Seoul. Small Town Girls meet the Big City.

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

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.

International TreX Games. Busan 2008

Another whip whirlwind weekend adventure allowed us to travel south to Busan. This city by the sea is more like an overflowing metropolis strung along by bright lights and race car commuters. I, along with a cluster of climbers slash English teachers had the ultimately unique opportunity to participate in the 2008 International TreX games as sport climbers! The name comes from a blending of Tr from Traditional, e from e-sports and x from extreme sports (that's me!). The event is promoted as a “global community sports festival” only recently adding relatively new sports in addition to culturally traditional sports.

Along with Pro skaters, BMX junkies, inline skate fanatics, we were stuffed into BEXCO waiting to try our callused hands at the colourful plastic oh-so precisely drilled in front of our eyes.
Now, not to divulge how extraordinary we all climbed the puzzling V5 problems, our competition was stiff. Watching Popeye-armed Asian women campus up the 45 degree construction gave me hope in the double X chromosome. Not only the women, but the men as well put us westerners to shame. Regardless of the results, we sure were able to entertain ourselves (especially on the all night pub crawl that followed delivering us to the sunrise). Fun. That word seems to flood out of my mouth at every turn of a corner still.

I have been reminded of two things this weekend. First, always try to find the moments that make you smile in every situation and second, once the competition is over don’t hesitate to let your inner beast unleash. The competition was an incredible, a once in a life time opportunity.

http://english.trex2008.co.kr/

Korean Tourism at its best!

Cheosak, Seoraksan, Climbing, Camping and Busing

The days roll by and my English gets progressively s-l-o-w-e-r, due the fact that slower might help make me understood. I have yet to see the benefits of sounding stupid.

I have however taken to my habit of frantic weekend warrior bus rides with hundred pound packs in order to camp and climb surrounded by green trees and laughs from lips of new acquaintances. Sweat and stink are relished comforts and showers seem foreign after the two day pause-from-reality binge. Oh, how could I live without it?

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to grace the green space of jagged peaks like tyrannosaurus teeth in Korea's most famous and often considered most beautiful, Seoraksan National Park. Our Multi-pitch team of 3 girls (Kat, Lindsay and myself) and rope gun Jonathan the German exploited stowed energy from servings of bibimbap (mixed fungus and seaweed rice bowl) to propel us up a trad-slab-crack-chimney 7 pitch heaven. Tough. We all grunted and groaned through our sincere smiles as we pulled on aid slings and hung on hanging belay death triangles!!! (not really deadly - they just appeared that way. Come on, safety first and obviously we survived to tell the story!)

Monday was Cheosak (Thanksgiving), the biggest Korean holiday of the year, deserving no less than a three-day long weekend. On this particular holiday Monday, the punctual local bus swept Daphne, I and our hundred pound packs away as our breath was left in the dust (I have to emphasis the heaviness of our back breaking packs - we need to pack smarter) So close to the rocky beasts that engulf sky and vibe is the beach. The Sea of Japan. It hugs the coast of Sokcho, the hip and salty town in the north of Gangwon-do which gets you pretty close to the infamous border of North Korea. Mind the barbed wire.

Tomatoes?

I have yet to begin teaching in all its sincerity. Because I am teaching at 4 different schools (yes, 4), I have many people to meet and systems to learn. At least the powers that be are allowing me this time to soak up the whos and whats and hows.

I visited the Principal's office today. Choi Jong-Sung was ever so delighted to try and communicate with me in one word English intermittently broken through a stream of fast fire Korean. In our short but smiled faced visit, I learned and understood little. "Tomatoes" was one word that he kept repeating. I tried to decipher the relevance of "tomatoes" within our discussion, but the reason would soon be answered as he motioned me to follow him.

We walked out of his plush office filled with leather seats for each teacher, through the white sulfur scented halls and down the stairs through the back door of the school, quite a large school I might add for a village of 3000. Out the back of the school, surrounded by rich farm land were two large, well tended greenhouses. "Tomatoes?" I asked. A huge smile reached across his face from ear to ear and a short chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes, my work" he said. I was too smiling in my own right as the connection had been made. There they were, under the humid white umbrellas, vines upon vines of ripe red tomatoes. In my mind, I was quickly transported to the rural prairies of Saskatchewan with a twist. He began combing the vines for the biggest, juiciest red fruits. As he picked them with diligent care, he handed them to me. When his excitement had subsided a little, we added the tomatoes that were spilling from my arms to another box that was already full. Then he gave the box to me and said "Your house".

He had just given me a huge box full of Korean tomatoes, a box I would never eat before they would go bad. The continuous generosity of the Korean people impresses me greatly. It helps with my slap in the face culture shock that I experience daily.

I have since brainstormed on all the wonderful things I can do with these tomatoes. First, the majority, sun-dried tomatoes, just like the sun-dried chili peppers that fill the sidewalks with bursts of red on the corner of every street. Then, the ever missed fresh salsa Mexicana, pasta sauce, tomato juice, etc. If you have any ideas, let me know.

Taking it all in.

They really through you in the thick of it here in Korea. By taking the bus or any means of transportation, I am forced to rely on my childhood charade skills. Nervous laughter accompanies slow moving mouths, simple one word English (with incessant repetition) and stick man drawings to ensure I am understood. Even if they understand what I am asking, there is still the misunderstanding of why on earth I would want that!?! This is the cultural divide. Basing my other cultural reference point mostly on Mexico, even though you could never really begin to compare two insanely complex cultures as it would be next to impossible, schedules here seem to be more punctual in general. The air carries a fast paced energy and politeness is of utmost importance. People here treat their English teachers with great respect. I feel like royalty. In some small way, they believe we are the key to their country's future.

Being schooled on the many stages of culture shock, I am put in my place. Understanding the logic of the east on paper by no ens leaves me exempt from the stifling effects of the way things are. I can bravely admit that culture shock has me firmly in its clutches at present. The language barrier being at the forefront.

Today is Monday. On Saturday I courageously travelled outside my little village of 3000 to visit Daphne. She lives in Yeoungwol. Now I am headed back home. I am going to school today even though I have a week before I begin teaching. A week to plan, a week to adjust, a week to take it all in.

My first day in RURAL Gangwon-do, South Korea.

I was wearing little gold satin slippers when I heard a "rap rap rap" at the door. From behind the frosted glass window next to it came a soft voice with a thick Korean accent. "The Vice Principal wants to see you right now"
"He wants to see me now" I thought? I just woke up. I am in my pyjamas. Nonetheless, he couldn't wait until I arrived at the school and was excitedly standing at the front door of my home ready to greet me at 6:30 in the morning on the first day of school.

I arrived in South Korea 4 days ago. After our orientation for new foreign teachers in Seoul, I had felt I could really adapt to this. My long time friend and travel buddy, Daphne and I were with another four hundred other Native English speaking teachers ready to embark on another adventure of our lives. Now, I sit alone in Juncheon. I don't even know where I am and I have never heard of this place. Twelve hours ago, Daphne and I believed we would be teaching close to each other. Not teaching at the same school, but at least close enough to go for an evening stroll and discuss the intensities of being plunged into the unknown without a clue as how to communicate with the people around us. Shortly after this dream was shattered, we were ripped apart with hopeful looks of "will I ever see you again?" emanating from our confused faces as our sweet Korean Co-teachers pulled us into our respective cars and sped off. Apparently we would only be living forty minutes apart by car. By car! Neither of us had a car and in this deeply rural mountainous countryside in the province of Gangwon-do, buses would be much less than frequent.

In the thick of Korean Madness, I am beginning to become accustomed to not knowing anything at all times. Culture Shock is very real here yet I indulge in it's intensity. I am building a new muscle in my hand, a muscle I never knew I had. These skinny metal chopsticks proove to work the fingers well, good for building hand jamming muscles. Faces down in ceramic bowls of Mag gug seu, slirps and horks accompany the sound of Korean chatter all around me. Suddenly a fellow co-worker on my right says "The most impressive thing about Canada to me is the naked woman dance". I almost choke on my over spiced noodles. As I look at him with his serious facial expression, it takes me a moment to realize he is talking about the strip club, or at least I think. To say the least, the conversation subsequently ended.

Well. I did it. I bought my first TRAD RACK (regardless of the ridiculas state of debt I am presently in...). In fact, it was more like a double trad rack. Why not... As I head for South Korea and the Mountains of Seoraksan and all over Gangwon-do in South Korea I will need some natural protection! Crack climbing, here I come. Oh I am so very pumped!

I spent a week with my lovely family in Regina, Saskatchewan. Nostalgia ruled the air as I coasted on the flat roads secretly searching for faces from the past. The Regina Folk Festival allowed me an up close and personal concert from The Weakerthans, a prairie indie/folk band with punk rock roots from Winnipeg. Ohh they are good.

So, nine more days and off I go to Korea, accompanied by a beautiful Daphne Macdonald.

An array of memories and reflections

As I visit with family and old friends, I realize that I am soon about to begin a HUGE adventure! South Korea awaits and I causously make Visa arragements and organize my bags, boxes and thoughts in my home town of Regina, Saskatchewan...

Living in a tent is a precious gift. a good choice. Before I leave this vast country, I will head back to Squamish to give 'er one last pull down. (I hope the highway has been cleared from the landslide that cut the little town off from the rest of civilization - a crisis - or so it appears to be).

The VW is still waiting for a quote in Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua. Yes, not a surprise that they are having difficulty finding parts for the 1972 classic - write it off I say and spare the hassle of having to deal with a van that is on the other side of the world as me. The Jeep is waiting to be imported - I have to drive back to the US border to pay taxes. hmmp - only a short 3 hour gas guzzling drive.

But, in the end, I continue on a vagabond road like the wild wind, always changing on a whim. As I bump and merge, fire and fuse, my smile widens with the freedom to choose.

A masterpiece dream of climbing and taking whippers infiltrates my head space as a few friends and I boogie till we puke at the Squamish Mountain Festival. I had to indulge in a little offwidth climbing to work the body and test that #6 camalot, just to be sure!