Jungle Fever

I am as excited about trekking as much as the next gal--the next gal being a 7-month pregnant woman with triplets, on bed doctor-ordered bed rest. But I am in the north of Thailand and that seems to be the thing to do. So I readily signed up for my three-day hike into the jungle, passing through the Golden Triangle. Sounds soooo interesting! Within 45 minutes I had more regrets than a college student the morning after a night of binge drinking. The trek started up a steep narrow path, that can best be described as a vertical line. I started panting and sweating profusely, trying to stop reminding my self that I have only 2 days and 10 hours left.

The jungles are beautiful and peaceful and spiritual. But amazingly after four to five hours these adjectives are replaced by: hot, fucked up, ridiculous. . . All of that self-love you walked into the jungles with turns into self loathing" Why am I doing this to myself? What was I thinking? What the fuck?!! Am I insane, I wonder? Only white people do this crazy shit."

Trekking in front of me was a Swiss guy, wearing flip-flops and practically chain smoking. I am clearly in awe of him, as he is walking like he is strolling through Central Park on a Saturday afternoon. He later--way way way later, when I was able to communicate again, told me that he grew up in the Alps, where they had to walk to get where they wanted and so trekking through the jungles was nothing to him, inclines and all. To someone who will unabashedly take a cab from 34th Street and Broadway to 42nd Street and Broadway, I know I am way out of my league.

Only Black Girl in Jinju

Yes. I was the only black person in this relatively small village in Jinju, South Korea. Coming from New York, that was quite a shock. I was teaching English. (They were some other teachers there from around the world--Australia, America, Ireland, New Zealand, United Kingdom--but just one black person. Me!) The kids are great! And soooo clever. (Seriously, teaching Korean kids must be every teacher's wet dream! They are hardcore about studying and learning!) Anyway, back to being the only black person!

People would literally put their hands in my hair, and touch me-every day!! One day I was at the only museum and was totally surrounded by some people who kept touching my skin and my hair! (This was only last year!! 2008!) It was crazy.

Then, one quiet Saturday afternoon, I was walking to work, when a van stopped and a guy jumped out and screamed, "Marina!" OMG! I totally freaked! It was a delivery guy from the UPS equivalent who was on his way to my apartment to deliver a box of Swiss chocolates from a friend in Switzerland(yes, there are noooo Swiss chocolates to be found in Jinju) ! I can only imagine what the people at the postal deposit told about how to find me.

Black girl in Japan

If you walked down 2nd Avenue in New York City wearing only combat boots and a smile, (and what the heck--throw in a swastika on your navel!)you would be stared at less than if you were a black girl with braids, in work clothes, going to work in Tokyo! Seriously. In Japan there is absolutely noooo reprieve! The stares are constant and endless. You could sense that they want to touch you to see if you are real! But coming from a big city, you don't really expect that; you expect a certain amount of anonymity. Forget all that! Expect to be like Jim Carey in the Truman Show. Sometimes I would try to stare people down on the train, but they were so busily locked into staring at me that they didn't even notice that I was staring back! Only when they finally noticed would they lower their eyes. Anyway, it was a sort of Sisyphusian task.

Expect the Japanese to be always shocked when they see you--Like they are seeing you for the first time!

Ok. So my boyfriend and I moved to Kyoto and rented a house, in what I can only describe as a sort of Dickensian, 19th century fishing village! It was a two-storey house in a very narrow cobblestoned street. The houses were all tightly packed together as if their main objective was the keep the the other houses upright. Ok. Sort of like this:




And six months later:
My neighbors! The people I have lived sooooo close to, for six months! Who see me leaving everyday, at the same time, would still put her hand to her mouth and titter!!; like she had just seen me for the first time!! This experience makes you a better person.

A day in Itaewon

Itaewon is the only place in all of Korea where you will meet other black people. It is where the US Army base is. After living for a year in a small village in the south called Jinju, where I was the only black person I was overjoyed to finally make it to Itaewon in Seoul! As the bus turned toward downtown Seoul I saw black people walking on the streets. I was sooooo happy. If I were a dog I would have been wagging my tail and yapping happily. "Look Vicky! black people!" I said to my friend from Louisiana. It is as though you have become the people in the village we just left, she laughed. Seriously. I was so deprived of seeing my people for so long that it was almost like I was in awe. So we disembarked and right away, put our luggage in a storage locker at the large bus station and spent the afternoon walking around soaking in the varieties of people--light, dark, African, Indian. . .moreso than the shopping opportunities that we didn't have in Jinju. That was a great first day.