Day: July 25, 2018

July 22, 2018 

I haven’t written for a few weeks. Partly because we spent more time traveling in the last couple of weeks (I will write more about what and where in subsequent posts) but partly because I seem to have lost steam again.  Sometimes it is just hard to put words down. The feelings are intense and unrelenting and they leave no room for reflection or cohesive thought. So then all I can do is wait out this onslaught of emotion and pain.

On July 22 I found myself in Seoul, South Korea. Seoul is one of Asia’s most modern cities. The moment I stepped off the plane I could feel an instant dose of glamour injected into my surroundings. I had boarded the plane in Chengdu, China from a plain looking airport filled with the usual assortment of average dressed masses. In Incheon airport, Seoul things felt shinier all around. Impeccably dressed and perfectly made up skinny women, and dapper men. The cheekbones were impossibly high and the chins were long and shapely. I have heard that Seoul is one of The destinations for getting plastic surgery in the world. Not to discount the effort behind all this glamor, I am sure good looking folks there are products of a combination of things – little bit of plastic surgery (maybe), individual effort to dress up well and the skill to apply makeup perfectly.

Next I noticed a Cancer hospital and a Severance Hospital next to each other – an ironic play on words! I always seem to first notice cancer hospitals in any place these days. It is the lens that colors my world at this point in time.

Seoul is filled with luxury goods stores and modern glass buildings. I am not an avid shopper but I must confess that I needed a bit of that lift in the energy around me. I was there for two days. The weather was humid but cloudy – so got spared the blinding sun. The first day we went with a friend to Gyeongbokgung palace and then to a traditional Hanok place for some authentic Korean food. I forgot to note down the name but this restaurant is near the palace and I have attached a picture of its Korean sign below. Gyeongbokgung palace is painted with muted colors that are earthy versions of colors used in the palaces in China – one whispers, the other shouts. Both are impressive in their own way!

Next was walking around the Dongdaemun design plaza while carefully giving happy families with young kids a wide berth – not that I don’t like kids, I just wanted to spare myself some pain. The building is sculptural and beautiful. The exhibition of design stuff was mildly interesting. Then we headed  over to the Seoul Tower. The views from the top of the Seoul tower were eye-opening. I couldn’t believe how far out Seoul extended in the valleys between the hills overlooking it. My favorite part however was the plaza at the base of the Seoul tower. With its numerous Gingko trees and magnificent views it must be a magical spot in Fall. I asked the lady at the information desk (who spoke excellent English, *what a relief!!*) for the directions to the metro to Gangnam street (Psi was popular some three years ago and Zubin loved to dance to Gangnam Style.)  She was so friendly and grandma-like that I am sure if she had someone to leave the kiosk to, she would have taken me by the arm and personally delivered me to Gangnam. Most of the cab drivers, kiosk owners and other tourism workers in Seoul seemed older.  The people were friendly and courteous. I loved Seoul! If you find yourselves there and are looking for things to do – I would highly recommend:

1. First of all go in Fall if you can. The colors of Gingko trees are likely to sweep you off your feet
2. Gyeongbokgung palace – It is bare around the buildings. So be prepared for searing heat if you venture there in summer
3. Dongdaemun design plaza – Just to see an impressive sculpture of a modern building near ancient palaces
4. Seoul tower – It is not super high but high enough to provide beautiful views
5. Namdaemun market – For little kiosks and open shops selling a wide variety of reasonable quality cheap goods.

 

 

 

July 20, 2018

Last Friday I was in Chengdu, to visit the Panda Bears, or as they are called in Chinese, Xiongmao. Chengdu itself is a midsize city with the usual high rises and a large assortment of construction projects – some in progress and some abandoned. As the cab drove into the city, one of the first things that I noticed was the Sichuan Cancer Research hospital and then next door to it, a children’s hospital. There were other hospitals and buildings there too, I am sure. But my eyes are now first drawn to the hospital buildings that have the words children and cancer in them – two words that have forever altered my life. Not too long ago I was with Zubin in a similar pediatric cancer hospital on the opposite side of the world. There must have been a family on vacation then with their healthy ten year old, who would have driven by the very building where we were in the throes of our life and death drama. Just as before them, I had passed many similar buildings where sick children fought for their lives. I am sure I had hurried past, with averted eyes, confident that such a thing would never happen to us. Have I been called to do penance for all those times when I had been engrossed in my own safe cocoon, refusing to feel the suffering of other unfortunate families? All I can say is that it was not intentional. I just had a different set of problems that I was trying to solve then. Inconsequential problems in hindsight, but deserving of my full urgent attention at the time.

Life is a series of flashbacks of moments. I remember moments when Zubin was with us. And I remember so many moments when he made us laugh. Even in his last awake moments we couldn’t help but smile at his sassy words and incredibly cute gestures.  How do I feel in those moments? Like I can’t breathe. I feel claustrophobic in my own body. Then I find myself returning to the idea of staying in the moment.

Adult Pandas in their solitary lives have mastered the ability to exist in the moment. When they are eating, their attention is focused two hundred percent on the bamboo stalk in their hands. So much that if they feel tired while eating they just flop right there on their dinner table but keep on eating. Eating for survival has a whole new meaning for them. A baby panda weighs on average 100 grams (0.2 pounds) at birth.  By the time he is a year old, he weighs 40 kgs (88 pounds.) He has to eat enough bamboo to put on all that weight in 365 days. Basically they eat, they sleep, and they exist. Looking at their cute gestures and expressions and their simple lives, I felt that at the moment I wouldn’t mind being a Giant Panda. Being human comes at a great price – the ability to think and protest and expect and demand and imagine the countless what-ifs. Aren’t the simplest things the ones that give the most pleasure? The simple act of sticking with a bamboo stalk and enjoying it to the max seems a far better state than to hunger after the next exotic food in order to extract the maximum enjoyment out of life. Leave it to a grief stricken mom to get life lessons from Giant Pandas!

Zubin celebrated his brother’s birthday for the last time by giving him a Giant Panda. We had together spent a long time online looking for the perfect floppy stuffed toy. And this was his present to him. I wish he had been there to see his brother’s face when he saw the real Xiongmao for the first time. And I wish we had Zubin with us to see his cute face watching his brother’s. So many missed moments that I hungrily long for. And yet so many other precious ones to jealously preserve. We missed you so much that day Zubin.