on my neighborhood

I have a love/hate/love relationship with my neighborhood. I loved it when I arrived in Seoul, and then gradually grew to detest many things about it. As 8 months(!) approaches in Seoul and I have a more considered perspective on the city, I am tilting back to the love side in a rather strong way. But my neighborhood is definitely a weird place to live.

What I am calling my neighborhood is basically the area within a 2o minute walk of my

apartment, which is from one subway station to the next. For a variety of reasons, I only walk one way out of my apartment. There are things in the other direction, just not interesting things. I say my neighborhood is weird because it isn't much of a neighborhood at all. It is home to far more companies and high rise offices than residents, although that isn't to say there are not a few of Seoul's ubiquitous high rise apartments also. But Yahoo! and AIG (bastards!) are "just around the corner", along with two of the taller office towers in Seoul. My neighborhood basically ends near the rather striking World Trade Center Seoul (picture #1).

Because of so many offices, you can find a huge number of restaurants, and a huge variety of food. I know I sing the virtues of Seoul's food often, but my neighborhood offers more in the way of international cuisine, and sadly chain restaurants, than can be found in most other parts of the city. The downside being that as they cater to businessmen who probably have expense accounts, restaurants can be expensive in my area. Actually, the area immediately around my house has many larger restaurants, and a rather freakish number of Italian places, along with burger houses, coffee shops, and a belgium bar. It doesn't feel as "Korean" as other neighborhoods I visit, because rather than a real neighborhood it is merely a collection of "services" (unfortunately, that covers as much ground as the quotes imply) for businessman.

The lack of distinctiveness is why I hated my neighborhood for several months. It's that horrible abroad feeling when you find yourself in an area absent of local color, and you could be anywhere. Many places in Britain, including some parts of London, are like this, so I have come across this before. Of course, that is a slight exaggeration, but if you just pass through on occasion- as I tried to do- it can feel that way. My neighborhood is of course brimming with Korean restaurants, some quite cheap and many offering traditional on the floor seating. The funny thing is, the better I get to know it, the more Korean it feels- not in a homey and comfortable sort of way, but as a way for me to peek into the business world in Korea, and some of you know that since I have only been a teacher, the world of business for me carries rich connotations it probably doesn't deserve. I guess even that is something in favor of my neighborhood- since it doesn't feel like a private neighborhood, I am able to observe my surroundings more carefully.

Also, my neighborhood is very convenient for work, it is close enough to where Jenny lives, and there is a huge shopping center that includes a 16 screen cinema and possibly every American fast food outlet in Korea if I am sick of eating good food. But it is FAR from most acceptable meeting points on weekends, and perhaps on almost the direct opposite side of Seoul to the best nightlife in the city. To get to the city center, it is at least one subway line change and 45 minutes. And remember, the Seoul subway is fast and efficient. Big place. I guess during the good weather it was useful as it is very near the '88 Olympic stadiums, 1 of which is still Seoul's main baseball stadium. Come to think of it, several months ago now when we went to our last baseball game, I won a car rental and then we had some dinner and drinks relatively close to home; that may in fact may be the actual night that my feelings towards my 'hood began to warm again. My subway line is even expanding so that I will be able to connect to other parts of the city faster, but the extension cannot come fast enough!

The outer limit of my neighborhood offers a hidden gem, and it's one of the few things in Seoul I know about that most others don't. That is major plus points for this neck of the woods. There is a wonderful, free creative design space called the Kring that hosts unusual exhibitions and has perhaps the cheapest coffee in Seoul (2,000 won!). It also has an independent cinema that shows wonderful old and new European and Asian cinema, sadly without English subtitles, but that didn't stop me from giving Los Amantes del Circulo Polar a try there. See that movie by the way!

I know it's easy to say that there are some great things about my neighborhood and some drawbacks, just like anywhere, but I guess my point is that I have learned that my neighborhood could not be just anywhere; it could only be in Seoul, and only in Gangnam. My feelings are more nuanced as time passes. Here's a fun fact I should have worked in somewhere more carefully- the main thoroughfare near my house, which is home to the aforementioned multinationals like Yahoo! and AIG and countless others, is named Tehranno. As in the city of Tehran. I was told that the street was named after the capital to symbolize the friendship between the two countries. I'm guessing this was the '70s, as apparently this gargantuan street was much smaller then. I wonder if Washington, DC street is some dark alley forgotten somewhere in the labyrinth of Seoul. Wouldn't surprise me...

on Seoul... further reflections

Fall has arrived, and the recent beautiful weather has encouraged me to take in some new adventures in Seoul. I have been busy for several weeks wandering through parks along the riverside, dining in all manner of delicious restaurants, and generally trying to make the most of this time before the cold, and the dark. (Although the dark is going to be much less of a problem in the winter than in recent years. Yay!) In short, I am feeling invigorated by Seoul. I have as a consequence been writing more- writing outside my blog, but nonetheless writing more- reading more, and drinking loads more coffee in order to do more.


I guess between my birthday and Busan, September felt like a busy travel month, and it was strange for October to arrive and have no foreseeable travel plans in the future. This is an entirely new feeling for me, one that I am not altogether comfortable with. Having said that, spending all this time in Seoul has brought out the better aspects of my city, and given me some time to reflect on it.


I think in my very first posting, I compared Seoul to Dallas. If you've never heard of my lost weekend in Dallas, this was not meant as a compliment. However, as the months have worn on I have been unable to move past this comparison. My recent travels within my own city (what a joyous sentence that is- how many people live in a city big enough that traveling around it can feel like a mini-holiday?) have caused me to amend this comparison. Seoul is like Dallas, or rather I should say Dallas is like Seoul. I mentioned previously the slogan "hi Seoul! Seoul of Asia." My new nomination is "Seoul- what Dallas aspires to be!" Dallas is a massive American megacity aspiring to be regionally significant. It is tall, grey, and sprawling. It is most famous for food, drink, and sports. Seoul is a regionally significant megacity that is becoming more globalized. And the food and drink! Seoul has an eating and drinking (in the imbibing sense) culture that exceeds almost anyplace I have visited. On almost any corner in Seoul, you can find the most amazing meat that you grill yourself while being offered unlimited quantities of fresh vegetables. I had the most amazing pork neck- so tender and with almost no fat, which is occasionally the negative of Korean meat- for about 8 USD recently. The restaurant is open air, so as to allow the smoke to escape, and also the amazing smells. I was a little hungry when I sat down, I was starving by the time we ordered, having smelled what was cooking (literally!) at the next table over. There is so much more to Korean cuisine than grilled meat, however I must admit I have not ventured into other dishes enough.


Seoul is not as grey and grim as made out; it is not green enough, true, but it has made strides in recent years and is getting better. Like New York, it has an ambitious riverside reclamation project, which I believe will turn the whole riverside into a long park on both sides of the river. And the sort of out-of-the-way Olympic park will soon be better linked to the rest of the city by the still expanding new subway line. After 8 months, when I hear about projects in Seoul, I generally just shrug and wonder when they will be completed. This is not out of apathy, it is just a general acceptance that Korean ambition will see the project quickly through, whereas in too many other cities ambitious urban plans seemingly are never set in motion. For another NYC parallel, how about the oft-discussed Freedom Tower? Seoul isn't there yet, but it is an increasingly prosperous and perhaps influential global city. Dallas may have its new alien spacecraft billion dollar stadium, but Seoul has the impressive world cup stadium, and its Olympic legacy is largely intact. I guess Dallas still has the sporting edge, but perhaps that is due to the more varied pursuits of Seoul- more galleries, more independent shops (as a man, is it ok to observe that Seoul seems to have more cool little independent clothing stores and designers than I have ever seen it given credit for?)

I think I intended this to be a fuller blog, and to explore more Seoul/Dallas parallels. I should explore how youthful Seoul is (I'm not going to bother looking it up, but I think I read somewhere that there are 44 universities in Seoul). When my friends visited, after spending several days in the nightlife centers, they had the shocking realization that there are NO old people in Seoul. Apart from Adjummas, that is, but that is a whole other entry, if not a serious sociological treatise. I digress... I should also explore Seoul's creative use of urban space, but I'm no expert and maybe this is dragging.

But I suppose all that can be saved with a simple sentence- I am feeling more excited to be living in Seoul, and feel a much greater sense of civic pride than I did upon arriving, really than I did a month ago. I certainly don't feel like an insider- I could not begin to set a story in Seoul, but I feel like I am gaining something intangible from this tangled, sprawling urban swirl.

on Busan

It is something of a guidebook cliche to use a phrase like "in order to understand ________ (insert country), you must visit ___________." Usually this sentence refers to some sort of ancient cultural site that is supposed to offer some insight into something resembling "national character". If you embark on such a visit, you usually see some old things, and... lots of tourists. So here is my risky preamble- if you want to understand Korea, you must visit Busan.

Busan is Korea's second city, a phrase that for me conjures up London-Birmingham/Manchester or Paris-Lyon/Marseille. In other words, leaving the rather glamourous capital for a pleasant provincial city that makes for a very pleasant weekend break. This is what I thought about Busan, and what I would guess many foreigners think as they board the KTX in Seoul station (more on this later). To imagine Busan this way is madly incorrect. Busan is a city of 3.5 million people- the city itself, not the suburbs and exurbs and whatever burbs have been created in America recently. 3.5 million- that is around the population of Berlin. Not exactly a place you can get to know in a weekend.

So Busan is bigger than I think most people expect. Why does it hold the key to understanding Korea? You'll note I said you must visit Busan to understand Korea. I mean to ponderously include several aspects of the visit, including the departure from Seoul, in order to reflect on Korea. It starts with the aforementioned train journey. Bear with me. Leaving my home in Seoul, which is relatively central and home to such multinational corporations as Yahoo! and AIG, it takes just under an hour by subway to get to Seoul station. One hour! This is not due to poor connectivity or a lousy subway system; the subway is modern and efficient, and most crucially, frequent and on time. It is due solely to the scale of Seoul. Koreans built this megacity from ruins 50 years ago, and now depending on which statistics you use, it is perhaps the 4th largest urban area in the world. And Seoul connects to Busan by the aforementioned KTX, the 300 k.p.h. train that puts you in the far corner of the peninsula in just 3 hours. Seoul has a rather cheesy slogan you can find in many parts of the city- Hi Seoul! Soul of Asia. I think a better slogan would be Korea: ruthlessly modernizing. But perhaps not everyone would find that so whimsical and positive.

Jenny and I arrived in Busan and I was informed our resort was about 40 minutes away by bus. This was my first wake up call that I would need to reassess what "Korea's second city" meant. We arrived at a 32 story gorgeous resort that had sweeping views of Busan's famous bridge, and... the other high rise apartments in the area, even newer than our resort and some positively dwarfing our building. Jenny (who is from Busan, for those few who didn't know) casually mentioned that the entire resort/apartment community didn't exist when she was young, that it had sprung up more or less in the last 10 years or so.

Imagine, all this was flat 20 years ago! Korea's ability to construct, and construct quickly, is astonishing. People who live in just a few places on earth- Shanghai for one, can fully grasp what it means that your city/country has COMPLETELY changed in the past 30-40 years.

Here is some trivia for all New York loving Yanks (my hand is in the air!). Where is the world's largest department store? You must have sensibly guessed Busan, which is the right answer. Macy's, an entire CITY BLOCK, has been eclipsed by a department store that I would say few outside of Korea have even heard of.

Busan is of course a port city, and in fact its shipbuilding was one of the early engines of Korean economic growth. I have visited some big ports like Barcelona and San Francisco, but the scale of activity in Busan was shocking. Dozens of boats moved through the near harbour. However, the harbour also proved the impetus for the realization that Korea is not all modern, modern, modern! There were a huge number of moderately sized, what I would assume were local, fishing boats. Giant container boats and smaller local moving through the same (relatively) small area made for a stark contrast.

The local fishing boats make a good jumping off point to consider some other reasons why understanding Busan is so essential to understanding Korea. For all its sweeping modernity, Korea has another side. We went to the wild Busan fish market, where perhaps every living thing found in the ocean is for sale to eat. I saw a woman wrestling with an octopus latching onto everything possible, including her, to avoid being gutted while still living (the woman one, as anyone who has come across an ajumma knew already). We passed by this meat:

Some may have guessed- that is shark meat. The bloody severed shark heads, far from being discreetly discarded, are about 6 inches in front of my feet as I take this picture. I'll spare you the "Jaws" esque photograph this time. Traditional markets have become so in vogue, and in many places like New York and London, so upscale that people flock to them to gape and sample as much as do any real purchasing. Not so in Busan, where this market has probably always been famous and will continue to be for simply offering what people expect: a huge variety of seafood freshly caught.

Not only that, but you can find restaurants in Busan that allow you to pick your (living) catch, and they slice it up for you to eat, sashimi style. I think some sort of health and safety regulations would scupper an idea like that in America or Britain, but it has no doubt been done very well for years here and they will continue in this way. So Busan, and indeed Seoul, provide some glimpses of traditional Korea that perhaps cities like London and New York no longer offer when thinking about England and America.

And all of this restless modernity I mentioned earlier is not exactly a finished product, either. Busan has only three subway lines, shocking for a city of that size in Europe or Japan/Korea, although geography plays a part in that, as Busan sprawls along a meandering coastline. And (slightly off topic) Seoul is without a direct rail link between the main international airport and the city center- normal for us yanks, but very poor form pretty much anywhere else on the planet, especially considering Incheon (Seoul) airport was recently named the world's best. So a weekend excursion between Seoul and Busan offers the best and worst of modern Korea- efficient subway snarled by an inhumanely large scale city, ultramodern rail travel, modern high rise apartments, traditional markets, an "anything goes" food culture that would certainly make many westerners squirm... and much more I'm sure.

on writing well

This is a blog of necessity rather than pleasure; I have been falling out of the writing habit recently, and that is dangerous ground for me. Struggling to write a blog, which by its very nature is self-indulgent, is a bad sign for someone trying to branch out into wider writing. If I can't selfishly write about my own thoughts and opinions, how will I possibly be able to create something new in my imagination?

I hope that one of the problems that all young writers (and I am a young writer, despite my recent unfortunate birthday) experience is the fear of being boring. I know I have a writing style, and I know it needs a great deal of further development. I have recently grudgingly accepted that this requires writing. Sounds so obvious, doesn't it? But it is very easy to indulge the notion that critical reading can be as beneficial to a writer as pounding the keyboard. I am reading two frustrating books at the moment- enjoyable, well written, flawed books. For example, one is by Erik Larson, who wrote the must-read, absolutely amazing The Devil in the White City. That book (it's nonfiction, but the most exciting nonfiction I have ever read) juxtaposes the story of Daniel H. Burnham's architectural achievements with the story of the gruesome murderer Dr. Holmes as their lives strangely intersect in late 19th century America. His newer book that I am currently reading? It juxtaposes the scientific achievements of Guglielmo Marconi with the story of an unlikely murderer around the turn of the 20th century. Wonderfully gripping stuff, but perhaps you can see my frustration. I enjoy this book without being in awe of it. Yet I am awed by the prospect of writing myself. Larson certainly has his niche, but I don't. I don't even really want to be the sort of writer who falls into an easy niche, and yet I strongly feel the need to find a fixed voice. Sometimes I wonder with each new place, each new adventure, if I don't set myself farther from an axis that would help define a voice.

I seek a voice, yet I suppose almost all of you who actually read these things know that perhaps my favorite word is "polymath". I admire writers who succeed in multiple formats, such as Tim Parks and Orhan Pamuk. I believe I could develop along these lines, and yet the authors who absolutely floor me do not follow this style. They write works with an authoritative voice that could only be theirs. Anyone who has struggled through one of my favorites, Blood Meridian, should understand exactly what I mean. And it should probably be noted that for all his considerable talents Pamuk could not be anything other than a Turkish intellectual. Saramago would not be Saramago were he not a self exiled Portuguese communist. The authors who really floor me, Saramago for one, Roberto Calasso for another, have an absolute command of their unique and authoritative voice. I have tried to write in London and New York; I am unable to do so. I know the neighborhoods, I can create the people and visualize actions, but the crucial element of authenticity is missing. I have lost touch with the midwest; where does that leave me? Struggling to write!

Back to boring again. You'll have to trust me, but here is a little exercise I just did. I took the book next to me on my desk and opened it to a random page and read the first sentences that I saw. Here they are: "She looked at me, and I raised my hands in a gesture that said, You're on your own, kid. I got off the bike and joined her on the road." (author's italics). It's a pretty ordinary, boring sentence. There's a story there, sure, but the two sentences are almost bland. They come from a 900 page book, which is no doubt filled with thousands of such sentences. Yet somehow this collection becomes an idiosyncratic voice, one that can sustain a LONG story. It's tough as a writer to look over a few paragraphs, or a few thousand words, and not feel that no one would ever want to read what you have written. A few sentences perhaps, maybe a punchline of sorts. But the whole thing? Inconceivable!

I should come out of this reflecting on what it is that I do know. I suppose you could say, rather optimistically, that my voice is currently "happy uncertainty." That sounds better than "frustrated and empty." Perhaps one day a critic will note that the lack of place in my writing gives it an everyman quality. Maybe that's my problem- my literary mind seeks to completely reject my most available strength- diversity of experience. Perhaps, for an uncertain optimist, that rejection can be the impetus to real growth...

on identity

Turning 30 has certainly brought out my reflective side, but I have been unable thus far to channel my myriad thoughts into a single cohesive direction. This is actually attempt number 4...

Tim Parks, in one of his many wonderful essays, wrote that if he had to choose a phrase whose meaning has eroded in Western society, he would opt for "figure of authority". As a teacher I can easily agree with this notion, but recent events have prompted me to reflect "public discourse" might be the best example of a lost phrase. Watching footage of a Congressman being lionized (by, it must be said, a small but vocal frightened minority) for denouncing the president during a speech fills me with great sadness. It's amazing how many people agree that health care needs to be reformed and yet a shockingly ill informed minority might be able to scupper the whole thing, and affect Obama's entire presidency in the process. How can one logically hold discourse with those comparing the president to Hitler, and ignorantly lumping facism, socialism, and communism into one -ism group? I recently read Obama has been criticised by the right for appointing czars. We don't have czars in America! Or perhaps more colloquially, "We ain't got no t-sars in 'Merica. Bless." The first president to appoint a czar was none other than that liberal icon, Ronald Reagan. Facts have no place in an irrational rant.

It fills me with a sense of dread to think that I may, in 18 months time, be returning to an America where a fading majority (old and white) cling to power through deceit and fear mongering. I first went abroad, to Europe, in the spring following 9/11. The outpouring of support and goodwill was palpable toward America at that time. I was proud to be an American. I can no longer say that. I am American, and remain hopeful that my country can once again lead, but my feelings toward my home for the first 22 years of my life have become shockingly ambivalent.

Perhaps another eroding phrase is "national character". As society fragments and more and more niche interests erode the cultural mainstream, perhaps it is inevitable that a word like "American" or "British" loses its past connotations. I would have lamented this 10 years ago, but now I feel that if that is what it takes to be progressive and dynamic, 2 words that certainly applied to the America of 100 years ago, so be it. America has become nothing more than the easiest country for me to call my home, not the country that I dream of returning to.

I have always seen some value in reflecting on the names we give ourselves. I mean names that define us, like "teacher" or "son" or "reader". For me, I think "American" might have been supplanted by "Anglophile" and then "Europhile". This was justifiable when I lived in Europe, and even to a certain extent I could cling to this as nostalgia during my time in New York. But it has been more than a year since I could identify myself at least as living on the European continent. So where does that leave me now, a Europhile socialist American living in Asia for the next 18 months or so? No doubt that sentence would leave me condemned and discarded by certain segments of America, although it must be said welcomed by others who share similar views to my own.

America has been a stepping stone for me and given me access to places and wonderful memories I would not have dreamed of ten years ago. It is a place I have fond memories of and can see myself living in the future. Why does this leave me, an American, with a feelings of moroseness, frustration, and antipathy?...

on work (but not really)...

Oh yeah. I moved to Korea because there was a job here, a job I hoped would be a good one for a year and offer some new experiences. I think I have mentioned before that Korea has greatly exceeded all of my somewhat cautious expectations. I have a good job teaching mostly engaged students. There are a few things that bother me- I wish I could communicate with more colleagues at school. Hell, I wish I could communicate with Jenny at all at school... I wish it didn't take 30 seconds more than it should to calm the class down and begin (it sounds like such a short time, but in teacher time that is an age). It is not that they are badly behaved, far from it. They are just very noisy and I am speaking in a language some of them don't quite fully grasp (to put it loosely).

Some of you not in Korea are no doubt thinking "calm them down?" They're Asian, surely they just sit there in silence listening to me extrapolating the nuances of the English language for them. But of course this is not the case. Korean teenagers are still teenagers are still teenagers, and while they are quiet and respectful during my lessons, during the 10 minute passing period they are loud, talking and texting, listening to MP3s, and arriving after the bell. Things you would never see, especially in an American school, are normal here. And my perception is the kids are more or less left to themselves during this time- not that I would understand the words, but I don't think more than once this year has a member of staff come out of their office or classroom to tell students to be quiet. What a change from England then. So for me, there is some disconnect between seeing Korean teenagers acting like "normal" teens (what teen, anywhere, is normal, I ask you...) and the silent and respectful young adults in my classroom. So this brings me to my school's festival.

Over the course of a day and a half, lessons were suspended at my school while all manner of games, competitions, performances, and other fun things took the place of the normal, staid day. It felt like a culture I belonged to, like an American school. Certainly any English readers are now confused, as schools across prisons are merely youth prisons. And although I know one teacher put in a huge amount of time to organize a successful festival, when the day finally came, it seemed like the students were running everything themselves. I have no idea if or when attendance was taken; certainly it didn't seem like all the students were present. I don't think anyone cared. For a country obsessed with testing, and one that uses what I don't feel bad calling outdated pedagogical methods, it was so strange to see students assuming leadership and being so proactive. In a strange way, although I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying, it was the day I felt most connected to my school, because the culture that day was one I understood. When a couple of very brave teachers did some amazing singing and even some outrageous dancing, and all the students clapped and cheered them on, you could have been anywhere in the world (except Britain). Students danced and sang in front of a full gym, and their peers cheered and encouraged them.

So what? I have proven Korean teenagers are not automatons, which logic would finally show anyone, no matter what sort of prejudices they might hold. I suppose this is a good example of the warmth and happiness slightly below the surface that so many Koreans have. Actually, once again, in the end, it is simpler and more personal than that. Every day, I show up on time, teach my classes, thank my students and co-teachers, and go home. I teach good lessons, plan when I must, and spend too much of my day on facebook and soccer websites and blogs. Even though I eat lunch in the staff canteen every day, most days I might as well be dining alone. But for one day, when the lights dimmed and the lessons went untaught, for that I day I was blissfully the same as my Korean colleagues, just another face in the crowd. I was normal. Just like Korean teenagers.

on Bangkok

This blog entry is my nemesis; I have been thinking about it for more than a week now, and even started it last night. I reached a whopping two sentences (fewer words than just this) before succumbing to frustration. I liked Bangkok, for a variety of I think strange and personal reasons, but somehow trying to weave my ideas into some bare description of the city fails miserably.

Bangkok is just another big city. For as long as I can remember, I have resisted this phrase. London is not Paris, and New York is far different from London, despite what many on both sides of the Atlantic seem to believe (or is it like to tell themselves?). But Bangkok, well, it did remind of Seoul. No definable center. A scattered skyline. Cheap, but slightly inefficient, public transportation (in fairness to Seoul, it is positively light years ahead of Bangkok in this area). Seemingly good restaurants in every neighborhood. So why, if Bangkok offered nothing that felt new, did I like it?

First impressions matter. I cannot understand people who don't believe this. I am on the side that you can learn a tremendous amount about a person (or city) in a very short time. Bangkok airport is airy, modern, and convenient. It was easy to get on a bus that went straight to our hotel's street, and once we got to the hotel, my regular readers know what I saw- the Manchester United Bar and Restaurant of Thailand. How could I not be happy? Also, Jenny and I had agreed before we arrived on a loose itinerary. It pretty much consisted of Thai massages every day for her, shopping for some bargains, indulging in one temple for my curiosity, and finding good food. A very simple three and a half days, and of course we must avoid swine flu and watch the season kick off in the United bar. In long (I was going to say short but that wasn't), after busying ourselves and getting too little sleep in Vietnam, Bangkok was going to be about indulgence. So my travel partner and I were in agreement and stuck to this. Also important.

And we did eat well, if not always cheaply. I found some very cool original T-shirts (being that I am the poster child for Stuff White People Like, of course finding bargain shirts in Thailand is important to me...) and Jenny bought some cheap, fashionable clothing. We had hour long massages together and even visited two amazing temples- they were right across the river from each other. Convenient for tourists- way to think WAY ahead Bangkok. Even a couple of people, perhaps inevitably, trying to rip us off couldn't dampen our mood.

Perhaps our most memorable experience was drinks at sunset on the roof of the Banyan Tree hotel- I love posh hotels; perhaps a morbid fascination with what I cannot have. I similarly crave a Swiss watch. But I believe our most memorable experience was the low point of Bangkok. The famous Kho San Road. The meeting point for seemingly every young English speaking backpacker in all Asia. Expat hang out street. We have a similar street/neighbourhood in Seoul, but Itaewon is more nuanced than this street. Jenny and I hated it, even though we gave it a look and were so thirsty we sat in a horrible bar for a couple of beers. It is the sort of place any 18 year old in the world would think is the most amazing place on earth- I know I would have felt this way. And sadly, some 28 year olds, and even older, still seemed drawn to it. Why live abroad to immerse yourself with foreigners? Oh, I forgot, others who choose to live abroad are "like minded". Hogwash, or Pugwash if you will (yeah Doylie!).

I'm spending too long on a low point when I mean to simply say that our mutual revulsion at our surroundings gave us quite a laugh, and we were glad to be back in our rather more affluent hotel neighbourhood soon after. Perhaps it is smugness, but something about hating that place made me like Bangkok more. Knowing I could avoid this, as no doubt many sensible foreigners do also (a friend mentioned it in an email with some tips about Bangkok, and hated it also) gave me a frame of reference in Bangkok that I lacked in Vietnam. I understood Bangkok through the prism of Seoul, whereas in Vietnam even Bosnia and Turkey were grossly inadequate primers for the visceral nature of Hanoi. So Bangkok was quickly comfortable- I forgot, there are even Boots and loads of cheap(er than Seoul) English magazines.

This is the last blog I write in one draft; from now on they will be more polished as I've just written too many words to say I liked Bangkok because I felt comfortable and relaxed there. No more travel blogs; I have several ideas I've been shelving while trying to write this frustrating piece.