I know that I am officially back in Korea because once again I am shitting red. Thankfully, this isn't the result of some unwanted blood in the mix, but rather a by-product of the gochu-jang (red pepper paste) that is liberally slathered upon a good deal of the dishes served up here on The Peninsula. I've plunged straight into the healthy joy of Korean food during my first few days back - going at the spicy and pungent fare with gusto. A month of American stodge was a lovely diversion, but give me Asian cuisine at the end of the day. It easily slides through the pipes and is head and shoulders above our grub when it comes to variety of tastes and textures. Cuisine wise, I'm quite happy to be back.
You could say that I'm happy to be back all-wise, really. America was great and perhaps the most to-the-core "recharge" vacation I've taken since moving here, which says something, since I've enjoyed a lifetime worth of not working since shipping off to this strange little rocky appendage to Asia major. Some folks asked me, "Are you bummed to be back?" to which I answer, "Hell, no." I'm actually stoked, if the truth be told. I like it here. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love Korea and Korea loves me. I'll take this Pollyanna-ism while I can get it, for no doubt within two months my inner foreign cynic will rise again and I'll be once again ranting online about the local spitters, starers, sidewalk blockers and dog eaters. But for the time being I just want to give all of them a hug, in their prickly, garlic-munching glory.
I awoke at 6 a.m., the result of jet lag, and made my way down my perilously steep little loft stairs (not recommended for the truly drunk), followed by my cats, Motgol and Myeolchi. I poured myself some iced coffee that I brewed the day before, read the entire internet (it's overrated), slipped on my running shoes and red bandana and went for a jog in the morning rain. The summer monsoon is at its tail end; I missed the main show while soaking up the Northwest sun at home, but the clouds are pissin' away today, so I grabbed a small umbrella and my cheap MP3 player (not an ipod, I = LUDDITE) and jogged away, the wails of Morrissey and jangles of Marr pushing me forward through the cooling mist. When I hit the Oncheon River - the site of a running and biking path - the reek of raw sewage slapped me like an angry whore. It seems the rain was flushing the toilet of the whole city of Busan into the unfortunate little stream. The sad little waterway usually smells poo-ey, but today it was just foul, a not-so-subtle reminder that Korea - while standing in the ranks of the developed nations, still has at least a toe in the third-world. Things like sanitary sewage disposal act as barometers for this sort of thing. The Special K just ain't there yet, in that regard.
I arrived on Sunday night, after one of the most painless trans-Pacific journeys I've yet logged, mainly thanks to the lorazepan and red wine cocktail imbibed on the plane. I slept for a good six of a ten hour flight to Tokyo. The final leg to Busan was also spent in dreamland (I missed my final meal!). By the time I arrive I felt reasonably alert and not the itchy-eyed, bloated fart-man that I usually turn into after long plane rides and several shitty airline meals. I met Minhee at my house and settled back into my Korean life seamlessly. I'm getting good at this.
Monday saw me back at work - albeit an abbreviated vacation schedule - and that night I met Angry Steve for grilled pig meat, later joined by Scott Evans, Jim, and the incomparable Nick Bibby (Graham Greene-like in his summer linen suit, complete with Panama hat) for a few harmless beers at Ol' 55. Yesterday was some more work and an early crash, which brings me to today, which is free, barring one housewife class that requires my presence in precisely forty minutes from now, so I best get my move on.
Today is a writing day, rewarded with chicken and beer tonight, provided quotas are met.
That is all. Move along now.
You could say that I'm happy to be back all-wise, really. America was great and perhaps the most to-the-core "recharge" vacation I've taken since moving here, which says something, since I've enjoyed a lifetime worth of not working since shipping off to this strange little rocky appendage to Asia major. Some folks asked me, "Are you bummed to be back?" to which I answer, "Hell, no." I'm actually stoked, if the truth be told. I like it here. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love Korea and Korea loves me. I'll take this Pollyanna-ism while I can get it, for no doubt within two months my inner foreign cynic will rise again and I'll be once again ranting online about the local spitters, starers, sidewalk blockers and dog eaters. But for the time being I just want to give all of them a hug, in their prickly, garlic-munching glory.
I awoke at 6 a.m., the result of jet lag, and made my way down my perilously steep little loft stairs (not recommended for the truly drunk), followed by my cats, Motgol and Myeolchi. I poured myself some iced coffee that I brewed the day before, read the entire internet (it's overrated), slipped on my running shoes and red bandana and went for a jog in the morning rain. The summer monsoon is at its tail end; I missed the main show while soaking up the Northwest sun at home, but the clouds are pissin' away today, so I grabbed a small umbrella and my cheap MP3 player (not an ipod, I = LUDDITE) and jogged away, the wails of Morrissey and jangles of Marr pushing me forward through the cooling mist. When I hit the Oncheon River - the site of a running and biking path - the reek of raw sewage slapped me like an angry whore. It seems the rain was flushing the toilet of the whole city of Busan into the unfortunate little stream. The sad little waterway usually smells poo-ey, but today it was just foul, a not-so-subtle reminder that Korea - while standing in the ranks of the developed nations, still has at least a toe in the third-world. Things like sanitary sewage disposal act as barometers for this sort of thing. The Special K just ain't there yet, in that regard.
I arrived on Sunday night, after one of the most painless trans-Pacific journeys I've yet logged, mainly thanks to the lorazepan and red wine cocktail imbibed on the plane. I slept for a good six of a ten hour flight to Tokyo. The final leg to Busan was also spent in dreamland (I missed my final meal!). By the time I arrive I felt reasonably alert and not the itchy-eyed, bloated fart-man that I usually turn into after long plane rides and several shitty airline meals. I met Minhee at my house and settled back into my Korean life seamlessly. I'm getting good at this.
Monday saw me back at work - albeit an abbreviated vacation schedule - and that night I met Angry Steve for grilled pig meat, later joined by Scott Evans, Jim, and the incomparable Nick Bibby (Graham Greene-like in his summer linen suit, complete with Panama hat) for a few harmless beers at Ol' 55. Yesterday was some more work and an early crash, which brings me to today, which is free, barring one housewife class that requires my presence in precisely forty minutes from now, so I best get my move on.
Today is a writing day, rewarded with chicken and beer tonight, provided quotas are met.
That is all. Move along now.
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