Yahoo! Saturday! Parrrrrr-Tay!
Except I don’t drink. Nor do I smoke and I find the smell of it repulsive when it’s in my clothes. I have an amazing skill at saying the most room-chilling things at the worst possible time. I’m miserably socially awkward. And on top of that I’m a fat, balding, middle-aged man. Basically, just what everyone doesn’t want at the bar chatting up the twenty-something girls there in the vain hope that someone, somewhere will help you fend off, for at least one night, the crushing knowledge of what the true despair of emptiness feels like. So no fun for me.
Great Andrew W.K. song, though.
Here’s a photo I took in Japan once;
I never see stuff like this here in Korea. I don’t mean the girl in the kimono doing a traditional Japanese dance in the middle of a bar district. That would be pretty weird to see in Korea. Maybe back during the occupation. Too soon? Anyway, what I mean is that Japan always seemed to have all of its historical stuff revisited frequently whereas here in Korea that sort of thing is limited to reenactments at museums or historical parks. Even then it tends to be kept in the background. Japanese culture sees to embrace it’s (not the fascist empire but the sexier samurai and ninja-based) history while Korea tends to want to run away from any era that wasn’t the 1980s.
These are just broadly brushed cultural things that I’ve anecdotally noticed and I fully appreciate that your Korean/ Japanese spouse’s family are totally old school/ modern and are in no way stereotypical of their culture the same way you’re not an overbearing westerner so please don’t bother to “Um, actually…” at me because I totally get you.
Here’s a photo I took in Taiwan once;
I was only in Taiwan for a very short time. Know why? Because it’s really fucking hot there and I sweated so much that it left salt stains on all of my clothing. I think that if you grew up in a place where the air is a non stop sauna it’d be a wonderful location. But I’m just a wee, fragile Canadian who thinks twenty four degrees is a heatwave that will murder anyone who dares leave the safety of the air conditioner.
In all honesty, I did become acclimatized to the semi-tropical weather of Miyazaki. Ten degrees and no snow in January? Yes, please. When I went back home after half a decade of that I was massively nippley all summer because everyone had the air conditioner running full blast during Nova Scotia’s rare not-raining and cold days. I was probably unbearable to be around. Which sort of brings it back to the previous two points about being an unbearable westerner and not having a social life.
Here’s a picture I took in Canada once;
This is the sort of place I grew up in. Grey and dour. Which explains a lot about me. It’s also why I take a lot of pictures in black and white and certainly not because I always badly expose a lot of my photos and monochrome is a great way to cover it up. No sir. The problem with all of this grey is that it really instills a sense of inevitable failure in a person. Well, maybe not the grey so much as the culture of failure there that comes from being traditionally an economic backwater that even the most hard-working and optimistic people have difficulty escaping the gravity of. Our main export being laborers for other parts of the world because not everyone can afford meth.
Here’s a picture I took in Korea once;
Korea is also grey and dour but this place tasted the sort of success forever denied the east coast of Canada. It’s always looking up and onward towards a possible great future. Might explain why the bars here are full of middle-aged men chatting up twenty something girls in the vain hope that someone, somewhere will help you fend off, for at least one night, the crushing knowledge of what the true despair of emptiness feels like.