Jazzin' It Up in New Orleans

Although I prefer travelling abroad as opposed to travelling around the United States, my trip to New Orleans definitely changed my view on that. Usually, large towns advertise themselves as having a local "buzz," but it is usually a cheap tactic used to attract tourists to their less-than-breathtaking towns.

However, New Orleans was different. Walking onto Canal Street is like stepping into a never-ending party. Day and night, streets are filled with people singing, eating, dancing, and just enjoying life in general. You can't help but crack a small smile when you pass Cafe du Monde, the smell of freshly cooked beignets topped with powdered sugar filling your nostrils. The people are the same way, with a gaiety that is contagious.

For me, I fell in love with "New Awlins" when I dragged my family to a hole in the wall record store. Ella Fitzgerald's Dream a Little Dream of Me was playing and indeed, the store was like a dream; for rows and rows of shelves were filled with old vinyl records, walls plastered with posters of Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, and many other jazz icons. I spent hours there, gawking at various old vinyl covers. I bonded with the store owners over chickory coffee and they exposed me to tons of other jazz artists.  From that day on, my knowledge and appreciation of jazz had increased exponentially.

But the dream was abruptly broken when I boarded a bus tour. We passed neighbourhoods with houses that were destroyed: entire roofs ripped off, smashed windows, and houses that were just flattened. Cemeteries that continued as far as the eye could see rolled by. It seemed that these places never left 2005, unable to recover from the terror of Hurricane Katrina. I noticed a side of New Orleans that I will never forget. But then I saw a construction crew lifting up the wall of an entire house. Repairs were in process.

As we started heading back, I heard jazz ensembles warming up for the evening crowd. I realized something: New Orleans wasn't stuck in 2005, it moved forward, with a smile on its face, just like its inhabitants. People from New Orleans were so strong that not even a hurricane could diminish their spirits. The jazz kept on playing.

A typical jazz ensemble

Jackson Square in the French Quarter

The backyard of an old plantation estate

Korea: Very Seduc-tea-ve

If you didn't already know, I have a severe inability to talk to girls I like. In fact, when I like someone, I tend to avoid them like the plague. My trip to Korea was the first time I didn't do this, but it didn't help that I was in a foreign land and that the girl I spoke to didn't really speak English. But we had something in common: tea.

For background, I was selected to be on United States Team for the World Martial Arts Festival in Chungju, South Korea. I was excited for a trip abroad and the chance to be exposed to different cultures and martial arts. I would also be able to how off my Kwon Do skills and introduce the world to the "American Martial Art." Contrary to the opinion of the NRA supporters, the first American Martial Art was Tomahawk throwing, not shooting. So I prepared for the festival by practicing my Tae Kwon Do and tomahawk throwing skills. I donned the attire of a Western Cowboy while we were lucky to have had real Native Americans on my team who wore the traditional clothing of Indians. These guys, although they were much older than me, became some of my best friends.

After an exhausting 18 hour flight and three-hour drive, we were in Chungju: a beautiful town in the foothills of these beautiful green mountains and a pristine blue river. The next day was our orientation day and it gave us the chance to prepare our area and roam around the grounds of the festival. As we walked, I noticed a tent which seemed to be setup for the performance of a darye, or traditional Korean tea ceremony, manned by a not-unattractive girl. In essence, the tea ceremony a way to enjoy tea in a relaxed manner that almost feels forced, hence the formality. It is still performed to this day, perhaps to encourage Koreans to take time and indulge in something simple in their modern, hectic life. I was interested and asked my master instructor if I could go. His response was: "Only if you get her number."

Now, I have nothing but respect for my master, but all of a sudden, the tea ceremony didn't look quite as appealing. I asked him to come with me, and he reluctantly agreed. As we approached the table, I got that cold and jittery feeling one gets when they have to ask a girl to slow dance in middle school. I felt awkward and I looked ridiculous, dressed in my leather boots, cowboy hat, and belt with a big silver buckle. Needless to say, I was nervous. I sat down, and my master, who is Korean, said a few words to the girl while pointing at me, which apparently made her giggle. Then, out of nowhere, he got up and left Now, I was mortified! She couldn't speak English, I had no knowledge of Korean, so I did the only thing I knew how to do, I started the tea ceremony.

Trying to remember the youtube videos I watched, I mimicked the motions the girl made, and she seemed to be impressed! I enjoyed the tea and thanked her for it, but not before something weird happened: she handed me a slip of paper with her number written on it, in English numerals! Having no idea what to do, I just walked away

For anyone curious, I never spoke to her, but I did meet her a few more times. We just walked around together and on the last day I saw her, I got a little peck on the cheek.  It was nothing much, but it made me realize one thing: people don't need to know a language to make friends. I made friends with people from all seven continents not because I could speak lots of languages, but because we were all interested in the same thing: martial arts. I made friends with this girl because we bonded together over tea. All that's required to make a connection with someone is a common interest.

A typical Tae Kwon Do Dojang

The tallest Buddha statue in Asia

A Buddhist monastery near Chungju, South Korea