So I don't mean to boast, but I will. While you suckers were out and about on your Saturday afternoons, I was hobnobbing with the American Ambassador to Korea. He invited us into his residence for the second time this year (though this time he was actually there). The invite was for a Thanksgiving feast since we're all stuck here in Korea.

The Ambassador is a nice man. He plays in a band comprised of Ambassadors around the world called The Coalition of the Willing. His wife is REALLY something though. She's this charming, talkative, intelligent, and funny artist type. They do this great thing with all Ambassadors around the world where they are allowed to take an art collection with them to their residence. She was in charge of that one and made some really stylish choices. I loved her teapot collection, I would have stolen them out of the case and used them for coffee at our table if I could have.

The dinner was fabulous and it was great to get a little taste of some home cookin'. Despite my excessively large plate of food and consequently my pained stomach on the bed of my motel for an hour afterwards, it was totally worth it. I'm thinking that my body is adapted to the Korean cuisine, becuase everytime I have American food, my stomach gets roudy and takes it out on my colon.

Though the whole weekend was scheduled around this event, there were a few things of priority that only seoul can offer us country folk on Jeju.
First order of business: Burger King. Followed by an evening of chilled beer and hot beats at Bricx, a hookah bar in Hongdae. The following morning was devoted to shopping for those things I can't find on the island, like winter clothes. But Seoul proved to be yet another roadblock for the wickedly tall. I realize that I never went to the American district in Itaewon, but the markets seemed like a place to get big and tall clothes. I failed. I just don't care. I'm not trying to fit in with the Korean steez anyway, I accept defeat and will wear my layers of what-the-hell-is-that this winter.

After Lauryn got some shoes that were still too small and I walked away empty handed, the whole crew arrived at the Ambassador's "humble" residence as he called it. It's by no means humble, with it being a a couple acre property next to the Palace in Seoul. It has a pool, art studio, servants' quarters, circular driveway which peaks up at their home. The whole house is done in a Korean tradition and in the center of their house is a coi pond with large glass windows visible from almost any room in the house. It's sweet.

After the Ambassador's place we strolled around a photo exhibit in front of City Hall. It was creative enough as it featured photos of photo-journalists in action. The desire to take a photo of someone taking a photo of the photo exhibit which featured photos of photojournalists taking photos was squashed by the fact that I left my camera on for several hours the day before and drained my battery.

After my jaunt with the porcelain and some writhing in the motel room that stayed at a constant temperature of 90 degrees in contrast to the 40 degrees outside, we decided it was time to invade the girls' motel room around the corner with some beer and soju from the cornerstore. The pre-game led to an enthusiastic cheer from Emerald about semen on motel beds and getting pregnant... I swear, sometimes I feel like I missed the boat when these ballads emerge from Emerald.

A few of us wanted to hit the hookah bar again, so we brought a few more guests and invaded slowly. By the end of the night, with some shady directions to get to the basement bar of Bricx, I conducted a head count and we totaled near 40 people in this relaxed atmosphere. It's a good thing we were all ordering throughout the night because our shenanigans were not only unbecoming of Cultural Ambassadors (not nearly as undesirable as US soldiers in Seoul), but also just plain obnoxious for a hookah bar where people are trying to relax and avoid the hectic nightlife.

Saturday ended with a Sunday morning excursion to a dance club. Korea makes so much sense. There was a freaking locker area instead of a coat-check. How genius is that? Nothing gets stolen, the club makes their extra cash and people are just al around happier with a system like that. Anyway, it was good times, but those damned mashed potatoes decided to make me acknowledge their presence again and I decided it was time to go and vent some desperately unwanted gas.

Sunday was Insadong, the oldest part of Seoul. Some shopping and viewing of art exhibitions was indeed done, but the cutest thing ever was the 6 year old girl that walked up to and struck up a converstaion with Emerald. I'm pretty sure the girl was curious as to why Emerald was talking with the most unusual tonal patterns, but these days we all wonder why she does that.