Happy Birthday to my great friend, and ex-garage-mate: 12FV
Been on a Vodka & Milk binge lately.
I find it difficult to post music here, especially after it's been posted in a million other blogs, but sometimes it's too hard to resist. Having recently discovered V&M, the beats have me flailing my arms, while fisting pumping through imaginary crowds, like a drug-induced lunatic, separated from all sorts of reality, inside my villa. It makes sense to move, or at the very least go with the 130+ bpm. I wonder if the cowbells have anything to do with it? It's probably just the synths.
Two Door Cinema Club - What You Know (Vodka & Milk Remix) by Vodkandmilk
Tupac - Do For Love (Vodka & Milk Remix) by Vodkandmilk
One of my students called me 'analog' today.
I had the w i d e s t smile on my face.
I love Fridays.
Not so much that they have a reputation for bringing in the weekend, but rather how my schedule plays out against their prototypical design. I have the luxury of not having to wake up at 7 am, but I did a few weeks ago to go hiking with my Aunt at 금암산(金巖山), 하남시, on the outskirts of Eastern Seoul. It was a beautiful morning, and had I realized that before I loaded the Fujifilm Neopan 400 (b&w), I might have just thrown in my sturdy Fujifilm Superia 200 or 400. But after looking through these pictures, I realize that b&w can be so much more meaningful to a film photographer than an explosion of color. So having awakened up a lot earlier than usual, I was a bit perplexed and disoriented, but I made my way out to Myeong-il Station in Dogok-dong to meet my Aunt in front of the Paris Baguette by the alloted time (can't say the bread's of français de qualite, but sometimes their baguettes make it worthwhile).
We drove for about 35-30 minutes to the base of 금암산(金巖山), where we paid a small entrance fee, and parked as far away as possible from the trail gate. With my earbuds plugged in snuggly, we started our ascent. The golden leaves carpeted the rocky trail, providing ample cushioning under our boots, yet covert and slippery as the night fox. Fortunately for us, the climb was not too congested, though when we did bump into a few passerby's, Korea's hiking culture of "dressing to tackle Mt. Everest on any given Sunday" was in full-effect. From the spit-spat shiny boots, to the breathable gortex pants, Northface jacket, and carbon trekking poles, these hikers take hiking seriously. There's no respect for those climbing in jeans and a hoodie.
My Aunt is usually extremely happy go lucky, and I have never seen her so distraught with something going on in her life (Then again, I've only seen her perhaps a handful of times). She's a devout Catholic. A benevolent house-wife, full of innocence, with an exuberance for life. Yet that morning a cloud of sadness seemed to be circling over her head. But as we made our way up, she seemed to forget what was going on in her life a few hundred meters below. How a hike can easily evaporate any traces of stress, sadness, and sedentariness. Another advice: Hiking is an amazing stress reliever.
After stopping briefly a few times to refresh our thirst, we finally made it to the top after two and a half hours! There was a vendor selling Makgeuli, instant ramen, and boiled eggs. Since I had to work later in the afternoon, we decided to forgo the Makgeuli. We found a prime spot to enjoy our celebratory snacks. While we were slurping up noodles, and peeling off the eggshells, I noticed that there were some other hikers crowded around the side of a railing, squeaking, whistling gibberish, trying to get something's attention. A split-second later, I hear a woman's high-pitched shriek, as if she was shocked having just seen the most horrific thing in her life, or perhaps it was purely overzealous excitement? After looking carefully, I noticed that there were a flock of small birds gathering around, intrigued by the human players in their natural habitat. But it wasn't us they were interested in, rather, it was the morsel of bread that was in their hands. I remembered at that point that I had some red-bean bread saved (ironically from Paris Baguette), so I broke up a few small pieces and put them in my Aunt's hand.
it was as if...
... an Angel had landed on her palm...
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