14 (Tue) February 2012
from Kebab House
on the bus
-Daegwalnyeong, Pyeongchang, Gangwon, Republic of Korea-
Holiday in Gangwon (Day 4 of 4)
- Day 1 (3.037 Jogae Gui)
- Day 2 (3.038 Hoe)
- Day 3 (3.039 Hanwoo Lady Burger)
- Day 4 (3.040 Chicken Kebab)
The plan: Hitch a ride to Gangneung, with W and the kid, on the bus chartered by the camping crew (who will go on to hike and camp out on a nearby mountain – my bum knee prevents me to join them). Hang out on the beach (Saturday). Regroup with the camping crew for dinner (Sunday), and take a shuttle to Yongpyong (while the crew returns to Seoul in their bus). Play in the snow for a couple days (Monday and Tuesday), and take a public bus back to Seoul. Back in the day, I would’ve called that “a plan and a half.”
When it comes to the milestones in my son’s life, the feelings that I’ve experienced have generally been somewhat prosaic thus far. The first time holding him in my arms, I failed to register any of those emotions that other parents seem to describe with such obvious inevitability, like a rush of rapture, a profound this-is-the-greatest-moment-of-my-existence epiphany, an overwhelming sense of resolve to fulfill my duty as a father. The same was true of his first locution, his first consumption of a solid comestible, his first perambulation, his first matriculation at daycare, his first recitation of the printed word, his first defecation on the pot, his first clandestine observation of porn, his first independent preparation of a meal. To be sure, I’m proud and relieved and fascinated by it all, but only on an intellectual level.
Witnessing DJ ski for the first time, however, made my heart flutter with pure joy. While the original schedule for Yongpyong Resort had not involved anything beyond sledding, he suddenly declared a desire to try skiing, much to our surprise. Where physical activity is concerned, until now, Dominic has taken after the yellow-bellied men on his mother’s side; for example, a motorized tricycle that rolls at the breakneck speed of 1 kph, he’s too afraid to ride it, a cautious temperament that I attribute genetically to his maternal grandfather, who drives 10% below the speed limit with both hands on the wheel at the 10/2 o’clock positions and frantically implores with bone-shuddering anxiety that I do the same whenever he’s in a car that I’m driving. But apparently, the kid has some of his old man in him after all. After a single lesson, he was on the slopes and snowplowing like a champ. It was beautiful. I couldn’t stop screaming from the elation, exhilaration, exultation, exuberance, euphoria, ecstasy. I can’t remember ever being happier.
He was so adamant on skiing to the very last minute that we didn’t have time to eat dinner before catching the bus back to Seoul. Fortunately, at the last minute, I ran across a stall selling kebabs to go, which I got to go and ate in the bus (hence the shaky photo). Turned out to be pretty good. 4,500 won each. (W and DJ opted for mandu.)
(See also FOODS)
(See also PLACES)