TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES

That's not an option, that's a noun. My grandparents winter in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.

You could blink and miss it, but you wouldn't want to.


Beyond the gorges, mountains and dessert, it's home to

The World's Largest Tiedye Underwear.

TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES, NM // DEC 2012

These were made by an interesting guy named Dukatt. If you have tie dye needs, this is your guy. I wisely decided to take off my leggings after taking this photo for him to work on until morning.

FOUR

My publishing professor always preached that there was something about 4 am- perhaps the cosmos were aligned, or maybe all intention and clean, pure, direct energy and information was allowed to manifest and flow freely. If you woke up abruptly at four in the morning, you should record everything immediately.

It happened again. 4:09.

One thought somersaulted and revealed itself. VOILA!

We exist as humans to be. Just be.

The rest is all nonsense we fabricate in order to make us feel like we are somehow being more, but as far as I'm concerned, we either are or are not.

When I'm worried, anxious or uneasy, I Am Not. I may feel painfully aware of the Now, but I am in the past or in the future. I am certainly not existing in any kind of present state that would afford me the tools to transcend the feeling. I'm searching for blame or hyper-focusing on hypothetical events.

I might as well be on some other planet twiddling my thumbs and back flipping in to mud puddles while aliens run my brain.

But when I Am, nothing is bothersome because it's all part of a moment that I know I can't exist out of. Worry exists outside of this moment. Right now there's nothing. I just Am.

Or hell, maybe this is all jibberish and I should stop drinking caffeinated beverages before bed.

RAINBOW FALLS. BREVARD, NC.

SHAPES

Driving through the mountains I focused. This is full circle. Maybe I thought I had come fill circle before and perhaps I was near, but I wasn't here. This is all the way back. This is point one. This is the physical place of an intense emotional beginning.

I left here hungry. Hungry for change. Hungry for experience. Hungry for space and freedom and transcendence. Aren't those such vague words that we use to explain the nebulous feeling of, "I don't know what I need, but I'm going to get it"?

My pockets are full of life and that makes coming back here so special. I appreciate my progress and journey, and how this place equally cradled and catapulted me.

But yes. I'm here again. And I don't cry much these days but I keep losing water from my eyes. The house I wrote my heart out in. The coffee house I made my afternoon home. The establishments where the waitresses knew my face, my order, my quirks. The streets I wandered, searching for interaction and avoiding eye contact, an irony found in the center of depression.

And now I'm fine.
Yeah.
I'm going to say that again.
Now I'm fine.

I've been dragging myself back to the places that evoke distant feelings because I respect the past. I respect my past because I own the present. It's mine.

Full circle. 360 degrees.
I'm fine.

PACKING: MARA STYLE

Stare pensively into the closet.
Pull out my favorite pair of socks.
Consider the destination at hand.
Take an item off the hanger and fold it onto the bed.
Continue steps 1-4 for 15 minutes.
Look at the massive pile.
Feel regret.
Think, "Man, everything I own is black."
Throw a turquoise scarf atop the clutter. That looks nice.
Add some sweatpants to the pile.
Panic.
Walk downstairs and eat some goat cheese.
Come back and pull one pair of jeans from the equation.
Panic.
Square off a two foot by two foot area on the bed for sitting.
Write a blog.
Leave the house. Packing is nonsense.
Return and throw everything in sight into the bag.
Wear six items for the entire trip.

I always get it in my brain that I'm going to dress differently when I'm on a trip; that I'm going to arrive in a new location and want to invent myself into the kind of individual who likes to wear pretty dresses and hats.

It's official.

THINGS I AM PERPETUALLY BAD AT:
PACKING IN WINTER.

EAST

All-American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop 2 through ???: NORTH CAROLINA and UP.

I've never seen the east coast north of Washington DC (except the five days I spent in New York on my way home from Korea.)

I'm going on a road trip and in the meantime, I get to see a lot of people I'm fond of.

Life update: Everything's unpacked. All of my belongings are in my room. Yesterday was rough.  Lots and lots of pictures, hauled up notebooks and trinkets.

Hot damn do I cherish trinkets.

350 DAYS

That's not a rough estimate; that's an exact number.

I waited 350 days for Utah. I had a plan 350 days prior and I stuck to it. That alone needs documented.

Do you know how pretty Moab is? Man, it's pretty. The colors are barely justified in photos.

The reds. The grayish-blueish-greenish sparkling blanket of bush found in the canyons. The occasional Grannysmith-green tree standing strong amongst the bunch. The mountains tipped with snow.

Moab was lovely. Sleep came easy and the adventures never really stopped.

On the second night I nestled my cold face too far down into my mummy bag and for a brief moment, was confused about where I was. Once I found the air and became fully coherent, I remembered I was sleeping outside. I listened for the tranquil sound of crickets and... nothing.

I haven't been out west in years and whoa - the stillness of the night. I'd travel back just for that.

 

WEST

My backpack is full. All American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop one: UTAH.

I keep snuggling in to my sleeping bag on the living room floor. I'm ready to sleep in the desert.

PHOTO BY // BRITTANY TAYLOR

SPACE // SLEEP

Everywhere I sleep I'm constantly thinking about building personal space. In hostels I'm concerned with where my pack is in relation to my head, how far the ceiling is from my body, how much light is entering my bunk. In tents I'm concerned about safety from the elements, how far my shoes are from the door and where my headlamp is located. In space that affords higher capacity for objects, I need jars to hold my trinkets. I need the lighting to disperse correctly in the room. I need a healthy amount of clutter.

If space isn't right I don't feel aligned. Quality sleep doesn't exist. I don't produce well.

I'm unpacking, chucking t-shirts and spatulas over my head into piles for missions and second hand shops. I don't need these things. I don't know what I need anymore, but it's definitely not toasters.

I was interested in the psychological stand point of coming home, but two days in I feel like there's nothing to evaluate.

Just as I did on the other side of the planet, I'm molding. I'm finding structure in space, which is now my childhood room.

Basically I'm living in a time capsule. Memorabilia from my childhood is strewn all over the walls. I'm adding to the collections, integrating my current life into the physical evidence of where I've been. My necklaces hang on the shadow box that showcases my soccer medals.

I'll sleep here until Thursday, and then I'll head to the dessert and sleep there. And yes, my headlamp will be nestled under my pillow.

REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD

It's been a week. I'd say my return to America has been anticlimactic for the shear fact that it's lacked in chaos and strife.

I'm in my hometown. At the first sight of downtown I pounded my fist on the steering wheel, near tears. The comfort in familiarity. The outline of the city is the same, but I quickly noticed the new apartment buildings, bike lanes and restaurants. This is my city. My family  lives here. My friends live here. I am home.

Everything's going as planned because there's no plan at all.

Right now there's a lot of questions: Where have you been? Where are you going?

I already miss Korea something awful, but the past and the future are equivalent.

I'm focused on this single truth:

YOU CAN'T LOSE WHAT YOU DON'T CLING TO. (BUDDHA)

HOME CAT (POGUE) ON MY HOME BED CIRCA 2010

HOME CITY

HOME RAMBLINGS

Persistent thought in Shanghai:

Have Western men always been this handsome? An Air France flight preceded mine at the gate. Long torsos. Broad shoulders. Five o'clock shadows. Chiseled faces. My eyes don't know where to focus.

Persistent thought in NYC:

My taste buds are going to explode due to sheer delight and boundless taste. Fennel. Sauerkraut. Sunchoke. Truffle. Pumpkin. Pork chop. Dill pesto. Kombucha. Goat cheese. Halibut. Toasted sage. Souffle. Maccroons.

Side thoughts:

New York City is an intense place to experience reverse culture shock.
America has big dogs.

1 DAY - MOUNTAINS, MAKGEOLI AND MERRIMENT

I suppose these three words adequately sum up this adventure, which is convenient because they are are so easily intertwined.

Katie pondered allowed last week,

"I'm just wondering where makgeoli is going to show up on your 30 days."

I love this beverage. I became quite the queen of rice wine. It's wonderful - light, refreshing, sweet, smooth and oh, so cheap. One bottle is around $1.20.

Makgeoli is merry. The bubbles justify it for a special occasion. It is also the beverage of choice for hikers. At the peaks of mountains, you'll see Korean's downing this stuff in a celebratory manor.

Most people drink it straight, but since I became such a fan, I created unique ways to enjoy. I mix it with orange juice or cider. Most frequently, I enjoyed it mixed with drinkable yogurt. I tell pretty much everyone I meet about this combination and have yet to meet someone who doesn't jump on the train.

And rocks. MOUNTAINS. They're vast, yet humble in this country.

 Oh my. MOUNTAINS.

And the third: merriment -
the convenience and promotion of a good time. Always. Always. I have had so much good, raw fun.

My words are a little gone right now but as I prepare to go, my heart is calm. Mostly I'm looking forward to a good, long sleep.

Here I go. Five hours to the bus. NYC bound.

KOREA, THANK YOU.

2 DAYS - THE LOVE NEST

First it was at Gillian's. Then all winter at Katie's. Then Chelin's. And now it's Kerryn's.

I'm typing this from the nest at Katie's while she's at work. This was my request. Yesterday after I finished packing, moving, closing accounts and running around the city, I wanted to be sprawled flat in the love nest. I wanted to stay in Damyang one last time.

The love nest is a combination of all the squishy things in one's apartment laid nicely in some central position of the apartment. At Katie's, it also includes a heating pad. When you're in the love nest, you prepare not to leave. You bring the hot water kettle, the tea, the entire bottle of wine, your books and the computer. Everyone piles in and assumes a comfortable position. Sometimes a movie is played. Usually food is consumed. And sometimes we just fall fast asleep.

Laughing always happens.

There's seems to be an age when it's comfortable to say that having a sleepover can be less fun and more burdensome. As a guest, it's often hard to balance the joy providing company with feeling like an intruder on someone's normal routine.

Not here.

Perhaps this is an element of being an expat that I'll quickly eliminate when I get back home. Everyone's always moving around, and considering we seem to have apartments in all corners of this city, it's convenient to convene for sleep.

I almost wrote, "I'm going to miss these piles.", but honestly, I have a lot of random floors lined up this next year. "Floor" might be too generous. I have a lot of flat surfaces on the horizon.

Here's to blankets. Here's to the nest. Here's to love.
Here's to community.
Here's to SLEEPING OVER, living out of a backpack and silly, silly mornings.

Here's to lovely humans.

As Katie said, "I just like waking up with other people."

3 DAYS - CHON CHON EE

This means slow. I often repeat this to my kids when they read an excerpt at one hundred miles an hour, ignoring pronunciation and intonation.

Today is my last night in this apartment. I just made my final cup of tea. I did my yoga. I poured my whiskey and here I am. This has been my routine most week nights while working on this project.

In the middle of my yoga sequence, I pressed my forehead into the ground during pigeon pose.  I rested there, took a good three breaths, and checked in with my feelings. Nothing intense registered.

Today feels completely normal, except for that bit where I turned my apartment upside down and shoved everything into bags.

I still have a lot to do, and perhaps a first, none of it's been manically formulated into list form. I'm serene, yet somehow still adequately putting out fires. I recall holding the same temperament before my departure to Korea. I feel steady and balanced; a little calmer, a little patienter, a little lighter and yes, a little slower.

I feel open to transition.

I also accept that at any moment I could become completely unhinged.

I'll get on that plane in a few days and that's just real. I'll walk slowly to the gate, under-slept and wide eyed.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Chon chon ee.

4 DAYS - FAMILY MATTERS

I was lucky enough to have my immediate family here for Christmas and New Year's last year.

That was rejuvenating. It's been a joy every time someone has come for a visit. 

Visitors are exciting because they force me to ponder as if I've just arrived. I remember how strange everything smelled, my first observations and my initial judgements.

I had my fair share.

I had six. My mother. My father. My sister. Ian. Allie. And Chris.

Visitors also douse me with "home" love, and that comes in the form of Reese cups AND long hugs. Thanks to everyone who made the haul. It was special and unique to share this experience.

SEOUL // DECEMBER 2011

MUDEUNG // DECEMBER 2011

MUDEUNG // AUGUST 2012

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

In case you were wondering, this is what the Seoul subway looks like at 2 am on New Years Eve.

SEOUL // JANUARY 2012

5 DAYS - SPACE

I’m working on staying present and nurturing a foundation rooted in patience.

Space can ignite truth or burn it, allowing for the possibility of a mind concoction based on false idealism and dangerous expectations.

At a distance I can create what I don’t know. I can compose a reality from fleeting thoughts. All I have is what’s in my brain. There’s no action to confirm my random hypothesizes.

I’ve learned to make peace with absolute truths when it comes to distance; to let love and relationships blossom, and to allow distance to spark transformation, equally for the individual and the unit.

I frequently hope I’m not tricking myself. I hope the space and distance that I sometimes want to squander provides breathing room for personal exaltation and exceptional growth that’s compatible with my loved one's versions of the same. Reintegration presents challenges. I hope I’m secure enough to accept change, keep my thoughts concrete and to trust the outcome.

Science says we can't be two places at once, but I'm not above clenching on to the ideal. Truth be told: love conquers time. Transcendence is inspired by action and intention, and in that I accept the things that space does. I know what I want and I trust that's compatible with my kin. We are all evolving. We are all adhering to someone somewhere; I just hope I’m true to myself, even if that truth is ever altering.

I'm looking forward to obliterating space, although that feeling is still far from real. I'm preparing my mind for a potent cocktail doused with devastation and exhilaration. I'm focused on significant human connection and a bunch of nights under the stars. Not a lot has made it onto my schedule this coming year that doesn't uphold one of those two intentions.

"WHEREVER YOU ARE, BE ALL THERE." -JIM ELLIOT

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

6 DAYS - ISLANDS

When it comes to islands, the Internet can't seem to agree on numbers so I'll just say this - Korea has a lot. Islands have hosted some of my favorite weekends. From Jeollanamdo, the province where I live, you can hit an island, get a day in of sunning and frolicking, and still return home before the last bus leaves the bus terminal (10:30). Or you can just camp on the beach. Here's my island highlights.

Imjado

TULIP FESTIVAL //APRIL 2012

TULIP FESTIVAL // APRIL 2012

Cheongsando

// MAY 2012

//MAY 2012

Bigeumdo

// JUNE 2012

// JUNE 2012

Ulleungdo

// OCTOBER 2012

// OCTOBER 2012

Dokdo

Dok do is a contended Island.  The only real reason to go there is for bragging rights. Here's mine.

// OCTOBER 2012

// OCTOBER 2012

7 DAYS - UGLY TRUTHS

According to Facebook, all I do is climb mountains, hang out with foreigners and party.

According to my blog, Korea is perfect: welcoming, safe, convenient and breathtaking.

So here's the annoying bits.

Trash is not managed very well.

Unless you've been wearing ear plugs, I'm assuming you've heard Psy's "Gangnam Style" and perhaps you've even seen the video. If not, a quick Google search will suffice. In the beginning there's a clip of him and two cute girls walking down the street in a whirlwind of trash. That's a humorous view on a serious truth. It's everywhere, not Central America "everywhere," but compiled poorly and in heaps on many streets.

Korea smells like kimchi. Surprise.

If it's Korean, it's number one. Sorry, Apple. Try again with your silly smartphone.

There's only toilet paper half the time.

Sometimes you have to use a squatter.

Korea offers only terrible excuses for cheese.

You can smoke basically everywhere. In the hallway. In restaurants. In the washroom. And a lot of people smoke.

I'm going to make three  huge generalizing statements here, so watch out:

Koreans love to follow trends. When I got here, it was Polo Ralph Lauren. Everyone had the same (unisex) button up with the large RL decal on the left pocket. Now it's Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch. It seems hard to convince them that something is legit unless you've already persuaded their next to kin and five best friends.

Second, Koreans love phones. This goes for children and elderly alike. Never have a seen such a majority in tune with that tiny piece of technology.

Third, old ladies are entitled to whatever they want. They walk straight to the front of the line. They'll give you an elbow in the back for a seat on the bus. In charades, they'll insist you fix your face.  (They will also kiss your forehead and give out a jolly laugh when you purchase produce from them on the street. I think they are lovely.)

There's my feeble attempt at a balanced argument for Korea. YIPEE.

8 DAYS - KOREAN KINDNESS

I am on my way to work. An old lady is collecting cardboard for pocket change. She has on the ajumma (old lady) visor, the ajumma pants and the ajumma shoes. She is 5 foot 2, and that's being generous. I have my head down and I'm thinking that this might be okay - leaving might be okay. She hobbles right on over to me, flashes me a big smile and exclaims, "IPPO DA." (translation: beautiful). I look to the sky. I shake my head. Oh, Korea. You're so good.

I am sick. Can't sleep. Can't eat. And I'm crying in the front of my classroom. I'm not sobbing, but my eyes are filled with tears and occasionally one escapes down my cheek. I try and compose myself and get the energy to yell. Be quiet, please. From the front row a girl says to me, "teacher. fighting!" and flashes me a hopeful smile. Now I actually cry.

I am at the super market. I need kale. Kale season is apparently over. The man knows I want all the kale. I always buy all the kale. So he goes to the back of the store and brings back a ginormous box. "KALE," he says. I am happy.

I am walking home. The lady who runs the corner store I frequent calls me over to her shop. "Sit," she says. She pours me beer. She hands me chopsticks and then she shoves a plate of raw fish, wasabi, lettuce and garlic in front of me. I eat. She says something about my face. And then she tells me I am beautiful. She doesn't let me leave until I'm full.

In all, I know I will see the friends who matter again in this life. We will catch up another time. We will travel together, sleep on one another's couches or meet up in distant lands. I trust that. What I'm going to miss is Korea. It's people. It's culture. It's abundance of kindness. It's cradled me. It shocked my system and then reeled me in like a fish.

I want to see my people at home, but I am not ready to leave. Nope. Not even a little bit. Here I am on the brink of departing, and I am constantly constructing ways in my brain for me to come back. It's wasteful to worry. If I want to return, I will. I'll buy that plane ticket. We're only really ever a plane ticket from anywhere.

Mudeung // NOVEMBER 2011

These men bought our food and then shared their makgeoli with Chelin and I. Following that, they offered to drive us to a neighboring mountain, Wolchulsan, come Spring. In other cultures this might be seen as suggestive - two middle-aged men offering to cart around two young women. Not in Korea. In Korea, this is normal... this is straight kindness.

9 DAYS - PEACE SIGNS

It just sort of.. happens.

I think there is an unspoken consensus that we all wish we did this less, but when the camera comes out, the deuces fly. Peace sign (self induced) photo bomb. THE IRONY.

10 DAYS- GIRAFFE

You can't take life too seriously out here or you'll just end up crying a lot.

You're bound to walk into school feebly masking a big fat zit and some kid is going to ask, "TEACHER, WHAT'S ON YOUR FACE?"

Kids just don't really care.

If you have dark circles, they are going to point them out. If you're having a bad hair day, watch out. A few months ago I walked into a class full of ten year old's and one exclaimed, "Teacher. hair. level down." Which in his terms means that my hair was a total fail.

I'm also the "butt" of a pretty long standing joke among adults in my life. In April I went camping with a group of seven or so the night before we were meant to run a 10k. Around one in the morning, I decided to do what any smart person would do and crawl to bed. My friends were not impressed. They began making jokes around the campfire trying to pry me back out, but I wasn't having it.

Finally, just as things had settled down and they'd found another topic of conversation, my friend Brad exclaims,

"Who would win in a being tall contest, Mara or a giraffe?"

I wish this was a funnier story to tell, but for some reason it always comes out a bit bland. However, I got out of the tent I was laughing so hard.

A few months later we were at the World's Fair in Yeosu. In the African pavilion was a giraffe statue. Casually, Katie beckoned me,

"Hey Mara. Go stand next to that giraffe."

I did so without even thinking.

Looks like I lost.

11 DAYS - MEDICAL SYSTEM

As I'm sicker than I've been in years, it's an appropriate time for me to address a magical thing in Korea: The Medical System.

Yesterday my boss asked me, "Did you catch a cold?"

And yes. Yes, I did. I caught a cold. It might have had something to do with that bit of last weekend where I decided to  climb a mountain at 3 in the morning to catch the sunrise. Or the lack of sleep I committed to. Now it's Tuesday during my last full week in Korea and I can't breathe. My eyes are puffy and watering. I wake up sweating, then freezing, then sweating again. I'm wearing neck warmers and wool sweaters and it's still 65 degrees in the afternoon.

BUT, doctor to the rescue!

Regardless of what you enter for, there's two procedures that are bound to happen when you check into a hospital in Korea. First, they are going to hook you up to an IV. Second, they are going to give you a shot in the ass.

Considering the language barrier, the first time the latter happens it's quite shocking. One minute you're on your back. The next you're on your side getting a nice pat to the bum followed by a needle.

Tonight the school's bus driver dropped me at the hospital after work. After I explained my symptoms,  I was horizontal with an IV intact in under four minutes. Shortly after, a lady came to my bedside. "Hip," she said. And I turned over. From there I passed out. I awoke in sweat and I could hear the nurse watching cartoons.

I'm sure there are flaws, but they are definitely not in efficiency or affordability. If you have insurance, it's dirt cheap to get fixed. Feeling ill? Just pop in real quick to get some meds. Once a doctor spent an hour with me and the bill was only $12. In a shared room, my friend Kerryn stayed in a hospital bed for five nights (including three meals a day) for less than $8 a day. That's convenient.

A related story:
I got some x-rays done a few weeks ago on my chest. In the larger hospitals, all the rooms are labeled in both Korean and English. It should also be noted that visiting the doctor is similar to a pit stop: your vitals, teeth, heart, sight, hearing and blood are all checked in 30 minutes flat. As the nurse shuffled me from the room where I get my blood drawn to the room where I'm meant to get an x-ray, I notice the sign on the door. It's in all caps. BREAST SHOOTING ROOM.

I laugh.

This is what I've been staring at for the last hour and a half:

12 DAYS - KIMBAP NARA

The literal translation here is "seaweed rice nation." This is Korean fast food. This is the place you get your late night snack, your quick lunch, and your kimbap for the mountain. They sell a little of everything - cheese ramen, kimchi soup (kimchi jjigae), noodles, rice, fried rice with kimchi (kimchi bokeombap), bibimbap (rice and vegetables), curry, eggs and it continues.

A typical menu is posted on the wall: (1,000 KRW is about 1 USD)

Photo by: The Gluten-Free Nomad

I love these shops. Although nothing fancy, they are cheap, fast, delicious and if you make the right choices, relatively healthy. Many are also open 24/7. In the winter I stop in a few times a week to pick up something pipping hot on my way home from work.

You can also eat here alone. In most Korean restaurants you must be accompanied. I've tried to work out the reasoning for this. The primary reason is surely money related. The restaurant uses energy to heat your hot pot or stove. Eating is also very communal. You don't see a lot of people eating or sipping coffee alone. Perhaps it's just most comfortable for everyone if you chose to eat with another.

Here's me in my favorite kimbap shop in my neighborhood. NOM NOM NOM. And between my chopsticks in some tuna kimbap.

Korean food doesn't photograph well. Every shot looks like a terrible blob of rice and weird piles of brownish red food. Fourteen months of attempts, and this is the best kimbap shot.

13 DAYS - LOOKING LIKE A FOOL

I'd like to think that I dress pretty well. Scratch that. I know that I dress well. I've been told. It's on that list of things that I somehow do well without really trying.

Many people are fortunate enough to understand taste and can throw together a fine meal in minutes. I happen to know how to put together an outfit without looking like an idiot.

I'll just go ahead and put that on my life resume filed under skills that don't lead to jobs.

Somehow in Korea I misplaced the motivation to utilize this trait because I feel invisible. Of course, this is highly imprecise because, in fact, I stand out more than ever. I am tall, blue eyed, have the Western high nose, and among that, I now have a piercing on my face.

I'm not exactly blending with the background.

Still there's a freedom that inspires me to go in public looking absolutely ridiculous. This last weekend I was walking through downtown in seven shades of green, a swim suit top over my shirt, leg warmers, confetti pants and a Hitler stache.

Yes. I had a Hitler mustache in board marker on my face. I have no idea how I got nominated for that. It was my friend Tammy's birthday and she wanted to have a K-themed party simply because she wanted to dress as a kimbap (Korean sushi roll). I was a "kiwi kaleidoscope," which at some special point in the day turned into a "Hitler kiwi kaleidoscope."

During a moment of reflection I stopped in the middle of the street to announce,

"You guys realize that in two weeks I have to be a proper human being."

It seems I'm always wearing mismatched clothes because I threw the wrong shirt in the bag or the temperature shifted twenty degrees midday.

I am interested in why we do this. I say "we," because I am completely not alone. Truly, my incident is not isolated. Katie wears heart-shaped sunglasses everywhere. Tammy sports capes. It seems there's always a themed gathering going on and I've seen a decade's supply of animal costumes.

There's a festive bunch out here. That's undeniable. I'll miss these wacko's and as I slowly deplete my wardrobe, I'll think of you as I rebuild.

Here's to looking silly -
to utilizing props,
to letting your guard down,
to being festive
and to making it work.

14 DAYS - GETTING PUNCHED IN THE MOUTH

on accident.

The Korean girl who did this is kind and sweet. We were in a club and for whatever reason, she was dancing about with her locker key positioned erect between her knuckles. I was casually walking and got struck in the mouth.

She'd be horrified to know I even remember this happened. (The perks of photo cataloging.) She also apologized to me profusely, only after I stood there stunned, and then quickly ran to the bathroom to confirm the events.

 
 And there's the one and only time I've been punched in the mouth.

 Here's to that.

15 DAYS - TEMPLES

BAEKYANGSA // APRIL 2012

SEORAKSAN // MAY 2012

WOLCHULSAN // SEPTEMBER 2012

SEONUNSA // NOVEMEBER 2011

If you're a person who enjoys mountains, you'll have a hard time avoiding temples. You don't need to be Buddhist to enjoy them. Listen for the monks chanting. Take a peek at a person worshiping. Enter for some quiet time in a sacred place.

When Japan occupied Korea, they burnt down the majority of the temples. Most of these are replicas, but I hand it to a nation for doing such a thing.

It seems wrong to give a "cheers" to a set of sacred buildings, so I won't.

So temples. Yeah, temples. Thanks for being beautiful.