That being said, I went to Seoul by myself last weekend, mainly for the purpose of seeing THE Rubber Duck. If you're not familiar with the Rubber Duck: it's simply the largest yellow rubber duck in the world. That's all there is to it. Created by Dutch artist Florentijn Hofman, it travels the globe, visiting numerous cities and bringing peace and love and attracting millions of curious people wherever it goes. The Rubber Duck has been in Seoul since October, and this past weekend was the last chance to see it before it leaves for parts unknown (Hong Kong). Originally my girlfriend and I had planned to visit it together, but since she's still recovering from her injury she gave me her blessing to go and get photos for the both of us.
Stumbling through the throngs of people to get to the duck was a pain. It used to be that I enjoyed the energy of the city and fed off the electricity of the crowds, but this time I caught myself longing for the humble simplicity of my one horse town (just kidding. My town is so small we don't even have a horse). I'm not sure what caused this shift in my attitude, but I don't particularly mind. I still love to travel and explore, it's just that now I like to do those things in a more sedate atmosphere.
Regardless, when I eventually did find the duck it took my breath away. It was majestic to behold. I realize that's a silly thing to say about a giant yellow rubber duck, however if you ever get the chance to see it I highly recommend you do. The duck was so calm-looking, despite the hundreds of people surrounding it and giving it aggressive attention. It was as if the duck had achieved a perfect zen-like state of being.
Now that I write all this out, it occurs to me that maybe what I need is to be more like the duck. It wasn't bothered by the circumstances of it's surroundings. It simply was. Sitting in Seokchon Lake in the shadow of Lotte Tower, the center of attraction to a crowd large enough to make a K-pop idol blush, the Rubber Duck continued to smile, an arbiter of tranquility in the eye of a storm.
And now that I write all that out, it occurs to me that I'm attempting to personify a rubber duck. Haha... Maybe I'm more afflicted by cabin fever than I first thought.
Stumbling through the throngs of people to get to the duck was a pain. It used to be that I enjoyed the energy of the city and fed off the electricity of the crowds, but this time I caught myself longing for the humble simplicity of my one horse town (just kidding. My town is so small we don't even have a horse). I'm not sure what caused this shift in my attitude, but I don't particularly mind. I still love to travel and explore, it's just that now I like to do those things in a more sedate atmosphere.
Regardless, when I eventually did find the duck it took my breath away. It was majestic to behold. I realize that's a silly thing to say about a giant yellow rubber duck, however if you ever get the chance to see it I highly recommend you do. The duck was so calm-looking, despite the hundreds of people surrounding it and giving it aggressive attention. It was as if the duck had achieved a perfect zen-like state of being.
Now that I write all this out, it occurs to me that maybe what I need is to be more like the duck. It wasn't bothered by the circumstances of it's surroundings. It simply was. Sitting in Seokchon Lake in the shadow of Lotte Tower, the center of attraction to a crowd large enough to make a K-pop idol blush, the Rubber Duck continued to smile, an arbiter of tranquility in the eye of a storm.
And now that I write all that out, it occurs to me that I'm attempting to personify a rubber duck. Haha... Maybe I'm more afflicted by cabin fever than I first thought.
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