WORMDATE: L2-2.5: 1,241-54,770: 17-773
달은 보러 밤에서 동안 산책하가요.
With New Year’s coming up, a lot of our neighborhood is shutting down. A popular tradition here is to watch the sun rise on New Year’s Day. We happen to be on one of the more eastern parts of the peninsula and there’s generally a massive influx of people. Like, last year:
This year is looking more like:
That’s the spot where I like to gawk at the moon. Shut down until the tide passes.
That’s a little annoying, I suppose. I’m not really bothered. It’s more like I feel some weird obligation to express annoyance. Like, seeing a sign like that, one feels a bit more satisfaction saying “aw, that sucks” instead of “well, that’s totally expected and I was mainly curious about how the sign would look.”
But I’ve been on some pretty decent walks lately. Wife has a week off so I’ve even had some company. And we stumbled into a thing. It’s fucking awesome.
But I’m not going to give the name of it. Not because I’m trying to keep some sort of secret. It’s not a secret. I just don’t want google deciding that I’m some sort of fucking tourguide.
Anyway . . .
Wife and I were surprised to find this walking path along an old rail track.
Last time I was down here, we’d basically just arrived. I’d gone out to get lost. I went to the beach and followed the coast past the fishing huts to the end of paved roads, then took a path until it led to an abandoned rail track, which I followed, as one does, until I found some tough old ladies who were hopping fences. They pointed me up a staircase and to a wooded hill, which led me into a bird park, and eventually back to my neighborhood, where I was still lost and spent the next couple hours circling my home in ever shrinking spirals until I saw something I recognized. There was no sign of this even being built.
It opened on Oct. 20 and even has a working (and beautiful) blue train. Closed for now because, well, you know.
Wife and I walked about 3km down this path last night. It being very late on Christmas night, it was quiet. Pretty much had the spot to ourselves. Just beautiful.
And not to get political on this but it’s almost impossible to walk a thing like this, alone, past midnight and not contrast the experience with what it would be in America. And it’s not just that America seems incapable of building public areas like this, with not a cop or security guard or billboard or fast-food joint to be seen, but that it can’t even imagine these spaces. It just doesn’t have the underlying society that makes something like this possible. This is impossible.
Americans don’t understand, they just don’t even know, can’t know, what has been stolen from them. How could they? The scale and the scope of the theft is incomprehensible. The loss is beyond words. It can’t even be explained. Not really.
That whole thing saddens me. A bone sadness.
But putting that aside, I also can’t describe how much I love it here and how at home I feel. It’s the first time I’ve felt at home anywhere. So maybe the feeling is normal. It might just be what people feel at home. I don’t know. It’s new to me.
I sometimes have this strange and recurring feeling, experienced again and with some intensity last night when looking at the waves hitting the rocks, that I’ve dreamed this place before, back when I was a child. It’s similar to that feeling one sometimes has in dreams. That sense that they’re in a place they’ve dreamed before but can only remember while they’re dreaming it. A strange feeling. A feeling that goes straight to the heart. It feels like undiscovered parts of you fitting and locking together. There’s a satisfying click. I get it a lot here.
And to be clear, I’m not interested in supernatural, psychological, or psychiatric explanations of this feeling. I have no urge to explain or examine this feeling. It’s just a strange and nice feeling.
For all I know, it might just be happiness.