Caption of Ji-won Kim
Hey there! You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had…
So, bright and early this morning, I found myself at Namsan Park for a Tai Chi session. Honestly, it felt like swimming through air, if that makes any sense. There was this perfect harmony; the kind you feel only in those moments where your body moves so fluidly that it seems like nothing could ever go wrong. And as I glided between movements, I found myself thinking about those mornings in Busan, where the ocean kisses the shore with less mystery and more certainty.
Oh, and you’ll be thrilled to know there was this exact moment during the session when a leaf drifted straight into my face! 😂 Let’s just say my “serenity” was momentarily challenged by that rogue piece of foliage. I couldn’t help but laugh, and it made me realize just how much I treasure these simple, spontaneous encounters with nature. It’s as if Mother Nature has this cheeky side, you know?
After channeling my inner zen master, I took myself to the National Museum of Korea for the geology exhibit. Walking among these ancient rocks was oddly comforting, connecting bits of Earth’s history to my own story. There’s something profound about noticing how even rocks undergo such transformation, similar to my entrepreneurial escapades — definitely not something I expected to ponder on a Tuesday!
I must mention, wandering through those aisles filled with amethysts and obsidians sparked memories of my uncle narrating his geology adventures. You’d have loved the look on my face; utter fascination mixed with a dash of nostalgia. And then, in a rather serendipitous moment, a museum guide shared an interesting tidbit about volcanic formations — it seemed unexpectedly poignant, almost like that guide knew my brain was churning through metaphors!
And before I veer completely into philosophy — which, let’s be real, I could talk about for hours — I have to remind myself to keep things grounded. The rest of the evening holds an architectural lecture at Korea University which I am absolutely pumped for. Haruto’s joining, and he seems just as intrigued about how urban design and culinary arts intertwine. It’s in these sessions where the innovative vibe just escalates. Speaking of which, any chance you’d be eager to join the next one? I’d love for our brainstorming to stretch beyond the confines of WhatsApp chats.
It’s a bit reminiscent of old college days, where we’d dig over endless cups of coffee and ideas flowed freely without the constraints of deadlines. Oh, remember that one marathon brainstorming session about—wait, am I going off-topic again?
Anyway, with Haruto in tow, and maybe after some good coffee, who knows what ideas might bubble up!
you’ll love this. During the geology exhibit, I found myself in one of those oddly serene moments of reflection. You know, when everything around you just seems to speak directly to your soul? There I was, staring at these rocks, feeling like they were whispering stories only I could hear. Sound strange? Maybe. But it was one of those moments where I felt utterly connected to everything—like, expansively so.
It’s funny, right? Being surrounded by pieces of Earth’s history, and suddenly, you’re drawn into this deep existential space. And then—get this—a young couple standing nearby were genuinely discussing how they’d like to apply principles from geological transformation to their relationship. Can you imagine the metaphors they’re working with? It had me chuckling and nodding internally in agreement, thinking how in entrepreneurship too, every piece of pressure and change is just another form of transformation.
Speaking of transformations, the day just kept unraveling in the most curious of ways. At the architectural lecture with Haruto, the energy in the room was electric. A total testament to how much everyone cared about urban innovation and sustainability. It was thrilling, really, seeing so many like-minded folks actively wanting to merge modern design with cultural legacy. Haruto, bless him, was the embodiment of curiosity. He nudged me at one of those slides showcasing terrace farming in urban spaces and mumbled how culinary and urban design are like salt and pepper, perfectly enhancing our sprawling cities’ flavors.
The speaker’s thoughts had me nodding like a bobblehead at every insight. And I found myself filling up my tablet with notes and sketches like a kid furiously copying homework the morning it’s due. There was a part of the lecture where the speaker discussed how innovation isn’t just about inventing—it’s about integrating; taking the old, bending it, shaping it into something new, like forming a rock into a gem. And I thought, yeah, that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do with the expansions in Tokyo.
I even felt tempted to blurt out some ideas that started brewing during the presentation, but I held back for the post-lecture chatter. I wanted to see if others were thinking along the same lines. You know how it is, you throw a thought out there, and before you know it, it’s like dropping a stone in a pond and watching the ripples spread out wide.
Oh, and Haruto threw a clever comment out there about how urban design prides itself on being open. It got me thinking about tonight’s group chat—we really do mirror our conversations like those interconnected city systems, constantly moving, expanding, welcoming new ideas. It makes navigating these thought networks such an intriguing ride, doesn’t it?
At the architectural lecture, there was a section showcasing this concept of integrating green spaces into urban high-rises, forming something they cheekily called “sky gardens,” and my imagination just soared! I was visually mapping out spaces with lusciously green balconies amidst concrete landscapes. And honestly, my mind wandered back to Jeju’s clean-cut rocky edges and, intriguingly, how that raw natural beauty translates to urban settings.
While I was daydreaming, Haruto leaned over and said, “Wouldn’t it be fantastic to have pop-up outdoor sushi stalls amidst these sky gardens? Just imagine—enjoying a fine sashimi platter with the cityscape as your backdrop,” and I couldn’t help but think of the fusion of tech with culinary artistry in such spaces. Like, activating an app and ordering the freshest catch above the hustle and bustle below; sounds like an experience worth building towards, right?
The whole talk was dotted with insights about preserving both our technological advancements and the ecosystem. The balance struck such a chord with me that I delved into how this mirrors our startup goals—creating symbiosis between human progress and nature’s resilience. It’s like finding that sweet spot as a chess move which doesn’t promise only a tactical edge but ensures long-term strategic gains.
Afterwards, Haruto and I stepped out, and the smell of the late afternoon rain was thick in the air, punctuating our conversation further. There’s something about reflecting post-lecture that exudes a comforting familiarity, reminiscent of those reflective walks back at Stanford campus. We bounced around more ideas about culinary tech culture, each more innovative than the last. Haruto even jested about creating an eco-friendly sushi train that circulates around these green buildings. Now, wouldn’t that be something?
And even amidst all this tech-talk, there was a more human element to it all. I couldn’t shake off an interaction I had with an older gentleman at the lecture. He was animatedly discussing his days as an urban planner and how every level of a building could cultivate community. It was one of those teach-you-about-life situations, you know? Gentle wisdom, hints of nostalgia, and a dash of Olympian cheer. Made me realize how connective tissue runs through both our professions, spanning innovation and heritage.
Oh, and there’s another thought itching at the back of my mind. How about hosting a hybrid-event in one of these sky gardens? We gather minds from both the tech and culinary world, infuse insights into creations, while surrounded by verdant heights. I can’t think of a better backdrop for sparking off ideas! We’d call it—Ah, I’ll leave the naming to you when we brainstorm next.
Now, before I drift off into more architectural daydreams, you ever get the feeling that days like this, composed of deep conversations and momentary inspirations, stay with you awhile? It feels like uncovering layers of the mundane, boldly forging connections between what we learn and dream into actionable realities. But I suppose living in that intellectual whirlpool is why we do what we do, right? But I suppose my musings are diverging from the topic. I’ll leave the rest to our next chat where we can dive deeper into these threads of thought.
Can’t wait to catch up again soon—speak later!
