PACKING: MARA STYLE

Stare pensively into the closet.
Pull out my favorite pair of socks.
Consider the destination at hand.
Take an item off the hanger and fold it onto the bed.
Continue steps 1-4 for 15 minutes.
Look at the massive pile.
Feel regret.
Think, "Man, everything I own is black."
Throw a turquoise scarf atop the clutter. That looks nice.
Add some sweatpants to the pile.
Panic.
Walk downstairs and eat some goat cheese.
Come back and pull one pair of jeans from the equation.
Panic.
Square off a two foot by two foot area on the bed for sitting.
Write a blog.
Leave the house. Packing is nonsense.
Return and throw everything in sight into the bag.
Wear six items for the entire trip.

I always get it in my brain that I'm going to dress differently when I'm on a trip; that I'm going to arrive in a new location and want to invent myself into the kind of individual who likes to wear pretty dresses and hats.

It's official.

THINGS I AM PERPETUALLY BAD AT:
PACKING IN WINTER.

EAST

All-American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop 2 through ???: NORTH CAROLINA and UP.

I've never seen the east coast north of Washington DC (except the five days I spent in New York on my way home from Korea.)

I'm going on a road trip and in the meantime, I get to see a lot of people I'm fond of.

Life update: Everything's unpacked. All of my belongings are in my room. Yesterday was rough.  Lots and lots of pictures, hauled up notebooks and trinkets.

Hot damn do I cherish trinkets.

350 DAYS

That's not a rough estimate; that's an exact number.

I waited 350 days for Utah. I had a plan 350 days prior and I stuck to it. That alone needs documented.

Do you know how pretty Moab is? Man, it's pretty. The colors are barely justified in photos.

The reds. The grayish-blueish-greenish sparkling blanket of bush found in the canyons. The occasional Grannysmith-green tree standing strong amongst the bunch. The mountains tipped with snow.

Moab was lovely. Sleep came easy and the adventures never really stopped.

On the second night I nestled my cold face too far down into my mummy bag and for a brief moment, was confused about where I was. Once I found the air and became fully coherent, I remembered I was sleeping outside. I listened for the tranquil sound of crickets and... nothing.

I haven't been out west in years and whoa - the stillness of the night. I'd travel back just for that.

 

WEST

My backpack is full. All American Whirlwind Winter Tour stop one: UTAH.

I keep snuggling in to my sleeping bag on the living room floor. I'm ready to sleep in the desert.

PHOTO BY // BRITTANY TAYLOR

SPACE // SLEEP

Everywhere I sleep I'm constantly thinking about building personal space. In hostels I'm concerned with where my pack is in relation to my head, how far the ceiling is from my body, how much light is entering my bunk. In tents I'm concerned about safety from the elements, how far my shoes are from the door and where my headlamp is located. In space that affords higher capacity for objects, I need jars to hold my trinkets. I need the lighting to disperse correctly in the room. I need a healthy amount of clutter.

If space isn't right I don't feel aligned. Quality sleep doesn't exist. I don't produce well.

I'm unpacking, chucking t-shirts and spatulas over my head into piles for missions and second hand shops. I don't need these things. I don't know what I need anymore, but it's definitely not toasters.

I was interested in the psychological stand point of coming home, but two days in I feel like there's nothing to evaluate.

Just as I did on the other side of the planet, I'm molding. I'm finding structure in space, which is now my childhood room.

Basically I'm living in a time capsule. Memorabilia from my childhood is strewn all over the walls. I'm adding to the collections, integrating my current life into the physical evidence of where I've been. My necklaces hang on the shadow box that showcases my soccer medals.

I'll sleep here until Thursday, and then I'll head to the dessert and sleep there. And yes, my headlamp will be nestled under my pillow.

REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD

It's been a week. I'd say my return to America has been anticlimactic for the shear fact that it's lacked in chaos and strife.

I'm in my hometown. At the first sight of downtown I pounded my fist on the steering wheel, near tears. The comfort in familiarity. The outline of the city is the same, but I quickly noticed the new apartment buildings, bike lanes and restaurants. This is my city. My family  lives here. My friends live here. I am home.

Everything's going as planned because there's no plan at all.

Right now there's a lot of questions: Where have you been? Where are you going?

I already miss Korea something awful, but the past and the future are equivalent.

I'm focused on this single truth:

YOU CAN'T LOSE WHAT YOU DON'T CLING TO. (BUDDHA)

HOME CAT (POGUE) ON MY HOME BED CIRCA 2010

HOME CITY

HOME RAMBLINGS

Persistent thought in Shanghai:

Have Western men always been this handsome? An Air France flight preceded mine at the gate. Long torsos. Broad shoulders. Five o'clock shadows. Chiseled faces. My eyes don't know where to focus.

Persistent thought in NYC:

My taste buds are going to explode due to sheer delight and boundless taste. Fennel. Sauerkraut. Sunchoke. Truffle. Pumpkin. Pork chop. Dill pesto. Kombucha. Goat cheese. Halibut. Toasted sage. Souffle. Maccroons.

Side thoughts:

New York City is an intense place to experience reverse culture shock.
America has big dogs.

1 DAY - MOUNTAINS, MAKGEOLI AND MERRIMENT

I suppose these three words adequately sum up this adventure, which is convenient because they are are so easily intertwined.

Katie pondered allowed last week,

"I'm just wondering where makgeoli is going to show up on your 30 days."

I love this beverage. I became quite the queen of rice wine. It's wonderful - light, refreshing, sweet, smooth and oh, so cheap. One bottle is around $1.20.

Makgeoli is merry. The bubbles justify it for a special occasion. It is also the beverage of choice for hikers. At the peaks of mountains, you'll see Korean's downing this stuff in a celebratory manor.

Most people drink it straight, but since I became such a fan, I created unique ways to enjoy. I mix it with orange juice or cider. Most frequently, I enjoyed it mixed with drinkable yogurt. I tell pretty much everyone I meet about this combination and have yet to meet someone who doesn't jump on the train.

And rocks. MOUNTAINS. They're vast, yet humble in this country.

 Oh my. MOUNTAINS.

And the third: merriment -
the convenience and promotion of a good time. Always. Always. I have had so much good, raw fun.

My words are a little gone right now but as I prepare to go, my heart is calm. Mostly I'm looking forward to a good, long sleep.

Here I go. Five hours to the bus. NYC bound.

KOREA, THANK YOU.

2 DAYS - THE LOVE NEST

First it was at Gillian's. Then all winter at Katie's. Then Chelin's. And now it's Kerryn's.

I'm typing this from the nest at Katie's while she's at work. This was my request. Yesterday after I finished packing, moving, closing accounts and running around the city, I wanted to be sprawled flat in the love nest. I wanted to stay in Damyang one last time.

The love nest is a combination of all the squishy things in one's apartment laid nicely in some central position of the apartment. At Katie's, it also includes a heating pad. When you're in the love nest, you prepare not to leave. You bring the hot water kettle, the tea, the entire bottle of wine, your books and the computer. Everyone piles in and assumes a comfortable position. Sometimes a movie is played. Usually food is consumed. And sometimes we just fall fast asleep.

Laughing always happens.

There's seems to be an age when it's comfortable to say that having a sleepover can be less fun and more burdensome. As a guest, it's often hard to balance the joy providing company with feeling like an intruder on someone's normal routine.

Not here.

Perhaps this is an element of being an expat that I'll quickly eliminate when I get back home. Everyone's always moving around, and considering we seem to have apartments in all corners of this city, it's convenient to convene for sleep.

I almost wrote, "I'm going to miss these piles.", but honestly, I have a lot of random floors lined up this next year. "Floor" might be too generous. I have a lot of flat surfaces on the horizon.

Here's to blankets. Here's to the nest. Here's to love.
Here's to community.
Here's to SLEEPING OVER, living out of a backpack and silly, silly mornings.

Here's to lovely humans.

As Katie said, "I just like waking up with other people."