Last Day in Korea

Today is our last full day in Korea. Movers are coming this afternoon to take away everything our schools have purchased, which is to say everything but cheap, plastic dinnerware and someone's discarded mattress I carried in from the parking lot. It is going to cost us 8 bucks (8,000 wan) to throw away the mattress. We will sleep on the mattress tonight and then get rid of it tomorrow morning.

Yesterday I had my last workout at my gym. To get there, I walked through the same neighborhood I jogged around my first week in Korea. Since then, I have walked that same rubber sidewalk painted with baby animals through snow, ice, wind and scorching sun. I probably received more stares that first day jogging than any other. No one jogs here through neighborhoods. I kept circling the same blocks and the same old men and taxi drivers peered on incredulously.


Yesterday, I received only minimal stares, or maybe it's just that I don't pay as much attention anymore. At any rate, students waved and said hi and one student's mom riding a bike even said hello and called me by my first name. Our corner shopkeeper saw me walking the baby in the Moby yesterday, trying to calm her down. I was able to speak enough Korean to tell him her name, when she was born, and when our flight is scheduled to depart. I felt progress had been made. Of course, later in the day when I went to close my bank account, the teller still felt the need to get the interpreter on the phone. No matter how long I stay, I am convinced I will always be a foreigner.

There have been many farewell dinners over the past week or so, most of which come with the dual purpose of meeting the baby now that her Korean-style 30 day isolation period is up. At every dinner people want to ask me what I have learned from living in Korea, or what is the one thing I will remember most fondly. Of course, the best part about living here has been strengthening my relationship with Sami and learning how to live a married life. That answer probably doesn't satisfy their nationalistic curiosity, so I just tell them I love and will miss the food. And it is true, the food is great. I hope that I kind find all of the ingredients I need to make Korean food in markets back in the states. I hope I can find kimchi. I won't be looking for soju.

No Do-Overs

A kid's life is full of do-overs. I can remember countless games of one on one against my dad that wouldn't end until I was ahead. Video games would be stopped and re-started if a certain level wasn't reached, and high school teachers always encouraged make-up work. However, somewhere on the road to adulthood we are forced to accept that do-overs do not exist in real life, and all of that pretending just sets us up to think of ourselves as greater than we actually are. A college professor who draws a hard line on late work, a sales pitch gone bad, and your favorite team losing a much anticipated match-up all bluntly re-enforce this harsh reality.

I really wanted a do-over this morning. Just as my friend Kyle had predicted, my alma mater lost it's season opener against LSU. It was bad. We looked unprepared, undisciplined, sloppy and (the biggest sin of all for a Duck) slow. And so my time in Korea ends just as it had begun, and while this loss doesn't hurt as bad as the infamous LaGarrette Blount punch game, it deflates the feeling of excitement for the remaining eleven games in the same way.

While most Oregon fans re-hashed the game with friends, watched highlights on the atrocity on television, and soon went to bed, I had a full day of sulking ahead of me. Fortunately, our friends Connie, Steve and Angie came over to see the baby one last time and, unbeknownst to them, take my mind off of the loss. We have known Connie nearly our entire two years in Korea. Sami met her and one of our orientations, and we learned that she lives somewhat near us on the other side of town. Angie and Steve are an older Korean couple (those are their chosen English names) that have been very kind and welcoming to the three of us in our time here. Steve and Angie have incredibly positive and infectious attitudes, and are both smitten with our baby daughter. Tonight they ordered in for us and brought over ice-cream cake. We ate one of my favorite Korean foods- haemul chim, which is a spicy mix of seafood and bean sprouts, we are talking muscles, octopus, whole shrimp and big hunks of crab.  We were sad when the three of them left and we knew it would be a long time, if ever, before we will see them again.

Ice-cream cakes! Choco, cherry, blueberry and melon

Steve holding Charlie

Sami, Steve, Connie, Angie (barely visible)

Being an adult means that there are no do-overs. But it also is to know that good can be found in even the down days. Steve and Angie don't know anything about football. Most Koreans don't. But even they understand that there are always more games to be played. Some of them you win, and some of them you lose, but you can always bounce back. And you can always order ice-cream cake.

Driving Would Be Nice

Until this last month, I haven't missed my truck. I hadn't even missed driving. Long ago I successfully transitioned into the segment of world population dependent on public transportation and their own feet. My vehicle became just another one of the once-considered necessities of life left lost on the other side of the Pacific along with high definition television, DVR, canned chilli, good beer, pick-up basketball games and speaking quickly, barely moving my lips. Sure, I derive an occasional glint of satisfaction knowing that I have contributed my part in curbing carbon emissions, but really, everything I need is in walking distance anyway. School/work is three minutes away by foot, the bank five, the gym six and the grocery store seven or eight depending on how long crossing light takes and how heavy the grocery bag is. Life is good. Life was easy. Life was uncomplicated.

Then the baby came along and the simplest tasks that involve leaving the apartment turn into chokingly long, energy draining affairs of slow burning rage. For example: a visit to the hospital for a scheduled check-up (the baby has had three and Sami has had one so about one a week on average to now) includes the following: feeding before we leave, so that she doesn't fuss on the way there (up to an hour depending on much of a spaz she wants to be on the breast); getting her into the Moby wrap (10 minutes to figure out the damn thing, another 10 or 15 to get her in); walking to the subway (5 minutes); riding the subway (40 minutes); riding the shuttle bus to the hospital (5 minutes, although at first we didn't know about the shuttle bus so we walked for 15 minutes or so); waiting for the appointment (15 minutes depending on how early we arrive, say what you will about Koreans, they never keep you waiting); the actual check-up/vaccination (2 minutes); feeding the baby so that she doesn't fuss on the way back + a diaper change (20 minutes or so); shuttle bus back to the subway (5 minutes); waiting for the subway (10 minutes on average because we are on the train line and not one of the inter-city ones that run every 3 minutes); subway ride home (40 minutes); walk to the apartment (5 minutes). By the time we get home, I am dead dog tired.

Walking to the hospital, we get a good view of Namsan Tower which is one of the most recognizable sites in Seoul. I look like a nerdlinger, and you can't really see the baby or Namsan Tower in this picture though.

I look like this when we get home from an outing.

The hospital visits alone are enough to turn me into an old man, but because of our unique situation, we've had to take care of a few logistical necessities that require the presence of my increasingly fat and drooling daughter. The first step was getting her picture taken so that we could apply for a passport. The problem is, the subject in a valid passport photo is required to have their eyes open. As you could imagine, this was no easy task because, as a newborn, she pops her peepers about as often as I bathe which is only a couple of times a week. When she wouldn't wake up, we had to resort to placing an ice cube on her foot, which was cruel, but also kind of funny to see her reaction.

Trying to get baby Charlie to open her eyes for the passport photo.

To make matters worse, we had a terrible time trying to find a place that takes passport photos. The one place we had been to before in our neighborhood mysteriously closed down, so I ran all over looking for another location while wearing jeans on the hottest day of the year. Of course, the US Embassy, which we went to the next day to apply for her passport and social security number, was much easier to find. However, that trip presented its own unique set of problems. First off, baby was hungry and started fussing beyond my powers of distraction. She absolutely had to be fed and was causing a scene so I talked Sami into feeding her in the waiting area with a blanket covering her. This is something I never would have dreamed of doing about a year ago. I was one of those guys who would get super uncomfortable around a breastfeeding mother and, if I were around certain company, would probably even crack a sick joke. "Hey, I could use a little milk in my coffee come to think of it." But now it's like, all joking aside, this needs to get done and now. From now on, if I see a breastfeeding mother, I will just give her a knowing wink. Actually, no. That is a bad idea. Let's move on.

When she was done eating and I set her on the ground to swaddle her, a young hippie looking guy asked:

"Is she like, hours old?"

I instinctively gave him my best "areyoueffingkiddingme?" look. Aren't we all hours old, you mongoloid Spicolli?

Honestly though, I am pretty sure I can handle everything famously if it weren't for the people on the subway. As I have too often mentioned, being white (or anything non-Korean actually) is kind of like having two mouths. People try not to look, but they can't help themselves. I don't really mind the young girls who giggle and take pictures of our baby with their camera phones, and I don't mind most of the elderly women who touch the baby and smack my hand out of the way to get a better look. What I can't stand are the judgmental old folks who think we are terrible for bringing the baby out of the house (in Korea babies stay isolated with their mothers for 30 days. Tradition trumps science here.) and tell us that we are holding her all wrong. One old guy was convinced that the Moby cradle wrap I had her in was bad for her neck, even though it was perfectly fine and she was sleeping peacefully in the hold like, well, a baby. I smiled and told him that she was fine, but he insisted. It took everything I had not to go Hannibal Lector and take a bite of cheek. See, it would be safer for all involved if I could just drive away.

Chungcheongbuk-do Part Two

Click Here for Part One

I woke up early, before any of my roommates, walked outside into the blinding reflection of sun scorched gravel, and was greeted by a reminder of bad decisions from a night before. Off to the side of our cabin lay two aluminum beer cans punctured at the bottom. The night before I played the role of American drinking ambassador, and attempted to teach my Korean friend and co-worker how to shotgun a beer. After the deed was complete, my drinking buddy put a hand to his belly and, through a frown, muttered "pull." "Pull," of course, is the Korean pronunciation of the word "full."

We came upon our pension late the night before, and because of the darkness, I was not aware that where we slept overlooked a lake. So much of our sightseeing in Korea has been spent at overcrowded festivals, so it is nice to experience places in "The Land of the Morning Calm" that resemble Korea's exonym.

At around 9:00am we all boarded the bus and drove around the perimeter of the lake to one of the few restaurants around. Breakfasts in Korea aren't that different from other meals- usually consisting of soup, rice, and other side dishes.

Out the side of the restaurant I spied a dog chained to his dog house, so of course I had to joke, "there is our breakfast." Most of the time no one laughs or they just ignore me.

Breakfast was a variation of "Kongnamulgook bap" which is a beansprout soup. Most people, including myself, add white rice (that is what is inside the small metal bowl on the left) to the soup. It is supposed to be great for curing hangovers, and I agree with the assessment. During the meal, I sat across from the bus driver, who gulped down his breakfast in record time. Unbeknownst to him, he also taught me a useful way to use my eating utensils. Normally, when I needed to use my spoon instead of chopsticks, I would lay my sticks down across a bowl or rest the tips on a piece of tissue. Here, I saw him hold the chopsticks in the crook of his hand, way down at the base of the thumb and palm leading to his index finger. With the tips of the fingers on the same hand, he handled his spoon. Brilliant.

A view of the inside of the restaurant we ate breakfast in.

There are only five male teachers at my school, so we all roomed together along with the bus driver. Two of our crew chose sleep over breakfast (the only two out of everyone), so we brought them back a couple of servings. The restaurant charged the equivalent of about five bucks for the packaging, which we all agreed was excessive, but I guess they can get away with it given the sparse competition.

We had an hour or so after breakfast until the time we were supposed to leave so I decided to hike the trail behind our cabin. No one else wanted to go, saying that it was too hot, so I went by myself. I think they were all just hung over.

It felt good to get some exercise and sweat out some of the alcohol from the night before. Cicadas violently rattled and buzzed along the way, and I saw plenty of green dragonflies and grasshoppers, but I wasn't able to get the perfect picture of the lake I was hoping for. Densely packed skinny pines blocked my view at every potential lookout.

On the way down, I began to worry that I was late. I didn't bring my watch with me, an kept hiking up to find the perfect viewpoint that never materialized. Finally, I gave up and started back at as a fast a pace as I could muster. I had a couple of slips along the way, mostly because I kept taking pictures, and had to remind myself not to do anything stupid like tumble and die and never see what my first child looked like.

I did make it back in time, and when I walked back into the cabin I was drenched in sweat. The boys looked at me like I was a freak, because for whatever reason, Koreans just don't sweat that much. Maybe their bodies are more adapted to the humidity or something. I cooled off in front of the air conditioner despite protests from my roommates that I would catch a cold. We barely made it to the bus on time because one of the teachers took forever primping in front of the mirror. He was only wearing a hat for godsake, but I guess he had to make sure that his triangular sideburns looked just so. After an hour or so on the bus we stopped at this rest stop and took a group picture in front of this outcropping of rocks.

 

 

 

There was a shopping center inside, and I found this map of the resort around the lake.

At the rest stop, someone purchased these strawberry frozen yogurts for each of us.

Our destination was this historical site in Jecheon. I don't know too much about it, other than everything inside was moved or re-built at this current location to make room for a dam built in 1983.

There was a traditional Korean "hanoak," or house, which my Vice Principal told me mirrored exactly how Koreans lived only 50 years ago. Seemed centuries old to me based on all of the modern technological necessities I see on a daily basis. This here is a wood fire stove, the pot in the middle is used to steam rice.

Out back stood some of the jars Koreans use to "cook" their famous fermented foods like pepper and bean paste. This method is still widely used today and you find these jars everywhere.

While most of the crowd congregated to chat, took a short hike up to an outcropping of pagodas inside of a recreated fortress wall and took pictures of the surrounding area.

Afterward, I walked back down to one of the main pagodas, where most of the teachers were conversing in small groups. A random family of tourists were present also and their two daughters were intrigued by the strange, sweaty foreign man sitting among the crowd. I waved and introduced myself and they hit shyly behind their father's back.

There were also some ancient tombs inside the compound.

This was just too interesting not to photograph.

Finally, we visited our last restaurant of the trip. Everyone was pretty worn out by this time, and ready to go home.

Next to where I sat, there was this stuffed and encaged wild suckling pig. Weird.

We ate this variation of bibimbap, which is a mixed rice. I added lots of spicy pepper paste to mine As everyone says when they see me eating spicy food, I am a true Korean.

Chungcheongbuk-do Part One

On Tuesday I celebrated the start of summer break by joining my fellow Guji Elementary school faculty and staff members on an overnight trip to Chungcheongbuk-do Province. Chungcheongbuk-do is south of Gyeonggi-do, and is the only landlocked province in South Korea. I have tried my best to remember the names of the places and towns we visited on the trip, but it hasn't been easy, and I may mess up here or there. One thing I won't forget is what a great send off it was for me, as I prepare to reassimilate to the states in a few weeks' time. The weather was perfect (after weeks of hot, endless rain), the food was incredible and the people, of course, are unforgettable.

The first restaurant we stopped at for lunch was the only place I didn't take pictures of. I regretted leaving my camera on the bus when I saw the spread of food the ajumas brought out. Korean cuisine is famous for its banchan (side dishes), but this was overkill. They actually brought out table tops loaded with dozens of communal plates that they slid onto the empty tables we occupied. It was crazy watching them skillfully maneuver the carts used to wheel the tops. The meal was great- whole fish prepared two ways, pork belly, tofu soups and kimchi galore, but I can't help but pity the person responsible for washing all those tiny dishes.

It wasn't too long after we got back on the bus that our vice principal queued up the karaoke machine. Actually, it started when one of the teachers in charge of the logistics of the trip (the youngest or rookie teachers) came up to me and asked me to pick a song to sing. I thought that I could get out of it by saying that I was shy, but it didn't work. Eventually, I had to step up and belt out some Peter Frampton. Karaoke is funny here, everyone just steps up to the plate and does it. The best singers usually make a show like: "no, no, not me, I am no good." and then they step up and just kill like an Asian Tom Jones or Tina Turner.

Here is my VP up at the front of the bus getting the karaoke started. The best part is the images they show on the screen that have absolutely nothing to do with the words the scroll below. Sometimes during a soft love song you will get images of a car chase scene or something. No one seems to mind.

Our first destination was a ferry boat tour of what I believe was Chungjuho Lake. On the loading dock, I teased my friend Kwan Yang about his lack of a girlfriend, and when I saw one particularly attractive young female with a fat boyfriend, I told him that there is still hope for someone as pudgy as himself. It is nice to be able to joke around with someone, even if they don't completely get what you are saying. Anyway, here are some pics from the ride:

The weather was so nice that most people went out on the narrow deck to observe and take pictures. This was taken when the captain was making his announcement which of course, I understood none of.

Our next stop was to Gosudonggul Cave. This incredible cave is located near the film site of one Korea's most popular historical dramas. There is a huge set that looks just like one of the palaces in Seoul or Gyeonngju, but we walked right passed it to the entrance of the cave where we put on our hard hats. In the last year, I have visited some incredible caves, and they never cease to fascinate me. This one didn't have any bats, but I will always remember how cramped some of the tunnels were.

Walking down to the rack of hard hats which saved my dome more than once inside the cave that featured clearings less than three feet high. You can see the entrance of the cave off to the left in this picture.

More than any cave I have explored in the past year, this one had a solidly built walkway and hand rails. It even had this glass roof over a portion of the cave that receives continuous drippage from above.

After the cave, our next stop was to be the Guinsa Temple at Sobaeksan Mountains. We ate lunch earlier than normal and it became clear that with our pace and agenda, dinner would be late, so someone passed out ears of corn that they purchased from a streetside vendor. I had only tried Korean corn once, and it was gummy and I hated it, but the second time wasn't so bad. I think it is gummy because they steam the hell out of it.

At the temple I walked for a ways with my vice principal who saw a sign offering help to English speakers. I went inside and got set up with a personal tour guide- a young man from Ulsan. He told me of his plans to open a private English academy in Ulsan and said that the reason he visited the temple all the way up here was to pray for the future success of his new business. He is a Buddist of the Cheontae Order. The only thing I learned about that particular branch Of Buddhism is that female monks do not have to shave their heads. My tour was cut short when my vice principal said that we only had five minutes to get back to the bus, so my new friend kindly game me an English book with all sorts of info about the temple.

My tour guide was nice, but he insisted on having me pose for a picture on this spot. I tried to convey my thoughts on the unattractiveness of the construction site, but relented anyway.

At sunset we stopped off for dinner and a karaoke contest. The beers and soju started flowing at dinner, and I was asked to be a judge. Tipsy and clueless as to what constitutes a good Korean singer, I gave arbitrary scores- 99.876 and 99.875 for example. I did give out a 100 and a 101 to a couple of my favorite teachers, but it had nothing to do with their singing ability. Later, awards were given for the highest scores and for the worst singers as well.

Instead of sitting on the floor, we used these bad boys.

A spicy fish soup which was quite tasty.

My scorecard

Some panties were given out as awards. I have no idea why, but it was funny.

After the awards had been handed out half of the teachers took a bus home while the rest drove to the spot we would be staying for the night. We got to the "pension" which is what they call the outdoor sort of hotels or cabins in the countryside here after 10 or so. We six men had our own cabin and got started taking showers and watching baseball highlights. I didn't really feel the need to shower, but didn't want them thinking that all Americans are dirty slops, so I obliged. Then we met up with some other teachers and drank into the night. I used an excuse to sneak out early when my bedtime was near. I knew that the rest of the crew would be up until 3:30, but that just isn't in this old man's arsenal anymore. I was told I stayed up until after 2 in the morning, but I think they were just being nice.

The cabin the boys stayed in

Upstairs loft

Teacher party

I was proud to see that someone brought a bottle of wine from my neck of the woods. However, when I explained that I live near this vineyard, no one was that impressed. Also, the picture quality is terrible because I was good and drunk by this point.

Click Here for Part Two