It was early morning and I was walking around some district in Seoul where there were supposed to be many motels. Like most advanced nations, in Korea there is a huge division between the rich and the poor, and a huge price division for tourist-aimed hotels and cheap motels. I hadn't booked my tickets through a travel agency, instead hoping to use the cheap motels which were apparently all over the place. I was carrying my bag, of which the strap had conveniently just broken. I tried walking around several streets, but none of the signs made any sense to me. It was all in Hangul script, which I love the look of. But at this time, I wished Japan had never invaded Korea and forbidden teaching of Korean. See, traditional Korean uses Chinese script, which I can at least grasp the meaning of. When I was in Shanghai, I was able to read a lot of the station names, shop names, and even grasp the general genre of the items on menus. It had logic to it. Once, I was buying illegally copied DVDs of the entire Seinfeld series, but I was sceptical that the package contained enough CDs. The stall owner pointed to the label which assured me there were 5 DVDs inside. I bought them and when I walked away, I realised that the label had of course been in Chinese. Chinese had some logic for me.
But since the end of the war, Korea used less and less Chinese script, and now it is very rare to see it on signs. And now I was lost trying to find a motel with only cute meaningless pictures on them ("which way up do they go?"). I used a phrase book to ask for a motel, but every time people would shrug. I took a break at a coffee shop. I tried again, hauling my inconvenient bag behind me. Amazingly, I found a sign that read "motel" in English. I was quickly dissappointed when I found out it was an internet cafe with a fare of over double of what I was prepared to pay for an overnight stay. Back to another coffee shop. It was now mid afternoon, so I decided to try another district.
It was the same story. It now also began raining. It began looking hopeless. I was now prepared to stay out the whole night, resting at coffee shops or stations until the morning. I wanted to do some shopping in the meantime, so I went downtown. There was an information with English help. Maybe they could help me. I was given directions to two different hotels. I couldn't afford hotels, but I was also told there were cheap motels right by Seoul Station. I took a walk. I swear, by now my arm had doubled in length from carrying my bags. I asked for more specific directions at the station information centre. The stupid bitch looked at me, and without saying anything handed me two brochures. They were both hotels. I can't afford hotels! Especially not ones with their own brochures! One of them was for the Hilton. See, thats the problem with tourism as an industry. The host countries are so focused on "injecting money" into the "local economy", and expect tourists to recklessly drop cash to aid their "national prosperity". Especially someone like me, who is obviously a wealthy American Industrialist. I love travelling, but hate tourism. I walked straight to a rubbish bin and continued my search. Now it was personal.
But soon I was rewarded. My search had taken about 9 hours and 4 districts of Seoul.
So there I was in my own motel room. Actually, it was a little bit different. Japan has love hotels where unmarried-but-still-living-at-home singles can go, but it Korea there is no real distinction between Motels and Love hotels. I was staying at a "theme motel". It was lit by a romantic black light and the checkout and hallways were tastefull decorated with plastic plants and stars on the ceilings. The room itself wasn't tacky, so much as manky. The theme appeared to be a run-down hotel room from the 60s. The waincotting was peeling, the carpet was worn, each wall had a different faded design of flowered wallpaper and there were dark stains on the duvet. All the amenites came in twos. Pillows, cups, toothbrushes and drinks. There was a 3-pack of condoms (empty). It was not the cleanest place, but dammit, I had scoured the entire metropolis to find this place. I was pretty tired and took a rest. I hadn't seen Korean TV before, and I won't be sad if I never do again. It is like Japanese TV except it is obvious that they are on a budget. There exists exactly one type of canned laughter in the entire country, andit is applied liberally. I kept channel surfing until I found some live international womens volleyball. Korea got beaten. CNN. Then, on more channel surfing I was reminded on the type of accomodation I was staying at. One channel was overseas adult entertainment which made me miss the Japanese tradition of blurring out the naughty bits. The other channel was obviously Korean adult entertainment (i.e. it was obviously on a budget). It was simply a bad-ass looking guy hammering a girl from all angles, to the soundtrack of early 90's euro-trash techno-pop. I used to love euro-trash techno-pop, so there I was, by myself, singing along to porn in a Korean love hotel. This is a lasting impression of Korea for me.
I woke up at 3AM to the sounds of a girl in distress. Oh no... I truly hoped it was someone watching the television with the volume up high. I checked. Damn... So it is fair to say that it was far from a good night's sleep. I made sure not to touch anything after taking my shower before leaving. Luckily, this was my last night in Korea. I had abused my friends and her mothers hospitality for the other 6 nights, and I was so glad that I had.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Korea: Eating
Korea, Part II: eating.
Maybe this is showing how much I've become Japanese, when my 2nd chapter on a foreign holiday is about food. However, food was a highlight, and being there for 7 nights, I had at least 40 meals. See, people in Japan often ask me what my favourite Japanese food is. I usually reply "don-buri". Japan has these "fast food" restaurants with stuff-on-rice: "don", the most popular of which is cringingly translated to "beef bowl". That doesn't sound like something I would voluntarily eat myself. But basically, the don is plain rice with some some kind of meat and onion/ mix. They are delicious, and provide the most hunger relief for the least amount of yen. I am a big fan. My favourite flavour happens to be called the "bibinba-don". This is some miraculous combination of meat, kim-chi, bamboo and other wierd vegetables, and egg. It is incredible, and unlike any other flavour.
The reason for this; it isn't Japanese. It is an approximation of Korean "bibimbap". You see, all Japanese food pretty much tastes the same. I had a heated argument with a Japanese person that Yaki-niku, suki-yaki, and shabu-shabu is exactly the same. They are all plain meat, cabbage and other vegetables. The only difference is that one is cooked on a hot-plate and dipped in sauce, one is boiled and dipped in egg, and one is boiled and dipped in sauce. When I was translating for the Dutch group that came in April, we had these three meals on consecutive nights. On the last night, they asked me, out of Japanese earshot: "how is this different to the other 2 nights?".
Don't get me wrong, it is delicious. But there is a lack of flavour. You even find yourself craving the taste of plain white rice (which they annoyingly serve at the end). There is such a limited range of flavours in Japan. The only spices people generally use is salt or pepper. They even sell okonomiyaki sauce, takoyaki sauce and tonkatsu sauce in separate bottles with different labels, while being EXACTLY the same. I think Japanese cuisine is based on a deep respect for the actual flavour of stuff. Fish tastes like fish, meat tastes like meat, vegetables taste like vegetables (and sometimes fish). My point is, although Japanese food is delicious, after a week or more of it, it makes Chinese or Korean food taste like a revelation.
I got off the airport bus somewhere in downtown Seoul. I was carrying my bags. Opposite me was a Dunkin Donuts. I was supposed to wait here to meet my friend . It was a pretty cold night, and I was a tad overwhelmed by the big city. I went into the Dunkin Donuts, and I was about to order a coffee and doughnut when a thought crossed my mind: 'Do I really want my first food transaction in Seoul to be an authentic American coffee and doughnut, just like I get several times a week in Japan?'
I waited outside in the cold.
My friend showed up. I hadn't seen her in about 1 1/2 years, but she was more concerned about feeding me. She took me to a Korean BBQ.
It was meat and vegetables cooked on a hot plate. Just like Japan... Well, not quite. I was warned that I would smell like Korean BBQ for a long time after. The difference was in the copious amounts of kim-chi and garlic, and the 5 bowls of chilli dips ranging from "spicy", to "ring-burner". Brilliant. I was also impressed at the table-scissors. Yes, scissors at the table! It just makes too much sense.
Korea is noted, at least in Japan, for having steel chopsticks. They are longer, and more difficult to use. What I found more interesting than that, was the use of spoons. There is a very old joke about Asia: "why don't you use spoons?". Even Jerry Seinfeld had a go. Well, it turns out Korea has been using spoons for well over 1000 years. I just thought that interesting. That little bit of western "we are too civilised to eat with sticks" or "why couldn't you invent the spoon?" supremacy is kindof lost. I guess we will have to stick to the "why can't you pronnounce the letter R?".
On my 3rd day, my friend and her mother took me out to the countryside, right in the middle of South Korea. They kept telling me that food just tastes better in the countryside. I politely agreed with them in advance, as you must. But anyway, we came to an old traditional village, just after the peak tourist season. It was very quiet, and most of the restaurants/dining halls were closed. One happened to be open, but I can guarantee that if it were in a country with any kind of health regulations, it wouldn't have been. This place can only be described as an embarrassment. There were mis-matched plastic table cloths, stained and peeling wallpaper, and hundreds of flies. We had our own small room with a small square doorway, without a door. There were so many flies, that after a few minutes we gave up pretending to swat them away.
Luckily, I'm never sqeamish about sanitation. I adhere by the 10 second rule (the amount of time that may elapse after dropping . Most people use the 3 second-rule, whereas Japanese will give you new chopsticks if you drop them on the floor.) It turns out that the flies in Korea are food critics. I don't blame them for wanting to eat our meal (or lay eggs in them, which is what flies do, right?).
We ordered the meal of death. It was the meal Koreans leave on the graves of dead people. It sounds strange, and you'd think, since no-one will be eating it, it probably wouldn't taste that nice. Well, in Korea, they give offerings to the dead, but they have to be quick, otherwise they will eat it for themselves. Again, it just makes too much sense. The main difference with the meal of death, is the absence of the colour red. In Korean cooking, you could imagine this is quite a big deal. The reasoning behind this is that ghosts are afraid of the colour red. Yes, that is exactly what I was thinking: Korean ghosts are probably the wussiest in the world. But probably the most well-fed.
Street food is such a great idea. It combines streets with food. It makes so much sense. I tried a lot of different things, although I stayed clear of the giant woks filled with either small conical shellfish, or bugs. I literally stayed clear of them; the smell is truly awful. I can't possibly descibe the nastyness of it. The best I can come up with is: a combination of lower intestine contents and someone else's boogers. Some of the better items were "things on sticks", things wrapped in dumplings, and soupy things. It's so cheap, and because it's on the street, you don't have to commit yourself to a whole meal.
There are also a lot of sweet street stalls. It all looked so good. Most of it was some form of caramelisation, often with some kind of cereals. I decided though, that it was rather dissappointing. I grew up on New Zealand cereals, which were much sweeter than these. 
My friend pointed out several stalls with huge lines behind them. They were selling "hotto", which she assured me was really good. I had a whole week left, so we didn't think it worthwhile to line up.
My friend took me to a nice restaurant. Well, the word "restaurant" doesn't really apply in Korea. Every place I went to looked more like a school dining room. There is no concept of atmosphere, or food presentation. I really like this aspect of Korean food. To me, the atmosphere is in the sky, and I eat with my mouth- not my eyes. This "diner" served meat which must have been marinated long before the pig was slaughtered. It was so tender and juicy. Of course, there were hundreds of clay thimbles on the table with different species of kim-chee.
Before leaving to Korea, I took down a list of Korean foods that I was reccommended to try. Brilliant. I showed this to my friend's mother, and she got excited. First on my list was "Sangue-tan". 
I was a huge fan of this. It was a chicken that contained a chicken. And it was for one person. Inside the chicken was rice. The decor of this particular restaurant faithfully recreated a 3rd world makeshift hospital waiting room.
Naengmyeon. About 4 years ago, before I knew that Korea was a real country, my parents wanted to take me to a Japanese restaurant in Christchurch. I ended up ordering kim-chee cold noodles. (Most Japanese retsuarants in Christchurch are owned by Koreans). This meal was so good that it stuck in my memory. Naturally, it was on my list. My friend's mother ordered for me. I was excited. The waitress came over and put a big bowl of noodles infront of me. Before I could do anything, she started chopping the crap out of it with scissors. It was incredible. And this meal would have scared away any ghosts. My friend's mother kept asking me if I was okay. Koreans are apparently always worried that their food is too spicy for foreigners. Sure, for Japanese foreigners this may be true, but I can hold my own. In my university days, I used to drink through a 750ml bottle of Thai sweet chilli in about 2 weeks.
The next day when I was at the Korean folk village, I decided to eat there. I should have known it would be dissappointing when I saw the menu was also in Japanese and English. This was foreign Korean food, right in Korea. That would be like selling cheese-less pasta in Italy. I was so glad that I knew some people there who could show me the real taste of Korea.
On my very last night, I was walking around the markets. I had said goodbye to my friend in the morning, and was already coming down from the holiday. That's when I noticed a stall selling "hotto", and there was no line. I felt almost guilty eating one alone. But it was my last chance. It was basically just a fried ball of dough, filled with brown sugar. It was cheap, it wasn't glamourous, it was warm and filling, and sweet inside. It was delicious. That was my lingering taste of Korea.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Travel
Korea, Part I: Travel.
Getting there
Like most foreign countries, Korea requires travel to get there. Although, not so much from Toyama. Since I learned that I would be living in Toyama, I was not going to forgive myself if i never went to Korea, beacuse its so close. There are boats that will take you to Pusan (and, if you listen to Japanese people, they also take stolen bikes and cars), and the local airport even has flights to Korea, thereby earning the name "International Airport". This is all misleading, however, as the flights only go on wedensdays, and the boat is very slow (and dangerous, if you listen to). It was cheaper and simpler to catch a night bus to Tokyo, sleeping at an internet cafe for 3 hours, and taking the slow trains to Narita Airport. I was literally going in the opposite direction of Korea.
Planes
I flew Asiana Airlines, which apparently is a South Korean company. I'm never fussy about which airlines I take, as long as the majority of stewardesses are not white. I don't know, I have had so many bad experiences with white stewardesses. Once, just days after I turned 18, I asked the Air New Zealand stewardess for a beer. It was for the sheer novelty of it. But two minutes later, she came back and took the beer back! It was something to do with the program I was travelling with, but wow, what a bitch. Another time, I asked for a coffee. I swear, these were the exact words she said:
"go get it yourself".
So I did. I went to the back of the plane, where 3 stewardesses were sitting around chatting. I didn't know where the coffee was kept, and wasn't keen to rummage through the compartments, especially not after 9/11. So I asked the male stewardess where the coffee was. I never did end up getting that coffee. It seems like white stewardesses are trained to be bitches (even the male ones), and usually they are not pretty enough to be forgiven for that (even the male ones).
On this flight, there were no complaints, and unlike Air New Zealand which will serve you a cup of mineral water on the 3 hour flight to Australia, on this 2 hour flight to Korea, the lunch was actually good. I especially liked it how they didn't give an option of meat, fish or vegetarian. I mean, I usually end up getting the worst looking meal.
I had a window seat, and we flew right by Mt. Fuji at sunset. It started off as just a triangle silhouette rising above the fluffy clouds. It was a friendly goodbye from a country I needed a break from.
Customs
"Do you have a Korean Visa?", the customs officer at Incheon (Seoul) Airport asked me.
"...uuuh... no", I replied, suddenly hit with the memories of Shanghai earlier this year. Dammit, how could I have overlooked the visa situation in Korea? Sure the internet travel agencies are cheaper, but they don't give a shit about service.
"Okay", the customs officer said, giving my passport one last pretend glance, "enjoy your stay".
Buses and cars.
I have a natural fear of buses. Especially ones driven by people who speak in other languages. You just have no idea whether he is taking you to the next stop, or driving in the complete opposite direction to the edge of the forest. Most of my bus driver characterisation also comes from New Zealand, where they are never on time, will hardly wait for you to get on or off before driving off, and still have the nerve to strike for a payraise that would make it the equivalent to that of a teacher. They are dirvers! For poor people! And they only drive in circles or straight lines! And you want a payraise so you can be more of an asshole?
The airport bus from Seoul was fine. Apparently there are 10,000 buses running in Seoul at any time. A bit later in the week, I was on one of these buses. This was terrifying. It was similar to the taxi drivers in Shanghai. I complain a lot about drivers in Japan, and rightfully so. In Japan, Japanese drivers don't know what they are doing. In Korea, Korean drivers don't know what everyone else is doing. Drivers use their horns more than their brakes. They use their horns more than they use their indicators. They use their horns more than they use their mirrors. They use their horns more than they use any apparent systemof road rules. The only road rule that everyone appeared to follow was driving on the right-hand side.
This surprised me a little bit, since Japan is so close, and basically built all of Korea's infastructure during the occupation (after destroying most of it, but let us not be pedantic about it). But then, choosing which side of the road a country drives their cars on has always been more political than logical.) I was a little bit worried about this, as I usually fare particularly badly in countries that drive on the right. I couldn't count the amount of times my brother pulled me out of traffic's way when I was in holland.
Later on in the week, I was on a bus during rush hour. There was one seat right at the back, but I decided I would stand and leave the seat for an old person. The bus pulled out into traffic. I swear, a rocket take-off would be more comfortable. I was manhandled, flung around like Christina Aguilera's panties, as the driver angrily made his way to my destination. A nice lady gave me a "don't be stupid and sit your ass down" toned call, and I was grateful. The driver was either accellerating as fast as he could, or braking as hard as he could. A woman got on the bus. She was holding a baby that was surely still single-digit weeks old. There were no seats left, so she stood. The driver didn't care, and kept driving as he was. It was shocking, but the thing is, she didn't seem to care either. Never have I been so impressed to see someone stand up.
Trains
The subway system in Seoul is brilliant. 1/4 of Korea's population lives in Seoul (10million), and double that are within the greater Seoul area. The Subway system caters for this. In Japan, there are several different lines run by different companies in the same city. This means to get to some places, you will need to leave one station, walk to the next one and pay a different fare. Especially if you are taking JR, the official Japanese Train line, you will be paying too much. Take a look at the railway map of Tokyo.
Getting there
Like most foreign countries, Korea requires travel to get there. Although, not so much from Toyama. Since I learned that I would be living in Toyama, I was not going to forgive myself if i never went to Korea, beacuse its so close. There are boats that will take you to Pusan (and, if you listen to Japanese people, they also take stolen bikes and cars), and the local airport even has flights to Korea, thereby earning the name "International Airport". This is all misleading, however, as the flights only go on wedensdays, and the boat is very slow (and dangerous, if you listen to). It was cheaper and simpler to catch a night bus to Tokyo, sleeping at an internet cafe for 3 hours, and taking the slow trains to Narita Airport. I was literally going in the opposite direction of Korea.
Planes
I flew Asiana Airlines, which apparently is a South Korean company. I'm never fussy about which airlines I take, as long as the majority of stewardesses are not white. I don't know, I have had so many bad experiences with white stewardesses. Once, just days after I turned 18, I asked the Air New Zealand stewardess for a beer. It was for the sheer novelty of it. But two minutes later, she came back and took the beer back! It was something to do with the program I was travelling with, but wow, what a bitch. Another time, I asked for a coffee. I swear, these were the exact words she said:
"go get it yourself".
So I did. I went to the back of the plane, where 3 stewardesses were sitting around chatting. I didn't know where the coffee was kept, and wasn't keen to rummage through the compartments, especially not after 9/11. So I asked the male stewardess where the coffee was. I never did end up getting that coffee. It seems like white stewardesses are trained to be bitches (even the male ones), and usually they are not pretty enough to be forgiven for that (even the male ones).
On this flight, there were no complaints, and unlike Air New Zealand which will serve you a cup of mineral water on the 3 hour flight to Australia, on this 2 hour flight to Korea, the lunch was actually good. I especially liked it how they didn't give an option of meat, fish or vegetarian. I mean, I usually end up getting the worst looking meal.
I had a window seat, and we flew right by Mt. Fuji at sunset. It started off as just a triangle silhouette rising above the fluffy clouds. It was a friendly goodbye from a country I needed a break from.
Customs
"Do you have a Korean Visa?", the customs officer at Incheon (Seoul) Airport asked me.
"...uuuh... no", I replied, suddenly hit with the memories of Shanghai earlier this year. Dammit, how could I have overlooked the visa situation in Korea? Sure the internet travel agencies are cheaper, but they don't give a shit about service.
"Okay", the customs officer said, giving my passport one last pretend glance, "enjoy your stay".
Buses and cars.
I have a natural fear of buses. Especially ones driven by people who speak in other languages. You just have no idea whether he is taking you to the next stop, or driving in the complete opposite direction to the edge of the forest. Most of my bus driver characterisation also comes from New Zealand, where they are never on time, will hardly wait for you to get on or off before driving off, and still have the nerve to strike for a payraise that would make it the equivalent to that of a teacher. They are dirvers! For poor people! And they only drive in circles or straight lines! And you want a payraise so you can be more of an asshole?
The airport bus from Seoul was fine. Apparently there are 10,000 buses running in Seoul at any time. A bit later in the week, I was on one of these buses. This was terrifying. It was similar to the taxi drivers in Shanghai. I complain a lot about drivers in Japan, and rightfully so. In Japan, Japanese drivers don't know what they are doing. In Korea, Korean drivers don't know what everyone else is doing. Drivers use their horns more than their brakes. They use their horns more than they use their indicators. They use their horns more than they use their mirrors. They use their horns more than they use any apparent systemof road rules. The only road rule that everyone appeared to follow was driving on the right-hand side.
This surprised me a little bit, since Japan is so close, and basically built all of Korea's infastructure during the occupation (after destroying most of it, but let us not be pedantic about it). But then, choosing which side of the road a country drives their cars on has always been more political than logical.) I was a little bit worried about this, as I usually fare particularly badly in countries that drive on the right. I couldn't count the amount of times my brother pulled me out of traffic's way when I was in holland.
Later on in the week, I was on a bus during rush hour. There was one seat right at the back, but I decided I would stand and leave the seat for an old person. The bus pulled out into traffic. I swear, a rocket take-off would be more comfortable. I was manhandled, flung around like Christina Aguilera's panties, as the driver angrily made his way to my destination. A nice lady gave me a "don't be stupid and sit your ass down" toned call, and I was grateful. The driver was either accellerating as fast as he could, or braking as hard as he could. A woman got on the bus. She was holding a baby that was surely still single-digit weeks old. There were no seats left, so she stood. The driver didn't care, and kept driving as he was. It was shocking, but the thing is, she didn't seem to care either. Never have I been so impressed to see someone stand up.
Trains
The subway system in Seoul is brilliant. 1/4 of Korea's population lives in Seoul (10million), and double that are within the greater Seoul area. The Subway system caters for this. In Japan, there are several different lines run by different companies in the same city. This means to get to some places, you will need to leave one station, walk to the next one and pay a different fare. Especially if you are taking JR, the official Japanese Train line, you will be paying too much. Take a look at the railway map of Tokyo.
It looks like a smoker's intestine. Compare it to Seoul. 
It is all run by the same company, paying with the same cheap rates and every changeover can be made underground. It's brilliant. Where did Japan get the reputation for being organised and efficient? And the subway in Seoul is popular. During rush-hour, I would make an honest bet that Seoul is busier than Tokyo. At those moments, I appreciate being a head taller than most people. At least I could breathe. Sortof.
The subways are also entertaining, thanks to poor people. At less busy times, every now and then somebody will come on. They are like door-to-door salesmen, and they sell the most ridiculous things in an informercial style format. They will go to the middle of the train car, get everyone's attention and begin. One guy wearing a visor and his sleeves rolled up, started telling everyone of the benefits of these particular stockings. He had a mannequin leg from the knee down, which was wearing one of these stockings, and waving it infront of everyone. "Look!", he was surely saying. "They never slip!". Several times, a salesperson rolled a large stereo into the centre of the train car and played a song very loudly. The thing is, the CDs were entitled "golden oldies". Those awful songs that are actively avoided in English speaking countries. I don't understand how these songs are liked in asian countries. Was there a gross excess of these songs, and so they decided to send them to asia?
One lady tried selling a hand-held sewing machine. The most fascinating one had to be a guy selling gum. He simply walked down the train car, and quietly placed a packet of gum on the knees of people sitting down. Then he walked back down and collected them back up, presumably hoping someone had opened it, constituting a sale. I was glad I was sitting. The people sitting down seemed so unaffected. It must happen so often. The thing is, I only ever saw one person make a sale (the guy with the stockings). I told my friend there, and she said "they were old people, right?". Yes. Buying from these salespeople is frowned apon, so the only people to not care enough are old people. Bless their failing hearts, because it makes the trains so much more entertaining.
Boats
My friend took me on a night boat trip, along the Han river, the reason why Seoul is the thriving city it is. The sheer amount of bridges is incredible. It really reminded me of Rotterdam. Of home. A city flattened in the war, rising from the dust in prosperity with ugly buldings that will only be considered beautiful in 50 years.
Walking
In Korea, walking has been a popular form of transportation for hundreds of years. The experience was greatly enhanced with the installment of the subways. I would get off at a stop, walk around until I get lost, and when I wanted to find myself again, the next subway wont take long to find. It was a great system. My friend's mother took me out for a day in Seoul. She is one of those people that list their hobby as "walking". I mean, I consider myself pretty fit, and I have long strides. I saw a video of myself last month walking alongside my mother. The first thing I thought was, is this playing in slow motion? But no, it was just me. My mother was walking normally. I take big steps, but I take them slowly. So, if I took my steps at a normal speed, I would easily keep up with a "walker", right?Never think you can keep up with "walkers". Despite my stride advantage, she dominated me. At the end of the day, there were still a few things on our plan that we didn't have time for. I have no doubt she could have kept to the plan, but she didn't allow for easy going dead-weight. It seems I still have much to learn about walking.
It is all run by the same company, paying with the same cheap rates and every changeover can be made underground. It's brilliant. Where did Japan get the reputation for being organised and efficient? And the subway in Seoul is popular. During rush-hour, I would make an honest bet that Seoul is busier than Tokyo. At those moments, I appreciate being a head taller than most people. At least I could breathe. Sortof.
The subways are also entertaining, thanks to poor people. At less busy times, every now and then somebody will come on. They are like door-to-door salesmen, and they sell the most ridiculous things in an informercial style format. They will go to the middle of the train car, get everyone's attention and begin. One guy wearing a visor and his sleeves rolled up, started telling everyone of the benefits of these particular stockings. He had a mannequin leg from the knee down, which was wearing one of these stockings, and waving it infront of everyone. "Look!", he was surely saying. "They never slip!". Several times, a salesperson rolled a large stereo into the centre of the train car and played a song very loudly. The thing is, the CDs were entitled "golden oldies". Those awful songs that are actively avoided in English speaking countries. I don't understand how these songs are liked in asian countries. Was there a gross excess of these songs, and so they decided to send them to asia?
One lady tried selling a hand-held sewing machine. The most fascinating one had to be a guy selling gum. He simply walked down the train car, and quietly placed a packet of gum on the knees of people sitting down. Then he walked back down and collected them back up, presumably hoping someone had opened it, constituting a sale. I was glad I was sitting. The people sitting down seemed so unaffected. It must happen so often. The thing is, I only ever saw one person make a sale (the guy with the stockings). I told my friend there, and she said "they were old people, right?". Yes. Buying from these salespeople is frowned apon, so the only people to not care enough are old people. Bless their failing hearts, because it makes the trains so much more entertaining.
Boats
My friend took me on a night boat trip, along the Han river, the reason why Seoul is the thriving city it is. The sheer amount of bridges is incredible. It really reminded me of Rotterdam. Of home. A city flattened in the war, rising from the dust in prosperity with ugly buldings that will only be considered beautiful in 50 years.
Walking
In Korea, walking has been a popular form of transportation for hundreds of years. The experience was greatly enhanced with the installment of the subways. I would get off at a stop, walk around until I get lost, and when I wanted to find myself again, the next subway wont take long to find. It was a great system. My friend's mother took me out for a day in Seoul. She is one of those people that list their hobby as "walking". I mean, I consider myself pretty fit, and I have long strides. I saw a video of myself last month walking alongside my mother. The first thing I thought was, is this playing in slow motion? But no, it was just me. My mother was walking normally. I take big steps, but I take them slowly. So, if I took my steps at a normal speed, I would easily keep up with a "walker", right?Never think you can keep up with "walkers". Despite my stride advantage, she dominated me. At the end of the day, there were still a few things on our plan that we didn't have time for. I have no doubt she could have kept to the plan, but she didn't allow for easy going dead-weight. It seems I still have much to learn about walking.
I've always said that I love travelling, as long as it's away from here. I wouldn't go as far as saying that getting there is half the fun, but its such a shame when people say they hate travelling. It doesn't matter how you go, just keeping your eyes open makes the journey so much more fun.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Part One: Planning
Part I
I'm often asked why I like Japan. I don't really have an answer. A lot of foreigners here love anime, or karate, or one of the other "refined arts of Japan", or they are business oriented people and see Japan as a great opportunity. I don't have any of these answers. I normally just answer "なんとなく" （because）. It usually gets a polite giggle, and everyone forgets about it.
The thing is, as much as love Japan, I can hate it so much sometimes. The countryside, the boring job, and the general indifference of Japanese people which often comes off as arrogant, daft, or just plain stupid. There is a limit for most foreign people of how much Japan they can take at a time, and if there isn't they are probably insane. My limit seems to be set at about 6 months. In September i began going crazy at the realisation there was a whole school year before my contract ends. I needed to get out again.
This is Ruben out Japanland.
I had planned this to Korea trip for 2 1/2 months, and the very fact I was looking forward to it probably saved the lives of several innocent bystanders, which, as a teacher -often around small children- was very good thing. I never ended up writing about my previous trip to Shanghai earlier this year at the end of January. At that time, I was going to rendezvous with my father who was going to stop-over from a trip to Germany in Shanghai for 3 nights. He speaks some Chinese, so I didn't really need to plan much. He even paid for my hotel room and made some tentative plans. Besides, I hadn't seen him in 6 months, and wouldn't for at least 12 more, so I didn't even want to plan much.
So I trained to Kansai airport and took the short flight across the Japan sea (I always ask Japanese people, but why isn't it called the "China sea"? I mean really, as they say, it takes 2 to tango. Or do Chinese call it the China Sea? Or is this just residual imperial Japanese policy? It's an interesting question, no?). Anyways, I loved the feeling of getting out of Japan. Sure, it was just as cold there as when I left. It's just, Japan isn't a foreign country to me anymore. Not that I'm anywhere near fluent in Japanese, but I get by just fine, and things don't really surprises me much anymore.
In Shanghai, I remember the bus ride from the airport to the hotel so clearly. The cars and the buildings- everything- was covered with a thick layer of corporate communism, in the form of dust from eternal construcion and deconstruction. I couldn't help but notice the sickening irony of the new construction of high-rise buildings and one of the worlds fastest railways, towering above the slums. Seeing things like this makes you realise how easily Japanese people have become so complacent .
So I got off at Shanghai station, and I had only a tiny map torn from a travel brochure to find my hotel. There were hundreds of people sitting outside the station with all their worldly possessions bundled up. I presumed they were waiting to leave. It was so hard trying to even find a taxi, let alone one who would even bother with a completely ignorant foreigner. Eventually I did. I almost regretted it. Before I even got my seatbelt on, we were already in 15 near-death-causing accidents. He drove 2 blocks, and told me to get out cross the road. This was even scarier. I usually fare badly in countries that drive on the right side of the road, but this was something else. Several cars honked at me, but didn't bother slowing down. Somehow,I arrived at the hotel, elated to be alive and kind of nervous to see my father. I checked in, and that's when the hotel staff handed me a notice.
It read: "Ruben, my visa was voided, and I cannot come to China. From your father".
Well, he didn't write "your father", and i think he wrote it in Dutch. What am I, a scribe? I actually thought at first this was a small joke of my father, and he would jump me as soon as I opened the door. I was ready for it. But he wasn't there. I checked the toilets, and behind the shower curtain. He really wasn't there. He really was stuck at the airport in Munich (due to some customs idiot writing a small mark on my fathers visa for China, in pencil, therby voiding it... Honestly, he deserves sympathy, not me.)
Instantly, my holiday had changed completely. Now, I was on my own for 5 days in a huge city where I didn't know any of the attractions or things to see. I couldn't speak any of the language, I didn't know what kind of places were unsafe, or how to get around the city. I didn't even know how much the money I had was worth.
I still made a good time out of it, leaving behind millions of footsteps all over the city. I walked through the poorest and most miserable places I've ever seen (including on TV), saw the main temples, haggled at the markets, went up the Oriental Pearl Tower (which my verigoed father would never have done) and sat in a 500 year+ old Chinese garden and wrote. It was a shame my father couldn't be there, but I did make the most of it.
I also discovered just how long 5 days is, when you are on your own. I went to the park outside the city. This place was so vast it was sickening. It had a huge fake lake and beach, just so that couples could go on a perfect date and soon after have their one child. I felt so empty. The only conversations I had in 5 whole days was when I accidentally walked past the People's park in the city centre right at the time there was an English speaking gathering. I was the only authentic foreigner there, and I was literally swarmed with people aged from 6 to over 90 all trying to speak English to me at the same time.
The other time I had a slighlty longer conversation was when I was walking down the street and I noticed a guy running alongside me (I walk briskly, especially compared to the average asian leg-length). He was smiling at me. I looked the other way. There was another guy doing the same. The first guy shouted at me "shoe shine!". I dismissivley shook my head at him and kept walking ahead. I would never have anyone shine my shoes, I would feel like an asshole. Besides, I was wearing Chuck Taylor All-stars, which consist mainly of fabric. Anyways, I was walking the streets in the dirtiest city I have ever seen. Among the horrors I saw on the streets, I walked over human faecal matter, and a dead rat. I was planning to throw out these shoes at Japanese customs.
The repeated himself, and I didnt reward his tantrum. But this guy was good, he ran ahead, knelt down and placed a blob of white shoeshine on the plastic tip of my converse shoe.
"Ah fuck, just wipe it off", I said, irritated. Instead, he started rubbing furiously, and the other guy started on my other shoe. I tried walking away, but I couldn't. My fatal mistake was wearing flares, and they were holding me firmly in place. I was stuck for about 5 minutes, as they kept polishing and reminding me that I'm a wealthy american. "Give me 10 dollar" he shouted. (why is it that people in China seem to only shout? I have no idea where the name "chinese whispers" came from, because I'm sure it has never happened before). I was getting rather annoyed, and I was not going to give them anything, and they weren't going to let me leave. There was a small crowd gathered by now to witness the spectacle. Eventually a policeman came over and broke it up, although unwillingly, as he was among the small crowd. So I escaped, and bought myself the most expensive coffee in my life at a starbucks.
So, that was the most fulfilling conversation I'd had in 5 days. I was in this huge park on my last day, and I decided I would go to to a museum, and then go to sleep early at the hotel.When I got to the museum, 3 girls started up conversation with me. They were international studies students at a university in Inner Mongolia, and were on winter holidays. That's awesome, I'd never met real Inner Mongolians before. They were so happy to actually speak with a real foreigner, as they don't really exist in Inner Mongolia. (man I love saying "Inner Mongolia"). After a while they mentioned they were going to a tea ceremony festival. At the hotel I saw this on TV, and this guy was juggling tea-pots with spouts one metre long and pouring them into tiny cups at the other side of the room. I hadn't really seen any Chinese cultural things yet, and never in my life was I so happy to have so much conversation. And, let us be honest, they were girls, which, even though they weren't hot, is still appreciated.
So we went down some alleys, and into a small teahouse. It was different to what I expected. There was a girl serving tea and explaining it, and then I was explained in in Inner Mongolian-style English. We did a course of 7 teas, with an amazing range of flavours. Bitter tea that literally danced when water was added, naturally-sweet tea, a flowering magnolia tea... It was incredible. As was the bill. Holy crap. It cost me 30 000 yen (at the time, just under $300 US), which I only just had on me. I was shocked, but it made sense to me: corporate communism... It was my last day, so I didn't need my Chinese money anymore. But, holy crap!
It was only once I got back to Japan, and deconstructed the story to my friends and their enjoyment, that I realised I was scammed. Bigtime. These girls were good, and obviously had a deal with the teahouse. Even so, I made them work for that money, and I needed some kind of human interaction to stop me from going insane. It was the best 30 000yen I never intended to spend. I only feel cheated when I think that they were probably not even from Inner Mongolia.
This time though, on my holiday to Korea, I was not going to repeat my mistakes of Shanghai. I used my boredom time at school to research about Korea.
Interesting facts. Eating dog is prevalent in Korea. It was made a crime in 1998 due to international pressure coinciding with events such as the World Cup Soccer, but this is not enforced, and dog can be found at less mainstream restaurants.
Language. Just the usual greetings. And i purchased a game for my Nintendo DS which you can use to enter something in Japanese and it pronnounces it in Korean. This turned out to be completely useless.
Geography. Seoul is at the north of South Korea.
History. Japan has beaten and raped Korea all throughout history. This is no surprise, but the extent of it was quite incredible.
More importantly, I have a friend living in Korea, and I was able to stay at her mothers apartment. Things looked set. On the last school day before I left, a teacher at my school asked me:
"you are going somewhere next week?"
Yes, just like I asked you over 2 months ago, and keep mentioning to you.
"So", she began accusingly, "you wont come to class next week?"
She said this, INFRONT OF THE CLASS! It was this kind of atmosphere I needed to escape, and I had taken a whole week off school. It was a mid-term holiday. I was so excited. The next day I was off to Korea.
Now, Japanese people have a very strong idea that their culture is unique. I have had hundreds of conversations with people here telling them that other countries also, in fact, have 4 seasons. My Japanese teacher, who is a very smart and worldly woman even tried convincing me that tofu was a Japanese invention. They also have a unnatural distrust or fear of Korea, as if Korea has been invading Japan for the last 500 years. In fact, most Japanese culture came from Korea or China (via Korea), and yet, possibly the biggest insult you could give a Japanese person is saying they look Korean.
In a delightful twist of irony, the day I was leaving Japan to go to Korea was Japan Culture day. It seemed perfect. I needed some time out of Japanland.
I'm often asked why I like Japan. I don't really have an answer. A lot of foreigners here love anime, or karate, or one of the other "refined arts of Japan", or they are business oriented people and see Japan as a great opportunity. I don't have any of these answers. I normally just answer "なんとなく" （because）. It usually gets a polite giggle, and everyone forgets about it.
The thing is, as much as love Japan, I can hate it so much sometimes. The countryside, the boring job, and the general indifference of Japanese people which often comes off as arrogant, daft, or just plain stupid. There is a limit for most foreign people of how much Japan they can take at a time, and if there isn't they are probably insane. My limit seems to be set at about 6 months. In September i began going crazy at the realisation there was a whole school year before my contract ends. I needed to get out again.
This is Ruben out Japanland.
I had planned this to Korea trip for 2 1/2 months, and the very fact I was looking forward to it probably saved the lives of several innocent bystanders, which, as a teacher -often around small children- was very good thing. I never ended up writing about my previous trip to Shanghai earlier this year at the end of January. At that time, I was going to rendezvous with my father who was going to stop-over from a trip to Germany in Shanghai for 3 nights. He speaks some Chinese, so I didn't really need to plan much. He even paid for my hotel room and made some tentative plans. Besides, I hadn't seen him in 6 months, and wouldn't for at least 12 more, so I didn't even want to plan much.
So I trained to Kansai airport and took the short flight across the Japan sea (I always ask Japanese people, but why isn't it called the "China sea"? I mean really, as they say, it takes 2 to tango. Or do Chinese call it the China Sea? Or is this just residual imperial Japanese policy? It's an interesting question, no?). Anyways, I loved the feeling of getting out of Japan. Sure, it was just as cold there as when I left. It's just, Japan isn't a foreign country to me anymore. Not that I'm anywhere near fluent in Japanese, but I get by just fine, and things don't really surprises me much anymore.
In Shanghai, I remember the bus ride from the airport to the hotel so clearly. The cars and the buildings- everything- was covered with a thick layer of corporate communism, in the form of dust from eternal construcion and deconstruction. I couldn't help but notice the sickening irony of the new construction of high-rise buildings and one of the worlds fastest railways, towering above the slums. Seeing things like this makes you realise how easily Japanese people have become so complacent .
So I got off at Shanghai station, and I had only a tiny map torn from a travel brochure to find my hotel. There were hundreds of people sitting outside the station with all their worldly possessions bundled up. I presumed they were waiting to leave. It was so hard trying to even find a taxi, let alone one who would even bother with a completely ignorant foreigner. Eventually I did. I almost regretted it. Before I even got my seatbelt on, we were already in 15 near-death-causing accidents. He drove 2 blocks, and told me to get out cross the road. This was even scarier. I usually fare badly in countries that drive on the right side of the road, but this was something else. Several cars honked at me, but didn't bother slowing down. Somehow,I arrived at the hotel, elated to be alive and kind of nervous to see my father. I checked in, and that's when the hotel staff handed me a notice.
It read: "Ruben, my visa was voided, and I cannot come to China. From your father".
Well, he didn't write "your father", and i think he wrote it in Dutch. What am I, a scribe? I actually thought at first this was a small joke of my father, and he would jump me as soon as I opened the door. I was ready for it. But he wasn't there. I checked the toilets, and behind the shower curtain. He really wasn't there. He really was stuck at the airport in Munich (due to some customs idiot writing a small mark on my fathers visa for China, in pencil, therby voiding it... Honestly, he deserves sympathy, not me.)
Instantly, my holiday had changed completely. Now, I was on my own for 5 days in a huge city where I didn't know any of the attractions or things to see. I couldn't speak any of the language, I didn't know what kind of places were unsafe, or how to get around the city. I didn't even know how much the money I had was worth.
I still made a good time out of it, leaving behind millions of footsteps all over the city. I walked through the poorest and most miserable places I've ever seen (including on TV), saw the main temples, haggled at the markets, went up the Oriental Pearl Tower (which my verigoed father would never have done) and sat in a 500 year+ old Chinese garden and wrote. It was a shame my father couldn't be there, but I did make the most of it.
I also discovered just how long 5 days is, when you are on your own. I went to the park outside the city. This place was so vast it was sickening. It had a huge fake lake and beach, just so that couples could go on a perfect date and soon after have their one child. I felt so empty. The only conversations I had in 5 whole days was when I accidentally walked past the People's park in the city centre right at the time there was an English speaking gathering. I was the only authentic foreigner there, and I was literally swarmed with people aged from 6 to over 90 all trying to speak English to me at the same time.
The other time I had a slighlty longer conversation was when I was walking down the street and I noticed a guy running alongside me (I walk briskly, especially compared to the average asian leg-length). He was smiling at me. I looked the other way. There was another guy doing the same. The first guy shouted at me "shoe shine!". I dismissivley shook my head at him and kept walking ahead. I would never have anyone shine my shoes, I would feel like an asshole. Besides, I was wearing Chuck Taylor All-stars, which consist mainly of fabric. Anyways, I was walking the streets in the dirtiest city I have ever seen. Among the horrors I saw on the streets, I walked over human faecal matter, and a dead rat. I was planning to throw out these shoes at Japanese customs.
The repeated himself, and I didnt reward his tantrum. But this guy was good, he ran ahead, knelt down and placed a blob of white shoeshine on the plastic tip of my converse shoe.
"Ah fuck, just wipe it off", I said, irritated. Instead, he started rubbing furiously, and the other guy started on my other shoe. I tried walking away, but I couldn't. My fatal mistake was wearing flares, and they were holding me firmly in place. I was stuck for about 5 minutes, as they kept polishing and reminding me that I'm a wealthy american. "Give me 10 dollar" he shouted. (why is it that people in China seem to only shout? I have no idea where the name "chinese whispers" came from, because I'm sure it has never happened before). I was getting rather annoyed, and I was not going to give them anything, and they weren't going to let me leave. There was a small crowd gathered by now to witness the spectacle. Eventually a policeman came over and broke it up, although unwillingly, as he was among the small crowd. So I escaped, and bought myself the most expensive coffee in my life at a starbucks.
So, that was the most fulfilling conversation I'd had in 5 days. I was in this huge park on my last day, and I decided I would go to to a museum, and then go to sleep early at the hotel.When I got to the museum, 3 girls started up conversation with me. They were international studies students at a university in Inner Mongolia, and were on winter holidays. That's awesome, I'd never met real Inner Mongolians before. They were so happy to actually speak with a real foreigner, as they don't really exist in Inner Mongolia. (man I love saying "Inner Mongolia"). After a while they mentioned they were going to a tea ceremony festival. At the hotel I saw this on TV, and this guy was juggling tea-pots with spouts one metre long and pouring them into tiny cups at the other side of the room. I hadn't really seen any Chinese cultural things yet, and never in my life was I so happy to have so much conversation. And, let us be honest, they were girls, which, even though they weren't hot, is still appreciated.
So we went down some alleys, and into a small teahouse. It was different to what I expected. There was a girl serving tea and explaining it, and then I was explained in in Inner Mongolian-style English. We did a course of 7 teas, with an amazing range of flavours. Bitter tea that literally danced when water was added, naturally-sweet tea, a flowering magnolia tea... It was incredible. As was the bill. Holy crap. It cost me 30 000 yen (at the time, just under $300 US), which I only just had on me. I was shocked, but it made sense to me: corporate communism... It was my last day, so I didn't need my Chinese money anymore. But, holy crap!
It was only once I got back to Japan, and deconstructed the story to my friends and their enjoyment, that I realised I was scammed. Bigtime. These girls were good, and obviously had a deal with the teahouse. Even so, I made them work for that money, and I needed some kind of human interaction to stop me from going insane. It was the best 30 000yen I never intended to spend. I only feel cheated when I think that they were probably not even from Inner Mongolia.
This time though, on my holiday to Korea, I was not going to repeat my mistakes of Shanghai. I used my boredom time at school to research about Korea.
Interesting facts. Eating dog is prevalent in Korea. It was made a crime in 1998 due to international pressure coinciding with events such as the World Cup Soccer, but this is not enforced, and dog can be found at less mainstream restaurants.
Language. Just the usual greetings. And i purchased a game for my Nintendo DS which you can use to enter something in Japanese and it pronnounces it in Korean. This turned out to be completely useless.
Geography. Seoul is at the north of South Korea.
History. Japan has beaten and raped Korea all throughout history. This is no surprise, but the extent of it was quite incredible.
More importantly, I have a friend living in Korea, and I was able to stay at her mothers apartment. Things looked set. On the last school day before I left, a teacher at my school asked me:
"you are going somewhere next week?"
Yes, just like I asked you over 2 months ago, and keep mentioning to you.
"So", she began accusingly, "you wont come to class next week?"
She said this, INFRONT OF THE CLASS! It was this kind of atmosphere I needed to escape, and I had taken a whole week off school. It was a mid-term holiday. I was so excited. The next day I was off to Korea.
Now, Japanese people have a very strong idea that their culture is unique. I have had hundreds of conversations with people here telling them that other countries also, in fact, have 4 seasons. My Japanese teacher, who is a very smart and worldly woman even tried convincing me that tofu was a Japanese invention. They also have a unnatural distrust or fear of Korea, as if Korea has been invading Japan for the last 500 years. In fact, most Japanese culture came from Korea or China (via Korea), and yet, possibly the biggest insult you could give a Japanese person is saying they look Korean.
In a delightful twist of irony, the day I was leaving Japan to go to Korea was Japan Culture day. It seemed perfect. I needed some time out of Japanland.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)