From a very early age, most of our youthful creativity and imagination - our inner child - is trained and taught out of us until we become slaves to grades and test scores. We desperately try to get into a good university so we can get a decent job, climb the career ladder, buy a nice house and car, and start a family. This is the vision of normality, perpetually driven into us by society.
If you were to come up to me in a ramshackle bar and ask me, "Jack, what was your favourite experience from your time in South Korea?" Without a doubt, I would tell you to bugger off and leave me alone. However, if you were to ask me when I was not busy in the business of savouring stouts, I would tell you that, indisputably, it was staying with Buddhist monks in temples perched high in the Korean hills.
This is a continuation of my jaunt to Beijing for Chinese New Year, which I left you last at the exit of the fabled Forbidden City. Yugyeong and I were in search of sustenance, and it didn't take us long to unearth the local grub, quite literally. As we entered a traditional market in the centre of the capital, our senses were assaulted by all manner of unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells.
With Chinese New Year just around the corner, where on earth does one start looking to experience its magnificence to the maximum? I concluded China would be a pretty good start, specifically Beijing, which was only a three-hour hop over North Korea from my home city of Daegu. This being a very last minute affair, I did little (nothing) in the way of research on the occasion, which came back to bite us later.
The third and final leg of my Bornean adventure began with the most uncomfortable flight I have ever had the displeasure of taking. Following a fifteen-hour un-air-conditioned bus from the Bruneian capital to Kota Kinabalu the day before, I foolishly believed the worst of my transport woes were behind me. No, I was wrong.
Yesterday, I was atop Malaysia's tallest mountain. Today, I was aboard a flight from Kota Kinabalu to Brunei (officially named the Nation of Brunei, the Abode of Peace). A nation overlooked by many Bornean backpackers (I may have too had it not been for Bucket List 196), although I was determined to discover as much as anyone possibly could about the miniature Islamic nation - indeed the smallest majority Muslim nation on earth (in terms of population).
Twas the night before Christmas, when near to the hostel, everything was stirring, especially the brothel. Welcome to Malaysia. More specifically, the stretched coastal city of Kota Kinabalu on the mythical island of Borneo. I am here on my Christmas vacation, from teaching in South Korea, and boy do I require a break (attempting to teach toddlers the nuances of English grammar certainly takes its toll).
Throughout the autumn and darkening winter of my year teaching in South Korea, I went on as many short trips/weekends away as I possibly could. This was partly to see the new country I called home and partly to take my mind off the job that wholly occupied my thoughts and stresses from Monday to Friday.
I left you last at the infamous blue meeting rooms of the Joint Security Area (or JSA), having spent the morning hopping between North and South Koreas and taking photos with stern-looking border guards. Our group was then shown towards the North Korean gift shop, where all manner of legally-acquired northern merchandise was up for grabs.
