Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

There was this perpetual drunken joke of myself and my Western acquaintances about using US citizenship to leverage dating the local girls in Asia. "Who cares about language or cultural barriers ?" We would say, as long as we can hang our US passport around our necks and flaunt them around the nearest Western-styled bars we can find. If we do it correctly, we do not even have to say anything at all before we can hook some young pretty wives to bring back home to the good ole USA... But the drunken joke really in essence reflects a sad truth that unfortunate still is very much relevant in most parts of a fast-developing Asia. Besides the perpetually isolationist Japan where young people no longer have any desire to be anywhere outside their native country , for most of Asians, settling down in the West, and especially the States, is a dream that they would like to be fulfilled in one way or the other. Even in wealthy places like South Korea, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, emi

"You know, I am just so used to living in a big city that I feel uneasy when I do not see a convenience store and a subway station within ten minutes walk of where I live." Those were the exact words coming out of my mouth two minutes after getting picked up by my parents at the San Diego Airport. Harking back to the last conversations before departing Japan for one last time , I constantly remarked that I will miss the lifestyle of convenient shopping and transportation that I will not get in the U.S. I was totally right, as I realized even immediately after landing on her soil for the first. Indeed, to the accusation of inconvenience, San Diego certainly can make no justifiable comebacks. Aside from a few un-cared for and unconfirmed rumors of her non-extensive trolley system extended a little bit beyond its current northern terminus "very soon in the future" (without any concrete plans besides a "proposed" 2015 completion date), public transpor

One and a half hour until the plane for San Francisco departs from Seoul Incheon Airport. My second short-term work trip to Korea concludes with more calmness and less of the passionate pro-Korean emotions I got from the country last time. Back in 2008, I remember telling myself that I will for sure come back and for months after, tried my best to keep up with everything and anything Korean (ultimately leading to my taking Korean class my senior year). Talk about the power of the Korean Wave ... Three years later, back in the same airport, going to the same place after finishing the same thing, there somehow is only a nonchalant, almost empty non-caring attitude. London, surprisingly, is not in my head, even though the news of the riots seem to make everyone around me a bit more anxious. And of course, going back to San Diego, as always, never really excite me more than the fact that I can get some free housing and food. Inside my mind is emptiness, pure emptiness, without a s

While Seoul and the northern half of South Korea drench in the leftover of yet another storm (after a previous one flooded half of the Metropolis and caused deadly mudslides in Chuncheon), over here in Busan, the skies are clear and the beaches are packed. The only three-day weekend of the Korean summer seems to have brought the entire youth population of Seoul down here, to the point that the characteristic Gyeongsang accent is getting drowned out by the more "standard" stuff spoken up north. Youth and sunshine in the premier beach town in Korea means quite much...and honestly, it is exactly why I am drawn back here for the seocnd time (going against my standard principle of not traveling to the same place more than once). Unlike my trip here back in 2008 when the city was rained out for an entire weekend, this time around the crowded beaches of Gwangalli and Haeundae were perfect for photos...and crowd-watching. Yes, crowd-watching, to the single male seeking a mate

The dogs just barked away in their little cages. As I passed by the inconspicuous corner of the market, I could not have possibly missed those distinct sounds. I had to keep up my nonchalant appearance as I continued strolling down the dusty little market streets. But the hawking would not stop. Targeting the strange, innocent-looking young tourist, the vendors came. They blocked my way down the street, whispering into my ear, “hey, how about one for tonight? It is cheap today.” I had to look where the vendors were pointing their fingers. The dogs, all of which perhaps the most massive I have ever seen in my lifetime of strange travels, looked back at me from their cages. Some whimpered at the sight of a “new guy.” All examined me with almost teary eyes. Toward the further inquiring voice of the overly enthusiastic vendors, I had no response. I was at a loss for words, any words. The sight of “the men’s best friends” happily wagging their tails at the sight o

After weeks of anxious waiting, the accommodation offer from LSE finally arrived in my mailbox. At the rather expensive rate of around 120 pounds a week, I will have a single dorm room located at the heart of London, two blocks away from both the main campus as well as my new home station of King’s Cross (of the Harry Potter fame, as I discovered last weekend after watching the 7th movie). Yet, the uneasiness upon acknowledging the prospects of going back to that dreaded environment of school dormitory is somewhat outweighing the joy from not having to go out and find my own housing in an unknown metropolis. Indeed, it is not an exaggeration to say that dorm life, more than classes, activities, or personal relationships, defined my four years of college life. The dorm-mates, for better or worse, became not friends but collectively a surrogate family: people you may not necessarily like at all, yet must spend time with in a regular basis. Their presence, no matter how unwelcome,