Paint By Numbers

Or, My Asian Adventure, Numerically Speaking.

1: Raw Ginseng root eaten after being offered by a kindly man with wrinkles showcasing his eyes at the Yangyang market. Also the number of photos I was asked to be in with total strangers (at the Forbidden City in Beijing).

6: Times I was asked to take pictures for total strangers.

2: Cups of mineral water I drank directly from a spring in the ground (in Osaek).

3: Flights (out of 5) wherein I had two (or more!) seats to myself. (Comfortable air travel is happy air travel.)

5: Times (out of 5) I sat by the window on the aforementioned flights. Also the number of Buddhist temples I visited.

11: Pictures I attempted to self-take with little compositional success, that I still very much love.

4: The most unlucky number in South Korea, and thus the one missing from all numbering and building planning. The floors in Will and T’s apartment building (and all other apartment buildings) were numbered 1, 2, 3…5, 6, 7 and on and on, with no fourth floors ever to be found.

4 & 9: The days most Korean cities host local markets; that is, any day boasting either a 4 or 9 in the date. Apparently the number 4 isn’t so unlucky when it comes to shopping.

20+: Times I put something in my mouth for the first time ever, something I probably had no idea even existed a few minutes prior to eating it.

5(pm) 2.5.10: The moment I realized I was eating squid as it was meant to be prepared. (Fresh from salt water, grilled and stuffed with rice and veggies and other mouth-watering goodness.)

13: Pounds I lost while in Asia. Also the number of days I awoke to bright sunshine and clear (albeit meat-locker-cold) days in both Beijing and South Korea.

5: Days Snowmageddon decided to visit South Korea. (The last five days, as it were.)

50 lbs: Worth of journals/notebooks/day planners I ogled, coveted, laughed at and nearly bought while in South Korea.

14: Paper somethings with which I actually absconded. (Lest you think I’ve successfully plunged off The Paper Deep End (It exists; I checked), a large percentage of that 14 were purchased as gifts, and you can’t prove otherwise.)

10: Postcards I intended to mail while abroad, which will actually be mailed from a more exiting, exotic location that looks remarkably like my apartment.

20: Minutes a day spent laughing while trying to understand Korean television programming with Will and T.

3.21: Kilometers I hiked up The Great Wall.

120: Seconds it took to be whisked down off The Great Wall via gondolas located at one of the original lookout stations.

30: Minutes spent riding around the hutongs in Beijing on a rickshaw.

18: Days I journaled while abroad (See also: every day).

32: Degrees outside when Theresa and I decided to take a snowy, nighttime bike ride to Rolly Espresso and back. (Despite The Freezing, it’s one of my favorite memories from the trip. Especially because I know we looked Crazy walking in for a cup of espresso with our pants and hats, hands and red noses dripping wet.)

1 Million: A rough estimate of how many times I thought to myself, “I am so thrilled to be here.”

843: The number of pictures I took while on the trip.

Speaking of (ridiculous amounts of) pictures, I uploaded some more; the entire set from the trip is here.

Merry Mélange

It was here, while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although, of course, at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun, perhaps long ago near the sound of water. And I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode so there would be a sharp turn, deep circles, a deposit, and quietness.

-from A River Runs Through It → Read more...

Back Diving

I posted a picture of him for a silly Instagram-related game and found him waiting for me in my dreams, something which occurs so rarely it still explodes solidly-constructed dams inside me each time I see his face, mustached and smiling at mine just the way he always did, just the way I always remember him. As usual he didn’t say much, not anything I could hear or remember, but he was there and I knew it, and when I → Read more...

Hiking Into Green Valleys

I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.

I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...

Rivers And Roads

[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]

It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...