2 weeks of silence (technically not a complete silence if you follow my Instagram) allows me to finish one of the greatest challenges of our lives – traveling with your parents (and you pay for it). Oh sorry, forgive me, it should be ‘utmost success’ instead.
I like the idea of taking your family with you en route. It resembles the molecule of tolerance, patience and unconditional love into a recognizable portrait of filial piety in a world where Chinese soap operas spending 300 episodes to reassure how Confucius concept still applies.
Almost like a religion. (Or is it already?)
Why is there not a class on ‘how to plan a getaway with your parents’ already I do not know, as if no one was willing to tell you the glamorous life behind the perfect Instagram feed is a bunch of life-is-easier props, white bed sheets that haven’t been cleaned since the last shoes snogging and the bill for the cute cafes. Challenge accepted.
Of course, there’s no complaint here (even though I sound exactly like it) for the one kind of living we choose over the rest. Why, when personal goals and desire are mostly hackneyed statement to reckless teen years (and even more to preying tactics from brands), almost like a 21-century essential, do we still care the applauses at the finishing line (if any, there stands Howard Roark in silence) from your uncle, your friends’ sister, neighbours, passer-by, fellow Instagram users, and people.
And your mom’s sister’s son-in-law’s cousin.
I was talking about the shoes I chose for the day if you didn’t know already. This was the outfit for a morning walk in the wood (yea the wood with real loose sands and sneaky steps and slippery leaves) and for the tremendous amount of walking later that day in Samcheong-dong.
Could I get DHL to my hotel please.