In fact, they were not lame or cheesy at all - they were pretty amazing.
5. B-boy crews hail from surprising countries - like France, and also Russia, Norway, and China.
6. Korea has world-class b-boys.

Ok, so everything I learned at the competition is completely trivial. But it was fun! As is the video below, which shows part of a "battle" between the Gamblerz of Korea the All-Starz of Brazil. Korea is the team - oops, I mean the crew - on the left.

Seoraksan

2008-05-22T18:26:00.001-07:00

Seoraksan

Last weekend a friend and I visited Seoraksan, Korea's most popular national park. Rather than writing an entry here, I've captioned the photos in this web album. Click on the photo above if you want to see/read about the trip!

Buddha's Birthday

2008-05-13T20:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Buddha's birthday (2,500-something this year, I think); it's an official holiday here in South Korea, and also, from what I can gather, in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Macau. That means I technically had the day off, but I spent most of it in my office working on a training manual for our summer teaching interns. In the evening I took a break from that and went with a couple of friends to Bongwonsa, one of Seoul's larger temples, to observe the festivities. Here's what we saw:

Cherry Blossoms

2008-04-11T07:21:00.000-07:00

I took these photos as I walked across campus the other day. The trees are beautiful, aren't they?

For Koreans, the cherry blossoms in this country are bittersweet. The sweet part is obvious; in addition to being so beautiful, they're one of the first delicate signs of spring. Since they were planted by the Japanese, though, they're also reminders of occupation by their neighbors to the east - an occupation recent enough that the resentment is still palpable. I remember my students in China making similar remarks about the cherry trees on Wuhan University's campus. Apparently they're spectacular in spring - but again, with the blossoms comes the memory of a one-time agressive neighbor.

Having spent a total of five days in Japan, compared to months in China and years (in total, almost four now!) here in Korea, my sympathies in this historical conflict obviously lie with the Koreans and the Chinese that I've come to know and love. I'm really not that deeply mired in Asian history though, so when it comes to cherry blossoms I can pretty much just enjoy them for what they are. Hope you'll enjoy these digital versions of them, too!

Home Sweet Home

2008-03-17T13:58:00.000-07:00

From Panama I flew back to the States for three weeks to catch up with family and friends and to finally meet my sweet nephew Will - a meeting which took place in a restroom in the Philly airport (picture above). I'd ducked in there on my way to baggage claim, where I was expecting to see Mom and Heather Michelle and Will; I didn't realize that I was already at a point where non-passengers were free to roam, so I was surprised to see them waiting for me when I came out of the stall! Here's one more picture of us. I'm admittedly biased as his aunt, but don't you think he's got a winning smile?

The people were of course the highlight of my time at home, but it was also nice to drive, and to buy shoes that fit, and to eat a cheese steak. I have to say, though, that it was good to come back to Seoul, too. In many ways this also feels like home; I'm back in my own apartment, back at my job, back with my friends, back at my church, back to my running route on campus, and back to eating Korean food (which is, I'm quite sure, significantly healthier than cheese steaks are).

Much as I love living abroad, being home in February somehow left me feeling a stronger pull to "settle" and be closer to family. (But yikes! I've been so mobile for so long that the thought of settling permanently in one place is a bit overwhelming.) I'm committed to teaching at SNU for another year, and will likely stay at least one semester beyond that since it makes more sense to look for a teaching job in the States beginning in September - but I'm thinking May 2009 might be the time to wrap this Seoul gig up.

We'll see what happens; in the meantime, I'll try to fully appreciate the good in both worlds. I know some people aren't even sure they can call one place home; I'm blessed to be able to feel truly at home both here and there.

Panama in Pictures

2008-03-03T19:59:00.000-08:00

I tried to be ruthless in editing these photos, but I can't bring myself to delete any more! It's still at 91 - perhaps more than some of you would care to browse through - but if you do want to have a look, click here:

panama

Carnaval

2008-02-18T23:19:00.000-08:00

Coming soon: a photo journal of my trip to Panama with Ian (my older brother), Kirsten and Nathaniel (cousins who share my love of travel) and my friend Tara, who's teaching in Panama City this year. In this long-overdue entry I'll focus on Carnaval. This isn't the first time in my travels that I've unintentionally been present for a major festival. I didn't actually plan to be in Latin America for Carnaval, but after coordinating our available dates, that's how the timing worked out - and it sure was a fun bonus!

Ian and Nathaniel had left already, but I had a blast celebrating with Kirsten and Tara; the three of us started by checking out the festivities in Panama City. Just after we had gone through a security gate and started up the long, long street blocked off for the occasion, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see who it was, and a teenage boy with a wide smile said "Welcome to Panama" - and then threw a handful of confetti in my face. That was just the start of what we'd have thrown at, sprayed on, squirted at, and sprinkled on us that evening. It wasn't long till we decided that we should arm ourselves, so we bought some confetti of our own - four small bags for a dollar. Then we continued up the street, stopping at vendors along the way to try kebabs and grilled sausages and plantain chips and popcorn, watching the flame throwers and flame eaters and the little girls in their polleras and the guy lying on a bed of nails, all the while tossing our confetti on our fellow Carnaval-ers. We learned fast that it was best not to target the kids wielding cans of silly string or colored spray foam, which goops and mats when it's squirted in your hair.

That was a fun evening, but not quite as outrageous as I'd always imagined Carnaval to be. The next afternoon Tara and I saw Kirsten off to the airport and then headed to Las Tablas, a town in the Panama interior which is apparently THE place to celebrate Carnaval in Central America. We arrived late in the afternoon, just as all the Carnaval-goers were heading home for a siesta and dinner and a change of clothes before returning to the city center for the parades and other evening festivities. We called Tara's colleague Estavia, who's from that part of Panama and had invited us to stay with her, to let her know that we'd arrived. After about 15 minutes she showed up in her giant SUV and whisked us off to the beach. We went for a quick swim and then ate overlooking the Pacific - tasty grilled fish for me. Then we went to Tara's colleague's daughter's friend's grandparents' house (at least I think I got that right; Tara and I weren't always exactly clear on who was who or on where we were going when), to change and head back down to the square in Las Tablas. We got there about 10:00, and at 10:30 or so the parades started.

Each year in Las Tablas there are two competing Carnaval queens representing two streets in the city; residents are loyal supporters of one, though I'm not sure whether that's based on where they live in the town or if it maybe changes from year to year depending on whether the queen is a friend or neighbor or relative. Twice each day for four days the queens ride around the center of town on elaborate floats - different floats each time, and always wearing different garb. Each queen's float is preceded by another elaborate float with her court, also in costume, and followed by a third float with a vibrant brass and drum band. They can't move very fast becuase the streets are so packed; the crowd kind of makes way as the tractor pulling each float nears, and then the people either cheer or jeer for the queen as she passes. Estavia told us that the opposing side is quick to point out any blunder on the part of one queen or her crew; this year, for example, one queen was seen taking some aspirin and the other camp promptly started working on a song about why her support staff was giving her pills. We stayed out till 2am that night(significantly later than Kirsten and Tara and I had stayed out in Panama City. I'm embarrased to admit how early we went home, but I will say that our cab driver was laughing at us and telling us that we should try an energy drink like Red Bull or some caffeine pills).

The next day we headed back to the center of town for the daytime celebration - Culeco - which is apparently a Panamanian word that's difficult to translate. Estavia explained it as the state of an egg just before it hatches; her daughter translated it as hyper. Now that I've experienced it, I'd say it means something like the most fun I've ever had on a Monday in February. Or maybe the happiest, densest crowd I've ever been a part of - with a Queen's Day celebration in Amsterdam a very close second. Anyway, it was crazy good fun; I've never been to Mardis Gras or to Carnaval in Rio, but I think I now have a sense of what they must be like.

It was a hot sunny day, and several tank trucks filled with river water were parked around the square; people on top were dancing and hosing down the crowds on the streets below. In houses around the square people had strung hoses through their apartments so that they could also send water from their balconies out over the crowds. The queens circled on their floats, and the bands kept everyone's toes tapping and hips swinging and lips smiling as the masses sang along when the tune was familiar and cheered wildly when their queen came past.

We'd been warned about the water, so I didn't have my camera with me for Culeco. Too bad, because we had a great view from Estavia's former math teacher's balcony (at least I think that's whose balcony it was) on the square. I'm not sure if pictures would do it justice, though; I'd read about it and seen pictures before we went, and I'd even been in Las Tablas with Kirsten and Nathaniel and his uncle and aunt earlier in the week to see the floats and other preparations in progress, but I still didn't have a good sense of what it would be like. I think it's one of those things that you really have to experience to fully appreciate, but I hope this at least gives you a general impression of what our time there was like!

December pics

2008-01-08T14:17:00.000-08:00

There's nothing too exciting in this album, but if you'd like a glimpse of what I was up to in December, click here:

december 2007

Christmas in Korea

2007-12-29T13:08:00.000-08:00

In some ways the last month here felt very much like the holiday season at home. Sadly, the most noticeable similarity is all the commercialism - but while the shopping, shopping, shopping side of things can be a bit depressing, I have to admit that I love the decorations and hearing Christmas music in stores! Here are a couple of window displays from Myeong-dong, one of Seoul's prime shopping spots:

Here's another familiar holiday sight: Salvation Army bell-ringers. The differnece: in Korea they bow to you when you make a donation!

I went to a small party/gift exchange at a friend's place on Christmas Eve. There were about ten of us - the perfect number for a game of mafia. That's not very Christmas-y, I suppose, but we had fun with a few rounds of that.

Christmas afternoon there was a huge joint service at my church with people from a number of English ministries here in Seoul participating. Parts of the service ranged from a rap/breakdance version of "Silent Night" (!) to familiar carols sung by an excellent choir from Indonesia. Their final number was "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful;" first their very talented director sang it in Latin - phenomenal. Then the congregation joined in, singing it first in Korean and then in English. The service ended with a sing-a-long Hallelujah Chorus. When they invite people up on stage for that, I'm always torn. I love to sing it, but it's been so long since I actually practiced it in a choir that I really have to focus on the notes; it's hard to fully appreciate the sound of the music when you're doing that. I did join the choir, and even though I had to carefully eye both the score and the conductor, it sounded beautiful!

After the service a few friends came over to my place for dinner. I only have a very small oven, so I cheated and ordered rotisserie chickens for the main course - but I did make mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, cranberry-apple chutney, and an apple pie for dessert. Since my place is so small I don't entertain much here, but it was fun to cook and have guests over for the holiday! Marc brought a Korean friend who had spent a couple of years studying in the States, and he was profusely thankful for the invitation, saying again and again how suprised and happy he was to have an American Christmas in Korea. My friend Seung Hee was also really excited; this was her first "American" Christmas, and several times she commented on how much she enjoyed trying our traditional food and watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special with us.

Their appreciation helped to assuage a mild sense of holiday guilt; I'd been feeling a little selfish after talking to my family during their celebration last week. This was my fifth Christmas overseas, so I'm used to it - but Mom cried a little on the phone, Grandpa said something about hoping I'll settle closer to home one of these days, and talking to Sean and Heather made me a little sorry that I was missing my nephew's first Christmas. I'm in the process of renewing my contract, which means I'll probably be in Seoul for at least another year. Next year, though, I think I'll opt out of teaching winter term courses so that I can be home on December 25th!

Vicissitudinous

2007-12-14T15:58:00.000-08:00

That really is a word; I looked it up as I was grading response papers from my advanced English film class the other day. I knew vicissitude, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen it in its adjective form. My students sometimes get creative with prefixes and suffixes and changing word forms to make different parts of speech, and experimenting like that with known patterns in a foreign language is actually quite a good strategy. It doesn't always work, though, and at first I thought this might have been a case of that creativity gone awry.

I learn a lot from my students - not usually about English, but they are smart people who often come up with insightful comments and give me new perspectives on the issues we discuss in class. That's yet another reason that I love my job!

Please, be welcome

2007-11-13T16:22:00.000-08:00

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, right? Unfortunately, it seems the only words I have time to write these days are comments on my students' papers. Until I find a few spare moments in which to compose my next entry, I've decided to post an occasional picture to let you all know that I'm alive and well - and that I haven't given up on the blog!

I took this photo at Namdaemun Market the other day; it made me smile, and I hope it makes you smile too!

October

2007-11-05T18:30:00.000-08:00

Forgive me for being cliche', but seriously: time flies! Somehow the entire month of October passed without an entry here. The semester is in full swing and I've added a couple of language classes to my routine, so I'm busy but feeling again like my day-to-day activities are not much to blog about. I'll try to seek out some adventures or come up with some profound cultural insights to share with you in the near future; in the meantime, have a look at these pictures from a fall hike on Gwanak Mountain, which is literally right in my backyard.

Some church friends and I did the hike late Saturday afternoon; as you'll see, we had some great views of the city and also made a random discovery of hula hoops hanging from trees. Koreans are very into health and "well-being," and I guess hula-hooping is supposed to be good exercise. I'm not sure how many health benefits it has, but it's certainly not as easy now as I remember it being as a kid!

Gwanaksan

Mongolia pics

2007-09-21T10:52:00.000-07:00

Interested in a photo tour of Mongolia? Click here - and bon voyage!

mongolia

Team Mongolia takes on the Gobi

2007-09-15T15:40:00.000-07:00

After the horse trekking trip, Team Mongolia returned to UB to shower (hot this time - woohooo!), do laundry, and eat some good food. (Have I mentioned fermented mare's milk and cheese curds? Actually, by the third time I drank the mare's milk I kind of started to like it, and we did have some excellent homemade yoghurt in one of the yurts.) In general Mongolian food wasn't that good, but restaruants in UB offered a few decent options such as mutton kebabs. Half of the team also left the country at that point; we saw Pete off at Genghis Khan International Airport (I'm not making that name up!), and later that day brought Team China to the UB train station for their train/bus/train trip back to Wuhan.

The next morning Eric, Glynnis and I were off with a driver and a guide for a six-day tour of the Gobi Desert. Little did we know that most of those six days would be spent bouncing around on bone-jarring "roads" in a rugged Russian jeep. Jaghka, our driver, should probably be given an honorary spot on the team for a) his impressive driving skills and b) doubling as a mechanic. If he hadn't been able to replace ball bearings and flat tires, or to tape battery wires and do all sorts of other mysterious tinkering under the hood, we'd probably still be in the Gobi.

The Gobi is not your prototypical desert; there is some sand, but the landscape varies a lot and some parts of it are actually quite full of life. The first night we set up our tents in a vast area of low scrubby ground cover under one of the biggest skies I've ever seen; Mongolia has got to be nearly unrivaled as a place for star gazing. The second night we camped in a desert "forest" of shrubs; we spent night three at the base of some massive sand dunes, night four near an impressive canyon, and the final night on what looked like a rocky moon-scape.

Although we spent lots of time in the jeep, we also got to scamper around on the rocks, ride camels (albeit a rather lame ride), climb giant sand dunes, hike in a canyon, and lick dinosaur fossils. The licking is a test of authenticity: supposedly your tongue will stick if it's a fossil and not just an ordinary rock. My tongue did stick, and we were in the part of the Gobi where the American explorer Roy Chapman Andrews discovered dinosaur fossils in the 1920s - but I'm still a bit skeptical about the true nature of what my tongue was touching. We also saw some great wildlife including falcons and giant vultures, a fox, and a couple of snakes - and best of all had an extended sighting of three ibex. (Three what, you say? I didn't know what an ibex was either until this trip; I'll put some pictures up soon.)

We were a bit stir-crazy after all that time in the jeep, but it did give us a real appreciation for how vast and desolate the Gobi is. A quote from our guidebook took on new meaning out there in the desert; it went something like, "Only a fool crosses the Gobi without serious misgivings." Or without plenty of water and a talented driver/mechanic!

Team Mongolia - China Edition

2007-09-07T13:01:00.000-07:00

Two Chinese and four Americans take a trip to Mongolia. Kind of sounds like the opening of a joke, doesn't it? Before the trip I was thinking that it sounded like a recipe for travel disaster; six is a lot for a travel group since people always seem to have different ideas about what to see, where to eat, and how much money to spend. I was also a bit worried because Glynnis and the other four had never met and I didn't know how the personalities would mesh. Mostly, though, I was concerned because Eva and Lucy had only been outside China once (and they say that Vietnam doesn't really count since they didn't need passports to get there) and because they'd never traveled anywhere without a tour group. But I'm back from Mongolia now and I'm happy to say that disaster was averted; people compromised and got along, and Eva and Lucy both rolled well with the punches of independent budget travel in Mongolia.

The first punch: cold showers. Thirty hours on any train would leave the passengers feeling grimy, but we felt especially dirty when we arrived in Ulaan Baatar because we'd passed through two dust storms during the trip from Beijing. The dust clouds that filled the train cars started us coughing and wheezing, and then once everyone managed to close their windows the dust settled on our sleeper bunks and our bags, coated our skin, and stuck in our hair. When we got to our cheap guesthouse in UB, none of us was happy to hear that there was no hot water. Pete and Eric and I got over it quickly, hopped in the showers, and came out feeling fresh and clean. Lucy and Eva had never experienced a cold shower and they hesitated for a while, but they eventually decided that they were dirty enough to try it; they both said afterwards that it wasn't as bad as they'd expected.

Punch #2: No Chinese. Eva and Lucy are both English instructors at Wuhan University, so of course they speak good English. They seemed quite taken aback, though, when they discovered that most Mongolians don't speak any Chinese. ("But they're our neighbors!") We tried to tactfully point out that Mongolians are still somewhat bitter about their historical treatment by China and none too fond of their former sovereigns. Of course back in the day their own Ghengis Khan didn't treat the Chinese very well either, but I digress.

Punch #3: Horse trekking - sort of a must-do in Mongolia, but certainly not a luxurious way to travel. Actually, this was a punch for Pete too; he'd said all along that he wasn't thrilled with the idea of riding horses, and he doesn't camp and he'd never gone four days without a shower. Thank goodness he had cigarettes, a French press and a bag of Starbucks Sumatra to get him through. In fact, the coffee and nicotene kept him in such high spirits that along the way he christened our group Team Mongolia, with sub-teams China and America, and cheered us on throughout the trip. He even kept a smile on his face all five times that his horse decided to sit down for a break with Pete still on his back. (Pete was the only smoker in the group, but I should note that the coffee was also good for my spirits, and for Eric's. Thanks, Pete!)

Team China didn't complain, but I think they were especially in need of Pete's encouragement as they dealt with cold nights, bad sunburn, upset stomachs (caused, perhaps, by the fermented mare's milk and dried cheese curds we ate in the yurts we visited), and the lack of facilities. On day one they asked our guide, Handaa, where the bathroom was; I guess they were expecting an outhouse, because they seemed momentarily stunned when she responded with a sweep of her arm toward the treeless hills behind our camping spot.

Actually, Team China did more than just roll with the punches; they seemed to really enjoy the trip despite the rough bits. Eva and Lucy both e-mailed after they got back to China to say how much fun they'd had and how glad they were they'd come along - and that they wished they could have stayed on for Team Mongolia's second week in the country. I believe them, but I suspect that they were also secretly relieved to return to beds and hot showers and familiar food, and to a place where people speak Chinese.

Armenia photos

2007-08-03T14:23:00.000-07:00

I've put a few pictures from my trip up on the web. There's no need to sign in; just click if you want to take a look!

armenia

Armenia 2007

2007-08-03T00:55:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at my computer in Korea, enjoying AC and high-speed Internet, feeling sort of like I've just time travelled. I got back from Armenia yesterday, and I'm struck by how incredibly different it is from life as I generally know it: slower paced, more isolated, less comfortable and convenient - but of course still wonderful in many ways. Things are slowly changing, but in the four years since I left, it seems that they have mostly stayed the same.

The first big change I noticed was the renovated airport. When the A-9s arrived in 2001, we found the airport dim, decaying and depressing and the bathrooms disgusting; this new terminal will certainly give travelers to Armenia a much better first impression of the country.

Another change: cell phones. Four years ago they were virtually unheard of in Armenia, but now everyone seems to have them. They're a significant improvement over the old land lines, though still not completely reliable. The first couple of days I was in the country, Armentel (one of the two cell phone companies in Armenia) phones weren't working at all.

There are now more BMWs and Mercedes - even a Hummer or two - mixed in with the Russian-made Nivas and Ladas and Jigilas, and I even noticed a handful of women driving. Yerevan seems to be one big construction site - there are new buildings going up all over the place. Kapan and Gyumri also had a few new stores and restaurants and cafes, though overall those two cities had changed very little.

Those superficial changes are signs of progress, I suppose, but hidden behind those are many of the same frustrations that people have been dealing with for years. When I visited colleagues in Kapan for coffee, they sounded much like they did four years ago: lamenting, understandably, the scarcity of jobs and the appallingly low salaries of those who do have jobs, the difficulty of educating their kids and paying their bills, the way they wished they'd left for the States back in the early 90's when it was easier for them to get visas - if only they'd known.

For some people, things seem to be even worse now. Prices have noticeably risen while salaries have remained the same. Some of my Armenian friends who several years ago were enthusiastic about working to make their country a better place are frustrated with lack of progress in politics, with the near necessity of paying at least an occasional bribe, with roads that are still pot-holed and with water that's still only turned on for a couple of hours a day. A couple of them say that they won't think twice about leaving if they find jobs in Europe or the States.

I found myself increasingly depressed with the lack of real changes in Armenia, and the tone of this post probably indicates that. I don't want to end on that note, though. Armenia still holds a big place in my heart; despite their difficulties, the people still display impressive hospitality, bringing out the best pastries and chocolates and alcohol they have to offer, and always repeatedly insisting that I eat and then eat some more. Most of my Armenian friends are still making the best of what they have, still proud of their heritage, and still hoping for progress, however slow - really, four years is not much time in the grand scheme of things. It was fantastic to reconnect with people there, including several fellow PCVs, and I hope it won't be four years until I have that chance again!

Hiking Pics

2007-07-11T13:28:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures from our Bukhansan hike (thanks, Kirsten!). These first two can be viewed together as a sort of panorama shot; we hiked up to one of the jagged peaks seen over my right shoulder (at this point, about an hour into the hike, Kirsten still didn't know that's where we were headed). From there we came down past the temple that's visible over Kirsten's left shoulder.

Here's part of the climb up; note the well-equipped Korean hiker that preceded us.

View from the top.

Steep descent.

Hiking in Korea

2007-07-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

Shorts, T-shirt, tennis shoes - check. Apple, Snickers, cashews, water bottle, backpack to carry it all in - check. Sounds like you're ready for a hike, right? Not in Korea.

Here you can easily spot people out for a day of hiking; they wear visors and Gortex vests and hiking boots, preferably in matching colors, and carry backpacks loaded with collapsible walking sticks, water bottles, folding picnic mats, camping mugs, and in many cases a bottle of soju to celebrate with at the pinnacle of a hike.

"Hiking" here actually means "mountain climbing" - not scaling icy peaks with pick axes and crampons, but often using ropes and cables to pull yourself up to a scenic mountain top. I guess I should have explained that a bit more thoroughly when I asked Kirsten if she wanted to go hiking, since she assumed I meant something like "walk in the woods." I think she was also deceived by my Korea Lonely Planet's description of the hike we decided to do in a national park just north of Seoul: "moderate fitness is required - but hey, if Korean grandmothers can do it, so can you!" There should be a footnote there explaining that a lot of Korean grandmothers hike regularly and are probably in better shape than the average American 30-year-old.

The hike was beautiful and rewarding, and despite our perceived lack of preparation (I overheard lots of comments from Korean hikers on the trail along the lines of "Look at at those foreigners! They're wearing tennis shoes!"), we survived it. Afterward she was glad we'd done it, but I think along the way Kirsten's thoughts were going something like this: Korean Grandmothers? Really, Korean Grandmothers??? KOREAN GRANDMOTHERS MY #*$&!!!

On the subway/bus ride home we were kind of wishing we had all the hiking gear. That way our fellow passengers would have known the reason for our sweaty, unkempt, and possibly smelly state; as it was they probably thought we were just two dirty Americans out and about in the city. Kirsten suggested that I talk to her loudly in Korean about the strenuous hike we'd just done; I didn't, but at least the two of us had the inward satisfaction of knowing how we'd worked up that sweat!

New title

2007-06-26T11:12:00.000-07:00

For me, that is, not for the blog: tante. Tante is Dutch for aunt, and it's what this little guy will call me once he learns to talk. (I guess the Van Hulzens should get some sort of citation here since we're copying you all on that!) William David is almost three weeks old now. He's tiny, but I can tell he's strong - I feel him tugging on my heart strings all the way across the Pacific. (awwwww - you probably all know that I'm not too sappy or sentimental - but really, I can't wait to meet and cuddle with Will when I'm home at Christmas!)

Maybe I should change the blog title, or at least add a subtitle: traveling is awesome, but it has a downside - being so far away from loved ones. It's been fun hosting visitors here the past couple of months (watch for updates on my travels with Kirsten here soon), and I look forward to Mom and Dad's arrival on Friday. Remember that the rest of you are always welcome, too!

Home Stretch

2007-06-12T12:33:00.000-07:00

My students are taking their final exams this week, and I'm finding it hard to believe that my first semester here is nearly finished. Since mid-terms I've had a seemingly bottomless pile of papers to go through - rough drafts, final drafts, rough drafts, final drafts - I still love my job, but I am really looking forward to summer vacation!

Last Saturday I took a break from grading to go biking with some friends along the Han River. There are miles of bike paths and quite a nice stretch of riverfront park, a bit of an oasis in the concrete jungle that is Seoul. Loads of people were out enjoying the beautiful early summer evening - playing soccer, strolling, running - some of them just for fun, and some, as this first picture shows, out for a real workout. We saw a number of bikers dressed in full gear like this (and other bikers in high heels or suits and ties - no joke!). There were also lots of serious in-line skaters, some of them decked out like Olympic speed skating teams, crouched and zipping in syncrhonized lines, arms swinging as they weaved in and out among all the others sharing the busy bike path.

Here's a shot of me with Crystal in a rose garden - one of the many flower beds we biked past. Behind us you can see one of the 20-some bridges that span the Han River in Seoul. (Thanks for the photos, Crystal!)

Seoul Food

2007-05-25T11:32:00.000-07:00

This post is actually about Korean food in general; food in Seoul is not that different from food elsewhere in the country - but Seoul food has a better ring to it, don't you think? When Ben was in town last weekend I had another chance to introduce a guest to this tasty, healthy cuisine. It's hard to know where to begin to describe the food; if you really want to know what it's like, you should come visit, too! But using this picture as a guide, I'll try to explain a bit about a Korean meal. (Once again, the photos are courtesy of a friend - thanks, Ben!)

The Korean traditions of eating and sleeping on the floor are becoming less common, but in a lot of restaurants you do still sit cross-legged on floor cushions. It's really gezellig (cosy, for any non-Dutch readers out there), especially in the winter when the floor heating is on. Here's a Korean family that was in the same restaurant - looks like a gezellig way to eat, doesn't it?

Many people think of Korean food as spicy, and a lot of it is - note all the red in the dishes in the first picture (I think Ben said several times, "Man, they really like to put this hot sauce on everything, don't they?"). Koreans do use gochu-jang (pepper paste) in a lot of their food, and also slice HOT peppers into many soups and stews. Most people also think of kimchi when they think of Korean food - and indeed, no Korean meal would be complete without it. I like it now, but the appeal of this spicy, fermented cabbage is definitely an acquired taste. In this picture, the kimchi is in the top left corner of our table. Most Korean meals include a number of side dishes; here we had a couple varieties of kimchi, tofu, a sort of layered-omelette egg dish, and some kind of seafood smothered in - what else? Hot sauce.

Our main dish at this meal was bulgogi - a favorite among foreign visitors to Korea. Bulgogi is thin slices of beef marinated in a mix of ingredients including Asian pear juice, then boiled or grilled. You often eat it wrapped in lettuce leaves; in addition to the meat, you can add other greens, garlic, rice, and bean paste to the wrap. The bulgogi is in the steaming dish in the center of our table; you can see the guy behind me putting together a lettuce wrap.

We also had taenjang jigae - a spicy stew of tofu, squash, and onion in a soybean-based broth. Paired with rice, this is a great meal in itself - especially in winter because it's served in a hot stone pot (the steaming black bowl next to the bulgogi on our table). A number of Korean dishes are served that way, and Mom, I often think of you when I eat them - they're great for people like you who can never seem to have their food hot enough! It starts out much too hot to eat (for me, anyway), but it's nice that even your last few spoonfulls of soup never get cold.

I look forward to introducing my next guests (Kirsten, Mom, and Dad - I hope you're working up your appetites!) to Korean food. Crystal and I followed a day of shopping yesterday with sushi for dinner - and that also got me looking forward to the culinary adventures Kirsten and I will experience in Japan. Those of you who know me well know that I love to eat - and I think that trying different foods is one of the best parts of traveling. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised it's taken me this long to post about Korean food!

Seoul Scenes

2007-05-18T11:50:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love about Seoul is the mix of old and new. These are pictures from a quaint neighborhood of hanok - traditional Korean homes - that I explored with Sun Young and her girls last Friday. I think the juxtaposition in this first picture gives a good sense of that mix: stone walls, paper windows, and curved roof tiles contrasted with the car and motorcycle on the street and the modern buildings in the background.

The girls and I sat down on this front stoop to finish our ice cream and have our picture taken.

Here are Joo Yun and Na Yun, then Sun Young, Na Yun, and me posing by the chimney of one of the hanok.

After ambling through the alleys, we stopped to recharge at this tea house, which wraps around a serene garden and has a fantastic view through a wall of windows of one of the mountains that surrounds Seoul. While Sun Young and I chatted, the girls created their own renditions of the hanok we'd seen. They were both excited about the tiny tea pot and cup that Sun Young's tea was served in, and they took turns filling it again and again from the thermos you can see on the floor and then pouring it into the cup. (Kirsten, this tea house has been added to your Seoul itinerary. You'll love it!)

One of these days I'll buy a digital camera, and then I'll be able to post pictures more frequently. Those you've seen on my blog so far are from kind friends who share their photos with me. Thanks, Sun Young and Eric!

Take me out to the ballgame

2007-05-07T10:01:00.000-07:00

I went to my first professional baseball game in Korea last week. On his first night in town, Eric and I saw the visiting Lotte Giants defeat the Doosan Bears 7-2 in what, for the most part, looked very much like a MLB game in the States. Other than a disproportionate number of left-handed batters (switch hitters was Eric's guess), the game is basically the same; the whole baseball experience, though, has a Korean twist.

One difference from the States is that pro baseball teams in Korea are associated with their corporate sponsors rather than the cities they play in - you won't find Lotte or Doosan if you look for them on a map of Korea. The Bears are one of the two teams that play their home games at the stadium used for baseball at the Seoul Olympics (though baseball was only a demonstration sport in '88). I should ask some Korean friends about team loyalty; I'd assume that people root for their hometown team, but I'm really not sure. The Giants are a Pusan team, and they certainly had lots of fans at this game.

Another difference is that there are cheerleaders here - not only the girls with pom-pons that we're used to seeing at football and basketball games in the States, but also guys dressed in team uniforms who stand on platforms in front of the baseline crowds to lead them in chants and songs. Our seats were in left field, and we had a good view of the Giants cheerleader on the third base line. He was a wildly gesticulating conductor who displayed endless enthusiasm and used blow after blow on his whistle to get the fans to chant the name of the player at bat or to sing team ditties like "Lot-te, Lot-te, Lot-te, Lot-te" sung to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. And sing they did; fans here really, really get into the game.

As you can see, snacks at Korean baseball games are also a bit different. Instead of popcorn and CrackerJack, fans here eat kimbap and dried squid - which admittedly looks rather funny but actually tastes quite good, especially once you dip it in hot pepper paste. It goes well with beer, which they sell in cans here; apparently Korean fans are better behaved and less likely to hurl them onto the field than some of their rowdy American counterparts might be.

I'm sure it was a shame for many of those in attendance that the home team didn't win - but for two American fans it was just fun to be out with the crowd, enjoying a familiar pastime on a warm spring evening on the far side of the Pacific.

Underwear

2007-04-27T12:39:00.000-07:00

Yes, underwear. One of my colleagues told me the other day that a student wrote an essay about underwear on her midterm exam. The prompt was to write about an advertisement that had convinced you to buy a product, so I guess it sort of fit - but we both still found some of the details she included a bit odd for an academic assignment. Thinking back to my first time in Korea, though, I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me too much. Back then I received underwear as a Teachers' Day present from one of my elementary school students; I'd been told that it was a common gift, but it was still a bit of a shock when I opened the package. Another pair of students (brother and sister, about 8 and 10 years old) gave me nylons - and when the girl handed them to me she said, "Don't worry, teacher. They're big size!" Isn't it funny how cultural ideas about what makes an appropriate essay topic or gift for a teacher can vary so widely?

This being midterm week, I've spent most of my time grading tests; these thoughts on underwear are the most entertaining thing I can think of to write about. But Eric arrives tomorrow from China, the first in a string of visitors I'm looking forward to over the next two months - and I trust that touring around with them and seeing Korea again through fresh eyes will provide some good material for upcoming reflections on life here in Seoul!

It's not all fun and games

2007-04-17T17:43:00.000-07:00

A couple of you have asked, via e-mail, about my job. I decided to respond with a blog post since there might be others of you out there who haven't asked but are interested - and also because I'm afraid I might otherwise be creating the impression that I spend all my time in Korea rating coffee shops and relaxing at the bathhouse.

I love my job. It's loads of work, especially since this is my first semester; next fall it will be nice to revise lesson plans, assignments, rubrics, quizzes, and exams rather than creating them from scratch as I'm doing now. But my students are great, and the work is rewarding and (with the possible exception of grading/commenting on written work) really enjoyable.

The College English Program that I teach in is sort of an extension of the English Department. The latter offers courses mainly for English majors - literature mostly, plus some advanced grammar and linguistics courses. In the CEP we teach more practical - for lack of a better word - language courses. All students at SNU have to take at least one course in our program; based on their standardized test scores, they take a low-level English foundations course, an intermediate reading/writing/speaking/listening course, or an advanced course - their choice from themes such as current issues, English-speaking cultures, or drama.

I teach three sections of the intermediate class, which is the category that most students here fall into, and also two sections of advanced English reading. For the first few weeks of the reading course, students read and discussed news articles about trends in higher education in the States such as service learning and taking courses online. Right now they're reading editorials on some of the same topics and analyzing and evaluating the arguments made in them. Midterms are next week, and after that we'll change gears and start reading short stories by American authors like Hemingway and Kate Chopin. The reading course has been fun for me because I got to design it myself (there's a bit more structure in place for the intermediate courses), and also because both sections are fantastic groups of students. My intermediate students are good too, but the advanced ones are especially active in class discussions and thoughtful in their responses - and since their English level is pretty high, we can dig into more complex issues.

So, for the record, I do spend the bulk of my time here in the classroom and the office. I suppose my free-time activities probably make for more interesting blog posts, though, so I'll get back to them next time!

Signs of Spring

2007-04-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

The weather is warming up, and with the forsythia and cherry blossoms in bloom and the trees beginning to bud, it's really starting to feel like spring. But even without the buds and blossoms, another, rather unusual, sign would let you know that it's spring in Korea: surgical masks.

Actually, random Koreans can be seen wearing them year-round. Some students in the academy where I used to teach wore them when they had colds to prevent the spread of germs - a nice idea, though the purpose seemed to be soundly defeated when they'd peel back the masks to drink from the one cup that all the kids shared at the water cooler. But when you see masses of people walking around with masks on, as I did on my way to church last Sunday, you know that spring has arrived, and with it the yellow dust that blows across the West Sea (a.k.a. Yellow Sea) from the Gobi Desert aroud this time each year. The dust picks up pollutants emitted from the industrial centers of northeastern China as it makes its way east, so apparently inhaling it once it reaches the Korean peninsula is bad for the lungs.

Last Sunday I went for an early morning hike on one of the trails behind campus, and when I reached a rocky outpost I was thinking that if it weren't for the haze, I'd have a great view of campus and of southern Seoul. It was only later in the day, when I saw all the people with their masks on, that I connected that morning haze with the yellow dust; during the week I looked it up online and discovered that was probably the worst day for yellow dust that we'd have this spring. I wonder: do the health benefits of a hike outweigh the damage of any pollutants I inhaled along the way?

Then and Now

2007-03-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

I've been making mental notes over the past few weeks of things that have changed since I first arrived in Korea nearly 10 years ago, but I'd been wondering if some of them were actually differences between 1997 and 2007 rather than differences between small-city Mokpo and megalopolis Seoul. Well, I visited Mokpo last weekend, so now I can report on a few.

THEN: I learned quickly that "coffee" on a cafe' or restaurant menu actually meant "warm, brown, mildly caffeinated liquid." The upside was that I started to order tea instead, which is how I discovered maeshil cha, a sweet plum tea, and yooja cha, a tea made from candied citrus rinds - both delicious and, as far as I know, uniquely Korean.
NOW: Good coffee is widely available. There seems to be a Starbucks on every corner here in Seoul, and a couple of new Korean coffee shop chains also offer up good strong cups o' jo. Even independently-owned cafe's in Mokpo now have espresso machines that produce the read deal. Honestly, I'm surprised the coffee craze didn't hit Korea sooner; it seems like green tea wouldn't give people here quite the kick they need to make it through their frenetic days. Koreans never cease to amaze me by how much they work and study and how little they sleep.

THEN: public restrooms were often, well, less than pleasant, and toilet paper was almost never available.
NOW: Most of the public bathrooms I've used have been pretty clean, and only once have I been saved by my old habit of carrying a packet of tissues with me wherever I go.

THEN: the trip from Mokpo to Seoul took five hours.
NOW: Korea has a new bullet train system. Mokpo-to-Seoul, KTX time: 3 hours, 15 minutes! There's even a coffee cart on the train, so you can sip a cup as you watch the scenery whiz by at nearly 200 miles an hour. It doesn't actually feel like you're going that fast, but that's the speed Lonely Planet reports.

Fortunately, many of the things I love about Korea haven't changed: the people are just as friendly, the food is just as good, and my teaching here is just as rewarding as it was the first time around.

NOW: I have 40 article summaries and 65 quizzes to grade, so I'd better get to work.

St. Patty's in Seoul

2007-03-20T00:51:00.000-07:00

It's no surprise that cities like Boston and Chicago, with all their Irish-Americans, throw big St. Patrick's Day celebrations. But Seoul? Yep - they celebrate here, too. I guess everybody is glad for an excuse to party and wear green!

Ok, so it's not widely celebrated, or even widely known in Korea; most of my students had never heard of St. Patrick's Day. But there were a couple of events going on around town. On Saturday afternoon I went to a free celebration sponsored by the Irish-Korean association; a good number of people - Koreans as well as expats, sporting green and wearing big smiles - were out enjoying the sunshine and spring weather. They had a parade and games and face painting, and that was all especially fun since I was there with Sun Young and her two girls. They loved the balloons and the parade and the zaniness of it all.

Saturday evening I went to another gathering; this one was put on by the Irish embassy, but it wasn't free. Crystal and I decided to splurge, because there's no better place to celebrate St. Patty's than an Irish pub - right? Wrong. The food was really, really good, and the ticket price also included all you could drink. But after dinner and one Guinness, we decided the whole affair was overpriced and overcrowded; rather than sticking around in a noisy, smoky bar packed with loud, obnoxious Americans, we headed out to the less-crowded streets (and that's really saying something in Seoul!) of the Myoung-dong shopping district and browsed the stores there. Who says you can't celebrate St. Patrick's Day by shopping?

It's the little things

2007-03-15T16:24:00.000-07:00

I wish I had something adventurous to write about, but even life in a far-off foreign land can quickly become pretty routine. My days are filled with teaching, grading, and class prep, meeting friends, reading - not all that different from what I would be doing back in the United States. What I love about ex-pat life, though, is that my daily routine is peppered with new experiences: trying a different food, learning (or re-learning, as the case may be) a new word, or receiving an unusual gift from a student (today, a large rainbow-colored lollipop shaped like foot).

It's the little things - like the fact that when I had dinner with my friend Sun Young and her family the other night, her 4-year old was eating with chopsticks. She was a bit clumsy, holding them wrapped in the palm of her hand, but it worked!

And e-mail from students; even from non-native speakers that I taught in the States, I rarely had such complimentary or entertaining messages. I asked students in my three intermediate classes to send me e-mail messages introducing themselves. They did, and often added comments about how they "thanks God" for a beautiful English teacher, or how pleasing my lectures are. One even added a parenthetical note: this is not a joke or flattery. A couple of students, male and female, told me that they hope to be intimate with me; I'm pretty sure that's a poor choice of words rather than a suggestion of an inappropriate teacher-student relationship. (And now a parenthetical note of my own: I find their small mistakes amusing, but I should say that as a whole, my students speak good English; some of them are outstanding, and all of them are certainly more competent than the average American college student is in any foreign language.)

So no live octopus for dinner (oh - I did try cow stomach the other night!) or bungee jumping or anything like that to tell you about this week. But I'm happy to report that though I've settled into a routine, I'm taking pleasure in the little things that make everyday life here a bit of an adventure.

Squeaky Clean

2007-03-05T17:50:00.000-08:00

I went to a Korean bathhouse on Saturday with Crystal, a friend of a friend who also just moved to Seoul (small world, ESL!). We talked about the bathhouse the first time we met, and agreed that while it took some convincing the first time we'd each gone (in the Korean cities we'd previously lived in), it was a relaxing cultural experience worth repeating. Originally we'd thought that since people point and stare at us when we're out and about and fully clothed, the scrutiny would certainly be worse in the bathhouse. It's not, though, and fortunately we each had expat friends who finally got us to try it.

Even if you're not stared at, it's still nice to go with a buddy - especially when trying out a new place. The routine seems to be a bit different in each bathhouse, and though the Korean ajumas (literally "married woman," but used among expats to refer to grandmotherly Koreans) are quick to show you how they do things (hot bath, cold bath, really hot bath, cold bath, really, really hot bath . . . you get the idea), it's good not to be the only one looking lost until they start pointing you in the right direction.

On Saturday we started by donning the baggy shorts and T-shirt that were provided, then headed to the four saunas, each made of a different material and with temperatures ranging from hot to unbearably hot. There are straw mats and wooden pillows in all of them (trust me, that's more comfortable than it sounds); after lying on the floor for a while, chatting and working up a good sweat, we headed back to the gender-segregated bath part of the place. The only rule there is that you shower first; after that we did our own series of hot-cold-hot-cold, plus another sauna, and ended with a scrub session using these really scratchy Korean bath mitts.

I was amused at the benefits promised in the brochures we picked up at the front desk. Among them: the amethyst "furnace" (sauna) is supposed to emit "life-friendly energy oscillation wave and far-infrared rays so that it urinates the waste material in body," and the charcoal furnace to "detoxify harmful order or toxic material for human body by absorbing and sucking in them." I shouldn't laugh at the English; I'm sure those aren't easy concepts to translate, and it's nice that they make the effort. I rather doubt that I had any toxic materials sucked out (or sucked in), but I did leave feeling relaxed and very, very clean.

Back in the Land of Morning Calm

2007-03-01T10:25:00.000-08:00

I have often wondered who came up with that phrase to describe Korea, and I've come to two possible conclusions. Either it was someone who spent all their time here in the mountains, or someone who lived here years and years ago. "Calm" is certainly not a word I'd readily associate with this country - not in the morning or at any other time of day or night. I don't mean that to be derogatory; it's simply that with so many millions of people living in such a small place, there always seems to be some sort of frenzied activity going on.

Happily, though, my new home here is relatively calm. The university is a nice escape from the city; while technically in Seoul, it's on the outskirts, sitting at the foot of a picturesque mountain. My on-campus studio apartment is quiet; unlike my previous apartments in Korea, there's not too much traffic going by, and (so far, anyway) no loudspeakers from trucks in the parking lot announcing the sale of fresh seafood or turnips or strawberries or mandarins or whatever fruit or vegetable might be in season. I did hear a car alarm this morning, and also a screaming child in an apartment down the hall. I repeat: my home here is relatively calm.

As I said, though, I'm technically in Seoul, and a 15-minute walk brings me to a hub of activity. There are literally hundreds (maybe even thousands) of shops and restaurants in walking distance - including a McDonald's, KFC, Pizza Hut, Outback Steakhouse, Subway, Dominoes, Dunkin' Donuts, and Starbucks. I LOVE Korean food, and so far Starbucks has been the only Western chain to tempt me (twice!). But I bought a coffee maker the other day, so now I can get my fix at home for a fraction of the price. There's also a subway station in the midst of that retail area; I can head underground there and be whisked away to virtually any corner of this vast city via its ten metro lines.

My Lonely Planet says that they're now promoting the country as "dynamic Korea" rather than "the land of morning calm." That really is a more fitting description, I think, but either way - frenzied or peaceful, dynamic or calm - I'm glad to be back.

T.I.A.

2007-02-07T07:02:00.000-08:00

Let me start with an explanation of the rather corny title I've chosen for this blog. Every time I take a trip, my travel companions and I seem to come up with a word or phrase that becomes a theme for the journey. My first time in Thailand, Glynnis and I adopted the Thai Tourism Bureau's official slogan, which we had learned from commercials on CNN International. There were myriad reasons for one of us to say it: sipping a coconut shake by the beach - Amazing Thailand! Spotting a full rainbow over the Gulf of Thailand - Amazing Thailand! Taking in the shiny, gilded Grand Palace in Bangkok - Amazing Thailand! Being on vacation from teaching fun-but-sometimes-too-energetic Korean children - yep, Amazing Thailand!

In Australia and New Zealand with Kate, the phrase was "I love our life!" Diving on the Great Barrier Reef, seeing Uluru/Ayer's Rock at sunset, sharing Guinness and travel stories with Irish backpackers in a Kiwi Irish pub, boating through the stunning scenery of Milford Sound, learning about Aborigines and the Maori - what's not to love? Actually, I can think of a few things not to love about the traveling life, like trying to sleep on overnight bus rides and lugging around a massive, heavy backpack for months on end. But who's complaining?

When Katy and I were in Turkey and Greece, everything we saw and most everyone we met was "flash." I read that in one of my very sporadic journal entries the other day, but I can't for the life of me remember where that expression came from. Katy?

"Traveling is Awesome" comes from my trip to China's Yunnan Province with Eric and Bob last summer. I don't remember when I first said it; it might have been while trekking through Tiger Leaping Gorge, or maybe when we were chatting with a friendly German guy we met in ShangriLa, or perhaps as we were eating some tasty Tibetan steamed buns. Whatever the occasion was, it struck Eric as funny and it stuck. I thought the phrase would make a good blog title because a) the blog will chronicle my life overseas and b) cheesy as it sounds, I really do think traveling is awesome.

One of my favorite quotes about traveling is from Saint Augustine. It goes something like this: "The world is a book, and those who never travel read only the first page." Many of my relatives and friends have never left their native countries, and I don't mean to imply that they haven't really begun to understand the world - but I think Augustine was right. Traveling is like reading a great book: it challenges you to see the world from new perspectives, introduces you to fascinating characters, and gives you insight into the diversity of creation and culture - the various landscapes and people and languages and food and traditions that exist around the globe. Finishing one chapter in a good book makes you eager to move on to the next; traveling is like that too, I think. And traveling adventures, like great passages in a book, stay with you long after you finish reading them.

I've never been good at keeping a journal when I travel, and I keep thinking that some day I'll regret it. I'm better (a little better) with e-mail, but then I never know how many details people want to read; I don't want to clog anyone's in-box with unwanted lengthy messages. A blog seems to be the perfect way to kill those two birds with one stone: maybe I'll be motivated to keep up with this travel journal if I know that people out there might be reading it. Here's to writing and reading about travel - which, by the way, is awesome.