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On the Trip I might as well publish the story here. Apologies in advance for the lack of photos; they will have to wait until I can access a computer which allows me to use USB, because hostel computers don´t. The trip has been, basically, cancelled. After a week in Madrid and a few days in Barcelona, I´ve realized that this isn´t the time for such a vacation... I´ve been feeling terribly homesick, partly because it´s been over 16 months since I´ve been home, and also because I just left my second and more recent home, Korea. I thought, while leaving, that I´d feel more ¨at home¨ going to western Europe, but it had the opposite effect... I´ve felt disconnected fully on both fronts, and sad for not having either of the homes or sets of routines that I´ve become accustomed to over the years. I had these intrepid ideas in my mind, of traveling to remote places, spending each night with new faces, and generally going rogue through Europe... but now that I´m here I just miss the people I...

Times have been good. I´m working on posting photos, but the hostel computers have time limits and typically don´t like people plugging in their USB cables. All in good time. I hope everyone is well back home, back in Korea, and back wherever else you all are! I tell ya, the wealthy demographics in the world are so spread apart, they go just about everywhere to travel and study and meet lovers and do everything else! Would we be so inclined to live this way if it weren´t for the close contact kept thanks to the internet? Madrid was great. I think the best part was staring ito Bosch´s ¨Garden of Earthly Delights¨at the Prado. Great stuff. Today Em and I may also hit up Barcelona´s picasso museum!

The culture shock even during this first day has been bewildering, confusing, and tiring. I've spoken Korean thank yous to a number of shop keepers, and I keep passing things and accepting things with both hands, Korean style. Everything is different, the buildings, the people, the sounds, even the smell of things. I'm tired, and frankly lonely and sad, missing what feels like two separate homes and emotional connections on opposite sides of the world at the same time. The hostel is nice, albeit smokey and full of people my age with drinking and drug stories to which I simply cannot relate. God help me I just don't binge or pass out or fight or deprive myself of sleep or make any of these stories that get passed around the bar table by my generation. On the upside, I can speak more Spanish than I previously thought. Somehow, those dozens of hours doodling on my desk in the back of Ms. Ciccone's class through high school weren't a complete waste. Looking back, ...