Photo of the week... month?

September 27, 2010

mani walls at the Deurali Pass, Solu-Khumbu, Nepal

This time last year, I was two days into a three week trek from the middle hills of Nepal up through the Himalayas and back again. When I returned, having neither had nor desired internet access for nearly a month, I found myself fielding quite a few questions about my whereabouts. I find myself now in a similar situation, though the adventure is quite different and accessibility is certainly not the issue. My friends, I have embarked on a quest called Grad School, and I'm afraid it has effectively sent me off the grid for awhile... just not in such a literal sense this time. I am pleased to say that after much wandering, I think I've ended up where I'm supposed to be after all.

This photograph was taken at the top of the first mountain pass on my trek, traversed on this day last year, which is oddly appropriate having just cleared the first major hump, hurdle, mountain pass, of my academic career. Ah, and like a ripe cheddar, it appears I've only gotten cheesier with time. You know you missed me.

I'll be back.

Sunday Night Souvenir: a wooden turtle, mon!

Knowing that I'm fan of all things turtle, my sister, Laura, nabbed this lil' guy in Jamaica past spring. Truly a product of my Mom-mom, who is always after a good bargain, she was excited to hone her negotiating skills in the Ochos Rios craft market and left with quite a few steals.

A midsummer night's inspiration

"3 guys, 44 days, 11 countries, 18 flights, 38 thousand miles, an exploding volcano, 2 cameras and almost a terabyte of footage... all to turn 3 ambitious linear concepts based on movement, learning and food ....into 3 beautiful and hopefully compelling short films.....

= a trip of a lifetime."
 
Thanks to my Swiss Miss for sharing these incredible short films Eat, Learn, and Move (shot by Aussie Rick Mereki... who I keep wanting to call "Rick Moranis") that make me want to get up off my bum and LIVE.

Oh, and Andrew Lees- call me?

EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

LEARN from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Dublin Highlight: The Celt Pub

Traveling alone on my first trip to Dublin (I would return about a week later in the company of five gentlemen), afforded me the opportunity to wander aimlessly through the streets, sort out my mental map of the city at a leisurely pace, pop into a cafe on a whim or take an hour to find the perfect meal, to even give up entirely and plop down for a Guinness (or two... or three) in lieu of dinner. Having no competing interests to deal with can be extremely liberating, and I find that going for a long walk is often my favorite way to get to know a new city... even if a bit lonely at times. Ultimately, I do probably favor my time spent in Dublin with my companions. Being in the presence of people who make you happy is a simple enough luxury at home; being able to travel abroad with them can be an extraordinary treat. But while I prefer the conversation and the mere existence of companionship, I cannot deny that there are obvious merits of having alone time in a new place.

My aimless wandering in Dublin lead me to The Celt, a pub on Talbot Street, which is north of the Liffy River and away from the chaos and throngs of tourists in Temple Bar. Though they serve food and I wandered in hungry around 9:15 PM, my state of indecision and my indifference towards my growling stomach had me opting for a Guinness and a seat at a small table where I could read Joyce and rest my legs. By the time I was ready for another round, a duo with a guitar and fiddle had begun to play and I knew I wasn't going anywhere as long as there was music to be heard. The two young, handsome musicians energetically cycled through traditional Irish music, well-known Irish folk songs, classic covers, and even a rendition of Poker Face, which was surprisingly awesome. I put down my book and sat with a contented look on my face, Guinness in hand, until they finished at half eleven and I waltzed back to a good night's sleep at my hostel.

The following evening, I began a similar quest for food and ambiance, stopping by several "traditional" pubs recommended by Lonely Planet, only to be disgusted by the presence of big screen TVs and disappointed by the lack of the craic I was searching for. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? I headed right back to The Celt, where another night of live music was already underway, this time by a trio of a guitar, fiddle, and accordion. Though the offerings were similar, they were no less enjoyable than the previous night and I delighted in realizing I had already committed some of the Irish drinking/folk songs to memory.

Three of my favorites are Galway Girl, Whiskey in the Jar, and I'll Tell Me Ma (Belle of Belfast City), and I've included versions of each below. Just imagine you are sitting in an Irish pub, beverage of choice in hand, and listening to a handsome young lad (or lass) play one of these to a tiny, but enthusiastic, crowd.

Though I gushed about it when my companions arrived, I never ended up going back with them. Sorry, guys-- we'll always have Dublin, yes, but it seems like only I will have The Celt.

If you go: The Celt is located at 81 Talbot Street. They have live music 7 days a week beginning at 9:30 PM. Get there early to grab a seat!

What ever happened to Ireland?

A dead computer battery.

A few days of sailing on the Chesapeake Bay, away from said misbehaving computer.

A few hundred Ireland photos to sort through and upload to a friend's server so that he can compile a huge collection of photographs from the three photographers on the trip.

Excuses, excuses, I know.

There's a lot of Ireland to go around, and I'll be getting to it very soon. Until then, let me pay tribute to the footwear that carried me from Baltimore to New York and all over the Emerald Isle. Because my feet is my only carriage-- if you don't count an Aer Lingus plane, several buses, and a Ford Mondeo.

Inch Beach, Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, Republic of Ireland

New York bagels

If there is anything guaranteed to make you feel even more gross after a day of international travel, it is schlepping your luggage through the NYC subway in the summertime. Fact.

My gracious host for the night, guest blogger and frequent travel buddy, Julie, was kind enough to point out that I didn't exactly smell like roses after my 12 hours of travel that deposited me at Columbus Circle, fresh off the 1 train. Kinder still, she let me use her shower. What a friend.

But I ask you... how many things are better than waking up to a gorgeous morning in the Big Apple, feeling surprisingly not jet-lagged (though I have a feeling I may be speaking too soon), and walking a few blocks to get a fresh bagel with scallion cream cheese and lox? Definite points for America, my friends.

I'm back in action after over two weeks in Ireland that far exceeded my (already high) expectations. Over the next couple weeks I'll be detoxing (so much meat and Guinness!) and decompressing, revisiting the trip that took me through historically significant cities and breathtaking natural wonders, as a solo journey and in the company of old and new friends. This is also exciting for me, as it is my first time traveling internationally since starting Litterulae ab Mundano a few months ago. Like always, my appetite for travel has been whetted, but my wanderlust heart is left longing for more...

Running while traveling

I write a silly running blog, so when Lindsey asked me to guest-post on her blog, my immediate thought was, "I have to make this work as a cross-post!." However, I then suffered from a bout of blogger's block, so I have to give a nod to my fellow guest blogger, Ursina, for coming up with this subject and Runners World for sending out a timely "Running while Traveling" email.

Some of my best travel experiences have come at times when I've combined physical activity, be it running, hiking or biking, with discovering a new place. But as I'll be traveling a little bit at the end of the summer while training for a marathon (admittedly domestically, I'm not a jet-setter like my dear blog-host), I will focus on running and leave hiking and biking for another day. 

Lindsey's friend Kate has done a great job of covering Lyon, the city in France where I studied abroad. Part of what made my experience in Lyon special was getting to know the city through long runs to the Parc Tete d'Or or along the Rhone river. While running in a new city isn't without its downsides (older French ladies who quite ostentatiously turn their noses up at women wearing shorts come to mind), it is a great way to get to know parts of the city a bit further than walking distance.

The other advantage of running in a new place is that you get the chance to discover parts of the city like a native. I live in NYC and still discover parts of Central Park or the running paths along the city's rivers that I hadn't previously known about. However, there are risks to just setting off on a run in one random direction in an unfamiliar city - the key to running in someplace unfamiliar is to plan ahead.

Runners World has a tool called "RouteFinder" in which one can plug in a city and find running routes that other runners have loaded into the system. While the international routes are a bit thin (I looked at Paris and Dublin), they still offer a decent range of distances and the ability to map. http://www.runnersworld.com/route/routefinder.html

MapMyRun has tools to track running distance and has a community feature where you can see runs that other runners post. http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/

RunThePlanet has tons of routes, including places to run in Antartica, if you're into that. http://www.runtheplanet.com/runningroutes/

My next bout of travel running will occur in Newport Beach, CA, where I've already discovered a few great runs (pictured).

Peace,

Julie

thanks so much to Julie for the post... and be sure to check out her running blog, Feet Don't Fail Me Now at http://feetdontfail.tumblr.com/

The other Swiss mountains

A guest post from a fellow citizen of the world. (Thanks so much to Ursina for writing about her native Switzerland while I'm away on vacation!)

Many images come to mind when thinking of Switzerland. For me they include my family and childhood memories. You might be thinking about cheeses and chocolates, watches and army knives, even tax havens and banks, and of course the Alps. The Alps do cover about 60% of the country and are the geographical aspect most important in our history, culture, and tourism. But when I think of Swiss mountains, I also think of the Jura Mountains, which cover about a tenth of the country stretching from Geneva in the Southwest to Basel in the North.  If you are thinking Jurassic Park right now, you are spot on. The Jurassic time period’s name is derived from the mountains. Lindsey would probably explain the etymology of the word right about now… so Wikipedia tells me "The name 'Jura' is derived from the Celtic root 'jor' which was latinized into 'juria,' meaning forest," thus forest mountains.

To me the name “Jura” means much more, it is also the name my family uses for the house from 1667 that my Mamama and grandfather bought over 40 years ago.  My parents recently renovated the house and it is frequently full of cousins, aunts, and assorted family dogs.  In fact, my parents are up there right now with Clemens (our German pointer). To further complicate these matters, there is also a Swiss canton (similar to a state) in the Jura Mountains region! The area has a very interesting history; it is here that Swiss watch making was born (the Watch Museum in Chaux-de-Fonds is a must), because the high altitude made farming in the area inefficient. This also makes it one of the poorest areas of Switzerland. This forms the backdrop to the creation of Switzerland’s youngest canton, Jura. After what my mom calls “an almost civil war” (which was just some uncivilized protests), the inhabitants of the area who speak French and are predominantly Catholic decided to secede from the predominantly German-speaking Protestant canton of Bern, the largest Swiss canton, and like anything in Switzerland, the entire country voted on it and approved the decision.  Interestingly, the southern part of the area decided to remain Bernese, and that’s where my family’s “Jura” house lies.

Beyond the history and fascinating geology, the area is a haven for any outdoor enthusiast (except the type looking for sharks). Hiking and biking, swimming and horseback riding, cross country skiing and even scooter rentals; there’s a trail, map, and place for everything. One of my favorite hikes is around the Étang de Gruère, a bog lake that you can swim in during the summertime. It’s refreshing, but if you kick up the bog bottom you come out covered in black stuff. Another favorite is climbing up the ladders and steep path through the Combe Grède chine to the top of Mount Chasseral; from the top you can see Mont Blanc in the Alps on a clear day. The scenery in the area is made even more beautiful by the many cows and horses that often graze together on the same meadows. Hiking paths routinely lead through the meadows and cows might even come up to you and give you a cow’s lick.

 Mount Chasseral, via

So next time you’re in Switzerland, consider a trip to the Jura, the other mountains, and stop by for a beer and some local cheese at our “Jura” and maybe you’ll even spot these twenty donkeys I encountered nearby last year.

the IMF buys me dinner (and a pint or two) in Northern Ireland

My adventures in the Emerald Isle must be upon me because tonight I dug into the IMF. Now this is my personal international monetary fund, not of the Dominique Strauss-Kahn variety, which lives in an old Harney and Sons tea tin and is home to a variety of currencies, current and retired, left over from trips abroad or received as souvenirs from others, as is the case of the now-extinct Austrian schillings and the Dutch guilder. Hunting for Euros and Pounds, I recovered only half a Euro, but discovered a whopping 12.45 pounds. Not bad for a raid on the IMF tin. Though I will be touching down in Dublin on Sunday morning, I will spend my first few days in Northern Ireland taking in the Antrim coast and the troubled political history (and extensive political murals) of Belfast and perhaps Derry/Londonderry where my 12.45 pounds should fetch a plate of fish and chips and pint. Maybe two if I'm lucky.

j'adore: Icelandic skyr

I'm currently having a breakfast of siggi's Icelandic style skyr, a rich, creamy yogurt made from skim milk and all natural ingredients that has 0 grams of fat, low sugar, and a whopping 14 grams of protein.

Skyr is the traditional yogurt of Iceland. It is made by incubating skim milk with live active cultures. The whey, the water naturally found in milk, is then strained away to make for a much thicker, creamier, concentrated yogurt. So to make just one cup of skyr, with all that water going out, you need 3-4 times the amount of milk required to make a regular cup of yogurt. As a result of this process skyr comes out with 2-3 times the protein count of standard yogurt.

Siggi's cup design also gets points for being eco-friendly. The cup is made of nearly 50% less plastic than the typical yogurt cup and is covered by a removable (and thus recyclable) cardboard sleeve.

So if all you know about Iceland is that they have had a string of badass summertime volcano eruptions (or maybe you heard about that time their economy was in shambles), now you can say that you've heard of a really delicious, nutritious, filling yogurt that hails from the tiny island nation. Even better, you could say you've tried it. Go on. Try it. So. Freaking. Good.

Also, is Iceland Hobbiton? (via). I have to go there. Iceland, I'm officially lusting after you. But only in the summer when there is almost endless sunlight. I don't need to add travel-induced SAD to my list of random ailments. So, get your act together, volcano-wise, but maybe not financially yet. In other words, I should probably make my way there while the dollar to króna exchange rate is still so favorable.

Sunday Night Souvenir: Nepalese Necklace

As I have mentioned before (though hopefully not ad nauseum... yet), shopping for unique jewelry is one of my favorite things to do while traveling. Realistically, when you get home, are you ever going to wear that dress that you bought for $3 in a Cambodian market, even if it was your go-to look across much of Southeast Asia? Or that edgy leather jacket that you spent a small fortune on in London that you just had to have even when it was too small and not really your style (a shout out to my sister)? Jewelry is perfect. Small enough that it doesn't take up room in your suitcase, it is the kind of investment that you just might hold on to forever and pass down to someone that shares similar genetics (who you can wow with your stories of world travel and Y2K). You are never going to gain or lose too much weight to wear a pair of earrings, and you never know when that wild necklace you bargained for on the streets of Bhaktapur is going to be the perfect statement piece for that little black dress.

While living in Nepal, I accumulated several such necklaces as personal souvenirs and gifts. The cost of purchasing small trinkets from local vendors is relatively low, and purchasing crafts can have a huge impact on low-income households that depend on such fickle business for survival. With those things in mind, I went through several periods where I was incessantly purchasing small crafts to bring home, such as necklaces and scarves, as it always gives me great pleasure to bring home gifts if my wallet and--possibly more importantly--my suitcase can afford them. Multi-strand beaded necklaces are traditionally worn by married women in Nepal (though such customs vary amongst the several different ethnic groups in the country). This is a different take on the beaded necklace-- one that probably exists more as an appeal to foreign travelers than as something commonly worn by Nepalese women-- with a large pendant inlaid with turquoise as the main attraction. It is bold, and though probably not suitable for most outfits, it is the perfect statement piece. Most importantly, though, it reminds me of a people and place that will forever remain close to my heart, cheesy as that statement may be.

Rocks for Jocks and Critical Film Studies in Lyon

So let me just start by saying that between Blogger shutting down at the end of last week and my own internet failing for several days this week, I have been a very bad blogger. So bad, in fact, that I failed to notice that the internet/Blogger swallowed entire posts whole last week, including another excellent escape to France with our friend, Kate. So suspend all disbelief, ignore time, and forget that K has just wrapped her second week of a brand spanking new dream job in the Big Apple- we are going back to Lyon.
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As is my gracious host Lindsey, I am an unimaginable archaeology geek. It's what I did in college. It's what I did after college. I've written stories about it, I might even someday write a book about it. It's my hands-down favorite thing to think about. Lyon: got it. Here are some pics from my first stop upon arriving in town, the Gallo-Roman ruins. I spent all day here Tuesday, and loved every second of it. I even tolerated French children on field trips. And less than full sun. But it was magical. The walk itself to get there was epic, not unlike urban hiking, but I think I might go back tomorrow.

So I love rocks. But my second love (which happens to encompass my so-called day-job) is film and television. So another pilgrimage here was to the Lumiere Museum, the house and collection where the Lumiere Brothers lived. They are the inventors of cinema and the house was filled with the first cinematography cameras and photographs and even screenings of the first-ever films. A very cool, very nerdy mecca. On the way over there I was listening to one of my podcasts about some atrocious movie out today and it was really wonderful, to think how "far" exactly storytelling has come.

only Lyon

Lyon is 100% the undiscovered gem of France. The city surrounds two rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, that create a little middle piece of the city. My friend lives just a few blocks from the Rhone and it's super easy to get everywhere on foot. It's much smaller and more manageable than Paris, and not quite as in-your-face charming, but feels like a city where people actually live. The river banks and parks along the water make it absolutely gorgeous. Great shopping, farmer's markets aplenty on the banks of the Rhone, and their "central park" is to die for. More to come!

 

 (this post brought to you by my friend & guest blogger Kate. For more of Kate's travels in France, check out her posts from Paris, Fountainebleau, and Avallon!)

au revoir Paris, bonjour Burgundy

Guest-blogger, friend, kindred spirit (my dad called that one), Kate, leaves the City of Light for the Burgundy region of France...

Avallon is undiscovered. It's small, dangerously charming. I couldn't find a thing about it before I went but I very much recommend. An old walled-in town center, several places for food and coffee, surrounded by farms and forests.

On the train from Beaune to Lyon. Like Amtrak, only a positive experience.

Also, this has nothing to do with France but I think it applies aptly to the lives of both Lindsey and myself. My boyfriend sent it to me while I'm away, which I hope informs the world as to what kind of man I have found. That is all. 

a Manhattanite in Paris (take deux)

Kate checks in again from gay ol' Paris. (for part one of Kate's adventures, go here)
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"Bonjour again! I have taken my sweet time writing another post, for the uninteresting reason that Internet has been elusive. Alas, I am now in Lyon. But much has happened in the meantime! I had 5 days total in Paris, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I walked everywhere, took the metro only once, as I had no schedule, time on my hands and streets to see. I ate approximately 26 chocolate croissants. I saw everything that I could, the Pantheon, the Louvre, a macaron place all my friends who studied abroad here recommended. At the end of the days, it was all about walking. I got lost, I wandered, I perused, I walked and walked and walked and walked. I think, despite the croissants, I may have lost weight. Miracles happen.

 View from the window of my friend's apartment in Paris. Lovely courtyard, standard. 

Pretty sure if you looked out the window at my NYC apartment you'd see someone dying or peeing.

Highlights: the Abesses neighborhood, just below the Sacre Coeur, great shopping. The Marais district, very chic, long winding cute cobble streets. Obviously: Shakespeare & Co, it was especially lovely on Friday since it's a British place and they were tres-psyched about the wedding.

Also, by Friday I was itching to get out of the city and so rather than going to Versailles, (I'd spent the previous day at the Louvre and was feeling like I'd never want to see another tourist again), so I went to Fontainebleau. It's another castle about 30 minutes outside the city. For one thing, it's free. For another, it's by a forest and absolutely gorgeous. Great walking paths and trees and nature and the estate grounds and gardens are super accessible and beautiful.

 Fontainebleau, the better thing to do than Versailles!

And the adventures continued! Stay tuned..."

in which our protagonist arrives in Paris

My lovely Guest-blogger, headband enthusiast, fellow-Quaker Kate has checked in from Paris...

"Bonjour! I made it alive to Paris after pulling an all-nighter for a friend's birthday in New York Saturday. God knows what time it is in my head by now but I spent the entire day walking the city. It is outrageously, outlandishly beautiful and infinitely walkable.

Coming from Manhattan, iPhone Google map in hand, I thought navigating would be a piece of cake. But then I remembered that Manhattan is on a numerical grid, it's a city for geographical dweebs or dummies. I got capital S Super lost yesterday, walking in big and small circles all the time, but who cares. I saw a thousand things in the stretch of a few hours.

Ate not one, not two, but three pain au chocolats. They're 1 Euro. Maybe tomorrow I'll go for a jog? Maybe.

Went to Shakespeare & Company, best stop of the day, which sounds lame since it's an English bookstore but it was around 6 after 7 or so hours on foot and in French and on no sleep. And it was Hemingway's hangout. I bought a book and they stamped it, tres cool.

Oh, and I said both "Gracias" and "Por favor" to my waiter last night at the creperie. Here's to a good night's sleep. On a Parisian couch."

The question is, Kate, what book did you purchase?

And oh the pre-several-time-zones-travel-all-nighter. I know that one all too well.

Closing thoughts:
Pain au chocolat! Be the death of me...

I want to be queen of the internets!

If you happen to be one of my "regulars" on Litterulae, you might notice some changes.  (Or you might have noticed some more subtle changes after big changes were scrapped.  Change is sometimes good- like a change in location through traveling!  But sometimes change is bad)  Bear with me, as I'm still trying to navigate my way through templates and html and will certainly be working out some kinks over the next few days while I really should instead be focusing my energy on big picture life things.  Isn't the internet just the best/worst thing to join forces with procrastination ever?

If you are one of my few precious regulars, thank you, spank you.  If you happen to follow along with Google Reader or a similar RSS feed, but aren't a public "follower," why don't you show some support (help a sista out?) and click the button, take the ride?  If bloglovin is more your style, you can now follow through there, as well.  But you should probably show me you love me and go both ways (insert really pathetic bisexuality joke here).

In an attempt to conquer social media/catch up with my peers/compensate for not having a smart phone, I also took the plunge and opened a tumblr account.  For all you tumblr folks out there, citizenmundi.tumblr.com is where it's at.  Think short and sweet version of insane wanderlust meets more random stuff about turtles with a heaping spoonful of the daily things that make my life awkward.  Oh, alright, heaping spoonful squared- who am I kidding?

What to look forward to...

Ireland.  And lots of it.  Now is as good a time as any to announce that I'll be spending half the month of June in Ireland traveling around by myself for a bit as well as staying with friends.  In a castle.  A castle?  A castle.  I'll be doing plenty of daydreaming and rough planning in the coming weeks, so help me out with that, OK?  In preparation, I will also be undertaking a bit of a literary challenge.  What better time than now to become better versed in Irish literature, culture, and history?

Guest Posts.  A lovely friend of mine leaves for Lyon soon and has kindly offered to contribute her talents to Litterulae (I said yes, of course).  With all the time I will be away in June, I will be looking for some guests to step in and keep this little exercise in narcissism up and running.  If you have an idea for a guest post that fits in with the general theme of this blog, send an email to citizenmundi{at}gmail{dot}com.  Think travel guides (could be just an insider's look at your city), amusing stories from the road, travel photography, a story behind a souvenir, your dream vacation...

More travels, more photography, more ridiculous stories.  I've barely scratched the surface of several years of traveling, and I'm still adventuring (and making an ass out of myself/learning valuable life lessons) whenever possible.  If there is anything in particular that you'd like to hear more about (or less about), leave some feedback in a comment or an email.  Seriously.

So there you have it.  Follow me, leave some feedback, help make me queen of the internets. 

Dylan the turtle endorses this blog.

photo of the day: Lindsu in Yeosu (S. Korea)

In another "one year ago today" post... I spent the evening of April 17, 2010 watching the sunset over the Yeoja Bay mud flats in Yeosu, Jollanam-do, South Korea.  Earlier that morning, I had gotten up at the ass crack of dawn after riding a bus all night from Seoul to hike a mountain for the sunrise.  Yes, I intended on watching that shit come full circle, baby.

During one year in Asia, I probably [intentionally]* experienced more sunrises than all previous years combined-- certainly something to think about as I am home and valuing sleep above all else, even though I am in no way under the same stresses I faced working in Seoul where I still managed to spend the weekends traveling and waking up to watch the sun rise.  Hmm...


*I say "intentionally," as I am not counting the innumerable sunrises I witnessed on the way to morning swim practices, as they were not quite appreciated for all they were.

for the love of snail mail

I am a dying breed.  I am a generous sender and gracious recipient of items carrying a stamp.  Put simply, I have quite the affinity for snail mail.  Though I appreciate the swiftness and ease of the email, part of me laments the waning of the hand-written letter as a means of communication.  Not that every correspondence need be rife with sentimentality, but there is something about snail mail that feels a bit more thoughtful than mail of the electronic nature.  That's not to say that every letter is inherently meaningful or affectionate, or that an email cannot be thoughtful and intimate (my own father's short, reflective emails while I've been away have been known to provoke emotional tears), but in this electronic age there is something special about receiving correspondence by way of the "old fashioned" post.

On the sender's side, I've found that it is nice to take a brief moment to write someone, with pen and ink, especially during times of prolonged absence.  With stationary and postcards abundant and cheap in Korea, I often carried writing supplies in my bag to jot down a funny story, recall a moment that made me think of a friend, repeat some ludicrous Konglish a student had uttered, or just to jot some something far from profound- a doodle, a friend's name in Korean, a random question on my mind- in one of my many Sakura Gelly Roll pens.  And just when I had completely forgotten about the mail on its 8,000 mile journey and was trudging through an exhausting day of work, there might be a little note in my inbox that a letter had arrived in the mail and was much appreciated.  Or maybe a year later, I would meet a friend's roommate only to be instantly recognized as "the postcard girl."  Or that.

Conversely, I am also a huge fan of receiving mail.  Maybe it is corny, but my weekend was brightened a little when Saturday's mail brought not one but two parcels- a thoughtful note that made me smile and laugh out loud and a book recommended and lent to me based on my interest in women and gender in the Middle East.  During my stay in Korea, coming home to mail never got old, and I was eager to liven up my dreary bedroom and classroom walls with bright cards of cartoon dinosaurs and octopi (my friends rock), tear-outs from The New York Times Magazine that arrived in a Christmas package, and postcard scenes of the USA.  I know that some people probably are not that fazed by snail mail, likely including some who frequently received my mailed musings from abroad, but if there's even a chance that I can make someone feel, even for just a moment, like somewhere out there someone is thinking of them, then mission accomplished.  Or maybe I'm just exerting my existence.  Read into it however you like.

Last week I received the following gem from Miss M, formerly of Australia, currently of Thailand (that brat), and while I wouldn't normally share my "private" dealings with M (you know, because postcards that can be read by anyone handling the mail are super duper private and the following clearly is meant for my eyes only), I just want the world to know that I am the "Dinotine" to her "Loveasaurus."

Also Amz Kelso, creator of this dinotastic image, you are awesome.  Just sayin'.

something doesn't quite fit (Bangkok)

The Loha Prasat pagoda--or Iron Monastery--within the Wat Ratchanatdaram Worawihan temple complex is an anomaly in the Thai temple architecture scene and the only one of its kind in the world after two similar structures in India (on which the temple was modeled) burnt to the ground.

 

It is also a great place to grab a cold beverage.

Just kidding.  I've always been a Coca-Cola gal.