23 October 2012
Oh my goodness!! It sure has been a long time since I wrote anything on here. Sorry about that, say I to the people who asked me to compose this blog. To others, I say, you're welcome. Sooo....I don't even know where to begin. So much has happened the last few weeks. I'm afraid this may not be the most clever, witty entry in the world, but hopefully it will kickstart my blog-writing endeavor once again. Consider yourselves warned.
I guess I'll start where I left off. About three weeks ago, the Hubby and I went into the larger city near ours to see a movie at Yawoori, the cinema there. They actually show English movies, albeit with Korean subtitles, but it is really nice to be able to pretend I am at home at the movie theatre for a couple of hours. We saw Taken 2, which was OK, but not nearly as awesome as the first one. No sarcasm intended here. I really did like the first Taken movie. After we left the theatre to take the bus, we realized that we had forgotten that there was a big International Dance Festival in the city that weekend. We stepped out of the shopping mall that houses the movie theatre and were greeted by hoards of people lining the main thoroughfare, waiting for the parade to pass by (literally, in this case). We had not intended to watch said parade, but realized quickly that we would most likely see much of it as we trudged down the street, trying to locate the alternative bus route that would get us back to our apartment in the neighboring town since the normal route was blocked off due to the festivities. As we walked, we saw dance troupes from all over the world, and when I say all over the world, I mean the world that rarely registers on the American radar: little known eastern European countries that gained independence with the fall of the Soviet Union in addition to small nations near India, Malaysia, and Thailand. Upon realizing that I didn't even recognize that 75% of these countries existed, I was a bit ashamed of my lack of geographical awareness. Each troupe performed dances native to their homeland, and some even threw in a nod to the Gangnam Style phenomenon that seems to be sweeping the globe at the moment, much to the delight of their Korean audience, who proceeded to dance with them on the street. After we finally reached the bus stop at the end of the parade route, I went into a Daiso (the equivalent of the Dollar Store in the States) to browse while we waited for the bus to (hopefully) show up (eventually. we hoped.).
When I came out of the store I found the Hubby quietly chuckling to himself. When I asked him what he found so amusing (I was getting slightly cranky waiting for this supposed "bus"), he said that while I was in the store, this older Korean gentleman came up to him and asked him where he was from. Well, it was more like, "You where from? You Russian?" (there is a weird obsession here with people being Russian), to which the Hubby replied that he was from America and pointed to the baseball cap the old man was wearing, which had an American flag (or something referencing America) on it. The old man smiled, a bit confused because, the Hubby surmised, he didn't realize and/or remember what was on his cap. Then the old man laughed, giving the thumbs up sign, and said that he really liked America. America was good. The old man, like most Korean men, was fairly short and looked up and down my husband's tall, slim figure and pointed. "Tall!" he said, with an appraising nod. The Hubby smiled and nodded (he gets this a lot). This old, smiling Korean man then gave my sweet, unsuspecting husband a couple of firm smacks on the behind and walked a way, chuckling to himself all the while. The Hubby, in shock, watched him go sit on a nearby bench to wait for the bus, take out a pocket knife and an apple, and proceed to carefully rotate the fruit under the knife, deftly stripping away its waxy outer layer in one long peel. He then cut the apple into wedges with care and motioned for the Hubby to move closer so as to share his apple with his new American friend. The Hubby did so, and they waited together, eating a shared apple in silent camaraderie until the old man's bus (not our bus *sigh*) finally appeared and he collected his things to go. All this happened, unfortunately, while I was browsing through aisles of inexpensive knick-knacks. Thus, I must hope I do the story justice, only telling it secondhand.
The next day, the kids in the Hubby's class were doing their midterm interviews with him. They had been required to choose three things from a list to do while they were at home over the weekend, which they would then discuss in their interviews. One kid chose to eat a new food he had never tried before and describe the experience. He told the Hubby that his family just gave him the food to eat, not telling him what it was. He thought the texture was strange, but it tasted OK. Eventually, and to his horror apparently, his family told him he had been eating cow tongue. The poor kid grimaced at this point in the interview and complained, "Ugh, teacher. Was my first kiss."
Hopefully I will get better about writing on here. Lord knows there's definitely enough material. I should probably treat it like a regimen or something. Unfortunately, I've never been one to stick with journals. More to come. Stay tuned.
10/04/2012
Rock Out With Your Chew Socks Out!
4 October 2012
So I am going to attempt to write an interesting yet concise entry about our trip to Seoul for Chuseok. Chuseok is one of the most important holidays here and is kind of like Korea's Thanksgiving in as much as it celebrates the harvest, but also during this holiday they pay their respects to their ancestors. A lot of times the whole family will pack up and head off to the cemetery to lay out flowers, gifts, and general tokens of affection during Chuseok. They also give gifts to each other.
For foreigners during Chuseok, it is a great time to take advantage of a five day weekend and take a trip.
FRIDAY NIGHT
We decided to go to Seoul with a big group of friends we met at orientation our first week here.
I think the final headcount ended up being around 15 or so. The Hubby and I had already booked our train tickets on the KTX (bullet train) a couple weeks before, so we were shocked when we arrived at the train station to pick up our tickets only to find that they had been cancelled! After a lot of discussion with the people at the ticketing booth, we discovered that we had mistakenly booked tickets for 7:30 in the morning instead of 7:30 at night. Korea uses military time, so when we clicked on 7:30 as a time for departure, we should have been looking for 19:30 instead. <sigh> Luckily, we were able to get what were probably the last two seats on the 7:30, excuse me, 19:30 Seoul bound train. I think they were the last seats because when we got on, some people were having to stand. Thirty minutes after we boarded, we arrived at Seoul station, ready to start our long holiday weekend!
We took the subway to our hotel, found a few people from our group, and went to dinner. After hanging out for the rest of the night into the wee hours of the next morning, we all headed to bed and agreed to meet the next morning to decide what the game plan was going to be for our first full day in Seoul.
SATURDAY
A groggy, yet excited crew met up at the coffee shop on the corner the next morning, and we decided to go to Insadong, a well known shopping area full of all kinds cultural and souvenir-like goods. From there, we went to Gyeongbokgung Palace, known for housing the royal family of the Joseon Dynasty. Apparently, the original palace complex was destroyed during one of the many Japanese occupations of Korea, but the country has been slowly restoring the buildings.
After visiting the palace, a few of us moseyed on through the streets of Insadong, checking out all the cool artwork and pottery. I love shopping, but it is so hard for me to actually commit to purchasing something. I don't suffer from buyer's remorse as much as I suffer from buyer's paralysis. Just can't decide if I want to spend the money.
After Insadong, we went to Itaewon to meet up with some of the others from our group who had gone on ahead. Itaewon is the area in Seoul often referred to as Little America. It is where all the foreigners go to hang out and is full of all kinds of little western comforts that remind waygooks (foreigners) of home. We reunited with most of our group and ate at a Mexican restaurant called Amigos for dinner. It wasn't bad, but nothing beats Tex Mex from the source.
SUNDAY - Chuseok Day!
After a western style brunch in Itaewon, complete with eggs benedict and homefries (yum!), we decided to hike up to the Seoul Tower to see a complete view of Seoul. It was much steeper than I expected, and I regretted not wearing tennis shoes, but after a long trek up the mountain, we made it, albeit rather drenched in sweat, to the top.
The view on the way up the mountain was really beautiful, as most of the landscape in Korea is.
Once we arrived at the base of the tower, we bought tickets to travel up to the observation deck. While we waited, we had to stop and introduce our British friends to the Cold Stone Creamery ice cream that was available there. At the top of the tower, we were able to see a 360 degree view of Seoul, which is a huge, sprawling city - so much bigger than New York and even more overflowing with people.
No wonder it takes so long to get places on the subway. Manhattan is so compact that you can get pretty much anywhere within twenty to thirty minutes. At least before midnight anyway. One more note about the subway: there is a little song or ditty for everything here. In the subway, a trumpet reveille announces the arrival of the train. The "bell" at our school is the unofficial, quite catchy, anthem for the Chungnam province. Even my washing machine plays a little song to let me know it has finished its cycle. Koreans love their jingles.
While on the subway to our next destination after the Seoul Tower, I was standing there when suddenly I felt someone pulling on the sleeve of my sweater. When I looked down, I saw a little old Korean lady trying to get my attention to tell me to sit down in the empty seat next to her. My feet were incredibly sore after the long hike up and down the mountain to get to the tower, so I gratefully acquiesced and sat down next to her. Then she proceeded to try to get one of the other girls in our group to sit in an empty seat across from us. When our friend smiled and politely declined, the older lady began to firmly and assertively nudge our friend's arm, gesturing for her to sit down. Again our friend tried to tell the lady that she was just fine standing up, after which, my new little Korean grandmother began to nudge my arm and whisper conspiratorially behind her hand (in Korean, mind you), trying to get me to convince my American friend to sit down. Then she began to have a full on conversation with me in Korean. I say "conversation" in spite of the fact that it was completely one-sided and I had no earthly idea what she was saying. I think part of it included an explanation about how she needed to sit on the train because of a bad back. This I derived from gestures and facial expressions. An even larger part of it included more insistent nudging of my arm in an attempt to get my American friend to sit down. She was really worried about that apparently. I just smiled and nodded as she carried on, completely at a loss as to what she was saying, but I must have looked like I understood, 'cause she just kept on talkin'.
When we arrived at our stop, I bowed and said goodbye, smiling to myself at the whole encounter.
That evening, we went on a boat ride of the Han River. It was a "magic cruise" in that it had a magic show that lasted about 30 minutes. It was pretty cool, but the best part was just being on the water.
After our boat cruise, we went back to the area around our hotel where we decided to go to a noraebang (a private karaoke room rented by the hour) where we had a blast reliving the 80s and 90s with Mr. Big, Ace of Base, and some Oasis thrown in for good measure. Those were pretty much the only decades represented in the English song selection.
MONDAY
Monday morning, we headed out to try to catch what we could of the Hi Seoul Festival, one of the most prominent festivals Seoul has to offer. Unfortunately, when we got to Seoul Plaza, we realized that the opening ceremony wasn't until that evening. We had about four hours to kill, which really isn't much time to get around Seoul, have time to do anything, and then get back in time for the festival events. So we walked around a different part of Insadong. It was soooo crowded! Everyone and their adjumma (grandma) was out and about. After a long afternoon of wandering around on our own, we all met back up to claim a spot on the lawn to watch the show. The opening ceremony began with a kind of sporadic parade. I say sporadic because it didn't just keep flowing like parades in the States do. Instead, one group would pass by, then another, then another. Between acts in the parade, everyone just kind of hung out on the street.
After the parade, we went back to the plaza to watch the opening program.
After the program, a lady in traditional garb, or hanbok, came up on the stage and had everyone stand up. Please note that everything said on stage was in Korean, so we only knew what to do by following everyone else. After everyone was standing, the lady was still talking and music began to play as well. Before I knew what was happening, Koreans all over the Plaza began to hold hands and then proceeded to skip off in a sort of snakelike line. All of a sudden, I felt someone grab my own hand and looked up to see the bemused face of one of my friends from our group. Some random guy had grabbed her hand and her expression told me that she was not going alone. We were whisked away to join the dancing crowd, but not before I added another of our group to the line with my free hand. I looked around the lawn to find dozens of concentric circles of joined hands and smiling faces. Here and there I could spot other foreigners from our group with the same I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on-but-I'm-just-gonna-go-with-it expression on their faces. I'm pretty sure they only mirrored my own.
Soon the dancing and music died down, and the crowd began to disperse. The revelry was indeed over for the evening. Exhausted, we went back to the hotel to get ready to leave the next day.
TUESDAY
This last day, I was pretty tired, and a day at home doing absolutely nothing was beckoning to me. We couldn't, however, leave Seoul without seeing the COEX Aquarium. The aquarium had some pretty amazing fish, and I got to see a beaver and a manatee for the first time in real life. Even so, four days chock full of walking and sightseeing had worn me pretty thin, and I kind of breezed through the exhibits, managing to narrowly escape stumbling over the hundreds of children scattered throughout the tiny rooms of the aquarium. My spirits soared, however, when we were coming around a corner and I saw one of the most beautiful things I have yet seen here - a sign proclaiming the existence of an On the Border! That's right, folks, my last meal in Seoul on my five day weekend was chicken fajita Tex Mex nachos at an On the Border American chain restaurant! It was like the Heavens opened up and God had mercy on my poor little Mexican food deprived soul.
After a lovely, albeit exhausting, weekend, I am now home in Asan! Thanks, Seoul, for being so much fun...even if you are WAY too spread out.
So I am going to attempt to write an interesting yet concise entry about our trip to Seoul for Chuseok. Chuseok is one of the most important holidays here and is kind of like Korea's Thanksgiving in as much as it celebrates the harvest, but also during this holiday they pay their respects to their ancestors. A lot of times the whole family will pack up and head off to the cemetery to lay out flowers, gifts, and general tokens of affection during Chuseok. They also give gifts to each other.
 |
| Our gift of two ginormous boxes of apples from the parents of our school. |
For foreigners during Chuseok, it is a great time to take advantage of a five day weekend and take a trip.
FRIDAY NIGHT
We decided to go to Seoul with a big group of friends we met at orientation our first week here.
 |
| The Seoul Crew! |
I think the final headcount ended up being around 15 or so. The Hubby and I had already booked our train tickets on the KTX (bullet train) a couple weeks before, so we were shocked when we arrived at the train station to pick up our tickets only to find that they had been cancelled! After a lot of discussion with the people at the ticketing booth, we discovered that we had mistakenly booked tickets for 7:30 in the morning instead of 7:30 at night. Korea uses military time, so when we clicked on 7:30 as a time for departure, we should have been looking for 19:30 instead. <sigh> Luckily, we were able to get what were probably the last two seats on the 7:30, excuse me, 19:30 Seoul bound train. I think they were the last seats because when we got on, some people were having to stand. Thirty minutes after we boarded, we arrived at Seoul station, ready to start our long holiday weekend!
We took the subway to our hotel, found a few people from our group, and went to dinner. After hanging out for the rest of the night into the wee hours of the next morning, we all headed to bed and agreed to meet the next morning to decide what the game plan was going to be for our first full day in Seoul.
SATURDAY
A groggy, yet excited crew met up at the coffee shop on the corner the next morning, and we decided to go to Insadong, a well known shopping area full of all kinds cultural and souvenir-like goods. From there, we went to Gyeongbokgung Palace, known for housing the royal family of the Joseon Dynasty. Apparently, the original palace complex was destroyed during one of the many Japanese occupations of Korea, but the country has been slowly restoring the buildings.
 |
| Entrance to Gyeongbokgung Palace |
 |
| The Hubby in front of the palace |
 |
| Standing with one of the guardsmen. He never moved. They must be really good sports. |
 |
| Party pavilion at the palace |
 |
| Gardens. The queen had her own garden, which was really the only place she could go outside since she was forbidden to go anywhere in view of other people. Imagine being under house arrest for the rest of your life. |
 |
| Throne Room |
 |
| Beautiful mountains behind the palace |
After visiting the palace, a few of us moseyed on through the streets of Insadong, checking out all the cool artwork and pottery. I love shopping, but it is so hard for me to actually commit to purchasing something. I don't suffer from buyer's remorse as much as I suffer from buyer's paralysis. Just can't decide if I want to spend the money.
After Insadong, we went to Itaewon to meet up with some of the others from our group who had gone on ahead. Itaewon is the area in Seoul often referred to as Little America. It is where all the foreigners go to hang out and is full of all kinds of little western comforts that remind waygooks (foreigners) of home. We reunited with most of our group and ate at a Mexican restaurant called Amigos for dinner. It wasn't bad, but nothing beats Tex Mex from the source.
SUNDAY - Chuseok Day!
After a western style brunch in Itaewon, complete with eggs benedict and homefries (yum!), we decided to hike up to the Seoul Tower to see a complete view of Seoul. It was much steeper than I expected, and I regretted not wearing tennis shoes, but after a long trek up the mountain, we made it, albeit rather drenched in sweat, to the top.
 |
| So many steps |
 |
| Come on! You can do it! |
The view on the way up the mountain was really beautiful, as most of the landscape in Korea is.
Once we arrived at the base of the tower, we bought tickets to travel up to the observation deck. While we waited, we had to stop and introduce our British friends to the Cold Stone Creamery ice cream that was available there. At the top of the tower, we were able to see a 360 degree view of Seoul, which is a huge, sprawling city - so much bigger than New York and even more overflowing with people.
No wonder it takes so long to get places on the subway. Manhattan is so compact that you can get pretty much anywhere within twenty to thirty minutes. At least before midnight anyway. One more note about the subway: there is a little song or ditty for everything here. In the subway, a trumpet reveille announces the arrival of the train. The "bell" at our school is the unofficial, quite catchy, anthem for the Chungnam province. Even my washing machine plays a little song to let me know it has finished its cycle. Koreans love their jingles.
While on the subway to our next destination after the Seoul Tower, I was standing there when suddenly I felt someone pulling on the sleeve of my sweater. When I looked down, I saw a little old Korean lady trying to get my attention to tell me to sit down in the empty seat next to her. My feet were incredibly sore after the long hike up and down the mountain to get to the tower, so I gratefully acquiesced and sat down next to her. Then she proceeded to try to get one of the other girls in our group to sit in an empty seat across from us. When our friend smiled and politely declined, the older lady began to firmly and assertively nudge our friend's arm, gesturing for her to sit down. Again our friend tried to tell the lady that she was just fine standing up, after which, my new little Korean grandmother began to nudge my arm and whisper conspiratorially behind her hand (in Korean, mind you), trying to get me to convince my American friend to sit down. Then she began to have a full on conversation with me in Korean. I say "conversation" in spite of the fact that it was completely one-sided and I had no earthly idea what she was saying. I think part of it included an explanation about how she needed to sit on the train because of a bad back. This I derived from gestures and facial expressions. An even larger part of it included more insistent nudging of my arm in an attempt to get my American friend to sit down. She was really worried about that apparently. I just smiled and nodded as she carried on, completely at a loss as to what she was saying, but I must have looked like I understood, 'cause she just kept on talkin'.
 |
| There we are. That's my I'm-trying-to-be-polite-and-not-outright-laugh-at-this-situation face. |
That evening, we went on a boat ride of the Han River. It was a "magic cruise" in that it had a magic show that lasted about 30 minutes. It was pretty cool, but the best part was just being on the water.
After our boat cruise, we went back to the area around our hotel where we decided to go to a noraebang (a private karaoke room rented by the hour) where we had a blast reliving the 80s and 90s with Mr. Big, Ace of Base, and some Oasis thrown in for good measure. Those were pretty much the only decades represented in the English song selection.
MONDAY
Monday morning, we headed out to try to catch what we could of the Hi Seoul Festival, one of the most prominent festivals Seoul has to offer. Unfortunately, when we got to Seoul Plaza, we realized that the opening ceremony wasn't until that evening. We had about four hours to kill, which really isn't much time to get around Seoul, have time to do anything, and then get back in time for the festival events. So we walked around a different part of Insadong. It was soooo crowded! Everyone and their adjumma (grandma) was out and about. After a long afternoon of wandering around on our own, we all met back up to claim a spot on the lawn to watch the show. The opening ceremony began with a kind of sporadic parade. I say sporadic because it didn't just keep flowing like parades in the States do. Instead, one group would pass by, then another, then another. Between acts in the parade, everyone just kind of hung out on the street.
 |
| This puppet contraption reminded me so much of my time in Lyon, France at a theatre workshop watching and doing some pretty weird theatre. |
 |
| Fairy bride in a Korean fairy tale |
 |
| Deer in Korean fairy tale |
 |
| White Tiger; one of Korea's guardians |
 |
| Phoenix (that looks an awful lot like a chicken); another guardian |
 |
| Dragon; another guardian |
After the parade, we went back to the plaza to watch the opening program.
 |
| These guys formed a human mobile dangling from a crane above the crowd. They were strapped in a harness and were drumming the whole time. So awesome. Above them was a trapeze artist whose face was painted like the Joker. Kind of random, but soooooo Korea. (Although I think this particular troupe was from Chicago strangely enough.) |
 |
| Lots of fireworks. I mean A LOT! |
After the program, a lady in traditional garb, or hanbok, came up on the stage and had everyone stand up. Please note that everything said on stage was in Korean, so we only knew what to do by following everyone else. After everyone was standing, the lady was still talking and music began to play as well. Before I knew what was happening, Koreans all over the Plaza began to hold hands and then proceeded to skip off in a sort of snakelike line. All of a sudden, I felt someone grab my own hand and looked up to see the bemused face of one of my friends from our group. Some random guy had grabbed her hand and her expression told me that she was not going alone. We were whisked away to join the dancing crowd, but not before I added another of our group to the line with my free hand. I looked around the lawn to find dozens of concentric circles of joined hands and smiling faces. Here and there I could spot other foreigners from our group with the same I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on-but-I'm-just-gonna-go-with-it expression on their faces. I'm pretty sure they only mirrored my own.
 |
| Me trying to figure out what the heck just happened. |
TUESDAY
This last day, I was pretty tired, and a day at home doing absolutely nothing was beckoning to me. We couldn't, however, leave Seoul without seeing the COEX Aquarium. The aquarium had some pretty amazing fish, and I got to see a beaver and a manatee for the first time in real life. Even so, four days chock full of walking and sightseeing had worn me pretty thin, and I kind of breezed through the exhibits, managing to narrowly escape stumbling over the hundreds of children scattered throughout the tiny rooms of the aquarium. My spirits soared, however, when we were coming around a corner and I saw one of the most beautiful things I have yet seen here - a sign proclaiming the existence of an On the Border! That's right, folks, my last meal in Seoul on my five day weekend was chicken fajita Tex Mex nachos at an On the Border American chain restaurant! It was like the Heavens opened up and God had mercy on my poor little Mexican food deprived soul.
After a lovely, albeit exhausting, weekend, I am now home in Asan! Thanks, Seoul, for being so much fun...even if you are WAY too spread out.
 |
| THE END! (for now) |
9/25/2012
Ginsengocide and a Warrior Turtle
25 September 2012
First of all, I must state that in Korea, there is a festival for EVERYTHING. Apple festivals, floating lantern festivals, walnut cookie festivals, mud festivals. You name it, there is a festival for it. Last weekend, we decided to head a little further into the heart of Korea for the Ginseng Festival in Geumsan. That's right, folks. There is a Ginseng Festival. We got up early Saturday morning and rode a bus for a couple hours to Daejon, a really large city in our province; then we transferred to another bus for another hour until we came to the smaller town of Geumsan.
When we got off the bus, we immediately began to collect stares. The inhabitants of our city are pretty used to seeing foreigners. For the most part. In Geumsan, however, it seemed obvious that we were most likely a rarity. Armed with my phrasebook, I looked up the word for "ginseng" and the word for "festival," hailed a taxi, spouted off my new Korean vocabulary, which, luckily, was not difficult for the driver to understand in spite of my heavy American accent, and we were off. Even in small towns there are taxis here. It seems easier to get a taxi in the smallest towns in Korea than it is to get one in Queens sometimes. The cab maneuvered down crowded streets full to bursting with vendors of all sorts and their patrons, searching for the best bargain. It was hard to tell where the normal Saturday open air market ended and the actual festival began. At the entrance of the festival, we spotted tent after tent after tent filled with all things ginseng. Occasionally, some folks who were staring at us would shout "Hello!" and then run away, giggling at having exhausted their entire English vocabulary with the use of that one word. We waved a lot, smiled a lot, and bowed. A lot.
Everywhere we went, people plied us with various Geumsan ginseng delicacies. There was one very kind, yet oddly assertive, gentleman leading us from tent to tent, trying to get us to taste and experience everything the festival had to offer. There was ginseng tea, ginseng candy, ginseng wine, deep fried ginseng (couldn't quite bring myself to try this one), ginseng jellies, ginseng syrup (with a honey-like consistency), and, to the dismay of our already overstimulated taste buds, some sort of ginseng extract. The good-natured ladies distributing samples gave each of us a popsicle stick they had dipped in jar full of a dark, thick liquid about the color and consistency of molasses, and then they smiled, eager for the positive reaction they were sure we would have when we tried their tasty treat. As soon as the dark goo assaulted my tongue, it was everything I could do not to immediately search for the nearest napkin to wipe it away. I don't know that I can even describe the taste fully. It reminded me of when Dumbledore, in one of the Harry Potter books, says he came across a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean that tasted like earwax. It was oddly bitter, metallic, and earthy, and left an aftertaste like nothing I have ever experienced. The Hubby and I both looked at each other and tried to smile as we choked down the stuff. We didn't want to offend, but... Man, that was nasty! Speaking of Harry Potter, ginseng itself really reminds me of those screaming plants in the Chamber of Secrets books. I kept half expecting to have to cover my ears to prevent passing out.
After we escaped the ginseng food gauntlet, we decided to go into the Museum. There, you can learn all about how ginseng is the life-giving root that has sustained the Korean people and, indeed, the world for hundreds of years. Did you know that ginseng is apparently good for every organ and system in your body? You only thought that beans were the magical fruit. As I travelled around the museum, looking at all the exhibits and photos, I noticed that we were being followed. Every time I looked over my shoulder or a few feet away from me at various angles, I saw a guy who looked to be the official festival photographer snapping dozens of photos of me and the Hubby as we wandered the different showrooms. He was accompanied by another guy with a video camera, who was also probably shooting promotional footage for the festival. Later, as I perused a brochure, I noticed that it was littered with pictures of smiling foreigners who, like us, had visited the festival in years past. If one were to look at advertisements and information pamphlets for next year's festival, I am pretty sure you will spot a couple of Americans who look uncannily like us smiling back at you from the pages.
After we had visited all three floors of the museum and learned about the wonders of ginseng, we were in the lobby deciding where to go next, when two women appeared at our sides and hurriedly led us (and by led I mean nicely, but firmly, grabbed our arms and pulled us) into an alcove where they thrust 3D glasses into our hands and then, for lack of a better word, shoved us into a small room with a movie screen. The tiny theatre was packed, but we found two seats together in the back row. Dozens of eyes followed us intently as we made our way to our seats. Not sure what to expect, we sat down and put on our glasses as the lights began to dim. What we saw next made the entire trip worthwhile.
We proceeded to watch a 3D cartoon (thankfully, with English subtitles) in which the god of Ginseng, ages ago, took pity on mere mortals and gave them this magical root. As a result, the humans prospered greatly. To protect the ginseng, the god appointed a warrior turtle to guard it from any that might seek to harm it and take away the life-giving energy it provided. The god of Death, however, became angry and jealous of the humans' prosperity and decided to steal the ginseng from the people. In the year 2011, the evil god succeeds and defeats the warrior turtle with his evil swarm of flying insects. The film then cuts to a scene of people purchasing ginseng from a market, and as soon as the god steals the ginseng, they begin to writhe around in agony, clutching their heads, hearts, stomachs, arms, legs, etc. (all parts of the body which ginseng is supposed to benefit...sooo....the whole body, according to Koreans). The roots they are buying shrivel in their hands. Pain and anguish come to the people due to the loss of the ginseng. All of a sudden, a man appears at the side of the defeated warrior turtle asking if he is too late. We then discover that the man is from the future, from the year 2035, where the world is dying due to the loss of the ginseng. We see a glimpse into the future when the man is given his mission to travel back to 2011 and to stop the god of death from carrying out his evil plans. In the scene from the future, there is a huge chart on the wall that shows a dark graph depicting the loss of human life in correlation to the loss of ginseng. At the bottom of the chart, the word "ginsengocide" appears, written in English.
At this point in the film, the Hubby and I are trying our best to stifle the laughter that perpetually threatens to erupt from us as we take in the amazing-ness that is this whole cartoon experience. Which is 4-D, by the way. Air keeps blowing on us every time the evil flying insects appear.
As the film continues, the future-guy and the warrior turtle locate where the god of death has hidden the ginseng, encased in a glowing, blue force field. They fight the god and defeat him, essentially killing death, mind you. After the battle, the future-guy collapses, apparently dead. The ginseng magically begins to grow around him, lifting his still form off the ground. Then the ginseng begins to shoot off magic bubbles that float into the man's mouth, reviving him and restoring ginseng to the world. Christian metaphors abound.
As the lights came back up in the theatre, the Hubby and I just stared at each other, open mouthed. "That. Was. Awesome," he said, his smile matching my own. Only in Korea. We made our way back to the bus terminal and headed back to Daejon, satisfied with our entire experience, if only because we saw that incredibly strange, yet delightful cartoon.
At the terminal in Daejon, I turned around, looking for the ticketing booth, when, much to my surprise, I spotted a couple of people we had met at our orientation in Cheonan the month before. I called to them, and we agreed to meet up later to hang out. We all ended up staying in Daejon that night, having a great time with other native Engish speakers.
Can't wait for our next adventure in Seoul next weekend for Korean Thanksgiving, or Chuseok! Stay tuned.
First of all, I must state that in Korea, there is a festival for EVERYTHING. Apple festivals, floating lantern festivals, walnut cookie festivals, mud festivals. You name it, there is a festival for it. Last weekend, we decided to head a little further into the heart of Korea for the Ginseng Festival in Geumsan. That's right, folks. There is a Ginseng Festival. We got up early Saturday morning and rode a bus for a couple hours to Daejon, a really large city in our province; then we transferred to another bus for another hour until we came to the smaller town of Geumsan.
When we got off the bus, we immediately began to collect stares. The inhabitants of our city are pretty used to seeing foreigners. For the most part. In Geumsan, however, it seemed obvious that we were most likely a rarity. Armed with my phrasebook, I looked up the word for "ginseng" and the word for "festival," hailed a taxi, spouted off my new Korean vocabulary, which, luckily, was not difficult for the driver to understand in spite of my heavy American accent, and we were off. Even in small towns there are taxis here. It seems easier to get a taxi in the smallest towns in Korea than it is to get one in Queens sometimes. The cab maneuvered down crowded streets full to bursting with vendors of all sorts and their patrons, searching for the best bargain. It was hard to tell where the normal Saturday open air market ended and the actual festival began. At the entrance of the festival, we spotted tent after tent after tent filled with all things ginseng. Occasionally, some folks who were staring at us would shout "Hello!" and then run away, giggling at having exhausted their entire English vocabulary with the use of that one word. We waved a lot, smiled a lot, and bowed. A lot.
Everywhere we went, people plied us with various Geumsan ginseng delicacies. There was one very kind, yet oddly assertive, gentleman leading us from tent to tent, trying to get us to taste and experience everything the festival had to offer. There was ginseng tea, ginseng candy, ginseng wine, deep fried ginseng (couldn't quite bring myself to try this one), ginseng jellies, ginseng syrup (with a honey-like consistency), and, to the dismay of our already overstimulated taste buds, some sort of ginseng extract. The good-natured ladies distributing samples gave each of us a popsicle stick they had dipped in jar full of a dark, thick liquid about the color and consistency of molasses, and then they smiled, eager for the positive reaction they were sure we would have when we tried their tasty treat. As soon as the dark goo assaulted my tongue, it was everything I could do not to immediately search for the nearest napkin to wipe it away. I don't know that I can even describe the taste fully. It reminded me of when Dumbledore, in one of the Harry Potter books, says he came across a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean that tasted like earwax. It was oddly bitter, metallic, and earthy, and left an aftertaste like nothing I have ever experienced. The Hubby and I both looked at each other and tried to smile as we choked down the stuff. We didn't want to offend, but... Man, that was nasty! Speaking of Harry Potter, ginseng itself really reminds me of those screaming plants in the Chamber of Secrets books. I kept half expecting to have to cover my ears to prevent passing out.
After we escaped the ginseng food gauntlet, we decided to go into the Museum. There, you can learn all about how ginseng is the life-giving root that has sustained the Korean people and, indeed, the world for hundreds of years. Did you know that ginseng is apparently good for every organ and system in your body? You only thought that beans were the magical fruit. As I travelled around the museum, looking at all the exhibits and photos, I noticed that we were being followed. Every time I looked over my shoulder or a few feet away from me at various angles, I saw a guy who looked to be the official festival photographer snapping dozens of photos of me and the Hubby as we wandered the different showrooms. He was accompanied by another guy with a video camera, who was also probably shooting promotional footage for the festival. Later, as I perused a brochure, I noticed that it was littered with pictures of smiling foreigners who, like us, had visited the festival in years past. If one were to look at advertisements and information pamphlets for next year's festival, I am pretty sure you will spot a couple of Americans who look uncannily like us smiling back at you from the pages.
After we had visited all three floors of the museum and learned about the wonders of ginseng, we were in the lobby deciding where to go next, when two women appeared at our sides and hurriedly led us (and by led I mean nicely, but firmly, grabbed our arms and pulled us) into an alcove where they thrust 3D glasses into our hands and then, for lack of a better word, shoved us into a small room with a movie screen. The tiny theatre was packed, but we found two seats together in the back row. Dozens of eyes followed us intently as we made our way to our seats. Not sure what to expect, we sat down and put on our glasses as the lights began to dim. What we saw next made the entire trip worthwhile.
We proceeded to watch a 3D cartoon (thankfully, with English subtitles) in which the god of Ginseng, ages ago, took pity on mere mortals and gave them this magical root. As a result, the humans prospered greatly. To protect the ginseng, the god appointed a warrior turtle to guard it from any that might seek to harm it and take away the life-giving energy it provided. The god of Death, however, became angry and jealous of the humans' prosperity and decided to steal the ginseng from the people. In the year 2011, the evil god succeeds and defeats the warrior turtle with his evil swarm of flying insects. The film then cuts to a scene of people purchasing ginseng from a market, and as soon as the god steals the ginseng, they begin to writhe around in agony, clutching their heads, hearts, stomachs, arms, legs, etc. (all parts of the body which ginseng is supposed to benefit...sooo....the whole body, according to Koreans). The roots they are buying shrivel in their hands. Pain and anguish come to the people due to the loss of the ginseng. All of a sudden, a man appears at the side of the defeated warrior turtle asking if he is too late. We then discover that the man is from the future, from the year 2035, where the world is dying due to the loss of the ginseng. We see a glimpse into the future when the man is given his mission to travel back to 2011 and to stop the god of death from carrying out his evil plans. In the scene from the future, there is a huge chart on the wall that shows a dark graph depicting the loss of human life in correlation to the loss of ginseng. At the bottom of the chart, the word "ginsengocide" appears, written in English.
At this point in the film, the Hubby and I are trying our best to stifle the laughter that perpetually threatens to erupt from us as we take in the amazing-ness that is this whole cartoon experience. Which is 4-D, by the way. Air keeps blowing on us every time the evil flying insects appear.
As the film continues, the future-guy and the warrior turtle locate where the god of death has hidden the ginseng, encased in a glowing, blue force field. They fight the god and defeat him, essentially killing death, mind you. After the battle, the future-guy collapses, apparently dead. The ginseng magically begins to grow around him, lifting his still form off the ground. Then the ginseng begins to shoot off magic bubbles that float into the man's mouth, reviving him and restoring ginseng to the world. Christian metaphors abound.
 |
| Best ginseng propaganda film EVER! |
As the lights came back up in the theatre, the Hubby and I just stared at each other, open mouthed. "That. Was. Awesome," he said, his smile matching my own. Only in Korea. We made our way back to the bus terminal and headed back to Daejon, satisfied with our entire experience, if only because we saw that incredibly strange, yet delightful cartoon.
At the terminal in Daejon, I turned around, looking for the ticketing booth, when, much to my surprise, I spotted a couple of people we had met at our orientation in Cheonan the month before. I called to them, and we agreed to meet up later to hang out. We all ended up staying in Daejon that night, having a great time with other native Engish speakers.
 |
| Daejon night life! |
Can't wait for our next adventure in Seoul next weekend for Korean Thanksgiving, or Chuseok! Stay tuned.
9/21/2012
Hail the Conquering Hero(ine)! or Onyang or Bust
20 September 2012
I can't believe it's already been almost a month since we left everything familiar to trek across the globe and begin this whole adventure. And what an adventure it has been thus far...
I can't remember if I have explained this before, but we live in the city of Asan-si (si means city), and there are different parts of the city, usually referred to as a "dong," which is kind of like a neighborhood. I guess, for those who are familiar with the way NYC is run, it would be like saying that Astoria, Sunnyside, Jamaica, etc. are all parts of Queens. That is the closest way I can think to describe it, though. At least I think I'm right. I keep thinking, "Oh! Now I get it!" about multiple things here, only to discover that, "Oh, nope. Just kidding. Didn't get that at all." Anyway, all that rambling to say...
The Hubby and I went to Onyang last night (part of our "city" Asan-si) to locate a place where I can indulge my inner Zen Master and participate in hot yoga. I have really missed this kind of relaxation/torture and have been wanting to get back into it. It was just way too expensive in NYC, so I haven't been able to go to a class for over two years. I searched the conversations on various Facebook Group pages for yoga studios in our area, and found a couple of places mentioned. Getting directions to these studios, however, has been nothing short of frustrating. Whenever I ask for help on getting to places in Korea, I often get somewhat vague descriptions like, "Oh, the post office? Oh yeah, you just take the bus to <insert unknown-to-me, obscure-even-to-others neighborhood> and go into the green building with orange letters on it."
"Sure," I reply while I watch them saunter nonchalantly away, self-satisfied that their directions were more than adequate. And that's just the other foreigners. Directions from native Koreans involve a lot of Korean language, hand gestures, and frustration on the part of said native Koreans as I stare at them like a deer in headlights, completely unable to grasp any meaning in their entire explanation. Most of the time I just stare, smile dumbly, and say "Gamsahabnida (thank you)" as I trudge slowly away, shaking my head in defeat in spite of the high spirits and confidence in my little Korean phrasebook that drove me to ask for directions in the first place.
But I digress...
After scrutinizing Google maps and sounding out all the names of places in Hangul, a process, mind you, that takes me about as much time as it does to read an entire chapter of a novel in English, my desperation for yoga combined with my meticulous preparation propelled me to take the plunge. I headed down to the bus stop near our apartment and we rode it all the way downtown. We found the main train station simply by staring intently out the window and pressing the "stop request" button when a large terminal-like building was in front of us. I have to admit it probably looked a bit creepy to all the citizens of Asan to see my caucasian face and hands pressed firmly against the window of the bus, searching wildly around like some psychotic mime trapped in 'box.'
Once we finally reached the station, we got off the bus and began our next part of our scavenger hunt. Not only was I looking for a restaurant that I had never seen before, which was my marker for the building in which the studio was located, I was also trying to decipher the word "yoga" written in another language at the same time. I wandered the streets slowly, mouth agape, most likely contributing to the "psychotic foreigner mime" persona, until angels began to sing, a light shown from Heaven above, and I FOUND MY DESTINATION! Gleefully, I skipped up the steps of the building, past the restaurant on the ground floor and up to the elusive yoga studio. I had been trying to figure out how to find this thing for the past two weeks! Small figures suspended in various yoga postions beckoned to me from their spots on the wall like tiny little lighthouses guiding my path, telling me I was indeed on the right track. When I reached the correct floor, a kind little woman greeted me warmly. In Korean. With a lot of universal sign language, the help of a schedule sheet with bits of English on it, and the four or five Korean words I actually understand, I successfully signed up for a 10 class card. (At least I think it was successful. We'll see when I actually try to go to a class later today.) Giddy with my little victory in communication and the promise of sweat-filled yoga classes to come, the Hubby and I decided to celebrate by visiting the... wait for it... PIZZA HUT (that's right, a PIZZA HUT) for a delicious taste of home.
After enjoying the bliss of cheese melted on the crisp, buttery deliciousness that is the Pizza Hut original pan crust, we walked back to the bus stop to head for home. The Hubby, wanting something a little sweet after dinner, stepped into a convenience store while I waited for the bus. Beside me, I heard a timid voice ask, "Where are you from?" in accented English. I turned to look to see where the question had come from. A young man in his mid-twenties (?) stood looking curiously at me. I smiled and answered, "America" (trying to explain anywhere other than Chicago and New York is too difficult, but being the true Texan I am, I cannot claim to be from anywhere else). In very broken English, Brian (that is his English name*) began the longest, most arduous, most determined attempt I have ever heard to converse with someone in another language. He tried so hard to recall his entire English vocabulary and was absolutely set on having a conversation and practicing his second language with native speakers (the Hubby had joined me shortly after Brian started talking to me). The Hubby often says he cannot leave me alone for a minute without someone coming up and trying to chat me up; it's usually elderly people. He says I look kind and approachable. I think it's my dazzling wit and charm. It must emanate from me in magnetic waves. ;) That, or I remind people of their daughter, sister, or granddaughter. Anyway, Brian talked to us about everything he could for about a full hour while we waited for our bus in vain; it must have stopped running. At one point, he even borrowed our Korean phrasebook to keep coming up with subjects to talk about. We were trying so hard to extricate ourselves from the conversation in order to catch a taxi so we could go home, but he was just so dead set on continuing to practice his English and I had to admire him for his tenacity.
The Hubby and I kept exchanging glances that said, "Are you ready to go?" "So ready." "Can you get us out of this?" "What? So soon? You mean you're not enjoying yourself?" <insert narrowed eyes here> "OK. OK. I'll try to break in without seeming too abrupt." Or some form of that unspoken conversation passed between us anyway. Finally, we were able to explain to Brian that we needed to leave after he started trying to get us to rate his English speaking, listening, and writing abilities on some sort of numeric scale. At least we think that's what he wanted, but we don't know for sure.
We had to catch a cab after waiting for the bus for an hour in vain; it must've stopped running. Luckily, taxis here are much less expensive than in NYC. At home, I plopped down on the couch. My face hurt from smiling so much. I smile when I have on my listening face with strangers. I was also tired after our little adventure. Tired. But so is every other conquering hero after vanquishing her foe. Winning!
*Note: Often, Korean students will give themselves English names as well. They generally choose their own names. In our school we have a Lovely, a Wisdom, and an Obama. In my friend's school, she has a Samsung and a Children.
I can't believe it's already been almost a month since we left everything familiar to trek across the globe and begin this whole adventure. And what an adventure it has been thus far...
I can't remember if I have explained this before, but we live in the city of Asan-si (si means city), and there are different parts of the city, usually referred to as a "dong," which is kind of like a neighborhood. I guess, for those who are familiar with the way NYC is run, it would be like saying that Astoria, Sunnyside, Jamaica, etc. are all parts of Queens. That is the closest way I can think to describe it, though. At least I think I'm right. I keep thinking, "Oh! Now I get it!" about multiple things here, only to discover that, "Oh, nope. Just kidding. Didn't get that at all." Anyway, all that rambling to say...
The Hubby and I went to Onyang last night (part of our "city" Asan-si) to locate a place where I can indulge my inner Zen Master and participate in hot yoga. I have really missed this kind of relaxation/torture and have been wanting to get back into it. It was just way too expensive in NYC, so I haven't been able to go to a class for over two years. I searched the conversations on various Facebook Group pages for yoga studios in our area, and found a couple of places mentioned. Getting directions to these studios, however, has been nothing short of frustrating. Whenever I ask for help on getting to places in Korea, I often get somewhat vague descriptions like, "Oh, the post office? Oh yeah, you just take the bus to <insert unknown-to-me, obscure-even-to-others neighborhood> and go into the green building with orange letters on it."
"Sure," I reply while I watch them saunter nonchalantly away, self-satisfied that their directions were more than adequate. And that's just the other foreigners. Directions from native Koreans involve a lot of Korean language, hand gestures, and frustration on the part of said native Koreans as I stare at them like a deer in headlights, completely unable to grasp any meaning in their entire explanation. Most of the time I just stare, smile dumbly, and say "Gamsahabnida (thank you)" as I trudge slowly away, shaking my head in defeat in spite of the high spirits and confidence in my little Korean phrasebook that drove me to ask for directions in the first place.
But I digress...
After scrutinizing Google maps and sounding out all the names of places in Hangul, a process, mind you, that takes me about as much time as it does to read an entire chapter of a novel in English, my desperation for yoga combined with my meticulous preparation propelled me to take the plunge. I headed down to the bus stop near our apartment and we rode it all the way downtown. We found the main train station simply by staring intently out the window and pressing the "stop request" button when a large terminal-like building was in front of us. I have to admit it probably looked a bit creepy to all the citizens of Asan to see my caucasian face and hands pressed firmly against the window of the bus, searching wildly around like some psychotic mime trapped in 'box.'
Once we finally reached the station, we got off the bus and began our next part of our scavenger hunt. Not only was I looking for a restaurant that I had never seen before, which was my marker for the building in which the studio was located, I was also trying to decipher the word "yoga" written in another language at the same time. I wandered the streets slowly, mouth agape, most likely contributing to the "psychotic foreigner mime" persona, until angels began to sing, a light shown from Heaven above, and I FOUND MY DESTINATION! Gleefully, I skipped up the steps of the building, past the restaurant on the ground floor and up to the elusive yoga studio. I had been trying to figure out how to find this thing for the past two weeks! Small figures suspended in various yoga postions beckoned to me from their spots on the wall like tiny little lighthouses guiding my path, telling me I was indeed on the right track. When I reached the correct floor, a kind little woman greeted me warmly. In Korean. With a lot of universal sign language, the help of a schedule sheet with bits of English on it, and the four or five Korean words I actually understand, I successfully signed up for a 10 class card. (At least I think it was successful. We'll see when I actually try to go to a class later today.) Giddy with my little victory in communication and the promise of sweat-filled yoga classes to come, the Hubby and I decided to celebrate by visiting the... wait for it... PIZZA HUT (that's right, a PIZZA HUT) for a delicious taste of home.
After enjoying the bliss of cheese melted on the crisp, buttery deliciousness that is the Pizza Hut original pan crust, we walked back to the bus stop to head for home. The Hubby, wanting something a little sweet after dinner, stepped into a convenience store while I waited for the bus. Beside me, I heard a timid voice ask, "Where are you from?" in accented English. I turned to look to see where the question had come from. A young man in his mid-twenties (?) stood looking curiously at me. I smiled and answered, "America" (trying to explain anywhere other than Chicago and New York is too difficult, but being the true Texan I am, I cannot claim to be from anywhere else). In very broken English, Brian (that is his English name*) began the longest, most arduous, most determined attempt I have ever heard to converse with someone in another language. He tried so hard to recall his entire English vocabulary and was absolutely set on having a conversation and practicing his second language with native speakers (the Hubby had joined me shortly after Brian started talking to me). The Hubby often says he cannot leave me alone for a minute without someone coming up and trying to chat me up; it's usually elderly people. He says I look kind and approachable. I think it's my dazzling wit and charm. It must emanate from me in magnetic waves. ;) That, or I remind people of their daughter, sister, or granddaughter. Anyway, Brian talked to us about everything he could for about a full hour while we waited for our bus in vain; it must have stopped running. At one point, he even borrowed our Korean phrasebook to keep coming up with subjects to talk about. We were trying so hard to extricate ourselves from the conversation in order to catch a taxi so we could go home, but he was just so dead set on continuing to practice his English and I had to admire him for his tenacity.
The Hubby and I kept exchanging glances that said, "Are you ready to go?" "So ready." "Can you get us out of this?" "What? So soon? You mean you're not enjoying yourself?" <insert narrowed eyes here> "OK. OK. I'll try to break in without seeming too abrupt." Or some form of that unspoken conversation passed between us anyway. Finally, we were able to explain to Brian that we needed to leave after he started trying to get us to rate his English speaking, listening, and writing abilities on some sort of numeric scale. At least we think that's what he wanted, but we don't know for sure.
We had to catch a cab after waiting for the bus for an hour in vain; it must've stopped running. Luckily, taxis here are much less expensive than in NYC. At home, I plopped down on the couch. My face hurt from smiling so much. I smile when I have on my listening face with strangers. I was also tired after our little adventure. Tired. But so is every other conquering hero after vanquishing her foe. Winning!
*Note: Often, Korean students will give themselves English names as well. They generally choose their own names. In our school we have a Lovely, a Wisdom, and an Obama. In my friend's school, she has a Samsung and a Children.
9/16/2012
Jimjilbang!...or Naked in Korea
16 September 2012
A friend we met at orientation came to visit us this weekend. Original plans fell through, so after our visit to the art gallery in Cheonan, which was small but full of some interesting pieces, we decided to make an impromptu visit to the famous hot springs spa for which our Korean hometown, Asan, is well known.
First, perhaps, I should lay out some information on spas in Korea. They are called jimjilbangs, and Koreans frequent them quite often. Here is a little bit on jimjilbangs a la Wikipedia:
"A Jjimjilbang (찜질방) is a large, gender-segregated public bathhouse in Korea, furnished with hot tubs, showers, Finnish-style saunas, and massage tables. Jjimjil is derived from the words meaning heated bath. However, in other areas of the building or on other floors there are unisex areas, usually with a snack bar, ondol-heated floor for lounging and sleeping, wide-screen TVs, exercise rooms, ice rooms, heated salt rooms, PC bang, noraebang (karoake), and sleeping quarters with either bunk beds or sleeping mats. Many of the sleeping rooms can have themes or elements to them. Usually Jjimjilbangs will have various rooms with different temperatures to suit your preferred relaxing temperature. They inlay the walls with different woods, minerals, crystals, stones, and metals. This is to make the ambient mood and smell more natural. Often the elements used have traditional Korean medicinal purposes in the various rooms."
My thoughts were, "Well, that small description will prepare me for what I am about to experience, right?" Come on, folks, this is Korea! Nothing can prepare you for what you will encounter here!
After an incredibly long bus ride, we finally decided to just grab a taxi and head over to the spa. It was a good thing we took a cab, by the way, since the distance between where I thought the spa was and where it actually is was a good seven or eight kilometers (about five miles for you 'Mericans out there). When the taxi driver passed the place where I was sure the spa was supposed to be and headed out for the Asan countryside, I admit that my imagination began to create awful scenarios in which I had led my unsuspecting husband and friend into a foreigner's nightmare. I pictured myself having to carry out swift ninja-like punishments on the gang of cab drivers/thieves who were going to assault us and force us into their lives of organized crime as their English-speaking counterparts. OK. Maybe that's a little extreme. Let's just say I was nervous I had not communicated effectively and we were going to end up in the middle of nowhere with a gigantic fare to pay.
When I saw the sign for the spa, thankfully written in English as well as Hangul, I breathed a sigh of relief and stopped worrying we were going to have to hitchhike our way home, penniless and without a Korean phrase book. We uttered our thanks to the taxi driver, paid about 12 bucks for what would've been a $30 cab ride in NYC, and went inside.
For 8,000 won, about $8, we gained admission and were given some sort of numbered, electronic key card that you wear around your wrist like a watch. With this, we were able to open our first locker, a shoe locker. Remember that, in Korea, you must take off your shoes before entering an indoor area. After we deposited our shoes, we headed out to find the locker rooms. When we found them, we parted company, agreeing to meet in the lobby in two hours. The Hubby went off alone to the men's area, and our friend and I proceeded to join the rest of the women.
We walked into the locker room where rows and rows of numbered lockers greeted us. There had to have been at least 4000 lockers in all. Here's where I started to realize I wasn't in Kansas anymore, Toto. Women of all ages, shapes, sizes, etc. were all walking around. Completely. Stark. Naked. Not a stitch, friends. And no self-consciousness to boot. My friend and I found our lockers, looked at each other, shrugged, and then stripped. Talk about vulnerable! When in Rome, though. When we started for the actual spa area, I saw some small towels, which Koreans use as bath towels, but which are roughly the size of hand towels in the States. About two feet by one foot. As soon as I saw them, I grabbed one to try to preserve a modicum of modesty. It didn't cover much, but it provided the smallest bit of security. Then we went to the shower area. You are supposed to shower before entering the rest of the spa area. Afterwards, I looked around, my eyes huge and mouth gaping, as I saw what looked like an all female nudist colony on vacation. In the larger area were about ten small pools. Some had whirlpools and were called "health baths," some had just still, hot spring water, some were cold (for contracting your pores once the hot baths had opened them), and a couple were filled with green liquid, which we found out (from one woman who was very kind and spoke English with us) were infused with some sort of healing herb. (The Hubby, reading this entry over my shoulder, has just informed me, with chagrin, that the men did not have a healing herb bath. Guess the ladies are special.) We tried a little time in each type of pool and all the saunas as well. There was a "fog room" (steam room), a regular sauna, and a charcoal room in which large logs of charcoal lined the walls and gave off a sort of earthy aroma therapy. In each room was a little hourglass with sand, which you were supposed to flip over when you entered to ensure that you stayed there just the right amount of time.
I have to say, too. I am already stared at in Korea a lot, due to my freckled, fair skin and red hair, but it is really disconcerting for everyone to stare at you while you are totally naked. It was pretty surreal. As I looked around while soaking, though, I realized that this whole naked bathing thing was so not out of the ordinary for everyone - except for me and my American friend. Kids played in the cooler pools, splashing around and having fun; grandmothers and mothers relaxed and chatted while keeping one eye trained on the kids. It was like a normal day at the pool in the U.S. Except for the nakedness.
After about one hour, we decided that two had been a little ambitious, and went to the last area - the scrubbing area. The scrubbing area consisted of faucets with moveable shower heads placed in front of mirrors, giant pump bottles full of body wash, and buckets, which had been turned over to provide seats. Here, the women scrub away to exfoliate their skin, and often the skin of each other. There are even massage tables where you can be professionally scrubbed by a therapist, for a fee. We realized afterward that there were actually vending machines in the locker room to dispense small scrubbing mitts in case you had forgotten to bring your own.
After we dried off, we went back to our lockers to get dressed again and went to meet the hubby in the lobby. We had been waiting about ten minutes before I saw him and flagged him over to where we were sitting. He looked a little shaken, but none the worse for wear. The poor guy had had to experience the whole thing by himself - if you don't count the dozens of Korean men that were in there with him.
We left the spa, hailed a cab, and headed for home. Relaxed? Yes! Enlightened a bit more about Korean culture? Indubitably! Excited about the next jimjilbang experience? Ummmm.... Still weirded out about being naked in front of a plethora of strangers while we lounged together in a hot tub? You bet!!!
A friend we met at orientation came to visit us this weekend. Original plans fell through, so after our visit to the art gallery in Cheonan, which was small but full of some interesting pieces, we decided to make an impromptu visit to the famous hot springs spa for which our Korean hometown, Asan, is well known.
First, perhaps, I should lay out some information on spas in Korea. They are called jimjilbangs, and Koreans frequent them quite often. Here is a little bit on jimjilbangs a la Wikipedia:
"A Jjimjilbang (찜질방) is a large, gender-segregated public bathhouse in Korea, furnished with hot tubs, showers, Finnish-style saunas, and massage tables. Jjimjil is derived from the words meaning heated bath. However, in other areas of the building or on other floors there are unisex areas, usually with a snack bar, ondol-heated floor for lounging and sleeping, wide-screen TVs, exercise rooms, ice rooms, heated salt rooms, PC bang, noraebang (karoake), and sleeping quarters with either bunk beds or sleeping mats. Many of the sleeping rooms can have themes or elements to them. Usually Jjimjilbangs will have various rooms with different temperatures to suit your preferred relaxing temperature. They inlay the walls with different woods, minerals, crystals, stones, and metals. This is to make the ambient mood and smell more natural. Often the elements used have traditional Korean medicinal purposes in the various rooms."
My thoughts were, "Well, that small description will prepare me for what I am about to experience, right?" Come on, folks, this is Korea! Nothing can prepare you for what you will encounter here!
After an incredibly long bus ride, we finally decided to just grab a taxi and head over to the spa. It was a good thing we took a cab, by the way, since the distance between where I thought the spa was and where it actually is was a good seven or eight kilometers (about five miles for you 'Mericans out there). When the taxi driver passed the place where I was sure the spa was supposed to be and headed out for the Asan countryside, I admit that my imagination began to create awful scenarios in which I had led my unsuspecting husband and friend into a foreigner's nightmare. I pictured myself having to carry out swift ninja-like punishments on the gang of cab drivers/thieves who were going to assault us and force us into their lives of organized crime as their English-speaking counterparts. OK. Maybe that's a little extreme. Let's just say I was nervous I had not communicated effectively and we were going to end up in the middle of nowhere with a gigantic fare to pay.
When I saw the sign for the spa, thankfully written in English as well as Hangul, I breathed a sigh of relief and stopped worrying we were going to have to hitchhike our way home, penniless and without a Korean phrase book. We uttered our thanks to the taxi driver, paid about 12 bucks for what would've been a $30 cab ride in NYC, and went inside.
For 8,000 won, about $8, we gained admission and were given some sort of numbered, electronic key card that you wear around your wrist like a watch. With this, we were able to open our first locker, a shoe locker. Remember that, in Korea, you must take off your shoes before entering an indoor area. After we deposited our shoes, we headed out to find the locker rooms. When we found them, we parted company, agreeing to meet in the lobby in two hours. The Hubby went off alone to the men's area, and our friend and I proceeded to join the rest of the women.
We walked into the locker room where rows and rows of numbered lockers greeted us. There had to have been at least 4000 lockers in all. Here's where I started to realize I wasn't in Kansas anymore, Toto. Women of all ages, shapes, sizes, etc. were all walking around. Completely. Stark. Naked. Not a stitch, friends. And no self-consciousness to boot. My friend and I found our lockers, looked at each other, shrugged, and then stripped. Talk about vulnerable! When in Rome, though. When we started for the actual spa area, I saw some small towels, which Koreans use as bath towels, but which are roughly the size of hand towels in the States. About two feet by one foot. As soon as I saw them, I grabbed one to try to preserve a modicum of modesty. It didn't cover much, but it provided the smallest bit of security. Then we went to the shower area. You are supposed to shower before entering the rest of the spa area. Afterwards, I looked around, my eyes huge and mouth gaping, as I saw what looked like an all female nudist colony on vacation. In the larger area were about ten small pools. Some had whirlpools and were called "health baths," some had just still, hot spring water, some were cold (for contracting your pores once the hot baths had opened them), and a couple were filled with green liquid, which we found out (from one woman who was very kind and spoke English with us) were infused with some sort of healing herb. (The Hubby, reading this entry over my shoulder, has just informed me, with chagrin, that the men did not have a healing herb bath. Guess the ladies are special.) We tried a little time in each type of pool and all the saunas as well. There was a "fog room" (steam room), a regular sauna, and a charcoal room in which large logs of charcoal lined the walls and gave off a sort of earthy aroma therapy. In each room was a little hourglass with sand, which you were supposed to flip over when you entered to ensure that you stayed there just the right amount of time.
I have to say, too. I am already stared at in Korea a lot, due to my freckled, fair skin and red hair, but it is really disconcerting for everyone to stare at you while you are totally naked. It was pretty surreal. As I looked around while soaking, though, I realized that this whole naked bathing thing was so not out of the ordinary for everyone - except for me and my American friend. Kids played in the cooler pools, splashing around and having fun; grandmothers and mothers relaxed and chatted while keeping one eye trained on the kids. It was like a normal day at the pool in the U.S. Except for the nakedness.
After about one hour, we decided that two had been a little ambitious, and went to the last area - the scrubbing area. The scrubbing area consisted of faucets with moveable shower heads placed in front of mirrors, giant pump bottles full of body wash, and buckets, which had been turned over to provide seats. Here, the women scrub away to exfoliate their skin, and often the skin of each other. There are even massage tables where you can be professionally scrubbed by a therapist, for a fee. We realized afterward that there were actually vending machines in the locker room to dispense small scrubbing mitts in case you had forgotten to bring your own.
After we dried off, we went back to our lockers to get dressed again and went to meet the hubby in the lobby. We had been waiting about ten minutes before I saw him and flagged him over to where we were sitting. He looked a little shaken, but none the worse for wear. The poor guy had had to experience the whole thing by himself - if you don't count the dozens of Korean men that were in there with him.
We left the spa, hailed a cab, and headed for home. Relaxed? Yes! Enlightened a bit more about Korean culture? Indubitably! Excited about the next jimjilbang experience? Ummmm.... Still weirded out about being naked in front of a plethora of strangers while we lounged together in a hot tub? You bet!!!
9/12/2012
Tackling Taejosan, Twisted
8 September 2012
On Saturday, we went to Cheonan, a bigger city next to Asan,
where we live. There, we hiked up
Taejosan, one of the smaller mountains in Korea. It was my first time to actually hike up a
real mountain. Initially, I was
thinking, “Come on. How different can it
be from hiking in Broken Bow, Oklahoma?”
Ummm…the answer is…pretty different.
To get to the actual hiking trail, we had to walk up a really long paved
road, which in and of itself was pretty steep. I have to admit that I was already huffing and
puffing a bit in spite of the fact that I jog almost daily. When we got to the top of the paved section,
there was a really beautiful temple.
The
colors they use on temples here are amazingly vibrant.
After resting under the guise of taking lots
of pictures, I began the trek up the mountain.
I tried to stay to the back so as not to slow anyone else in
the group down although I wasn’t doing a horrible job of keeping up and was
only slightly abashed when this seventy-five year old man in full hiking
regalia whizzed past me, taking with him my mountaineer-ing dignity.
 |
| Cleverly disguised cell phone tower |
I was happily climbing along when suddenly I
stepped onto a tree root that was rising from the ground a bit. As my ankle started to move forward, my foot
stayed where it was. A sharp intake of
breath preceded the minor expletive that escaped my lips (don’t worry Mom; it
was only a minor one). My hiking
companions turned to see what had happened only to find me bent from the waist,
clutching my twisted ankle. After the
initial surprise, I realized it wasn’t really that bad. I probably just needed to pay closer
attention to the path in front of me. I
assured everyone that I was fine and just needed to walk it out, and we
continued.
When we finally reached the peak, we looked out over the
city of Cheonan, which is much bigger than I would have thought. I had a similar, but opposite, reaction to
New York City when I moved there. I had
always thought of NYC as this huge, overwhelming place only to discover that
the island of Manhattan itself was so much smaller than I had initially
expected. Cheonan is a sprawling city
with various, smaller pockets of commerce and residential buildings. It is similar to Dallas in this way. It is spread out so much as to make public
transportation take a distant second place to the convenience of a personal
vehicle, as we have been discovering during our time here so far. Good thing I like to read on buses J.
On the way down the mountain, I was talking too much, and,
sure enough, I twisted the same ankle again.
This time, I went down for a good three or four minutes while the Hubby
and our friend looked for a walking stick for me to use as I navigated the
descent. I only hope the scene didn’t
too closely resemble that Family Guy episode where Peter Griffin is lying on
the ground, constantly moaning and grunting in pain for an exorbitant amount of
time. I am proud to say, though, I
sucked it up and kept going. I felt a
little Gandalf-like with my staff (or large tree branch, however you like to
refer to it) and, in spite of my swelling ankle, had an overwhelming urge to
yell, “You shall not pass!” to the family of Korean hikers passing me in the
other direction. I refrained.
The way down the mountain seemed even more difficult than the
way up, not only because of my ankle, but also due to the vast amounts of rocks
in various sizes that littered the path.
It took all my strategic ability to place my support branch in exactly
the right spot so as not to injure myself all over again. Finally, I met the rest of the group at our
main destination – a gigantic statue of Buddha nestled on the side of the
mountain. It took me aback as I rounded
the corner to see the large figure looming overhead. It really was quite impressive. We took more pictures and started down the
paved road that led to the foot of the mountain.
After the hike, we ate at a vegetarian buffet nearby and then,
exhausted, headed home to our little apartment where the Hubby found some
frozen blueberries in the fridge to wrap around my ankle. Be assured, however, I am healing nicely (but
I admit, I have milked it for all it’s worth J).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)