This Thanksgiving, we are thankful for many things, first and foremost of course, our two healthy, energetic, mischievous, miraculous boys. And I am thankful for Lesya’s love, patience, fighting spirit, and mad Martha Stewart skills. We’re also thankful for the blessing of a diplomat’s life abroad, in one of the great cities of the world, where the first 100 days of this chapter of our lives have delivered lasting memories, personal growth, and pure joy. For example, there’s... 1. Trick-or-treating on an Army base. I’ve never seen so many people celebrate Halloween with such passion, flair, and shameless excess. To be honest, I’m a little afraid of Christmas now. For us, weeks of planning and research, not to mention several visits to the candy aisle in the Commissary, went into this enterprise. Got to keep up with the Kims… We literally had busloads of kids come to our house, which was appropriately embellished with spider’s webs, rubber rats, black jack o’lanterns, monster shadows, and spooky sounds. And ours was by no means the most ambitious haunted house in the neighborhood - though it was the best, of course. My favorite moment was when our neighbor, a Colonel with the Defense Attache’s Office, greeted our eight-year old Captain America and said, “I normally outrank captains, but in this case, I salute you, sir. How ‘bout a fist bump? 2. Comiskey’s recreation center. With two boys and an aging former athlete in denial (yours truly), it is a dream come true to have within a 10-minute walk a driving range, batting cages, miniature golf course, table tennis, air hockey, foosball, billiards, and game room. What?! Yougoddabekiddinme. One of these days I’m gonna catch up to the fast balls in the “medium” cage and start lacing line drives to right. Right. I love playing putt-putt golf with the boys, especially when Danny says, “Let’s not keep score. Let’s play just for fun.” Then, if he gets ahead, he starts every hole by announcing how many strokes I’m behind. Where does he get that from, I wonder? 3. The T-ball field. In four months, to the best of my knowledge, the boys and I are the only ones to use the backstop and ball field for its intended purpose: the quintessential American pastime, our national game, base ball. Danny and I go every chance we get, rain or shine, and play full nine-inning simulated games, working through the entire roster of two Major League teams (usually somebody vs. the Orioles. And he pronounces it “vee-ess.”). Once, after playing for about an hour and a half in the heat, with the dog and dad panting to go home, Danny flatly refused. “Dad, are you kidding? It’s the bottom of the 8th, two outs, one man on, O’s down by a run. Come on! We can’t go now.” So we didn’t. Worst moment (but one I’ll never forget, because Daniel won’t let me). I had just been congratulating myself for my pinpoint control and high strikeout:walk ratio, marveling that I’d thrown probably 1,000 pitches without a single hit-by-pitch, when - you guessed it — one got away from me. I drilled Daniel in the ribs with a two seamer and he dropped like a stone, more shocked and angry than hurt, I believe. (Although this one really did hurt him more than it hurt me). I told him there’s no crying in baseball, walk it off, take your base, rub some dirt in it, etc. And he said, through tears, “That’s it! I’m telling mom.” And he did. But that was later, after we finished the game. Naturally, the Oriole’s won. 4. Our backyard. I can’t tell you how nice it is to have a backyard, and anyway, unless you have hyperactive boys and a crazy dog and an aging former athlete in denial who have lived in city apartments for years, you wouldn’t understand. But it is nice. A blessing. Shockingly, we’ve turned our backyard into a soccer field, which is a magnet for the neighborhood hooligans, and lets Lesya keep a close watch on 50% of her children. And it’s enabled us to reenact some epic World Cup moments, pitched battles, TD v KC, boys vee ess man, 2 on 1, no prisoners, no crying, and you’d better watch out for my wicked, wild Afroed Colombian defender, a bristly bush nicknamed Carlos Luis Gonzales Ruiz Santana. The immovable object. 5. Tim’s swimming. As a father, I’ve learned to treasure most the things our children do on their own, without our prompting or guidance, inspired by their own interests and passions. Especially when it’s difficult, but they do it anyway. It’s almost like they’re independent beings or something, driven by their own internal, innate desire. Where’d that come from? So when Timothy tried out for the Seoul Foreign School swim team, which is one of the best prep clubs in the country, we encouraged him, but were also, privately, guarded with our expectations. I don’t mind admitting I was surprised when Tim made the practice squad as a freshman and dedicated himself to getting better. Every day, I wake him up at 0530 (“What’s the “O” stand for? O my God, it’s early!”). He gets dressed and at 0545, Lesya drives him to school so he can be in the water by 0630. That’s 6:30 a.m. In the morning. For a teenage male. For our teenage male, who at the age of eight couldn’t even swim one length of the pool without grabbing the wall to rest. Now, he swims up to six kilometers a day, sometimes twice a day, spending as much as four hours in the water. Me, I hate getting wet. But I love watching that boy swim. 6. Ukrainian independence day. It’s sometimes difficult to be abroad during big national holidays, particularly when your country has been invaded, occupied, annexed, and threatened by an aggressive neighbor with a nasty temper and a historical grudge who denies your right to exist as an independent state. That’s what it’s been like for Lesya for the past year. A long, traumatic, painful year of protests and shouting, fighting and dying, anxiety and loss. When you live through such things daily, watching from afar, yet feeling it so close it hurts, you want to raise your flag high, let it fly over the rooftops, drape yourself in handmade cotton shirts embroidered with brilliant colors, and sing the song of your national anthem. And so that’s what we did. Lesya, Timothy, Daniel, and I went to a special morning Mass at the Orthodox cathedral in Seoul, then joined several Ukrainian friends on a long walk to City Hall, wearing our vishivankas and waving our flags, singing, “Ukraine is not yet dead…” 7. Ceramics festival in Ichon. We haven’t had many opportunities yet to travel outside of Seoul, but this was one notable exception. it was a thrill to leave the city limits (just) and visit this village, which also hosts the annual rice festival. (They really know how to have a good time in Ichon, let me tell you). Poor Danny didn’t want to go at all. Timothy was on a Boy Scout campout at an Air Force base that weekend, so Daniel was by himself, and turned out to be the only kid on the trip. “Ceramics? Ceramics?! It’s 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday and I’m the only kid on the trip. I don’t want to go. What’s ceramics?” After an hour and a half in a small van with a bunch of cheerful American potterybarnstormers, Daniel was convinced he didn’t want to go, and had no interest in learning about ceramics. And then we arrived, and he was the star of the show. A cute little blonde boy with an American Embassy delegation in a Korean village? Instant celebrity. Step right up, just one more photo, what brings you to Ichon, right this way, etc. He didn’t seem to mind the attention, especially once he got his hands dirty behind the potter’s wheel and bought a bow and arrow set. He said the flash photography did make it hard to concentrate on decorating his vase, however. Ah, the price of fame… 8. 39 Steps. Timothy is quite a character and we love him for it. One day, for reasons that still escape me, he insisted on wearing his Halloween costume to the neighborhood park, even though it was nowhere near Halloween (nor was it anywhere near Yongsan Army Garrison, for that matter). Ordinarily, that’s not a big deal, right? Kids wear costumes all the time, football uniforms, cops and robbers, that sort of thing. Tim’s costume was a horse. The kind you step into and wear, a full body suit. Most kids would have been self-conscious and shy, afraid of attracting attention, falling down, or getting beat up. But not our boy. He stepped into his horse suit and galloped off, alone and delighted. I just wish I had a photo so I could break it out on his wedding day. Anyway, these days, when our character gets a chance to play other characters, we never miss it. We’re proud of his acting skills and the courage, dedication, and loud voice it takes to be a big hit in a high school play. And he delivered. Just two months after arriving in Seoul, Tim was cast in the school play, 39 Steps. He played The Crofter, an old Scottish shepherd, and husband of Margaret, a 24-year old lass with a wayward spirit and a taste for adventure. (Tim asked me to list his role as The Crofter/Ensemble. “Don’t forget Ensemble,” he insisted. Apparently, that’s important). I gotta say, he’s got that Scottish accent down pat. He practiced by reciting the Tim the Sorcerer scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (youtube/watch?v=JTbrIo1p-So). Had me laughing out loud. And the old ladies could hear him in the back row, no worries. 9. Itaewon and Insadong. Four months ago, I had never heard of these places. Now, we’re as comfortable on these streets as we are in our own backyard. Both neighborhoods have great shopping, food, and people watching. My favorite memory of Insadong is watching Lesya eat that fried squid and Tim suck down that coconut milk. And Daniel go to work on that funky, U-shaped ice cream cone. Good times. As for Itaewon, there’s the famous Mr. Yang the Tailor (don’t forget to tell him we sent you - that’s worth a cool 10% to me). And there’s Zucca’s artisan gelato. I recommend the pistachio - tell Alessandro we said ciao. But my favorite time there so far was the date night after-dinner drink Lesya and I shared at the Miss Guinness pub. We felt like kids again, sneaking out, stealing away, free birds, not a care in the world. That was nice... 10. Sticks, leaves, and rocks. Maybe this is a result of spending three years in the steppes of Central Asia, where we would go months without seeing a tree. Seriously. Try that sometime. You’ll become a tree hugger faster than you can say, “DamnLonghairedLeftwingCollegekidsfromBerkeleyGetajobYoubum.” But the trees, and the leaves, and the sticks, in Seoul are to die for. I mean, for Daniel, that’s all he needs. And they’re *everywhere*. Manna from heaven, baby. So naturally we have a collection (front and back yards) that grows by the day, and each new wind storm brings a fresh harvest. And the leaves! They’re the size of a small child. Really. You know those cute Anne Geddes photos, where the babies look like peas in a pod? annegeddes. Well, with these leaves, she wouldn’t need to Photoshop all those pictures. You could outfit a toddler in one of these things. They’re massive. We’ve got three in our front window and they just about block out the sun. And then there’s The Rock. One of our favorite morning rituals, when Daniel races Lauren and Alexandra up the hill to the bus stop to see who’ll earn the honor of sitting on The Rock until the bus comes. The daily drama is a sight to see: the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, the dirty knees and soggy bottom a badge of honor. King of the world! Well, that’s about it, I guess. We have plenty more to be thankful for, including Korean baseball games, kimchi, hangul, the mountains, King Sejong, and sushi delivery. But I’ll save those for our next 100 days… Happy Thanksgiving! Kevin
Posted on: Fri, 28 Nov 2014 06:51:52 +0000
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