Sorting through the piles of papers I always manage to accumulate, I came across some scribbles about Korea, written maybe a year ago:

 

Korea is old men with pink umbrellas and serious-faced peace signs. Korean is stray cats and service goods. It’s gifts and glances. It’s being naked in bathhouses and covering shoulders outside. It’s rain and dragon flies, snow and clear skies, smart phones and square glasses. It’s an endless photo shoot. It’s unwillingness to offend. It’s enjoyable weekends and days by myself. It’s time off school for holidays or exams and panic about open lessons. It is self-work, missing people, having hobbies. It’s making next-step plans. It’s passing through and staying for years. It’s learning Korean and being stared at. It’s not smiling at strangers but sharing fruit on mountains. It’s rice rice rice. It’s ‘good for health’. It is K-pop and maybes and lovely, giggling girls.

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