Out with the old, in with the new. Throughout the cruel month of April, a grand permutation was under way. Little by little, winter's cold harsh winds subsided, along with its cold harsh rains, giving way to a warm spring breeze and an occasional light shower. Pear, apple, cherry, and dogwood trees have joined the evergreens, once nature's lone bearers of color, and now animate the landscape with their luscious green foliage. Hiding under the shade of these trees can be found flowers reaching for the sun. Azaleas, lilies, violets, along with Korea's national flower - the rose of Sharon - all together create a kaleidoscope of colorful blossoms on Seoul's hillsides. If one were perched upon one of these hills, they would have a panoramic view of the concrete jungle of Seoul - its once dull and dreary streets now adorned and enlivened with greenery.
Towering over one of these streets are several high-rise buildings, one of which is called the Koryo building. On the fifth floor of this particular building resides a man of lanky stature and cranky disposition. Lost in thought, he stands holding open the door of his refrigerator, peering into its hollow depths as if it were an empty cave. What is he searching for? He forgot. His mind is in overdrive - like a beehive that has been disturbed, surrounded by a swarm of angry bees. There is much to do, you see. His house in a general state of disorder - piles of books and clothes have been strewn about the floor waiting to be packed. These books lie next to other piles of various unwanted items awaiting their abysmal fate in a landfill somewhere. He closes the refrigerator door, walks to his window, and pensively observes the people scurrying to and fro, here and there, on the streets below. Why, and where to, are they scurrying? Who knows.
His attention is suddenly drawn to a large top-hat sitting on his window sill. It has been turned upside down and filled with small folded papers. He reaches into this hat, extracts and unfolds one these papers, and alas, it is a question. It reads:
"Bonjour Mon amie, Erik!
'Tis moi, Erwan, your future brother-in-law! Comment allez-vous? Je suis just finished swimming a few laps in le swimming poole, mon frere. As I was hanging up le speedos to dry, I thought of you. La pew! I heard that you went to a cave recently. Can you kindly expound on your recent adventures, monsieur? Merci, and adieu! - Erwan Le Floch, France"
Ah, so nice to hear from you Monsieur Le-Floch! And, I'm so honored that you associate me with your speedos, too. Allow me to answer your question, mon amie:
Huckleberry Finn Ferryboat Ride
On May 8th, 2010, a bus was leaving from downtown Seoul en route to Choong-Ju, central Korea. On this bus sat the Sensational Six: Pete Freeburg, Kelly Freeburg, Reuben Haggar, Holly Bonnema, Kaley Eastman, and myself. After a few hours of highway travel through the countryside, we finally arrived in central Korea and proceeded to board this ferry.
A three hour ferry ride ensued, navigating through a body of water encompassed by large rocky mountains.
Some of us took the liberty to prop up the old tired legs, and read a little "Gulliver's Travels"...
...while others intrepidly (or foolishly) momentarily entrusted their lives to the boat's railing...
...while still others took the time to relax under the sun.
This ferry ride was, for lack of better term, super-good. It made me think of Huckleberry Finn, biddin' his time, by-and-by, on that steamer rollin' down the Mississippi waters. We finally arrived at our next destination, which was a....
Or, at least so it seemed. Reminiscent of Jules Verne's novel, we plunged into the depths of the earth, via this convoluted subterranean cavern. It was indeed a different kind of beauty - a darker, more somber beauty. Its dim, corrugated walls echoed the groans of mother earth's bowels. The occasional light would cast grotesque black shadows of passer-byes onto the age-old substrata. Massive monoliths, stalactites and stalagmites made one wonder how long their formation had taken. As we descended, the rickety man-made stairways creaked ever so eerily. In such a colossal cavern, one would almost expect to encounter an insidious beast, such as a minotaur or Morlock. If that were the case, all would be lost. A shudder went down my spine, and I bit my mustache. But, alas, the most ferocious beast we encountered was an innocuous cricket.
I loved the above sign located at the end of the cavern. Interpret it however you wish. I chose to interpret it as a description of our fleeting, sublunary lives. Here for a moment, gone the next. (Oh, so deep... I know)
I'm reluctant to put on exhibition any photos of me striking out. My born-and-bred-to-play-baseball-brothers Joseph and Jesse would be utterly ashamed, and possibly lose any vestige of respect they have for me. But, Mark Nola? Hey, he's a different story:
Journey to the Center of the Earth
Or, at least so it seemed. Reminiscent of Jules Verne's novel, we plunged into the depths of the earth, via this convoluted subterranean cavern. It was indeed a different kind of beauty - a darker, more somber beauty. Its dim, corrugated walls echoed the groans of mother earth's bowels. The occasional light would cast grotesque black shadows of passer-byes onto the age-old substrata. Massive monoliths, stalactites and stalagmites made one wonder how long their formation had taken. As we descended, the rickety man-made stairways creaked ever so eerily. In such a colossal cavern, one would almost expect to encounter an insidious beast, such as a minotaur or Morlock. If that were the case, all would be lost. A shudder went down my spine, and I bit my mustache. But, alas, the most ferocious beast we encountered was an innocuous cricket.
I loved the above sign located at the end of the cavern. Interpret it however you wish. I chose to interpret it as a description of our fleeting, sublunary lives. Here for a moment, gone the next. (Oh, so deep... I know)
As a kernel of corn passes through the body's digestive tract unharmed, the Sensational Six passed through the bowels of this cavern relatively unscathed. It made for a great one day trip.
Beatbox Extravaganza
Allow me introduce to you, "Slayer". This is a two man CCM group, who occasionally performs special songs at church. On May 9th, Reuben Haggar and I were in need of a song to perform, and fast. 10 minutes prior to service, Reuben had a stroke of brilliance (brilliant ideas seldom strike me like this). We went out and talked about his idea of doing "Jesus Loves Me", the call-and-response beatbox version. He lead the song, I supplied the beatbox and the call-back, and we both got jiggy with it in the meantime.
Baseball Cages
On another occasion, we visited the baseball cages. There's not much to say here, other than we rocked the house. Or, at least Reuben, ex-baseball player and "Slayer" frontman, rocked the house:
I'm reluctant to put on exhibition any photos of me striking out. My born-and-bred-to-play-baseball-brothers Joseph and Jesse would be utterly ashamed, and possibly lose any vestige of respect they have for me. But, Mark Nola? Hey, he's a different story:
Yul-dong Park, Bundang
On May 15th, the Fabulous Four (Pete & Kelly Freeburg, Holly Schoephoerster, and yours truly) traveled down to Bundang, a ritzy upscale area in southeastern Seoul, for the sole purpose of bungee jumping. There was an air of excitement upon catching a glimpse of the 45 meter tower.
Understand, gentle readers, that a trip to Bundang is nothing to sneeze at, taking no less than 1.5 hours to reach. When we approached the tower, our air of excitement was suddenly gripped with an indefinable apprehension. Could it be? Is it possible? Is it... closed? Not exactly, but the term "closed" is synonymous with "sold out". Wait... Sold out?
Another shudder went down my spine, resulting in me once again biting my mustache. Do bungee jumping platform sell out? You wanna know what I think of this?
Well, I'm starving. I'm off to my new favorite restaurant to eat me some "beans and waffle". Adieu, good readers!
Understand, gentle readers, that a trip to Bundang is nothing to sneeze at, taking no less than 1.5 hours to reach. When we approached the tower, our air of excitement was suddenly gripped with an indefinable apprehension. Could it be? Is it possible? Is it... closed? Not exactly, but the term "closed" is synonymous with "sold out". Wait... Sold out?
Another shudder went down my spine, resulting in me once again biting my mustache. Do bungee jumping platform sell out? You wanna know what I think of this?
"Dear nefarious, monopolistic, pathetic excuse for a bungee jumping company,
Hello. My name is Erik. Great tower! But hey, listen.
If your company is suddenly shutdown by the Korean IRS for tax fraud and/or is visited by malevolent alien invaders who have traversed the universe with the sole intention of uprooting your platform with their tractor beam, then my wish has come true. Hey, have a great day! Your loyal patron,
Erik"
Well, I'm starving. I'm off to my new favorite restaurant to eat me some "beans and waffle". Adieu, good readers!
(To be continued..)
many of us are interested in hearing more about the beginning of this post, the part about the hustle and bustle of moving out and relocating and WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE HOMELESS, HOMIE!
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