Upstate New York

Great museum in Corning, New York.  Traveling these last few days with Blake have been awesome. Definitely a trip to remember. 

Korea 2013, last

At our hotel in Gyeong-Ju, Blake got an empty room, in Korean style. He loved having his own space, and sleeping on the mat on the floor
I got some good grampa time with Tiago
Blake and I took our last morning to visit Gwanghwamun Square, where King Sejong the Great presides he actually was great; invented useful things and helped his people progress
Dunkin Donuts
In Itaewon, I was accosted by at least 5 tailors who wanted to make a suit for me. We settled for a custom shirt for Blake
Mexican food for last meal with Kevin, Milu and Paxton

Korea 2012, part Four - Gyeongju

We took the KTX high speed train (280 km/hr =175 mph) from Seoul. Two hours later, we are in the "real" Korea (pronounced "chong-jew") where the Buddhist and traditional ways are still in effect

View from Seokguram, Buddhist grotto with sacred Buddha visited from all over Asia.
Sea of Japan out there somewhere.
(Photos of the grotto and Buddha not allowed)

In this garden next to Buddhist Temple, the faithful pile rocks as part of the ritual

Anapji Pond, relaxation for kings and tourists 

The oldest astronomical observatory in Asia, 

built in 7th century

Treats include the usual- corn dogs and on the cob

And famous bread

.. and the unusual - steamed silk worms. Nope, didn't try those..

Korea 2013, part Three - DMZ

This was a life experience!
To be where the tension is high and the world is watching... Yet for the troops there, it seems to be another day at the office.
Blake did his best imitation of the intimidating stance of the ROK (Republic of Korea = South Korea) guards
On the right side of the table, Blake is in North Korea; on the left side, Kathy is in the ROK. They once had a ten hour discussion at this table concerning the height of the UN flag on it
The Bridge of No Return is where the prisoners from each side crossed over in 1953, never to cross again
A new memorial was being put together at DMZ, with figures pushing the two sides together
Blake at the Dorasan station, not used now because the trains are not allowed to cross the border with passengers.
New Chinese friends. Why don't they come to visit from the north...?
Behind the soldiers, the propaganda/fake city in North

Korea 2013, part Two

More interesting stuff:
Obama socks next to Sy, the Gangnam style guy and Superman. Who wins the coolness contest?
The guy who made Blake his custom baggage tags that read "Mufasa." Unlikely his bags will ever be confused with others.
Delivery guys on scooters in busy marketplaces. Fearless.
Radishes that are pickled, spicy, delicious.
Trees on life support. Supported by ropes and poles, and they use IV drip bags to feed the roots.

Korea 2013, part One

Some of our favorite things from the first few days
Holding grandson Tiago for the first time ever
Blake perched on the geographic center of Seoul, high on a mountain next to the N Tower
Pagodas
Korean food with Kevin and Milu
Street vendors with interesting and delicious treats
Artsy shots of Blake, including one by university with DMZ water bottle perched on Pontiac
View of Gangnam section of Seoul from 63 tower, and the glass platform view straight down
Playing "angerbirds" with Paxton

SIBLINGS WHO CELEBRATE by Blake Smith

I belong to an American family that loves recreational activities.  Each year, the holidays bring us together in a very specific way.  On December 24th, the Smith siblings gather in the basement of our home for a night of celebratory tradition.

The Sibs

This all begins with the migration down the stairs.  When my brothers, sister and I were younger, this entailed grabbing a pillow and blanket before leaping down into the space below our home.  Some of the kids were quartered there already throughout the years, and would only have to open their bedroom doors to walk into the living space.  This tradition is one of the only ones we have, and we hold to it carefully.  The family to which I belong has certainly evolved in my lifetime.  I am the youngest, and now the only child remaining unmarried.  A few of my siblings have moved to very far away places, and some to not-so-distant locations.  However, the step that remains the same is the one taken downward by each sibling, each year, with armfuls of bedding and snacks, from the top of our stairs.

Once all have descended, and all items are tossed onto couches or carpet, it is time to select a movie.  This is essential because it is a device that works towards our common goal of reaching the next day.  It does the job of a time machine, transporting us, in a pleasant way, to a much later hour.  The choices are strewn across the space in front of my brother's knees in the middle of the room--the weight of each plastic rectangular case distributed among crowds of soft, green, support columns.  No one wants to choose, and each sibling wears a face of pretended disinterest.  "Leanne, pick a movie..." is spoken by half of the brothers to the only sister they have.  Her argument always, is a valid yet unacknowledged one.  She warns us that she will only fall asleep within the first 20 minutes, and shouldn't be forced to choose the film.  After Leanne chooses the film, each brother settles into their seat and watches intently until the credits roll.

"Leanne, pick a movie."

Leanne's long, shallow breaths are quickly turned into hurried, conscious ones with the flip of the light switch following the film.  Energy floods the basement as we realize the occasion (and consume small amounts of sugary treats).  Next we play Mario Kart.  After we watch a movie together, we habitually plug in the game console and dive across the ottoman for the best controller.  This has always been the case, as long as I've been a part of the family, and always this game.  In years when my brother and I were less-aged and the older siblings were less patient, this phase of the night had disastrous potential.  Our skill levels have always varied across a wide range, and the outcomes of each race become frustratingly repetitive, as well as competitive.  The virtual relays continue, regardless, and we all enjoy this special part of the evening's tradition.

After playing the game for about an hour longer than each of us intended, and exactly as long as each of us should have expected, we agree to attempt slumber.  We all try, and try we must, but with differing levels of effort.  A few of us, varying from year to year, can sink into the warm crevice of a familiar sofa and drift into sleep with ease.  The rest of us remain lying there with eyes wide open.  I am of the latter kind.  It should be simple to fall asleep; I do it every night.  Unfortunately this night is certainly unique, which only adds to the trouble at hand.  It becomes rather boring listening to other bodies survive while their minds carry them away to peaceful worlds.  Eric is always awake as well, but we refrain from talking, mostly to avoid disturbing others with the outbursts of laughter that would inevitably follow.  Also, because we are both fighting congruent yet individual battles.  It is an annual struggle, yet I can never recall its ending.  I only know that I have defeated the restlessness of anticipation when I awake to the new day.

The legacy of the basement celebration is continued into the few early moments of that new day spent downstairs--literally, at the bottom of the stairs.  Eric arises before anyone else, followed shortly after by myself.  we force ourselves to wait as long as we can to wake the others, sometimes retreating to the screen for an extra round of Mario Kart.  Once everyone has replaced their humanistic cravings to remain asleep with holiday warmth and a sleepy smile we huddle at the base of the stairwell.  We wait, like gently rippling water within a water well to ascend into the euphoria above.

For many people everywhere, ritualistic tradition fills the 25th of December.  For my family every year, that day is unpredictable and still rather exciting, but not the highlight of the season.  It is what naturally follows an eve

 of repeated and dependable excitement.  It is increasingly filled with commercialism and busy shuffling from place to place.  The night before, the one we always spend together, is what we love the most about the season, and is the only tradition we continually sustain.