Seoul on Ice

King Sejong the Great (foreground). Baegangmaru Summit (possibly) in the background.

Greetings from frigid Seoul, South Korea.  This is only the first stop in an extremely-desperately needed, once-postponed, two-week vacation.  And it will be a brief stop.  Three days.  Two nights.

The vacation flight left Las Vegas at 10:50 p.m. on Tuesday, January 28, and arrived in Seoul-Incheon at around 5:00 a.m. on Thursday, January 30, because of the crossing of the international date line. Which means I will never experience Wednesday, January 29, 2025, ever in my life.  It also means that the Republic of Korea is in the books as my 42nd country visited ever.

I am staying in the rather new Hotel Prima in the historic Jongno neighborhood.

The room may be small but I can't say enough great things about this hotel. They let me borrow an electrical adapter, since I did not buy one pre-trip for the unique South Korean electrical plugs. More importantly -- much more importantly -- despite arriving at the hotel at around 7:00 a.m., they let me check in and access my room at that hour.  That is an extremely early check-in.

This is the neighborhood around the hotel.  So the historic neighborhood doesn't look all that historic.

But a few long blocks away and it gets historic.

Meet King Sejong The Great. With an ancient astronomical device in the foreground.  This is Gwanghwamun Square. Known for its historic statues.

This, one, however, I don't think counts as "historic".

It kind of looks like that Arby's mitt that they used in advertising several years ago when, for some reason, even though the words "roast beef" were right in the name -- Arby's -- R B -- get it? -- they decided to pass themselves off as a sandwich chain. So maybe it's an homage to failed advertising history.

But there is more legitimately historic statuary:

Admiral Yi Sun-sin.

He did something historic. Probably involving ships. Seeing as he was an admiral.

He is a popular photo taking stop.

No tourist can resist the photogenic charm of Admiral Yi Sun-sin.

Not even a tourist who already has the full vacation beard thing going on day one of the vacation. 

Did I mention it was cold in Seoul? It was 19 degrees Fahrenheit when the plane landed. Not that I'm complaining!  Weather.com said it would be 12, so 19 is veritable heat wave.

With this weather, it's no shock that the Christmas decorations are still up.

My bones were starting to freeze through to the marrow, so I opted to partake in a Korean tradition: the jjimjilbang.

This is a street on the walk over to one.

After soaking in the hot water to thaw myself out, it was time for a treat. A cruffle!

I'm guessing that, like the cro-nut, a croissant-donut hybrid, or the cruffin that they serve at Carl's Donuts, which is a croissant-muffin hybrid, I am guessing this is supposed to be a croissant-waffle hybrid.

I wasn't picking up any waffle vibes.  But the thing was absolutely covered in cinnamon sugar that did not fall off with each bite.  It was awesome.  I don't even care that it is much more "waffle" than croissant. Washed it down with a latte because of course I needed caffeine after the overnight flight.

Then it was off to Gyeongbokgung Palace.

This is where the emperor lived back when Korea had an emperor, which was back before it was conquered by Imperial Japan following the Sino-Japanese and the Russo-Japanese wars.

This is winter, of course. And it is frigid cold. But I wasn't seeing many tourists. I was starting to wonder where they were.

I found out: Gyeongbokgung Palace!

And here's the reason why it was so packed:

Well, that would've made me come here if I'd only known. Although that makes no sense, given that I did come and did not know. But it was a very nice surprise.

Apparently it was free for the Lunar New Year celebrations and this is the last day of gratis pricing. Glad I didn't wait another day!

I get the feeling that this is sort of the "Forbidden City" of Seoul, South Korea. I could be wrong. But I also get the feeling that, for Koreans, Chinese analogies are not nearly as offensive as Japanese ones would be.

It just keeps going on and on. You keep walking and there are more and more structures.

This is as deep into Gyeongbukgung as I got.

I'm guessing it's religious. But that's a guess.

I never did learn why so many people -- young people especially -- were dressed in costumes, especially the "southern belle" skirts.

Time to leave Gyeongbokgung for the day's final stop.

This is the National Museum of Contemporary Korean History.

Subtitled: Why we hate the Japanese so much.

A significant percentage of the historical exhibits were dedicated to Japanese atrocities which started with the Japanese occupation in the end years of the 19th Century and concluded with the dropping of the A-bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Even the exhibits on the rise of communism, the Korean War, and the dictatorships in the Republic of Korea from 1950 through the late 1980s, were not presented with the same degree of passion as the Japanese atrocities.

But there was this awesome view of Gyeongbokgung Palace:

And there was a salute to the creation of the Korean automotive industry.  This is the first car sold that was built in Korea: the Hyundai Pony.

It's not shocking that just about every car you see being driven on the streets of Seoul is either a Hyundai or Kia.  Nothing Japanese (see previous discussion on Japanese animosity in Korea) or American or Chinese. Although I did see one Infiniti and one Tesla.  Other than that: all Hyundai and Kia.

And let's end with this Gwanghwamun Square:

I think calling those inflatables "historic" would be less than accurate.  Day 1 in Country 42 is in the books.

Reflecting on Norm's Last Day

I told the best of the Norm stories I knew and then I just sort of stopped.  The stories were random, but I never reached the conclusion.  I realized that I did not tell the story of his final day. I want everyone to know that his last day was a good day.

The first sign that something was wrong was back in May.  I returned from vacation.  He had a lot of pent up energy.  I let him pick his walk route.  He generally liked variety in his walks.  Many times on the walks, we would pause at an intersection and I'd ask him: "Which way do you want to go?"  And I could see him thinking for a few seconds.  I'm serious.  He would consider his options.  Many times this would happen at the intersection of Windmill and Spencer.  I'd ask him the question and, after thinking it over, he would choose a route and not always the same route every time.

That evening in May, he wanted to go for a long walk.  When he was in better shape, we walked what I used to call "around the block," which is a square with each side one-half mile, making it a two-mile walk.  At the point where we were the maximum distance from home, Norm collapsed.  It was scary.  His breathing got really shallow.  I knew there was zero chance he could walk the mile home, so I called a friend for a ride home.  The friend brought towels, which we could use as a stretcher, and loaded him in the car.

We got back to my house.  I carried him into the house.  At first, he still was breathing very shallow.  I laid him on the sofa and, after about 30 seconds or a minute, his breathing became wheezing.  I took this as a good sign.  He was working hard to get oxygen in his lungs.  I later took him to the vet and the recommendation was what I expected: no more long walks.  His days of walking for three miles or for an hour and half were over.

Norm adjusted to the shorter walks.  And the short walks were short.  They were standard dog-walk length.  Usually only 15 or 20 minutes, although the evening walks in the park were usually over an hour because he could stop and rest in the cool rest a few times each trip.

Looking back, in early September, it is clear now that Norm was going into his final days.  He as eating very well, which is something the dying do, although his water consumption seemed to be normal.

On the morning of September 7, we walked the neighborhood with two of his best friends:  Mia the pit bull and Boomer the white lab.  Actually, it was five of Norm's best friends, including the people walking with us.  He only the stamina for one trip through the neighborhood, but, at one point, when Boomer went over to one of the neighbors to get fussed on, Norm turned around and ran to greet the neighbor.

That evening, we went to Desert Bloom Park.  Norm loved Desert Bloom.  We ran into his friend October, a black pug, and walked with her awhile.  I thought he was ready to go home, but when he got to the car, he wanted to walk some more.  It was the park and he could rest, so I gave in.  He ran -- literally "ran" -- very enthusiastically -- to greet an Indian couple he loved.  And then we started walking back to the car.

I could tell something was very wrong.  He was vomiting up foam with every step, After the incident in May, I pulled him hard to get back to the car, thinking I just needed to get him home into the air conditioning.  I got him into the car.  Strangely, instead of just laying down on the back seat, like he always did -- Norm had excellent car manners -- he stood up and stuck his front half in between the two front seats.  I could pet him continuously on the short drive home.

When we got home, I could not get Norm to exit the car.  He just stayed there wedged between the two front seats.  I finally got him in the house and he immediately wanted to be let out into the backyard.  So I did.  He laid down in the rocks -- no big deal as he used to do that all the time when he was younger -- but when he tried to get up, he couldn't.  Again, thinking I just needed to get him into the a/c, I carried him in and laid him down on the tile.

His breathing was shallow.  It was getting shallower.  And then he was gone.

He was in no pain throughout whole process.  He spared me the very tough decision of having to decide if "now" was the time.  He spared me the guilt of second guessing:  did I do it too soon or did I wait too long.  He went out when he was ready to go.  And he went out after a great day when he had fun seeing his friends.

Norm left this world on his own terms.

Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Music Appreciation (or Lack Thereof)

One of the reasons I believe that Norm was always so relaxed and happy is that we had a routine and we stuck with it. Morning walk. Breakfast. Leave for work. Come home for lunch and let Norm out for his mid-day sun bath. Come home in the evening. Supper. Evening walk. Wind down.

We also had a weekly routine. Sunday we would go to the park to hang out with his friends, then come home and do laundry. Well, that last item in the routine was for me only. Sunday, being a relaxing day even with the laundry-doing, was also my "music listening" day when I would play my favorite CD's. There were only two CD's that caused Norm to want to get out of the house and into the safety of the backyard, which was the same reaction he had whenever the vacuum cleaner got turned on.

So what were the two CD's that Norm did not like?

The first might surprise you. "Chicago Transit Authority." The debut LP from Chicago, back when they were a brassy jazz rock group. Norm was OK with "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is" and "Questions 67 and 68." But deeper into the CD were a few very dissonant tracks (or discordant) (whichever you prefer), such as "Free Form Guitar" and "South California Purples" that Norm did not find pleasing.

What was the other CD? My "best of" for Yoko Ono. Norm would head for the door within seconds of Yoko being put into the CD player. He was not a fan. No. Please note that this is not one of the posts for the "what an intelligent dog Norm was" file.

Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Wrestling

Playtime for Norm with one of his (many) girlfriends.

As Norm got older -- and this was really clear by the time he was on senior food -- Norm rarely played with male dogs. When he was younger, he loved to wrestle intensely with other males. One of his best friends when he was younger was a 130-pound Anatolian Shepherd named Trigger. Trigger lived a few blocks away and was always extremely happy to see Norm. I think it's because Norm was one of the few dogs who loved playing with a dog as big as Trigger. He outweighed Norm 2:1, but when they wrestled, it was a fair fight! Both were completely exhausted and it was a struggle to get Norm home after one of their wrestling sessions. He left it all in Trigger's front yard! He had nothing left in him.

Sadly, Trigger being older, got very stiff in the joints and could no longer wrestle. A year or two after that, Trigger passed away. And then, soon after that, Norm, getting older, focused his wrestling on his girlfriends. Younger girlfriends. Much younger girlfriends. Stella, for example, who also was a pit/husky mix and who was many years younger than Norm.

Norm continued with his wrestling ways right up to the end. In the last few months, he could only do one wrestling move or two before he was worn out. But he still loved wrestling. Especially with the ladies.

Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Timekeeping

Back to the Norm stories.

I was thinking about all the other stories about life with Norm that are worth mentioning. I then realized that some of the most interesting things about Norm involved everyday life. This is an example of something that always made me wonder exactly how much of my everyday conversation he understood. If I got home in the evening before suppertime, and it was not quite suppertime. Or if I was sitting around at home and Norm thought it was time for the evening walk and I thought we should wait a bit for the Las Vegas heat to cool down. Norm would come over to where I was sitting, tail wagging, a big ol' smile and an enthusiastic look. He never would bark when he did this. Sometimes it would be close enough to the scheduled time that I would feed him or harness him up for his walk a little ahead of schedule.

But, sometimes, often, I said "It's too early. 15 minutes." Usually I would flash 10 fingers and another five. To signify "15." Think Norm didn't understand the concept of 15 minutes? Norm then would immediately walk away, tail no longer wagging. Many times -- way too many times to be a coincidence -- in fact, you could even say this happened "usually" -- he would come back, smiling, tail wagging after about 12 or 13 minutes later. Never sooner than that. Never. (Well, maybe there were a couple of times in 13 years he came back after five minutes, but only a couple.) I will concede that his timekeeping was not perfect. I will grant you that. He was off by a minute or three. But considering that he didn't wear a watch or carry a cellphone, I would call his timekeeping was impressive.

Yet another example of what I've said many times before. Norm was scary smart.

The Shrine to Norm

Hopefully this isn't too weird or maudlin for the people who aren't dog-obsessed, but ...

I got Norm's cremains back today. Norm is the first of my animals whose remains I've got, but, given Norm's personality, he deserves to be a category of his own. So, up on the mantle, I've made a little shrine to the Best Dog Ever(TM). From left to right: (1) Norm's collar; (2) the vial of Norm's fur, which I didn't ask for since his bristles are burrowed so deeply into the carpet and upholstery I will be living with Norm fur for the rest of my days; (3) the wooden box that is Norm's final resting place, along with (4) the metal hanging ornament that my neighbor Teresa made in his memory which is in the shape of Norm -- it even has a green collar like the one Norm wore (see #1); (5) the purple flower that the vet's office sent back with the cremains; (6) a card that my friend Stan many years ago that has a great picture of a younger Norm on it; and (7) Norm's favorite nylabone which is the one toy I did not toss.

If it seems like I'm being obsessive, it's because I am.

More Norm pictures and stories coming up.

Norm Stories: The Exciting Conclusion To "Norm The Landscape Architect"

And, now, for the exciting conclusion of our episode of Life With Norm: Norm The Landscape Architect.

So what happens when one of Norm's rawhide chip burial spots is discovered right after Norm has completed his burying and his meticulous landscape work to hide the hiding place? This happened during the year that Daniil the German Student was living here. Norm had been given a rawhide chip that, according to his specifications, then required an immediate burial. He raced out the door into the backyard, ran to the side of the house, and buried it there, under one of the side windows. Unbeknownst to Norm, the window was the window for Daniil's bedroom. And Daniil was in his bedroom. Watching Norm during his burying and landscape work.

When Norm finished smoothing out the rocks so the burial spot would avoid the detection of anyone except those with a hound dog nose, Norm looked up. And with a look of shock and horror, he saw Daniil standing at the window. Looking back at him.

Daniil came out of his room to tell me what just had happened. Norm had come back into the house and I closed the door behind him. But then Norm started pacing around the family room, very nervously. After a few seconds -- which in Norm years probably felt like a 1000 years -- I opened up the back door and Norm ran out, around to the side of the house. I don't know for certain what happened, but Daniil and I could the sound of rocks moving around. I told Daniil: "You are not going outside to see where Norm is re-burying his rawhide." Daniil, no fool, absolutely agreed: "No. Of course not."

I caught a quick glimpse of Norm being active in the back corner of the backyard, but it was a quick glimpse. After hearing Norm root around in the rocks at the back wall, he came back inside. His snout was filthy. But he was relaxed and happy.

Mission accomplished.

Norm Stories: Norm The Landscape Architect

This is the story of a landscape architect. Named Norm. Norm The Dog.

In his younger days, Norm loved those rawhide chips. But he only liked the ones that were thin and crispy. When I would give him one of the noticeably thick ones, he wouldn't chew on it. He would carry it out into the backyard and bury it. Many times, months, even years later, he would dig up one of these extra-thick rawhide chips that had sufficiently fermented under the ground, bring the dirty stinking chip in the house and then, after it had been properly aged, chew on it for awhile.

Norm was meticulous about how he buried his rawhide chips. He did not simply dig up the rocks in the backyard, plop the rawhide in a hole he dig and re-bury it. No. Not Norm. After he re-buried it, he would use his snout to smooth out the rocks completely so that you absolutely could not tell where it was that he buried it. It was as if the rocks had not been disturbed at all. There was no sign that anything was buried underneath. No lump, no careless scattering of rocks. Absolutely perfectly meticulous levelling of the rocks that were concealing his buried treasure.

He even did this with rawhide chips he buried in the cactus garden to the side of the patio. I do not know how he could dig holes next to spiny, needly cacti -- and then smooth the rocks out afterward -- and not get a snoot full of cactus needles. But he did.

So what happened when he was once caught burying a rawhide chip in the backyard? That's the cliffhanger ending for a story that will be continued tomorrow.

Norm Stories: The One Food That Norm Would Not Eat

Norm loved food.

Norm was not a dog who you would call a "picky" eater. He always found something to eat on the streets on our morning and evening walks. (Hipsters love "street food," which I guess makes Norm an original hipster.) Especially during the darker months of the year, when the morning and the evening walks could be in the dark, Norm would be sniffing in the bushes and, all of the sudden, I hear him crunching on something. Chicken bones, especially chicken wing bones, were always welcome (although less prevalent after the KFC on Windmill closed). He found hundreds of chicken wing bones on the sidewalks and road gutters over the years. It's like there were people driving along, eating chicken as they drove, tossing the bones out the windows as they toddled down the road.

Norm would find week-old burritos in the gutter on the roadside. Or week-old French fries. Even greasy Taco Bell wrappers could be within his grasp. He once swallowed a large chunk of deli ham that was in a plastic bag on one walk, swallowing it quickly so I couldn't pull it out of his mouth. (He threw up the plastic bag a couple of days later with the ham still inside. To Norm's credit, he didn't try to eat that ham a second time.)

Up until his last week or so, Norm had only once previously not finished his breakfast before supper time. And there were probably only a few times before that that breakfast was not gobbled immediately. Supper was always devoured immediately.

Norm absolutely loved all food. Except one thing. There was one food item I gave Norm to eat that he absolutely refused to eat it. Brie cheese.

And Norm loved cheese. He even loved moldy cheese. When I had cheese in refrigerator and got that white dusty mold on it, I would cut that section off and feed it to Norm. Yum. Yum. So brie, being a moldy cheese, should have right in his culinary wheelhouse. If you thought that, you would've been wrong.

I once bought a small segment of Brie that was on sale cheap at the grocery store. Norm, as he would do, begged for some of it. So I cut off a bit and gave it to him to eat. I paid no attention, but a minute or so later, I saw the piece of Brie on the family room floor, a few feet from Norm. So I picked it up and gave it to him.

It would not be accurate to say he spit it out. That's not quite what happened. He had his snout up a bit. It looked like the brie, once it was touching his "lips" -- the outer skin around his mouth -- I know dogs do not "technically" have lips -- but once the brie was touching Norm's lip-equivalents, it's as if the brie cheese itself jumped off Norm's lips, leaping several feet away. All with no apparent effort from Norm to propel the unwanted cheese away from his mouth.

So, yes, there was one food that Norm would not eat.

Norm Stories: Norm's One Escape Attempt From His Own Backyard

In his younger years, Norm used to love to lay out in the rocks in the backyard for his afternoon sunbath. As he got older, he shifted to the flat concrete of the patio.

And speaking of Norm in the backyard, today's story is the story of the one time that Norm escaped from his own backyard. You would think given Norm's history, he would have had far more escape attempts here. He was constantly getting out of the backyard (by shimmying up the gate and jumping down) in the four months he was with his prior owner. And he was constantly jumping fences at Camp Bow Wow and, after he was kicked out of there, he would climb chain link fences at other boarding/doggie daycare facilities. Except for the part of A-VIP where they had nine-foot tall chain link fences in one enclosure. Nine feet was high enough that he didn't even attempt a climb when exiled to that section for the motivated and committed escapers.

How he managed his escape from his own backyard was ingenious. It was a Sunday morning. Spring time. Warm but pleasant. I was comfortable leaving the back door from the house open into the backyard since it was cool enough that the a/c was not running continually. Norm was quiet so the fact that I heard nothing meant nothing. Or so I thought. After he was out there for 20 minutes or so, I went out to check on him. No Norm. But the side gate was open. I was going to get some shoes on to go searching for him when the front door bell rang. A neighbor found him a few blocks away, on the other side of the busy street behind my house. She was able to lure him into their car by doing something Norm always found irresistible. She showed him an open car door. In he jumped -- she confirmed it was him by his name on the collar -- and off they went to bring him home.

So how did he escape? Apparently, the last time the bug man was here, he did not close the side gate fully. The gate is old so it can appear to be latched, but the latch is not fully closed. Norm stuck his snout between the vertical rails (or slats, not sure what to call them) on the gate, angled his snout, and pulled backwards. You cannot open this gate by pushing forward. You have to pull backwards. Which Norm did.

How do I know this when I didn't even see him escape? Later that day, he was back at the side gate and I caught him sticking his snout between the rails, angling his snout 45 degrees, and backing up with his snout still between the rails. Only this time I had made sure that the latch on the gate was fully closed and fully locked.

First escape attempt: successful.

Second escape attempt (same day): foiled.