With Freedom (#10)

I hope conversation is still cool one day.

I hope people continue to take off their shoes on muddy beaches,

even though they will trek home sand.

I hope people continue to make the child-like choices.

I do.

Photo taken on Yongyu Beach

I have been reading Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See with a hungry man's appetite. 

As my experiences multiply, so does my sense of isolation.

Like wine and cheese. 

Ahem, whine and cheese.

  The expat community comes and goes so briskly, you feel like you just met someone before they flicker away joyfully.  Relationships ignite and burn out - they are made quickly and passionately only to exhaust themselves beautifully. 

We are all fireflies, but it is only nighttime for a short while.

Are the things that last in life as beautiful as those which disappear quickly?

This is the ephemeral art of theater as well.

Jules Verne writes "Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth."

This is to say... well, let's do get on with it.

 

The kids and I have continued our silly relationship.  One might say it has blossomed its way down the rabbit hole.  I now routinely threaten them that I will eat them... eventually.  As a result, they draw a dead "Sabina Lamb."  Then, they draw Sabina Teacher as a sponge-like creature.  Then, they draw Sabina Teacher being eaten by a dragon with horns.  

I don't expect anyone to understand this relationship that I love.  

But in my heart, it just so happens to be idiotically perfect.

The job business of the past month has been peppered by seminars at which I have lectured and open classes I have taught.  One of these was a class on South Africa, during which I was called Charlize Theron.  I was sure we looked slightly different, but I will take the misplaced compliment.

This has not allowed me to travel much outside of Seoul.  So in my attempt to embrace the positive, I have taken it as the opportunity to explore the city.

On one of these explorations, I ventured through the Seoul Forest.  The best part of this was an apple orchard which seemed untouched and unpicked.  But whatever, it was rustic, okay? 

Next, I ventured into the Western part of Seoul for the first time.  It's called Itaewon, and it's known for its international restaurants, happening night life, and underground market.  Despite the allure of so much going on, I found the morning a bit steeped in trash and the stench of soju.  I was bothered by a man still drunk on soju at a 7-eleven, buying an American-like breakfast sandwich.  It was only when I realized he was a cab driver, reporting for his shift that I was amused and terrified.

After parading through Itaewon, we went up to Seoul Tower via Namsan Mountain.  What I loved about this hike were two small things:  1.  the ability to lie down mid-trail on chairs that have a curviture that at least makes you think they are therapeutic, and 2. the introduction to Korean dates (jujube) by our favorite Seoul International Hiker's Club pathologist. 

Right around the Seoul Tower, there are benches dedicated to "love," mostly because a bunch of Korean dramas were filmed there.  These benches are surrounded by locks.  If you are in a committed relationship, you are supposed to put a lock on one of the "trees" or "fence" to solidify your commitment.  

I do not know why the benches look like they are breaking.

Afterwards, we ate a small upstairs restaurant in Namdaemun.  The whole restaurant was full of men, away from home while their wives were busy cooking during Chuseok.  During this "Korean Thanksgiving," so much cooking takes place that people give each other gift sets of canola oil and SPAM.  Most unusual if you are not familiar with the tradition.  This comes from the Korean War, during which SPAM was introduced by the American military and became a delicacy.

This place had no SPAM.

This place had raw fish and smoked mackrel, two famous seafood dishes.  

I tried the mackrel and was in a delightful daze.

Next I gandered into the Korean countryside.  It is just one stop away from me in Uiwang, which is also known for its transportation university and railroad roads.  The town was quiet, reminding me of the desert in Southern California.  I heard bullfrogs and crickets and children laughing.

I was happy there was nothing else happening.  

Perhaps the old part of my soul is starting to rear its head.

I ended my trip there going into a plant shop that had an expensive coffee shop concealed inside of it.

It was almost as if it had been designed that way to be "thematic," but here it really was just a place to have an americano after you buy a lilac.

Further down one of the roads was a barista school, which Korea is chock-ful of.  They take real pride in the "art of coffee."  

The sign said "OPEN," so I nudged the door.  It swung open, and the cafe alarm began to sound.  There I was, in the middle of the countryside, terrified by an obnoxious alarm.  The worst part was that it woke up a pitbull-like dog in doghouse in front of the cafe, and he proceeded to trail me on his chain as I scampered away.  

I thought, "That's it.  Tomorrow's headline will read AMERICAN GIRL IN HER 30'S EATEN BY DOGS IN THE KOREAN COUNTRYSIDE."

I just wanted coffee.

Beauty exists in all forms here.

It's better to see it than to only acknowledge how you define your own.

As I stay here longer, I continue to process the little stories, the little moments.  And I vow that for the second part of my stay I will be even more open to Korean culture than I have up to this point.  You always surprise yourself when you allow doubt to creep in and reveal a bit of truth.

It's scarier that way, but it allows for waterfalls instead of dams.

All the Light We Cannot See is a novel about appreciation but also acknowledging the other perspective after it is too late.  It spans World War II and tells the story of a blind girl in France and a young boy seduced by Hitler Youth propaganda.

To know your weaknesses is dually as important as knowing your strengths.

But then move on and research the habits of snails or something.

Signing off,

Sabina Lamb

Dance performance at Seoul International Airport on the way home from the beach, a merry surprise