First Korean Impressions

I'm bad at putting up pictures here. And since getting here last night, I haven't found anything particularly picture worthy. They will appear though, little by little.

What is "here?" First it was the Incheon airport outside of Seoul, a 12-hour flight from San Francisco. Then it was a 3-hour night bus ride to Daejeon during which we glimpsed the rainbow-colored neon lights of Seoul and little else. My jet-lagged journal scribbles go a little like this:

I'm close to 25 and I still find myself on a group-organized, structured, middle-school like bus ride. We could be going to camp. Or a field trip to the zoo. But no, we are a collection of Westerners, mostly Americans, jetlagged, sleepy, newly arrived to a tiny Asian peninsula, racing on a freeway. Quite a different experience from being the only non-Bulgarian on a Eurolines bus. In a way, it's sort of comforting to know that I can fit both experiences within a short span of time, choosing one over the other. But yes, strangely, my last extended bus journey was Sofia-Paris, last June, before the Paris Critical Mass ride. I almost feel a sort of regression. From total unknown, unexplored territory to a predictable environment. How is that possible, in the Far East? I'm sure it will in fact change a lot and very soon.

We couldn't eat anything until after 11 this morning (!) because we had a medical check-up, complete with piss and blood test. Pretty invasive, and unlike in France, we didn't get to keep our chest X-rays!

Also, unlike in France - people are nice. Koreans are nice. They smile and ask how you are. They seem to want us here. I certainly welcome this change.

In the next few entries, I plan to write some thoughts about women, privilege and travel.

Now, off to more orientation business.

Last U.S. Days of 2012

I'm making a commitment to update this blog at least once a week for the rest of the year. Not an easy task, I'm sure, but since my mind is constantly working to keep straight an ever-expanding accumulation of interests, personal memories and world events, it seems that writing it out is the path to keeping sane. Also, I am about to embark on a whole new journey on a small Asian peninsula.

I left Houston one week ago. Being on the road again, even if it's actually flying in evil planes and actually staying in familiar family's houses, is what feels most like home. I've started journalling again in earnest, reading longwinded fiction in the form of Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, using the beautiful & awesome new Slingshot to keep organized and learning basic Korean with the help of these badass Koreans.

In Denver, everything was covered in snow and huge icicles, a reminder that yes, it is still winter and I'll be in for a rude awakening in my new home. Also in Denver, my Russian-speaking grandfather remains largely the same and despite his being 60 years my senior, I can't help but call him out on statements like "Listen to a woman, do the opposite," "Humans are evil (or something)," "The East is a dark place," etc. etc.

Now I'm in the Bay Area, reconnecting with my cousins, college friend Michaela, and filmmaker Rob Nilsson. Rob and I had a pretty interesting conversation about art, politics & society today. It was sunny, I was in a good mood and I felt like taking the side of fighting the system by doing our own thing and not overly concerning ourselves with the system. On other days and depending on who I talk to, I'll take a far more critical and negative view of the situation radicals, especially radical artists, find themselves in. In general, though, my distaste for authority cuts through everything and I feel that putting some kind of artificial standards and rules on creative expression still does more harm than good.

Oakland and Berkeley have evolving resistance communities and I could spend years exploring them as I could Boston or Denver or Lille or Houston, but all I have is these few short days. The reality is, I will very soon be pulled away from all these familiar elements of life. There will be no readily accessible anarchist social spaces with books and consensus meetings and shows and vegan food. No regular community bike rides. No women's discussions. At least not in Gangwon-do, where I will spend the majority of my time. There will be a vast number of new places, people and memories that I can't even imagine as I sit here. No matter how much I absorb from books and the Internet, I could never adequately prepare myself for the massive change that is about to take place in my life. The biggest one yet.

Korea, take me in...