Aesthetically, the temple is beautiful. Check out the detail on one of the dragons that adorn the roof:

But the most interesting thing about the temple was the people that came to worship. My knowledge on the theology/cosmology of Longshan and other Taiwanese temples is a bit thin–according to Wikipedia, “the Temple worships a mixture of Buddhist, Taoist, and folk deities such as Matsu”–but whoever these folks were praying to, they were taking it pretty seriously:

Here’s some video of the action. Be sure to have your sound on; the effect of the droning, unison chanting of thousands of worshippers is truly other-worldly:

Imagine, if you will, a densely packed outdoor market where you can buy clothes, electronics, accessories…and the craziest fried Chinese food in the world. Like corn dogs stuffed with french fries:

Welcome to a Taipei night market. My pictures won’t be able to capture the energy, the tastes…or the smells…of these vibrant scenes, so do yourself a favor and go to Taipei to see them for yourself.

I had never been in the presence of so many…novel…food products in my life. These are Chinese burritos, for lack of a better description:

These are flaky buns stuffed with peppered beef and scallions:

These guys? Chicken butts:

Fried bread, wrapped in a thin flatbread. I call it Chinese meta-bread:

And as if there weren’t enough open flames among the food vendors, the merchandise vendors were happy to add their own:

And as if you didn’t need any more reminders that this is a place very different from the United States, I leave you with this image of some very young night market workers. I suppose child labor isn’t as taboo and/or regulated in Taipei as it is in the West:

I don’t mean to end on a down note. The night markets are fantastic. They’re just very different from our more orderly, less chaotic lives in the West. And that’s far from a bad thing. As long as these kids still have time for their homework.

First, here’s a typical Taipei streetscape:

Yup, lots of drab, utilitarian concrete buildings. This is what happens to architecture when buildings need to go up cheaply and quickly in a rapidly modernizing and growing city. No time for the picturesque brownstones we’re spoiled by in New York City.

Next, here’s a typical Taipei roadway:

No, it’s not some sort of scooter race, it’s just the the way a large portion of commuters chose to move about the city.

The drab building and scooters that are so prevalent in Taipei give the city a bit of a third world quality, so you’d be forgiven for forgetting that Taipei has a booming electronics and manufacturing industry and is home to one of the tallest building in the world, Taipei 101:

This beautiful structure anchors a chic commercial district that would be at home in any major world city.

Lastly, lest you think that the Asian aesthetic is absent in the modern Taipei landscape, let me end this first post with a picture of the National Palace Museum, a great example of traditional Chinese architecture brought into the 20th century:

This museum is a fascinating blend of the old and new: it was built fairly recently (in the mid-1960′s) to house artifacts from 2,000 years of Chinese history that were spirited out of the country by the Nationalists in advance of the Communist takeover of Beijing in 1948. The history is long, complex, and fascinating, so rather than try to summarize it here, I’ll do you a favor and point you to the Wikipedia article on the museum.

Coming up in future installments: Taipei’s famous night markets, Longshan temple pray-a-thon, and the ghosts of Sun Yat-Sen and Chiang Kai-Shek…

First stop was San Francisco, a city I visited for the first time last summer and am now quite taken with. In one long day of walking, I managed to go from The Mission…

To The Castro…

…all the way to the top of Twin Peaks!

Anyone who’s been to Twin Peaks will tell you that walking all the way up would be difficult at best, foolish at worst. Oh, well. Once I’d realized what I’d gotten myself into, I was way too far up the hill to turn back.

After making it back down, I did the sensible thing and took a bus ride to my next stops, the Presidio with its breathtaking views of the Golden Gate Bridge…

 …and the nearby Palace of Fine Arts, a breathtaking remnant of the  1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition:

The other major sightseeing day in the Bay Area was spent at Muir Woods, home of majestic redwood trees and refuge of renegade chimpanzees in the recent Rise of the Planet of the Apes movie:

I found it difficult to effectively communicate the scale of these trees in pictures, but hopefully the combination of these two gives you a sense of both their height and width:

Note the sweaters. The locals were complaining of the chilly weather, but I welcomed the break from the brutal humidity and heat of the New York summer!

After San Francisco, we hopped over to Golden, CO, home of my sister, my brother-in-law, and my too-cute-for-words 20 month old niece. Here she is with her mom and uncle in the Denver Botanic Garden:

The Gardens were also home to huge lily pads, which probably could have supported a small child’s weight.

Note: we did not get the chance to put this theory to test.

Of course, no visit to Golden is complete without a trip to Red Rocks, the aptly named concert venue and park. I’ve been several times, but this is the first time I was able to use an iPhone HDR app to try to capture the intense range of colors in this view:

 The last stop on the trip was a gathering of college friends by a lake in Northern Connecticut, Don’t let this tranquil scene fool you; for us, this lake is mostly associated with white-knuckle, high-speed motorboat tubing action.

OK, fine. Also barbecues, charades, and reading of magazines and novels in the sun.

All told, it was a great summer vacation. I saw the sights, visited with friends and family, played in the water, and most importantly, just relaxed. It’s all in the past now, but fortunately, Memorial Day 2012 is only nine short months away.

…and this is me in almost the same spot, in 2008…

…and here I am again, on my last trip in 2011:

Over the course of seven years, this part of the palace hasn’t changed. For the most part, my physical appearance hasn’t changed. Yet so much has changed with me and my relationship with Korea during that time.

During these seven years, my mother died, both of my siblings got married, and my father remarried. I worked at four different jobs and was about to start a fifth during the last trip. I lived at five different addresses in Korea, Alabama, and New York.

My life has changed in dramatic and sweeping ways, and yet the palace and I still look the same.

At the time of the first picture (2004), I struggled mightily with both the Korean language and my identity as a Korean. I had met dozens of relatives for the first time and could not reconcile the closeness of blood relations with the profound sense of alienation I felt from them due to language and culture gaps. At the time of my second picture (2008), I struggled less with the language and basic conversation with relatives, but still couldn’t fit myself into the larger context of The Korean People as I had just come off a rough year and a half working in a Korean-American community organization where I just did not fit in.

By the time of the last picture (2011), I had mostly come to terms with the fact that I would never feel like I truly belonged in any context that could be called “Korean,” be it in Korea or in the United States. Korea, Korean culture, and my relatives in Korea are only parts of my identity; however, they do not define my identity.

My sense of identity and comfort with it have grown tremendously, and yet the palace and I still look the same.

I find it oddly fitting that, in spite of all this change, and in spite of my feelings of Korea as a foreign land, this place, Gyeongbokgung Palace, acts as something of an anchor. It may be weird, and I may not be totally comfortable with it, but it’s not likely to go anywhere anytime soon. It’s been around for hundreds of years, was there on my last three trips, and will be there for my next three trips.

More to the point, though, it’s a reminder of the permanence of some things that persist in spite of incredible amounts of change in our lives. Fundamentally, I’m the same person I was in 2004 that I was in 2008 that I am in 2011. That person was shaped by forces hundreds if not thousands of years in the making. No amount of job changes or Korean language classes can change that.

The next time I return to Seoul, I hope to return to this spot and take another picture similar to these three. I hope I can use that as another occasion to take stock of my life: what’s changed and what hasn’t changed. I can only hope that I can say the same thing then that I can now: that with each additional picture, I found myself in a better place in my life than in the previous picture.

And this is also Japan, in late April:

This may be hitting the point a little over the head, but it’s worth making: the earthquake, tsunami, and accompanying nuclear crisis are all really big deals and do of course amount to a national crisis. But Japan is a big country, and hundreds of miles from the disaster zone, in places like Fukuoka, day-to-day life was and remains largely unaffected.

This is really hard for a lot of people to understand. While this is more understandable for Americans or others without a good working knowledge of the East Asia region, it’s less understandable for Koreans. Friends and family expressed both general concern about the ongoing situation in Japan and specific concern for my safety. One friend living in Seoul was told not to go out in the rain out of fear of radiation. Many relatives thought it was a bad idea for me to go to Japan, in spite of my insisting that it was perfectly safe, and in spite of any expression of concern from my dad, who is a nuclear engineer and probably knows a thing or two about the dangers of radiation.

Part of me wants to write this off as a “Korean thing.” Rumor and misinformation seems to hold special sway in that country (see also the “fan death” urban legend). But this sort of misreading, irrational fear. and distrust of Japanese official reports are hardly limited to the residents of South Korea. People worldwide have reacted similarly. Nevertheless, any rational investigation of the facts should lead anyone to the logical conclusion that there are large swaths of Japan that are perfectly safe to visit, and it is still disappointing that so many people are casting blanket assumptions on Japan because of the nuclear crisis. This hurts tourism, which hurts the Japanese economy.

So, in an effort to do my part to help with the Japanese recovery, I’d like to combat this misinformation with what little influence I wield on the internet.

Let me repeat, there are large swaths of Japan that are perfectly safe to visit. Do your research if you were planning on visiting but were having second thoughts. The Japanese economy needs all the help it can get through tourism, which has been hit badly in recent months.

It’s a nice place. You should check it out.

This may be the most naturally colorful place in the world, assuming they don’t put some sort of chemical in the water to make the flowers look like this, which seems totally possible to me:

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. Simply striking:

Lots to process from this brief trip–both in terms of pictures and thoughts–so I’ll start with the good stuff: awesome Japanese food.

This is one of a series of outdoor street food stands that set up at night. This one in particular served up tasty grilled meat on a stick–way better than the mystery meat on a stick you get in New York City.

I ate perhaps the best ramen in my life in the appropriately named Raumen Stadium. They serve an impressive variety of ramens from across Japan, including the local specialty, Hakata raman.

I can’t remember if this one in particular was Hakata style, but I do remember it had thick, rich broth; thin, al dente noodles; juicy, tender pork; and a special boiled egg with a soft yolk on the inside. Just perfect.

I ordered a small plate of gyoza dumplings as a snack from a mall food court. Notice how impeccably arranged and presented it is: even a humble dish with cheap chopsticks and napkin is still prepared with the utmost care.

This coffee-in-a-can is notable for two reasons: 1) it’s served hot, straight from a vending machine, and 2) it lets you drink coffee LIKE A BOSS.

Yet another meat on a stick grill. Watch the chef in action:

Lastly, sushi on a conveyor belt:

I love the instant gratification that the conveyor belt offers. If you see it, and you want it, you can eat it, no waiting required. You can also request other items off the menu that aren’t already offered on the belt. And of course the variety is unbeatable.

Aaaand I’m hungry again. Good thing I have enough time to get another bowl of ramen before heading back to Korea for the final day of the trip!

It was a joyous, raucous occasion, one that made me long for a big, close-knit family structure back in the states, where I live a life largely independent of any family in New York. That of course isn’t possible, so the best that I can do is make the most out of rare opportunities like these. It’s good motivation to keep my Korean language skills in shape and even improve them. Hopefully I’ll start to make it a habit of coming out every few years to see them and build on these relationships. And hopefully they–or more likely, their kids–will make some visits to the US.

One of my relatives put it best: “blood is thicker than water.” In this case, even thicker than the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean.