This morning as I was looking out my window, I got a strange feeling,
the same feeling I have when I’m traveling in a new country.
The homes, streets, nooks and crannies are unfamiliar, and my eyes linger, imagining the lives of those who inhabit them, imagining how it might feel to live there. It’s a feeling of possibility, curiosity, and slight discomfort.
I don’t know if it was caused by the recent change in the placement of my desk that shifted my view out the window or if the mugginess of the summer air reminded me of similar mugginess I’ve felt on summer trips, but for whatever reason, today didn’t feel like part of my normal daily routine.
It very much was––absolutely nothing unexpected or noteworthy happened this morning––but somehow the heaviness of the air around me seemed to carry the promise of adventure, wonders yet to be beheld.
I have lived in Korea for almost 3 years now(!)
and been living in Busan for a good six months, so I’ve gotten pretty comfortable here. I know which snacks I like to buy at the local mart, know what to say to the taxi drivers, waiters, and vendors. I know how to get from place to place (thanks to my smartphone) and have friends who can help me with the really difficult tasks.
I don’t have to think about day to day life too much anymore. But today, I was glad to think about it a little.
I looked at the faces of the people I passed on the street, lifted my eyes to admire the majesty of the mountains surrounding me, noticed the variety of buildings within view. And I remembered that today could be a day of adventure, just as much as the day I ate cherries straight off the tree at a chateau in the south of France or the day I rode barebacked on a small, scruffy horse down a dirt road in the mountains of Mindanao.
There is just as much life, just as much possibility, and just as much mystery right here, right now.