Happy Random Date Change day . . .

I'm annoyed by a few things today, while wanting to laugh them off as unimportant (and they are)

BUT, they need to be called out:

Korea Exchange Bank - which advertises itself as the best option for Expat banking in South Korea.

Backstory: Korea does not trust foreigners, therefore a "credit card" is in reality a debit card, where you get credit on the amount you have on term deposit. That's not an issue for me as I don't like to spend money I don't have anyway.

BUT: I'm about to purchase an expensive air ticket, so needed to extend my credit limit. Simple thing, I'd been told, just put more in the term deposit.

Korea - I wish you were that simple . . .

Went to the bank, where the clerk had no idea what I was talking about, but asked me to stand aside while she called people. While I stood aside, she dealt with one other foreign customer.

She made the calls, invited me back, explained things I already knew, then told me I had no money in my account to transfer. I had just checked my balance and she was wrong. I handed her my savings/debit card to check, and it didn't match the credit card she was looking at.

She had given my credit card to the previous customer, and kept hers,

They phoned the woman, who was very annoyed ("Every time I come here, you get something wrong . . . ") then came back to me.

Yes, I'm being tolerant of your ineptitude, and trying to stay nice . . .

The bank clerk then demanded my ARC (Alien Registration Card - we have to register). I gave her the immigration paperwork that said they have it until Jan. 11 and which immigration  told me is legally the same, and she would not allow me to transfer my own money from one account to another.

At that stage, I could have asked for a manager and growled but I think it's probably a better idea to stop dealing with Korean banks.

Have yourself a simple little Christmas . . .

Some of the most difficult gifts to find in the hi-tech, high-paced, high-pressure world in which we now live cost the least.

Simplicity. Peace. Acceptance. Contentment. Gratefulness. Generosity. Selflessness. Charity. Openheartedness.

It's not that most of us don't have all these qualities within us, it's just that we often lose touch with them as we strive for goals that are far less rewarding. It's all too easy to get caught up in what the world expects of us and fail to recognize what makes us truly happy.

Loving relationships, with friends, family and significant others. Good health. Self-love. The satisfaction of a job well done. The warmth that comes from helping others.

The stressors of everyday life build at Christmas and times of other celebrations for many, particularly in a time when the economy is bad and parents, especially, feel pressure to purchase the latest gadgets their children absolutely MUST have to keep up with their peers. (Consider the joy of a child more excited by the wrapping or box a gift comes in than the expensive toy it contained and it is obvious that excessive greed is taught, by parents, peers and society, rather than innate.)

I've personally experienced the despair of a parent who felt unworthy at not being able to provide more at Christmas and witnessed the pain it caused to not live up to the expectations, not of her children, but of "societal norms."

Unlike the founder of the Occupy movement, I'm not advocating a boycott of gift-giving. For myself, however, I find more meaning in a meal cooked with love, a hand-made note or the gift of time with loved ones than the most expensive trinket or latest piece of gadgetry.

This Christmas, I was blessed. The only gifts I unwrapped were cakes baked by a wonderful friend, which I then had the joy of sharing with others. I was given the gift of a place to stay in the countryside, surrounded by beauty, and the space and time to rediscover the qualities within myself that I'd lost touch with in my last job and busy city life and constant rushing from place to place. I spoke with family, friends and loved ones, both digitally and by phone, and shared in the joy of others around the world.

And relearned, physically, what I've always believed but sometimes lose the meaning of in the bustle of being - that life is an adventure, not an ordeal. A gift, not an obstacle.

This morning, I woke to a clear crisp day but no hot water, so walked through the woods to my friend's house to shower, with the sun rising behind me and speckling my path. In doing so, I startled three deer into flight, and marveled at their beauty and vitality.

It was a morning gift I would never have received if not for an inconvenience that I could have let upset me but that in the grand scheme of things was insignificant.

I will try to stay connected to that simplicity when I go back to the world of work . . .

the cover photo . . .

I have been offline for a few weeks, traveling, visiting with friends, reading a lot.

Thinking, remembering, still trying to stay in touch.

Remembering . . .

My cover photo, pretending to be a food vendor, was taken at the JW Marriott restaurant where, in July 2009, suicide bombers targeted a Western breakfast meeting. The Ritz-Carlton, just across the road, was also bombed. Where I was working, blocks away, we heard and felt the aftershock and initially thought it was an earthquake.

It was, but of a different breed . . . .

When they reopened the hotel and restaurant, I wanted to show support, and did, . . .  

Here's the review

The perils of a peripatetic lifestyle . . .

When one door closes, many more open.

That does not necessarily mean you want to step through them all.

As I consider my next adventure in life and, more importantly, how best to fund it with an income means that both interests and challenges me, I've been offered an editing gig in a field that fascinates me. The problem is, because of the level of the employer, the application form requires much the same level of information as needed for a security clearance, including every address and place of travel for the past 10 years, plus detailed information about my family members.

It's times like this I realize that my life is a little outside of the "norm" -- whatever that is.

Apart from the extra pages I would need for my addresses alone (my mother used to joke she had a separate phone book just for me), the prospective employer wants explanations for any time between jobs. That's a book in the making.

"I had nothing more pressing so spent five months doing farm, orchard and vineyard work in New Zealand, then flew to the U.S., borrowed a motorbike and spent three months riding 6,000 miles and talking with folks."

OR, "I finished a contract in January and wanted to go to a bike rally in North Carolina in May, so volunteered in Thailand for three months while waiting."

It's just as well they're only asking for the past 10 years. That puts a statute of limitations on the '93 gig where I crewed my passage across the Indian Ocean, starting in Thailand, switching yachts in Sri Lanka and stopping off in the Maldives and the Seychelles before making landfall in Kenya. Where I traveled for two months before heading back to the "developed" world.

Then there are the countries I've visited - 20 at last count, I think. Including at least six trips to the United States in that time period. And, no, I really don't recall the exact dates or ports of entry and departure for each trip I've made in the past decade, particularly as I've transited through a hub every time on my way to my destination.

I'm not sure whether the resulting application would have me rejected out of hand as a potential spy or have someone trying to recruit me as one.

Priorities

Like many people, one of the first things I do each day is check my smartphone and computer. Personal messages are first, because they are the people I know well and care for. E-mail is next, and I do a quick triage on what needs to be addressed instantly or can be put aside for later. I then turn to Facebook, otherwise known as my virtual school playground.

The thread that interested me most yesterday was on privacy and our rights to it, and my take was that if you intentionally posted on a public domain, you had no such right. A subsequent post is simmering on that. I then slept, while friends on the other side of the world were awake and active, and woke to a contretemps I still don't quite understand (I hate it when people write AND delete things while I'm sleeping) but has friends defriending friends over snark and, potentially, more serious matters. As I said, the virtual school playground.

That over, I return to my e-mail. Where I am struck by what I have decided can wait, while recognizing why I made the decision.

While writing last year, I interviewed members of the Patriot Guard and subscribed to their e-mail feed. Most mornings since then I have woken to notices of Patriot Guard missions. Mostly, these are to stand guard at funeral services. Sometimes for veterans who have died surrounded by family, more often for military members who will only come home in a box.

I put these e-mails aside because I want my mind free and clear to fully appreciate and acknowledge these people who, I will be the first to say, I do not know. When it is a veteran who lived to a ripe old age, I smile and hope he/she learned to value life. When it is a 21-year-old killed in a war none of us really understands, I read of those left behind and ask they have comfort. When, occasionally, it is a happy occasion, I cheer.

Today wasn't bad:

The funeral service for a 1SG (Ret) in Texas
He was described as a soldier, aviator, sportsman, FAA inspector, mentor and teacher. He is survived by his wife, children, parents, grandchildren and many friends.

He will be missed but I believe he lived well.

Snowball Express

This organization sends children of fallen military members on a 5-day vacation. The Patriot Guard carries their bags at the airport (a few other things, but makes them welcome and tries to ease their loss).

Another funeral service, for a US Army Vet, aged 76

Few details here, North Carolina, but I hope he lived well.

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I put these aside because I want to focus and acknowledge the lives lost, and get distracted by the schoolyard drama first.

Perhaps I have my priorities reversed.

It's a 'Good morning, beautiful," Day . . .

I love those days when you wake to remember that life is full of unlimited possibilities and whether they are positive or negative is more to do with how you handle the situations the universe puts before you than what that situation is. I know, that sounds very Pollyanna-ish, but I'm at least a practical and pragmatic Pollyanna.

It's hard not to feel upbeat when you wake to a bright new day, with a roof over your head, reasonable health (any day above ground is a good day), food in your pantry, true friends in your heart and phone directory, money in your wallet and bank account (not much, but more than most of the general populace in many countries), witty and sometimes wise friends and pundits on social media, saleable skills and a world full of adventure.

Add to that a cool, crisp autumn morning fresh from the previous day and night of rain; vistas of rippling russet, golds, yellows and reds as the season changes spectacularly; streets full of damp multi-colored leaves; and the small surprises that Seoul offers every day if one keeps one's eyes open.

Wending my way through the myriad of shortcuts and mazes I take when negotiating this metropolis on foot, I found myself making my way down a damp, uneven stone stairway behind a aging blind man who tapped his descent with his cane. For a few years now, I have been reading the blog of an amazing woman and writer who happens to be blind (her nephew is an equally talented photographer I was privileged to work alongside), and have learned from her many of  the challenges of getting around without sight, especially in a big city. I imagine those difficulties are exponentially multiplied in a city that still retains many undeveloped neighborhoods, in which residents with disabilities are more likely to live, and few real facilities to aid them.

Yet, here was my fellow walker, nimbly picking his way down a far-from-regular steep path with the agility of someone much younger and sighted. I'm always humbled that many of those in the world that have the least possessions or the most difficult hurdles to overcome are often the last to complain or to expect others to carry their loads for them.

It's a lesson that is timely to be reminded of as I once again leap into an unknown future, trusting that as doors close (one door just isn't enough for me), other doors will open. They may not be the doors I first headed for or knocked at, but the doors that open will be the ones where I am welcome.

As I prepare for my next adventure and new challenges, I do so with thanks every day for all that I have and the goal to live my life in line with my favorite quote, one that has special meaning for me as an ardent ocean sailor:

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than the things you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Mark Twain (1835 - 1910) 

Ready to Fly the Nest . . .

It has been even more surreal than usual in my Korean workplace this past month after I abruptly resigned (for a multitude of reasons but most of my building unhappiness with the job was related to my Western co-workers, not my Korean colleagues). It is a very civilized and friendly parting and I plan to go back to writing for the agency once I'm no longer a full-time employee here, and they'll go back to paying me for what I write.

The initial reaction to my resignation was one of disbelief, as Koreans tend not to resign from good jobs over matters of principle or inequality of workload, and was instead treated as a negotiating ploy by my bosses. It took me some time to convince them I was serious and not merely angling for more pay. Once they accepted that, my bosses and colleagues seemed stunned I wasn't leaving to go somewhere else, but because I am unhappy being here and unhappiness affects my work and life in general. I offered to stay as long as it takes the company to replace myself and another position that is open at the same time, and that has lead to a strange situation where I am being consulted on my prospective replacement. Having worked in the country and the journalism field for so long, it's a wise decision for them to have made as most of us in the expat media either know each other or at least of each other.

Happily for him, one of the successful applicants is someone who was my assistant on another publication some years back and I feel sure he will treat the agency well and they will do the same for him.

Yesterday, I and the few other crew on the Saturday duty went for lunch with the office "head honcho," as my immediate boss calls her, and the conversation strangely revolved around how many of the staff had said how much they enjoyed working with me and would miss me (not blowing my own trumpet, just a surreal conversation to have when you've resigned mainly because concerns you have consistently raised have been just as consistently ignored).

That is par for the course in the Korean workplace, however, and I usually adapt to it with equanimity. Other uncertainties of late have definitely made me more conscious of my unhappiness here and I have faith a new challenge will soon present itself. I may not make as much money as I do here but, provided I am working as part of a team I respect for their abilities and their effort, I'll be happy with that.

Until then, there are a few things I have been meaning to write . . .