blossoms in my eyes

Korea is dynamic. We all have a love-hate relationship with this phrase, and I, for one, couldn't find one more apt to describe this whole experience. So dynamic, in fact, that I have been too busy observing, experiencing, absorbing, ingesting, digesting to even keep up. Absences of blogs do not mean absences of thought. Apologies, apologies for my failures to share.

Since last I blogged I have been to the beaches of Busan, walked the dirty streets of Daejeon, danced in Daegu again again again, had fish nibble the nasties from my toes, watched live-action anime, ate strawberries from stalls, riled the baboons, watched a traditional wedding, walked through tombs and zoos and mountains and neon.

But the most magical, by far, was the wistful white explosion of cherry blossoms. The first in Gumi, I'll swear to the end, were right outside my door. Then slowly, like a lazy sunday recovery yawn (from this ridiculously cold winter) the streets turned white. Not bitter-cold snowy white (though we did have a freakish evening of snow last week, which, mixing with the cherry blossoms was more beautiful than my annoyance wanted to give credit to) but cherry blossoms carry the spring in the petals, whispers of pink and promises of green.

And they are brief. The tensing of the muscles before springing upward into the air. Now, they are beginning to fly. It is raining white, all swirls and whorls and little polka dots that make me want to dance and wear sun dresses and dust off the bikinis and get ready ready ready for the heat. Green is coming. Spring is coming.

Korea, with her toes done up and finger nails matchin is gonna be one good time.