Shanghai: Departure Day

May is the month of holidays in Korea. This last Saturday was Teacher's Day. One student gave me nice little fake pink carnation boutineer. One class presented me with a gift box consisting of two overly packaged pairs of Pierre Cardin dress socks (which must be a popular gift because two different co teachers gave me similar boxes of socks for Christmas). These gifts all come with handwritten letters. One reads:

"Dear. Joseph."

"Hello, Joseph. We are fifth grade classroom number 6.

Happy Teacher's Day! Thank you for teach us. We're learning fun for you. When we study with you, we're happy.


Please teach us good. We'll learn hard. And take care. Bye-bye.'

This Friday is Buddha's Birthday. Last weekend there was a huge Lotus Lantern Festival in Seoul. In typical Korean fashion, the streets were uncomfortably packed. We have Friday off, so we are going with some friends down to Busan for the long weekend. This will be our first trip to the country's second largest city located on t southern coast across from Japan.

Children's Day was on the fifth of this month, and Sami and I were lucky enough to have a five day weekend (many schools only had the Wednesday off). During this time, we visited Shanghai where we stopped by the World Expo, took a night river tour of the city, saw the acrobats, ate the dumplings, and much more which I plan on re-capping over the next series of entries.


We each had received permission to leave at 2:00 on Tuesday, instead of the usual 4:40 p.m., in order to make it to the airport in time for the 6:30 p.m. flight. I was ok with this because Tuesday is a full day for me. I would have classes up until it was time to leave which meant that the time would fly by. So when 10:00 a.m. rolled around any both my co-teacher and my 9:00 a.m. class hadn'td shown up, I figured something must have been going on. I am sure it sounds weird to read what I just wrote, but please keep in mind that I am always the last person to know what is going on. It is just something I have accepted. Just today I found out that I will be judging speeches tomorrow afternoon and one of my three classes has been moved. Whatever. Just keep feeding me tasties at lunch time and let me do yoga in the conference room for free with the other teachers on Friday.

Anyway, by 10 a.m. I decided to mosey on down the stairs and outside to the soccer field/track. Sure enough, half of the school was outside wearing their grade color (first grade: blue; second grade: neon green; third grade: yellow; fourth grade: orange)- some were running sprints and others were on the field doing some sort of relay with a giant beach ball. Apparently, my school's "Sports Day" was taking place.

I went back inside and put on my running shoes- hey, this might not go as fast as my classes, but it isn't a bad way to spend a last day before vacation. I jumped in and started timing the sprinters, escorting the first, second and third place runners to the correct line and ushering the loser kids away from my sight.

There wasn't a race that went by where a lost kiddo or two didn't stray into the lanes right in front of the oncoming sprinters. Many of the competitors mistakenly stopped before the finish line and all wore their soccer cleats, which I don't think is the best decision when running on a cement track.

The majority of the kids had smiles on their faces and weren't quite sure if they wanted to run fast, or just run along side their friends. Every now and then a serious competitor would come barreling down with a look of determination. When these kids broke the tape signifying a first place finish, they were inevitably met by a proud parent holding a camera with a lens the length of my arm.

In addition to herding the kittens into lines, I also got to fire the starter pistol for the relays and participate in a game with the parents and my principal. In this game the center circle of the soccer field was covered with cardstock which was red on one side and white on the other. My team's job was to turn all of the cards to red, while the the other team attempted to turn them white. When the whistle blew, the referee counted and their were more white cards than red. My team had lost. I felt disgraced. In hindsight, I should have just picked up all the cards and then held onto them until the last second. Live and learn.


On the subway to the airport, we met a nice elderly man in a Sean John shirt. He told us all about his world travels- how he was deported in Australia and robbed in Paris. It is strange, we never used to get approached by Koreans, but now it seems like we can't go anywhere without someone wanting to engage in conversation. It is either that the weather is changing or they can sense that we've been here for awhile.

At the airport, we had the typical argument about food. I was promised Subway, which I had been craving since last Sunday's episode of "The Biggest Loser" in which Subway paid for a sponsorship so the former fatties were obligated to put one of the '6 grams of fat or less' sandwiches down. Of course, when we got near our gate their was no Subway to be found- obviously this was Sami's fault. We settled for a delicious bowl of pho not knowing that we would later be served dinner on our 2 and a half hour flight (Asian airlines kick ass!).

On the plane, we both got a good laugh out of an advertisement for China Southern flight attendants. I wonder how well this would go over in the U.S.?

When we got off the plane, we were greeted by Haibao, the mascot of World Expo 2010. This was the first of about 100,000 Haibao sightings to come.

After customs, we hopped on the Maglev train- the fastest train in the world. During certain times of the day, it goes as fast as 413 km/hr- or about 286 mph (or roughly 5 million times faster than a fat fourth grade Korean girl on Sports Day). It shuttles people 18 miles to the airport in 7 minutes. When I worked in Portland and lived in Beaverton, it routinely took over an hour to go 18 miles!

Our hotel was not very far from the subway station in the heart of East Nianxing Rd in The Bund district. This meant that we only had to listen two people ask us if we want to buy a watch or a bag, and not two dozen.

We entered the hotel and walked toward the front desk. There was a European tourist arguing with the Chinese clerk. It is times like these where I am glad English is my first language. It is difficult enough trying to converse with someone using their second language. Imagine if both of you were using your second.

We went up to our room and unpacked our bags. It was around 9:00 p.m. when we looked outside at the neon red lights of Shanghai and decided to head out into the unknown.

Coming in Part 2- Acrobats and an attempted street scam

Ice Fishing

Spring has gradually made its way into Korea. I know because I went for a hike with my school on nearby Mt. Acha recently, and there were a couple of white puffs of cherry blossoms and lavender firecrackers of chimdele dispersed among bare branches and a gray, overcast background.

What is chimdele you ask? Well, I am not really sure. So here is a picture from the hike.

Maybe it is a hibiscus? Hibiscus is the national flower of South Korea, so I guess it could be. If you know, maybe you can let me know and I can stop writing about flowers and start writing about sports and guns and guy stuff.

The point is that spring took its time getting here. As I have mentioned before, Korea received more snow this winter than any other on record- most of which was dumped on our little town the night of our return flight from sunny Fiji. Most of the winter was brutally cold with winds blowing down from Siberia. There was one point in March where it started to warm up and give us hope, but the next day, eight inches of snow dropped. One day late last month even broke the record for coldest day in April.

Thinking back on the harsh season recently passed, I am reminded of one particular experience where we embraced the Korean cold. Instead of hibernating indoors, sprawled out on our heated apartment floor and indulging in the best programing the Armed Forces Network had to offer, we made our way up to Hwacheon, near the DMZ, to attend the Ice Festival.

The annual Ice Festival is held over the first three weekends (Thursday to Sunday) in January. During this time, over a million Koreans and a tiny sprinkle of foreign English teachers converge on a frozen man made lake stocked with farmed fish. This is contrary to my initial vision of peaceful ice fishing under a metal shack in the middle of nowhere.

 Not my idea of a relaxing day of fishing, but a memorable experience nonetheless.

The parking lot was elevated slightly higher than the ice, so we marched down into
the frozen fishing field and gazed in disbelief at the endless sea of dark haired anglers below. Once we reaced ice-level, we were each handed a fly swatter "pole" with a colored jig attached to heavy line and instructed to find a hole. After ten minutes and just as many accidental run-ins with the packed crowd, we found a spot.

 Me, holding my fly swatter and watching that man try to bludgeon a fish.

The way the Koreans presented their lures to the fish was unlike anything I had ever seen. They would jerk their fly swatters upward violently, let the lure drop for about five seconds, and then do it again. The reasoning, I later discovered, was to try and hook the poor fish on any part of its body that came within striking distance. I saw one man hook one by the tail.

After a solid hour of nothing (you know it is discouraging when you can look down into the ice hole and see the fish swimming below) I wandered off to a group of foreigners to try a bite of sashimi. Usually, I get excited about food, raw fish included, but on this trip I was sick and swollen with a sinus infection. The sashimi just tasted like cold, flavorless gummy worms to me. One foreigner commented that the fish was good, "fishy, but good." I remember thinking: "you are retarded."

Eventually, I gave up on the conventional fishing and joined Sami and the rest of our crew to try and catch a few with our hands. The bare hand fishing is one of the highlights of this festival, and attracts thousands of participants and even more spectators. All of our tour group changed into shorts and t-shirts and walked out into the cold barefoot to a wooden platform suspended over near freezing water. After the announcer made a few indecipherable jokes in Korean, he gave us the go to jump in. I tried my best to ignore the burning cold and trapped a fish along the outer edge. I dropped it down into my tucked shirt, reached down and grabbed another. And then another. I was impressed with how quickly I was able to snag my limit of three, but Sami insists that it was due in large part to her excellent "spotting."

I climbed out of the pool, into a pair of slippers, and shuffled toward the hot water station with fish flopping in front of my belly. Walking was a bit of a challenge. I had no feeling in my toes. Luckilly, the shallow, communal trough of scalding hot water warmed us and brought the feeling back to my feet.

Showing off our catch while thawing out in the hot water.

 

That night, we steamed the fish in foil over hot coals and ate them whole with chopsticks, Despite my taste limitations, I could appreciate how fresh and moist the fish was- not "fishy" at all.

Cambodia: More Temples

I'm baaaaack! Joe is in the kitchen mopping the floor. I can hear him scrubbing away and the sound is music to my ears. I am eating Digits, my favorite Korean cookies (basically a graham cracker with chocolate on the bottom), and trying to remember what happened to us after we visited Angkor Wat. Life is good. We leave for China Tuesday and will be back next Sunday. We are very excited to have the opportunity to visit Shanghai while the World Expo is going on. I am sure Joe will have numerous stories to entertain you with when we return. He has been talking nonstop about all of the different food he is going to eat while we are there!

Back to temples... Determining whether or not a temple is Hindu or Buddhist can get a little confusing in Cambodia. In ancient Cambodia religion was dictated by the head of state, so anytime there was a new leader there could potentially be a new religion. However, Bayon Temple, our next stop after Angkor Wat, is distinctly Buddhist. There are 216 different giant Buddha heads looking at you as you wander around the temple. There are also full-bodied Buddhist statues all over the place, many of them headless and defaced as a result of thieves. If you check out the museum in Siem Reap, it is full of Buddha heads that have been recovered from all over the world. In addition to the Buddha heads and statues, there are also several places you can make an offering to Buddha, always apparent by the strong smell of incense and the colored scarves placed around Buddha's shoulders. People usually leave money, both real and fake, and sometimes they leave a soda or some fruit for Buddha to eat.

Outside the gate to Bayon Temple. 

 Chilling with Buddha. Again mother, this was not Joe's idea. In fact, Joe refused to take a picture with Buddha. 

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Buddha, incense, headless statues.

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  I guess this Buddha needed a snack. 

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The Buddha with the biggest smile. 

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Outside Bayon Temple- so distinctly Cambodia.  

We made one final stop at Angkor Thom before heading back to town for dinner, but by that point I was ready to be done for the day, so I honestly don't remember anything from our final stop. Dinner was much more memorable, but then again, any meal with Joe is memorable. We decided to eat at a restaurant that had a view of downtown Siem Reap, and as we made our way toward the open air balcony, I noticed two things: 1) there was only one other couple in the restaurant and 2) over half of the tables had signs on them that said they were reserved (we never actually saw anyone with a so-called "reservation" come into the restaurant, so I am pretty sure these were a ploy to make the restaurant look more popular than it actually was). I started to get a little nervous, so as we ordered from the sizable menu, I went with the sweet and sour pork. Joe of course made some comment about how I always eat the same thing and I ignored him, as usual. Joe ordered the fatty pork stew- doesn't that sound appetizing? What was I thinking going with the sweet and sour pork when I could have had the fatty pork stew? Both of us ordered a Fanta to drink. I don't usually like orange soda, and I know I can get orange soda in Korea, but for some reason I really wanted to drink an orange soda in Cambodia that night. It was delicious, and I know Joe felt the same way because he ended up ordering a second one. Once our food arrived, I had to listen to Joe go on and on about how delicious his giant bites of pork fat were. He then tried to forced me to eat some of his pork fat, like usual, but I instead opted for a sip of the broth. It was tasty, but I was perfectly content with my own dinner. To this day, Joe talks about the fatty pork stew. We'll be watching Biggest Loser and all of the sudden Joe will start licking his lips and say, "I really just want some of that fatty pork stew." Sure he talks about pizza, burgers, cookies, ice cream, and a lot of other food too, but the fatty pork stew is referred to quite frequently in our home. 

Joe eating his beloved Fatty Pork Stew. 
(Joe's note: I think that I am licking my teeth and gums to either savor or rid of the thin layer of fat residue)

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An up close shot of the stew.  
(Joe's note: This Khmer Stew contained big chunks of pork, tofu and hard boiled egg. Those are three hearty proteins! Later, I crapped a shot put.)

Our final day in Cambodia we embarked on our second consecutive day of temple viewing. We had a new guide, who I understood a little bit better than the first one, and after purchasing our temple passes for the day, we headed to Ta Prohm. If you look through our pictures, it looks like we had the place to ourselves, but honestly that couldn't be further from the truth. The place was jam packed with tour groups. The Japanese and Korean tour groups seem to like dressing their tour members in matching outfits. There were multiple groups of 30-40 people all wearing the same thing. I nicknamed one group the carrots. They were wearing orange shirts, bright green shorts, and bright green baseball caps. Even more ridiculous than the matching tour groups were the women wearing high heels trying to navigate the uneven ground. You see this a lot in Asia. The women LOVE their heels. 

Ta Prohm was one of my favorite temples that we visited. It is where Tomb Raider (Angeline Jolie) was filmed, and the whole temple site has been overtaken by the jungle. Despite the hordes of Japanese/Korean tour groups taking cutesy photos in their matching outfits in almost every part of the temple, we did manage to get a few good pictures. 

The trees have pretty much taken over Ta Prohm. 

While en route to one of the next temples we visited, we came across a fairly long funeral procession. The van slowed to a crawl and we passed by waves of people both young and old. The elderly in Cambodia are always women. During our week-long stay I am unable to recall ever seeing a man over 40 or 50 years old. Considering that men were targeted heavily by the Khmer Rouge this should come as no surprise, but it is still a very eerie reality to contemplate. When we finally made it to our destination many members of our tour (including my husband) got out of the van to snap pictures of the processional. I stayed in the van and waited for the group to finish. I remember wondering what I would think if I was at a funeral and random tourists started snapping pictures of the casket and the grieving guests...But since we have the pictures, I guess I will post a few.

Bakong Temple was our final stop of the day. It is here that Joe and I learned two very important lessons that we will now heed anytime we travel. Lesson 1) Wait until you get home to wear the t-shirts you buy. At the entrance to the temple we heard children giggling and looked up to see fingers pointing our direction. The reason for the giggling was immediately apparent. I had decided to wear one of the t-shirts we bought from the orphanage we visited earlier in the week, and the children were wearing the same shirt. They had a table set up outside the entrance to the temple and they were asking for donations for the orphanage. The situation was made even more awkward when Joe insisted that I take a picture with the children, especially considering we didn't donate any money (we had already given them money earlier in the week). Lesson 2) Don't accept gifts of any sort from Cambodian children. Joe made the mistake of taking a leaf from a young Cambodian girl. The girl then proceeded to follow us around for 30 minutes saying softly, "One dolla, one dolla, one dolla..." She was relentless and followed us all the way to the van. I felt bad not giving her a dollar, but more often than not children are being exploited and forced to do this kind of work, and tourists are implored not to give in to these kinds of scams.

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The picture Joe forced me to take with the children from the orphanage. 

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Whatever you do, don't accept the leaf!

As the day came to a close, it was time to get ready to return to Korea. Tired, hot, and fighting a cold, I returned to the hotel room immediately after dinner to clean up and finish packing. Sometime during dinner Joe found out we hadn't spent all of the money we brought, so instead of joining me at the hotel, he set out to spend every last dollar (Cambodians want US dollars, so that is what most people use) we had. The pictures below chronicle his final adventure in Cambodia. 

Joe finishing up his second beer at dinner. 

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Ice cold beer. So refreshing. Must have one for the walk home.

Hmmm, I really don't feel like packing, so how about another massage?
 (Joe's note: no boner this time.)

Sweet! I have just enough money for a sandwich. 

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Aaaaah, so tasty, Hopefully this tides me over until they serve the meal on the plane... 

(Joe's note: This is a very common street food in Cambodia- a pate sandwich. A slathering of salty minced meat paste and a sweet honey garlic sauce, two hunks of a pressed, processed meat, a pickle and shaved onions on crispy french bread. God I want one.)

Cambodia: Angkor Wat

Over the weekend Joe granted me the “privilege” of being a “guest author” on his blog. He built it up like he was bestowing upon me some impressive honor, but in reality he set a goal to finish blogging about Cambodia before we leave for China, and he is feeling slightly burned out. His solution: bring in Sami to finish the job while assuaging her ego in the process. He tried to sell me a bunch of crap about how I know more about the temples and history of Cambodia than he does. Blah blah blah. Whatever Joe. A word of warning- I probably won’t spend the entire time trying to write about farting, poop, and food, so if that is why you tune into Joe’s blog, you may not find me as entertaining.

We spent our final two days in Cambodia touring temples. We toured a total of 12 temples during our week in Cambodia, and 10 of those visits took place in those final two days. Scheduling two consecutive days of temple visiting was a mistake on my part, and temple fatigue definitely hit us hard, especially considering that the temperature was close to 100 degrees. Thank goodness for the camera because by the end of the second day my brain was completely overwhelmed and I could barely remember which temple was which.

We started the two days with a visit to Angkor Wat, in my mind the most impressive of all of the temples we visited. I booked a group tour so we would have a guide to provide us with information as we visited each temple. Unfortunately, I could barely understand a word our guide said. I can understand Konglish (Korean English) very easily, but I have a very difficult time understanding Indian English and Cambodian English, to the degree that it can be embarrassing. Luckily, Joe was more adept at deciphering what our guide was saying, so every now and then I would ask him to translate. Interestingly, Joe is not as good at understanding Konglish (he will tell you he is, but really, he isn’t). 

 I guarantee I can't understand a word he is saying.

As we walked along the path leading to Angkor Wat we were greeted by monkeys of all shapes and sizes, just chilling in the grass. At that point, Joe turned into a 10-year old boy. He gets so excited about animals, monkeys in particular. He of course wanted to play with the monkeys, but when the monkeys tried to steal his sunglasses things got a little tense. I tried to capture this moment on camera, but I got too excited and fumbled the camera. By the time I had things under control Joe had managed to retrieve his sunglasses and the monkey had moved on to shinier pairs of shades. 

 

 Moments before the monkey stole Joe's shades. 

 The detail in Angkor Wat is incredible. Almost every inch of its surface is covered in ornate carvings. It is staggering to consider the amount of manpower that went into constructing it, and even more staggering to contemplate the time and effort spent carving Hindu imagery all over the temple walls. As a history teacher, I was shocked at how accessible everything was at Angkor Wat. You can view almost every inch of the temple and there are few limitations on what you can touch. A couple of years ago I visited Mount Vernon and toured George Washington’s home. The tour was the worst I have ever been on. I felt like I was being herded through the home as quickly as possible, constantly being reminded not to touch anything. The experience at Angkor Wat was just the opposite, but the extreme accessibility of the temple was almost disconcerting. It is rumored that the Cambodian government has considered closing it off to the public in an effort to better preserve the ancient structure, but hopefully they will instead consider limiting the areas that people can view and encouraging people not to touch the walls and carvings that are slowly eroding. 

 Traditional Khmer apsara dancer.

 The walls are covered in carvings like this.

Crazy tourists like him need to be stopped!

There was one area of the temple that I was almost prohibited from viewing. Due to the extreme heat I wore shorts and a t-shirt that day, forgetting that I read online the importance of covering your knees when you visit the temples. Luckily two members of our tour group offered me their long-sleeved, button-up shirts, and I was able to construct a skirt and gain admittance to the only area of Angkor Wat that is restricted. It was a little annoying to constantly have to readjust the “skirt” and make sure my knees were covered, but overall it was worth getting the full Angkor Wat experience. 

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 A view of the skirt, front and back. 

 No Mom, this wasn't Joe's idea. The guide told us to take a picture here, so Joe doesn't get the credit.

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Cambodia: Tonle Sap

I flicked the T.V. on back at the Kazna just in time to see Gerald Wallace half jog up to the hoop, softly jumpstop, rise with his back to the basket, and daintily drop the ball through the rim behind his head. What was this? A warm-up routine? The TNT analysts were equally perplexed by the lack of creativity. I later learned that the 2010 Slam Dunk Contest was easily the most pathetic ever. Thankfully, I didn't waste time watching it unfold. The front desk called to inform us that a van carrying passengers headed for Tonle Sap, the largest lake in Southeast Asia, was waiting.

The section of lake we entered into looked more like a muddy river. We walked down a massive flight of wooden stairs and across the dusty, dried out lake bottom to get to our passenger boat. During the monsoon season, the lake swells to six times its size.

 This is a floating basketball court. Hopefully, some of the villagers have a consistent game going with more intensity than the dunk contest I saw earlier...

The covered wooden boat held Sami and me and about eight or 10 international passengers. We heard Chinese, German, and an indecipherable language. Since our Cambodian tour guide used English exclusively, he spent most of the time chatting with us. He offered us an Angkor beer which, even warm, I couldn't pass up.

I was only halfway through my hot beer when the driver cut the motor and let us out and into a makeshift museum floating among scattered homes. As we exited single file, the driver's young son stood on the bow and implored "wanyourhehplee" (watch your head please). He said this a dozen or so times, once to each passenger, and another dozen times when we got back in. In all we either left or came back to the boat eight times, and each time he was a little more confident with his English.

The museum was straight out of the Bates Motel with an Apocalypse Now vibe. There were fascinating images detailing the floating village and the everyday lives of its villagers, as well as the importance of Tonle Sap's ecosystem to the people of Cambodia. Some of the pictures and wood carvings of cranes and crocs creeped me out. I wouldn't want to spend a night alone in that place. I left with a shudder and the now familiar "wanyourhehplee."

Next, we stopped off at a large floating souvenir shop that tripled as a restaurant and crocodile farm. We were starting to attempt to manage our money a little better (earlier in the day, Sami had vetoed my idea of purchasing a bootlegged copy of Mad Men Season 3 for $15. I am still bitter) so we did not buy anything. Also, the crocodiles didn't look as menacing down in their watery, wooden homes. Back in the boat. "Wanyourhehplee."

Our final destination was a two level, floating restaurant out in the heart of the lake. We could not see the shore in any direction. The water lost its green/brown color in the setting sun. If you would have dropped me down from the sky and told me I was in the middle of the ocean, I would have believed it.

Most of our party hustled to the top deck of the boat. We went up and looked around, but there weren't any seats left. Luckily, downstairs on the back end of the boat, slightly raised from the main floor were two low-lying hammocks. Our tour guide offered us a complimentary drink menu and I ordered a Jim Beam. This was my first taste of whiskey in six months and it was delightful. My ears warmed immediately and it reminded me of being back in college where we used to drink an ounce shot of Jim Beam chased in a jigger with Dr. Pepper (and now that I think back on it, I can't believe we drank that much soda. Gross). I had three more Jim Beams and was feeling comfortably numb.

At one point Sami looked at me and said "we are in the middle of a lake in Cambodia." It was surreal. That moment, I felt as peaceful and content as I have ever been in my life. At that moment, on Lake Tonle Sap at sunset, I learned a lesson I will never forget. Soak in the moment. From now on, all of my future traveling will be done with the intention of recapturing that feeling.

I sloppily devoured my dinner of sweet and sour fish like a drunk person. Too soon, it was time to leave. "Wanyourhehplee."

We left in the darkness, batted mosquitos and looked up at every star in the galaxy. Tomorrow we visit Angkor Wat.

Note: This is the next to last post on our Cambodia trip. The final installment will be guest authored by Sami Hayden Boyd