The Roundup

With only 9 days until we return to Canada, we've been busy - especially because we booked a final trip to Beijing from this Thursday morning until next Monday, which means that we've only got 5 days or so left in Korea.  Needless to say, we started trying to pawn off our furniture and pack early, and have nearly gutted our apartment of unnecessaries.

This final month of classes started off with a bang, slowed to a crawl mid-month (I might have gotten a little over-eager and made a to-do list too early in the game), and then whizzed to the final few days of work.  I find it hard to believe that Tuesday will be my last day of full-time work in over a year.  The way we've been going out for dinner lately would have you believe that I'm getting a promotion instead of entering a year of graduate school in September.

Jon ran a half-marathon on June 14 - in great time, of course - with Patrick.  I opted out of the race because the previous weeks had replaced workouts with eating out.  I also received a clear sign that I shouldn't run: Keedo ate my race chip.

The past few weekends have been spent with our friends, browsing knick-knack shops in Insa-dong, drinking beer on patios, and cruising around Hongdae, a hotspot for art students and club-goers.  We've finally tried noori-bang (i.e. karaoke rooms); bought lots of little Korean souvenirs; drunk cocktails from a bag on the street; tried out an ice bar; gone drinking with our managers (a must in Korean corporate culture - I kid not); planned the trip to Beijing; and generally just started preparing ourselves for life in Canada.  I welcome any advice on reverse culture shock from those who have also lived abroad for long periods of time.  Gangnam could not be more different from Georgetown or Gads Hill.

We've also started reminiscing a little early about Korea.  We'll miss cheap transportation, having nearly everything we needed close by, inexpensive meals out, being able to drink alcohol on the street, sharing food with everyone at the table, and Korean food, most definitely.  Our job has been enjoyable and the students we teach are, on the whole, pretty interesting.  Most of all, we've met some amazing friends that we'll really miss when we return.

There are, of course, some things we won't miss.  I won't miss having to throw used toilet paper into a smelly, open-top garbage can; the smell of rotting garbage on the street in summer time; air pollution, of course; and the inability to run in my own neighbourhood without dodging cars or hitting a red light.  I hope to never again have to wake up at 5:30am to get ready for work; or stay up really late to make a run-of-the-mill phone call home.

About some other things, I have mixed feelings.  The speed of life here is breakneck, making for an excitingly fast lifestyle that is sometimes impossible to keep up with.  The rabid consumer culture, while repulsively thoughtless at first, is recklessly fun.  About other things, it's just too early to tell.  I guess we'll know 9 days from now.

Why I can't join the <6 sleeping hours club.

Thank goodness it's Saturday.  The end has come to one of those long weeks - the kind that just make you want to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over your head ... even just for an hour.

It started out well enough.  I finished my long run on Monday fully pumped for the half marathon we've got coming up shortly (!) and walked home all happy.  Jon had made pasta for dinner, so I sat down to eat.  Then it started.

My appetite was sapped.  I, a person who really really likes a high-carb dinner, couldn't stomach more than a bite.  Nausea set in.  I curled up on the couch with Keedo, who knew something was wrong, and fell asleep for a few hours.  When I woke up I still wasn't hungry, but the nausea had subsided.  I ate a bland dinner of cereal and granola bars (which I'll eat any time of day), and passed out early - 9:30 or so.

Now, this meant that I got a good night's rest, but also meant that I'd not prepared for class the next day.  I woke up early, showered, and scrambled to work by 6am to google, print, photocopy and grade essays before my 6:40am class started.  The day went on as per usual, and Jon and I met up with some of his former students for a bite to eat after work.  A little bit of dongdongju (ice-cold Korean rice wine) on a weeknight never really hurt anyone, right?  We went home happy and satisfied after hearing some rollicking good stories from Fiona, a robust Korean woman with far too much personality to fit in here.

Out again for a drink (is this really Monday?) to meet Chi-ho, a friend we didn't expect to see after that night because we're leaving in just over a month.  We waited over an hour before we gave up on him and called it a night, jogged across the main street, ignoring a taxi driver motioning for us to stay on the median instead, and back to our flat.

Minus my wallet.

I went back to look for it no more than 20 minutes later, but the whole scene had already changed and the wallet was nowhere to be found.  That's when I realized that the taxi driver was trying to point it out to me, tell me that I'd dropped it.  So much for being able to tune out Seoul's millions ... serves me right.  From then on, for one reason or another, I got only 5 hours of sleep - this, for a girl who obviously needs closer to 7 or 8 to function properly.

On Thursday, I misplaced my glasses.  Friday morning, I thought I lost the gift certificate to Adidas I'd won after the race.  I forgot my cell at home one morning, and Keedo got at it.  Now, when I press 9, or text using 'prs', I get a question mark.  My feet have been soaking wet all week because of a few days of rain (morning until night) and I really just needed a recovery day.

The good news is that nobody used my cards before I cancelled them, but getting replacements will be a royal pain.  I'm bummed that I lost my wallet, a funky purple snakeskin single-fold (i.e. men's wallet) that I don't expect Club Monaco to carry again.  But mostly, I'm just a bit angry at myself for letting a few small things get to me so much.  I guess that's why I need to be babied a little - a full night's sleep for this one or all hell breaks loose.

Note: Since I initially wrote this post about 3 weeks ago, I have lost my cell phone, forgotten my glasses on my bedside table and had them chewed up by Keedo, temporarily misplaced my temporary wallet in the staff room at work, and become a bit of a laughing stock for it all.  I took the cell of a former coworker who left Korea in early June, locked the phone while trying to put it on vibrate and had to lie about ownership to get the cell unlocked.  The list goes on. This has been more than a wake-up call reminding me that I shouldn't go drinking twice on a weeknight and that I have a one of those rare patient and supportive boyfriends.  It has also helped me realize that this culture is just way too damn fast for me to keep up with.  I'm definitely looking forward to slowing down a little back in Canada when I return on July 7.

Adidas Hangang Marathon

First of all, in Korean parlance, a "marathon" isn't what you'd expect.  Rather than completing a gruelling 42.2km in one go, like my friend Brandon, our "marathon" was really a 10k.

But "marathon" sounds so much cooler, doesn't it?

This was a Pagoda-wide event - English teachers and Korean admin - meaning that about 50 or so runners had a silly red PAGODA sticker literally slapped on their front and back.  Piggybacking on a few good runners wasn't the worst idea our employer has ever had.  Hey, if they'll pay for my race fee, I can at least wear it past the starting line ... beyond that, I won't be chasing it down if it flies off my running jacket.

Patrick - who completed a marathon before coming to Korea and who is expecting his first child in November - outran us all that day finishing in under 38 minutes.

Jon finished not much later, under 40 minutes.  He and Patrick breezed past me at the 3km mark because I'd weaseled my way to the front of the 4,000-strong crowd before the starting gun.

I made the lucky mistake of pacing with a Korean man with blue tape on his legs, and finished first out of the women from Pagoda and 13th in the women's category.  My time was 45:49 - which will probably remain my PB for years to come.  I could barely feel my legs running to the finish - note how my stride is far lazier than my running partner's.

Like with the previous Adidas race, we were all provided with healthy fried food and beer after the race.  Exactly what I needed!  Thank you Pagoda!

Photo credits go to a Pagoda photographer and to Maria, who cheered us on past the finish - thank you!  Stay tuned for our next ridiculous running goal - a half marathon on June 14.

Cows are Bigger than Old Volcanoes

I'll try to keep the most recent happenings short and sweet, and start with the most recent off-duty event: a long weekend on Jeju Island, in Korea.

On the ferry to Udo Island, just off the east coast of Jeju-do.  In the background is an expired volcanic mountain, currently a UNESCO heritage site.

Like our January trip to Shanghai, this was another last-minute group trip, 4 days long and under 2 hours away.  I didn't know much about Jeju-do (Jeju Island) before we left.  I knew that it's just off the southern coast of mainland Korea, and that it's a common destination for vacationers and honeymooners.  It also hosted 3 games of the 2002 FIFA World Cup, which has been called a failure because it brought in far fewer tourist dollars than expected.  The 2009 ASEAN conference is currently happening where the World Cup happened years ago.  I also knew that nearly all Korean students I've taught who have been anywhere outside of Seoul, have made their way to Jeju.  Doing this trip would make us ultra-cool with students, which is, of course, why we do everything.

Kidding aside, travelling to Jeju is the Korean equivalent of going up north for the weekend - but in a plane, rather than in a car.  Sidewalks felt empty; taxis were less expensive; locals paid attention to the big foreigner crowd; and the oranges - oh, the oranges! - were fantastic.  Locally-grown stuff I was even allowed to take with me on the plane.  After living in the middle of Seoul for so long, knowing that it takes more than a little while to drive produce from the countryside into Gangnam, I'm tired of throwing out rotting veg only a few days after purchase.  Jeju - oh, Jeju! - actually had farmland for oranges, peanuts and goodness knows what else.  *Sigh* It made me miss being home for a bit.

We arrived at about 10pm on Wednesday night, and after about 10 minutes of looking for a hof (Korean-style pub) with empty seats, Jon, Jay, Richard and I happened upon basement-level screen golf.  Now, I'd never heard of this thing before, but maybe some of you golfers have given it a try during the off-season.  Imagine: a large room dominated by a massive projection screen stretched floor to vaulted ceiling and about 20+ feet wide; a rubber tee mounted on a moving platform to mimic a real course; and a system of lasers and sensors that accurately reflected how terrible our golfing skills are.  Jon aside, of course.

Great fun.  We lasted until about 3am - 4 hours for a foursome to complete 9 holes.  Don't even ask about the score ...

L to R: Jay, Jon and Richard sitting on the fence singing their usual song: "So, where should we go next?"

Day 2: Off to Udo Island.  Thats right - Cow Island.  Only 4km from the mainland, I'm surprised it has its own name, and that those in Seoul know what and where it is.  I was even more surprised after we rented a 4-wheeler and toured around the island.  Many little convenience shops, lots of tour groups of hagimas (middle-aged women noted for wearing visors and having sharp elbows), lots of local peanuts and seaweed snack, and only a handful of small homes.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Udo is the diving women who practice off its southern coast.  If it wasn't for dozens of pairs of legs waving from the sea, we would have missed them. I even initially mistook them for someone flailing their arms in the water, needing help.  We stopped for a few to watch them dive.  I believe these women have turned seaweed picking into an endurance sport.  Sporting retro snorkeling masks and wetsuits, they submerge and resurface hundreds of times per day.  Rumor has it that some are able to stay underwater - unaided by SCUBA gear - for two minutes or more.  Their technique is unusual - their breath sounds as if its come from a whale's spout and they often talk to one another with this bird-like whistle that, Jon told me, apparently helps them improve their lung capacity further.  And I thought these women were just a myth ...

The trip to Udo was ... short, to say the least.  After a few hours, we caught the last ferry back to Jeju along with many day laborers who must have picked peanuts, many in matching pink bonnets and all of them very tiny (some elderly in Korea suffered from malnourishment earlier in their lives).  Then, off to a UNESCO heritage site - an expired volcano.

The rest of the trip was ... food- and drink-oriented.  When David, Yuri, Brian and Joo-Yeon arrived, we ate local Jeju specialties - black pig with hair in the fat; local oranges and orange chocolate; and late-night McDonald's.  Half our party of 8 tried horse, which looked mighty lean next to pork.  I didn't try it.  I wouldn't have been able to withstand the questions from two horsey families upon our return to Canada; nor could I have looked at the beautiful horse paintings this restaurant had mounted on the wall.  Only in Korea will smiling cartoon animals encourage you to eat them...

Let's give this another go ...

It's been too long.

I'll be posting about a few things today or this coming week on:

1) Our trip to SE Asia - Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, then Vietnam again - for those who didn't hear all the details or want a few photos,

2) Our thoughts on Korea after a month away and that good ol' home stretch feeling,

3) Pagoda getting physical on the Hangang (very physical for some, far less physical for the managers),

4) Making, unmaking and remaking decisions for where to live upon our return to Canada,

5) Why this blog promotes Korea better than the Korean government,

6) And all the other little stuff that doesn't fit there; Beano in the oven, daring 5-year-old bikers, and a trip to Korea's tropical (yes, tropical) south.

Until then: HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to Judy, Pauline, Margaret, Alison, Sallianne, Sally and Betty, and Happy PRE-Mother's Day to Maria!

Hello 2009!

Turns out that Christmas was such a hit we were nominated to host New Year's, too!  I immediately promised myself that I would not get too Martha Stewart-y (years of Marilyn Dennis on CityLine after school has taken its expensive, time-consuming toll already).  No new decorations, no new foods (we still had unused food and leftovers from Christmas); only a place to hang out on another day off.

I had to work until 10pm that night, the final day of classes, so Jon took care of the setup.  I had thought that, being New Year's and all, I might have no students show up for class - especially the later ones - and might get to leave early.  I had forgotten that Education is the biggest religion in Korea.  I had full classes during the day, and regular classes until my last class at 8pm.

One student, a young and exceptionally cheery woman named Song (her Korean first name was similar to Seong Yu) arrived in class early and eager to chat with her classmates ... who, it turned out, felt they had better things to do on New Year's Eve than brave the partying crowds to get to a sterile classroom to talk for a few hours.  Uncomfortable as she was being the only student in the class, we went out for a bite to eat nearby (any new setting that gives us something to talk about is always, always welcome).  We filled the two hours by sharing travel, family and relationship stories (the big 3, again, aside from school), and parted ways, she, glad to have finished class and ready for a night out, and me, desperate to get home to friends who had been there for hours, chatting away without the pressure of filling the airtime with (sometimes hollow) questions.

Little did I know that it would be the night of North Korean soju and rounds of drinking games.

This stuff is more potent than the Southern stuff - 6% more potent, in fact, and still much easier to drink than its Russian cousin, Vodka.  And within about an hour and two or three drinking games, it had turned both Richard and David into happy, hatted men.

Richard didn't know his hat was pink for about two hours ... by the time he realized, he had gone outside to smoke about six times and been given strange looks by many Koreans who knew a little more than he did about his topper.

A few more joined us than had at Christmas; Rob Davis from Vancouver and his Korean girlfriend, Cecil (who has offered to teach me Korean), David's girlfriend Yuri, and Richard's soon-to-be-girlfriend, Christina/Hazel (she renamed herself before entering our place, leaving Richard confused for weeks).  All this meant that seating was on the floor with Keedo.

This is, one could say, a 'talking picture'.  Apologies that the photos are not so stellar this time around: better photos are on their way in future posts!

Lucky for a few of the drinkers we know, we got a holiday on New Year's Day.  Then, the real work began - January, I've been told, is the busiest month of the year at The School.  After working two weeks of ten to twelve hour days, I believe it.  More about January to come!

I'm Dreaming of a White ...

Christmas has come and gone.  Apart from our little Christmas party (complete with turkey, ham and mashed) it wasn't much of an event here.  And no, there was no snow on the ground, but we'd had some brief flurries earlier in the week.

Most Koreans get one day off (which meant that's all we got, too) and then come back to work without much fanfare.  It's not even really common to spend time with family on Christmas; rather, it's considered a 'couples holiday'.  

Most unusually, the streets are hopping on Christmas Eve, with every cafe in sight selling sweet potato cakes (they look like birthday cakes, but are less sweet) as fast as they can.  Paris Croissant, our favourite French-style cafe/pastry shop, ignored its usually cool image, and was selling stacks of boxed cakes outside the building, a sales gimmick that I'd consider a desperate measure if it wasn't for the big crowds pushing to buy as fast as possible.  Wild.

We had Keedo opening gifts from Canada (thank you!!!!) with us on the 25th, too!

He got booties to match a coat that had been sent to us earlier on.  This coat is miles more acceptable than the imitation brand goods sold on the street around our place: 'Ralph Lauren' doggy parkas, fuzzy pink cable knit doggy sweaters, 'Burberry' print doggy trench coats, or the worst of all: that I see dogs wearing this stuff.  I couldn't be happier that Keedo's coat is hunter green.  He, of course, is paralyzed whenever it's put on him, and can't walk on our slippery wooden floors with the booties on.  Which he's embarrassed about, of course.  The gear is great for the outdoors, though!

So, on the 25th, we just sat around all day and chatted, lamented that we had only one day off, took a few cheap shots at one another and had a few drinks.  And we killed seven hours doing it.

From left: Maria Kelley, me, Richard King and Jon in our living room.

David Hollinger, left, is from Boston; Richard is from England; Jon at centre, Patrick Kelley (married to Maria) is from Oregon, and Chris Burkhard, who recently left for more ESL training in London, England, grew up in Detroit.

Like good employees, we disbanded at about 9pm, hit they hay shortly thereafter and were at work early the next morning, our Christmas celebrations already behind us. New Years', however, was right around the corner.

Propaganda South of the DPRK

Well, we survived.  We did what so many E-2 visa holders before us have done and travelled with a group of teachers to the demilititarized zone (DMZ) early on the morning of December 20.  A Korean friend rented a van for the seven of us, and drove us to the border a short distance but long time away.  Korea's so small, you see, that highways are not as common as red lights through residential and commercial areas.  The 50-odd kilometer trip took over an hour with a fast driver.

Once we arrived and bought our tickets (less than 10,000 won) we had to kill a bit of time on the South Korean side.  Near the ticket booth and close to a few small souvenir stands - those vendors brave some really cold days! - was the Bridge of Freedom, a bridge built to exchange 12,773 prisoners during the Korean War in 1953 (or so says my little tourist brochure).  At the end of the ROK's side of the bridge was this fence covered with messages to loved ones still in the North.

Predictably, we had to board a tour bus to visit the few sites along the border we were allowed to see.  We were the only big group of Western foreigners, but two tour guides gave information in English (first), in Chinese (second) and in Korean only after each stop's visit was over.

First stop was a military base on the South Korean side of the border, 2km from the country's boundary (part of the agreement the countries signed when creating the DMZ included a 2km retreat from the border).  "You are lucky," our sweet Korean tour guide told us in English.  "It is a clear day today.  It is normally much cloudier."  Although there were inexpensive pay-to-view public binoculars to peer across the border with, it was a foggy day.  I could barely see the big building in the North Korean 'city' across the DMZ that was supposed to represent industry and big business.  "There are 17 factories in this city," our tour guide said.  Even accounting for the fact that the DMZ is a veritable conservation area, I, for one, saw no sign of life.

Admission: this photo has been doctored using the massively sophisticated program iPhoto (note: not a sophisticated program) to try and show you more of the landscape.  I just wish it was also able to show you the beautifully reddish-orange sky to the right of the camera's view.

After taking a few pictures in front of the yellow line (gasp!) drawn on the pavement to mark the photography 'safe zone', we hopped back on the bus to our next stop; a tourist information centre.  Ooooh!

Here, we were ushered through the small information centre filled with billboards of information, maps and 'interactive' sceneries explaining the Zone.  Most interesting to me was a series of four billboards that described four underground tunnels that had been discovered since the 1960s, if memory serves.  The billboards claimed that the tunnels had been dug by North Korean forces before, during or after the war (I can't recall which).  Apparently, the North continues to deny that it was responsible for these tunnels.

After a short, sad video set to loud rock music, we were ushered out of the building and across the parking lot to a souvenir store (not our last, by any means).  Here, we were instructed to put all our belongings in free lockers - cameras in particular - and then proceed down the hallway to pick up a yellow hard hat.

Hard hat?

The hallway led to a long, bouncy ramp down into one of the tunnels that had been discovered by the South.  At the base of the ramp, our guide showed us holes drilled into the granite cave.  About 3cm in diameter and drilled deep into the surface, the holes were drilled upwards at maybe a 30 degree angle.  These were dynamite holes, our guide told us.  Because of the angle at which they were drilled, we know that the North excavated the tunnel, she said.  They also lied about the reason for drilling the tunnel.  Even though the cave was drilled into granite, the North claimed they made the tunnel to excavate coal.  They painted the cave with thick black paint to try and fool the South.  Look, she said, and she wiped thick, wet black stuff from the walls of the cave, revealing sparkling pink granite.

Right.  This, only three days after this BBC news story explaining how the North has accused the South of trying to assassinate Dear Leader.

Sure enough, when we started walking to the end of the tunnel, about 1.3km from the base of the ramp, we noticed that the wet black stuff lined the humid cave right to the end.  Black paint and holes in granite weren't the only reasons we'd walked so far down into this tunnel (remember, we had to walk back up, too).  After ten minutes of ducking steel poles, hitting our hard hatted heads on the pointy granite ceiling and shuffling past incoming visitors who had already been to the end of the tunnel, we reached the end and waited in line for our turn.  It wasn't until I was at the front of the line that I realized what it was I was going to be looking at.

Barbed wire kept me fifteen feet back from the mail slot-sized hole in a plywood wall.  I lunged to the left, into a puddle, to get a better view through the rectangle.  The bright light above me, meant to improve the sight of the permanent security camera behind me, made it difficult to see through to the next wall and beyond it.  There were three walls, and nobody should pass through all three of them to get to the DPRK, we'd been told at the top of the ramp.  South Korean military had used to be stationed between the first and second walls.  But the danger was between the second and third walls, which enclosed a space filled with land mines.  I was 170m from North Korea, hundreds of metres beneath the DMZ.

The eerie feeling lasted only a few seconds, because by then someone else had shuffled in behind me to take their turn.

So we shuffled back to the bright end of the tunnel, a little less carefully this time.  Many head bumps later, we were in bright artificial light and hiking up the steep ramp and onto the bus.  Not before we hit up the souvenir shop, though.  Although I was tempted to get some ginseng jelly candy made in North Korea (ginseng is Korea's national pride - both in the South and the North, as our tour guide would have us believe), Jon had a better idea.

For 4,000 won, about the same price as the watery Southern stuff, this beer was great.  More like Heineken, I think, although I have a hard time believing that North Koreans actually drink the stuff.  Is one allowed to drink beer in a country whose authorities claim that its civilians must consider "adhering to the national grain regulations and preserving army rations as the top priority"?

Onto the next stop: a bathroom and another souvenir shop.  Next?

The train to nowhere.  Opened in 2002 by South Korea's then-President and George W. Bush (there's a picture in the station of Bush holding a pen upside down while signing a rail tie) I don't believe the sation has seen any passengers pass through its doors.  Officially, it is known as the ROK's first stop until it opens for travel to Pyeongyang.  Its grand opening date is unknown, but it has been staffed for years despite the fact that it is almost entirely empty.  An awfully boring place for a poor Korean man doing his mandatory military service to be stationed.  I felt badly for the two soldiers who must guard the unmoving escalator day in and day out.

Then it was back on the bus to warm our frozen toes, to return to our vehicle and to head out of the little town that must depend on tourism until the train station opens for business.  Judging by recent North-South relations, they'll need to man the arcade for a few years yet.

Hiking Gwanaksan

Well, the changing seasons won't let me lie. We hiked this mountain ages ago ... the first weekend in October after The School's fire, actually, when the weather still called for tank tops. It's since gotten much colder, and the tanks have been covered by tshirts, dress shirts and coats. Scarves, too. Korea's long, humid summer was gorgeous (in retrospect) and we celebrated it accordingly: an invigorating walk up a mountain. Now, it wasn't much of a real hike until the mountain became a bit more steep near its top, and the hike itself was rather short, but it was a climax to the weekend in more way than one.

Jon and I went with two coworkers - Jay and Rob - to the mountain at the southern edge of the city, to Gwacheon. By subway. The 40-minute trip included one transfer during which a middle-aged Korean man yelled at myself and Jay (who's proudly Indian-Canadian, Ottawa-based). His comments were in Korean, so we didn't understand a word, but his finger wagging and spitting spoke clearly enough for us to understand. One of the hundred-something Koreans making the same transfer seemed just as surprised as we were to hear such comments. After staring each other down (confusion from our end, anger from the spitter) as we walked down the stairs, we parted ways with the overtly racist Korean man and looked forward to our weekend excercise!

A gorgeous day for a hike - I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

The hike was pretty monotonous until we came across a natural spring and took our first break. We could actually drink from this spring, and ladles had been provided to access the drinking water from a crevice in the rocks.

A little further up, we came upon Gwanaksan's main attraction: a sizeable temple housing hundreds, possibly thousands, of small buddhas. All were painted gold. And if you take a close look at the photo, you can see ingenious use of space: buddhas tucked in at the side of the rafters of the structure.

Although many hikers stopped at this point, we continued to even more spectacular views - Seoul on both sides of the mountain, a tiny temple on a dangerous precipice just shy of the mountain's 625m peak, and (how wonderful) an army base at the peak of the mountain. Beside the ramen noodle vendor and beer-selling drink stand. Ahh, the athletics of our feat!

A generous hiker cutting up an Asian Pear for our foursome ... although our thanks wasn't constrained by the language barrier, we weren't able to strike up a full conversation with her. So we'll pass on her generosity to our students ...

It took us about ... 30 minutes to descend the mountain and a few hours to get back to Gangnam for beer and fried chicken with some of the other teachers. We then went for a session of Dr. Fish ... but I'll save that story for another day. Let's just say that a hungry fish is a useful fish.

Happy (belated) Re-Birthday, Korea!

This post has been on the back burner for a bit too long - Korea's Independence Day actually took place on Friday August 15. Apologies for my tardiness!

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Korea must be one of the few countries where Independence Day is not celebrated with fireworks and parades, with flag-wavers and patriots, or with more drinking than a normal Friday. No, in Korea, Independence Day is simply celebrated in one meaningful way - a statutory holiday during which only the poor retail workers among us have to man the busy shops.

Instead of joining the throngs of shoppers, we celebrated our own day off with a trip to a historical site, Gyeongbokgung, with one of Jon's students, Daeshin. Gyeongbokgung is the main palace of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-August 1910) and its entrance gate, Gwangwhwamun Gate, is to be the departure point for the upcoming Nike Human Race we wanted to join.

We began our little sightseeing trip with a walk down the Cheonggyecheon Stream in the centre of Jongro district, a few minutes' drive north of the Hangan River and the location of Seoul's City Hall. Although initially dredged during the Joseon Dynasty, the area became a shantytown and the stream became polluted. In the 1960s and 70s, the slum was cleared and the stream paved over to make way for an elevated expressway - after all, an emergent economic power couldn't have shanties in the centre of its city now, could it? The pollution that had been invited by this expressway was later cause for the road's destruction, and the Stream was restored in 2005, including a history of the Joseon Dynasty that lines the stream like a miles-long tapestry in tile.

Daeshin and myself in front of a history of the Joseon Dynasty explained on tile.

After passing children swimming in the stream (contrary to a Korean by-law, Daeshin informed us) and a small art exhibition under a bridge (what a creative use of space!), we exited the stream for Gyeongbokgung palace. During the short 20-minute walk to the site, we passed many dozens of caged buses preparing for Seoul's weekly candlelight vigil against Korea's president and his policies on American beef, and hundreds of young Korean police officers sitting on the sidewalk in parallel lines, waiting in the light rain for their cue to enter City Hall Square. We've since seen these same buses in Gangnam, waiting for similar protests to get out of hand (but I've yet to see a person detained in one of the buses).

The Gwanghwamun Gate is currently under construction, covered by scaffolding that is covered by painted plywood and massive inflated Roses of Sharon. Absolutely hideous, especially against the beautiful backdrop of mountains behind the palace and the Blue House - Korea's version of the White House, as Daeshin put it.

After taking advantage of free admission (yipee!!) we walked into a snapshot of Korean history (plus tourists). Geunjeongjeon, the throne hall, was at the forefront of the rest of the palace grounds. We were so wowed that we nearly blocked the entrance so Jon could take pictures like this one, below.

The white-shuttered doors provided a view of the raised throne and various royal artifacts. Entry was prohibited here like in Gyeonghoeru, below, a banquet hall also labelled National Treasure No.244. (In other news National Treasure No. 1, the oldest wooden structure in Seoul, caught fire in early February.)

The remainder of our visit was far less photographed; a quick tour through the National Folk Museum within the palace grounds, then a quick taxi ride with Daeshin and a friend of his we met on our way out of the palace, Joon, to Myeongdong - a fashion district - for some dinner. Although there was a famous jiggae (stew) restaurant in Meyongdong that Daeshin wanted to show us, neither he nor Joon remembered where it was. This is something we've learned to expect in Korea, because there is such a plethora of shops, restaurants, bus stops, and unofficial spellings that no single person can know it all. This one is a city of landmarks.

We settled on a second-floor restaurant with a wonderful dish of nangmeyon noodles and boneless chicken in a spicy, watery chili broth. Daeshin asked us over and over if we were having fun, and telling us that he felt so happy and proud to show us a little bit of Korea. Before August 15, he'd not been to Gwanghwamun either - much like many Ontarians have never been to Queen's Park, or even to the ROM.

We parted at the Subway for a cheap but long ride home. Jon was nearly sick from exhaustion (Keedo had given a string of early wake-up calls the preceeding week) and when we got home we both crashed after a long week. Most weekends have been approached in a similar vein - see Korea when we can, but prioritize rest on our days off!

Jon has since met up with Daeshin for lunch to thank him again and catch up on changes in his life before he goes to study in the US.

Down Home (Korean) Cookin'

Pay day took forever to arrive.  We had spent money as we needed in order to get through the tough early days, eating out often and buying a few things that would last the year; gym memberships, a table and two chairs, basic kitchen equipment and our cell phones.  We had put in the work to compensate for our spending, but had no money to compensate us for our work.  Phone calls were made home (at least on my end) to forewarn that help might be needed - how embarrassing! - and new friends were notified that our ability to join them on the weekends was unfortunately curtailed.

[Enter: Puppy.]

The Unnamed One: I want to play play play!  Yes!  She's wearing those big grey curtain bottoms!  I can follow her around and eat them while she walks!  How fun!

[Unnamed One licks Arla's pants, begins to eat them while she's making a late dinner.  She walks away while the Unnamed One continues to chew her pants, sending him flying across the smooth wood floor. This repeats nightly.]

Staying home instead of joining our bubbly (and some not-so-sociable) coworkers was easier done with an excuse to stay close to home.  We told Jon's parents, Sallianne and Dale that this puppy might even save us money.  Scoff.  I told my parents, Rick and Judy, that we might save money this way because we'd be less likely to eat out for lunch and dinner.  Got a pair of reserved nods, a shrug.

Well we may not have saved a whole whack of money so far, but we've been able to pursue other interests (reading fiction, mainly) while experiencing Korean culture on the cheap, and at home with the pup.

[Enter: Korean cookbook]

We began with the basics: rice=based dishes with enough new veg to make it feel authentic.  We were also hoping that the ingredients for a traditional dish would be local and reltively cheap.  A quick trip to the discount goods/food chain store, E-mart, was incredibly successful thanks in no small part to the sample ladies dotted around the store.  I would walk up to these grumpy hagima (middle-aged, often working, women) with my little shopping list, smile shyly as if I had interrupted something private and important, and continue a conversation like this:

Arla: Um ... door-a-jee?

[Hagima looks confused.  Arla points to the word, written in romanized letters, repeats the question.]

Arla: Door-a-jee?

[Lightbulb goes off in the mind of the hagima]

Hagima: Ah, doraji!

[Hagima runs off to another area of the produce section.  Arla tries to scurry behind her without bumping into another shopper's misplaced cart or hitting anybody's elbow.  The hagima speaks quickly to the woman working the open deli-type counter, instructs her to give me a certain amount of what I want - a soaking wet mound of purple-ish sea roots, also known as bellflower root - and the rest is completed with nods and smiles].

Welcome to my world as a slow-speaking, illiterate waygook among a sea of quick-talking, shopping-savvy Koreans.  Luckily for Jon and I, we don't mind smiling like fools and saying thank you, kahamnasida (pron: kam-na-say-e-da), at all the wrong moments ...

Bibimbap, our first rice-based dish, was a success!  After over an hour slicing beef, various types of marinated mushrooms, bracken (gosari), that weird bellflower root, cucumber, egg yolk and egg white into match-sized strips, and frying each ingredient separately in our only frying pan, we could sit down to enjoy our mock-gourmet feast!

The ingredients, clockwise from the yellow egg yolk: doraji, beef, egg white, shiitake mushroom, cucumber, gosari, and manna lichen mushrooms (seokyi beoseot) sitting atop a bed of rice and a dollop of chili paste.  Yummy!!!  So healthy and so tasty!  If I can find the ingredients back home, I'll make it for everyone!!!

Welcome to Gangnam/Kangnam!

Arla here --

To bring everybody up to speed, I thought that I would post a brief summary of what it's been like here so far. I hope that you don't mind the quick Q & A format ... this message was originally written for Lex (Jon's sister), who asked: Are you enjoying the teaching / new culture?

My lengthy reply was as follows:

"I think that the teaching gig has been going really well for us so far! Better than expected, at least. It's ridiculous that it's my job to teach my native language to a group of people, really ... Most of them have been learning English since high school at the latest. Their grammar is good and their vocabulary extensive. I only wish I could speak French as well as my students speak English. I guess the hardest part is keeping people's attention on the topic, and understanding Konglish (a strange mix of Korean expressions using English words, like 'skinship'). Oh, and reading Korean, which I really can't do for the life of me. I'm absolutely illiterate over here. Jon and I both have cell phones with this handy little Korean to English dictionary function that has proven handy for normal things, like understanding how to work our washing machine. Lifesaver!

To give you an idea of what we do ... the most complicated things I have to teach are English expressions because, I find, that they don't often have a root in common sense. Why, for example, do you see ghosts, but feel spirits? What is the paranormal? Why don't we have 80 different words for the 80 different types of buses that exist in Seoul and area? Why does a bus have a route, but a subway has a line? And these examples are just from one class, 50 minutes long. Put on the spot, I often try to come up with an educated guess ... like that a ghost may have a spirit but a spirit never had a visible body ... that the terms 'inter-city' and 'intra-city' buses include dozens of bus sub-types, etcetera.

Of course, if you were concerned about getting the answers exactly correct, you might feel bombarded with questions that are very difficult to answer correctly (especially with the little prep time that we've got each day for seven hours of class). Maybe that makes me a lazy teacher, even a horrible one. But I'm guessing that my students need a functional answer, not an impeccably correct one, or that they're often just curious when they're digging for more information. So I'll try not to stress about it too much during my first month here.

The new culture is loads of fun! It's like almost anything goes as long as the institutions of marriage, education, work and shame are respected. Women wear anything as long as it's paired with high heels. Yellow is a feminine colour. Not pink. The food is spicy and often paired with soju, a vodka-type drink with 20% liquor often taken as a shot, or with beer. Businessmen vomiting on the streets is not unheard of, although never glamorous. Homosexuality still elicits giggles from my students, but both men and women hold hands while walking down the streets as an acceptable sign of friendship. I expect that seeing two middle-aged businessmen holding hands while they look for a restaurant or talk business will continue to throw me for a loop for a while yet. But being in the centre of an entertainment district has other perks, like shopping and easy access to all modes of transportation. Sales, for example, are 'Happy Sale', and the buses come almost as frequently as the subway.

It's been great so far, if a lot to take in at once."

So, that's my teaching/cultural experience in a nutshell.