Day 208
Jikji spring. Yellow bushes line the walks, pink spots on rocks, cherry blossoms have fallen. They are replaced by picnickers on the lovely spring day.
Post morning, A visit to the campus of Gimcheon College provides the sight of a miserable monkey family in a 20 foot jungle-gym cage. Papa's a little aggro, but who can blame him? Next up on the sad sights tour is the Deer Pen. 4 deer lay in the shade of sheds within their 30 foot cage. The trees are sheathed in metal...perhaps to prevent antler sharpening by the raging buck? Who knows. Handstand practice happens near the pond while Myeong Hee ponders the present.
On an afternoon walk through town, I meet 5 new foreigners and am accompanied by another. Gimcheon has recently become home to... 12 new people? Perhaps more. This occurance has changed my outlook for the spring. A positive outlook requires less determination than it has in the past month.
During dinner, I am surprised by arms around my waist and turn to discover an ajuma covering my bared back with an apron. Perhaps a longer shirt would've prevented this, but it was certainly entertaining.
Home to special tea and scrabble. Recalling the sweetness in tiny bites of lilac as a child, I collect some from the bush outside. The flowers change from...well, lilac, to pale gray. The taste is faintly bitter. I add rosemary to create a rather medicinal tasting nightcap.
Day 207
Walking from home to the station. Riding from the station to the station. Walking from the station to class. This all happens.
Walking from class to the subway. Riding from the stop to the terminal. Riding from the terminal to the temple. This also happens.
Walking from the bus stop to temple site. Hearing massive chanting. Seeing chains of lotus lanterns. Walking 108 steps up. Seeing masses of people walking a maze while carrying replicas of the woodblocks housed at Haeinsa on their heads. This happens.
Wandering. Being invited into line. Having my arm taken by a woman whose mastery of English rivals my mastery of Korean. Walking past the Tripitaka Koreana. Peeking through slatted windows large enough to call walls. Accepting a plastic replica of a woodblock from youthful monks. Supressing a laugh as monks supress looks of surprise. This all happens.
Walking the maze single file. Completing and exiting the maze. Being guided to the temple cafeteria. Walking arm in arm to the parking lot. Getting in the couple's car, which happens to be a taxi. Riding in the taxi from temple to town. Subway to station. Station to station. This finally happens.
Finally back in Gimcheon 14 hours later, I meet up with a woman who has recently arrived. The night is filled with cathartic chatting first at one Hof with brick pattern wallpaper, then at another with walls that could've passed for a High School locker door.
Showing posts with label daegu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daegu. Show all posts
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
. . . and on, and on . . .
Day 197
Flashback to Christmas Eve: I'm sitting at a table with kimchi pancakes, moccoli (traditional rice wine) I don't need to drink, and a co-worker, and a friend. We've already had more soju than I anticipated and I'm not too excited about the moccoli. I excuse myself to go stand outside for fresh air, and when I come back, there is a red-faced man in a shiny pin-striped suit, smiling, nodding, smelling strongly of cologne, and pouring moccoli into my bowl.
"I saw you and, you know, I just want to speak Eng-uh-lish with you, you know? Is that okay, I blah will blah not blah take blah a blah hint..."
Young Mi and I exchange "who the hell is this guy??" looks, and simultaneously raise eyebrows at Ted, who has invited him to sit down, assuming that the man knew Young Mi. He stays with us for quite a while. I think of him as "Bluster Man"
Flash forward three months: shiny pin-striped suit man Bluster Man is sitting at the desk across from me. He is the new teacher at the Hagwon. Now we will be talking alllll the time.
Day 200
After Korean class in Daegu, I invite my friend to the Kitty Cafe. With a fennec fox in the window, grown cats lazing about, and siamese kittens playing 'round our feet, we sip banana shakes and eat lunch.
Follow this with hunting for strange parks filled with cherry blossoms, wandering the herbal medicine market on a slow day to find stuffed fanged deer cousins in windows near an albino mongoose fighting an albino snake, and there's my day, basically.
Plus the fox thing in glasses...
and a very convincing rice-cake octopus.
In the evening, another friend serves as my guide on the bus to the University district. We meander the campus amid blossoming trees of varying sorts, and sit at a park bench. It's amazing how familiar the smell of the Student Union cafeteria is. We finally complete a full circle of the campus. The final building we pass is called "Useful Building". It is spelled in a brick pattern on the side.
Day 201
I spend much of the afternoon harvesting wild mugwort from the bank of a lake outside of town. The sun is out, and a kind breeze keeps us insect-free. There aren't many, but I've noticed that they're coming. Oh, they're coming.
This week's reading has been (in order of appearance): The Red Dragon, The Exorcist, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Not my first choices. In fact, I've been avoiding reading the first two all year, but my options in English literature are severely limited. Donations of the published kind are happily accepted.
Flashback to Christmas Eve: I'm sitting at a table with kimchi pancakes, moccoli (traditional rice wine) I don't need to drink, and a co-worker, and a friend. We've already had more soju than I anticipated and I'm not too excited about the moccoli. I excuse myself to go stand outside for fresh air, and when I come back, there is a red-faced man in a shiny pin-striped suit, smiling, nodding, smelling strongly of cologne, and pouring moccoli into my bowl.
"I saw you and, you know, I just want to speak Eng-uh-lish with you, you know? Is that okay, I blah will blah not blah take blah a blah hint..."
Young Mi and I exchange "who the hell is this guy??" looks, and simultaneously raise eyebrows at Ted, who has invited him to sit down, assuming that the man knew Young Mi. He stays with us for quite a while. I think of him as "Bluster Man"
Flash forward three months: shiny pin-striped suit man Bluster Man is sitting at the desk across from me. He is the new teacher at the Hagwon. Now we will be talking alllll the time.
Day 200
After Korean class in Daegu, I invite my friend to the Kitty Cafe. With a fennec fox in the window, grown cats lazing about, and siamese kittens playing 'round our feet, we sip banana shakes and eat lunch.
Follow this with hunting for strange parks filled with cherry blossoms, wandering the herbal medicine market on a slow day to find stuffed fanged deer cousins in windows near an albino mongoose fighting an albino snake, and there's my day, basically.
Plus the fox thing in glasses...
and a very convincing rice-cake octopus.
In the evening, another friend serves as my guide on the bus to the University district. We meander the campus amid blossoming trees of varying sorts, and sit at a park bench. It's amazing how familiar the smell of the Student Union cafeteria is. We finally complete a full circle of the campus. The final building we pass is called "Useful Building". It is spelled in a brick pattern on the side.
Day 201
I spend much of the afternoon harvesting wild mugwort from the bank of a lake outside of town. The sun is out, and a kind breeze keeps us insect-free. There aren't many, but I've noticed that they're coming. Oh, they're coming.
This week's reading has been (in order of appearance): The Red Dragon, The Exorcist, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Not my first choices. In fact, I've been avoiding reading the first two all year, but my options in English literature are severely limited. Donations of the published kind are happily accepted.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Whiling the Time
Days 162-173
There is a consistent feeling of waking from one dream into another; one surreality into the next. On top of that, actual dreams are more vivid and memorable than ever. Why, just last night I held my favorite giant purple chicken, with glowing mink fur in lieu of feathers, on my lap in our old neighbor's climbing tree. We talked for hours while friends dressed as characters from Robin Hood gathered at a party hosted by my grandparents.
On my third day back to Korea, I am released from work after two hours. With my unexpected afternoon, a trip to the city seems in order.
Upon reaching the train station, I am nearly an hour early for the local train to Daegu. I buy my ticket and wait outside in the sun, watching a throng of older men take turns tossing four sticks, one side rounded, the other flat. Occasionally they argue, and pass around W1,000 bills. At one point the argument gets so heated that one man turns in a huff, takes his bike and walks away. After cajoling and jeering, he heads back to the circle to place his W1,000 bet once more.
The time to leave arrives and I become lost in thought on the way to Daegu. I vaguely recall a mental note on something about a sub-commentary to self on internal monologue. Something about experiencing life as a constant narration. Who knows? Whether I'm narrating to myself or to others, narration is happening, right? Within us all, right? What? OH. I'm in Daegu already. Time to meander.
These seem to be the days where one may say "...and she lived her life quietly and contentedly among the foreign world of which she was now a part," or some such drivel. The once healthy drive to write even a sentence for every day has diminished markedly. There are many possible reasons for this.
I have a renewed interest in NPR and pancakes. My Sunday home activity is: waking early to make pancakes and brown sugar simple syrup, and some coffee, while listening to NPR. My weekend away, well, that is something different altogether, but there seems to be a Westernized theme.
Saturday morning, I wake early to head for Daegu once again. This time with a purpose other than aimless wandering: Korean lessons with other foreigners at the YMCA. That's right. The YMCA has outreach even in Daegu, South Korea. 91 years of it, to be exact.
I struggle to pronounce 만나사 반가우ㅓ요 (mahn-ah-saw ban-ga-wuh-yo (i.e., nice to meet you)), while my classmate struggles to unwrap a triangle gimbap.
Afterward, I meet familiar Gumi-ites for a stroll around town with a stop at a virtual roller coaster and an introduction to a restaurant with genuine Western breakfast at 2pm and an un-sugared Bloody Mary.
Sunday, post-pancake, I go to Gumi, a nearby city, to deliver a keyboard and see a movie. The Watchmen,
"An adaptation of Alan Moore's landmark comic book series, Watchmen is a story set in an alternative 1985, where the world is ticking closer to the brink of nuclear war, and a plot to eliminate a band of ex-crimefighters is instigated, but why? and by whom?..."
turns out to be just under three hours long. An uncommon opportunity for Scrabble presents itself post-movie, and I spend two more hours in good company, involved in movie discussion, swapping jokes, and racking up a pretty high losing score at my favorite board game. Ween knew gnu knew no new pundits for pun times. Oh, Scrabble!
Day 174
Finally, the 백만 Won that the bank lost in transfer shows up in the right place. Whew! A sigh of relief for that one! A new week begins today.
There is a consistent feeling of waking from one dream into another; one surreality into the next. On top of that, actual dreams are more vivid and memorable than ever. Why, just last night I held my favorite giant purple chicken, with glowing mink fur in lieu of feathers, on my lap in our old neighbor's climbing tree. We talked for hours while friends dressed as characters from Robin Hood gathered at a party hosted by my grandparents.
On my third day back to Korea, I am released from work after two hours. With my unexpected afternoon, a trip to the city seems in order.
Upon reaching the train station, I am nearly an hour early for the local train to Daegu. I buy my ticket and wait outside in the sun, watching a throng of older men take turns tossing four sticks, one side rounded, the other flat. Occasionally they argue, and pass around W1,000 bills. At one point the argument gets so heated that one man turns in a huff, takes his bike and walks away. After cajoling and jeering, he heads back to the circle to place his W1,000 bet once more.
The time to leave arrives and I become lost in thought on the way to Daegu. I vaguely recall a mental note on something about a sub-commentary to self on internal monologue. Something about experiencing life as a constant narration. Who knows? Whether I'm narrating to myself or to others, narration is happening, right? Within us all, right? What? OH. I'm in Daegu already. Time to meander.
These seem to be the days where one may say "...and she lived her life quietly and contentedly among the foreign world of which she was now a part," or some such drivel. The once healthy drive to write even a sentence for every day has diminished markedly. There are many possible reasons for this.
I have a renewed interest in NPR and pancakes. My Sunday home activity is: waking early to make pancakes and brown sugar simple syrup, and some coffee, while listening to NPR. My weekend away, well, that is something different altogether, but there seems to be a Westernized theme.
Saturday morning, I wake early to head for Daegu once again. This time with a purpose other than aimless wandering: Korean lessons with other foreigners at the YMCA. That's right. The YMCA has outreach even in Daegu, South Korea. 91 years of it, to be exact.
I struggle to pronounce 만나사 반가우ㅓ요 (mahn-ah-saw ban-ga-wuh-yo (i.e., nice to meet you)), while my classmate struggles to unwrap a triangle gimbap.
Afterward, I meet familiar Gumi-ites for a stroll around town with a stop at a virtual roller coaster and an introduction to a restaurant with genuine Western breakfast at 2pm and an un-sugared Bloody Mary.
Sunday, post-pancake, I go to Gumi, a nearby city, to deliver a keyboard and see a movie. The Watchmen,
"An adaptation of Alan Moore's landmark comic book series, Watchmen is a story set in an alternative 1985, where the world is ticking closer to the brink of nuclear war, and a plot to eliminate a band of ex-crimefighters is instigated, but why? and by whom?..."
turns out to be just under three hours long. An uncommon opportunity for Scrabble presents itself post-movie, and I spend two more hours in good company, involved in movie discussion, swapping jokes, and racking up a pretty high losing score at my favorite board game. Ween knew gnu knew no new pundits for pun times. Oh, Scrabble!
Day 174
Finally, the 백만 Won that the bank lost in transfer shows up in the right place. Whew! A sigh of relief for that one! A new week begins today.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The Longest Night
Day 91
I think about how I should get up early. I think about it before pulling the covers back over my head to block out sunlight.
Day 92
The season is stuck in November weather.
Day 93
I raised my voice at the students today. It was unexpected, and I felt as shocked as they looked. But at least they stopped screaming. Not many classes are badly behaved, but there are one or two that show next to no respect for me as a teacher. It's not their fault, I think. They can't understand my instructions, they're in classes all day, and the precedent of foreign teachers is to play games and let the kids run wild for a half hour. I've changed that slightly. I try to create a fun learning environment, but I am not a babysitter. That's never been my disposition.
Day 94
Handstands in the kitchen
Roots in my soup.
Over dinner, I learn that Winter Solstice lore includes eating red-bean soup to ward off evil spirits and a superstition that one's eyebrows will turn white if one falls asleep overnight.
Day 95
Today is the shortest day of the year. I use the brief light to venture to Daegu. Walking through the parking lot, I see a student standing outside. We chat and discover that we are headed to the same place. I decide to wait for him, and soon we set out together for the station. With standing room only, we head for the cartoonish cafe car. Multiple shades of green and various saturation levels of hot pink surround us as we discuss whatever comes to mind.
Arriving at Daegu, we set out for Kyobo. A Korean textbook and a brief conversation with a Chinese-Canadian who drills me on Korean numbers later, we are back out on the street. It is the Christmas season and shoppers are out in full swing on Dec. 21. A stage holds a passionate singer backed by a dedicated rock band. We stop for Ommuk between the stage and a cell phone store, struggling to lure customers in with pop songs while the rock blasts from across the pedestrian street. He heads for his family's house, and I head for the station. Today's company was a pleasant surprise.
I return home to the question once again: what is a good activity for 12/13 year olds? This time the answer is making Christmas cards, watching a Charlie Brown Christmas, and the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer animation. Oddly enough, I find myself longing for candy canes and tinsel as Charlie Brown's creator tries to remind me of what Christmas is all about.
I think about how I should get up early. I think about it before pulling the covers back over my head to block out sunlight.
Day 92
The season is stuck in November weather.
Day 93
I raised my voice at the students today. It was unexpected, and I felt as shocked as they looked. But at least they stopped screaming. Not many classes are badly behaved, but there are one or two that show next to no respect for me as a teacher. It's not their fault, I think. They can't understand my instructions, they're in classes all day, and the precedent of foreign teachers is to play games and let the kids run wild for a half hour. I've changed that slightly. I try to create a fun learning environment, but I am not a babysitter. That's never been my disposition.
Day 94
Handstands in the kitchen
Roots in my soup.
Over dinner, I learn that Winter Solstice lore includes eating red-bean soup to ward off evil spirits and a superstition that one's eyebrows will turn white if one falls asleep overnight.
Day 95
Today is the shortest day of the year. I use the brief light to venture to Daegu. Walking through the parking lot, I see a student standing outside. We chat and discover that we are headed to the same place. I decide to wait for him, and soon we set out together for the station. With standing room only, we head for the cartoonish cafe car. Multiple shades of green and various saturation levels of hot pink surround us as we discuss whatever comes to mind.
Arriving at Daegu, we set out for Kyobo. A Korean textbook and a brief conversation with a Chinese-Canadian who drills me on Korean numbers later, we are back out on the street. It is the Christmas season and shoppers are out in full swing on Dec. 21. A stage holds a passionate singer backed by a dedicated rock band. We stop for Ommuk between the stage and a cell phone store, struggling to lure customers in with pop songs while the rock blasts from across the pedestrian street. He heads for his family's house, and I head for the station. Today's company was a pleasant surprise.
I return home to the question once again: what is a good activity for 12/13 year olds? This time the answer is making Christmas cards, watching a Charlie Brown Christmas, and the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer animation. Oddly enough, I find myself longing for candy canes and tinsel as Charlie Brown's creator tries to remind me of what Christmas is all about.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Jazz & Theater vs. Seaweed Salad & Sugar Cookies
Day 66
Excitement of Friday has kids bouncing off the walls. Apartment is re-arranged, but it still feels like a hotel. Bare walls, perhaps.
Day 67
Afternoon train to Gumi, I meet the woman I met last Saturday. We pace the streets of downtown Gumi together until it is time to get dinner. We meet a woman from Chile selling jewelry on the street. She and I speak for a while. She seems glad to speak Spanish. My friend debates coming to Daegu. Ultimately, I board the train alone.
Evening train to Daegu, I meet the man I met last Sunday. We get directions to Club THAT. We ask several times along the way to ensure a correct path. We are way off.
Eventually we walk up to a building that is almost large and noticeably set back from the main street. The first floor has the atmosphere of an arty coffee house, we follow signs to the second floor. Musicians are taking the stage as we find a table in the crowded room. Apparently the second floor is the "Jazz Lounge". At one point, the bassist switches to something that is almost an upright base, but the body is very slim. I've never seen the instrument before.
Foreigners start filing in and are asked to pay a cover for the music or leave until the theater performance begins. Apparently the THAT has a tight schedule. We pay W5000 and keep our seats. We are soon joined by two others I know and some strangers.
The ensuing 10 min plays are reminiscent of a Bedlam Romp or No Shame Theatre. Only tamer. Once or twice, while shaking my head, I hear a quiet, "Give it a chance." I hadn't expected genius, I came in search of new experience, new people. I wanted to be an observer, and I was. And perhaps the purpose of this event was to create interest in Daegu's first Expat Theatre Troupe...which it did. The final play ends and scorecards are handed out.
The last play finishes as the last train pulls away from Daegu Station. My friend goes home to rest up for an early morning; I decide to stay up until the first train leaves...at 4am. It's already 12:30, so it shouldn't be too difficult. There is a small dance floor upstairs, which is where I head. No one is dancing. I attempt to recruit several others, and there is relative success. I split my time between the dance floor and perusing the DJ's mostly indie dance rock collection, hoping something will catch my eye. It's 2:30. A couple I met a few weeks ago happened to be in Daegu this evening as well. I go with them to a different club. We stand outside as people they know stream out shaking their heads and muttering about awful music. We linger until the music ends, then head downstairs. We leave. 3 am, back at THAT, I say goodbye. No, I don't want to stay. No, I don't want a drink. I'm just waiting for the first train, I'll see you later.
I step into the now quiet streets of central Daegu. There are a small groups of people walking here and there. Armed with my camera and sense of direction, I walk toward the train station. "Don't worry, I can read Murakami in the station, if nothing else," I'd said earlier. That is my plan now. Buy a ticket, read in the station until the train comes. Buildings, lights, advertisements with flourescent lighting are the foreground, with a black sky behind. I feel as if I'm in an abandoned city.
Near the station, a young man, maybe 18, approaches and hands me a stick of grape gum. He asks if I speak Hangul and asks me to kiss him. I have to laugh. Really hard. This is a dare, maybe? When it is clear that my answer is a serious no, he grins and runs to catch up with his friends.
I catch the 4am train and read on the way home. Train to taxi to door to bed. 5:15.
Day 68
10 am phone call. A date in Gumi with my student, Bonnie.
12 pm, I am again on a train to Gumi. I take video of the train ride. camera looking out the window pulling away from Gimcheon station, intermittently capturing the farmland and country-side until Gumi.
Bonnie meets me at the station and takes me out to lunch. DDukbokki at stalls in the market. We get coffee and then head to the Sticker-photo Store. We walk into a wonderland of glitter, pink, and purple. Add some green-screen, blue-screen, yellow-screen, and black-screen...and you have the Sticker-photo Store. Oh, and costumes. She grabs me by the hand and we race around the store, ducking into empty photo booths, trying to decide which one. Greenscreen.
The Result (actual size):
Day 69
Yoga. Work again. Electric heaters in the rooms create a unique scent. I'm not so sure it's a healthy one. A purchase of warmer lighting after work. I am convinced that flourescent lighting is partial cause of poor eyesight. Christmas lights now line my ceiling.
The hotel feel is diminishing.
Day 70
Weather is cold and rainy. Or cold and foggy. It's like being in a dense cloud.
1:30 Teacher's Meeting. Everything is in Hangul until my presentation begins. English Time! Teach, teach. Hey, teach. I wish someone would call me that. Well...no I don't. Nighttime comes and I make two attempts: seaweed salad, and sugar cookies.
two problems...
1. wrong seaweed. This seems more like algae scooped up from the pond rather than the transparent green delicately flavored salad I bought from the Russian Market. I would never be served something this weird at a sushi resturaunt. Horrible. The word "Disgusting" comes to mind. Fail.
2. Too much flour. I knew the instant I put all the flour in at once. Too much. Cookies like bricks. Fail.
Excitement of Friday has kids bouncing off the walls. Apartment is re-arranged, but it still feels like a hotel. Bare walls, perhaps.
Day 67
Afternoon train to Gumi, I meet the woman I met last Saturday. We pace the streets of downtown Gumi together until it is time to get dinner. We meet a woman from Chile selling jewelry on the street. She and I speak for a while. She seems glad to speak Spanish. My friend debates coming to Daegu. Ultimately, I board the train alone.
Evening train to Daegu, I meet the man I met last Sunday. We get directions to Club THAT. We ask several times along the way to ensure a correct path. We are way off.
Eventually we walk up to a building that is almost large and noticeably set back from the main street. The first floor has the atmosphere of an arty coffee house, we follow signs to the second floor. Musicians are taking the stage as we find a table in the crowded room. Apparently the second floor is the "Jazz Lounge". At one point, the bassist switches to something that is almost an upright base, but the body is very slim. I've never seen the instrument before.
Foreigners start filing in and are asked to pay a cover for the music or leave until the theater performance begins. Apparently the THAT has a tight schedule. We pay W5000 and keep our seats. We are soon joined by two others I know and some strangers.
The ensuing 10 min plays are reminiscent of a Bedlam Romp or No Shame Theatre. Only tamer. Once or twice, while shaking my head, I hear a quiet, "Give it a chance." I hadn't expected genius, I came in search of new experience, new people. I wanted to be an observer, and I was. And perhaps the purpose of this event was to create interest in Daegu's first Expat Theatre Troupe...which it did. The final play ends and scorecards are handed out.
The last play finishes as the last train pulls away from Daegu Station. My friend goes home to rest up for an early morning; I decide to stay up until the first train leaves...at 4am. It's already 12:30, so it shouldn't be too difficult. There is a small dance floor upstairs, which is where I head. No one is dancing. I attempt to recruit several others, and there is relative success. I split my time between the dance floor and perusing the DJ's mostly indie dance rock collection, hoping something will catch my eye. It's 2:30. A couple I met a few weeks ago happened to be in Daegu this evening as well. I go with them to a different club. We stand outside as people they know stream out shaking their heads and muttering about awful music. We linger until the music ends, then head downstairs. We leave. 3 am, back at THAT, I say goodbye. No, I don't want to stay. No, I don't want a drink. I'm just waiting for the first train, I'll see you later.
I step into the now quiet streets of central Daegu. There are a small groups of people walking here and there. Armed with my camera and sense of direction, I walk toward the train station. "Don't worry, I can read Murakami in the station, if nothing else," I'd said earlier. That is my plan now. Buy a ticket, read in the station until the train comes. Buildings, lights, advertisements with flourescent lighting are the foreground, with a black sky behind. I feel as if I'm in an abandoned city.
Near the station, a young man, maybe 18, approaches and hands me a stick of grape gum. He asks if I speak Hangul and asks me to kiss him. I have to laugh. Really hard. This is a dare, maybe? When it is clear that my answer is a serious no, he grins and runs to catch up with his friends.
I catch the 4am train and read on the way home. Train to taxi to door to bed. 5:15.
Day 68
10 am phone call. A date in Gumi with my student, Bonnie.
12 pm, I am again on a train to Gumi. I take video of the train ride. camera looking out the window pulling away from Gimcheon station, intermittently capturing the farmland and country-side until Gumi.
Bonnie meets me at the station and takes me out to lunch. DDukbokki at stalls in the market. We get coffee and then head to the Sticker-photo Store. We walk into a wonderland of glitter, pink, and purple. Add some green-screen, blue-screen, yellow-screen, and black-screen...and you have the Sticker-photo Store. Oh, and costumes. She grabs me by the hand and we race around the store, ducking into empty photo booths, trying to decide which one. Greenscreen.
The Result (actual size):
Day 69
Yoga. Work again. Electric heaters in the rooms create a unique scent. I'm not so sure it's a healthy one. A purchase of warmer lighting after work. I am convinced that flourescent lighting is partial cause of poor eyesight. Christmas lights now line my ceiling.
The hotel feel is diminishing.
Day 70
Weather is cold and rainy. Or cold and foggy. It's like being in a dense cloud.
1:30 Teacher's Meeting. Everything is in Hangul until my presentation begins. English Time! Teach, teach. Hey, teach. I wish someone would call me that. Well...no I don't. Nighttime comes and I make two attempts: seaweed salad, and sugar cookies.
two problems...
1. wrong seaweed. This seems more like algae scooped up from the pond rather than the transparent green delicately flavored salad I bought from the Russian Market. I would never be served something this weird at a sushi resturaunt. Horrible. The word "Disgusting" comes to mind. Fail.
2. Too much flour. I knew the instant I put all the flour in at once. Too much. Cookies like bricks. Fail.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
7 days
Day 55
Really? I have to go to work again? New schedule. Our classes are shifted around and around. We have a new secretary.
I open a bank account and am PAID!!! I finally get a full paycheck.
Leaves are falling off of trees, and I wear a coat on my walk to school. I don't need it during the day, but after work it is cold.
Day 56
After a failed attempt at financial transfer from South Korea to the U.S.
I buy a camera and rush to class. Something positive will happen today.
Day 57
After yesterday's pointless hour and a half at the bank, I decide to translate phrases I will need, and hopefully that will help. It does. After only 50 minutes, financial transfer is successful.
I go for a long walk. Into the woods again, out. I take photos of the trucks I see.
I decide to go to Bruce, the Traditional Medicine doctor. I will ask if he can do anything for sadness.
He calls the dentist from the first floor up to his office on the second. He hands me an orange. The dentist speaks English with more fluency, and he can help Bruce understand the nature of my sadness. I try to explain that my meloncholia is caused in large part by the high percentage of misunderstanding and miscommunication in my daily conversation with the world around me.
He prescribes Moksa treatment. I lay down on the table and he places small clay pots filled with burning mugwort on my skin. It is related to accupuncture in that stimulation of key points on the body will help the flow of energy in the body. I don't know exactly, but I'll try it out. He also give me herbal teas. I vow to find a book in English on Korean herbs.
Day 58
Yoga, coffee, and Sam-Gye Tang (a small chicken stuffed with white rice, ginseng, and a daechu berry sits in a bath of broth. Mashisayo.) with Myeong Hee before I teach.
Work is going okay. I feel that I've reached a good balance. I am strict enough to keep them from going crazy, easy-going enough to play games and have fun. The new secretary is kind of delightful. Not kind of. Delightful. "Candida!" she says, "Your hair! Like Hagrid!" "Candida! I LAh-Vuh YOU!"
Day 59
The students are trying to get me to read in Hangul for them. Every syllable I utter, no matter how stilted, earns a "WHAAAAaaaooooow". After work I walk to Bugok Dong, the other side of the city. It's not intentional, I just keep walking. Eventually I turn around. I'm restless.
Day 60
A walk to town precedes my 5 o'clock date with Sally, a Korean teacher from the Hagwon. She picks me up promptly in her small white car, and we head to a restaurant. She treats me to barlbap, a mixture of barley and rice served with soup and side dishes. I treat her to coffee at a nearby coffee-house. It is a sweet place. I would take my mother and grandmother there. Sally helps me read from a magazine, but we only get through about two or three sentences before it is time to go.
We drive up to a large building with strange architecture. Strange in its cubist shape style. We climb stairs to the entrance and wait for doors to open.
Walking inside, I am transported to 1998. The auditorium is structurally identical to that of the Community College in my hometown. Perhaps the only difference is that there are Korean characters on the seats denoting row and number, rather than English.
We listen to music until the electronic gong tells us that the show is starting. It is exactly like waiting for the Mohawk Follies to begin.
"Dalgona" is a dramatic musical that uses popular songs from various decades to evoke nostalgia in the audience. It works. The audience around me was clapping to the beat as teenagers ran from their teachers, singing along softly with ballads as a young woman waits for her sweetheart's letter, watching in silent reverence as song accompanies video footage of protests in the 1980's. During intermission, I reassure Sally that I understand what's going on, even though I don't understand Hangul. We go back and finish the show. I am kicking myself for not buying a tape recorder earlier on in the day.
She drops me off at home around 10:30 and I decide that my night is not over. I will go to Gumi. I met the new owner of a bar a few weeks ago, and the official opening is tonight. I can go have a beer, maybe see some people I've met, and come home in a couple hours.
Where is the bar?
I follow the directions, but I am unsure. I had counted on seeing people standing outside (forgetting that smoking is allowed inside). There is a foreign woman approaching. I ask if she knows where "Corona" is. As it happens, it is just across the street and she is going there herself. We walk in together and shortly decide to leave to see if anything is going on elsewhere. Neither of us are familiar with the crowd in Corona, both of us were hoping for more dancing. We head to Psycho, and linger in the doorway, as the bar is nearly dead. We are cajoled inside, and hesitantly step in. Once those few steps are taken, we are being watched over by a giant man, who apparently wants us to come all the way in and go to the bar. Okay.
We go up to the bar.
What do you want to drink? Do I have to? I feel a little uneasy.
She and I ignore the others and talk with each other. We eventually decide to dance by ourselves. As I turn around, the Giant hands me a pool cue.
"A Game! Pool, you play pool. What do you want to drink? A Budweiser?"
I look at her and shrug. I'll play a game, then dancing. The game proceeds with the usual amount of talking down the opponent, but I win.
"He let you win."
I am feeling more at ease, and the dance floor opens up. Impromptu synchronized dance with the giant gets the bar laughing, and I am having a good time. Oh no! What time is it? Okay, I have a few more minutes. OH NO!! TIME!! I HAVE TO GO!
I grab my bag and jacket and sprint out the door. The Giant runs down the stairs after me.
"Where are you going? Why you have to running??"
"TRAIN! I have to catch my train!"
"Catch next!" He catches my hand to slow me down.
This continues to the train station, where he assures me that I won't be able to buy a ticket. I shake my head and quickly walk down to the platform. I will just not buy one. A bus! take a bus! There are buses from Gumi to Gimcheon, take a bus!
I narrowly miss the train. NARROWLY.
"This is your fault," I say. Of course it's not entirely his fault, I could have left earlier. I should have. But maybe I can take a bus. I'll take a bus. We run into someone I know, who informs us that yes, there is a bus, but it won't run until 4am.
There is a collective gasp as I walk back into the bar. An upside to this turn of events is that I can get the woman's phone number. There wasn't time before.
Chat chat chat chat...is it 4 yet? no? not even close? chat chat I am tired. chat. I am going to get a hotel room. chat chat. You will get me a hotel room? I will have a SINGLE hotel room, which I will stay in, ALONE. You understand? ALONE. Me. Alone. Nice to meet you, Goodnight.
In the middle of the night I hear screaming outside of my window. I walk over and look out to see a Korean woman wildy waving her arms in general drunken rage. Her friends cannot quiet her, others cannot quiet her, police arrive and cannot quiet her, in fact, at the arrival of the police, her outburst reaches a level of hysteria and continues for an amazing amount of time. I see three men taken into one police car, and eventually she and another are placed in another. Whoa. Rolling Stone Western Bar...what kind of place are you? I go back to sleep, shaking my head at the weirdness of this existence.
Day 61
I wake, prepare for the day, turn in the key, and head for Daegu. Standing room on the train is a falsity, there are plenty of open seats.
I wander through three foot alleys lined with vendors preparing for the day. I have arrived early and few stores are fully open. Not wanting to be the first customer to enter any store, I am a true window shopper. I read somewhere that the first customer in a store sets the tone for the day. Whether or not that's true, I don't know...regardless, I don't want the responsibility. Purchases will eventually occur.
More footsteps lead me to Kyobo, a large bookstore. There is a reasonably sized English section and I head over to find something new. There is another perusing the wall. He looks about my age and I notice that the books he looks carefully at are good, by my estimation. I go out on a limb and ask if he would like to go for lunch.
Over coffee, I learn that although he is newer to Korea than I, he knows about some arts districts in Daegu. Specifically, he knows about a photography show at the Daegu Art and Cultural Center. This is thrilling. We go and I thoroughly enjoy the show. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that some involvement in current art/culture in Korea is possible. It has been a difficulty; not knowing how or where to view or show art. The show itself is very good. It is the Daegu Photography Biennial, featuring new digital work, older photos of North Korea, work by Chinese, Japanese, and Korean photographers.
Outside the station, I pass an old man playing Venture's style guitar through a portable amp. He is accompanied by an old woman, singing into a microphone. I wish again that I had a tape recorder in hand.
New clothes, new books, new friend. Great day. I board the train at 18:54.
Really? I have to go to work again? New schedule. Our classes are shifted around and around. We have a new secretary.
I open a bank account and am PAID!!! I finally get a full paycheck.
Leaves are falling off of trees, and I wear a coat on my walk to school. I don't need it during the day, but after work it is cold.
Day 56
After a failed attempt at financial transfer from South Korea to the U.S.
I buy a camera and rush to class. Something positive will happen today.
Day 57
After yesterday's pointless hour and a half at the bank, I decide to translate phrases I will need, and hopefully that will help. It does. After only 50 minutes, financial transfer is successful.
I go for a long walk. Into the woods again, out. I take photos of the trucks I see.
I decide to go to Bruce, the Traditional Medicine doctor. I will ask if he can do anything for sadness.
He calls the dentist from the first floor up to his office on the second. He hands me an orange. The dentist speaks English with more fluency, and he can help Bruce understand the nature of my sadness. I try to explain that my meloncholia is caused in large part by the high percentage of misunderstanding and miscommunication in my daily conversation with the world around me.
He prescribes Moksa treatment. I lay down on the table and he places small clay pots filled with burning mugwort on my skin. It is related to accupuncture in that stimulation of key points on the body will help the flow of energy in the body. I don't know exactly, but I'll try it out. He also give me herbal teas. I vow to find a book in English on Korean herbs.
Day 58
Yoga, coffee, and Sam-Gye Tang (a small chicken stuffed with white rice, ginseng, and a daechu berry sits in a bath of broth. Mashisayo.) with Myeong Hee before I teach.
Work is going okay. I feel that I've reached a good balance. I am strict enough to keep them from going crazy, easy-going enough to play games and have fun. The new secretary is kind of delightful. Not kind of. Delightful. "Candida!" she says, "Your hair! Like Hagrid!" "Candida! I LAh-Vuh YOU!"
Day 59
The students are trying to get me to read in Hangul for them. Every syllable I utter, no matter how stilted, earns a "WHAAAAaaaooooow". After work I walk to Bugok Dong, the other side of the city. It's not intentional, I just keep walking. Eventually I turn around. I'm restless.
Day 60
A walk to town precedes my 5 o'clock date with Sally, a Korean teacher from the Hagwon. She picks me up promptly in her small white car, and we head to a restaurant. She treats me to barlbap, a mixture of barley and rice served with soup and side dishes. I treat her to coffee at a nearby coffee-house. It is a sweet place. I would take my mother and grandmother there. Sally helps me read from a magazine, but we only get through about two or three sentences before it is time to go.
We drive up to a large building with strange architecture. Strange in its cubist shape style. We climb stairs to the entrance and wait for doors to open.
Walking inside, I am transported to 1998. The auditorium is structurally identical to that of the Community College in my hometown. Perhaps the only difference is that there are Korean characters on the seats denoting row and number, rather than English.
We listen to music until the electronic gong tells us that the show is starting. It is exactly like waiting for the Mohawk Follies to begin.
"Dalgona" is a dramatic musical that uses popular songs from various decades to evoke nostalgia in the audience. It works. The audience around me was clapping to the beat as teenagers ran from their teachers, singing along softly with ballads as a young woman waits for her sweetheart's letter, watching in silent reverence as song accompanies video footage of protests in the 1980's. During intermission, I reassure Sally that I understand what's going on, even though I don't understand Hangul. We go back and finish the show. I am kicking myself for not buying a tape recorder earlier on in the day.
She drops me off at home around 10:30 and I decide that my night is not over. I will go to Gumi. I met the new owner of a bar a few weeks ago, and the official opening is tonight. I can go have a beer, maybe see some people I've met, and come home in a couple hours.
Where is the bar?
I follow the directions, but I am unsure. I had counted on seeing people standing outside (forgetting that smoking is allowed inside). There is a foreign woman approaching. I ask if she knows where "Corona" is. As it happens, it is just across the street and she is going there herself. We walk in together and shortly decide to leave to see if anything is going on elsewhere. Neither of us are familiar with the crowd in Corona, both of us were hoping for more dancing. We head to Psycho, and linger in the doorway, as the bar is nearly dead. We are cajoled inside, and hesitantly step in. Once those few steps are taken, we are being watched over by a giant man, who apparently wants us to come all the way in and go to the bar. Okay.
We go up to the bar.
What do you want to drink? Do I have to? I feel a little uneasy.
She and I ignore the others and talk with each other. We eventually decide to dance by ourselves. As I turn around, the Giant hands me a pool cue.
"A Game! Pool, you play pool. What do you want to drink? A Budweiser?"
I look at her and shrug. I'll play a game, then dancing. The game proceeds with the usual amount of talking down the opponent, but I win.
"He let you win."
I am feeling more at ease, and the dance floor opens up. Impromptu synchronized dance with the giant gets the bar laughing, and I am having a good time. Oh no! What time is it? Okay, I have a few more minutes. OH NO!! TIME!! I HAVE TO GO!
I grab my bag and jacket and sprint out the door. The Giant runs down the stairs after me.
"Where are you going? Why you have to running??"
"TRAIN! I have to catch my train!"
"Catch next!" He catches my hand to slow me down.
This continues to the train station, where he assures me that I won't be able to buy a ticket. I shake my head and quickly walk down to the platform. I will just not buy one. A bus! take a bus! There are buses from Gumi to Gimcheon, take a bus!
I narrowly miss the train. NARROWLY.
"This is your fault," I say. Of course it's not entirely his fault, I could have left earlier. I should have. But maybe I can take a bus. I'll take a bus. We run into someone I know, who informs us that yes, there is a bus, but it won't run until 4am.
There is a collective gasp as I walk back into the bar. An upside to this turn of events is that I can get the woman's phone number. There wasn't time before.
Chat chat chat chat...is it 4 yet? no? not even close? chat chat I am tired. chat. I am going to get a hotel room. chat chat. You will get me a hotel room? I will have a SINGLE hotel room, which I will stay in, ALONE. You understand? ALONE. Me. Alone. Nice to meet you, Goodnight.
In the middle of the night I hear screaming outside of my window. I walk over and look out to see a Korean woman wildy waving her arms in general drunken rage. Her friends cannot quiet her, others cannot quiet her, police arrive and cannot quiet her, in fact, at the arrival of the police, her outburst reaches a level of hysteria and continues for an amazing amount of time. I see three men taken into one police car, and eventually she and another are placed in another. Whoa. Rolling Stone Western Bar...what kind of place are you? I go back to sleep, shaking my head at the weirdness of this existence.
Day 61
I wake, prepare for the day, turn in the key, and head for Daegu. Standing room on the train is a falsity, there are plenty of open seats.
I wander through three foot alleys lined with vendors preparing for the day. I have arrived early and few stores are fully open. Not wanting to be the first customer to enter any store, I am a true window shopper. I read somewhere that the first customer in a store sets the tone for the day. Whether or not that's true, I don't know...regardless, I don't want the responsibility. Purchases will eventually occur.
More footsteps lead me to Kyobo, a large bookstore. There is a reasonably sized English section and I head over to find something new. There is another perusing the wall. He looks about my age and I notice that the books he looks carefully at are good, by my estimation. I go out on a limb and ask if he would like to go for lunch.
Over coffee, I learn that although he is newer to Korea than I, he knows about some arts districts in Daegu. Specifically, he knows about a photography show at the Daegu Art and Cultural Center. This is thrilling. We go and I thoroughly enjoy the show. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that some involvement in current art/culture in Korea is possible. It has been a difficulty; not knowing how or where to view or show art. The show itself is very good. It is the Daegu Photography Biennial, featuring new digital work, older photos of North Korea, work by Chinese, Japanese, and Korean photographers.
Outside the station, I pass an old man playing Venture's style guitar through a portable amp. He is accompanied by an old woman, singing into a microphone. I wish again that I had a tape recorder in hand.
New clothes, new books, new friend. Great day. I board the train at 18:54.
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