Friday morning we whisked ourselves away to the river’s edge. The Han river, boasting scents of fish and whiffs of rotten crotch elevated our sense of smell like a fat slap in the face from some bitch from high school. Shocking and appalling, but you can do anything about it. As soon as we had accepted this reality, a crisp pine needle breeze and fresh baked baguettes would waft past our noses clearing our heads and minds. The mix of city smells never ceases to amaze me. Too bad there is no “scent recorder” to share with all of you. Renting rusty cruiser bicycles from some 1970’s garage sale with bent metal baskets allowed us to discover the action of holiday independence day in motion. 
Family Picnickers tapping badminton birdies into the sky, lovers hand in hand on strolls with sun umbrellas to shelter the sear of the September sun, Koreans training for triathlons decked out in full fledged bike attire and carefree drunkards relishing in the extra day away from the office whizzed past as we traversed the grand waterway in style. My sea foam green machine was no less thrilled at the 48 km push as its back tire screamed a whopping “I Quit!”. Flat as flat can be, tube inching out of the rim as I forced my quads to push the pedals harder, my face began to distort as teeny grunts escaped my lips with every revolution. Luckily we secretly switched the antique for a newer shiny red cruiser at the last station before we had to turn around and head all the way back. Needless to say, a long day on a bike seat really pushes the pain tolerance of ones sit bones.
BASEBALL! When is the last time you saw a live hard hitting action packed Pro Baseball game? Well, Saturday night was our game. Vacuum packed like sardines or freeze dried astronaunt food, thousands of screaming, chanting dressed up fanatics squeezed into Korean largest baseball stadium. With friendly faces all around us, and full to the brim with a Hite in each hand (the local Korean lager), we cheered the players on! A lovely time spent catching up on the seasons hits and misses as our new friend Joon gave us a play by play action. Whenever people all around the world indulge in live sports, the fatty snack food accompanies. But, why on earth would you want dehydrated soft squid leg breathing out of the mouths of everyone that surrounds you? Not quite sure. I guess it is like garlic. You eat it then I eat it and when we kiss, no biggie. 
Cheap as every dirt-bag is, our search for a scummy motel ended at the front doors to a basement jjimjilbang. For those of you who have never experienced a “public bath” in Korea, I exceedingly recommend such an activity. Basically spa slash sauna slash hot tub slash sleep on the floor in an attic with no blanket hostel can sum it up nicely. Here clothes are less than optional, they are not permitted. Of course, with men and women divided, there is no need to be shy. Young, old and all sized naked bodies freely roam the establishment. You pay a minimal fee and can stay as long as you like. You can also sleep as long as you like in case of needing to nourish a hangover from a little too much Hite from the night before. First you trade your shoes for a locker key, making sure there is no sneaking out. 
After given an orange over sized t-shirt and matching shorts your mom might have worn in the 80’s, you head into the “locker room”. For your comfort, the heated floors invite bare feet. A small clothing store and any trial size soap, face mask or beauty remedy you could dream up are available for purchase along with a variety of drinks from the standing-up, sliding-door cooler. With your basic necessities covered, really, why would you ever leave. But, wait, I am getting to the good part. With your choice of massage table and three pools, temperatures selectively adjusted from 25 degrees (the winter shocker), 40 degrees (the social warm up) and 43 degrees (the severe sweat ball), you are golden. Not to mention the searing steam room and sultry sauna. This place was all news to us. In fact, goodies were popping up all over the place. Along with our frantic guessing and bursts of laughter, we were schooled in the jjimjilbang by Korean aficionadas. At one point, Daphne had thought she hit the jackpot! “Oh, what’s this? Free stuff? Face masks, shampoo, pumice stones and wait… a hair ball?!?!” She had excitedly found and with detail, plowed through the bathroom garbage! Sick and so freekin hilarious! This was one definite highlight of our perplexed little white girl syndrome.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jjimjilbang
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jjimjilbang
Saturday provided us with searches for Indian spices and international food medleys in the labyrinth of the Seoul Subway. Surprisingly convenient and straightforward, we never once got lost. (I am currently teaching my students directions, the “I can’t speak Korean and I am lost” theme seems to make them chuckle – imagine it dramatized.) One of the main missions for this big city weekend was to pick up some things that small towns just don’t have. The Foreign Food Mart tickled our lust for lost diversity in the food we Canadians so innocently take for granted. Cardamom, Curry, Pickles and Corn Tortilla Chips filled my basket fast. Being a vegan in Korea forces creativity and even though I cook for myself, with little to no spices, the tastes of picked cabbage, sesame oil and red chili can bore you quickly. (I am creative and I am taking vitamins!)
After spending over the budget, our packs were stuffed like stockings after Santa on Christmas morning. No one likes to carry a big backpack around (this time, not so heavy, just big) so we decided to take advantage of the digitally secure lockers at the subway station. Now with the instructions being in Korean, we needed a little help from the ticket agent. He was so helpful as he patiently waited for us to stuff our foreign splurge inside. “Is everything in the locker” I asked as both Daphne and I double checked. “yes, yes”. After closing the locker, we thanked the agent for his help, however he looked at us surprisingly. In his broken English he pointed towards the floor, “Are you forgetting something?”. To my disbelief, laying in a crumpled ball between the three of us were my thong underwear. Dirty or clean, I can never say. Faster than peeling off a whipper unexpectedly, I snatched up my intimates and Daphne burst into gut busting laughter. Not knowing what to do, both the ticket agent and I headed off in opposite directions. Now, we were one for one. Add this to another symptom of the perplexed little white girl syndrome.
Ps. The naked baby meets balding Buddha was only one example of a gut busting sight seen on a busy street in Itaewon, Seoul.
