One summer in Busan, I mistakenly wore a short skirt. On my way across town, I got followed through the metro by two separate ajusshis, apparently having thought they'd caught a waft of Russian prostitution. They had been misled by my lily white leggy leggedness, resulting in their confusion and my irritation. I never wore a short skirt in Korea again.
Fast forward to a few years later and I find myself in Russia, irritated by the mere idea of constricting myself to a full day of pants. It turns out that wearing dresses and tights is far more comfortable than any other alternative this side of stark naked. No wonder I was so miserable for much of my time in Korea.
As things have gotten a bit colder here, I've occasionally taken my new found love of not wearing pants a bit far. Given my tendency to overdo everything that I even remotely enjoy, this is expected.
Here are a few examples:
1) When attending a football match in rainy, 5 degree weather, one probably ought to throw something on over their tights. In my defense, I sort of thought that maybe the football would happen inside. However, after attempting to pass that off as a defense in conversation, I have come to realize that this just adds another layer of stupidity to my case.
2) Christmas Day involved much more walking around than I anticipated, most likely because I failed to properly listen to what the plan was. Or check the weather beforehand. So, after walking around Red Square for a while, around the centre for a bit after that, and jumping in a snowbank somewhere in the middle of all that, I was cold. Should have been a bit wiser before dressing myself for the day, as I was cruelly advised.
3) The State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg is absurdly cold in January. The radiators did work, as I learned when I leaned on them in the hopes of warming up, but failed to keep the rooms at an appropriate temperature. I attempted to exit and reenter with my coat, but security doesn't allow you to wear a coat in. In my defense, I was properly dressed for an indoor event, and had no way of knowing beforehand that it could be cold as fuck inside.
The moral of this story is that I have obviously learned nothing from any of these events and will continue to not wear enough clothing (until summer, at which point I will immediately start wearing too much clothing, because somebody has to).
Fast forward to a few years later and I find myself in Russia, irritated by the mere idea of constricting myself to a full day of pants. It turns out that wearing dresses and tights is far more comfortable than any other alternative this side of stark naked. No wonder I was so miserable for much of my time in Korea.
As things have gotten a bit colder here, I've occasionally taken my new found love of not wearing pants a bit far. Given my tendency to overdo everything that I even remotely enjoy, this is expected.
Here are a few examples:
1) When attending a football match in rainy, 5 degree weather, one probably ought to throw something on over their tights. In my defense, I sort of thought that maybe the football would happen inside. However, after attempting to pass that off as a defense in conversation, I have come to realize that this just adds another layer of stupidity to my case.
2) Christmas Day involved much more walking around than I anticipated, most likely because I failed to properly listen to what the plan was. Or check the weather beforehand. So, after walking around Red Square for a while, around the centre for a bit after that, and jumping in a snowbank somewhere in the middle of all that, I was cold. Should have been a bit wiser before dressing myself for the day, as I was cruelly advised.
3) The State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg is absurdly cold in January. The radiators did work, as I learned when I leaned on them in the hopes of warming up, but failed to keep the rooms at an appropriate temperature. I attempted to exit and reenter with my coat, but security doesn't allow you to wear a coat in. In my defense, I was properly dressed for an indoor event, and had no way of knowing beforehand that it could be cold as fuck inside.
The moral of this story is that I have obviously learned nothing from any of these events and will continue to not wear enough clothing (until summer, at which point I will immediately start wearing too much clothing, because somebody has to).
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