After all the frenzy I was whipped into about the threat of pickpockets? Not one ravening horde of gypsy kids descended on me to denude me of all earthly possessions. I must admit to being a bit dissapointed. In fact, during the whole first day we saw no one who even looked vaguely like a gypsy with the exception of two beggar women and one guy passed out on some steps. And I'm only calling him a gypsy to try to attach some bit of romantic allure to his unconscious state.Because I care like that.We rolled down to the Plaza San Pietro in front of the Vatican. The Vatican looks something like that terrible panorama I have stitched
together at the top of this page. And if you want to look at my shoddy stitching skills up close and personal you can click here to see an enormous version of the thing (Warning 332 KB!). As it was Sunday morning the lines to get in were monstrous. We lollygagged around a bit and then began to walk. And walk and walk.
Along one side of the road there was hourly parking, God alone knows what time you would have to get to the Vatican to get that, but since we were (easily amused) by the puny size of Italian cars, we posed the puny POSSLQ next to one so that those who had never been to Italy could scoff at the Italians. The sun was beating down quite ferociously, and by the time the day was done I had a pretty dramatic sunburn on my face and the top of my head. I think I need to look into hair-
transplant surgery.
I'ts not vanity. ;-)
Continuing to walk down some semi-random streets, we eventually ended up in a warren of alleyways which reminded me a little of the alleyways in Korea. Much wider, of course, and a few less businesses per square meter (see, I'm adapting to this savage land already), but I guess alley-life is alley life, and I was not at all suprised to turn one corner and find the ubiquitous vegetable peddler set up on the corner where two alleys met.Unlike Seoul, I have already seen a pretty wide variety of what I would characterize as street people, though like Seoul you also see a sprinkling of beggars who are trying to make a living by exposing their handicaps. Clubfoot seems to be a popular choice amongst the gypsies hereabouts. The other notable thing about the street-peddlers is that
the ones who lay out blankets and sell semi-modern things (sunglassses, small tripods, Snap-on ClubFoot Kits for the begging trade) all seem to be African. The ones who are selling softer items (scarves, handkerchiefs) all seem to be Asian women with a sprinkling of possible gypsies thrown in.
We continued on until we came to a gigantic plaza. I couldn't get the picture I wanted because in my paranoia about pickpockets I had left my satchel of lenses at the flat, but this picture is of an enormous statue which certainly commeorates something noble or the other and was absolutely certainly constructed by some hack like Bernini or Michaelangelo. It is amazing how many brilliant pieces of art are just plunked out there in public. The Rennaisance was an amazing confluence of skilled artists and cheap labor. It made quite a great deal of
beautiful public are possible, and while I am not one to (publicly) suggest we bring back indentured servitude, squalorous poverty, or even slavery, I am certain it would create much better vacation destinations down the line.
After lunch, violently stuffed and all about to explode, we headed back to the flat. After a bit the POSSLQ got all antsy and she and I headed down to the plaza again. I took pictures and she wandered around staring at the architecture.
I had a beer from a street vendor, and as the last rays of the afternoon sun continued to napalm my face, all was well in our little corner of Rome. We returned, yet again, to the flat, drank beer and tequila, and all fried that night as the temperature never dropped below 77 degrees in our rooms (Bax has a watch that tells time, speed, temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, level of grace with God, and severity of the Fitzgerald Contraction, among other measurables.)We awoke cranky and unrested, but ready to face the Romulans one more time.
. I was separated from my Korean friends, so I slept as much as I could. We arrived at SFO at about 2:30 and I was back home by 4:30 and in the house. Kept myself up until about midnite and then slept til 9;15 or so, with interstitial moments all about sleep and schoolwork.
carts by the mid-cabin exits and left them there. So all flight long there were informal little parties in the planes, and anyone who put on the headphones was likely trying to nap.
I was on my own. I can't imagine it was safe, and I had to try not to shift in the seat (takeoff was particularly interesting), but obviously I survived the trauma. ;-) 
and socks before he enters, though, cause he's a guy who cares!

















The pics from the pre-weddding "ham saseyo" party turned out pretty badly. They were taken by another photographer and his light meter was focused on the nice bright and shiny outside. Still, to the left is a picture of me during pre-game preparation. Traditionally I would be wearing a dead squid with eyeholes punched in it, but the guys I was with decided it would be too smelly, and I only had one coat and one shirt to get me through three days. I wanted the squid and as a compromise they went out and got me this thing.
on, probably 15 minutes, we bargained over each step. Jongkyou would wave an envelope in the air, and after much to and froing, decide where to put it on the ground. If the envelope was acceptably close I would step towards it and pick it up. At some points members of the family tried to pick me up and drag me in or push me forward. My considerable bulk compared to the older Korean men, stood me in good stead. They also bribed me with Soju and Kimchee (one out of two, guys!), tried to deke me out with envelopes containing only one coin, and in general tried to hasten my entrance and thus decrease the cost. All for play, of course, since I already had an informal idea of how many envelopes were prepared, but a lot of fun anyway. During the Soju bribing process I comitted my one faux-pas; as I was holding the dowry in my right hand and consequently accepted the Soju with my left.
Previously that day I was accorded some sort of honor or the other - or that's what they said. This is still all related to the fact that the families and friends are all boggled that a Miguk would come over solely to attend a Korean wedding. Apparently it rarely happens. Ed partly had me come over as a shield (on both of these trips) but I turned into the tie and crest as well.




The picture over there on the left is a picture of the night before. Jae clowning around before we she headed off to her parent's house for the hand-off of the dowry. I include it only to demonstrate how completely relaxes Jae seemed even as "The Hideous Event" grew inexorably closer.
something like Haie jan Gook (coagulated blood soup) we ended up in a soup kitchen of an entirely different kind which featured rice and beef, both of which I can more or less deal with. This soup takes three days to make, and is simmered in enormous freaking pots that are always on the boil. That thing to the right would be one of these pots.. you really can't tell, but that pot is about four feet across. I'm not sure why Korean cities don't burn down regularly.. all of the resauraunts have open flames, many of them feature cooking at the table, and the buildings are piled on each other in bugger-all fashion. And it's not like everything is nailed down completely tight. As we sat in a barbeque joint after the wedding we heard a tremendous grinding and crash and as we sat watching a table of older women was sent scattering by the ceiling-mounted fan which disintegrated directly above them. The proprietor came sprinting out of the back, pulled the power cord from the wall, and the ladies all returned to the table as if this were the most normal thing in the world. And I suppose it can't be too out of place since everyone took it quite calmly and not on threat of a lawsuit spoiled anyone's dinner.










