what is normal?

I found myself on top of a mountain last night. Well, maybe not a mountain. More like a big hill. It rests somewhere in the middle of this city, and separates me from most of the places I go. I usually walk around it, but last night, we hiked through it, and I had one of those unexpected and lovely breathtaking sort of moments in life that don't come often enough. I hadn't realized that we had reached the very top, so I was still looking down, at the dirt. When I glanced up, I saw all of the neon lights of the city that are rather obnoxious close up, but are rather beautiful from far away. I don't think the loss of breath was because of the view itself, but the unexpectedness of it. I peruse through concrete streets each day, and I hear buses braking or horns honking or the obnoxious sound that the little girls shoes that live above me make when they tear down the steps outside of my apartment. I never hear cicadas, or crickets, or the wind blowing the trees. I rarely hear the sound of my feet hitting dirt, or see the moon encapsulated by trees instead of buildings. The loss of breath came from the contrast I was able to experience in such a short amount of time. One minute I am eating kimbap in a building next to another building, and the next minute I am encompassed by nature overlooking the overdone manmade landscape that is more normal to me than the things of the earth. 

Today I went on another adventure, through streets and communities I had yet to discover thus far. After taking a left, and then another, I found the good stuff: A rather attractive Korean man selling fish on an outdoor market, sitting next to a man with a booth selling used bicycles he had repaired himself...they were across from a donut vender, that was next to a vegetable vender selling everything including eggplant. I took it all in, including the stares, and continued on passed the seven eleven with a Hello Kitty decal in the window, next to an overweight worn out old man sitting on a plastic green chair in the humidity and sunshine, taking a nap.

Near home, I had one of those moments of comfort, brought on by a familiar face. I was pretty sure that I was headed in the right direction up to this point, but with me, one can never be sure. I started to see things familiar, which gave me the "I am almost home" feeling, something that's fleeting when you are living temporarily in a foreign country. There were so many kids all around, as I live next to a middle school, and I usually look to see if  recognize any of the students as my own, and hadn't until today. I glance to my left, at three girls walking alongside each other. I look a little closer, as I don't have my glasses on, and I wave, at Rachel, one of my smarter kids (she studies English for a year in Australia) and she waved back, saying, "Hi Meredith." My next few steps were more like glides.