Recap: Nepal Pt. 2

The 11 day trek to Everest Base Camp.

Back to the Kathmandu airport, this time with an even smaller backpack that I came with, the rest of my belongings in a plastic garbage bag shoved under someone's desk at the guesthouse. It was probably fine. We'd fly from Kathmandu to the Himalayan gateway, Lukla.. Via the infamous propeller plane known for embarking on more crashes than any other in the world.

Michelle was in tow, straight from Australia the night before. The night was spent packing and repacking the things we felt vital to our survival on the base of Mt. Everest. I can probably wear these socks 5 times instead of 3. These granola bars are worth the extra 10 pounds. Leave the stove behind. Went to sleep in the clothes we'd begin our journey in, and so it went.

The adventure started when the plane picked up speed on the runway. Moreso because the plane was a  glorified bus with wings, than an actual plane,  completed by the  handful of people who were crossing their fingers at takeoff. The noise of the propellers were remedied by complementary pieces of cotton balls to jam in our ears, and just to ease the tension...a melted piece of candy to eat on the way down.  Arrival in Lukla: walking out of the plane and looking across the expansive sea of Himalayas. My first thought: We're actually going higher? We saw nothing but the tiny airstrip and parking lot we landed in, panoramic snow-covered giants, and the one-street one-stop trekking village of Lukla. We had exactly 2 hours until we'd work our way into the mountain valleys and eventually to the entrance that so often lures climbers to the Everest summit.

The day would be a 4-hour hike to our first stop for the night. Quick itinerary review, a leisurely cup of milk tea, watch our local porters put 60 pounds of our own gear on their backs just to make us feel that much more amateur, lace up the boots, get this show on the road.

The first day was leisurely, so much so that after enjoying walking through the old Buddhist temples while taking in what was to be our scenery for the next 10 days and making comments about surprisingly easy this was going to be, we tossed around the idea of going for a run at our first stop. Rewind, let's be real. We were warned the first teahouse would the only house with running water (where the pipes weren't frozen). We spent the afternoon drinking tea, getting too cold after the sun went down, and chatting from our sleeping bags. The anticipatory fever had set it for what was to come, and we were cruising, unstoppable.

Once the altitude began to set in on Day 3 things got a little more real. The climb to Namche Bazaar was no joke. A full day of walking at a 60 degree incline nearing 10,000 feet and dealing with an obnoxious Canadian made for a physical and mental challenge. But this day, the day unlike any other, was marked with the first view of Everest's summit and heavy breathing to show for it. If the toll of this trip was nothing more than great exercise, sporadic fatigue and a couple of bone-chilling nights to take on the Everest region then hell, I can't think of anything better.

Day 4. Emerge from sleeping bag, change as fast as possible, eat fireside. Start the day, punch-in-the-face views, take off the 6 layers you needed 20 minutes earlier. Ridges, clif bars, photos, long-awaited lunch stop, bliss. Arrive at Dingboche tea house, holy altitude. Getting closer. Start reading, stop reading. Fire. Eat everything. Sleep. Repeat.

Day 5 and on. As stated from my journal:

Today-Day 5. 4 hours to Pheriche. Walking across rolling hills and ridges to a small town in the middle of a lost mountain valley, planted in the middle of panoramic Himalayas and no other sign of life besides the small string of smoke coming out of our teahouse's chimney. A British guy showed up late at night who had just completed our entire hike in 4 days. Including Kala Pattar which is 400m beyond Base Camp. He is a banker working in Hong Kong and has traveled to 60+ countries, but I was unimpressed by his "do it all to brag" front. What's the point of traveling if you remain an egocentric boaster? Obviously hasn't taken the right things away from his experiences. Had a pretty bad headache from the wind and altitude, but went away when I woke up. Had some cinnamon porridge for breakfast, definitely won't miss the cold mornings and warming up by the fires! Nothing like waking up in a down jacket and unthawing my water bottles before brushing teeth. But THAT, is the entire beauty of this.

Day 6. Peruche-Lobuche. Walked through a long, flat valley, then it was nothing but up. Had lunch at a really cool stop and rendezvous'd with some other trekkers we periodically see along the way. Definitely felt the altitude- teahouse with danger stairs. Sleepy, altitude-affected Sunshine.

Day 7. Lobuche-Gorak Shep-Base Camp. Very interesting day of terrain-the way to Gorak Shep wasn't bad, took a couple hours but a very slow and steep uphill that really elicited altitude breathing...Gorak Shep to Base Camp: Stopped for lunch at G.S., left after an hour for base camp. The first hour was fine and peaceful alongside Pema, Sunshine, and Lakpa. The second hour destroyed my head, never felt so out of it and light headed. I stopped to take a video after about 20 minutes of walking on sand and solid glacier, we all felt strong and chill, excitedly said the apparently classic "one hour to base camp!" line like idiots, and walked into a mental wall immediately to follow. It was amazing how thoughts and words just didn't form, how 3 steps felt like 30, and how my personality diminished for what would be the next 2 days until full oxygen levels were back in action. Perfect mentality to sum it up: It's all in the experience. Base Camp itself came with my attempts at a fist pump, a few pictures of the group and whatever dazed emotions I got across.

Thus: The awesome and unforgettable experience. The hike down was along a ridge that looked over at my guess to be what Mars looks like in 40mph winds, and Sunshine and I made it back to G.S. to accordingly sleep for the next 14 hours. What's crazy is that the walk itself is nothing, but the altitude literally makes every aspect of life seem like a huge task. (And we were only at 17,000ft- props to over-achievers.) Squeezed in a dinner of omelet, potatoes, and sherpa stew, sat by the fire for a few minutes, blew out the contents of my body in kleenex all night, nasty. Woke up. Early to start the trek from G.S. back down. We covered 2 days worth of ascent in 3 hours...Unreal. Stopped for lunch in Periche and walked another hour to where we'd stay for the night (Sunset Hotel?) with an awesome dining room of surround windows and hot fires. Sunshine and I both noticed our personalities came back in the pre-Periche valley, evident from our loopy state.

2nd day down- walk to Namche Bazaar. Tiring walk, feeling good, arrived and played some pool with Pema, Lhakpa, and Sange. Woke up early again to finish the last day to Lukla- Three 6-hour days to descend the 7-day ascent.

Note: one beer after descent feels like 4.

Boom. Accomplished. Life is awesome.

Recap: Nepal Pt. 1

I decided
to spend the allocated month of vacation time in one place. I had the increasing desire to go somewhere and unlike most my previous travels, thoroughly get to know the country instead of steadily moving through it from one border to the next. The choice was Nepal...Nothing else was even remotely as appealing,  and now, only a handful of places are even remotely comparable.

I got to the airport in Seoul with an overloaded carry-on, a sleeping bag and jacket sewn into a pillow case (suckers), and for the first time checked a bag full of nothing else but sub-zero temp hiking gear, a camping stove, pocket knife, and 2 lb's of food. Two delayed layovers and 30 hours later I was staring at the wall of Himalayas out of the airplane window and thought they looked quite a bit like the "mountains" we call the rolling foothills of South Korea, not.

 I slept at the Rural Community Development Program's (free) guesthouse for volunteers in Kathmandu, woke up at 6 and caught the 7-hour bus ride south through rural Nepal to Chitwan, where I'd meet my new home-stay family and volunteer in the local orphanage for the next 5 days, ridiculous schedule to remain a constant. The orphanage consisted of a small classroom, kitchen with a few wooden picnic tables, and a good sized dormitory for the 26 kids who have lived their for the majority of their lives. I got a brief tour and rundown of my duties, then anxiously awaited their return from school. For one of the few times I've traveled with a vague idea of what's ahead, this was one of those great, anticipatory moments you can only sum up with a , "well, here we go!" as you brace for the dive.

I think of a homestay as an opportunity to learn more about the area and people that you otherwise, in a hostel or your own place, would not get. You're comfortable, you're offered food and a place to sleep, and able to come and go as you please. Perhaps this was the fleeting thought I had before being dropped off next to a rolling field grazed by several cows, and a small row of houses lost in the clouds of dust left by my disappearing vehicle. I was greeted by an 85 year old grandmother, received the matching red smear of a tikka on my forehead, and led to the well where I unceremoniously filled the first of many buckets of water, and hauled it to the animals. I was introduced to the other family members throughout the day as they came to and from their own chores and obligations. I was added to the ranks, and when I wasn't drinking milk tea, I was watering, and milking the animals. When I wasn't milking a buffalo, I was falling asleep to the melodic sounds of nightly Hindu bible encantations. At dawn, I left for the orphanage.

Little did I know,
these kids were used to volunteers and even though they were excited to see me, it wasn't the scream-and-run-to-the-foreigner scenario I originally envisioned. My biggest surprise was their casual English speaking abilities. A few minutes earlier I came to realize that for the 26 children filling this rural orphanage, 1 teacher is responsible for all ages, and all subjects. There are 3 "mothers" who function as the entire 24-hour staff, and a few cooks and cleaners show up to help out on the occasional afternoon. For such amazing English skills I was a little more than impressed, and the mothers' hard work and authority was the model of inspiring. I was asked to help with the English lessons, so I sat down and found myself in a discussion about the complexities of the water cycle (in English, I remind you) for the next hour and a half, with a bunch of critical 8 year-olds.

 When I wasn't being shown up by this group of climatology's next keynote speakers,
it was meal time or free time. My time restraint was feeling more frustrating, but I simply kept in mind: frustrations are a waste in time well spent. I was busy from sun-up to sun black.out. I was having a great time with children, and developing the brief but significant relationship with each of the five members in my host family. Our nights fell into the routine of eating around the cooking fire, and repeatedly having some of the most meaningful, and enlightening conversation I've had to this day. They days were numbered but the moments immeasurable, my return to Kathmandu feeling like I woke up from a month-long crazy dream with dirty clothes and forehead covered in red paint to show for it.  What just happened?  

Day 10. 

Return to the free guesthouse where I was supposedly meeting a longtime friend flying in from Australia, sometime between the hours of midnight and 4 am before catching the flight to begin the trek to Everest Base Camp. This was it. This was the traveling and living for outrageous plans that I thrive on. I took the first shower of the trip, caught up with a few other volunteers over several hot plates of rice and lentils, and went to bed. The sun was shining through the barred window when I woke up and was immediately convinced Michelle hadn't made it...The flights, an unexpected turn to work with. Then I heard the booming voice of another volunteer down the hall, "You Sara's friend?" Yep, she made it. Waking up to a new friend I hadn't seen in several years over, in the back alleys of residential Kathmandu, the stains of red paint still in my scalp and wearing the clothes I'd arrived in, was a reunion that emphasized that moment more than ever.

A Photo Challenge

I've been slacking on my documentation of life in Korea... Therefore, the next 8 days will be dedicated to the cause.  I've decided to upload one photo a day for the next week,  each one a representation of what I choose to be the defining moment of the day.  Hopefully, this will inspire me to focus on the significance of everyday life here,  portray the randomness and routine of a normal week,  and get into the habit of sharing those experiences more with friends and family at home, or if nothing else, for this next stretch of 8 days (Friday-Friday).

Day 1 starts today.  The last day will be next Friday, November 4th.  The week in photos begins.

Day 1: Friday 

DON'T BE FOOLED! I'm not actually clutching my broken neck or being rushed to the ER after a tragic accident.... I am however, on a little excursion to the hospital with my co-worker and friend Chloe. Since our little local hospital does not have an MRI machine, they offered us free (ambulance) transport to a bigger city 30 minutes away. Naturally we took advantage of the prime photo-op. The day was also complete with a (free) beef BBQ lunch in the hospital cafeteria, kindly hospital staff, and a 50% cash back on the MRI fee if the results turn out to be burdening.

Unfortunately, I needed the MRI to confirm the torn meniscus I unknowingly had from the car accident this past summer. (Usually a quick recovery, hopefully back in action in a few weeks...And how many people can say they get a discount on healthcare JUST for being injured?)


Day 2: Saturday

Pre-Mokpo Halloween party. Yet another night of Jeollanamdo teachers gathering in the masses from our representative locations for crazy, international, always memorable, dancing-all-night celebration of.........Whatever it was we gathered for.


Day 3: Sunday 

My favorite kind of free time :  Spending it around the Jangheung mountain valley and the place I call home.



Day 4: Monday

Hall-o-ween
Welcome to the first graders' first Halloween party. They were scared, there was screaming, they scared me back, they ate, they trick-or-treated at Sara Teacher's desk several times over, and their English room Halloween Round 1 put veterans to shame. I love my job, days like this are a simple and regular reminder.


Day 5: Tuesday 

Today was full of schedule changes and business. Then, two co-workers and I left school to catch the last day of a traditional art exhibit from local artists on the old side of town. We only had ten minutes to see the art before they closed for the day, and were lucky enough to see some of our own art teacher's featured work. On the way out I was handed an inked brush and told to sign the guestbook (handmade paper in a wooden binding - above).  I did, and was then asked to sign again on the next page, this time the horizontal way. I asked why.

"Welcome."


Day 6: Wednesday 

Guess who? Coffee, dinner, and apartment hangouts...Becoming a routine evening with this girl. Living in the same 30 mile radius for roughly 20 out of 24 years of life? I would say that's hard to beat. 




Day 7: Thursday 

The trust-walks
I came up with the idea to do trust-walks a year ago instead of the inadequate out-of-the-book "go two blocks and turn left" approach for learning directions. That day has since become my standout favorite for lessons I've taught, and has also turned into the most anticipated unit in the first grade class..Who acquired all their expectant knowledge from the second graders who did it last year.

 So the walks resumed today. The teams navigated across some serious area, surpassed the success of last year, and made for an awesome full day of 4 groups (120 students) learning English with battle scars to prove it.


Day 8: Friday 

The annual all-school festival at the coed and very rural school where I teach on Fridays. The school prepares performances for weeks and invites the community to watch. Essentially, it's a community-wide talent show involving anyone and everyone who wants to participate. The 30 students who make up the school's entirety danced,  acted, sang, and the like for a solid 4 hours...Followed by an afternoon of various sports competitions. 


...And here ends my eight-day photo journal. I wouldn't call it a challenge, but more of an enjoyable project. Conclusion: I woke up every day automatically thinking about the coming experiences of the day, and anticipated the things that would make it unique. On the day I wasn't sure what I'd use for a picture, I made sure to get out and do something. I'm not an avid journal-er, but it's always interesting to feel how your days change when you consciously want to remember them. Personal challenge #2: Remember that indefinitely.

4 Days in the Philippines

A few weeks ago, three of us decided to use up our five-day Korean holiday (Thanksgiving equivalent) to travel 20 hours via bus, two planes, a 10 hour layover in Manila, walks to airport coffee shops, a makeshift van, and a ferry to Boracay Island in the Philippines. Was the journey unnecessarily long? Possibly. Were we sleep deprived and dirty after a day of nonstop travel? Yeah. Did we unanimously break into laughter as we were led down an alleyway and into an oasis of palm trees, white sands, turquoise waters, and tribal tikki bars? Yes, and my streak of seemingly-endless-budget-travel-journeys-that-make-you-question-your-priorities was immediately redeemed once again.

Day 1 started upon our arrival at roughly 9 am, Boracay Time. What would be the next four days on the island felt like 20, and I couldn't decide if it felt more like time slowed down or stopped entirely. Regardless, we were sucked into the beach culture time zone that erased all worries and any memories of insignificant schedules.We swam, we explored, we ate amazing meals, we met new friends, we shared some San Miguels and cheers'd to our good fortune. Sunset started around 6pm. An audience filled the beach, soaked in the surroundings, and collectively watched the sky turn into a pink, orange, and red masterpiece for an hour to follow. It never failed, and the next days went along the same schedule, sunset time being the highlight of the day for what appeared to be the majority of the island. (You can also read about Gina and Alyssa's take of the trip here and here.)

What we saw of the Philippines was unreal, and when I think back on the four days we spent in paradise I know that I experienced island images that so many others only imagine. However, what I found engaging wasn't the beaches or  natural beauty they had to offer. I used to thrive on going to a beach (in any shape or form), stretching out a towel, lathering on some tanning oil and calling it a day. That's no longer appealing. Walking along the Boracay beaches only came with the inspiration to see the Philippines, and see what I didn't already know.  Who am I to ride banana boats and sip on mango daquiris?  I travel to gain life experience, and if I've learned anything so far, the only way to take from an experience is when you're first humbled by it. As good as the above activities can be, they only satisfy for so long.

With that, of the more significant things I'll take from this trip is a sequence of events.

It starts with the local bar we frequented over the 4 day span (keep reading.) It was run by locals, and located on its own secluded beach one 15-minute tuk-tuk ride out of mass tourist reach. What we heard through the grape vine was something along the lines of a few wooden tables in the middle of a "jungle" on the opposite side of the island, with a crew that never failed to supply good music and even better company. We were sold, and that's exactly what we found.

The locals we met at Jungle Bar and everywhere else on Boracay continuously baffled me with their hospitality, insight, and ability to inspire. Of the handful of people I  had  real conversations with, each one was more than willing to explain why their way of life was the foolproof way to happiness and why mine (as a Westerner) wasn't. I was intrigued, and continued to listen as the night progressed, all the way through the Jungle establishment filling up, the  music getting louder, the full moon celebration reaching its peak, and my camera disappearing.  Bummer! Luckily it was my small (NOT-SLR) camera, but the pictures were gone and the memories of the trip were seemingly lost forever. I did my best to look around for it, doing nothing but causing curiosity as to why I was crawling around in the sand and at people's dancing bare feet....Soon, a full out  Jungle-Bar wide search party had begun. Police became involved, stories of who-saw-it-last were in full debate, new friends joined me in sifting through some random sand, and the escalation became an amazing group effort.

My camera wasn't found...But that was the beauty of it. Of course no one actually cared if the tourist found her trusty point-and-shoot, because that's all it was. After a suspenseful wait to identify the camera that police retrieved from a tuk-tuk earlier in the evening as unfortunately "not mine", the group then (voluntarily) helped me to redefine the loss.

Archie 'voice of wisdom' got the job done, and this is my loose variation: "Backpacker who has come to our island for four days and knows nothing about life, your camera is a material thing, and you won't get anything out of life unless you see it for what it is. Live simply, live in the moment, the best memories are in your eyes." And so, I once again received help without asking for it, this time through Archie putting me in my place.

Then, the 30 people left on Jungle Bar's secluded beach sat down to watch the sunrise. A group of six or seven began playing wooden drums, one on a didgery doo. Everyone became silent, and listened to the sounds these musicians were creating. It's amazing what a few bongos can do together, but the music, like good music usually does, took over everyone. I looked out over the water and watched the sun rise for two hours. I sat in the sand next to a small group of like-minded strangers and best friend, listened to the best two hours of bongo-drumming I'll ever hear, let the surreal feel real, and refreshingly embraced the moments that a camera could never do justice.

Who says you need a ton of pictures to make something truly worthwhile? Archie put it best...The best memories are in your eyes. That's going to stick.


A picture found from that morning floating around on the internet later... Because you don't have the mental image.

The Comeback

The completion of one year teaching abroad, establishing a life in Korea that invoked the renewal of my contract for the completion of two, establishing relationships, traveling through SE Asia, a Taekwondo black belt, the four-week reunion with friends and family (and sister's wedding), goodbye's, hello's, an unfortunate car accident, the comeback, the Philippines. Transitions, decisions, future plans. These are the things that have consumed the past six months of my life until this point.  More significantly, these are a few things those six months have taught me.

1. A lifetime of Political Science and focus on Pre-Law followed by the spontaneous decision to pack my bags, and teach English to Korean middle schoolers has led me to one conclusion: plans change, who are we kidding.  Never have I been happier than when I max out on energy in the company of 30 middle schoolers, or more excited watching the daily breakthroughs they're capable of.  I've abandoned the original plan and embraced my role as a teacher. So thanks to spontaneity, wherever the path leads from here will decidedly move in that direction. Packing is just the beginning, never be too confident in the destination.

2.  Living with basic needs opens endless doors.  Enough said.  ("Oops." -Society)

                                                                                                  

3. "Home" is something you let happen. It's a choice to let yourself reach a certain amount of comfort in any given setting. The longer I've been away the simpler my requirements for feeling at home have become.

At this point, my recipe's down to a minimal:  Comfort, ease, and motivation.

With that combination, feeling content in my surroundings is an automatic. Letting my guard down in new situations, new places, and with new people is simple... And also follows the unspoken guideline for traveling and living overseas (the right way).  It's also easy to say I'm the most at home where I grew up, however most of my growing up to the person I'm becoming happened somewhere between my high school graduation and now, with the "to be continued" at a constant.  If anything the past months have shown me that it's possible to feel home in a few different scenarios, the 'different' shaping who you truly are.

The first of those homes is being in the company of family, regardless of the location. The second and newest addition, is in the reunion of old friends, with a cold beer in hand and uninhibited conversation. The third, is a moment of experiencing a new place in the world for the first time and thinking, in that never-ending second, that you're exactly where you should be.

Insert home here. 

The fourth and last home to fit the bill: Janghueng, South Korea.

...Drop the categorization, and these things are still my collective source of personal growth and motivation.  I traveled back to the US this past summer and made the discovery. I was removed from the home I'd become accustomed to in Korea, and walked off the first gate in San Fransisco utterly out of my element. I was uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and socially awkward. I was bowing to strangers in exchange for my change, using too many hand signals for a fluent conversation, and responding to questions with sounds only a Korean would consider human. But then my dad and sister picked me up in the MSP airport, I relaxed to live music and embraced the company of La Crosse companions, I soaked in the span of Lake Superior with new eyes, and let out the sigh of relief... It was good to be back.

I'm now back for my second year in Jangheung, (The Jang) South Korea. The month-long intro has consisted of the arrival of my lifelong best friend who is now living 30 minutes away, taking advantage of a national holiday and utilizing vacation time for Boracay Island in the Philippines (stories soon),  weekends with a tent, beach fire, and good company on some nearby islands, meeting countless new teachers starting their first year as I did a year ago, and the even crazier, daily routine of teaching hundreds of middle school girls from 9-5 pm, occasionally 7. Cheers to the comeback, let the year begin. More soon.

Sara

Priorities (February)

I'm now almost 2 months into my vacation and the free time, recent traveling, and periodic returns to my school have once again reminded me of why I moved to South Korea in the first place. I recently returned from spending 10 days in Indonesia which made strides in my first priority: explore the world and see Asia as much as possible. Returning to school for a few classes and graduation week reminded me of my second priority: strengthening as a teacher, and making a difference in the lives of the students however possible. Trips that take the unconventional route and avoid tourism as much as possible (next on the agenda) remind me of my third priority: continue to see everything as a potential for new adventures.  With that, Indonesia was a good trip and I'm glad I started my winter travels there before leaving for Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam tomorrow (2/12).

Beach life-Bali.

Ubud-Bali

2 weeks spent in Indonesia was marked with: awesome company and hospitality, heat waves, surfing waves, great food (minus the 48-hour bout of food poisoning), spending 7 of those days without shoes (pretty great), learning about the unique and fascinating  history and culture, a beach culture appealing enough to extend my plane ticket to the tune of 5 days, and a taxi driver named Ketut.

Checking In

12/26

I'm back! I'll first start by saying it's probably a good idea to stop making promises about updating this regularly, because that has definitely not been the case. I'm leaving for Indonesia in approximately 8 hours and since constant distractions have been getting the best of me, I thought I'd use a little free time to (briefly) check in here before checking in for the upcoming travels.

Fact: It is much easier to travel than to write about it.

The first semester has officially been over for 3 weeks, meaning the 3rd grade class (the oldest grade in middle school) graduated, a lot of them who I'm sad to see go after they made the semester so enjoyable, but with their graduation also comes a whole new class of 1st graders (the youngest in middle school) when the new semester starts in March. With that, the current break I'm on  has been consumed with extra classes, an online class with five 7-year olds on a remote island nearby, lesson planning...and now begins the traveling. Starting today until the end of next month, I'll be covering Jakarta, Bali, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam. Another bonus: A lifelong friend is flying in a few days after I return from Bali, and traveling with me for the remainder. I have a lot to be excited and thankful for, and especially glad I can share a little of my life in Korea with a good friend from home.

The holidays also brought unique and memorable experiences. Thanksgiving celebrations were a success, consisting of 12 people sitting on every surface of my house enjoying the endless rounds of food that was supplied by all and made with a collection of ingredients from all over the country. The menu included salad, mashed potatoes, 2 kinds of cranberry sauce, stuffing, pumpkin soup, marinated beef (turkeys are apparently hard to find), vegetables, pumpkin pie, 2 apple-pear pies (an apple-pear is a real fruit here...and an excellent creation), caramel brownies, and banana bread. That’s right, enough food to feed 30 and demolished by 12. The food marathon ended in those 12 people sprawled across the floor and unable to move for the next 2 hours while Ian kindly serenaded us with his guitar to ease the collectively shared agony. Needless to say it was all a joint effort. Christmas was a combination of Jangheung festivities (home), a Christmas party at a local orphanage where I'm able to volunteer, and a get-together in Mokpo with friends on Christmas day. New Years was made of an epic snow storm that turned into a cozy night at home with my neighbor Cassie and Gina who made the trek from Gwangju: Drinks, dancing, late-night Korean food, and a good time had by all... The best memories always come from spontaneity.

 Two months in a quiet town with freezing temperatures have also resulted in the acquiring of 5 Taekwondo belts...How, you might ask? Having a practice everyday, and being put on the fast track to a black-belt tournament in May. It's turned into an awesome hobby and now a steadily improving "skill" that hopefully won't be the demise of me when I'm sparring for a black belt in 4 months.

1/17- Taekwondo

It's amazing how fast the time is going, and the consistent distractions make it go even faster. I embrace the unpredictable routine and don't see it as a bad thing, and even though I miss everyone at home the aspect of being disconnected from a normal lifestyle and immersed in life here is both inspiring and liberating. I'm now off to Indonesia, and will talk to you all again soon...blog or no blog.

Have an awesome few weeks!