Getting back to California from Athens was a bit of a culture shock at first. It
was weird being where everything seemed so familiar, yet at the same time so
distant. However, I didn't have much time to think about it all as I only had a
week to say a quick hi to all my friends in California, pack things up for Asia,
say goodbye to Zen (who has moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin to start her new job),
and to spend at least a little time to catch my breath.
On Nov 4th, I was back on a plane and heading to Seoul, Korea. The twelve hour
flight went by relatively quickly as I thumbed through my Lonely Planet guide to
try and get an idea as to where I was going and what I was going to be doing
there. I had no time beforehand to do any kind of preparation, and as a result,
I would be landing with no expectations and with my eyes wide open.
As my luggage all fit in the carry-on compartment, getting off of the plane and
into Seoul was a speedy process. Within an hour and a half of landing I had
cleared customs, changed money, taken the subway into central Seoul, and walked
through twisty little alleyways in the dark to find the yogwan (Korean style
hotel) I had chosen to spend the night (all while suffering from the drunken
stupor of jetlag).
I was greeted at the yogwan by hordes of other westerners (mostly Canadians),
who were gathering around in the courtyard with a view of the stars and the
skyscrapers above. To my surprise, few were travelers. It seems the majority of
them were in Seoul to teach English (some legally and some not), and most of
them had not traveled outside Seoul.
As I settled into my room, it was clear I wasn't in California any more. The
autumn air was a little brisk (it is going down to a few degrees above freezing
at night), and the paper doors did little to keep the chill out of the small
cubicle I would be sleeping in. As is traditional in yogwans, the floors are
heated and you sleep on a thin mat (not much more than a thick blanket) which
keeps your body close to the heat.
The next few days were spent trying to get a feel for the huge metropolis of
over 10 million people that I was surrounded by. The neighbourhood was filled
with a strange combination of older one story buildings along with huge modern
skyscrapers plastered with logos and many with big TV screens. It all gives the
place a Blade Runner like feel at night. The ever present cranes demonstrated
that Seoul is still growing rapidly. The older buildings are slowly being torn
down to be replaced with more office complexes, and I was informed the yogwan I
am staying in will be on the chopping block sometime next year.
The main streets tend to be very modern and western looking, while a walk down
any of the alleys reminds you that you are in Korea. I was unable to tell what
the shops were from the script written on the outside, but the smells wafting
out let me know what I was walking past. Pungent garlic meant a restaurant, the
smell of the sea meant a fish market, and an indescribable mix of strange aromas
indicated an herbalist.
As I tried to explore the area around my yogwan, one of the first sights I came
across was the Kyongbokkung Palace complex. Once inside, it was easy to forget I
was in Seoul as the landscaped gardens and elegant pagodas were set against a
backdrop of mountains in the distance. The fall colourings of the bright red
Japanese maples and the vibrant yellow of the ginkgos added to the effect. I
spent quite some time sitting under the trees and watching the hundreds of
elegantly dressed brides and grooms posing in the gardens for wedding pictures.
While I was sitting, an elderly gentleman offered to give me a tour in exchange
for me helping him with his english. We spent some time walking around and
talking, and then he introduced me to a docent at the national museum who had
just returned to Korea after spending eight months studying english at the
University of Alberta in Edmonton. She led me on a tour through Korea's past,
which will help provide a little context to the sights I will be seeing on my
travels through the country.
The Korean Folk Village proved to be an interesting side trip, complete with
authentically reconstructed traditional homes from all regions of the country.
However, I sometimes wondered which was the bigger tourist attraction ... the
village, or me. People asked to take pictures of me with their children, the
school children all wanted to talk to me ("hello", "what is your
name?", "how old are you?"), and I felt like a famous movie star
when hundreds of them all decided they wanted my autograph. At first I was very
patient with them, but soon realized their numbers were so great that I had to
start saying no or I would be signing until sunset.
The subway system in Seoul is probably the best underground system of any I have
ever used, and it is quite easy to navigate all over the city. Unfortunately,
they stop running at midnight. One night when returning from an english speaking
pub in the American military base district, I was faced with having to hail a
cab which was no easy feat. The cabs were very full, but if they have an empty
seat they will slow down enough for you to yell a location. If your destination
is in the right direction, they will let you in, and otherwise they speed off.
At least 30 or 40 cabs passed us by without stopping, including several empty
ones (I guess they didn't think they could get a return fare). I figured they
might be avoiding the westerner, but several Korean businessmen nearby suffered
the same fate. We were only able to get a cab to give us a ride when we got into
an empty cab first and announced our destination next. Later I was told by a
local that the taxi drivers are "kings", and passengers are at their
mercy.
The food here has been wonderful, if not a little spicy. I have tried delicacies
such as the ever present kimchi (a spicy pickled cabbage), Korean fire beef (a
stir-fry cooked in front of you at your table), kimbap (the Korean answer to
sushi but without the raw fish), potato pancakes (which the host jokingly
described as Korean pizza), and a variety of other dishes involving noodles and
rice. Probably my favourite dish to date has been pibumpap which is a bed of
rice covered with a chilli sauce, an assortment of vegetables and Oriental
mushrooms, and topped with a fried egg.
After waiting for the Saturday rush out of Seoul to end, I got up Sunday morning
to take a train ride to Ch'unch'on to the east of Seoul. No english was spoken
at the train station, but writing down the name and time of my preferred train
did the trick, and soon I was being whisked out into the countryside.
On arrival in Ch'unch'on, I walked into town and began to search out a hotel.
The Lonely Planet book had some recommended names, but there was no english in
sight, and I couldn't tell which buildings were even hotels. I took a guess at a
building that looked promising and was greeted by a very elderly lady. I looked
up a few phrases in the guidebook and confidently blurted them out after which
the lady confidently blurted something back. Seeing the puzzled look on my face,
she just rattled off the same sentence over and over again until she realized it
wasn't going anywhere. We both started thumbing through my phrasebook looking
for what she was trying to say, but to no avail. Some young women walked by and
the lady recruited her help. They then wrote some numbers down on a piece of
paper, and I figured out that she was asking me to pay. After seeing the room, I
paid the money, and we were all happy.
As I was settling in my room, her husband came up with some bottled water and a
towel. This all seemed very normal. A few minutes later he showed up again with
some soap. Again, a few minutes later, another knock on the door and he
presented me with a toothbrush and some toothpaste. At this point I was
beginning to get the impression he was trying to tell me something, and I was
waiting for him to knock one more time with a razor and some deodorant.
The doorways in the hotel all seemed to be about 1 cm shorter than me. Just high
enough so I couldn't see them, and just low enough for me to crack my head on
them. The Lonely Planet guide jokes that these were built during the Korean war
as boobytraps. If that is so, the half dozen scabs on the top of my head would
indicate that this hotel is well defended.
I was constantly approached by people while walking around town, and had a fun
chat with a theological student who had just returned from a masters in Houston.
I also had fun talking with the owner of a buckwheat noodle restaurant that I
visited.
However, the most interesting encounter was with a woman I bumped into on the
street. She started talking to me in Korean, and what she was saying seemed to
be quite important. When I indicated I couldn't understand Korean, she sighed
and left. Later in the day, I ran into her again in front of her shop, and she
beckoned me to come inside. Her father was already seated, and she put a seat
down for me to sit on next to them. The father started asking me questions (the
usual small talk) such as where I was from, how old I was, what I did for a
living, etc. Then, he asked me if I was married. When I said no, the woman
started gesturing, pointing at me and then pointing at herself. I then
recognized that this was a wedding proposal and she had brought me to meet her
father. We talked a little further, and when we couldn't come to an agreement on
how many kids to have, we decided to call it off.
From Ch'unch'on, I took a bus ride into the national park Soraksan. I just
arrived late this afternoon, but what I can see from the resort town is
spectacular. The mountains are not real high, but they are sharp and unlike any
I have ever seen before. They remind me of the mountain scenes often pictured in
Oriental pottery and paintings. The autumn colours are almost over, but there is
still enough left to liven things up with splashes of red, yellow, green, and
brown splattered over the mist-shrouded hillsides.
I will be spending the next several days here hiking, reading, relaxing, and
trying to figure out where I would like to go next.
