Holy shit, its done! The difference between an act of insanity and one of inspiration is a matter of perception. So when I told my ex Korean Co-teacher (whose idea of risky behavior is eating a carton of yogurt on the day of its expiration) that I was thinking of doing a two month bike tour of Korea; her overdramatic shock! horror! - what if you get a flat tire, or attacked by a pack of wild dogs - reaction was not much of a surprise. Her reaction was comically contrasted by my expat friends, who merely grunted something along the lines of Facebook us when you get there, if you ever get there... Let me explain. Korea is the kind of country where women can walk around in the wee hours of the morning without having to look over their shoulder in anxious anticipation of rapey lurkers with ill-intentions. As a result its citizens are prone to overreaction and disproportionate paranoia. An example are the seaside swimming regulations, where regardless of ability, you are restricted to an area no more than 4 - 5m from shore. All because one silly individual nearly drowned 6 years ago. So what if the water is waist deep and stiller than a glass of valpre; in Korea precaution is king. In Korea its not a day at the beach until you see a grown-ass man bobbing around in knee deep water, fully clad in a pink rubber floaty wearing a life jacket; and on those special occasions a bright colored swimming cap. So when I told my Ex co-teacher about my plans her reaction was nothing if not expected. But to be honest, Im not sure that I myself knew exactly what I was getting into; and its only now, in the clarity of retrospect, that I can say Holy Shit! I did it. I meandered through breathtaking valleys, braved the concrete sidelines of congested streets and wound around endless stretches of coastline. I labored uphill, muscles burning, only to cascade down again - my heart in my throat, hands throttling the brakes. I laughed and cried and danced; then laughed till I cried and danced while I laughed. I got lost, then found only to search and lose once more. My skin darkened, my muscles tightened and my appetite grew until consumption and release followed each other in blissful routine. I rode through mornings into dusk until my instincts sharpened and the day came when I could say look ma, no hands. And through my writing I touched those with secret plans of travel. I brought you along with me, riding coattail off my stories, creating adventures inside your head. I yearned to have you see yourself atop my saddle on your own journey, carried by my words; expanding our relived, dreamt up, imagined trip. And now I sit comfortably at my air conditioned desk, trying and failing to recapture the last two months as they slip through the sieve of memories past.
Posted on: Thu, 21 Aug 2014 01:26:39 +0000
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