Planes, Trains, and Wagons East

Prague Plundered

2010-05-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

And now for something completely different. Prague. An utter disappointment. Don't get me wrong, its a gorgeous city... when the streets aren't clogged with map-wielding, camera-flashing, tourists in groups of 30 or more - I think the only locals who live in Prague work in the restaurants and stores that serve us. But they were. Everywhere. And they rob the city of its beauty. Unfortunately I booked four nights in a hostel (the most I have ever booked at once) expecting greatness.

I did the standard walking around, drinking coffee, eating delicious food thing for two days. I hiked to the top of the biggest hill outside the city, then up a huge tower from which I got a spectacular view of the city. Like I said, gorgeous when you can't see the tourists. The next two days I spent around the hostel, blogging, planning the next 2 weeks of my trip, and resting, because holy crap I was tired of tourists and cities. At this point I made it my mission to visit a small town in Germany and spend a few days there, away from the madness. I did make it to the city center for an concert put on as an anti-communism demonstration. There I met a cool German chick and after the music we went to a ridiculous bar with 3 floors: one for drinking, once for dancing, and one for live music. We chose live music. Pretty cool.

The best thing about Prague was definitely the beer. So far, the Czech's make the best, and Budweiser is my favorite (even after my German beer experience). Thats right. Budweiser. The original, not the crappy American version. Pilsner Urquell is also amazing. So, go to the Czech Republic, definitely. The country is beautiful - the train ride to Berlin was by far the prettiest - the beer is delicious, and the locals are lovely, if you can find them. But spend only one day in Prague and the rest of your time elsewhere. Unless, of course, you like amusement parks.

Bathed in Beautiful Budapest

2010-05-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

Budapest. Really, what else can I say? The name rings with glamor and age, beauty and grime, Europe and the East. And the city doesn't disappoint. One of my favorites, definitely. I arrived after a short three and a half hour jaunt from Vienna ready for a full day at the famous thermal baths of the historic city. After checking into my hostel in Pest, run by an eager to please and neat-freaky, Korean guy, I headed out down one of Budapest's famous boulevards, Andrassy Blvd. Zoe had tipped me off to visiting the Szechenyi Baths in the city park (Pest) which is at the very end of the street. Its the only outdoor and the only mixed gender bath in the city. And it is astoundingly beautiful. Right in the middle of the park, surrounded by green trees and blue sky sits the huge yellow building fitted with sculptures, domes, elaborate windows, the works. Inside (outside, really, in the courtyard) are three huge pools, each at different temperatures hovering around 37 degrees celcius, with fountains and jets everywhere. Tons of people were there, but it never felt crowded. Inside the building are locker rooms, cabins, saunas and even more pools. I spent the rest of the day there.

Budapest is where I started smoking cigarettes. Maybe its because Europeans make smoking look cool, I dont know, but one day I craved one and no one had any so I had to get a whole pack. Then I had to finish it. Then I got another cause man do they help you sleep. But don't worry, I stopped in Berlin. Hooray for being mentally stronger than nicotine.

The next day I went to the biggest synagogue in Europe, 2nd biggest in the world. It was... disappointing. It was basically a church. Designed by a Catholic for a very reform branch of Judaism, it looked like a cathedral, and had been rebuilt after some form of destruction that I don't remember. I also had to pay to go in which sucked. It was pretty though. I also tried to do a little digging in the archives to find out if any of my relatives were members, as my mothers side of the family comes from Budapest., but they were closed. So were the archives in the orthodox synagogue. At 11:30am on a Tuesday. Fuck.

After that disappointment, I walked to the river. And wow did that change my mood. Budapest is, quite possibly, the prettiest city I've seen. The famed Buda hills roll down the river as far as you can see cluttered at times (at others dotted) with magnificent red-roofed buildings while church steeples puncture their way out of the city. One of the hills, the biggest and closest to the river, has a bunch of castles on it. Another has Buda Castle and upon reaching the top, you can see the rest of Buda spread out behind it. Incredible. Pest is also pretty, with the gorgeous Parliament building dominating that side of the river. I had lunch on the river, ducked into a few cafes, and managed to swing back around to the big synagogue for a night view (mostly because I had to check my pocketknife and I forgot about it when I left).

Two American girls checked into my small hostel that night, Regan (pronounced Reagan, seriously) and Rachel. We polished off a few bottles of cheap, 1 euro wine in the hostel and had a good time. The next morning the three of us went to Budapest's biggest market, and I managed to get us lost on the way. We walked around for a while, then went our separate ways for the day. The market was amazing. Huge, indoors, and filled with produce, meats, cheeses, breads, everything delicious. Upstairs there were some cafeteria style point-at-a-big-bucket-of-Hungarian-food-cause-you-dont-know-what-its-called restaurants. I ate lunch and dinner there. Amazing food.

After the market I went up to Buda Castle and Castle Hill, which I hadn't visited the day before. It was good that I hadn't because I got the best views on the most beautiful of days. Back at the hostel, two more chicks, Sara and someone else (I'm so bad with names) had checked in and they were much cooler than the first two, so that night the three of us got some more cheap wine and had a better time.

I decided to leave for Prague the next day. I should have stayed longer.

V for Vienna

2010-05-07T07:58:00.000-07:00

Vienna was... big. The old city was the biggest I've visited to date. And the Danube, well, when you get to the Danube, its not the Danube. It's a canal from the river snaking its way next to the old city. The actual river is another 30 minutes away on foot. But once you get there its GORGEOUS. The buildings are also huge. Gigantic. Get-blisters-from-walking-around-them big. If you go inside, though, you have to walk around the whole building because you probably paid 10 euro to get in. Vienna is a most expensive city. Fortunately, I had a place to stay.

Before leaving on my European odyssey, word spread though the family grapevine of my impending adventure. Turns out I had a relative living in Vienna. To be perfectly honest, Vienna was not on my original itinerary, but that changed with this new information. My relative is my mom's cousin's daughter, Zoe, who I'd never met or heard of. I sent her an email and she instantly offered me a place to stay. Gotta love family.

I arrived in Vienna early in the morning after my overnight train from Krakow, met Zoe for about 10 minutes before she had to be off for work. I settled into my cozy new diggs, a double bed in an awesome apartment on a quiet street just outside the old city (easily the best place I've stayed so far), took a nap, then headed out. I was tired and didn't feel like being a tourist so I left the camera at home, walked around the old city, ate soup, drank coffee, and came back home. Later, Zoe and I went out for dinner and got to know each other better.

The next day was tourist day. The Hapsburg palace was first up, and its pretty incredible. Huge, marble, shiny, and intricate.

Part of it is a university library and they wouldn't let me in. The rest is a museum filled with Greek stuff from Ephesus, arms (the metal kind, not the limb kind), and old musical instruments. I guess the Hapsburgs were mild collectors. Then I went to the center of the city where theres a bigass cathedral, after which I discovered just how far away the Danube was. I didn't actually make it there. Instead I went to Prater Park and didn't rent a bike cause it was too expensive. The park is a huge, beautiful green area just across the Danube canal. Amusement parks, restaurants, bike paths... the works. After the park I went to the bigass art museum and saw a huge Egyptian collection (awesome), a Roman collection (yeah), and some classical paintings (which I don't really get or like) including a few Rembrandts (ok, he's good). Not a bad day.

I told Zoe I was into hiking and she recommended I go through the vineyards just outside the city, so thats what I did the next day. And boy was she right. Just beautiful neighborhoods and houses scattered across beautiful, hilly country. It was cloudy and grey, but still gorgeous. And best of all, Austrians enjoz wine with their hiking, so many of these vineyards are open for wine tasting. I stopped at one and had some delicious local wine while demonstrating my complete lack of knowledge of the subject to the owner of the huge vineyard. We had a few laughs and I got a bit tipsy. Austrians sure know how to hike.

After a delicious homecooked breakfast of french toast and french-pressed coffee prepared by my host, Zoe and I took a walk down to the Nascht(?) Markt, or snack market of you know Yiddish. It was a huge open-air market near the old city filled with delicious local foods and fleas (get it? there was also a flea market). I loooove markets. I bought bread, hummus, peppers stuffed with cheese, and brie for way too much money, and I headed for the Danube. I took the subway this time, to the long, skinny island in the middle of the river. Its a spectacularly beautiful river. I stayed there for a long time. There were swans.

The next day was the best day of my trip so far. I woke up early and took a train (Austrian trains are awesome) to Melk, a small town on the Danube, about an hour West of Vienna. Its a pretty touristy town but I got there before all the rest of them, so it was quiet and beautiful. People come here because of the river and the Abby. Stift Melk, as its called, is a huge monestary sitting atop a cliff over the town. Its amazing, mostly for the views from the top. After that I walked around for an hour trying to find a place to rent a bike cause the information center was closed and the guy at the train station told me where to go but after i couldnt find it told me he actually didn't know where to go. I finally found a hotel that I could rent from. I rode along the river for about 20 km, through tiny towns, meadows, and fields surrounded by gorgeous green mountains until I arrived in the town of Spitz. There I stopped for lunch at a Hariger, which is the home a local vinyard owner turned restaurant with tables set up outside. I sat down with an older couple from Linz and they helped me order from the German menu. I had the house wine and some cheese spreads. Just amazing. We chatted for a while and they paid for one of my glasses of wine. Wonderful people. At the second Hariger I went to I had more wine and some cake. I could have Hariger-hopped all day like my friends from Liz, but I was full and I had to get back to Melk to return the bike. I was going to ride back on the other side of the river so I asked my server (the owner) where the next bridge was. "Theres no bridge here," he replied, "only in Melk or Krems" which was another 20 km up the road. How wonderful, in a completely non-sarcastic way. 40 km between bridges, and I'm used to cities with four or more just downtown. Its nice to be in a place where rivers are respected, especially one as beautiful as the Danube.

I returned home just as Zoe was preparing dinner. We ate pasta, talked, and I think bonded in the way family should. Pretty much the best day ever.

Next Week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Hungary? I'd like some Pest with a dash of Buda.

ps. sorry for the lack of pictures. I'll change that when I get to a computer that can handle it, but I'm getting too far behind to wait for that.

Caught up in Crakow

2010-05-02T12:04:00.000-07:00

Before leaving Korea I got in touch with a friend of a friend who lives in Krakow. He met me at the train station and my five amazing days in Poland were off to a great start. We went for a get-to-know-you beer in one of the cities many, many bars, before going to the most incredible restaurant ever. It was a higher end "milk bar" or Polish style cafeteria. I asked my host to order for me and it was one of the best meals of my life. Polish white borscht with mashed potatoes and sausage (my new favorite dish) and beef goulash over fried mashed potatoes. Needless to say I went back there several times.

The next day was a little rainy, but I went out and explored the old town and Wawel Castle (remember that name). Did the usual cafe hopping and I walked around the park surrounding the city which replaced the city walls when they were torn down. The old city is pretty small, relative to what I've seen since, but it has the largest town square in Europe. And its beautiful.

On Saturday I went to services again. This one was in a tiny synagogue in Kazimirez, the Jewish Quarter, which, outside of the synagogues is completely and ridiculously touristy. Not that it gets a whole lot of visitors, but the restaurants and shops are all jewish-themed which is silly because only about 100 Jews still live in Krakow. I headed back to the old town after the service and met Chris from Iowa in a cafe. He had lived in Krakow for 3 years and we spent the rest of the day walking around the city, into churches and one of the oldest universities in Europe. Then, at night, we stumbled upon a concert in the center square. It was in preparation for the President's funeral the next day.

For those of you who don't know, the President of Poland, Lech Kaczynski, along with 90 others including almost every high ranking member of the armed forces and the chairman of the national bank, died in a plane crash over Russia in the 2nd week of April. Krakow, being the old capital, was where the funeral was to be held. This was a very controversial decision because of where the government decided to bury the president. Wawel Castle (remember?) is where the royal family plus many of Poland's great historical figures are interred. Lech Kaczynski would be the first president to be buried there, and many felt he was undeserving. There were protests, mild ones as its not easy to protest in the wake of someone's death (yeah, I'm awesome). But the town was a-buzz with discussion. It was definitely an exciting time to be in Krakow. Anyway, I had to go to the funeral. I camped out in a good spot at about 10am - I didn't really have anything else to do cause everything was closed - and waited until 5pm when the procession came by, from the town square up to Wawel castle. A smaller crowd than expected showed up, just like in Warsaw, but I couldn't tell from where I was sitting. It was quiet, somber, and full of tourists like me hoping to catch a glimpse of a moment rarely seen in any country.

There, sitting in my spot, oddly enough, I met a nice Polish girl named Anya. (By the way, I just love having to start every conversation with "Do you speak English." Ugh, I feel so stupid doing that.) Now, I don't normally pick up women at funerals, but we talked for a while, about the Prez and other things, and went out for drinks after the ceremony, when they started serving alcohol again - no partying on funeral day.

The next day Auschwitz happened. Read about it. Then, in an Auschwitz haze, I spent the rest of the day with Anya and her roommates, Marta (Marrrrrrrta, for all those Arrested Development people out there) and Litka. The river is beautiful at night.

My last day in Poland was pretty lazy, recovering from a few nights of very little sleep. I did check out the big synagogue in the Jewish quarter and I had a lovely dinner, again at the Milk Bar with my Krakovian friend of a friend, Karol, again having the white borscht and beef goulash. Just incredible. Then I boarded the overnight train for Vienna.

Summary time. Yeah, Krakow was amazing. Easily my favorite place out of everywhere I've visited, before or since. The people were wonderful, the town was beautiful and small, plenty of awesome and interesting bars and cafes (at least 400 in the old town, literally, and most of the bars were underground in these like four hundred year old buildings which was completely and ridiculously cool), I got to see an incredible cultural/political event, and experience awesome history. Oh yeah, and the girl was a huge bonus. Not really much more I could ask for. Krakow: I want to live to there.

Next week on Planes Trains and Wagons East: Vienna and the Hapsburgs - If you build it (bigger) they will come.

Layin' Low in Lviv

2010-04-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

And we're back...

I arrived in Lviv at 5:30am after eight hours on the train sitting across from a gorgeous Ukranian woman. She spoke great English and gave me tea and beer. Definitely the most pleasant train ride I've had. After checking into my hostel I decided to head to the town square and watch the town wake up.

Four hours later I realized that this town was on a different schedule than I'm used to. Around 9am People began trickling out of their apartments, opening up their shops and cafes, and piling into the trams (I love trams) to get to work. During those four hours I walked over to a beautiful cemetery I had read about. It was closed, not surprisingly, but I went in anyway cause I'm a tourist and I don't know any better (I did, but I can act clueless). The oldest grave I saw was frm 1779.

After the graveyard I went searching for the local synagogue, as has become customary in every city I visit. The one here was in horrible shape, and a nice old lady I met explained to me that the roof had been torn off a couple of years ago by a strong wind and only recently had they raised enough money to fix it, so the inside was in bad shape. Not to mention it was used as a stable for horses during the war.

Next up was a hike to High Castle, where there is no castle, but a spectacular view over the city. It's a much bigger city than it seems, especially if you keep to the old city.

Later I met a couple of guys, Frederick from France and Robin from Austria, in my hostel who were going out to a bar and I decied to join them. It was a really cool, kitschy old bar where the bouncer says something like "Glory to Ukraine" and you have to respond "Geroyim Slava" or, "Glory to the people." Inside was a lively group of locals, and later, some lively music to which everyone sang along. We met a couple Ukranian girls there. I made it back to the hostel around 4am.

Needless to say, the next day I was pretty exhausted. Good thing I had a cafe day planned. I hopped around from one cafe to another, each having its own theme and unique atmosphere, along with (what I've learned since moving West) cheap coffee. Halfway through the day I met up with Frederick who joined my cafe hopping. We ate dinner at this awesome Ukranian cafeteria. I left for Krakow the next morning at 7:30.

And that was my Lviv experience. For a big city it has a surprisingly small, laid back feel, which was just what I needed after all those trains and all those huge cities. The coffee was good, the beer and vodka were cheap, and the people were lovely. I'm very glad I got a chance to see Ukraine's second city. It is definitely a special place.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Krakow - All it's cracked up to be?

The Camps

2010-04-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

I don't really know if I'm ready to write about this. Maybe because I haven't had enough time to reflect, maybe because I'm having so much fun traveling that the somber feeling doesn't last. Maybe because it will never be written about the way it should be. But I will try.

Preface: Disturbing stuff to follow. The first word of the first paragraph will give you a little indication.

2nd Preface: I did this yesterday, and I had to write about it now while it's fresh in my mind. I will resume proper chronology at the next post.

Auschwitz. I used to think the name was enough. Enough to visualize, to think about, even to understand the tragic extent of the Holocast. Enough to cloud eyes with mourning, conversations with sadness, and days with loss. I was wrong. At least my image was, my thoughts were. I realized that as soon as I arrived.

First of all, tourists suck. That place should be open to one person or one family at a time, free to walk in silence. Instead, most people go in huge groups on guided tours. Needless. Talking has no effect there. Neither do facts. We all know the facts, most of them anyway. The staggering numbers, the names, the dates. But we don't hear them or feel how close they are to us, how real they are. The only sound in that place should be the rocks grinding under your feet. The only movement, you and your thoughts. Sometimes, though, from across the camp, the lines of tour groups marching in step across the grounds show you what it may have been like when prisoners were there... with brightly colored clothing, sunglasses, and digital cameras.

The camp is now a museum. Officially the "Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum." Many of the former barracks have been turned into exhibition halls. A few show the Holocaust experience from the perspective of different countries, while others show prison life and "evidence of crimes." The evidence are huge piles of everyday items. Eye glasses, dishes, combs, suitcases, shoes (adult and child), and perhaps most disturbing, equipment of the disabled. Just in piles.

Auschwitz itself is quite small. It would take maybe 20 minutes to walk around the whole camp if there was nothing to see. I decided to make two rounds: one without and one with a camera. The infamous gateway with the words "Arbeit Macht Frei" (work makes you free) came at me so fast I didn't think it was real. It doesn't look real in color, against green grass and a blue sky. I walked around slowly, guideless, aimless, trying to listen. After viewing the piles of evidence, I sat down in a grassy yard between the barracks and ate a simple lunch of bread, cream cheese, and jelly. Imagine. This was not a place for a Jewish man. This was not a place to sit or eat or relax. But here I was. A testament to my people, my culture, and our courage. Sometimes life is a struggle between good and evil, right and wrong. Rarely is it so clear who is who and what is what. But we are good. We are right. And we won. I am proof.

But we also lost. It was at that moment that I became terrified. This camp was built for me. This was a place for a Jewish man, for all Jewish men. I was to die. Eventhough I was not alive, I was a gleam in the eye of the Furher. He knew I was coming and he couldn't let that happen. Millions died to ensure I would not live. The weight of so many people is on the shoulders of every Jewish person now living. It is not a burden or a responsibility, but a reminder. A reminder that this can happen. That there is evil in the world, and that you can always be a target. All you can do is try to be at peace at that moment. I savored every bite of my sandwich.

On that day I did one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. Like so many Jews before me, I walked into a gas chamber. I knew I was going to come out, but that did not make it any easier. As I got closer, every step screamed "I can't do this, I can't do this. I have to do this." I was alone, but I was in line. Marching with my people. I walked through the door that so many people would never see opened again. Inside were the furnaces, and the pipes, and the chimney. Silence. I couldn't move. There were too many of us. The door was open and I found myself outside again.

Auschwitz. No longer an image.

If Auschwitz was disturbing, Birkenau was terrifying. Much, much bigger than Auschwitz, Birkenau was where the crematorium and most of the gas chambers were. Where people came to die. Most of the buildings were in ruins. There is one train track to the camp, and it goes through the main gate. At the other end of the camp, it stops. Trains came here for one purpose. They came full of people and left, empty, on the same tracks. The "selection platform," where the people were unloaded, is gigantic. 70% went to the gas chambers upon arrival. I walked its length twice, again, just listening.

I don't really know if I was ready to write about this. I don't have much to say really. No lessons or pleas or statements, hopes or illusions about war and peace, or ideological definitions hardened by reality.What I know is this: I left Auschwitz more unsure about life than I've ever been. About fear, religion, purpose, truth, everything. I also left Auschwitz more sure about my life than I've ever been. I know I'm living how I'm supposed to, I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to, and I know wherever I go from here, I will enjoy it.

I also know that you (yes, you) have to go to Auschwitz.

Post-face: No other pictures on this post because, again, not easy stuff to look at. Proceed to the photo album if you wish.

Kickin' it in Kiev

2010-04-17T06:18:00.000-07:00

Europe! Oh, sweet Europe. I can't tell you how excited I was to finally be in Kiev. Hostels a-plenty, public trashcans, good beer, plentiful coffee, western toilets, interesting architetcture... Kiev did not disappoint. I booked a hostel online and, after a good 45 minutes of trying to find the place, set my bags down in a lovely, quiet place run by three wonderful Ukranian girls. I arrived at 3pm, utterly exhausted, but I figured I shouldn't waste what was left of the day. I walked around the city a bit, marveling at the colorful buildings, looking for something I hadn't seen in 6 months: a synagogue. I found it easily enough, had a look around, and decided to come back the next morning (saturday) for services.

Back at the hostel I met my new roommates, Colin and Josh from Missouri and Seattle respectively.

Josh let me play his guitar, which I hadn't done since a week before leaving Korea. Later, Colin and I went out to see some live Ukranian rock music at a local bar. The beer and tunes were great, the honey and pepper vodka was cheap and harsh. Still, I managed to get to bed early, and I had a good nights sleep, finally, on a comfortable bed.

The next day I woke up and went to services. Geez, I haven't done that since I was 13 years old. It was pretty amazing. I'm not religious at all, but I have a very strong connection with the Jewish community, culture, and heritage. Nothing in my six months abroad was as comforting as walking into that synagogue on Saturday morning. It was as close to home as I'd been since I left. I knew the people, I knew the songs, I even remembered some of the words. I knew the dovenning and the mumbling and the big, bushy beards (I definitely fit in). I'm not religious at all, but it was comforting to be in the presence of those who were, of those who came before me and those who will come after me, of the traditions that connect us all, no matter where we come from or what we believe.

After the service I took a walk around the city. Through parks, green and gorgeous; cathedrals, clean and colorful; up and over hills with fantastic views of the city.

I stumbled upon this amazing stree lined with paintings by local artists.

I followed it for a long while to a gorgeous church perched high above the city, then down a winding cobblestone road back to town. Then, stopping along the main street to sit on a bench and listen to some street jazz, I ran into Colin again. For a city of 2 million, its pretty small. Not really, its a sprawling metropolis, its just the old city that's small, and that's where I spent my time. Anyway, we had some dinner and headed back to the hostel.

Before coming to Kiev there were three things I knew I wanted to see there. One was Chernobyl. Tours cost in the €120 range, which was way too expensive for me, so I decided to pass on that. Besides, I don't really need the radiation. The second was Babi Yar, site of one of the first and one of the largest mass killings of Jews during the second world war.

Today its a park, with a few monuments remembering those kiilled. Unfortunately there's not much to see, or even to feel. Even that feeling of something terrible happened here never came to me. Whether its denial or acceptance, forgetting or moving on, the people of Kiev have turned this blood-soaked ravine into a tranquil place for a Sunday stroll. Not at all what I was expecting, but really everything I could have hoped for. A real and complete transition from war to peace. Oh, and I had the best pizza I've ever had for dinner.

The third thing I wanted to see was the Lavra Monastery. Built originally underground in the 11th century, over the next few centuries this compound evolved into a sanctuary for gorgeous churches.

The caves dug by the first monks became their tombs, which you can delve into if you please. I did, and it was one of the more thrilling, creepy, and strange experiences I've had. There were two almost pitch black passageways underground, each with small santctuaries, rooms where the monks lived, and narrow halls linking them all together. Lining the walls were the coffins of the clergy (the flash really takes away the creepy atmosphere). Above ground, the churches were beautiful and the scenery fantastic. I spent most of the day there before boarding the train in the evening.

While I was in Kiev I found out that the route to Krakow requires a train change in Lviv, Ukraine's "most beautiful city." So I decided to end my stay in Kiev a little early and spend some time there.

Next week on Planes, Trains, and Wagons East: Lviv - Ukraine's most beautiful city?

The One Hundred and Fifty Hour Train Ride

2010-04-14T09:23:00.000-07:00

Beijing has four train stations. Four gigantic train stations. My train left from the West Beijing Railway Station. It was there that I made my first big mistake of this trip. I booked the cheapest ticket I could get. The infamous "hard seat." I decided to skip two of my planned stops in China because, well, after six months in Asia I was ready to leave. So, the ride was from Beijing to Urumqi, the largest city in the Xinjang province of China, and it took 42 hours. These were the longest 42 hours of my life. Theres a lot of people in China so, naturally, the trains are crowded. Especially the cars with the cheap seats. Some people even stood for the entire trip. Not to mention the fact that no one checks their bags. After the overhead racks were filled and bags were shoved under seats and tables, they began setting the bags on our headrests and tying them to coat hooks on the walls.

My seat was softer than the "hard" label implies, but still extremely uncomfortable. Four people were situated around a tiny table, knees touching, practically unable to move. For 42 hours. The girl next to me was nice enough, but the couple across the table were difficult. They brought along their one year old baby.

Let me tell you something about Chinese babies. They don't wear diapers. They wear crotch-less pants so they get used to squatting for the wonderful squat toilets in China. Back in Beijing Sara and I had discussed this phenomenon. We understood how it could be effective outside, but we didn't understand how it functions indoors. Turns out its just the same as outside: babies piss and shit whereever, whenever. On a train. For 42 hours. Also, everyone smokes on the train. They crowd near the smoking section but inevitably they spill out into the main part of the car. For 42 hours. Each stop lasted maybe 10 minutes, but the line to get off the train for a smoke - or in my case just a break from the madness - was so long that I only had about two minutes to breathe the fresh (polluted) air and jump around a bit. I lived for those two minutes. The scenery also left much to be desired. Endless grey city or endless brown desert, with a few desert mountains sprinkled in. A couple of times I wasn't sure I was going to make it, but I did, and now I've got a great story to tell.

Upon arriving in Urumqi, I immediately went to buy a ticket to Kazakhstan and ensure a seat on the next leg of my journey. I wanted to go to Almaty, but as it turns out the railway south was closed due to snow. So I had to go to Astana. And the once-weekly train to Astana left at midnight the following day. No way was I going to stay in Urumqi for a week, so I got the ticket... this time, a sleeper.

I spent the rest of that day and the next walking around Urumqi. Another typical Asian city: loud, dirty, polluted, crowded.

But a few places had some serious charm. I found a few beautiful mosques, and the Xinjang Museum of Regional Autonomy was pretty interesting, with cultural displays of the many, many different people who live in this part of China, as well as a few desert mummies found nearby.

The "People's Park" was also really interesting with live Chinese folk music, kite flyers, and, believe it or not, trees.

An hour before my next train left I got sick, most likely from the previous train ride (China doesn't have any hand sanitizer). I was sooo happy to have a sleeper. For 38 hours. I also met a really nice Kazakh girl named Aliya who invited me to stay with her in Karganda, but I just felt too sick and I needed some time to recover. I shared my room with two nice Kazakh's, Ale and Sergei, mother and son, who only spoke Russian.

I tried to learn a Russian card game with Sergei but I couldn't get the hang of it. The rest of the time I slept and felt generally horrible. For 38 hours. Not much to look at outside on this ride either. Once the desert ended the steppe began and it was endless flatland with the dead grass of winter. But oh my god there was a sunset without the haze of pollution. I hadn't seen one of those for a while.

In Astana I wanted to accomplish two things: get better, and get a Russian transit visa. I spent two days in my hostel in the train station reading, eating when I could, and sleeping. The third day I ventured out to get my Russian visa which cost a fortune. While waiting I walked around the city with a really nice German guy I met at the hostel and had some delicious Kazakh food because I could finally eat again. Astana is a very pretty and very new city. Also very wealthy.

Russian visa in hand, I boarded the train for Kiev, Ukraine the next day.

I was finally ready to enjoy the train ride. Again I had a sleeper, and I was the only one in my compartment which slept 4. For 72 hours. Mostly steppe out the window again, until we got to the rolling hills of Russia.

But Russia brought a set of problems. When I got to the border with Russia the Kazakh border officials told me, what I already knew, that the train left Kazakhstan, went to Russia, came back into Kazakhstan for 200km, then back to Russia, then Ukraine. I told this to the embassy in Seoul and they said a single entry visa was fine. The border officials said I would have to get off the train at the next border crossing. They said they could help if I gave them money. I didn't have much cash so I said no.

During this time I met another German guy who was the only other person on the train who could speak English. He seemed nice enough, told me he'd rode this train many times and that often bribes are necessary. He lent me a bit of money just in case I needed it at the next border. Before we reached the border I befriended some Russian officials who were riding the train by giving them some "souveniers" (a pen from America, and one from Korea). I don't know if it was with their help or not, but there were no problems at any of the borders from there on. Speaking of border crossings, they all happen between midnight and 4am, and they take several hours.

Its very scary to be woken up by large men in uniform demanding to see your passport.

Later on this German guy started to give me the creeps. He talked about how Polish people were horrible theives, and so were Ukranians. I helped him with his bags in the train station once we got to Kiev (he had like 5 huge bags for some reason) but I was happy to be rid of him.

Anyway, 72 hours later I arrived in Kiev, exhausted, hungry (I didn't bring quite enough food), and with a head full of Daniel Quinn's thought provoking views on life, as his book My Ishmael kept me good company on the train. That's right folks, one hundred and fifty hours of trains in one and a half weeks. I couldn't wait to get to Europe, and now that I'm here, I couldn't be happier.

The Beginning in Beijing

2010-04-13T02:05:00.000-07:00

True to my word, I left Seoul on a boat headed for Tianjin, and my much talked about journey had begun. Towards the end of my stay in Korea I was seriously questioning my desire to avoid flying, especially considering my only real phobia is of large bodies of water. But, I put my head down, powered through, bought a ticket, and boarded a huge motherfucking boat for China. It was everything I had hoped for. Nice beds, a smooth ride, time to relax and reflect on time well spent on the other side of the world. And the sea is beautiful. At night, when it was ear-numbingly cold, I went out on the deck and saw complete blackness, except for a few dots of light on the horizon and the wake of the boat.

We also sailed under the longest bridge in the world, the Incheon Bridge, completed just a few months ago. Very cool.

When I got to Tianjin I boarded a bus to Beijing. I thought the ride would take an hour or so, but it ended up taking three. Once in Beijing, I managed to negotiate a taxi ride and by nightfall I had met up with my step-sister Sara, her husband Petri, and their 2 year old son, Emil. They live in a really cool studio where Sara is getting schooled on architecture. One of her classmates put me up in a hotel room he wasn't using in their village. The village, Cao Chang Di was easily the coolest part of Beijing for me. A small village on the outskirts of the city, Cao Chang Di is home to a thriving arts community along with a hard working local community trying to avoid being sucked up into the gigantic vacuum cleaner that is Beijing. I spent a few days biking around the area, eating at the small restuarants, hanging out with Sara, Petri, and their friends, and soaking up the lifestyle.

Petri showed me a really great view of the city from the top of a landfill, where we also found many kids playing. In the village at the foothills of this landfill I had one of the best meals of my life, and I got it simply by pointing blindly at a Mandarin menu.

Right next to Cao Chang Di is the center for contemporary art in the arts center of China: 798. 798 was at one time a factory complex, and now houses the most intense consentration of art galleries I've ever seen. I spent a whole day walking around the place and I'm sure I didn't even hit half of the galleries. I find most contemporary art to be strange and silly, but there was also some really cool stuff there.

One of my days I spent with Petri and Emil walking around Tianamen Square. It's not that easy with a two year old, but aside from the incredible scale of the place and the awe-inspiring feeling I got from standing in front of the seat of government of the biggest and most powerful country in the world, it was relatively unimpressive.

The National Museum of China was closed, and the Forbidden City, while gigantic, is not so very different from many of the temples I saw in Korea. Though, if you were going to visit only one, I'd say this is the one to see. Also, there are so many reasons to call it the "Forbidden City." First, locals have to show their passports to get in and some were denied entry. Second, theres like 4 gates to get through before you're in the city itself. Third, theres so many people there that you can barely move. Fourth, the ticket office is no where close to the entry way and its not easy to find. I could go on, but I won't. This is how I've found most of the touristy stuff in (developed) Asia: too many visitors and not enough satisfaction.

The Great Wall was different. It is one of the few places I've seen that has lived up to its billing. Of course, that may be because I didn't go to the touristy part. Theres about 6 sections to choose from around Beijing, and I chose the furthest from the city. After I found the bus station, thanks to the help of two German guys, a mini-bus driver picked me out of the crowd and asked if I was going to Simatai, which was the section of the wall I wanted to see. Two hours later I was climbing a ridiculously steep section of the Great Wall, unrestored, and with very few tourists.

The views were stunning, even in winter, and the scale of the wall was amazing, exciting, terrifying, and... confusing. There was no way this wall could hold up against an assault. It merely added 10 or so feet to the tops (and bottoms) of 2000 meter high mountains, making them essentially 2003 meters tall with semi-flat places for soldiers to stand. Effective or not, that anyone could construct this thing is absolutely astounding.

My impressions of Beijing were mixed. It is a huge city with an incredible number of people, many of them extremely wealthy and many of them extremely poor. The city itself I did not like. Too big, too many people, too much pollution. Basically its your typical developed Asian city, and I had had enough of that in Korea. Once you step outside the fifth ring road, though, it gets interesting and fun. The small villages give an insight into what I think is, or what used to be, real China, and I am so glad to have stayed in one of the last remaining vestiges of that culture in Beijing.

Next week on Plains, Trains, and Wagons East: The Hard Seat - Curse, or Death Curse?

Real Time Update: I've just arrived in Lviv, Ukraine after four wonderful days in Kiev.

The Last Week

2010-04-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ok, first of all, apologies all around. My last week in Korea was extremely hectic. Combine that with the fact that China and Kazakhstan do not like blogging, and you have a long stretch of inactivity on what I assume is the most interesting thing you've ever read. I'm sure its been tough, but its all over now. I'm in Kiev, Ukraine and I can blog again.

So let's catch up.

My last week in Korea was incredible, for so many reasons. I went out with friends almost every night to celebrate and/or mourn my departure. It's a great feeling to see different people every night and know that you have amazing friends who will miss you as much as you will miss them. And I know it won't be the last time I see most of these folks... I'll make sure of that.

Takkalbi...

...with the fellas.

Also, in the social arena, I met an awesome Korean girl named Sunny. We hit it off and spent a lot of time together during my last week. I kinda wish I had met her earlier on, but at the same time, we both knew the score and it made our time together that much more gratifying.

And then there's the kids. It's hard saying goodbye to one thousand kids. Although I think its easier than saying goodbye to just a few. Either way, my last week at work consisted of the usual parade of classes, but this time, everytime, I had to say goodbye. Every class had a few students that I knew well and it was tough to say goodbye to them. There were so many shocked a disappointed faces (the Korean teachers made me wait to tell the students I was leaving until our last class together). When the class ended, after I had taken pictures, there were hugs. Lots of hugs. I never realized how much the kids liked me. As sad as it was, it was also the most gratifying experience of this entire Korea experiment, and I had it 6 times a day for a week. Pretty cool.

My 6th grade girls.

4th graders

Other than that, my last week was pretty normal. Packing, booking tickets, saying goodbye to teachers, getting supplies for my 3 month trip... you know, the usual.

It was a strange feeling leaving Korea. The fact that my last week was so amazing made it much more difficult. That, along with intense emotions across the entire spectrum, made me second guess my decision to leave. But now that I'm gone I know I made the right decision. I'm going to remember and miss Korea, my kids, and my friends for the rest of my life.

One of the worst feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that you've left a part of yourself somewhere far away. One of the best feelings I've ever experienced is the feeling that there is a part of yourself alive somewhere far away, somewhere you can visit whenever you want if you just close your eyes.

The De-Militarized Zone

2010-03-14T01:09:00.000-08:00

This is usually the part where I make fun of the fact that people were worried about me going, cause I'm generally an asshole to people who care about me, but strangely enough I don’t have to do that this time. Not because it was dangerous and the worries were justified – the complete opposite in fact. South Koreans, the people who live in the shadow of the most heavily fortified border in the world, many within a few kilometers (Seoul of 10 million people within 50 km), did all the making fun for me. I went with a meet-up group of fellow foreigners, and upon arrival at our first stop along the DMZ, found a relaxed atmosphere and an amusement park. That’s right. An amusement park. No one was using it, of course – why come to the DMZ for a roller coaster – but it was there, not 100 meters from the fence. Along the fence we saw a grand total of two soldiers in a guard post. This place, mind you, is where the only train entering the DMZ from South Korea travels across “Freedom Bridge.” This was the touristy area and, fortunately, not our only destination.

The next stops showed more of what makes this area one of the tensest in the world. We went inside two tunnels supposedly dug by the North Koreans after the armistice in an attempt to launch an invasion if necessary. Four such tunnels have been discovered along the DMZ, each of which are capable of funneling 30,000 troops into/out of North or South Korea per hour. It is strongly believed that more tunnels are out there.

Inside these tunnels I learned the most valuable lesson of the day: Hard hats work wonders. Those Koreans that dug the tunnels were quite short, and I was forced to trek through the tunnels hunched over. My back still hurts. Of course I still managed to crunch my hard hat against the rock many, many times. My head never hurt.

We also hit a couple of observation towers. One was located at the thinnest part of the DMZ which averages around 4 km in width between the two countries.

From there we could see a North Korean outpost, and through some great binoculars, the shape of a North Korean soldier.

Another stop was an old train station that used to operate along a rail route that would have connected the two Koreas today, but in its day serviced the one and only Korea, under Japanese occupation that is. Near the station were the remains of a train bombed out during the war.

Our last stop was a North Korean “Labor building.” Labor, of course, meaning torture. This building, also bombed out but still standing thanks to some South Korean efforts, was an eerie reminder of the horrors of war. More so than bombed out trains or fully functional tunnels, this building screamed of atrocities as loud as its former inhabitants. Though empty, it has the presence of something horrific. The broken, bullet-riddled stone spoke of terror, the silence in which it stood echoed screams of the past, and the blue sky against which it shone embraced flames of malice emanating from the efficiently organized structure.

This is usually the part where I would comment on the whole North-South situation, the US continued involvement, Bush, Kim Jong-il and the like. But I won’t. I still don’t know enough about what happened and what continues to happen. All I know is that so many people, on both sides of the fence, want the same thing: reunification. And so do I. All Koreans deserve it, and, hopefully, it will happen soon.

The Visas and the PICTURES!!!

2010-03-01T02:13:00.000-08:00

So I’m sitting here in the dark listening to Paul Curreri’s I Can Hear the Future Calling. I’m in the dark because my overhead light has gone out and I have no idea how to ask my landlady for a new bulb. Hopefully I’ll get that figured out tomorrow when I go into work. I’m listening to that particular song for a few reasons. First, I love and miss Paul Curreri. Second, when I was looking through iTunes I decided that the title fit well with what I wanted to tell you all.

I got my visa for entry into Kazakhstan today. A week ago I got my Chinese visa. That’s two of the three visas I need to have beforehand to legally enter the countries through which my train will travel on the way to Paris. The third, Russia, I couldn’t get today because today is a Korea holiday. It celebrates, I found out from my wonderful coffee shop friends Jenny and Jennifer, a private in the Korean army, a woman, who fought admirably against the Japanese invasion a long time ago. Thanks, Ms. Whoever-you-are, for prolonging my visa quest. Fortunately, I can get it in Kazakhstan if I run out of time here in Korea.

Here’s how the journey maps out so far:

Ferry from Seoul to Beijing
Beijing – Xian – Dunhuang – Urumqi – Almaty, Kazakhstan – 4 day train to Kiev – Krakow – Budapest – Prague – Amsterdam – Paris (meeting my dad) – Venice (meeting my mom) – Naples/Sorrento – Rome – ?

If you can think of any other interesting stops along that route, let me know.

The past few days I’ve been more nervous than excited. I’ve never done anything like this before. Two months is a long time to travel alone. It would be so great to just come home and start a settled life. But then I got my visa. Just seeing that piece of paper in my passport, knowing I can visit a place I know nothing about, got me all excited again. I can do this, and I’m going to.

Anyway, if you’re still keeping up with my blog you’ve been extremely patient. I know pictures are the real reason you tune in, so I shall indulge you.

My Neighborhood and Shopping Center

My Playground

Ajjumas in my coffee shop

My Kiddlies working on Banner in the Sky, my favorite book as a kid.

My Buddy, we'll call him Mr. NotSoju, and I playing cards and drinkin' beer in Family Mart. A favorite passtime.

(If you're reading this, we need to Takkalbi soon)

Another palace, the biggest in Seoul.

One of Seoul's ridiculous subway rides. We need a new plague.

The Best Moment Ever

2010-02-16T22:06:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I just experienced my new best moment ever in Korea. I got out of work at 12:15 today because camp has resumed. After trading in my school slippers for tennis shoes I headed down the street for some gogi mandu, or steamed meat dumplings. I was immediately surrounded by about ten of my youngest students. One girl, speaking the best English, was a 3rd grader who I hadn't taught, but she recognized me from the morning announcements. I'll be teaching her for a month when school starts again. Anyway, I lead them to the dumpling place, bought them all gogi mandu and enough chopsticks to go around (they were all so impressed that I could order in Korean), got a table on the sidewalk, and watched them scarf down the entire box in ten seconds. It was pretty cool.

The Notice (another post without pictures)

2010-02-16T02:13:00.000-08:00

Five more weeks. That’s it. No more, no less. In five weeks, to the day, I will be on a ferry crossing the East China Sea between two of Asia’s great capital cities: Seoul and Beijing. One will be the beginning of a dream. The haze of a coming sleep barely noticed behind closed eyes. A thought peeling from vividness, becoming more and more real, but not quite. The other will be the end of an experiment. The last number entered in a spreadsheet of incomprehensible data giving meaning to everything that came before it. A deep exhale screaming of wild success or surmountable failure born from pieces of an idea held together by questions. The twinge of a smile crossing your lips as you lay in the dark knowing that, for better or worse, you did something great.

In between there is time. There is always time. To think, to reflect, to plan, to hope, to excite, to realize. Time to yourself to understand where you were, where you are, and where you’re going. And I’m going to need as much of that time as I can get. Twenty-four hours should do the trick.

Last week I gave my notice. I was nervous about it for so many reasons. I hate confrontation. I’d also heard bad stories about vengeful principals firing foreign teachers instead of allowing them to finish out their sixty days; of withheld pay due to teachers having left the country before payday, etc. But I had faith in my manager. She’s been amazing so far, and I trusted her. And she came through in fine style. She managed to control my traditional and often angry principal, and said she would do her best for me while I was still here. I will do the same for her.

Since then everything has been wonderful. I’m noticing everything I’m going to miss when I’m gone, and appreciating where I am all the more. Last week was graduation and at one point they were showing a powerpoint of all the 6th grade graduates, their names, and their goals. I couldn’t read it because it was too fast, but I knew almost every single picture. I knew my kids. Not three months ago, when I passed a young person on the sidewalk, I would cringe not knowing if I’d seen them in class the day before until they said “Hi, Teacher!” Now I’m the first to say hello. I know my kids, and that’s not an easy feat when you have a thousand of them (no, that’s not an exaggeration). I know my friends. I know my streets. I know my pool, my restaurants, my servers, my cooks, my kitchen, my city, my subway, my Seoul. And as much as I’m ready and wanting to leave, I’m going to miss all of it. Every missed train, every botched order, every last drink that made my stomach cry, every night I spent wondering what the fuck I was doing with my life. It’s pretty amazing what I’ve done here, how I’ve lived here, how I’ve been successful here. And I still have five more weeks!

Yet I can’t wait to leave. The trip I’ve been planning for going on three years now, though it’s changed form countless times, is just five weeks away. Three months of travel, starting with a twenty-four hour ferry ride from the docks of Korea to the coast of China. Then it’s Beijing to Paris on the train. The Pacific to the Atlantic without flying. Think I’m crazy? YOU’RE SO STUPID!! If everything goes according to plan, I’ll be staying with my step-sister in Beijing, meeting my dad in Paris two months and eight countries later, then (hopefully) touring Italy with my mom. After that, who knows. All I know is I wouldn’t be ready for Beijing without Seoul. I’m so happy with what I’ve done these past six months. I might not have enjoyed every moment, but no one does. I might have hated my job with the passion of a thousand exploding suns, but everyone does at least once in their life. I might have wanted to kill myself at some points (figuratively speaking) but we all do. But what I never, ever did, was regret coming here. And I never will.

The Chicken Truck

2010-01-25T19:44:00.000-08:00

So there’s this truck parked on the side of the road near the subway station. It arrives just before dinner time. In the back, roasting on five spits, are chickens. I’d walked by that truck at least twice a week for three months before trying it. My life has not been the same since. For $9 I can get two perfectly roasted chickens, ready to eat when I get back home. Being the gourmet that I am, I don’t eat them as is. I turn on The Roots and do a little rapping and dancing on the way to the kitchen. Then I carve ‘em up (I’m slowly learning how to do that), dice up some red and green peppers and onions, fry em up with the meat, spice it up with some ground pepper corns and basil, spread it over rice, and top it with a bit of cheese and some Thai sweet chili sauce. It is the best meal ever. And healthy too.

I’ve been cooking for myself a lot more lately. I haven’t had a school lunch in a month, what with winter break and winter camp, so I have to cook. And I’m pretty good at it too. More surprising, though, is that I enjoy it. But lets get back to winter camp. It’s great. I work from 9am to 12:15pm and then I get to go home. I teach the same group of kids all three hours for two days, then I get a new class. They are 3rd graders (the best age ever) and today I taught the biggest group so far: 13 kids. The smallest was four. I make my own lesson plans – animals one day, jobs the other – and I teach by myself. Half of one day is making a bumblebee, half of the other is watching Toy Story. And did I mention I get to go home at 12:15? If only the rest of the year was like this. The good news is this is my 2nd of four weeks of camp. Next week school resumes (but only for two weeks, don’t ask me why, I equate this to Albemarle High School’s need to have exams AFTER breaks) then camp starts again for two weeks.

I’ve also been reading a lot more lately. It started in Hong Kong where I read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Then I came back and read The Kite Runner and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. That was the first book I ever read cover to cover in one day. Now I’m immersed in The Cellist of Sarajevo. Some days after work, at noon, I walk ten minutes to a nearby gym and swim some laps (I’ve also been exercising a lot more lately). On those days, and most others, after lunch I make my way to Sun Bean Coffee shop in the shopping center near my apartment. I order myself up an Americano, two sugars, from my new friends Jenny, the owner, and her assistant, Jennifer – it’s a good thing they look nothing alike – head upstairs to the quieter seating, away from the door (and the cold air that blows in) and have myself a good read. I’ve also been drinking a lot more coffee lately.

I’ve been playing guitar a lot more lately. I even wrote a song. My very first. It has music, lyrics, and a melody. Because the microphone on my laptop is crappy, as all you folks I’ve skyped can attest to, I got a new one that’s only marginally better so I can start recording some stuff. Not for posterity, but for myself, so I can remember what I wrote when the next inevitable long break in guitar playing occurs.

I've been enjoying Korea a lot more lately.

The Trip Within the Trip (Part II)

2010-01-13T23:16:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 5:00am to my alarm and an email saying my flight was canceled. It had snowed overnight, and was still snowing. An hour later, after showering and using up my one free skype phone call to Expedia, I was trudging down white streets to the subway station, on my way to the airport to see if I was in fact going to leave the country.

I got there just in time to make the 9:50am flight they had put me on without my knowledge, which, after running to the gate, was delayed another two hours. Of course, I missed my connection in Beijing. No sweat, thought, I’m a happy traveler (when I’m leaving home, not returning as I later found out). At 3:15pm, after being reasonably stern with a woman behind a desk, I was put on a plane departing at 3:00pm. No, that’s not a typo. Let me take this opportunity to say the Beijing Airport is the most inefficient, poorly constructed airport I’ve ever seen. I had to run the length of at least two football fields to get to my gate – E30, I started running at E25 – and that was only a quarter of the terminal, of which there are three. Fortunately, the plane was still there. Not that it mattered, because we sat in the plane for another two hours while they cleared, not the runway, but the way to the runway. The plane couldn’t back up away from the gate, through snow the baggage carts had no problem with, until the pavement was cleared. I arrived in Hong Kong at my hostel at 11:30pm. Long day.

I did have the pleasure of enjoying a film put out by the Chinese government on my 2nd flight. What a masterpiece. It was about an earthquake, not unlike the one that recently happened in Shanghai, a devastated town, and how its people persevered until the Chinese army arrived to rescue them after overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles getting there. It was hysterical, yet it offered a serious insight into the operations of the Chinese government. It was complete propaganda, saturating the recycled air with communist ideals. Organization, discipline, dependence on the state, the group over the individual. Despite all the propaganda, the Chinese army did in fact save many lives and help rebuild in Shanghai. I couldn’t help thinking of a certain natural disaster in the US in recent years in which democracy and her offspring failed where the communists succeeded. I’m looking at you, Bush and Katrina. My neighbor, a Chinese engineering student, helped me better understand the context of the film. We laughed together.

Day 1: Cloudy. Grey. Hazy. Perfect day to go to the beach, which is what I had planned. Instead I took the ferry to Hong Kong Island and walked around the city. I found a great local lunch joint with a line up the block, so I jumped in. I got two recommendations for wonton noodles, and they didn’t disappoint.

With a full stomach I continued to wander, and I found myself riding an escalator through the city, up the side of a mountain. Thirty minutes later and I was at the top of the world’s longest covered escalator, or so I found out later. All of Hong Kong is riddled with pink signs pointing to touristy things. One nearby the escalator told me I was close to the Hong Kong Zoological and Botanical Garden, so I decided to check it out. It was a nice, quiet park in the middle of the city with a couple of animals in cages, a good place to sit and read.

Then I walked back down the mountain to visit another one of Hong Kong’s parks: Hong Kong Park. Much more visited, it was not as relaxing, but still a nice place to walk around. After that I found myself in Wan Chai, a place charged with nightlife and food. But first, the reunification monument where I learned a bit of Hong Kong’s history (which I will spare you). I had roast pork and duck for dinner. Best meal of the trip. I took the ferry back to Kowloon shortly after and tried to watch the Symphony of Lights, a light show from the Hong Kong skyline, but it was too hazy so I went back to the hostel.

Day 2: More clouds. More grey. More haze. Less beach. More art museum. One of my goals on this trip was to relax, so instead of burn myself out trying to see all the sites in crappy weather I decided to take a slow day. Coffee and a read (at a Starbucks unfortunately) was a good ease into the day. Gave me a little energy to look at some art. I need energy for that.

The Hong Kong art museum is not all that impressive. Mostly jewelry and pottery from old China – there were some astonishing Ming vases though. And paintings. Some of the paintings were great. After finishing up at the museum I headed to Temple Street Night Market across the city.

Interesting wares, mostly for tourists, and lots of open air restaurants. I sat down at one, had some delicious food and cheap beer, and people-watched for a while. A little excerpt from my journal:

“Hong Kong, like Seoul, is a city on the move. Everyone going everywhere as fast as they can. Not me though. I stroll while people fly with purpose. I meander while they scurry. I take it in while they tune it out. I guess I’m just a small(er) town kind of guy. At least I’m used to it, though. Four months in Seoul will do that to you.”

Day 3: Still cloudy, grey, and hazy, but it was time to get out and see some sights. Let’s get some geography down first. The Hong Kong you’ve heard of is Hong Kong Island, home to the famous skyline. Then there’s Kowloon, the poorer district on mainland China opposite the Hong Kong skyline. Then there’s the New Territories including many outlying islands as well as some land further into mainland China. Day 3 I went to the largest island in the New Territories, Lantau Island. A giant Buddha lives there. I took a cable car ride across the mountainous island, a ride made much more interesting by the haze, to visit him.

And yeah, he was giant.

Next I headed to Tai-O fishing village on the other side of the island. Known as the Venice of the orient, it is a very old, poor village mostly on stilts over the water. A beautiful place, even in the rain that began to emerge from the haze.

SoHo, an upscale glamour district on Hong Kong Island was on the menu for dinner. Another night ferry ride before bed.

Day 4: Finally, a break in the haze. Still cloudy, but I was going to take advantage anyway. Repulse Bay Beach on Hong Kong Island was the choice for relaxation. Sand, water, music, Subway (shut up, they don’t have Subway in Korea and its my favorite thing ever) and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy made for a relaxing day.

Since I was close I decided to check out Stanley market which turned out to be completely for and mobbed with tourists. I didn’t stay long. Instead I found a beautiful rock outcropping and sat for a while. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit and think. I made it back to Hong Kong Island in time to head to the Peak at the perfect hour. The Peak is home to one of the best views of the city, and I caught it just as the sun disappeared. It really is a beautiful city at night.

Day 5: SUN!!! It was almost like seeing it for the first time. Perfect day to hit some more beaches and do some hiking. I went to Llama Island for that. Curried Grouper at a little island town propelled me along the trail to beach #1 where I sat down and started reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Then more hiking to beach #2 where I read some more before heading to the only other town on the island where I ate dinner on the water.

A couple ferries took me back to Kowloon where I sipped some hot chocolate and read some more before retiring.

Day 6: My last day. Headed to Sai Kung, a town on the coast of mainland China, because it was sunny and I thought there were beaches. The sun quickly faded behind clouds before I reached Sai Kung and found there were no beaches around. Oh well, I walked around for a bit, then headed back to Kowloon to a Starbucks with an open-air deck on the water looking across at the Hong Kong skyline. I stayed there the rest of the day, enjoying the view, the air, and finishing my book. And what a book it was. Seriously. Read it. I watched the sun fade again – this time below the horizon – and the lights of the skyscrapers come on almost simultaneously, cutting through the approaching darkness.

Then I headed back to Temple Street Night Market for some souvenirs and some Dim Sum. Delicious.

Then I came home. Home. Korea. It’s strange when your home isn’t your home. It’s strange how leaving a home that isn’t can make it feel more like one.

Hong Kong Hilarity

2010-01-11T06:42:00.000-08:00

Ok so I'm back from Hong Kong. Just got back tonight. I'm too tired to write any kind of in depth summary or narrative or what-have-you, but I'm awake enough to show you some of the hilarious signs I saw throughout the city. Mostly I'm posting this now because I'm talking to Sam and he's bored at work and this will make him laugh. Shut up Sam.

But why not?!?

Sign me up!

The sign reads "No Climbing. Thank you for your cooperation." This sign is next to a monkey.

What an idiot.

I never even went to people youth camp.

I wonder if they're coming from the Lamma Youth Camp? Yes, this is a fart joke. It's also the name of the wind power station on Lamma Island.

Really?

Which one, which one? Good thing they're in the same direction. I feel like these signs should not be on the same post.

Beijing Airport is responsible for this one. This was the only thing in that airport that made me smile. Worst. Airport. Ever.

I don't know what this is, but I hope its a restaurant.

My favorite.

Today's hilarity brought to you by:

The Trip Within the Trip (Part I)

2009-12-31T00:44:00.000-08:00

I’m going to Hong Kong. Fuck money, right? As the infamous Zero Mostel said in one of my favorite movies, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it, baby, flaunt it!” So I’m going to Hong Kong. Financial stability be damned. Student loans, I piss on thee. Big trip that I’m trying to save for, I bit my thumb in your general direction… with a little less contempt. Three days off work for Christmas was a welcome break, but I caught a glimpse of what life would be like if I stayed in Korea over my long 18 day winter vacation: episode after episode of Dexter, with a few friendly visits sprinkled in. And probably a lot of drinking and spending money on drinking. On Monday, back at school, after a five minute walk in -10 degree C weather (that’s about 10 degrees F for you US folk) with the added comfort of an ever present wind, I decided it was better for my mental health to get out for a while.

Top choices: Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand. Too expensive. Second choices: Philippines, Shanghai. One was too expensive, the other requires a visa I don’t have time to get. Also, it’s cold in Shanghai. Then I stumbled upon Hong Kong. Having its own government, Hong Kong does not require a visa for entry, and neither does this interesting looking Portuguese settlement nearby called Macau. I had talked about Hong Kong with a friend I used to work with long before leaving, and I remembered thinking it sounded cool. Bonus, or should I say, determining factor: it’s about 60 degrees F there at the moment. And there’s beaches. And mountains. And islands. Not to mention a bustling commercial center around which live seven million people. Oh, and the flight is cheap.

It was not easy to book the flight. Air China’s website wouldn’t work, the Air China office in Seoul closed 15 minutes before I got there (after over an hour on the subway). But finally Expedia came through for me. I’m leaving in four days and I’ll be gone for ten. This is definitely going to be the most spontaneous trip I’ve ever taken. Let’s hope it turns out well.

The Halfway Point

2009-12-25T17:22:00.000-08:00

Well, ladies and gentlemen, a milestone has been reached: the halfway point. Of my job in Korea, that is. Unless something drastic changes, I’ve decided to hit the road earlier than expected. My contract is for one year, Sept. 23rd ’09 – Sept 22nd ’10, and I had every intention of completing that contract upon its signature. Now I sing a different tune, which speaks nothing of the country or of how much I am enjoying myself. It speaks of my own realizations that have taken place in the brief time I’ve been here. Realizations like “what did you do this weekend?” can not be the most intelligent conversation I have on any given day. Like finding out I don’t have the time or the energy to care about my job and more importantly my student’s education because of how much I teach in a given week. Like the fact that I was planning on giving myself three months off between college and work because I was burnt out on both, and I’m doing a lot more working here than traveling. I guess I knew that was going to be the case when I came here, but I didn’t realize just how much I needed some time off. And possibly the most important realization of all, because of the overtime that I’m working I can save in 6 months what I was expecting to save in a year.

I made this decision a while ago, but haven’t spoken of it for a few reasons. First, nothing is in stone until I tell my manager, and I’m not going to do that until 60 days before I leave as per my contract. Second, I wanted to give myself as long as possible to make up my mind and to allow any errors in judgment to be removed over the course of time. Every day is different. Every day brings on a new perspective on my environment and on life overall. Some days I wake up loving life and go to bed wishing I was somewhere else. Other days I wake up hating the world and lie down at night with a whole new respect for it. That mental rollercoaster has pretty much subsided as I’ve carved out a nice life for myself here, but what ups and downs still do exist come by week and weekend.

Weekends are wonderful. I used to be a tourist on the weekends, but now I have enough of a social network where that is no longer necessary. Late nights with beer, friends, and good television is how it usually turns out, and I go to bed wanting to stay here forever. Then Monday comes with a renewed sense of discomfort. First up, teaching a 10 minute lesson on “What school do you go to?” “I go to Cheoncheon Elementary School,” or other various five-six word dialogues, on camera in front of the entire school. With my day already completely ruined, I arrive late to class due to the principal’s ridiculously long morning speech on the announcements before my “lesson”, and jump headfirst into a new lesson plan which inevitably fails in one way or another. Thirty or so classes and countless repetitions of “Is this your cap?” “That’s too bad” or “What do you want to do?” later, I finish the week with only enough time to walk myself through what the god-awful textbook has planned for my next embarrassing week. The material is absolutely horrific, and I like to think I would make my own lesson plans if I had the time. All of this by now has become routine and much less painful, but it’s a routine I still dread every Sunday night. I’ve got eighteen days off starting on Dec. 31st and I sorely need all of them.

Unfortunately, because I’m leaving early, I need to save all my money for the big trip that I’ve been planning for three years, which is to start when I leave Korea. Therefore I can’t really afford to go anywhere over the break. That could change if I can find a ridiculously cheap flight to someplace warm, or get so bored I don’t care about money and hop a ferry to Japan. Regardless, I’ll be leaving Korea for good on March 23rd, or a week or two later (depending on if I can squeeze out a few more weeks of salary + overtime). That makes January 23rd my notification date. I’m really dreading telling my manager because she’s been great to me, and so has everyone else at my school, but sometimes I have to do what’s best for me.

It’s not all bad, though. I’m a celebrity at my school and in my neighborhood as well (mostly because that’s where all my kids live). I can’t walk two steps without someone yelling out “Hello, teacher!” or “Engel teacher!” I thought that would get old after a while, but it really hasn’t. Provided I’m not out of breath from walking up 5 flights of stairs and grumpy from my morning fog, I love it. And these are kids who usually bow respectfully to their Korean teachers, hoping they won’t really be noticed. I think they like me. Some kids come by just to talk, which I’m not great at, but learning to enjoy. I have to walk through a neighborhood of 15-story apartment buildings to get from my apartment to the shopping center, and I rarely make it one way without being accosted by one of my kids, amazed that I’m a person who exists outside of school. I remember the feeling. If they have food, they always offer it to me, and I never turn down free food. On the other hand, sometimes six of them ambush me walking home with a pizza and demand some. I often think I’m heartless because I don’t give them any, but then I remember I’m hungry.

More reasons for leaving early… You just can’t beat April, May, and June as months for travel. My step-sister will be studying abroad in Beijing, which is where I’ll be heading immediately. Both my mom and my dad want to take trips abroad in the spring, and I’ll hopefully be meeting up with them in Europe at some point. It’s freakin’ cold here now, and in the summer it’s going to be freakin’ hot and my apartment has heat but not air conditioning. Having a routine here makes me miss my old routines on the homestead. I miss my family.

Reasons for staying… I have a lot of friends here, more so than I did back in college. Funny, I also drink more here than in college. I hope that’s a correlation and not causation. Anyways. The money is incredible. I mean incredible. And good luck to me finding a job when I get back home. There’s a lot of Korea I haven’t seen yet. Public transportation is GREAT! I really do enjoy some of my kids, when I don’t have to teach them.

All that being said, I think its time to move on. I’m three months in and I’m already itching for the next leg of my big trip. The fact that there are seven huge world maps around my classroom that I have to look at every day does not placate my wander lust in the least. Still, I have another month yet to decide, so any input would be helpful (THAT MEANS LEAVE COMMENTS PLEASE).

Merry Christmas and a Happy Passover, everyone. It’s been 4 months to the day since I left Charlottesville. I’ve traveled a lot, seen a lot, done a lot, and learned a lot, but I’ve also missed a lot. And I’m still missing. You.

Oh, and if you happen upon any teachers from my school, please don’t mention any of this.

Oddities

2009-12-10T00:15:00.000-08:00

Here are some of the stranger thing I experience on a daily basis. Laughter is encouraged, but only because I can't see or hear you laughing at me. Enjoy.

There’s a typo written in irremovable ink on my English classroom wall – “World Famous Beauty Spofs.”

Chocolate did not encourage my students to participate. It did, however, encourage me to eat it in front of them.

I wonder if my kids know Sanford and Son. If they don’t, they certainly know the theme song because that’s what I sing to them all day.

Yelling really loud with a booming, bass voice will instantly quiet and scare the shit out of a room full of 40 students. Cracking up as a result reverses that effect.

No baseball bats in the classroom, therefore plastic tennis rackets = bats as props for role play. Line: “Is this your bat?” “Yes it is!” No, it isn’t. It’s a tennis racket and it belongs to the school. What the fuck am I teaching these kids?

My mouse-wheel squeaks.

My pointer lost a finger.

My hair broke a set of clippers.

I never thought I’d utter the phrase “You are going to sit quietly while I have my coffee.”

I accidentally changed the language on the copy machine from Korean to English. I couldn’t figure out how to change it back.

I couldn’t figure out why my good students who volunteer in class were angry when I gave chocolate as incentive to the students who wouldn’t, and not to them… until I actually spoke those words out loud.

Korean apartments are heated by steam pipes running under the floor. As a result my clothes are warmer than I am at night. I’ve never had a better reason to clean my room.

The 3rd floor of my school is an “English Only Zone”. My classroom is on the 5th floor. Something is amiss but I can’t figure out what.

In Korea X’s and O’s as symbols mean the opposite of what they mean in the U.S. No wonder my love is unrequited… I’ve been sending it out all wrong.

The Temple Stay

2009-12-08T00:19:00.000-08:00

Revitalized with tired eyes and energized by pious cries,
Arrived to bind the conscious mind with unknown thoughts always left behind.
The shrine was lined from side to side, with bending thighs I knelt beside,
Trying to find a peace of mind, obliged to rectify self with divine.
Enlightened, surprised, mystified and clarified.
Glorified, deified, sanctified, and spiritualized.
I left the alpine shrine mesmerized, with a refined new thinking of the sublime.
The life of a monk on Buddha’s time collided with this little mind of mine.

And now for what actually happened. I had no intention of going on this trip. I didn’t have the money. Then I got offered a free spot on the bus because it wasn’t going to be full. So I jumped at the chance. It was a trip to Gyeongju, a place I had been wanting to go for a while, combined with a Temple Stay, and a trip to Haeinsa on the way home. A Temple Stay is a program allowing you to overnight at a Buddhist temple while participating in the daily routine of Buddhist monks.

Gyeongju was the center of the Shilla dynasty back in the day. It is the most respected religious and historical site in Korea. The Kings of this great dynasty are buried there in huge burial mounds surrounded by flat open fields, the whole of which is ringed by mountains. It’s an absolutely gorgeous place.

We left Seoul at 8am (requiring a 5:30am wakeup time) and departed on the four hour bus ride. Upon arriving, we first toured the aforementioned burial mounds and the famous temple in the area: Bolguksa.

After that we headed the Seokguram Grotto, carved into a cliff side, which houses a very large statue of Buddha, unfortunately kept behind glass.

The temple of the Temple Stay, Golgulsa, was the last stop. Dinner was served as we arrived: rice and Korean vegetables that I don’t like. It was a small dinner even though I was required to eat all the food on my place (or else I would be cursed with nine years of bad luck).

After dinner was Sunmudo training. Sunmudo is a martial art/meditation technique combining the skill of quick, explosive motion with control of the body and breathing. It’s incredibly difficult. I wobbled and stumbled and quietly contemplated my way through the exercise. An hour later I was in bed. You have to go to bed early if you’re going to wake up at 4am.

One of the most amazing things I have experienced is being woken up in complete darkness by the tapping of a woodblock in time with the chanting of a monk, echoing throughout the alpine temple complex. It’s a strange sensation hearing that sound resonate so clearly throughout the world from indoors. I trudged my way up the mountainside to the temple where the service had already begun. I snuck in the back and began to bow and listen. For thirty minutes I sat and meditated with the monks (and many other foreigners), trying not to move or make noise. That was more difficult than I thought, especially with an adorable dog resting on the mat next to me. I don’t know if it was the sleep deprivation or what, but the meditation was indescribably relaxing. When the sitting meditation was over I headed outside for the walking meditation. About ten laps around a religious statue (of some kind) in slow, cautious yet unnoticed steps, in the fading black, followed by a decent down the mountainside at the same pace brought me to breakfast refreshed and renewed. I was there, but I wasn’t. I remember all of it and I remember none of it. Is it possible to be inside and outside the mind at the same time? Do the opposite states somehow cancel each other out a la some ridiculous fundamental algebraic equation? I’ll leave those questions for my next meditation.

Breakfast was a ritual in and of itself. Here it is: Bowl (one big bowl with 3 smaller bowls inside) placed in front of right knee. Set placemat on floor. Put bowl at bottom left corner of placemat. Remove 3 bowls with your thumbs, place them on mat clockwise. Remove wooden utensils from sack, place in the water bowl. Rinse big bowl with water, pour in the next bowl, rise, pour, rinse, pour. Hold big bowl with both hands for junior monk to place in rice. Touch bowl to your head out of respect. Same with soup bowl. Self-serve vegetables. Rinse a piece of Kimchi in the soup to use as a scrub brush to clean the bowls when finished. Eat every scrap of food except that piece of Kimchi. Wash bowls with hot water, rise, pour, rinse, pour, scrubbing with Kimchi each time. Drink the remaining soup of hot water and food remains and eat the scrub. Rinse again with cold water. Pour out the clean cold water, drink the water if food specs remain. Dry the bowls with a rag. Return bowls and utensils to their initial state. It took more energy to have breakfast than I got from eating breakfast.

A brief nap after breakfast, followed by tea, followed by a bus tour to another temple and a trip to the East Sea, followed by lunch, consisting of the same food as dinner, and we were off on the road again.

Before Tea

The East Sea

Destination: Haeinsa. Haeinsa is a temple famous in Korea and around the world because it houses the world’s most complete collection of Buddhist texts. They are carved onto wood blocks and housed in four huge buildings. Incredible how much effort was put into the creation of this text.

We arrived back in Seoul at 9pm and I was home by 10; utterly exhausted yet strangely exhilarated.

The Cliffs and the Insanity

2009-11-19T01:10:00.000-08:00

And now the rest of what I’ve been up to. Four weeks, four weekends, four fantastic destinations since my last pictured post. I’ve got a lot to say, so let’s get down to business. Clear your schedule, this’ll be a long one.

My first trip in Korea outside of Seoul was to Yongin, a city 30 minutes south of Suwon, and home to the Korean Folk Village. I was bored on a Sunday and decided to make the trip solo. The village is a re-creation for tourists, nestled on the side of a mountain, straddling a small river just across the street from the city. The dense fall trees made it seem like the real countryside.

I strolled around the pretty extensive collection of houses, took pictures, watched an old dude do some tightrope walking, and enjoyed the crisp autumn air.

The next weekend was Halloween. Of course, good ol’ Jon came up with an… interesting activity: a scavenger hunt around Seoul. About 15 or so people showed up to this thing. We met at Yongsan Station just outside one of the largest electronics markets in the world. Yeah, I was conflicted as to what I wanted to do: the hunt or the nerd’s paradise. I decided to go on the hunt. So we split up into groups of four to romp around the city, make fools of ourselves and embarrass white people everywhere. Here are some examples of what we had to do: (not my photos)

1. Find a street vendor and cook the food for them. Yeah, I'm churnin' the ice cream.

2. Drink a beer in the back of the bus. The one in the middle is Matt... I'll get to him.

3. Wear a Korean traditional dress (Hanbok). BONUS: Male team member wearing a Hanbok. (my friend Irfan.)

4. Take a picture of a Korean guy with a guitar

5. Eat live octopus (I refused to do this one)

Fortunately for us, one of our group members (Matt) was dressed as a woman, which is apparently way out of the ordinary in Korea as he got stares from about ten thousand disgusted Koreans. Took some of the spotlight off me; I didn’t wear a costume. Halfway through the hunt, though, we all decided we wanted Falafel. So we ditched the list and found an amazing Jordanian restaurant in Itaewon (the international district).

The horse races run year round in Seoul. While that offers me the chance to see the horses on a whim, it also means that the crowd on a cold November day will be interested in betting and nothing else. The middle-aged men on a mission poured out of the subway and led my trusty companion Jon and I straight to the track. And what a track it is. There’s a children’s park in the middle, and it’s got a great view of Seoul to the left and the colorful mountains all around. It also has a foreigner’s lounge where they give out (half-assed) racing forms in English and teach you how to bet. As you might expect, I won my first bet on a 5-1 odds horse, but there was a glitch in the system and apparently I just traded in my 1000 won for a voucher instead of actually betting. Oh, I was pissed. Jon was betting to place on names alone and twice picked the horse with the lowest odds. One won, and one placed. It was a pretty exciting day. The two of us are actually hosting a meet-up event there this Sunday.

And now for the main event. The most recent event. This past Friday Jon and I took the train to Busan leaving at 11:30pm, arriving at 4:15am. This cross-country trip took only five hours; a much shorter ride than I’m used to. After getting in, we went to a Kimbap Kitchen (a cheap place to get good food), sat down, and had some Kimbap as we waited for the trains to start running to take us to our couchsurfer's place. We were trying to figure out what we could do until then.

Busan is a port city on the southeastern coast, jutting out into the South Sea. I thought we should try to find a beach for the sunrise. Jon remembered a place he'd read about in the Lonely Planet (Taejongde), but we didn't think we'd have time to get there. Just as we were paying for our food, a Korean lady working the kitchen asked us if we were headed to Taejongde. She must have overheard us. We said absolutely, and she told us the bus there stopped right outside the kitchen. 20 minutes later we were on the bus, and an hour later we were standing atop huge granite cliffs jutting straight out of the sea watching the sun rise in the distance over Tsushimia, Japan. Yeah, I saw Japan. Easily the most beautiful place I’d been in Korea. By 8am we were back on the bus to get the real trip started. (Resuming my photos)

About halfway down the cliffs. Busan in the distance.

The South Sea. That little (huge actually) rock is not Tsushima. Tsushima, Japan is barely visible beneath the clouds.

We arrived at our couchsurfing accommodations, introduced ourselves, and left quickly to find our trailhead. Of course we were going hiking. Busan is home to Geumjeong Fortress, a huge fortress wall that we just had to climb, with a few gorgeous temples along the way. We took a cable car up the mountain to start our hike. We decided to head for Seokbulsa, a Buddhist temple, first. That walk took us immediately back down the mountain only to walk up another. What we found at the top was spectacular. It was a shrine carved into huge granite rocks jutting out of the top of the mountain with a gorgeous temple built beside it. I didn’t take a picture because it would have been disrespectful, but one shrine held the most Buddhas I’d ever seen.

Back down one mountain and up the other we went, following our route from before. Then we began a six hour trek along the fortress wall. Now, I didn’t sleep on the train. So I was running on fumes at this point. I also didn’t know how long or strenuous this climb was going to be. But the wall just kept going… and going… and going. We would reach the top of one mountain just to watch the trail continue along the mountain ridge, up another steep mountaintop.

Up and down, up and down, for six hours. Yeah, I felt absolutely horrible. Props to Jon for keeping me going and brushing off my complaints. But the views were pretty amazing.

At the end of the hike was one of Korea’s largest temple complexes: Beomosa. Unfortunately we arrived in the dimming light of dusk and in the haze of exhaustion, but it was still beautiful. I also surpassed my most-Buddhas-seen-in-one-room count there, yet, no picture. Respect, oh how I loathe thee.

After the hike we went to meet up with our host at Shinsegae Centum City. No surprise, Korea is home to the world’s biggest mall. This was it. And holy shit, how ridiculous this place was. It had an ice-skating rink. Inside. ON THE FOURTH FLOOR!!! Pure insanity.

Our host invited us to a couchsurfer’s outing in this place. Yet she made no effort to find us and never did. I fell asleep waiting for her. Then, when we decided to leave, it took about 20 minutes to get out of this monstrosity of a building because there were only three elevators servicing all 15 floors. We went back to our place, tired, and angry. The next day we left without saying goodbye.

On the way home we rode the KTX train, the fastest train in Korea, for half of the trip. We topped out at 302 km/h, and I finally got a chance to see what lies between Korean cities. It really is a beautiful country, once you get passed all the metal and concrete.

The Dark Side of the Wall

2009-11-16T04:27:00.000-08:00

Preface: I don't listen to Pink Floyd much, this title just happens to work well with the content. Still, I hope you appreciate my way with words.

Ok, time to play major catch up. For some reason I haven’t posted in a while because I thought I hadn’t done enough to warrant any updates. I was very wrong. Maybe that’s because I was cowering in the newcomer’s depression which had me by the throat after teaching started. The best way to describe it, as cliché as it sounds, is a wall. It’s not a wall that you hit, it’s a wall that exists from the moment you arrive, a wall you can always see and always feel. And no, you can’t climb it. Impossible. It’s too high, and it casts such a shadow in which you forever walk until eventually you begin to feel there is no other side. All you can do is charge head first and hope your mind is stronger than the brick before you. Now, I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think I have broken through that wall. And not only can I see life on the other side, but I can also look back through the hole that I left and see what was hidden, tucked away in that shadow behind me. So here’s what’s recently come into the light:

Forgive the lack of pictures. Only words for this entry. I could make a whole metaphorical and profound statement about pictures and shadows and light but fuck it, just read.

As you know, I was utterly exhausted from teaching, preventing me from hiking or getting much exercise of any kind (unless you consider straining my eye muscles to watch the West Wing an aerobic sport). To remedy this I bought a basketball and started to play most days after school on the sand court at a park near my place. One day I was joined by a sixty-or-so year old Korean man who was looking to get schooled by this hardcore baller. I tore his ass up. Not really. We just shot around for a while in the middle of this deserted park, as far away from the throngs of people as you can get in a Korean city, cheering each other on as best we could in our separate languages.

A different park, on a different day. Just passing through on my way to the Lotte Mart (Korea’s Wal-Mart without the employee mistreatment). Tune in my head, coming from a great night out with Jon in Anyang, looking to pick up some milk for breakfast the next day. 9pm, midnight black, Korea’s famous neon signs only a dim blur down the street. Three of my 6th grade kids pop out from the playground wielding chocolate sticks. Tomorrow was Pepero Day. November 11th. 11/11. The Pepero company decided to take advantage of this day by selling boxes of cheap and delicious chocolate sticks (because sticks look like 1’s) on that day, and only that day. Hence, Pepero Day. My kids offered me one of the boxes they had bought for the celebration. Of course, the day before I had finally become determined to stop eating junk food and start cooking for myself. A test, if you will, from the Korean gods. Whether I passed or failed is beside the point. My kids gave me chocolate. In a park. At 9pm, in pitch blackness.

There are no Korean Jews. None that I or any of my Jewish friends here have heard of. Yes, I’ve already met five other Jewish English teachers. I guess the wandering Jew phenomenon is real. That or we’re all in severe debt. But I digress. The point is there are no Korean Jews that I know of. But all Koreans read the Talmud. Everyone owns a copy. Mind-boggling.

In case you didn’t notice, I don’t do transition material.

Ever heard of Koreans playing Portuguese music? Well, I’ve seen it. I went to a concert with Jon and my new friend Sue put on by the Portuguese Studies department at Hanguk University of Foreign Studies in Seoul. Needless to say I had low expectations going in, and the first half of the show lived down to my billing. The second half, however, was fantastic. One student sang one of the most incredible, passionate, and soulful songs I have ever heard. I don’t really know Portuguese music, but if it’s anything close to what I heard from him, I love it.

Random musings complete. Stay tuned, there will be a quick turnaround on my next entry. As I said, turns out I’ve done quite a bit in the last few weeks.

The Home, the Office, and the Adjustments

2009-10-25T01:26:00.000-07:00

So, it’s officially five weeks into the Korea experiment and I’m just starting to get settled in. Routines are forming, new friendships are burgeoning, work is stabilizing (kind of), and home is starting to feel a little more like it. Oh, and I got paid for the first time last week, even more than expected. Payday makes everything better. So let’s talk daily life.

My apartment is… interesting. It’s the second floor in the back of this building, above a restaurant and below my Korean landlady.

We’ll start with the good. It’s free. Its also about a five minute walk to my school, a seven minute walk to a shopping center, a ten minute walk to the subway, a twelve minute walk to the University area, a 30 minute walk from a beautiful lake (reservoir) park, a one minute walk from a convenience store, and a two minute walk to several Wang Galbi (Suwon’s famous beef ribs) places.

Other than that it’s just a place to sleep. Which brings me to the bad. Well, I say bad, but it’s really just a question of adjustment which, after a month, is approaching normality. First, I have to turn on the hot water and let it warm up for 10 minutes before I use it… every time. That’s not too bad though, I’ve already got a system down. Second, there’s no A/C. That hasn’t caused my any problems thus far because it gets nice and cool at night. We’ll see how I fare in the summer. Last, the bathroom. My toilet, sink, shower, and washing machine are all within five feet of each other and all drain through the same pipe, the shower and washing machine water going through a drain in the floor. Yes, clogging is a problem. This was all a bit of a shock at first, and it’s taken some getting used to. Now, while it’s not my favorite room in the house, it’s become the norm. I should say, I don’t mind this kind of situation while traveling, but I’m just not used to staring down 6 months to a year of less comfort than I’m accustomed to. Which brings us back to the word of the day: adjustment.

My job is… growing on me. The first day was pretty awful. Not that the teaching was especially difficult, but I had no idea what I was doing and it felt like I was the one being taught. Not a good feeling when you’ve got 35 pairs of eyes on you the whole time. The next day and the rest of the week was infinitely better. I learned how to do the lesson after many repetitions and by the end of the week I felt much better about life. My second week was even better than the first. I started to loosen up “on stage” and I’m getting more comfortable acting like a fool, which my kids (4th, 5th, and 6th grade) just love. Also, I met my special class for the first time. The special class is a group of 20 students from all three grades who are especially advanced in the language. They understand my instructions and we can actually have conversations. The only difficult part about that class is that it meets for two hours a day, three days a week, so there’s a lot of lesson planning involved, and I have to take attendance using their Korean names which I never pronounce right. Oh, and they all try to steal the chocolate I give out as incentive when the class is over. So needless to say, I’m enjoying my job a lot more now that I was. Granted, I haven’t taught a full week yet. My first week was 22 teaching hours, the second week was 19, last week was 23, and I’m supposed to teach 34.

My school is… wonderful. My co-teachers are spectacular. They help me out immensely. My handler, Mi-ae, has taken me to the doctor three times, the immigration office twice, and gotten me faster internet, among many other things. She also took me out for the most amazing meal of King Crab last week. Joy (her English name) is a wonderful, strong woman balancing 3 young kids and her full time teaching job while her husband is living about 2 hours away working for a promotion. She loves talking to me and speaks great English. Mrs. Kim is soft-spoken and doesn’t speak English very well, but we get along fine and she helps out a lot with her classes.

My classroom is almost palatial. And the students come in every day at lunch to clean it for me. I’m a lenient taskmaster. Step into my office.

My social life is… growing. Kind of. I’ve met many foreigners through Meetup.com, a website designed to put people living abroad in contact with other people in their area. I’ve gone to a few meet-ups and met some interesting people. I’ve also met some nice people living around Suwon, and I’m making fast friends with the teachers at my school. My teacher buddy Jang and I went out for a hike and some galbi last weekend.

The problem is most days I’m too tired from teaching to do anything social. I just want to run home and collapse in bed. I’ve heard that’s how it is for new teachers… there’s a long adjustment period. Regardless, I’ve done at least one new thing every weekend since I’ve been here. I have not left the greater Seoul area yet, but that will happen soon. I’m planning a trip somewhere to be determined. It’s difficult because most of the things I want to do in Korea take more than a weekend. Traveling becomes something entirely different when you’re working as well. My goal is to find one thing every day that makes me say “wow, I’m in fucking Korea.” I’ve been pretty successful so far.

The Seoul and the Suffering

2009-10-04T23:03:00.000-07:00

Korea. So far? A place of extremes. A place of intense energy and incredible exhaustion. A place of tranquil silence and deafening volume. A place of instant camaraderie and inescapable isolation. A place of deep history and rabid modernization. A place of delight and a place of misery. My first 10 days here were spectacular. My last 6 brought me as low as I hope to sink. Let’s start with the spectacular, after all, I am an optimist.

Actually the spectacular begins horribly. Upon arriving here I met up with my wonderful friend and trustworthy travel buddy Jon in Anyang City. He immediately took me out for chicken and beer and made sure to tell me he was going to order something not spicy because Korean food is some of if not the spiciest food in all of Asia. Without knowing it we got was the spiciest thing on the menu and I was left searching for my stomach by the light of the candle. The next day I went to Seoul for the first of what would be five trips to the city in 10 days. We went to the Asian Song Festival at the World Cup Stadium and saw several pop bands from across Asia, though Koreans were the dominant performers. An authentic cultural experience.

The following day we went for a hike and found this lovely vista. The city in the foreground: Anyang. The city in the distance: Seoul. After the hike we headed to the city again for a walk along the Han River.

Jon had to work the next day so I took it upon myself to do some touristy things. I went back to Seoul and toured Deoksugung Palace, one of the five imperial palaces scattered across the dazzling city. I was incredibly surprised when I got offered a post as Imperial Guard #42. They even had my size uniform. (The uniform and the camera add 30lbs)

The palace was small, gorgeous, and incredibly colorful. It left me with the feeling that I had to see the other four. It took plenty of restraint not to go to them immediately. But hey, I’ve got a long time for that yet.

The National Museum of Korea was next on the chopping block. A huge, incredibly modern casing for some very old and fragile treasures. I had no idea it held my favorite piece of artwork. Of course, I had no idea what that was until I saw it.

I moved into my apartment and into my own Korean life the next day. I have a lot to say about my living situation, school, job, and friends, and you will hear it I promise, but today is for what I’ve done. Mostly I can’t talk about these things because I have no pictures of any of them yet. In due course, of course.

After taking a day or two to get settled into life in Suwon I went to find the cities main attraction: Hwaseong Fortress. Built in 1789, almost the entire structure still stands. It is a fortified wall with several massive gates enclosing the original town of Suwon. It was built by King Joengjo of the Joseon Dynasty as he designed to move the capital from Seoul to my city. I think I am befitting of its grandeur. I took the time to walk the entire circumference of the work of art along the original stone walls. It was the first of many walks to come. I plan to get to know this military marvel intimately.

Later that night I went out with a new friend, a fellow English teacher named Josh, and some of his friends. We got a little trashed, ate some delicious Galbi, talked about the Red Light district in Suwon, and played darts and pool.

Before coming here I had never eaten raw fish. That all changed the next night when I went out again with Josh and a friend from work. They took me to their favorite raw fish joint. The meal was pretty good and the drinks were better. We stumbled upon two other whiteys while trolling for a good bar and proceeded to have a philosophical discussion with them reminiscent of those I used to have with my roommate at JMU. I felt bad for our Korean friend who could not keep up with our English. Enlightenment aside, raw tuna, raw flounder, raw mussels, and raw clams equals sick Seth. Not food poisoning, just my own inability to digest the foreign food and bacteria. So I’ve been incapacitated, bedridden, and suffering for the past 6 days. Just today I reached the point where I can eat real food again. Only fatigue and a cough remain. But there’s nothing like a good physical illness in a foreign country to bring all the homesick feelings to the surface. And once they’re there, they’re not easy to get rid of. I’m working through it though, one episode of the West Wing at a time.

I start teaching tomorrow. I was nervous as hell before this ordeal, but now it just doesn’t seem so bad. I’m even looking forward to it because it will give me an excuse to get out of this apartment and out of my own head.

So there you have it. My Korea. It’s extremes. My extremes. As much as this might be my adventure, I’m starting to realize I’m really just along for the ride.

The Island and the Incomprable

2009-10-01T04:40:00.000-07:00

Oh boy, so much to catch up on. In the blog-o-sphere I’m still in Seattle. In real life I’m halfway ‘round the world. My last few days in Seattle were unforgettable, so let’s start with the aquarium.

Tom, Lizzy, Jory and I went to see the fishies and otters and were surprised by a rare viewing of an octopus feeding. Strangely enough I ate octopus today. It was the school lunch. Anyway, the day on the waterfront with the family was great. The next day Jory and I went downtown, had some amazing curry, and then separated so that I could tour the Seattle public library and take a nice ferry ride.

For those of you who don’t know, my biggest fear is of large bodies of water. I love the beach, but not the ocean. I love islands, but not the trip across the drink. I’ve been getting better over the years, and this ride certainly helped. I wasn’t on water, I was on a huge moving landmass. I was amazed how it was able to dock so precisely. Bainbridge Island was the destination; a small, upscale island about a half hour across the Puget Sound. There I participated in my first wine tasting. What an experience. I had some great conversations with two middle aged couples who had just reached the tipsy stage. I also learned all about swirling, smelling, and gurgling wine from the incredibly nice bartender. Maybe I like wine after all.

After that I went searching for a lake park I had heard about but no one on the island seemed to know. Some helpful island folk pointed me in the right direction and I eventually made it to the park where I found trails that were unmarked and slightly unnerving to be walked alone, so I turned back. Those same locals recommended the Harbor Pub for dinner and let me tell you… you should go to Seattle for that meal alone. Overlooking the harbor, with a view of the Seattle skyline through a field of white masts I scarfed down, but thoroughly enjoyed, an incredible crab melt with artichoke sauce. I can still taste it. (If you’re beginning to notice a pattern, you’re right. I LOVE FOOD!) After that I caught the night ferry back and got to watch this coming at me for 30 minutes… bliss.

For my last two days in Seattle I was underground and under a spell. Jory and I took a tour of the Seattle underground, where the city used to be before it was raised to fix sewage disposal problems. It was spooky, sarcastic, satirical, and scintillating. The following day was Danny Schmidt. I took the whole family out for a night with one of the great Charlottesville musicians who just happened to be playing in Seattle the night before I left. He moved me just as much that night, after countless shows, even singing with a cold, as he did when I first saw him.

I have gained a good deal of confidence recently, which probably was the driving force behind introducing myself to the incomparable songwriter, something I never did in Charlottesville. Something about amazing musicians intimidates the hell out of me. Regardless, after the show I approached and told him I was leaving for South Korea in the morning and that I couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my last night in the US, entangled in family, lyrics, love, and melody. I think he understood my sincerity. Thomas and Lizzy were true champs, taking in and enjoying music well past their bedtimes, and Jory and Chris also had a great time. It was a fitting end to an amazing trip, and I hope the whole family enjoyed their time with me as much as I did with them.

The next day I crossed an ocean.

p.s. Korea is coming. I find with this blog I am living in the past. I’ve got to fix my flux capacitor before I can get back to the future. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Keep a watchful eye. Here’s a little teaser…

The Wicked and the Wicked Awesome

2009-09-12T11:50:00.000-07:00

Let’s start with the Wicked. By Wicked I mean the new musical. For my birthday the family all got tickets to the performance on its second night in Seattle. I had wanted to see this show since I heard about it, so needless to say I was thrilled when I found out. We all got dressed up and went to dinner at a nice Vietnamese restaurant. Then we crossed the street to the Paramount Theater. I know there are Paramount Theaters everywhere, but it still felt a little like I was in Charlottesville again. Anyway, the show was spectacular. The story weaved wonderfully with the Wizard of Oz, and the vocalists were great. Elpheba, the “Wicked” Witch of the West, was spectacular, and her voice should be known across the country.

The Wicked Awesome will take slightly longer to explain. First, Notre Dame trounced Nevada in their season opener 35-0. That would be the highlight of any other week for me, but not this one by far. Later that day I went to Bumbershoot, Seattle’s 3 day music and arts festival, with Olivia.

That night we saw several great bands, including two that left a mark: Eric Hutchinson and Elvis Perkins. The following day was even better. Highlights included stand-up comedy by Sara Silverman and Eugene Mirman (the landlord in Flight of the Conchords) and music by Michael Franti and Jason Mraz. The Black Eyed Peas starred on the third day which was cut short to take Olivia to the airport. She had to be back at school the following day. Tearful goodbye.

With my cousin gone and the kids starting school in a few days, I decided to hop a Greyhound bus to Vancouver, BC. On the ride I met a local named Laura who told me where to stay and how to get there. Boy was she right. My hostel was downtown in the artsy/gay community near Davie Street, as opposed to the other hostels on the party streets or 30 minutes away. I arrived at about 3pm and proceeded to walk around the city until about 9. I walked along Robson Street (the glamour district) and many others before reaching Stanley Park. Let me tell you about Stanley Park. It’s far and away my favorite park.

Surrounded by a Seawall, it’s basically a forest that juts out into English Bay as a peninsula off of downtown. Trails run all through the park, connecting lakes, tennis courts, and lookouts. The best lookout is at the northern-most point of the park and gives a spectacular view of both North Vancouver and downtown.

After walking all around the park, I was headed back when I was called to the beach by the sound of drums. It was a drum circle, and anyone could join. Of course I had to lay it down for the nice folks. I say that, but I really have no drum skills. The guy next to me was a master though. After A few rounds I headed for the hostel, stopping for some Singaporean food before collapsing. Today’s pedometer: 12-15 miles.

As expected, I woke up to the rain. It didn’t get me down. What did get me down was the fact that the hostel was full for the following night, and I had only booked the one I just slept through. After an hour of waiting for someone to give up their reservation, the management figured out there was one bed available… mine. I guess they hadn’t realized that that I was staying in the bed that I was sleeping in, and no one else was. So after I had packed all my stuff to find a new hostel, I went back up, unpacked, and set off for Lynn Canyon. Almost immediately upon walking into the park I came upon a 50m high suspension bridge over a waterfall.

Perfect. A fantastic sight, even in the rain. I hiked around the temperate rainforest for about 4 hours, stopping twice in the park’s café for lunch and for hot chocolate. After hiking I headed back downtown the way I came: Seabus. The Seabus is a hovercraft-looking vessel that crosses the inlet between downtown and North Vancouver, and offers some spectacular views of the city.

Public transportation in Vancouver in general is awesome. Though expensive, I could get anywhere in the city quickly and easily, and by the third day I had the system down. The rain had subsided by the time I got back downtown, so I spent the rest of the day walking along English bay. I caught a sliver of sunset through the clouds while munching on Falafel. Today’s pedometer: about 5 miles.

In the morning I was ready to die. Ready to die in the sense that I was about to kill myself. About to kill myself in the sense that in a few hours I was going to be in intense pain and anguish. Intense pain and anguish in the sense that I was going to really enjoy myself. That, my friends, is the Grouse Grind. A 1.5 mile hike up the side of Grouse Mountain that gains 2750 feet in elevation. Did I mention I had walked about 20 miles in the previous two days? My legs were burning before I even woke up that morning. Nevertheless, I was determined, and when I reached the trail I became even more so. All people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages were climbing with me. Several over 60, one under 7, Asians, Indians, Germans (who set a great pace for me as I followed), and locals, from the best in fitness to the worst in health. I knew I had to finish, and they all helped push and pull me up the mountain. The view at the top was well worth it.

As was the amusement park-like atmosphere that I found at the top. Chairlifts, ziplines, an endangered black and grizzly bear preserve, and a lumberjack show were the main attractions, with a view of Vancouver to the right and Mt. Baker to the left.

The bears were huge and the lumberjacks were world-class, literally. Most tourists took the Skylift (essentially a jumbo chairlift) up instead of doing the Grind. I only took it down.

For some reason no one I asked knew where the Indian market was. I had a general idea so I decided to go searching for it. Found. And on my first try too. Unfortunately it was a disappointment. It consisted almost entirely of clothing stores, and was very run down. So I headed back to my stomping ground on Davie Street. Coming from the Indian market I had a hankerin’ for some Indian food, so I found a place and had a good meal. It’s a good thing I left the market quickly because I was able to catch a full sunset over English Bay, unspoiled by clouds. Today's pedometer: about 5 miles.

The morning of my last day I took a short ferry to Granville Island, which isn’t really an Island, but the ferry was still the best way to get there. The “island” was home to the Granville Public Market which teemed with fish, people, and the smell of fish and people.

I walked around the small island and sat down at Tony’s Fish and Oysters for the best meal of the trip: a Halibut burger, chips, and a Granville Island Lager with the brewery just on the other side of the street. Memories in hand and head, I made my way to the bus station to come home.

Vancouver in summary: I want to live there. I loved the parks, I loved the neighborhoods, I loved the transportation, I loved the helpful, friendly, outdoorsy people, I loved the fact that old couples were strolling and single women were running or walking their dogs downtown after the sky had turned black. I felt safe everywhere. In two words, it was wicked awesome.

The Market and the Mountain

2009-09-02T22:01:00.002-07:00

My nine year old cousin Lizzy made me a cake for my birthday. Well, Jory made the cake, but Lizzy put on the frosting; a real family effort to celebrate my arrival in Seattle and the world on the same day. And what a great day it was. Catching up with cousins Thomas, Lizzy, and Olivia in the afternoon, family dinner with Jory and Uncle Chris in the evening, followed by cake and board games at night. All in all, a great welcome.

I find downtown to be the best place to spend your first day in a new city. Seattle’s downtown is home to one of the most famous markets in the world: Pike Place Market. That was our first destination. Throngs of people choked the halls. Tourists watched the famous fish throwers (though we didn’t see any tosses), townies bough fresh local produce (delicious peaches and plums), hungry folks slipped into crowded seafood restaurants for a bite, artsy folks browsed the homemade craft stands, and all enjoyed the overwhelming smells and sounds of a market come to life.

Ducking into some shops lining the street that absorbed the market overflow, Olivia and I stumbled upon a restaurant I recognized from Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, a show on the travel channel following one man’s nose for great food. Of course I had to eat there, and it did not disappoint. It was a 26 year old Russian bakery called after its famous dish: Piroshky Piroshky. Beef and cheese (or other fillings) were baked inside pastry dough, the sum of which delighted every one of my senses. We even got to watch the master chef at work.

After lunch I found out that sirens are not always beautiful women calmly caressing notes to lure you to your death. In this case they took the form of a homeless looking jug band playing for coins outside what turned out to be the original Starbucks. We listened to them for quite a long time and were only able to loosen ourselves from their grasp by buying a CD and knowing we could hear them later.

Then it was back inside the market for more food. This time at the Athenian, a restaurant that had been in its same location in a world famous market for 100 years. We had to try it, and the crab cakes were spectacular. After we left the market we walked around the city and found ourselves in a lovely coffee shop a few blocks from where we started. A delicious homemade meal and an introduction to Flight of the Conchords for Olivia brought a fitting end to a wonderful first day.

Day 2: Beach day. But first, lunch at the Fiddlers Inn, a local joint. The nachos there (an appetizer) fed both me and Olivia. Lip-smackin good too. I decided to leave the toasted cheese sandwich on the menu for another day. Afterword we all swam in Lake Washington, a five minute drive from the house. Cold water but warm family fun.

And on the third day God said “Let there be hiking,” and there was much rejoicing. Olivia and I drove to Mt. Rainier National Park (see the big mountain), set up camp along White River, and headed for the trails.

As we arrived, the fog cleared and Rainier towered above us, ever watchful, giving us the strength to climb higher and higher. We made it to the top of Burroughs Mountain (7000ft) from which we got an amazing view before turning back.

No, we didn’t climb the whole mountain, we started at 6400ft. We did, however, experience the thin air on the roof of the Cascades while navigating narrow trails carved into the side of the incredibly steep rocky mountainside.

Five miles later we were back at camp and ready to start the fire. Hot dogs, sausages, and smores were on the menu, roasted Chestnut style. The night was long, cold, hard, and brought both of us little sleep, but we talked for hours and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

In the early morning we set off again, this time downhill, headed for some alpine lakes. We found a gorgeous lake nestled between pines, mountains, and dragonflies where we stopped for lunch and for rest. By mid afternoon we were headed home, tired, and sore as hell. Jory greeted us with hot chocolate, a fire (this one in a fireplace), and steaks for later, and we spent the rest of the day telling of our treks and recuperating.

Today I woke up early, unexpectedly so after a tiring two days, and posted some pictures on Snapfish (links in the column to the left). Olivia and I walked to the Wedgewood Ale House for lunch where I had a real Buffalo burger (not the endangered kind, nor the Buffalo wings kind) and a local brew. Again, fantastically delicious. We spent the rest of the day on the shore of Lake Washington and watching more Flight of the Conchords. Yeah, she’s definitely hooked. Oh, and I wrote this. And now you’re up to speed. Ta-da!

Getting There

2009-09-01T19:31:00.001-07:00

So, I made it. And, already, I’ve done so much since I arrived. But first, the ride itself. Three days of trains… turns out I’m not as crazy as you might expect. The ride was, in a word, incredible. The first leg of the journey between Washington, DC and Chicago was just as I remembered it. The green mountains of West Virginia and Pennsylvania disappeared as I slept and gave way to the vast cornfields of Ohio and Indiana after I awoke. I say slept, but really there wasn’t much sleep. I was fortunate enough to have a window seat next to a really nice rising freshman at Knox College named Alec. We chatted about history, books, and more, but as any person does, he took up a whole seat next to me for the entire trip. The nerve of this guy. Anyway, I spent most of the night in the observation car observing blackness while I stretched out among the empty seats there. Fortunately, because I didn’t sleep, I saw the sun rise. Two hours later and we were in Chicago.

Four dollars an hour for a storage locker at the train station makes angry Seth. I reluctantly coughed up the dough for an hours reprieve from the six hour layover in the station and took a stroll along the Chicago River. What a gorgeous city, and what nice people, at least that’s what I experienced. I’ve heard otherwise about the people. The six hours went by in a flash (sarcasm included) and then I was on my way to Seattle.

Mad props to Mary, our car attendant, for giving me a seat buddy for only eight of the 46 hours, none happening at night. So I had two seats to myself both nights, and strangely enough, those seats really helped my back.

I quickly made friends with Mike, a veteran of the US military’s presence in South Korea (’65) and an avid Notre Dame Football fan. I know, it was a match made in heaven. We gabbed about our commonalities and hopped on and off the train together to stretch our legs. Oh, and the sunset over the Mississippi was, dare I say, incredible. (Forgive the reflection, though I think it looks awesome).

Now, if the fields of Indiana are as flat as a pancake, the plains of North Dakota and Montana are like paper. An endless roll of paper. Fields of grain went off to the horizon for miles, and I got lost in them from my seat. Then came the Rockies, as if from nowhere. At first they loom in the distance as mere shadows, growing higher every minute. Then, as quickly as they appeared, I was in their midst, straining my neck to see their peaks. Darkening slopes of Pine lulled me to sleep, and we travelled through most of the mountains as I slept.

Asleep in the Rockies and waking in the foothills of the Cascades could not be more disorienting. The Cascades, though lower than the Rockies, were much more jagged.

They soon fell away and sprung the Puget Sound from their depths. I had arrived. Well, not quite. I only arrived when I jumped into the loving arms of my Cousin Olivia and Aunt Jory.

You might be asking yourself how I entertained myself for those 66 hours. First, I talked with my friendly neighbors. For all the airplane folks out there, you will never travel with as friendly people as you will find on Amtrak. Second, I read. Not only did I read, I learned, I explored, I realized, and I understood the real humanity through the writings of Daniel Quinn in his book Ishmael. I’m not going to go into that except to say: read this book if you want to live. Third, I watched television, namely the second season of Flight of the Conchords, on my lovely new laptop (THANKS MOM!!!). My luck being my luck, the 17 hour train had electrical outlets while the 46 hour ride did not. Oh well, I survived. Fourth, I listened to music. Thanks to Sam and Brendan for all the new music that kept me listening for hours. And last, but most important, I watched the land of this country unfold before me. An unending parchment unrolled outside my window telling the story of this country cover to cover, or coast to coast as it may be. Before this trip, Houston, TX was the only city I had visited west of Chicago, and flying over land, the scroll was illegible. Though I only rode through a tiny strip of land, I feel I understand this country more than I ever have.

More understanding to come as I explore the Pacific Northwest.

A little send-off from my new stomping ground...

The Candy Man

2009-08-26T07:04:00.000-07:00

Posting from Union Station, Chicago, IL on a 6 hour layover between trains.

I'd like to dedicate the second post of my blog to the great John Candy. You might remember him from such films as "Spaceballs" and "Canadian Bacon", and such popular television series as Saturday Night Live (back in the day when it was actually good). You might also remember him from the two movies which inspired the title of my blog: "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles", and "Wagons East." Just as Candy affected my young life by helping to shape my sense of humor and appreciation of good comedy through these films, his work continues to influence my life now and my life to come.

James Harlow, played by Candy in Wagons East, led a team of 1860's prairie schooners across the vast plains of the American West at a time when homesteading and land grabbing was the way of life for the westward-expanding nation. While the rest of the country was moving west, he headed a train of pioneer-quitters back East after they had become tired of the hard life.

I, too, am heading East, and in the spirit of Harlow and his gang, am taking an unconventional road. To reach the East, I'll be heading west.

Here’s where the other movie comes in. In Plains, Trains, and Automobiles, Candy plays Del Griffith, sidekick to the illustrious Steve Martin, as the duo struggles to get home for Thanksgiving. In so doing, they take almost every form of transportation imaginable with various literal and figurative bumps in the road, such as being "stranded in a parking lot in the middle of fucking nowhere with keys to a fucking car that isn't fucking there." I will also be mixing it up on the transportation front, though I'm hoping my travels go slightly smoother. The automobile is first up, taking me from Charlottesville to Washington DC, where I will catch a 3-day train to Seattle. A ferry or bus will then take me to and from Vancouver, BC before I leave for South Korea by plane.

And finally the connection has been made between the title of my blog and my reason for creating it. I have just embarked on my most amazing adventure yet. The destinations are certain; everything else will come as it may. I hope you can keep up, but for now, planes, trains and wagons... EAST!!!

P.S. Please create an account, post a picture of yourself, and leave comments so that I can take with me not only your words but your beautiful faces as well.

My Preface

2009-08-25T07:29:00.003-07:00

Preface to the Preface: I wrote this before creating this blog, but I thought it would be fitting for my first post.

7/29/09

Twenty one years, eight semesters of college, four jobs, three majors, two homes, one overcome addiction, no real girlfriends, and countless reasons to see a shrink have culminated in one undeniable truth: I am a traveler. A “Wandering Jew,” so to speak. Born in Princeton, New Jersey and raised in Charlottesville, Virginia, I have decided to spend the next year or two of my life abroad. Don’t ask me how I came to this decision. It just sort of… happened. It’s not that I have an overwhelming desire to leave the US, nor have I experienced enough of my own country – let alone my hometown – to warrant such thought. To be honest most of my life has been fairly sheltered, not by parents, but by my own inaction. I’ve pretty much just gone through the motions. During my young life I went to school never working for excellence, I went on family vacations (always and only to the grandparent’s), I made a few good friends here and there, I watched TV, played video games, got jobs that paid the bills, and thought about how boring my life was. The most productive thing I did was learn the guitar, something I’m good at and proud of.

College life did little to expand my horizons. Social networking was difficult because I don’t drink, I don’t party, and I transferred in the middle of my second year because of the partying and the drinking. I don’t have ideological reasons for this and I’m not a “straight-edge.” I tried it and just never enjoyed it. I was also too lethargic and unmotivated to join any student organizations. So my old habits continued to plague my new years. Amidst the monotony two important things happened. I found a love for history and I left the country for the first time on my own.

Curiosity more than anything pulled me across the water to Israel. Yes, I am Jewish and no, I did not find God or myself or anything ridiculously cliché. What I found was a different world. A different culture. A different language (several actually). A different perspective. It was something I enjoyed more than anything I had ever experienced. I saw history and culture, I saw war and peace, I saw slander and praise, I saw immense poverty and incredible splendor. What I did not see was myself, or any part of me. Everything I experienced was new, unbiased, and waiting to be understood. I was a blank slate again.

It was amazing how quickly I reverted back to my old life once I returned home. I tried to carry my new found energy and enthusiasm on the plane but that bag got lost in the shuffle. I know, I’m working on my metaphors. With the beginning of the new semester I was sucked back into monotony with only my history books for comfort. So I set about planning another trip. This one to Central America with a good friend I met in Israel. Everything I enjoyed about Israel I found halfway ‘round the world on that tiny strip of mountainous paradise. But again, my old ways surfaced when I came back. This time however, the travel fire was lit… permanently.

It’s been a year since that trip and three things have changed. First, I graduated. HOORAY!!! That’s sarcasm because it feels no different and I’m still a cog in the academic machine as I work for the university from which I graduated. I don’t give myself enough credit though. I worked really hard at a really prestigious school (University of Virginia) and maintained a solid GPA while completing a History major and the Pre-Medical requirements in two and a half years. Okay, credit given, moving on. Second, I lost 40 lbs of pure fat. Its unbelievable really, I look like a totally different person to my own eyes. More important, though, is the third big change. I got a job. I mean a real job, not a summer job, a real job. In a little less than two months I’m going to be teaching English to elementary students in South Korea. Everything I’m doing now, and everything I will be doing for the next months is in preparation for this amazing adventure. It has consumed me. Even this writing I am doing for the trip. See, I plan to keep a blog and/or journal and since I haven’t free-written for years upon years, I figured I could use some practice. And it’s working. I already feel my inhibitions draining away. Anyway, I digress. (Props to Mr. Lindsay my 9th grade History prof. for teaching me that expression)

So here I am, on the cusp of my everything. My new job, my new apartment, my new culture, my new kids, my new language (and theirs too), my new successes and my new failures, my new currency and my new spending spree, my new future and my new past, my new happiness and my new sorrow, my new companions and my new loneliness, my new mountains to climb, my new holes to dig (and eventually crawl out of), my new East and my old West, my new oceans to fear and my old fears to conquer. My new life. Am I ready for it? No. But isn’t that the most beautiful part?