Past Times.

Visited the Royal Tombs today, then afterwards walked through Seoul's National Cemetery. Burial traditions and rituals are fascinating to me. I've also always been slightly curious about dead things, including people, animals... anything that can die I guess. It's not weird. At a cemetery, it's the only place you can be surrounded by hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, and not have to push, shove, or elbow your way around. I think about the people, the faces, the stories, the secrets...all these things I'll never know and the mystery of it all just drives me nuts. I truly believe cemeteries are some of the most beautiful, peaceful places to be. For the rest of you that think cemeteries are eerie and scary, stop watching television.

This is from the top of a hill at the Royal Tombs. All this history, in the midst of a bustling city.

Who doesn't love a path in the woods

Statues to honor the kings at the burial sites.

Looking out the window of a burial ceremony room.

The front entrance of Seoul National Cemetery

Buried standing up, facing the mountains. I read it is traditional custom to burn the immediate clothing worn by the deceased at the grave site. Then a series of bowing and wailing are performed to ward off spirits that might harm the one of who has just past.

Offering to those who fought for Korea's liberation.

Spanning 343 acres and holding over 160,000 soldiers and honorable Korean heroes.

The ceiling of the Unknown Memorial. About 104,000 headstone tablets enshrined inside the monument to honor the soldiers that couldn't be found, along with 6,000 jars containing ashes of the unkown lost in battle.

Seeing so many graves makes a number become more than just that. The Koreans have done such a beautiful job in honoring those lost in the war. Althought it might not be the most pleasant thing to do in Seoul, I think more foreigners should take advantage of the history around them, instead of the cheap beer and food.

Until next time...

C

Dr. Fishy

So I finally got around to having my first Dr. Fish experiment. Holy mother. It was weird. You buy a coffee, lounge and chat, then submerge your tootsies in a tank of little monsters waiting to brunch on your dead skin. How romantic, right? It tickled like mad and I probably shouldn't have had so much coffee, because I'm pretty sure it was oozing out of my pores and into the water, giving those fish the extra pizazz they needed to make the experience extra unbearable.

sugar rush.

We were alotted 15 minutes in the Dr. Fish pool, and I probably had my feet in for a third of that time. The other 10 minutes were spent deep breathing like a lamas trainee and flailing my hands around like a gay at a Whitney concert.such a baby.

Afterwards, though, my feet were smooth and shockingly enough, there were no jaws-like chunks taken out of my skin. I might go back again, if I can find a way to get over the crazy tickling feeling.

my feet.

B's Feet.

I know they have it in some states back home. If you can find one, try it out. It was worth the torture. Slowly crossing off the random things on my Korean "To Do" list.

A Date with Mr. Warhol

The Andy Warhol exhibit has been in Seoul for months now. I've been meaning to go but I've been preoccupied with hangovers and projects. God knows if I could find a hot glue gun here, I wouldn't even leave the house. Craft time = Cassie's happy face.

The exhibit was great. A lot of great works I wasn't expecting to see. Warhol was such a nut. A clever, groupie-like, narcissistic nut. His series of Mick Jagger are my favorite. Mick Jagger has one ugly mug, but the series is dramatic and the 80's at its best. Would love some of those prints one day when I have enough wall space. Or a wall in general.

There were so many, scratch that, TOO many people there. I hate crowded museums. It feels like being walked in on, in the shower. I just want to gasp and point at people and do a shakey-finger-point maneuver that tells them quite clearly to get the hell out.

Really being able to enjoy art is kind of a private thing for me. Don't look at me looking at it. And don't you look at it either. Does that make sense? With Koreans having zero awareness for personal space, I couldn't exactly enjoy much of the work without being poked and proded to move along by a cattle ranching grannie who wouldn't get away from me.

For anyone else in Seoul, I highly suggest you visit. Perhaps you should go on a weekday though, as the weekends proved to be hard on the rib cage.

me too.

The Banana.

Stylin. Profilin'.

True.

The Rat Race

Like sand through the hour glass.... these are the days of my life.

Time seems to be in fast forward and I'm getting closer and closer to the end of my stay here. I still have over 5 months, but I know it'll be here sooner than I'm prepared. Somehow, the older the get, the more unsure I am of my decisions. The ones I've made, and the ones I have yet to consider.

I'm pretty happy with how my life has turned out since graduation, but I spend hours a day worrying that I won't live up to the chaotic supreme dream that is my ideal self. I've got big plans for myself, and it's not going to be easy. I wish I could just go to GNC and buy a powder strawberry shake form of Bad Ass-ness. But it's never that easy.

Truth is, my career choice and my inner voice don't exactly see eye to eye. I feel like an artist at heart, but as my palm reading revealed last week, it's a lot of hard work and money can be short. Also my life line is giant, so I could quite possibly be the bionic woman. Or I could go the route of a TV exec, like I studied for, and sell people's souls for a designer lifestyle. Ick. What's a girl to do?

My dream is to be a published writer. I want to write books: novels, essays, shorts. This blog is horrific in terms of my writing style so don't judge me on this. But I think I have something, and I think it's good, and I'm actually writing it. When I get back to the US, I'll be looking for publishing jobs and hopefully my first book will be finished.

In the mean time, I'll be over here, acquiring stories and creating even more seemingly impossible expectations to live up to.

Things to Accomplish In 2010
1. dear cassie- you know if you write a list you'll be writing things down into existence and then bringing on bouts of premature grays and wrinkles. so don't make a list, no matter how tantalizing.

I'm a Seoul Woman

There is never a lack of things to do on the weekends in Seoul. There are plenty of bars, restaurants, pool halls, soju tents, and gimmicks to be had. Can't exactly say it's my "scene" here, but I'm greatful none the less. I think Koreans view Westerners as one giant fraternity/sorority. Western bars are clearly labeled with gaudy names, gaudy drinks, and convincing banners boasting "sexy bikini party" with half priced jager. However, it's entirely your choice to go to western places like this. Usually we hang out at smaller hole in the walls or hang out at a coworkers house. Doesn't matter where I go, there are always good drinks, games, and laughs to be had. And, a few photo opps, of course.

Hookah Bar, Oi in Hongdae, a very western part of Seoul. Great little spot though.
At Oi, you crawl around these weird catacombs and find a pillow to sit on. Its kinda trippy but unique to anything else in Seoul.

This is Lee, looking all primal with some home made rice wine. He knows the best restaurants, best vacation destinations, the best bars. Overall, he's pretty much the best.

Rice wine and side dishes. Waiting on some seafood stirfry.


aaaaaaaand the seafood stirfry. so good.

DARTS! these kids and their darts, i tell ya.

Same Same...but Different

Ok, so it has been 2 weeks since my trip and I have been slacking on updating the blog. What can I say? After a good vacation, all I want to do is take naps in a hammock. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures and have countless stories. However, I really hate it when people talk about their vacations for eons at a time, so I'll spare you and let you in on the things that are still in popping into my dreams.

So yes, there were obviously beautiful beaches. Talk about a Corona ad. Nha Trang is a dead-on match. The waves are wild and the sun is unforgiving. Toppling islands and coconut boats meet a misty horizon and once again, I feel as small as the sand I walk on. It feels great. The shores are littered with peddlers and sometimes, you just have to say yes. To a book, a beaded bracelet, or 3 fresh pinching lobsters for the price of $15. You bet it was delicious.

Touring the islands put me in a state of constant relaxation. Something most of us aren't used to. We all kept wondering, "why am I so sleepy?". Then we realized that maybe, just maybe, it's what it feels like to be relaxed. There were beers to be had, parasails to be filled, and sea fare to be eaten. By the end of the day, my skin was burned, coated in salt, and the happiest I've been in a long time. The untouched islands and poverty stricken fishing boats made for a painstackingly beautiful scene.

My first scuba adventure was met with much anticipation. It takes a lot to wake a group of hung over 20somethings at 7am to catch the bus. The dive masters and crews have got it right. They don't drive a lexus, they probably don't even drive. But their wrinkles are from laughing too much and spending their days among the reefs. Not a bad way to acquire some age lines. The dive was more than I thought it would be. Fish corkscrewed around us and the eels scared the hell out of me. I got to touch the fish, wiggle through coral canals, and realize how completely quiet it is in a sea full of hustlers and bustlers. Besides the sounds of my bubbles and my regulator, it was the thickest quiet I have ever experienced. This day was the highlight of my whole trip.

Saigon is a city to be reckoned with. The vendors are smart and the street kids are smarter. The dogs are mean and the chickens are wild. Mopeds in masses sound like killer bees on the loose. Forget safety seats. Families of 5, infant and all, can pile onto a suzuki and speed through town effortlessly. The same mopeds and street boys stole the purse right off my arm and sped off into a nights traffic. I wasn't hurt but I realize that I'm just a dollar sign in a city in Vietnam.

The rickshaw driver told me he's been hit a few times, and he is also guilty of a little pedestrian battery. All in a days work. The markets were plenty and in the corners where the tourist tried not to look, were the remnents of a country hit hard by war. Napalmed faces and disfigured legs were sprawled on the sidewalks. I don't think I could ever forget the toothy grin from one such vet. Although he wasn't grinning, he just didn't have a face anymore. His skull visible around the eyes, nose, his lips burnt away. He wasn't begging, just playing cards.

The food was exotic and I wasn't even mad at the French influences. It beats rice and kimchi any day. The coffee was thee best I've ever had in my entire life of constant coffee sipping. Slow dripped at my table and naturally sweetened with a kind of cocoa taste. Oh how my heart aches for more of this coffee. Street pho and sandwiches, spring rolls and local beers. Vietnam knows how to speak to my heart.

Mugging experience aside, I am completely gratious for my time spent in such a glowing country. It is by far the most beautiful place I've been. The poverty and child labor are enough to rip your heart out, and again I feel that tug. It's God, reminding me of how sickningly sweet I have it and how I need to thank my lucky stars. I am also thankful for my inability to turn a blind eye to this country's culture. Everything lives to be seen.