Before I sign off for the day, I wanted to wish everyone a very Happy Saint Patrick's Day. Saint Patrick's the guy who, according to legend, drove the snakes out of Ireland. Pretty cool. I'm guessing all those snakes ended up in East Asia, where eager villagers caught them, bottled them in some foul alcohol, then marketed the resultant potable as a penis-enhancing elixir.
So-- on this day, everyone is Irish, which I suppose means all the men share the pain of the Irish Curse (look it up; there are many Irish curses, but only one Irish Curse). It also means all the women have to be firey-tempered, high-maintenance, and freckle-y.
I'm part Irish. On my father's side, of course. A couple generations up, we've got some relatives with the surname Travers. I didn't wear any green today. Instead, I wore some black pants, a white tee shirt, and a black coat, then I did the Namsan hike again. I might just have to make this a routine. The hike, I mean; not the clothes.
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