Dear X,
I wish I could say I've been writing letters to you during my time away. That would be romantic. But I haven't. I haven't been logging my daily adventures to share with you at a later date, and yes, after nearly 9 months, the adventures are still daily.
I have climbed in mountian mists to later fall in the rain and see frogs at the mountaintop. Jirisan* feels like mothering arms according to any Korean. Weeks of teaching through the golden hour are capped by hikes and train rides. Posing in Seoul Station with a grand piano, my protests pushed aside, "But, Mr. Hong-o-Bong, I DON'T PLAY PIANO" went hand in hand with shouts of "This is PHILADELPHIA! ACTION! ACTION!" subway rides and pigeons in a Temple's Main Hall. And phone calls. "CANDIDA! THIS is Mr. HONGOBONG! HONGOBONG! MR. HONGOBONG! I have Great Idea for you!" phone calls, in which my name has gradually morphed: PAGAN! PAGANICAN! PELICAN! I have GREAT IDEA for YOU!
Opposite weekends on the opposite side of the country are spent in taxis, at japanese resturaunts, and on mountainsides. There is a tiny dog, Yoko, who digs in my hair when she can't find my face, and her owner, who is wonderful. I gave my first tattoo. It's an eye. It floats between a dragonhead and a cloud. Completely sober, he dropped his pants on the street to show it to a friend. "Candida! It's okay! It's only me."
Back home, I have become a regular at the makkoli place, where I go mostly for the 두부 김치 (tofu with kimchi) and company. It seems that they smile at 3 or 4, get nervous at 5 or 6, and stressed at 7 or 8 of us waegooks communaly bemoaning our fate at landing in Gimcheon. Bemoaning isn't quite accurate. It is delightful in many ways. My Busan friend delights in calling me a "Country Girl".
I'm not sure how much time is left here. It was requested that I stay another month. At the time I was unsure. As of late, I am prone to accept the offer. We'll see. Waves of friend-sickness still hit hard. I have dreams of drinking coffee and playing cards on my grandmother's porch with her and my mother in the afternoon. We'll see.
I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you are.
xo
Candida
*Jirisan = Jiri Mountain
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Un-Numbered Days
Special Coffee (or tea)
This all began when I made afternoon coffee for a friend. He, shocked at how it was actual coffee, not the instant mix so often found in homes and offices, dubbed it Special Coffee. I have taken to preparing "special tea", i.e., any tea that is not from a teabag, for us frequently. Sometimes he brings oranges or an individually wrapped cookie snack pack. No romance, so scratch that thought. It's nice company and a good way to finish the day. Somewhat similar to my homeland habits. Thus far, Rosemary-ginger tea is in the lead. I am open to suggestions.
3 days in Gyeongju
Solo SSAM BAP in the Knick-Knack Room
I arrive in the ancient city, Gyeong-ju, in the evening on Dec. 30. Alone, I first locate the bus station where my tour begins in the morning. I then proceed to give myself a walking tour of the Tomb Park area, hoping to find the restaurant that Lonely Plant says is filled with an "Eclectic collection of birds, rocks, figurines, pottery, and other folk arts..." Although unaware of exactly what Ssam Bap is, I don't really care. I just want to be in that atmosphere. So, I walk. And I walk. I come across many things: an ancient observatory, an eerie ice-house, a tempting path into the forest, a series of canals and wooden docks, a royal pond...but no such restaurant.
I pass a place along the way that piques my interest. There are two large masks on the outside, and as I pass, I notice that the rear windows of the building are filled with plants. I redirect my route from Lonely Planet's map to my own mental map and re-find the building. It is indeed a ssam bap restaurant, and I go inside.
First I pass traditional drums, then a closet sized room filled with stab-bound books, a piano-esque instrument, and plants. Then comes the antiquated machinery...spindles, mills, farming implements. Finally I reach the area where I must de-shoe. I place my shoes among the others and step into a room filled with mid-20th century newspaper clippings, stamps, postcards, old etchings, mini-masks, fishing gear, china plates, a spoon collection, plants, and on and on and on. I had ordered for one when I entered the room and I arrange my things while I am served. First, the leaves; one plate steamed, the other raw: lettuce, sesame leaves, chard, seaweed, and cabbage. Next come the soups; two kinds. Then the side dishes. One after another, she set dishes in front of me, until there were perhaps 16 side dishes on the table. I sneak glances at other customers in order to figure out how to eat this feast. They take a leaf and lay it in one hand. With their chopsticks, they scoop up some rice, a side-dish or four, and place it inside the leaf. Setting the chopsticks down, they fold the leaf into a little package and place the whole thing in their mouths. I follow suit and eat my fill.
In Hanjin
That night I find Hanjin Hostel. As I walk in, an old man beckons me into the room behind the glass. I enter to see that he is warming his knees in front of a heating fan. He motions for me to sit down on the blanket next to him, and I do so. He then hands me 5 or 6 photo albums. "Photos," he says, "Look," then turns on the TV. I spend the next 45 minutes flipping through pages, watching him age with each new album. At one point, he erupts with laughter, and I look up at the TV to witness members of Parliament leaping over tables, fists clenched, murderous looks on their faces. One man is caught by the ankles and dragged through a hallway out of Parliament. Another is carried by his arms and legs, furiously thrashing. This is almost as good as the time I was watching TV at E-Mart, and saw them chopping through a chained door with a full sized ax. Korean government seems to be rather dramatic. I'm not sure what they're so upset about, but the old man next to me is definately getting a kick out of it. Soon, I ask about getting a room and am shown upstairs.
Candida, the Midnight Bell Ringer
New Year's Eve Day passes without incident. I go on a bus tour of Gyeong-ju, and see the major sights over 8 hours. There are three other foreigners on the bus and we are seated together. Two of the three girls are visiting their friend who is teaching for a year in Daegu.
I return to the Hostel and take a nap. I wake and attempt to solidify my plans. I want to visit Bulguksa Temple at midnight for the bell ringing, and then sojourn to Seokguram Grotto to see the sun rise over the East Sea. I have been told there are buses, so I must find one. While I sit in the common room, pouring over my guidebooks, two Japanese men who are staying down the hall come upstairs. One sits down on an opposite couch and motions to ask if I mind if he smokes. I let him know I don't. Through gestures, visual aids, and simplified English, I tell him of my plan.
10 pm - He and his roomate decide to join me, and soon we set out in search of a bus. We search, only to be informed that there is no such bus. Two Korean tourists, eager to practice English, invite us to share a taxi. I get the front seat, and the price is nearly the same as the bus would have been. Fortune i smiling. Upon reaching the Bulguksa parking lot, we are told that Bulguksa is closed, but there is a free shuttle bus to Seokguram. The three of us decide to see for ourselves, and traipse up a moonlit path to the gates of Bulguksa. Trees line the path and dot the hillside as we approached a chained entrance. Hiro, in his white loafers, starts to hop over the chain, but halts and gives a sheepish bow to the security guard on duty. He giggles his way back to us, and the three of us start back along the path to the shuttle buses.
11:30 pm - We step off the bus in front of a trailer where people are handing out hot ommuk in bowls of broth. To our left, a stage is set, and a rock group is performing. Wind is blowing, snow flurries, hair and artificial smoke whip around the faces of the rockers. "YEEEAAAAHHHHHHH YEAH ooohhh yyyyeeeeEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!"
We join the huddling mass of people. As the rockers finish, three monks take the stage to deliver speeches and motion to the large bell in its housing, some 100 meters past the stage and up the hill. Hiro notices people starting to climb the stairs and line up at the bell pagoda. He looks at Hideki and I before giggling again and skipping away to sprint up the stairs. We follow shortly...
. . . TO BE CONTINUED
This all began when I made afternoon coffee for a friend. He, shocked at how it was actual coffee, not the instant mix so often found in homes and offices, dubbed it Special Coffee. I have taken to preparing "special tea", i.e., any tea that is not from a teabag, for us frequently. Sometimes he brings oranges or an individually wrapped cookie snack pack. No romance, so scratch that thought. It's nice company and a good way to finish the day. Somewhat similar to my homeland habits. Thus far, Rosemary-ginger tea is in the lead. I am open to suggestions.
3 days in Gyeongju
Solo SSAM BAP in the Knick-Knack Room
I arrive in the ancient city, Gyeong-ju, in the evening on Dec. 30. Alone, I first locate the bus station where my tour begins in the morning. I then proceed to give myself a walking tour of the Tomb Park area, hoping to find the restaurant that Lonely Plant says is filled with an "Eclectic collection of birds, rocks, figurines, pottery, and other folk arts..." Although unaware of exactly what Ssam Bap is, I don't really care. I just want to be in that atmosphere. So, I walk. And I walk. I come across many things: an ancient observatory, an eerie ice-house, a tempting path into the forest, a series of canals and wooden docks, a royal pond...but no such restaurant.
I pass a place along the way that piques my interest. There are two large masks on the outside, and as I pass, I notice that the rear windows of the building are filled with plants. I redirect my route from Lonely Planet's map to my own mental map and re-find the building. It is indeed a ssam bap restaurant, and I go inside.
First I pass traditional drums, then a closet sized room filled with stab-bound books, a piano-esque instrument, and plants. Then comes the antiquated machinery...spindles, mills, farming implements. Finally I reach the area where I must de-shoe. I place my shoes among the others and step into a room filled with mid-20th century newspaper clippings, stamps, postcards, old etchings, mini-masks, fishing gear, china plates, a spoon collection, plants, and on and on and on. I had ordered for one when I entered the room and I arrange my things while I am served. First, the leaves; one plate steamed, the other raw: lettuce, sesame leaves, chard, seaweed, and cabbage. Next come the soups; two kinds. Then the side dishes. One after another, she set dishes in front of me, until there were perhaps 16 side dishes on the table. I sneak glances at other customers in order to figure out how to eat this feast. They take a leaf and lay it in one hand. With their chopsticks, they scoop up some rice, a side-dish or four, and place it inside the leaf. Setting the chopsticks down, they fold the leaf into a little package and place the whole thing in their mouths. I follow suit and eat my fill.
In Hanjin
That night I find Hanjin Hostel. As I walk in, an old man beckons me into the room behind the glass. I enter to see that he is warming his knees in front of a heating fan. He motions for me to sit down on the blanket next to him, and I do so. He then hands me 5 or 6 photo albums. "Photos," he says, "Look," then turns on the TV. I spend the next 45 minutes flipping through pages, watching him age with each new album. At one point, he erupts with laughter, and I look up at the TV to witness members of Parliament leaping over tables, fists clenched, murderous looks on their faces. One man is caught by the ankles and dragged through a hallway out of Parliament. Another is carried by his arms and legs, furiously thrashing. This is almost as good as the time I was watching TV at E-Mart, and saw them chopping through a chained door with a full sized ax. Korean government seems to be rather dramatic. I'm not sure what they're so upset about, but the old man next to me is definately getting a kick out of it. Soon, I ask about getting a room and am shown upstairs.
Candida, the Midnight Bell Ringer
New Year's Eve Day passes without incident. I go on a bus tour of Gyeong-ju, and see the major sights over 8 hours. There are three other foreigners on the bus and we are seated together. Two of the three girls are visiting their friend who is teaching for a year in Daegu.
I return to the Hostel and take a nap. I wake and attempt to solidify my plans. I want to visit Bulguksa Temple at midnight for the bell ringing, and then sojourn to Seokguram Grotto to see the sun rise over the East Sea. I have been told there are buses, so I must find one. While I sit in the common room, pouring over my guidebooks, two Japanese men who are staying down the hall come upstairs. One sits down on an opposite couch and motions to ask if I mind if he smokes. I let him know I don't. Through gestures, visual aids, and simplified English, I tell him of my plan.
10 pm - He and his roomate decide to join me, and soon we set out in search of a bus. We search, only to be informed that there is no such bus. Two Korean tourists, eager to practice English, invite us to share a taxi. I get the front seat, and the price is nearly the same as the bus would have been. Fortune i smiling. Upon reaching the Bulguksa parking lot, we are told that Bulguksa is closed, but there is a free shuttle bus to Seokguram. The three of us decide to see for ourselves, and traipse up a moonlit path to the gates of Bulguksa. Trees line the path and dot the hillside as we approached a chained entrance. Hiro, in his white loafers, starts to hop over the chain, but halts and gives a sheepish bow to the security guard on duty. He giggles his way back to us, and the three of us start back along the path to the shuttle buses.
11:30 pm - We step off the bus in front of a trailer where people are handing out hot ommuk in bowls of broth. To our left, a stage is set, and a rock group is performing. Wind is blowing, snow flurries, hair and artificial smoke whip around the faces of the rockers. "YEEEAAAAHHHHHHH YEAH ooohhh yyyyeeeeEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!"
We join the huddling mass of people. As the rockers finish, three monks take the stage to deliver speeches and motion to the large bell in its housing, some 100 meters past the stage and up the hill. Hiro notices people starting to climb the stairs and line up at the bell pagoda. He looks at Hideki and I before giggling again and skipping away to sprint up the stairs. We follow shortly...
. . . TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, September 21, 2008
send me some mad libs
I am standing again. The rug pulled from underneath me in the form of a 13 hour time difference has been put back in place. Mostly. My newly illiterate status will take slightly longer to adjust to and correct.
My general habit of immediately orienting myself in the current location has been shoved aside. Instead, I orient myself to a new occupation, a new life while having the luxury of someone to train me. I am a replacement; the woman whose life I'll be taking over leaves in four days. My life will be my own of course, however, I will assume her job, her home, her telephone, her bills, her clothes, many of her acquaintances...they'll be mine. So, let's just say I'm taking her place in Gimcheon, S. Korea. It feels strange.
DAY 1
4:44 am After being in transit for nearly 20 hours, I am off the plane at Incheon. I take a bus to Seoul where I catch a train to Gimcheon. I arrive in Gimcheon at nearly 11. Angela meets me, and we grab a coffee and glutinous rice donuts at Dunkin' before buying slippers, exchanging money, and taking a taxi home. After a shower, we go to Temple Food (where I will take anyone who visits me) for temple food with vegetarian bibimbap and a variety of amazing kimchi. We leave Temple Food and walk past a row of trees inhabited by enormous spiders on the way to a street where we will catch a taxi. I go to Prime Hagwon with Angela to A.) see where it is B.) maybe meet some co-workers and students and C.) perhaps sit in on a class. Angela opens the door to one classroom to say hello. The students all say hello save one boy, who is very into grimacing and gnashing of teeth at me, with accompanying audio.
I do all of these things. I am exhausted. I go home. I fall asleep at 5 p.m., Angela returns from yoga, I wake up, eat something, and fall asleep again until...
DAY 2
6 a.m. I wake. Mrs. Lee once wrote to me in an e-mail "as soon as early," which I dismissed as a mistake, but it does make sense, if one is in a hurry. 9 a.m. rolls around as Angela and I carry on morning activities. We go to "Bruce" the traditional medicine doctor at the community clinic. He is young and fulfilling military duty. I get acupuncture on my shoulder while Angela chats with Bruce and the nurses. She has a knack for getting through shyness. The day goes on, I go to the school at 4 p.m. to meet Mrs. Lee, chat with her for an hour, then sit in on Angela's classes. The first class screamed at the sight of me.
DAY 3
The kids are excited to see me as I walk up. My name has spread by now, some of them shorten it to "Candi", but not most. It's exciting to have a new person around, especially a new foreign teacher. Maybe glitter stickers will rain from her hands. Maybe she's a former gangster whose birds will follow her forever! Maybe she will hold students upside down by their ankles and teach them American parlour tricks while singing romantic ballad style. Oh, and little animal- shaped erasers will fly out of her mouth like a fountain. Or maybe it will be sour gummy candy.
At night we go to a resturaunt. Chusok rice wine is gifted, entertaining converastion is had, giant kimchi pots line the garden outside. Have I made mention of gardens?
They are everywhere. Pumpkins grow on roofs.
DAY 4
8:10 a.m. We are picked up by Mr. Shil and driven to a middle school in rural Gimcheon. English camp with 13-15 year olds will be my first teaching experience. 45 minutes-break-repeat x 4. It goes so well. We play a game similar to 20 questions, we draw on the chalkboard, we play bingo. Great. They all listen, and contrary to a comment made the previous night "middle schoolers? they're evil." These kids were such fun. so much fun. Also I ate some kind of sugared pre-packaged hamburger.
Evening brings Jon Stewart via the internet. Nighttime brings a trip to Gumi, introductions to new friends, shabu shabu, and the Waygook Grill (foreigner bar). It is Angela's going away party and three of us: Angela, Myoung He, and I leave together on a train for Gimcheon.
Day 5
I wake up, I walk, I read, I blog. I wonder how long it will take before I can remember how to tell a taxi driver where I need to go in Hangul (Korean language). Perhaps finding discounted electronics will not be as simple as I thought. I want someone to send me some mad libs.
My general habit of immediately orienting myself in the current location has been shoved aside. Instead, I orient myself to a new occupation, a new life while having the luxury of someone to train me. I am a replacement; the woman whose life I'll be taking over leaves in four days. My life will be my own of course, however, I will assume her job, her home, her telephone, her bills, her clothes, many of her acquaintances...they'll be mine. So, let's just say I'm taking her place in Gimcheon, S. Korea. It feels strange.
DAY 1
4:44 am After being in transit for nearly 20 hours, I am off the plane at Incheon. I take a bus to Seoul where I catch a train to Gimcheon. I arrive in Gimcheon at nearly 11. Angela meets me, and we grab a coffee and glutinous rice donuts at Dunkin' before buying slippers, exchanging money, and taking a taxi home. After a shower, we go to Temple Food (where I will take anyone who visits me) for temple food with vegetarian bibimbap and a variety of amazing kimchi. We leave Temple Food and walk past a row of trees inhabited by enormous spiders on the way to a street where we will catch a taxi. I go to Prime Hagwon with Angela to A.) see where it is B.) maybe meet some co-workers and students and C.) perhaps sit in on a class. Angela opens the door to one classroom to say hello. The students all say hello save one boy, who is very into grimacing and gnashing of teeth at me, with accompanying audio.
I do all of these things. I am exhausted. I go home. I fall asleep at 5 p.m., Angela returns from yoga, I wake up, eat something, and fall asleep again until...
DAY 2
6 a.m. I wake. Mrs. Lee once wrote to me in an e-mail "as soon as early," which I dismissed as a mistake, but it does make sense, if one is in a hurry. 9 a.m. rolls around as Angela and I carry on morning activities. We go to "Bruce" the traditional medicine doctor at the community clinic. He is young and fulfilling military duty. I get acupuncture on my shoulder while Angela chats with Bruce and the nurses. She has a knack for getting through shyness. The day goes on, I go to the school at 4 p.m. to meet Mrs. Lee, chat with her for an hour, then sit in on Angela's classes. The first class screamed at the sight of me.
DAY 3
The kids are excited to see me as I walk up. My name has spread by now, some of them shorten it to "Candi", but not most. It's exciting to have a new person around, especially a new foreign teacher. Maybe glitter stickers will rain from her hands. Maybe she's a former gangster whose birds will follow her forever! Maybe she will hold students upside down by their ankles and teach them American parlour tricks while singing romantic ballad style. Oh, and little animal- shaped erasers will fly out of her mouth like a fountain. Or maybe it will be sour gummy candy.
At night we go to a resturaunt. Chusok rice wine is gifted, entertaining converastion is had, giant kimchi pots line the garden outside. Have I made mention of gardens?
They are everywhere. Pumpkins grow on roofs.
DAY 4
8:10 a.m. We are picked up by Mr. Shil and driven to a middle school in rural Gimcheon. English camp with 13-15 year olds will be my first teaching experience. 45 minutes-break-repeat x 4. It goes so well. We play a game similar to 20 questions, we draw on the chalkboard, we play bingo. Great. They all listen, and contrary to a comment made the previous night "middle schoolers? they're evil." These kids were such fun. so much fun. Also I ate some kind of sugared pre-packaged hamburger.
Evening brings Jon Stewart via the internet. Nighttime brings a trip to Gumi, introductions to new friends, shabu shabu, and the Waygook Grill (foreigner bar). It is Angela's going away party and three of us: Angela, Myoung He, and I leave together on a train for Gimcheon.
Day 5
I wake up, I walk, I read, I blog. I wonder how long it will take before I can remember how to tell a taxi driver where I need to go in Hangul (Korean language). Perhaps finding discounted electronics will not be as simple as I thought. I want someone to send me some mad libs.
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