the yusan or susup wedding

I'm not sure why I haven't done this before, but I will try to going forward. I'm talking about live Tweeting people! This past Saturday, the parentals got together for the Colonel Mustard and General Mustard wedding.

Anyway, I've decided to use the following hash tag for anything related to their wedding planning. Can't wait for actual tweeting at their wedding! Good repository for their children.

#yusanwedding

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growing older

Yesterday morning on MUNI, a doting mother sat next to me with her beautiful one-year old son sitting on her lap and securely harnessed to her shoulders and waste. He was quite vocal with his baby talk and attracted the admiration of everyone around them. I listened to her proudly share his little quirks with some of the MUNI patrons and found myself distorting my face to incite giggling each time he looked in my direction. At that moment, this thought occurred to me, [Spoiler Alert!] “How could Anakin Skywalker kill so many younglings? I just can't imagine taking a lightsaber to a child's head. Terrible, terrible.”

I am almost thirty; I am getting married in less than eight months. This is the type of thing I think about on a daily basis.

In meetings, when I am in deep thought, I wonder if my Batman t-shirt is washed for weekend wear. This morning, after a client call concluded early, I decided to spend my time researching ninja schools on Google (It looks like there are few realistic school options for me at this stage of my life).

Growing older is important.

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engaged encounter retreat

I thought I would write more frequently about our escapades as an engaged couple. I don’t think I’ve penned anything about the experience outside of the actual engagement proposal. It behooves me to be a bit more introspective on what’s going on. I’ll try to write more reflections in the remaining months, and I'm sure I'll be thankful for it in years to come.

This past weekend, Emmelle and I attended our mandatory Engaged Encounter retreat, hosted by the San Jose diocese (we preferred the San Francisco diocese but the cost was prohibitive). Thus, we begrudgingly trekked all the way to the Presentation Center in Los Gatos off of Highway 17. Upon arrival, I realized I had been to the retreat center previously as a sunday school teacher.

Honestly, I didn’t look forward to spending an entire weekend with strangers. I had just suffered through a weekend in a Munich hotel and wasn't looking forward to spending another weekend away from my cozy apartment. Nevertheless, I welcomed the opportunity to check another item off of our never-ending to-do list and at best, glean insights into the theology behind the Catholic sacrament of holy matrimony. I'll refrain from discussing the actual format and content of the retreat; I believe that should be experienced first-hand and not influenced by my sometimes romantic, other times cynical perspective. However, allow me to share some of the moments/personalities from the retreat that I'd like to keep in the memory bank:

Engaged Encounter graduates. We had two couples lead our retreat. Now, I like to identify people by random nicknames as evident on this blog. The following are actual names of three out of our four retreat masters: Buzz, Chip and Weedgee (pronounced like "Ouija board"). Chip and Weedgee are both retired and grandparents. They are in the twilight of their relationship but made it a point to openly discuss their sexual prowess and potency. Buzz and his wife Anita love bikes and country music (and possibly guns). They played two country love songs during the retreat to put the retreatants in the proper introspective mood. In both instances, they stared into one another's eye sockets and softly sang the lyrics to each other. Most of the girls leaned over to put their head on their partners' shoulders during these musical interludes. I thought that they would dim the lights and request that we make out with each other (they didn't). At no point did Emmelle ask me to dance. Regrets.

High school reunion. When we first arrived, I checked out Emmelle's room on the second floor. While walking down the steps, I see a very familiar face. To my astonishment, it's one of Colonel Mustard's close friends from high school. I am shocked, almost speechless. He is calm and appears to have expected our first encounter in over a decade to be at a Catholic engagement retreat. To top it off, Emmelle knows his dad. She also knows his fiancé's boss. Small world.

Don't forget the Giants. At the beginning of the retreat, we (the men) all took an immediate liking to Buzz because he acknowledged the importance of keeping tabs on the Giants-Phillies Game 6 NLCS contest. We all followed on our phones quietly Saturday night. And then Chip turned on his (transistor?) radio to catch the last out. Giants in the World Series! Now, you'd imagine Chip to be unconscionably old with his erectile dysfunction pills and radio. But it just so turns out he spent the better half of the weekend on his iPad (and there were no mentions of any ED pills. I just made that up).

True love. Possibly the best part of the retreat (in my opinion) occurred on the first night during our introductions. As a get-to-know-you, Chip told us to share our engagement and wedding dates and what attracted us to our respective partners. Nearly every couple understood this to mean that they could talk about whatever they wanted. One particular couple – male, a bit overweight, kind smile and eyes, rough facial hair, Giants cap; female, thin, more physically attractive than her fiancé – my first reaction was actually, “Wow. How did they get together?” But then everything made sense. He concludes their introduction by saying (almost verbatim): “I’m a Giants fan; she likes the Angels. I like the Sharks; she’s a Ducks fan.” For a moment, his face is terribly pained. But he quickly shifts his eyes lovingly and innocently toward his fiancé and adds “But none of that matters.” And a proud grin consumes his face; he is wholly proud of his prose, so touched by his own words, overwhelmed by the thought of being able to care for someone at a level once considered impossible. His girl blushes, she understands that their love overcomes even the gravest of obstacles. Everyone claps, I want to laugh out loud. I think that sequence alone convinced me to write a post mortem on our Engaged Encounter experience .

What else? Well, we have two notebooks full of personal thoughts. I'm sure we'll review its contents prior to the wedding. And then we'll store it in a safe place. We'll read it again in five years...ten years...twenty years...

By the numbers:

• 1: Number of couples who met through online dating service
• 0: Number of couples who admitted to meeting through Facebook
• 3: Number of civilly married couples
• 3: Number of couples with children, or are expecting
• 38: Combined age of the youngest couple (20 and 18)
• 38: Combined age of the couple who's relationship is most likely to end in divorce

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south korea (part 3 of 9)

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

South Korea 2010: A day by day retrospective

I'm in a blogging frenzy, and my resolve to complete my day by day retrospective has never been stronger! Here is a rundown of our third day in Korea. Interestingly, this was the only day of our vacation that I documented during our actual travel.

Day 3; Jeju Island

After another restless night of sleep, Emmelle and I pack our suitcases and say goodbye to our comfortable accommodations at the Lotte Hotel. We take a cab to the Gimpo Airport (I never tired of saying this out loud) for our short one hour flight to Jeju Island (Jeju-doh). We go through what would have to be the easiest and friendliest security gate that I’ve passed through post-9/11. The security agents are like hostesses at a restaurant or party. I can't decide if I prefer such accommodating hospitality before boarding a plane or the constant feeling of imminent danger that American security gates provide.

We purchased our flight through a Korean American travel agency who eventually offered us a cheap two night/three day package to Jeju Island. We took it, assuming that this would most likely be the one time in our lives we would visit the famed island. Leading up to this trip, I heard many comparisons to Hawaii. Jeju is much larger geographically than Oahu (I just looked it up to confirm, about 100 square miles larger), and at no point during our trip did we get the sense we were cavorting on a tropical island. The overcast skies that would linger for the duration of our trip were partially culpable. There are more reasons, however. More on this in subsequent chapters (don’t worry, we’re just getting started).

Just as our itinerary instructed, we approach a man waiting patiently at the arrival gate holding up a sign that reads “Joyful Holiday”. He tells us that the bus is on its way and to relax and await further instructions. We notice that he does not wait for anyone else from our flight and proceeds to make a variety of phone calls. It’s evident that no one in our vicinity is a part of the tour bus. We wonder out loud if we’ve been duped into some sort of human trafficking scam. It’s the type of ribbing that two people engage in to calm their own nerves.

The bus finally arrives. Thank goodness. It’s already full of travelers who had arrived earlier in the day. We discover that they’ve already taken a trip to a nearby beach and more “friends” on later flights would be joining us the next day. We are a collection of Koreans living in the US. Middle aged moms and their high school children account for a bulk of the patrons. We befriend a couple, including one girl who just graduated from my high school and would be attending Emmelle's alma mater (Berkeley) in the fall. Small world.

We eat lunch at a forgettable restaurant. Not bad, but not memorable. After lunch, we are taken to an arboretum; Koreans love walking through flora. There’s nothing else to say about this. Afterward, our bus tour makes an hour-plus long stop at a local Chinese circus. We opt not to pay the additional fee to see the show. There's nothing more to say about this neither. We sit patiently in the lobby area waiting for the show to end. I keep thinking about this group of Chinese immigrants who made their way all the way to this tiny island to eek out a living selling their mediocre product to unknowing tourists. Life perplexes me.

The day is slowly fading away. Behind with the overcast horizon, I can make out the sun cascading to the earth. The heat and repetitive motion of the bus induces sleep. I look out our window and observe a group of kids running soccer drills on a high school pitch. Those kids must be day dreaming of playing in the World Cup one day, I think to myself. At that moment, I have the same epiphany I do every time I venture away from home to a foreign land: God’s world is massive and no matter what, we will miss so much of it. Why? It’s a legitimate question without a satisfactory answer. There is so much beauty, intrigue and mystery in this world. Why must we be limited in experiencing it all, running our hands through every grain of desert sand, gasping for breath through the most intimidating mountain ranges, gliding gently from one topaz blue sea to the next? Life perplexes me.

The day mercifully draws to a close and our guide escorts us to the five star Lotte hotel in Jeju. We play hooky and skip out on the group dinner. Instead, we choose a Korean style sashimi restaurant closest to the nearest pier. I wanted to have at least one of these experiences just to get a small understanding of the inspiration behind my parents’ own restaurant here in the U.S.

We (at least I) am pretty blown away. We order the plentiful catch du jour which unbeknowest to us, comes with a variety of shellfish side dishes. The food never stops appearing at our table. We eat and eat. Towards the end of our meal, we listen to a shouting match between the owner and our waitress. They don’t seem too concerned that we are within earshot of their verbal altercation. We finally decide it’s time to leave, regardless of how awkward the situation might become. When we pay, we ask for a cab back to the hotel. The owner demands that one of her staff drive us home. This is bizarre but we oblige. I wonder to myself if we’ve been duped into some sort of human trafficking scam.

We've already come full circle in Jeju-doh. And we still have another full day ahead of us.

I'm 33% done! Thanks for stopping by.

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three nights in munich

Emmelle and I have been talking quite a bit recently about honeymooning in France next May. We've fantasized about splitting a 10 day trip between Paris and the south of the country, bouncing from one idyllic French location to the next. Amazingly, that excursion was supposed to be the first visit to Europe for either of us. No longer.

This past Monday (exactly one week ago), I received word from my German counterparts at work that it would be ideal for me to spend Friday in the Munich office to have a face-to-face meeting for an upcoming project. There were too many moving parts to cover on multiple hour-long phone calls, and it was decided that an in-person meeting would be the most efficient way to tackle the project's unanswered questions and unresolved processes. So that's how my Monday morning began; a scramble to find a plane ticket, hotel room and reorganization of my week to condense it into three days.

The only way to travel to Munich to be on time for an early Friday morning meeting is to fly out of SFO on Wednesday evening. I flew 11.5 hours to Zurich, Switzerland and another hour to Munich in Bavaria (a region in the southern most part of Germany). Along the way, the world skipped nine hours ahead, and the island displaced me across time and space from the comforts of familiar San Francisco to a Munich hotel room on Thursday evening (sorry too many Lost DVDs recently).

Friday - spend the day at work and realize that another trip may be necessary fairly soon, sparkling water in glass bottles is the only drinking water option, everyone wants to make me an espresso, we eat lunch at a traditional German restaurant that has been in the same location for 500 years, we walk around the downtown area - it is really a beautiful and charming city, we have beers at the end of the day at a nearby bar, one of my German counterparts recently came to this bar three weeks in a row "Prost!", the same dude comes out with me to multiple drinking spots during the night, we eat at the original Hofbrauhaus, I flee my co-workers in a cab.

Saturday - drunkenness and jetlag, I oversleep and miss a promised breakfast with a co-worker, he takes me sightseeing anyway throughout the downtown area, I go back to my hotel room and sleep throughout the day, I am not craving any German food and find some takeout Japanese that I pathetically take back to my hotel room, I elect not to sleep and watch an online stream of the Giants-Phillies game for the epic Lincecum-Halladay match up, I think about how I am holed away in my hotel room as Europe stares invitingly back at me through my window, I don't budge and pack.

Sunday - I'm back in Zurich waiting to fly back to SF. I want to come back to Switzerland; I am drawn to it but am not entirely sure why. At this point, splitting time between France and Switzerland for our honeymoon sounds like a great idea. Emmelle picks me up from the airport, it's time to sleep, and then go back to work...

I'm happy for the experience; I don't think I'll ever complain about having to make last minute international travel arrangements when it's all expensed to someone else's bank account. And Munich is a breathtaking international city with friendly faces and an enriching history. It was a great appetizer for our grand sojourn next summer.

But it never ceases to amaze me how frivolous corporate spending can be. I was in flight for roughly 27 hours to be in the office for eight. I spent another seven or eight hours just hanging out in airports. Just the cost of resource hours alone is quite significant, not to mention all of the last minute travel costs.

Additionally, I found it extremely difficult to coax my inquisitive and curious tourist sensibilities to come out and play during this business trip. Even with a full Saturday to explore on my own, I couldn't rally myself to do a little online research and explore a bit further than where my legs could comfortably and conveniently take me. With all of the interesting faces and architecture that I encountered, I didn't take one inspired photo or make one personal, meaningful observation. Maybe it was the booze, the hurried nature of my trip, the jetlag or the simple fact that Emmelle wasn't there.

I'm pretty sure it was actually everything, including the fact that I'll probably be going back fairly soon. It felt like a safety net; I wasn't worried about missing out because I can try it again next time (and do it better). It's a dangerous way to travel probably - you never know when a visit will be your last. And just writing that almost makes me feel like I've jinxed myself.

No, that can't be. As one great Austrian once said, "I'll be back."

Danke schoen.

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congratulations junior summit

Editor's note: Here is an excerpt from something I had started to write back in late May. I never got around to finishing it, so it remained in draft mode. You can see that I was completely wrong about how the NBA free agency period unfolded. But keep reading; this isn't about sports:

"The 2009-2010 NBA Finals are upon us. With the exception of the Los Angeles Lakers and Boston Celtics, the rest of the league and its players are focused on all of the transactions that will take place over the off-season. Much has been written about the much bally-hooed free agent class of 2010 - which includes the likes of Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh...the list goes on.

In the past several days, there have been a flurry of reports that the most desirable free agents will get together to discuss their future plans. Is it collusion? Hardly, it would be nearly impossible to have two superstars play on the same team; fundamental salary cap restrictions to name just one reason. However, it makes absolute sense that peers (friends) would speak to each other to understand how each will be leveraging his unique talents to eek out the best contract he can possibly attain. Opt-out clause? No trade clause? Isn't it best to talk to your peers about these things?

A similar meeting is happening on a much grander scale as I write this. At this very moment - Monday, May 31, 7pm - Emmelle, Colonel Mustard and Whistle Blower are at dinner together. It should be noted that this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment, "I just watched an episode of Sex in the City and I need some time with the girls" reaction. This "dinner" was planned well in advance. Premeditated. Conversation topics well-planned out.

What could be the reason for such a meeting you ask?"

That's the end of my writing for that day. Just as I was about to roll up my sleeves and articulate my hypothesis, I received a call from Federal Investigation for a dinner of our own. Apparently, he did not get the memo that this was a perfect opportunity to turn on ESPN, take off his pants and eat cold leftovers (not in that particular order). But I can't really poke fun. Being in a committed relationship changes you in all ways - including the ability to hang out by yourself. Like anything else, it becomes difficult when you're out of practice.

If I were to have continued my important writing on that day, I would have written extensively about the Junior Summit's agenda - a laundry list of pre-wedding planning aimed to bounce ideas off each other, and possibly more importantly, eliminate scheduling conflicts and ensure that nobody would be "copying" one's wedding colors and theme. Pretty smart. I applaud their ingenuity and optimism. After all, 67% of the Junior Summit was not engaged at the time.

That was then; this is now. Congratulations Junior Summit; the foundation of your plan has been masterfully laid. Here's to the next year of saving, researching, planning, wishing, praying, dreaming, crying, buying, renting...

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south korea time lapse

Does everyone know that Google's Picasa program now offers a time lapse production feature? It's super easy and makes it accessible to the average (untalented) photog. After spending hours and hours and hours with Lightroom and QuickTime Player Pro, I think the immediate gratification from Picasa is the way to go.

I'm going to keep complaining about this but for some reason, my Nikon D60 started to become finicky during the middle the trip and ceased to turn on altogether by the end of it. There are many moments that we missed that I would love to have documented. Oh well.

Am I still planning to write about everyday of our trip to Korea? I don't know...



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empire state of mind

Apologies for such a trite title, but really, I haven't been able to shake off some of the good vibes of the Big Apple in two recent trips for work. And I've noticed that my intent to write about every day of a trip to Korea 4 months ago is preventing me from writing at all. Or it might be the fact that my Nikon D60 died during that trip, and I have taken no quality images since (This also means that my life has come to a complete halt. After all, if you can't look at pictures and video, it's like it never happened right?)

Thus, I must turn to my mediocre HTC Hero to keep the memory bank open.

It seems that the older I get, each visit to NYC leaves me more and more blown away. It is truly an experience unlike any other big city in the United States. And perhaps most importantly, these business trips have afforded me some fair flexibility in my dining choices. A recent list of epicurean conquests.

Grammercy Tavern

Lupa

Momofuku Noodlebar

Sushi Yasuda

Anyway, here are some lame, low-res shots of Momofuku Noodle Bar.

Thanks for stopping by.

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south korea (part 2 of 9)

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

South Korea 2010: A day by day retrospective

Wow, it's been a month since my last post. I really don't remember anything from our June trip anymore. Let me try to piece together some thoughts and half-truths based on some of the photos I captured during the second day.

Day 2; Park Ji-Sung: Will you marry me?

In your face, Greece! (That will make sense in a couple of minutes)

Jet lag rules the day. She completely consumes me from head to toe and dances all over my face throughout a restless night of sleep. I acquiesce and stumble out of bed. It's 4AM; sunlight has yet to make its way onto the streets below. I can't tell if it's really jet lag that's keeping me up or the excitement of having just started our trip. It really doesn't matter; I'm happy to be awake. At the same time, I'm acutely aware that I won't be able to make it through the long day ahead - my head feels heavy, my finger tips are numb, it almost feels like I can hear my own blinking.

Emmelle eventually awakes and we get an early start to the day. We are excited for different reasons. For Emmelle, it's her friend's wedding ceremony and reception that will take up the bulk of our day. As for me, there are more critical matters that require my attention, Korea's first World Cup 2010 FInals match against Greece will take place later that night. I perfect my tie around my neck and trust that my unreasonably handsome appearance will bring good fortune to the "Taeguk Warriors" (this name needs to change; why can't it be something like the "Soju-guzzling Tigers" or "Emotionally-stunted Tigers". Something with tigers; let's think about this).

We depart on a rain-soaked morning to a Catholic chapel on the other side of the mighty Han River. The captivating photos below perfectly illustrate the subway ride to and from the wedding ceremony.

I call this one "Crappy photo flipped to black and white to seem artistic". I think this grainy composition really captures the urban grittiness of Seoul's clean, organized and advanced subway system. Beautiful.

Here is a fun game (below) that's sweeping the Korean nation - "Where's Emmelle?" See if you can win!

After a rousing match of "Where's Emmelle?", we find ourselves at the chapel. Emmelle is reunited with friends and acquaintances. I don't know anyone at the wedding but I just assume I'll run into somebody because it's a Korean Catholic mass. I don't.

Before the "real" reception that is to be held at the lavish Hyatt hotel (back on the other side of the river), the bride and groom host a lunch reception at the chapel hall for all of the mass attendees. We are startled to see older men wiping their mouths with napkins and leaving the hall just as we are about to walk in. Had they been eating while the actually wedding ceremony took place in the next building over? Well, yes. There's no other explanation (unless they just weren't invited to begin with). Either way, it's high comedy.

The day moves at a quicker pace just as I am really starting to slow down. Jet lag. A steady dose of heavy food, alcohol and sleep deprivation throughout the day exacerbates it. Even the incredibly beautiful view from the banquet room at the Hyatt can't keep my body from running past "E" on the gas gauge. I stay alert enough to snap some photos of Berkeley grads mixing it up at the reception...like REALLY mixing it up - talk of engagements, weddings, honeymoons - it was well-conceived by the bride and groom not to have any children there, listening to that vulgar language.

Either way, huge payoff below. This one was caught while I distinctly heard one of Emmelle's friends ask, "Is your boyfriend really as fantastic as he sounds (and looks)?" I forget how she spoke in parentheses, but again, I was jet lagged. One can't be held to thorough details in such a physical and mental state.

We actually miss the first goal that Korea scores, but who cares. Anytime you can settle into a World Cup match and find that your team is up, you'll take it. And before my body completely shuts down, I see the captain, Park Ji-Sung, slip one by the helpless Grecian goaltender. 2 - 0 Korea wins. The captain scores. Emmelle's friend is married. The country is officially in a frenzy. In your face, Greece!

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south korea 2010 (part 1 of 9)

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

South Korea 2010: A day by day retrospective

I’ve already posted twice about our trip to South Korea, but still haven't really been satisfied with what I've captured in writing thus far. Most of the time, I condense a collection of moments and thoughts into high-level generalizations to support a theme or topic. As it relates to travel, I'd much rather have each memory stand on its own (as much as possible).

It’s been a couple of weeks now since Emmelle and I returned to San Francisco and already, our sojourn fades to the dark recesses of my mind. The sights, sounds and smells of our trip are becoming less distinct and coalescing into one broad thought bubble: “I went to Korea in June 2010.” I'm not satisfied with my certain memory loss and nonsensical grouping of these memories. Well, might as well do a proper recap for posterity’s sake. I’ve decided to create a post for each day of our trip, as combining all nine days into a detailed account has proven to be much too difficult to complete. When I'm finished, I believe I'll have dedicated somewhere between 10,000 - 15,000 words to this trip. I've never written that much about anything.

This is how I’ve decided to remember this trip for the rest of my life:

Day 1; Friday: Is it a departure or an arrival?

This day actually begins a day and a half before; I couldn't write about our trip without mentioning the incredible glee I felt Wednesday evening (last evening before the departure flight). I purposefully neglect packing, house cleaning and laundry duties throughout the week, saving all of these critical activities for the last possible moment. It could take all night but I felt joyful, not because of our destination, but because I wouldn’t be stepping into my office or reading work email for nearly two weeks. It feels very much like a departure from stresses and responsibilities. At this point, Korea is synonymous with a temporary freedom or maybe even a battery. I simply need to recharge. I don't care where we are going, as long as it's away from where I am at the moment.

I throw a load of laundry into the washer, and my landlords’ youngest son, Tim Lincecum Lite, suddenly appears and asks me to come over for dinner. I have much to do but oblige – I don’t know how to ever turn down free food. Plus, I determine that even this night is part of my vacation. I look forward to eating a meal without having to think about my cluttered work inbox. I eat and drink merrily. One bottle of wine leads to another…and another…and eventually, generous pours of scotch are shared at night’s end. Last minute concerns about work ("did I finish that one last thing?!") give way to a drunken cloud that envelops me. I sink into it gently and convince myself that the pleasant alcohol has impaired my packing judgment. I heave myself on my bed, and for a moment consider checking work email on my cell phone. The green light on my phone indicating new email blinks menacingly in the dark. I panic for just a moment and quickly disable work email. I smile and pass out. I have already departed from my everyday life.

It’s Thursday; a day I have been anticipating for months. I feel sluggish and swollen, yet positively light on my feet. I am singing and smiling. Work feels a little farther away than it did just hours ago. I sit in front of the TV to consume my last intake of American programming. I sit through ESPN experts' prognostication of tonight's Lakers-Celtics Game 4 Finals match up. I hope that Korean Air offers live satellite TV with American channels. I am doing a lot of thinking about the flight and not actually packing. Time ticks away until I've left myself no time to consider my packing choices. In a frenzied state, I rummage through drawers and closets, tossing every clean article of clothing into my suitcase. And as always, I have packed too much. Perhaps my subconscious acted on my behalf, directing me to pack for a month away from home...I have that many articles of clothing in my suitcase.

I am off to the airport. My excitement is slowly starting to shift from being solely content with not being at work to being more present and aware of our pending trip. It turns out that my cab driver is a Korean immigrant (I’ve never had a Korean cab driver in San Francisco). We discuss the World Cup and Korea’s absolute need to beat Greece in the first match. I make a mental note that he is the first of many Korean cab drivers I would encounter on this trip. Emmelle’s parents escort her to the airport from San Jose, and she arrives a few minutes after me. We meet near the Korean Airlines check-in counter and have few words to express our eagerness to get on the plane. This is the best part. It's the farthest time period from when our trip will be over in nine short days. Shoot, I wish I hadn't thought of that. I start to panic. I feel like our vacation is already over...It's tough to be me sometimes.

We immediately make our way to the duty free shop after zipping through check-in and security (always a pleasant surprise) and load up on bottles of scotch for our respective families. Many people seem to love duty free shopping; to me there is something terribly off-putting about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. I need more experience with it to conclude a more informed opinion. Nevertheless, duty free saves us from the embarrassment of showing up empty-handed to homes and dinners.

Time passes quickly; boarding commences almost as soon as we reach our gate. Much like the rest of the morning, the gate procedure is smooth, and we find ourselves in our seats fairly quickly. I immediately acclimate myself with my personal entertainment console, scrolling through a lengthy list of mediocre films to keep me distracted during the flight. As expected, no satellite to watch the game. It's ok, we are having fun.

What’s even more enjoyable than the entertainment console is the first in-flight meal, a selection of either the eastern course (bibimbap) or the western course (egg noodles and beef cubes). We elect to have one of each for variety’s sake. I am intrigued by the bibimbap entrée, particularly the Korean condiments packaged tightly into individualized portions. For instance, the Korean chili paste that arrives in basically a small tub of toothpaste. I could use this in my daily life! This is all very novel to me, and I enjoy it immensely more than the jaded travelers around me. I even convince myself to appreciate the odd, synthetic flavors of the individually packaged condiments. All put together though, it makes for a harmless meal. I'll take it over honey roasted peanuts every time.

There must be at least a dozen (or so it seems) flight attendants serving our portion of the cabin. They are all similar in appearance - taller than the average Korean female, slender, long hair tied neatly into a bun, similar pleasant expressions on their faces. Their collective appearance does not diverge too much from Korean actresses. It seems as though all of these women strive to achieve a universal appearance. I would assume most people would find this attractive, but this is nothing to be proud of. Diversity isn't really embedded in the culture. I haven't been to Korea in over 20 years, so I am half expecting all women we encounter to look similarly. We'll see; I am hoping this assumption is incorrect.

The flight is pretty smooth and uneventful. I'm able to dose off for about two hours (Emmelle probably slept less than that), and that will need to suffice for an abrupt transition from Thursday morning to Friday evening.

We've arrived in Korea. Land of...well, me. Land of me. My birth country, the origin of my name. We've exchanged our American dollars into won, had our passports stamped, rented a temporary cell phone and purchased shuttle bus tickets that will take us directly to our hotel (Lotte City Hotel in Mapo). We are ready to party! I am very conscious of my first steps out of the airport.

One step forward, second step forward. We're outside of the airport and firmly on Korean land (Well, I guess we were inside the airport too, but just go with it). The sky is grey and overcast. The air is warm, thick and dense. I can't tell if I'm sweating or it's just the humidity enveloping every inch of our skin. I'm surprised at how many non-Koreans we are surrounded by - Caucasians both American and European as well as many other Asians from across this continent. Seoul is a major international city that I have under-appreciated (or just never thought about). Immediately, I notice that there are many more smokers here than in San Francisco. This will be irritating for me for the duration of our trip, particularly in this dank still air. The cigarette stench lingers and lingers, until you concede and inhale it into your own lungs. I won't miss this.

The bus ride to our hotel is comfortable. The check-in process is less pleasant. They have my name in their system with the correct dates for our stay (two nights) but all of my other information is incorrect. The front desk employee politely tries to convince me that I'm a 45 year old from Los Angeles, with a passport number that isn't my own. I try to explain, futilely, that those records belong to someone else. She is not convinced, she tells me that they have the right reservation and they simply require updating of the user profile. I don't know how to be sarcastic in Korean, so I go with it. Yes, let's change my age from 45 to 29, my city address from Los Angeles to San Francisco - obviously the cause of human key stroke error.

We go up to our hotel room; I silently pray that a surly middle-aged man who shares my name doesn't bang on our door during the middle of the night.

One more thing to do before heading out to find something to eat: Call relatives. I am dreading this but do it to avoid shame on my parents. I intend to call my dad's younger brother first, and when he picks up, it doesn't really sound like him. I tell myself that it's been a few years and I blabber on and on about how I'd like to see him if there was time and that I'd do my best to see his daughter living in Seoul. He is confused. So of course, I become confused. Confusion renders my Korean completely ineffective. Inaudible gargling sounds have replaced words and sentences. I sound drunk. I can't even understand what I'm saying. I wish I was drunk. After some awkward pauses, he tells me that I should coordinate with my aunt (his sister) so we can have dinner on Wednesday like we had originally discussed with my mom beforehand. I am speaking with my mom's brother! I am a moron. He must think I am (1) an idiot, or (2) crazy. Chances are it's both. This is not the auspicious first impression I had envisioned during my phone call rehearsals. I wipe the sweat from my brow; I can't wait to do this in person come Wednesday.

Time to eat.

We walk around the streets for a bit but cannot find a satisfactory eatery for our inaugural meal. Fortunately, Emmelle’s aunt calls her and recommends a nearby part of the city that would surely have some interesting food options and night-time sight seeing. We take a taxi near City Hall and walk around. We find an empty restaurant that specializes in live octopus and have a heavenly meal of sahn nak ji bokum - fresh octopus sauteed with vegetables and Korean spices. I'm not sure a heavy hand of sodium and garlic, accompanied by an ice cold Cass is ideal just hours before a wedding, but I can't help myself. Emmelle is barely eating so I end up scarfing down the bulk of the dish. One thing we learn - this dish is consumed with steamed bean sprouts rather than rice to cut the heavy salt intake. I think this is brilliant and make a mental note to try this when we get back home.

There are fewer street dwellers now, and disappointingly, we are not in an area geared for night time activity. Restaurants and bars are either closed or waiting for the last patrons to leave. But there is something more exciting taking place than your typical summer night. We walk the streets for a few minutes to settle our satiated stomachs and stumble onto what will be a hot bed of Korean pride the following evening. Preparations are nearly complete for public outdoor viewing of Korea's first World Cup match on these grounds here at City Hall. Roadies are conducting final sound checks for the pre-game festivities. Kids are already sitting on the lawn to secure an ideal vantage point for the large screens that will broadcast the match. This calm part of the city will be a frenzied spectacle of red in just a few hours.

It's a quiet night, but already, one can feel the swell of emotional outpour brewing within the city. It's palpable, unnerving in the best way - or maybe it's the jet lag and constipation. We need to get some sleep.

We take another taxi back to the hotel. Emmelle is very adept at communicating our destination points to our temporary chauffeurs. We are back in the hotel room. I catch a delayed telecast of Boston's Game 4 victory and wonder if I'll be able to catch any of these games live. I flip through all of the channels, there is an ESPN-affiliated sports station in Korea, but it's focused on Korean sports. I am surprised (and annoyed) there is no channel dedicated to American sports (It's the NBA Finals!!) My inherent American-centric view startles and embarrasses me. I passively watch South Africa's first World Cup match until my eyes become tired...heavy...sealed...

One overwhelming thought from this short first day: I don’t feel like a stranger. Surely I have more difficulty than natives communicating simple thoughts and questions, but I don’t feel foreign. There are plenty of obvious reasons: familiar language, appearance, food. When I combine all of these elements into one, it's a fresh place to explore. But it's almost an internal discovery as much as an external exploration. I'm piecing together and deconstructing, all at once, fundamental influences of my upbringing. Thus, it's new but not unfamiliar.

Day one is complete, and I lie in bed contemplating the present. I am hours, and in some instances, minutes away from relatives. I am an ocean apart from all responsibility; I'm spending less time computing the time back in California. Similar to the physical adjustment our bodies are making to the time difference, my mind and soul are settling into this new place. We've arrived.

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