Blog Cream

Right in front of you, there is a bowl. In this bowl is your favorite flavor of ice cream.

Perfectly soft. Perfectly silky. Perfectly smooth.

You look closer, only to discover that drizzled on top of this perfection is your favorite ice cream topper (mine is caramel). The silver spoon is in your hand. All you have to do is dip it into that bit of delicious.

Take a moment.

You’ve been anticipating that first bite.

Not just anticipating. . . . but actually putting off this first bite--knowing that to wait. . .well

You thought about ice cream earlier in the week, but decided to wait because waiting only makes you want it more—only makes that moment of the first bite that much more exhilarating. There’s been a lot of thought put into this bite. . .

The flavor, the toppings (did I mention caramel), the surroundings. . .

Now, there it is right in front of you. Ready for the taking.

The stars have aligned.

The time is now.

Your favorite ice cream, and favorite topping (hello, caramel), is there. . .in front of you.

Your spoon dips, turns, and scoops up the perfect morsel, the caramel drips, a bit lands on your finger. Your heart accelerates as this delectable delicious decadence touches your bottom lip, and. . .

Oh my god. . .it passes on to the tongue, and. . .and. . .and. . .

Yep, it’s ice cream. Just as you expected.

And that moment becomes much like your first sexual experience. It was the foreplay on your mind’s part that made it exciting. . .the actual moment. . .

Meh.

**Note: I equate most everything about life with food. We could get all philosophical on this and pretend that it’s because food gives me life, and in essence by loving food I am loving life. . .but whatever. . . .

Food. Delicious. There are no ifs ands or buts about that. . .I love food. I love life. I love sex. This is probably why I run. In order to enjoy all three of these things. . .you should be athletic. (Also, my family and I take food extremely serious)

Moving on. . .

Back to ice cream. . .

You enjoy your bowl of ice cream. It is sweet and succulent, and well worth the wait. You make your way through. It. . .savoring it. Thankful for its presence. . .but you find yourself reaching the end. You are saddened by this prospect, but know it is inevitable. . .However. . .

Suddenly. .

You scrape the bowl for those last bits. . .the leftovers. Not much to them. . .just (what you think will be) some cold milky ice cream and topping (caramel) mixed together. . .you fill your spoon with these icy bits. . .then bring it to your mouth. . .

And behold. . .

Your heart stops. . .

You have just experienced the best bite of the entire bowl of ice cream.

Sure the first bite was wanted and anticipated. . .

But this last bite. . .this last moment of delicious. . .all the flavors combined into one special specific moment. . .well, that. . .

That. . . .

Was unexpected.

And that made the walk to the convenience store in the bitter cold to get the ice cream. . .the walk to three (THREE!) grocery stores to find the (perhaps I've mentioned this) the caramel. . .the getting home. . . the scooping. . .the drizzling. . .all these efforts were well worth that very last bite. Not the first, but the last. That last glorious bite that combined your efforts and your flavors into one final perfection of a moment.

And truly, my life is that bowl of ice cream. It’s not a box of chocolates. . .it’s ice cream. It is a scattering of bits. . .the moments that I think will be gorgeous turn out to be “meh”. . .and the moments that I think will be the end. . .turn out to be extraordinary. As I scrape that bowl, things I don’t even remember being there end up on that spoon. . .

Just as that ice cream becomes more delicious and more desirable than I remember. . .

So does life. . .

We all have our life metaphors. . .I have a lot. . just think for a moment. . .Your favorite painting--how many colors does it have in it?

You favorite song---how many instruments?

You favorite story—how many words?

Your favorite food—how many ingredients?

All the best moments are really a collage aren’t they? That first kiss. . .there were a lot of elements mixed with it right?

And the best kiss, was when that person, you and the surrounding elements mixed perfectly. . .maybe it didn’t look pretty (like that caramel mixed with ice cream) but it felt and tasted perfect.

I am a theatre practitioner who hates reading plays. There, I said it out loud. I think a play should be combined with all the intended elements. Just like a song. . .Yes, the words are great, but filling them in with guitar and bass, and oh my, drums. . .well, I’ve just blushed. . .

The same goes with food, love, and life.

The more ingredients, the more mixing, the more you combine those experiences, the greater it all becomes.

You are alone right now. . .or you are with someone. . .you are planning your next move, or you are in the middle of your next big thing. . .all these things are little moments. . .all of them mixing together. . .no matter. Because in between all of them you will have several lone moments. . . where you sit on your couch (or perhaps in a bar or on a bench in a park or on a sidewalk in a bustling city), and your thoughts will wander and all of these moments will come into the foreground, and you will find yourself smiling because your wandering thoughts have allowed you to taste the best bite of your life. . .

And you know what??

That’s only the end of one bowl.

You have countless more waiting to be filled with your efforts (three stores for caramel!) and hard work.

At least I do.

I am a lucky person. I have a family and friends who love me. They love me.

They actually do. And I am sure of it.

Wow.

(taking a moment)

So, I spent my night watching a silly FX show called Archer, which I adore. . .and then I trampled out into the cold for said ice cream, and this blog was the result.

Not bad for a night in Korea.

And now a quote, as I wander on. . .to my next thought. . .

"One cannot think well, loved well, or sleep well, if one has not dined well." --Virginia Woolf

and even kings understood the importance of a good pun. . .

"For its merit, I will knight it, and then it will be Sir-Loin." --Charles II

my furry friends, be well.

Let's talk Culture: Part One

To state the obvious. . .my favorite thing about travel is discovering a new culture. . .what the average day is like, the people, the art. . .and most importantly the food--food is an integral part of a culture. (I get this from my mom. . .whenever, I am somewhere new, her first question is, what is the food like?)

Early on in my travel career, I found that the cultures most unlike my own were the most fascinating. . .England is nice, but it's kind of like the States only slightly askew. . .Western Europe. . .beautiful and full of history, but no big challenges. . .However, Nicaragua, Panama, Turkey. . .now, they were different. . .there were major cultural differences and many challenges to overcome while adventuring into them. . .and that is one of the major reasons I chose Southeast Asia, as a new travel destination. . .but this time. . .it's not just travel. . .this is full immersion into a new world for me, and I am finding the differences to be major, but also the similarities are intriguing. . .

So, let's talk obvious differences. . .first the language--there aren't "letters" just characters. The vocal stress is not on the consonants but rather the vowels, and to me it sounds like singing. Truly, I am mesmerized when a Korean starts talking to me. . .I feel like I am suddenly privy to a private musical performance. (Certainly doesn't help when I am trying to order food, and I just stand there stunned, but the ladies at my favorite restaurant Kjm Pasa, are quite used to my odd behavior at this point). . .

Which brings me to food. . .food defines a culture. . .not only what they eat, but how they prepare it. I do not pretend to know how food represents a culture, however, I know from experience that all cultures (whether you are in small town america or in an obscure village in Nicaragua) people are always proud of the food from their world. I know I love sharing true southern biscuits and gravy with others. . .Korea is no different. They are proud of their food, and they love to talk about it. . . .whenever you talk to Korean about their cuisine, the first thing they ask is, "have you had Kimchi?" (for those who don't know, Kimchi is fermented cabbage that is very spicy and served with every meal) Simply put, it is delicious, and extremely good for you. . .Koreans are quick to point out that when the Avian Flu broke out in SE Asia, Koreans didn't get it, and when scientists did a study to see why, they found it was the fermentation process of Kimchi that strengthened the Koreans' immune system. . .the next thing a Korean asks you when discussing culinary delights, is "do you like spicy food?" Korean food is very spicy. . .I love it, but many find it is too hard to handle. . .and if you are vegetarian, eating becomes much more difficult. . .the Korean palette is focused around beef and seafood. . .Although Bibimbap, is probably my most favorite meal, and it consists of rice, veggies, and seaweed. It is important to note, I am still getting to know Korean cuisine, but so far, I am in love with it. . .and I am sure I will be writing much more on it. . .

In other culture news. . .

Walking. Seems simple and straightforward. For those who don't know, Korea was colonized by Japan in the early 20th century, so they adopted a lot of the Japanese ways. . .one of them being walking on the left hand side. However, about 2 years ago, the Korean government wanted to make Korea a bit more westernized, and so they attempted to change this walking pattern. . .not quite sure how it happened, but this is what I imagine. . .

There is a super secret meeting late at night. Top Korean officials decide everyone should walk on the right side. So (without notifying a single citizen) they release their henchmen, who wear all black and ninja masks, into the subways and on to the streets. In one night, they change all the walking arrows from the left side to the right side. . .

The result. . .the following morning, Koreans, ready to start their day, descend upon the streets and subways. . .they are greeted with new arrows beckoning them to walk on the right side. Instinct screams "NO!!" Rational thought says, "YES!!" Instinct and Rationale are at an impasse. Body flutters and stalls out. . .The society as a whole pauses. Necessity kicks in and everyone begins to walk, however, in that moment, society becomes divided into traditionalists and followers. . .mass confusion ensues and the people are left with no sense of where to walk.

Basically, Koreans do not know where to walk, and so westerners (such as myself) find themselves walking down the middle of hallways and sidewalks, hoping not to run into anyone. . .

The sidewalks bring me to another point. . .cars. In the States, and most countries I've been to, sidewalks are meant for people who walk to their intended destination. . .not so much here in Korea. . .here, when a car driver no longer wants to deal with the streets he simply pulls up on the sidewalk and goes where he needs to go. . .pedestrians are considered nuisances. . .so a pedestrian is not only playing Frogger as she crosses the street, but also as she walks along the sidewalks. . .

Therefore, I am not only avoiding confused Koreans who are not sure where to walk, but I am also avoiding whole vehicles who are tired of playing road politics. . .combine this with my severe lack of coordination, and we have a charlie chaplin film to say the least.

Then we add old ladies into the mix. . .from what I've gathered through observation and conversation, elderly ladies reign supreme in this land. On one hand, this causes me great joy. . .on the other. . .a huge amount of stress. You do not want to cross an old lady, because each one feels it is her right to beat sense into you using her cane or her purse or whatever. . .this has yet to happen to me, but I waiting for my time to come. Of course,this tradition makes daily life interesting. . .My first day walking down the streets of Daegu, I saw elderly women blindly walking into traffic. . .at first I felt the need to rescue them, but then I realized. . .they are fully aware of the traffic, the blowing horns, and the yelling drivers. . .they just don't care. They know people will stop for them, and that they have earned that right. . .and so they walk into the street carrying on their conversations with each other, and calmly show their disdain for the drivers and their obnoxious horns. . .having discovered this cultural nuance, I find myself hovering about the old ladies as I walk to work. . .I get there in half the time, and their talking offers a music accompaniment to my steps.

Another cultural nuance is that alcohol/social drinking is a high priority. . .I certainly can embrace a society that believes in social debauchery. . .after 6PM walk into any restaurant and it is a robust environment--full of energy and conversation. . .people talking and laughing and drinking, and just letting go of there day. Yes please! However, when this cultural nuance bleeds into traffic. . .a slight discomfort arises. . .since drinking is so accepted and encouraged, many taxi drivers imbibe throughout their shift, combine that with the sidewalk being open driving territory, and you get really stressed pedestrians. This culture distinction certainly makes you wonder about he sidewalk--i mean is it drivers who hate traffic, or drunk drivers who could care less. . .Either way, it certainly makes the walk home an interesting adventure. . .

And with that. . .I am done for now. . .Needless to say, the culture is certainly different, and it will take more than one blog, and probably more than one lifetime to really compile and express it. . .

However, I do find it mesmerizing, inspiring, enlightening, and some what confounding. I am so glad we humans are all so different, and I feel fortunate to experience different parts of the world. I encourage you all to travel and experience. . .it is crucial to our growth and survival.

and so a quote. . .

"He who is different from me, does not impoverish me--he enriches me. Our unity is constituted in something higher than ourselves--in man. . .for no man seeks to hear his own echo, or to find his reflection in the glass." -- Antoine De Saint-Exupery.

be well my furry friends.