I'm Out!

Today is my last day of work, and my second-to-last in Korea. Tomorrow will be spent packing up, showing the POTGOS around Seoul a little more, and making general arrangements for departure. Shortly after lunch on Sunday, I depart for Tokyo. So I guess it's time to wrap this baby up.

I know when I get back to the U.S. I'm going to be besieged with questions along the lines of "How was Korea?" Obviously, there is no simple answer. I don't even really know where to begin trying to sum this up. I will say that I got exactly what I wanted out of this summer. I wanted to go somewhere totally different, somewhere that I'd never been and would in all liklihood never go to again (at least for a long time). I wanted to experience what it's like to find myself in a completely foreign culture and have to figure my way through it. I wanted both the challenge and the excitement of doing that, and my two months in Korea have more than provided it.

In hindsight, I'm extremely glad that I wound up coming here. Unlike a lot of other countries to which I sent resumes, I didn't really have much of an impression of Korea before I came here--it was very much a last-minute decision, something that I never really contemplated until the end of January. Because I hadn't formed a whole slew of preconceived expectations, I think I was really able to see Korea with a fresh set of eyes that made the experience more exciting and more enjoyable.

A few other thoughts, and then I'll wrap up:

--As I said above, I wanted not just the exhilaration but also the challenge of travellin to someplace completely different. Boy did I get it. I hadn't realized just how great the language barrier would be, and just how isolating that could make it from time to time. After a while, the novelty of struggling through an elaborate pantomime or looking up words in a phrasebook just to order a meal or buy mouthwash wears off, and you start to really miss the familiar. I definitely felt that, even though I had friends here and worked at a firm where everyone spoke at least some English and most people spoke quite well or fluently. It gave me tremendous respect for those immigrants who pick themselves up and just flat-out move to another country and build a whole new life. This felt sort of like summer camp to me, in the sense that there was always an end date set. But what a challenge to try and make a new life out of it.
--I gained, I think, a greater appreciation for the nuances of the North Korea/South Korea situation. It's far more complex than we see in the States, and certainly more complex than the Bush administration portrays. It's instructive that everyone here--liberals and conservatives--thinks that Bush is screwing this whole thing up because he simply doesn't understand it. Maybe the Bush administration will take that to heart. Yeah, right.
--While the "touristy" things that I did (visiting Gyongbokung palace, the DMZ, the beach at Busan and the beautifully bizzare baseball game) were memorable and lots of fun, the thing that was great about this summer was that by spending a full two months here, and because I got to meet people through the firm and through other friends, I was able to get additional points of entry into Korean culture that I wouldn't have gotten otherwise, and this in turn meant I was able to break out of the "typical" tourist life. I've eaten mostly at restaurants that don't cater to westerners, and I've gotten to experience aspects of Korean life--visits to norebang, booking, room salons, my trip to Ganghwa island--that tourists can't really access. This was perhaps the most exciting and interesting part of my time here.

So that's my take. I would have thought that I'd understand Korea better after two months here than when I first arrived, but in some ways the opposite is true. Each time I thought I'd dug a little bit into Korean culture, for the step forward I took I discovered far greater layers of complexity lying beneath the surface. I suppose I have a greater knowledge of Korean culture than I did in May, but that little bit of knowledge also makes me aware of just how little I know.

One last thing--several people have asked if I'm going to continue the blog either for my trip to Japan and China or when I return to the States. My friend Norm Ham even suggested a satirical GFOS back in Boston (with entries like "I went to Dunkin' Donuts again today. Apparently Bostonians can't pronounce the letter "R" and are legally required to wear one item of Citysports clothing each day). Not gonna happen. This blog was a good method for sharing my experiences and misadventures, but once I leave here I first become just another tourist and then just a schmuck law student who occupied with the contents of his navel. You don't want to read about it any more than you want to see your aunt and uncle's vacation videos, and I'm not going to pretend you do. So it ends here.

Thanks for reading this summer and following along. If you commented from time-to-time, thanks for adding you two cents. As Chris Russo would put it, that's a nice job by you guys there. Good work outta the readers. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing.

The Godfather has left the building.

Saying Anyo

Quick correction to earlier post. One astute reader took umbridge with my less-than-generous characterization of "The Wizard" last week. While I stand by my Walton-esque description of it as "just terrrrrrible," I completely forgot that the movie previewed "Super Mario Brothers 3," the defining video game of my adolesncence. You could turn Mario into a flying beaver, for crying out loud! Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

Anyway, "anyo" means "so long," and since I'm leaving Korea in a few days, I've begun saying "anyo" to the places I've been frequenting for the past few months. I've developed an elaborate and, I think, rather effective pantomime indicating that I'm leaving Korea (it involves pointing to myself, making a series of "birds flying away" gestures with my hands, and then pointing to a calendar), so I've been able to convey the imminency of my departure to local merchants, restauranteurs and others with whom I've developed something of a rapport. When I told the people at my bulgogi restaurant the other night, they gave me a small bottle of some sort of warm yogurt drink. I'm not going to touch it ("warm yogurt drink" seems like the perfect way to get food poisoning before I go to Japan), but I appreciate the sentiment. I also got a parting gift from my Starbucks friends (which seems appropriate, given that I spent about $15,000 there this summer), and a very enthusiastic goodbye when I got my hair cut a second time.

My parents (whom we'll call POTGOS--"Parents of the Godfather of Seoul"--I know, it's a mouthful. I'm open to suggestions for alternatives to POTGOS) arrived in Seoul last night, so I get to show them around for a few days before we take off. It will be nice to get to be a little bit of an expert for a change. I only have a limited number of meals with them before we leave, so I'm trying to figure out exactly which Korean foods to showcase. Be assured that any type of yogurt drink will not make the list. Soju, however, will, and pictures of my father singing kareoke will open at $59.99 on ebay.

Why does the Village Voice have a Korea fetish?

I don't know, but here's the second article in the past week on Korea-meets-New-York. I get to be so hip and in the know when I get back.

Go You Spurs!

I have never been to a pro soccer game. To be completely honest, I think it's kind of a dumb sport with not nearly enough scoring (although who does't love tie games?) and I fail to understand the rest of the world's obsession with it when baseball and basketball and curling are far more exciting. Reports that my antipathy towards soccer can be directly linked to the day in first grade when Chris Hegarty kicked me in the shins could not be confirmed.

Soccer is really popular in Korea, however, since they co-hosted the World Cup in 2002. And so when I learned that a soccer tournament called the Peace Cup was to be held here during my stay, I figured I should go. The Peace Cup is an eight-team tournament contested by clubs from a bunch of different countries. They've been playing some sort of elimination tournament for the past week or so, and yesterday was the final match, between the Tottenham Hotspur of England (motto: "Go You Spurs!") and Olympique Lyonnias of France (motto: "Ow! Not in the face!").

The game was sold out, but because the Korean team failed to make the final, tickets were readily available from scalpers. In fact, we were able to get our seats at a discount, paying a little more than half price for two seats up in the stratosphere. Undaunted, and motivated by a desire to promote cross-cultural understanding, we introduced the American custom of "sneaking downstairs into the good seats" to Korean society. I await the call of the Nobel Peace Prize committee.

Not knowing anything about either of the two teams, my friend and I decided to root for Tottenham. Our reasoning was twofold. First, how can you not root for a team called the "Hotspur?" And second, we couldn't possibly support a team from a country that hates freedom.

Turns out we made the right call. The Brits absolutely dominated the first half, scoring two goals about 5 minutes apart and then a third one with about ten minutes remaining in the half. The second goal came on a chip shot over the French goalie who did not even try to stop it and seemed only vaguely aware that a soccer game was taking place. This stood in marked contrast to the English goalie who may have supplanted Takeru Kobayashi as the greatest athlete of my lifetime. This guy was an absolute beast. He was jumping, diving, and putting on an absolute show, making magnificent save after magnificent save. Bear in mind that the French players were kickinig the the ball very hard. And yet instead of doing what any sensible person would have done and getting the hell out of the way, this guy actually moved towards the ball. Inspiring.

Down 3-0 to begin the second half, Olympique Lyonnais found itself in the most dire straits faced by a Frenchman since Jean Valjean. I assumed they would simply play out the half and go home. But to the surprise of all, the French refused to surrender (raise your hand if you think I didn't make that joke 50 times throughout the half). They kept up the attack, and even secured a penalty kick at one point, which they converted to make it 3-1. They kept up the effort for the rest of the half, but the Brits held them off to take the title. Still, a valliant effort. I almost felt bad about trying to teach the Korean kids sitting in my section to call them "cheese-eating surrender monkeys."

A few final notes and observations:

--I've decided that, as a whole, I don't like soccer players. Way too many of them fake like they're hurt and then "gamely" continue on. On three separate occassions, a player went down and called for a stretcher to take him off. Once on the sideline, he stood up and then re-entered the game. You should have to have either a broken bone (and a big one, not just one of the little ones in your foot) or have lost a leg completely to warrant a stretcher. Here's the rule I propose: if you leave the field, you can only return and keep playing using the same method you used to leave. So if you walk off under your own power, you can come back on, but if you get stretchered off, the four guys who bore the stretcher need to carry you around for the rest of the game. Once you're off your feet, you're off your feet.
--Like in baseball, nobody boos. So even when the French goalie pulled a Manny Ramirez and ignored the shot going over his head, the French fans (or rather, the Korean contingent rooting for the French) just cheered louder and banged their thunderstix together.
--Oh, that's right. They have thunderstix too. And dried squid.

Anyway, overall it was a very exciting day, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that I did not spontaneously combust, the sweltering heat notwithstanding. The good guys won, freedom prevailled and I gained a slight degree of respect for soccer, even though I think the players are a bunch of (expletive deleted). Well worth the 15,000 won.

World Cup Stadium

Preparing for a corner kick.

The Superfans and their Thunderstix

Hot in Herre

The rainy season in Seoul has ended, and we're now into the hot season. And by hot, I mean stupefyingly hot. Mind-numbing, lifeblood-draining, can't-think-for-even-a-second-about-anything-other-than-how-FREAKING-hot-it-is hot. Apocalyptically hot.

I tried to stay indoors in the air conditioning when I could, spending much of Saturday at the mall where I did some last minute shopping and actually saw the taping of a televised professional video-game battle. I also thought this was a good time to try a traditional Korean drink, a cold rice wine called dongdongju. It comes chilled in a large pitcher with pieces of ice, and you ladle it into a small drinking bowl. Sounds refreshing. Unfortunately, dongdongju is Korean for "thing that tastes like too-thin runny yogurt that's been left in the sun for three days." Yuck. The stuff was absolutely wretched. On the whole, Korean alcohol has been disappointing, if unforgettable.

Game Boys

Do you remember "The Wizard?" It was a terrible movie from the late '80's starring Fred Savage as a boy who's parents are splitting and who's mentally disturbed younger brother turns out to be a video game savant. They travel cross-country together so that little mute brother can compete in the world video game championships. Hillarity, hijinks, and heartwarming moments ensue.

Turns out they could have come to Korea. Every now and then when I'm watching television, I see what appears to be video games on the screen, usually some sort of space ship game. I didn't really know what to make of it--figured it was some commercial or something. Nope. Turns out that competative video game playing is a BIG deal in Korea. The top players--in the ultimate WATFO, almost always guys between 15 and 23--compete on television for valuable prizes. According to the lawyer who explained this to me, the game is a role-playing game (see previous sentence about top players) and if you understand what's going on, can actually make for pretty compelling television.

Now where's Winnie Cooper?

You've got to be kidding me

The Next Big Thing, according to the Village Voice...

Bookworm

I've read all of the books I brought with me, about a dozen, so yesterday evening, I wandered into the Kyobo bookstore, which I've been told is one of the largest bookstores in Seoul and certainly has the largest selection of English-language books in the city. I was pretty impressed, as they had a wide array of both recent, popular works and "classic" literature in English, as well as a good-sized nonfiction collection. I settled on "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand. I've never read it and want to see what the hype is about. Plus, the 1000 pages should hold me for a while.

One thing of note--I was amazed at how many textbooks were for sale. There were shelves and shelves of American economics, chemistry and phsyics textbooks. There were even two shelves of law casebooks (attention Section 6-ers: without too much effort I found both Dukminier and Kadish--they were just as expensive as at the Coop). I don't know if these were for local university classes or to help students prepare for study in the U.S. I have heard many people here both support and lament the Korean "obsession" with brand-name education in American Universities and the study of English. A friend of mine who teaches at a hagwon (private language schools--think Kaplan on steroids--which abound in Seoul) says that she receives tremendous deference because she went to Yale, and that after Ivy-League schools, the most prestigious institutions are U.S. State universities, because they have names people recognize. Thus, a degree from the University of Iowa, for example, is more prestigious than one from Amherst college.

On a lighter note, when I walked home from the bookstore I passed a new wine shop that opened recently. The shop's full name is Story of Wine, although it goes by this name for short (look in the lower right hand corner after you click the link). I guess the owners didn't go to one of the hagwons.

T-Shirts

Two t-shirts I have seen all over town:

1) Shirts that have the words "Ask? Enquired." somewhere on them. Sometimes "Ask" is on the front and "Enquired" on the back, sometimes the two are next to each other. Often there is an image of a British flag on the shirt as well. I see this shirt at least twice a day. Is this a trend I'm not aware of ? Comments appreciated on this front.
2) The Paris Hilton oversized "That's Hot" t-shirt is very popular here. Good to see we're exporting the very best of our culture. I will keep a lookout for Tonya Harding celebrity boxing t-shirts as well.

Busan and the Beach

This weekend I decided to take a trip to Busan (a.k.a. Pusan), the second largest city in Korea. Busan is in the Southeast of the penninsula, and is the major port city in Korea. It's also become a major destination for beachgoers, and this was the major attraction to me. Seeing temples and palaces is all good and well, but every now and then you need to just sit in the sun and smell the surf.

Busan is a little more than 300 miles away from Seoul, so to get there, I took the KTX, the high-speed train. I cannot emphasize how cool this thing is. It tops out at close to 190 mph, although sitting inside it you have no idea that you're going a third of that speed. The ride is smooth and peaceful, with the dulcet sounds of all the passengers' cell phones providing a soothing soundtrack to compliment the verdent countryside we sped through.

(Note: While the countryside is, in fact, quite beautiful, the part about the cell phones is a total lie. If there was an olympic event for "Most Annoying Cell Phone Ring Tones," competitors from South Korea would take gold, silver and bronze and would shame the competition with how far ahead they finished. Nobody--not even elderly men or women--are content to have basic ring tones. Shrill bird chirps or too-loud Korean pop are the sounds of choice, although one particularly malicious individual sitting behind me actually selected a ring tone that sounds like a crying baby. To borrow a line from Bill Simmons, I don't even have a joke here).

I arrived in Busan station at about 1:30 and hopped in a cab to take me to Hayundae beach, where I was staying. My cabbie was an older man, and perhaps to make up for the speed with which the KTX took me, he set records for yellow lights yielded to and most times being passed on the right. I got the sense that he was once a great driver, but had simply succumbed to old age and fading eyesight. It was sort of the taxi equivalent of watching Mike Piazza hit these days.

I finally made it to Hayundae around 2:30, and was not disappointed. I grabbed a quick lunch and hit the beach, where I was pretty much encamped for the next 26 hours. You can see the pictures below. Hayundae is commonly referred to as the Waikiki of Korea. I've never been to Waikiki, but it struck me as more like Coney Island. The beach was rocky and a little dirty, and very crowded. There was a small boardwalk, along which vendors sold tchotchkies, fake tattoos, and refreshments such as corn dogs (no joke), enormous dried squid and the ubiquitous silkworm larvae. There are concessions where you can pop a balloon with a dart and win a prize, and even an acquarium. Unfortunately, the Cyclone was closed.

I spent Saturday afternoon/evening and Sunday morning on the beach, managing to get myself a decent tan for only 24 hours (and managing to burn only the top of my right foot--go figure). I walked into the town for lunch on Sunday, looking for seafood since there's so much fishing in Busan. I settled on a place that specializes in crab, and got bimimbap with cold, marinated blue crab. The crab meat was sort of congealed and gelatinous, but was still quite tasty. There was a jellyfish salad on the side that was excellent. Then I went back out to the beach to finish tanning.
One other cool thing--you know how you always have to wash the sand off your feet when you leave the beach? Here, instead of having those cold water showers that never quite work, they have little high-pressure air sprayers that you can use to blow the sand off your feet. This rivals the KTX for awesomeness.

At 3:45 I caught a cab back into town. We got to the train station pretty quickly, so I didn't mind that much that my cabbie clearly went a long way to jack up the fare (I paid almost twice as much as for the ride in--I think we went to the station via Bangkok). I caught an earlier train home. I was initially really excited, because I was seated in first class on the train ride back (at no extra charge!). However, it turns out that first class is in no discernable way different from coach. I guess it's always first class on the ol' KTX.

Hayundae Beach, the Coney Island of Korea.

This beach brought to you by McDonald's

On the street of Hayundae in Busan

Hayundae beach at twilight

"It's fun to stay at the whyyyyyy emmmm ceyay!"

Water, Water everywhere (well, sort of)

One quick observation, as I become increasingly confused by Korea each day. People don't drink much water here, or maybe it just feels that way because we drink so much in the U.S. (half the people I know, myself included, carry water bottles around). Whatever the case, they don't drink nearly as much here as I'm used to. People only purchase water for very quick thirst-quenchers, or to keep at home and give to their family. The result is that bottles of water come in only two sizes: "shot glass" and "big enough to irrigate the coffee fields of your average Guatemalan farmer." I drink about a liter of water a day, maybe a little more. So if I were to use the little bottle, I'd be running to the water cooler in the office every five minutes. Instead, I've got the big bottle, a 2 liter behemoth that is causing the water-bottle compartment of my bag to slowly tear away. I think I'm going to get a rolling suitcase to carry it the last two weeks so I don't develop back problems.

The Answer

I learned today why Mr. Pizza's slogan is "Pizza for Women." Allegedly, their pizza has 50% less fat than other pizzas. Right. And Karl Rove isn't the leak, either.

Birthday Fun

Yesterday there was a birthday in the office, so everyone took a quick break for a celebration. We sang "Happy Birthday" in Korean (well, they all sang, I just clapped afterwards). Same song, same words, just in Korean. Then we had cake. Or not exactly cake. In the U.S., we usually have some sort of chocolate or cream-filled confection. The cake here was a sort of an amalgamation of little cakes made out of bean or rice flour. It was a series of layers, all separated by thin cellophane sheets, forming one big cake-like structure. A Voltron-cake, if you will. The bean and rice cakes are very chewy and gummy, but not particularly sweet. Overall, I think I'll stick with Hostess.

Pizza

After six weeks of eating Kalbi, soondobu and Bimimbap, I gave into my pizza craving last night. There's a Mr. Pizza, which I guess is a Korean or Asian pizza chain, about 15 minutes from my place. The restaurant was very crowded, even at 9:30, which is on the late side for dinner here. After perusing my options, I decided on the Chicken pizza, bypassing the "Bulgogi pizza" or the "Sweety pizza," neither of which I wanted to contemplate. The Chicken Pizza turned out to be okay, although random pieces of baked potato on top didn't fit so well. One other thing--Mr. Pizza's motto is "Pizza for women." I am going to try and find out why this might be, but right now I can't even hazard a guess.

Lastly, a special shout-out to the other half of the two-man party who finished the Alaska marathon in 3 hours and change.

Lunch and Buttons

I had Indian food for lunch today, which was the first time I've had it in Korea. It was actually pretty similar to the Indian food we have in the states, which was surprising and disappointing (I was sure that squid would be involved). It was a little spicier, and there were a variety of different types of Lassies (is that the plural of "Lassi?"). I had pomegranate. I'm going to attempt to have pizza tonight, which I've been craving since I got home last night and found a take-out flyer for "June Pizza & Ckicken." I'll pass on the ckicken, but I really could go for a good slice. Rumor has it that Domino's is actually really good here.

Other cool discovery--in the elevators in some of the more modern buildings, if you push an elevator button once it's been lit up, it will go off. So you can "un-do" a trip to a floor if you inadvertantly push the wrong button. Sounds convenient, although it must be disappointing for teenage pranksters who like to push all the buttons in an elevator and make it stop at every floor. Not that I'd know...

Why I don't watch TV in Korea

I have a television in my apartment that gets more than 40 channels, but only two of them are in Korean. One is the BBC world news, which is informative if not scintillating. The other is the Armed Forces Network (AFN). AFN actually has several channels, such as AFN Sports, AFN News and AFN Spectrum. I only get AFN Prime. It's by far the worst of the options. So tonight, while other channels are showing the West Wing (I'm amazed this is on Armed Forces television), the Daily Show (ditto) and pro wrestling (less surprising), I get 7th Heaven and and the made-for-TV-movie "Locusts." Last week was "What Women Want," with Mel Gibson. There are literally thousands of channels they could borrow programming from, and I seem to get the stuff from Lifetime and the WB. Sweet.

Argh!

That, dear readers, is a title of frustration. Because as much as Korea does some things very well (assigned seats in movie theaters and little umbrella baggies, not to mention no tipping in restaurants) there are a few things they do very, very badly. Utilizing drying machines is one of them. Odd that in the land of a thousand dry cleaners it's nearly impossible to find a decent dryer. The dryer in my apartment building takes about an hour to run through its cycle, and when finished has transformed your laundry from cold, wet clothes into...slightly less cold, equally wet clothes. The dryer is piss-poor.

I mentioned this to a friend a few weeks ago, and she told me that few people here actually use automatic dryers. They use washing machines, but hang most of the clothes to dry. A lawyer here told me this is a vestige of the belief that people got energy from the sun; hanging laundry out to dry was a way to capture some of this energy. This sounds fine and good if you've got lots of drying racks and don't care about your clothes being soft, but if you're me and neither of the above conditions apply, well, it kind of sucks. Suffice it to say that I did laundry yesterday, and now socks, underwear and t-shirts are hanging from every conceivable chair, doorknob and closet in my small studio apartment.

Movies, Chicken and Rain

Another triumph for me yesterday, as I successfully purchased movie tickets without the assistance of any Korean-speaking friends. Saw "War of the Worlds," which wasn't any good but was in English, so I was happy. English-language movies aren't always easy to find, and beggars can't be choosers. I had movie theater popcorn, which was really exciting, although I was disappointed that they don't seem to put butter (or rather, butter-flavored topping) on the popcorn here. They do sell peanut-butter squid, whatever that is. It comes pre-packaged with a smiling squid on the front. I have yet to try it.

One thing I did have today was a dish called samgetang, or ginseng chicken. Ginseng is very popular here, and Korean ginseng is considered to be the highest quality ginseng in Asia (they grow a lot of it in Ganghwa island, where I went over the weekeng). Samgetang is a sort of soup--you get a bowl of broth with a small whole chicken in it, and the chicken is stuffed with rice, dates and ginseng. You pick pieces of meat off the chicken and dip it in salt before eating it. I wish I had known about it when I was sick. But it's also a good dish when it's raining out, which it is today. We're a little more than halfway through the rainy season, which apparently lasts a month or so. With the exception of the few hurricanes that hit the Northeastern US when I was growing up, I have never seen so much rain fall for such a long period of time. There are heavy rainstorms that last for almost 24 hours. But, from the school of "things I think Korea does really well that we should adopt," all the buildings have little stations at the front door with bags for your umbrella, so you can carry it inside without getting everything wet.

Ganghwa Island

On Saturday morning, beneath a grey and rainy sky, I set out for Ganghwa island off the western coast of Korea. One of the lawyers from my firm had very graciously offered to take me, and I was excited about my first real trip outside of Seoul (aside from the DMZ). For such a small country, Korea's landscape changes dramatically from place to place. By the time we arrived, the sun had come out and it turned into a beautiful day.

Because of it's position as a point of entry from the West Sea, Ganghwa has been the site of many battles during the frequent invasions of Korea by other countries (including Japan, China, the Mongols, the French and the U.S. when Korea was first opened). When Genghis Khahn and the Mongols invaded Korea in the early 13th century, the ruling family of the Goryeo dynasty (the modern-day name "Korea" comes from "Goryeo") moved the capital from what is now Kesan (in North Korea) to Ganghwa for 39 years, since the island woudl be easier to defend. There are lots of fortifications around the island, as well as Royal Tombs. There are also several incredible Buddhist temples built into the hillside.

Now that Korea is at relative peace, Ganghwa has become a beatiful and serene retreat. It's a farming community where people grow ginseng, lotus, peppers and rice--lots of rice--and the pace of life moves slowly. The scenery is simply goregous, and it was great to get away and spend a day there. I hope you enjoy the pictures below--this is just a small selection.

To best understand this section, read the next post about lunch. Then go down to the last of the pictures from Ganghwa, and scroll up through them.

Lunch on Ganghwa Island

I thought this deserved its own post. For lunch we had soon-dae, which is a traditional Korean dish. It's a fatty pork sausage made with pig stomach and other ground-up pork. It's accompanied with a soup made from pork lung--that's right, I ate pig lung, people. And I'll tell you what else--it was delicious.

Accodring to my friend, Soon-dae is a very good hangover remedy. So maybe the next time I've had too much to drink back in the states, I'll see if I can substitute pig lung for my usual egg and cheese on a bagel.

Happy and sweaty after a mountain climb.

View from the top of the mountain.

Enormous Buddha carving at the top of the mountain. The swastika in the middle is actually an ancient Buddhist symbol, appropriated by the Nazis in the 1930's. You see them on Buddhist temples all over the country. I saw them years ago in India too.

Beginning the climb...

Inside a temple at Bomunsa. Individual prayers hang from the roof.

At Bomunsa temple. We climed to the top of the mountain in the background.

People feeding seagulls on the ferry to Bomunsa, another temple on a small island off Ganghwa

Jeongusa Buddhist temple in the hillside.

Jeongusa Temple

Gwangesongbo gate

View from the fortress

Rice field. Many of the fields have some sort of design or writing dyed into the grass.

Royal Family Cemetary at Gwangseongbo Fortress

More Odds and Ends

--I noticed something very strange at one of the subway stations yesterday. At the top of a very long flight of stairs which leads down into the station was a wheelchair ramp. The ramp was only about two feet long, and anyone reaching its apex would then have to climb down this long flight of stairs. There was no elevator or any other form of wheelchair access in sight. I have no idea what use it was supposed to provide.
--For such a technophillic population, Koreans appear to use email infrequently, at least compared to Americans. People check their email every hour or so at work, but they don't leave it on and respond right away when something comes in the way that a lot of Americans do. Several people have commented to me on the speed of my email turn-around time. Apparently spam is a big problem in Korea, and this is why people don't use email as much, although they text message like it's going out of style.
--T-shirts seen yesterday: "Mach Daddy (presumably the wearer was Totally Krossed Out)" and "Musical: The Play."

Identity Crisis

A quick word about the language here. While most people don't speak much English (or, more frequently, are too embarassed about the quality of their English to even try speaking to me, an incredibly frustrating development given the state of my Korean), English signs and writing abound. All the subway stops are marked in both Korean and English, and many restaurants will have at least some English writing (ie "Restaurant") on the sinage as well. It can get trickier once inside--most menus are only in Korean or even worse, will have limited English (there might be a listing for "sandwiches" written in English, but all the types of sandwiches listed will only be in Korean--what a tease!)--but I certainly see English writing every day, and there's no novelty to seeing it.

Coming back from the restaurant last night, however, we passed a Mexican bar/restaurant called "Casa Del Sol." I cannot tell you how excited I was to see Spanish writing. I have no idea why. Almost nobody here speaks Spanish, and it's not like my limited Spanish can help me in any way here. I guess it was misplaced relief at being able to understand something in a foreign language. Maybe I can recapture that feeling if I order bimimbap the next time I'm in East Harlem.

Rise of the Machines

I went out for Japanese food last night with some friends. We had conveyor-belt sushi. I've had this once before in the U.S., and I think it's incredibly cool. All the tables are situated along this winding conveyor belt, and the sushi chefs make small plates of sushi and place them on the belt. Rather than ordering, you just take what you like as it goes by you on the conveyor belt. The plates are color-coded by price (ie 1000 won for a red plate, 2000 won for a blue plate, etc.), and when you're done, the waiter just looks at all the empty plates on your table and calculates the bill.

The meal was incredible, and my two dinner companions were delightful. There were only two slight drawbacks. One was that, because the Korean system of finding buildings is so confusing (see my initial entry), it took us for-EVER to find the restaurant. Basically, the way you find places is to drive to the neighborhood and ask people for directions until you move progressively closer to your destination. It's sort of like trying to find your way in Boston.

The other drawback was that the restaurant attacked me. Allow me to explain. Because space is at such a premium in Seoul, most restaurants don't have their own restroom facilities. Rather, several restaurants in one spot will share a communal bathroom. So to use the facilities, you have to go outside the restaurant and usually walk up a flight of stairs or something. I didn't realize that the front door to our restaurant was automatic, and it shut on me as I was walking out. Fortunately, the only bruises sustained were to my ego.

So that's how it happened...

An interesting story explained to me today over bimimbap (a light, healthy lunch dish consisting of rice, shredded lettuce and carrots, a fried egg and spicy pepper sauce--delicious for only $4!), with a side of hot and spicy soft shell crab:

You may remember that a while back, when I mentioned getting my hair cut, I explained how I almost went to one of the shops marked by a barber pole which is in fact a house of ill-repute. Today I learned how that came to be. Apparently, the way that it happened was this:In 1980, South Korea democratically elected a president, reclaiming power after a military coup. One of his policies was to try and end prostitution, so he rounded up all the prostitutes in Korea (to the extent such a thing was possible), and trained them in barber-skills. They learned how to cut hair, shave customers, and give legit massages. When they finished training, they were sent back into the job market with their newly acquired skills and were hired by the barbershops that catered to men. You can see where this is going.

It was only a matter of time before the babershop owners realized what sort of resource they had on their hands. Barbershops, as a means of attracting customers, started offering certain "extras" to people who came in. The more this happened, the more customer expectations started to change so that the"extras" were now simply part of the haircutting experience. The result isthat barbershops have evolved into these sort of seedy places--borderline brothels, really--and almost all men get their hair cut at hair shops, which are akin to unisex salons in the states.

Interesting story. All the more reason I'm glad I went to my friend Eun Soo at the salon-of-great-but-completely-wholesome-pampering a couple of weeks ago.

Gym Weirdness

Weird stuff at the gym (as though it wasn't weird enough):

--Nobody drinks water. In the U.S., people bring enormous bottles of water to the gym with them and constantly drink. Here, I'm the only person with a water bottle (which is why I stand out). There is a water cooler in one of the corners, and they supply tiny paper...I don't know what you'd call them. They're not really cups you can drink from. They're more like very small paper pockets that hold about an ounce of water. You use those to drink. Maybe you're supposed to mix it with Korean beer, which has about the same consistency, alcohol content and taste.

--Almost nobody listens to music. I'm one of the very few people with headphones. This is surprising, all the more so because on the street, everyone is plugged into these tiny little MP3 players that look like 1 inch-square cubes that you wear around your neck.

--Just noticed it a few days ago: they have a putting green for you to practice golf. I guess this is the low-impact part of the workout.

Small Victories

Two small victories, both on the food front:

--Two days ago, for the first time since I've gotten to Seoul, I managed to go to a restaurant I'd eaten at previously and order a different dish. This might seem like a trivial accomplishment, but please keep in mind that a) most restaurants only serve a few different things--it's not like the U.S. where every Korean restaurant serves "every" type of Korean food and b) all the menus are in Korean and I can't read it. But with the help of my trusty Lonely Planet glossary-of-important-food-terms-that-you-don't-think-you'll-need-but-just-wait-and-you'll-thank-us-later, I was able to order a spicy chicken dish at the Chinese restaurant where I had previously only been the Fried Rice Guy.
--I had Kalbi last night with a friend, which is barbecued beef ribs. You sit at a table with a sort of pit in the center, and they bring hot coals and a grill to your table with the raw meat. You cook the meat at your table and eat it with lettuce, garlic, and a spicy red pepper sauce. This I've done before. The victory came in the preparation. I've seen almost no knives since I've been to Korea. When they slice up large pieces of steak or pork, they do so with very sharp kitchen scissors. It's a real art to use these scissors properly. Well, dear readers, last night I was a kalbi surgeon. I wielded the scissors with a precision known only to the finest chefs and garment district workers. Pardon me as I brush some dirt off my shoulders.

Odds and Ends

Not much new to report from here, as I've been sick with a nasty head and chest cold the past few days. Being sick in general sucks. Being sick during the summer really sucks. But I have to say that being sick in a foreign country where you don't speak a word of the language and the very concept of matzoh ball soup doesn't exist is probably the worst (although it was a bit much to hope for the matzoh ball soup). I spent most of the weekend resting, and am now back at work. So just a few quick notes/observations about life here that don't really fit into any of the general postings:

With apologies to Peter Gammons and Larry King...

--Lots of restaurants don't have menus here. They serve just a few dishes, and so the menu is written somewhere on the walls. This means that I can't get any Korean dish at any particular restaurant, and so different places have become my "go-to" restaurant when I'm in the mood for Bulgogi (a beef-based noodle soup) or barbecue or soondofu etc.
--Chopsticks here are made of metal, not wood. They are much harder to use, because you don't get the same traction when picking up your food. It took me a couple of weeks to get good. I can now use them pretty well, but still have some trouble with tofu and other dishes of precarious texture.
--Last food thing: Koreans eat rice with a spoon. I spent a week thinking I was a bad-ass for being able to survive without a fork, eating rice with chopsticks, until someone pointed out that I was doing it all wrong.
--One popular look for men in the summer is the short-sleeved dress shirt with a tie. I don't get it. Those of you who were afraid I'd forgotten everything I learned about fashion over the last year can relax. And someone please get Chris a paper bag, because he's almost certainly hyperventilating upon reading this.
--While they don't have the Jewish pennicilin here, they do have excellent tea. Yesterday I had crysanthemum tea, which was maybe the best beverage I've ever tasted. It was truly like drinking a flower. Someone please get my dad a paper bag, because he's almost certainly hyperventiliating upon reading this.
--Lastly, a happy belated July 4 to everyone. Obviously they don't celebrate it here, but I hope you all got to see fireworks or some great athletic contest.

The DMZ

On 7:15 on Saturday morning, I arrived at Camp Kim in Seoul for a trip the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). Trips to the DMZ are only operated by certain authorized groups, and the most recognized one is the United Services Organization (the USO, which provides entertainment, assistance and support for U.S. troops abroad).

I've got a lot to tell you about this trip, so I'm going to divide it into multiple posts. For the sake of reading ease, I'll arrange the postings so that you can follow simply by scrolling down as you read. In the rest of the blog, newer entries are posted above older entries. In this case, you should simply read down until you get to my last entry, entitled "In Da Club." Just for your convenience.

One other thing. Most of my postings thus far have been characterized by what I think of as good-natured snarkiness, as it's the best tone for my bumbling through Korea. The DMZ postings will be a little different. This is a really serious place. It's very intense, very scary, and the soliders posted there are under constant threat of death. In other words, it doesn't seem like the right place for lots of "Seoul" puns. I'm sure you understand.

Camp Bonifas

The bus ride from Camp Kim in Seoul to Camp Bonifas in the DMZ is about 40 miles and takes a little over an hour to complete at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. After getting out of the center city, you drive along the Han river, which divides Seoul in two, following it up to where it enters North Korea. The first sign that something is unusual is when you realize that, as soon as you get outside of the city, the highway is cut off from the river by an unbroken barbed wire fence that goes for about 30 miles. In 1968, North Korean guerillas swam from the North into the South and attacked the Blue House, the residence of the South Korean president. So now there is a fence there to stop them.

The DMZ itself runs 240 kilometers long and is 4000 meters wide--each side has backed off from the actual line of demarcation by 2000 meters. It is heavily fortified with land mines, barbed wire, and tank traps, and guard towers stand on both the Norther and Southern side (you can see the North Korean guard towers from several points). The land has essentially been untouched by humans for over 50 years, since the cessation of the Korean war in 1953. One interesting side-effect of this arrangement is that the 4000 meter-wide strip has become a natural paradise, with a wide variety of unusual birds and animals thriving without human interference.

You must bring your passport with you to visit the DMZ. Ours was checked twice; a soldier boarded our bus when we crossed from the civilian territory, and at a later checkpoint we were made to disembark, show our passports, and return to the bus. There is a strict dress code, and if you don't follow it you will not be allowed off the bus. You also have to sign a waiver acknowledging that you are voluntarily entering an "active combat zone" and absolving the Army of any liability in the event of "enemy action."

We arrived at Camp Bonifas for a briefing given to us by a U.S. Army soldier. The camp is named for a U.S. Captail who was killed in the so-called axe murder incident 1976. A tree was blocking the view from one of the observation towers into the North. The U.S./South Koreans wanted to cut down the tree, but agreed in a compromise with the North to simply trim the branches. When Bonifas led a patrol to cut the tree down, several North Korean soldiers attacked, killing Bonifas with an axe.

The camp itself actually looks a little like my old summer camp, but with a far more somber attitude. There is a tennis court, and even a one-hole golf course (bordered on one side by land mines). The motto of Camp Bonifas is "In Front of Them All," since if the North Koreans decided to attack, Bonifas would face the brunt of the assault (North Korea has approximately 17,000 pieces of artilery pointed towards Seoul). Following the briefing, we left our tour buses and got on on special military buses to visit the Joint Security Area, the area within the DMZ that is patrolled on one side by soliders of the KPA (Korean People's Army, the North) and the other side by units of ROK (Republic of Korea, the South).

Tennis Court at Camp Bonifas

Camp Bonifas at the DMZ. It actually looks a little like a summer camp, except for all the barbed wire and guard towers.

Panmunjeom and the JSA

Following the briefing, we went into the DMZ to Panmunjeom, the UN-established area where the two sides come right up against the border. Getting off the bus, we formed two single-file lines and walked briskly into the visitor reception area (we were not allowed to stop and take pictures). We walked through a hall and then through the back door, where we saw the North Korean counterpart maybe a few hundred feet across. Basically, there's a courtyard between the two welcome centers with four diplomatic structures that house talks set up between them. The border itself is represented by a raised concrete slab that runs across the courtyard and bisects all the diplomatic buildings. Looking across the courtyard, we could see the North Korean soldiers watching us.

I cannot describe how intense this is. There is no fraternization of any kind between the KPA and the ROK soliders. They stand at attention on their respective sides, staring each other down. The ROK soldiers stand half-shielded by the diplomatic houses (to provide the North Koreans with a smaller target), in a modified tae-kwon-do stance. They wear dark sunglasses at all times to maximize the intimidation factor. It works. We were told to stand in a very specific spot to look across, and told that we could, under no circumstances, gesture or point towards the North Korean soldiers watching us. At one point, one member of our group stepped down out of the demarcated area and our guide yelled "Sir, do not step down off that step!" The air of menace and hostility is palpable. When KPA soldiers emerged from their building, the crowd involuntarily gasped. The KPA soldiers embody evil and menace here, and everyone was on high alert.

When the time came, we entered one of the diplomatic structures, which looked like a small school room. Because the room is bisected, half is on Southern Soil and half is on Northern soil. Thus, I was actually able to enter, briefly, into North Korea. The North Koreans and South Koreans take turns using it for visitors, although sometimes the North Korean soldiers lock it so the Southerners cannot get in. When that happens, the Southerners use and old Soviet-style phone to call the Northern welcome center. If that fails, they send a fax, and if that fails, they bring out a large loudspeaker and broadcast their message. Should they still get no response, they talk to the one UN envoy stationed at Panmunjeom, who gets the North Koreans to re-open the visitor center.

S. Korean visitor center. Taken from the bus, because we were not allowed to stop and take pictures outside.

North Korean visitor center

South Korean soldier standing guard. He did not move a muscle while we were there.

On North Korean soil

ROK soldier standing guard, half-hidden by the diplomatic building.

KPA soldiers. You can see the concrete slab marking the border. A South Korean soldier is on the other side of the border, less than 20 feet away, standing guard.

KPA guard tower on the North Korean side. You can see the guard on the ground.

Bridge of No Return and observation post

After leaving Panmunjeom, we drove to the so-called "Bridge of No Return." When the Korean war ended, the two sides participated in an exchange of prisoners. The U.S., U.N. and South Korean forces returned over 80,000 North Korean and Chinese P.O.W.'s, while the North Korean and Chinese forces returned fewer than 20,000. They were brought to the bridge pictured below, and allowed to cross over to the other side if they wanted to. Once they crossed, however, they could not go back. Thus, the name.

We went from there to another observation point that looks into the North. It was a hazy day and hard to see, but one could make out North Korean observation towers and signs demarcating the border (the signs facing south are in Korean and English, those facing North are in Korean and Chinese). We could also see radio jamming towers; the North Korean government has jamming towers along its border to prevent internet, TV, radio and cell phone communication with the outside world.

Also visible was is the North Korean village of Gijong. There are two villages in the DMZ, Gijong and its South Korean counterpart, Tae-song. Tae-song is inhabited by a few hundred people who either are or are direct descendants of people who lived in the DMZ region before the war. Tae-Song residents live tax free in highly subsidized housing, in exchange for which they submit to a strict curfew (they must be in the village by 9:00 PM, and in home with the lights out by midnight) and the constant threat of aggression from the North.

Gijong is even more unusual, as it's completely uninhabited. The village houses an enormous loudspeaker, apparently the size of a house, that blares propaganda for 6-12 hours a day (hailing South Koreans to defect to the land of the "Golden, Tax-Free Paradise"). It also has an enormous North Korean flag, that is 160 meters high and weighs over 600 pounds. In the haze, it was just possible to make out the flag and the flagpole in the distance.

The Bridge of No Return

North Korean lookout point

Signal jamming tower

In the foreground, below one of the trees, one of the rusted signs marking the border.

The Third Tunnel and Final Thoughts

After lunch in Tae-son, we went to see the so-called Third Infiltration tunnel. Based on intelligence from North Korean defectors, South Korea discovered four tunnels that had been dug from North Korea under the DMZ into South Korea. The third tunnel, which was discovered in 1978, is ascessible by tourists, although photography is prohibited. The tunnel is more than 1000 feet deep, and is about 2 meteres x 2 meters. It's large enough for an equipped soldier to maneuver through comfortably. We moved quickly through it, wearing hard-hats to protect our heads--I was greatful for these the three times my head smacked against the ceiling. Even though the tunnel is dug through granite, the North Koreans painted most of the rock black so that if the tunnel was discovered, they could claim it was an abandoned coal mine. The joke is that the third tunnel brings in such tourist income that they should have told the South Koreans it was a gold mine.

We went to one more observation point after that, but it was too hazy to see anything. So I'll try to sum up, although I'm still processing everything I saw. The DMZ is unlike anything that exists anywhere in the world. I can't think of a place where mortal enemies stand so close to each other with no fraternization whatsoever, every day, all day, for 50 years. The tension is unbelievable. Watching the guards bracing at Panmunjeom, and seeing the incredible suspicion with which they view the North Koreans (a suspicion that has been more than justified in the country's history), is one of the most sobering sights I have ever seen.

At first, I was reluctant to visit the DMZ. It's a great scar on the country--families have been divided for half a century, with parents unable to ever see children or siblings unable to communicate--and I felt awkward about making another country's tragedy my touring experience. I was reminded of how I felt watching all the tourists who came to New York after 9/11 visiting Ground Zero. But I think now I understand the sentiment a little better. Tragically, this is a key part of Korea's history, and a place that influences the world every day. Since I'm here, I wanted to bear witness to it. It was a terribly powerful experience.

In Da Club or Big Night, Long Post

Be warned now, this is a long post. I apologize, as there's really no good way to break it up, so bear with me.

Last night, the firm took all of the interns out for our welcome/farewell party (certain people started this week, others finished up--I have another month here, so it was somewhere in the middle for me). About 40 of us went to a restaurant near the office for Korean-style shabu-shabu. We ate incredible pieces of roasted duck, dipped in a sort of wasabi sauce, and followed that up with shabu-shabu, a rich beef broth with noodles, vegetables and paper-thin slices of beef. Also, we drank. I mean, we drank a lot.

The following is from the Harvard Law Office of Career Services (reproduced here entirely without their permission in sarcastic tone): "Watch your alcohol intake and limit yourself to one or two drinks at an event, depending on your tolerance. Getting drunk or even "buzzed" [what the kids are calling it these days] will impair your judgment and loosen your tounge. If you feel pressure to fit in and drink, order a beer or a glass of wine and nurse it throughout the evening. This is absolutely not the time to take advantage of the open bar."

If you work for a law firm in Korea, you would be best advised to forget this advice immdiately. All 40 of us were instructed to make a brief toast and drink an "atomic bomb" (in the U.S., a Boilermaker--a glass of beer with a shot of whiskey mixed in). Then, we drank another atomic bomb, this time sans toast (they took too much time). Then, we drank another.

Lest you think this was a sort of fraternity hazing, I want to make clear that it's just a cultural difference. While alcohol is a part of legal culture in the U.S. (Thursday afternoon keg parties at HLS ring a bell?), it's a major part of Korean culture too. You bond with your attorneys, mentors etc. by getting drunk, singing songs and having a good time. People senior to you are called your Sonbe and they are supposed to take care of (i.e. pay for the getting-drunk-of) their juniors or hoube. It fosters a great deal of comeraderie. Following Harvard's advice in this case would be a major insult. Of course, given that I found this firm through HLS's website, and given that the Office of Career Services nevertheless had no recollection of having any sort of contact with Korea, to say nothing of particular students who had worked at my firm, I wasn't relying on them as an authority to begin with.

After dinner, we went to a norebang (karaoke) place called Cafe About. In Korea, you sing karaoke in a private room with your group, and not in front of a crowded bar full of strangers. Because we were such a big group, we had a large room with sofa-style seating around two big tables, on which there were many bottles of beer and whiskey (Johnny Walker has made a name for himself in Korea), as well as fruit and some dried fish to snack on (not awful, but too salty for my taste). Let nobody tell you otherwise--folks here can sing! Korean pop was the genre of choice, although we did a fair amount of american rock and rap music (always a good call for those of us with limited vocal range). Songs sung by Art included but were not limited to: "Billie Jean" (again), "In Da Club," "Come Together," "More Than Words" (rock ballads are really popular here) and the ultimate crowd pleaser, "Hot in Herre" (if I had known I would be singing this ahead of time, I would have found a Nelly-style band-aid). And yes, there was more drinking involved.

The weirdest moment at norebang came about an hour and a half into it. We were all rocking out, having a good time, when a bunch of club employees came into our room and told us all that we had to sit down because "the dancers are coming." Somewhat reluctantly, we sat down as an over-excited DJ put on a techno-CD and switched on a strobe light set to "induce epileptic siezure." Two guys bounced into the room and started breakdancing. One even did the robot. This was fine and good until one of the dancers tried to do a handstand on the table where all our booze was and lost his balance, falling forward. He broke several glasses and spilled beer on four of us. His dancing wasn't that good either. Seriously, the robot? The Macarena is more timely.

One other thing about the norebang club. We were there for a few hours, and I went to the men's room twice. The first time I went, there was a man crouching by the urinals, smoking a cigarette and frantically text-messaging on his cell phone. When I went back an hour later, he was still there, in the exact same position, doing the exact same thing. For all I know, he was smoking the same cigarette. Apaprently, this happens all the time.

We endured the dancers for several more minutes until they mercifully left and allowed us to resume enjoying ourselves. Then, a smaller contingent of us made our way to another club, a booking club similar to the one I went to over the weekend (although since we were a mixed group, we did not participate--I politely refused the overtures of one of the bookers who took a liking to me, and the women in our group um, declined to be booked). We had a private room with more food and alcohol and a karaoke machine, and there was a dance floor downstairs. When the DJ played slow songs downstairs, we would hang out in our room and sing (note to all crappy singers: "Play that Funky Music (White Boy)" is an outstanding song if you have no range. In my case, the lyrics were also oddly appropriate). When the beat sped up, we went downstairs to dance.

At one point, the Korean DJ playing techno pop left the stage and two black guys from the States came on, one working the turntables and the other emcee-ing. Frankly, they were awful. The DJ kept messing up his mixes so there was a lot of quiet air, or cutting a beat just as it was reaching a crescendo. The MC was even worse. There's a skit from the first season on Chappelle's Show about a rapper named Fisticuffs. There's footage of him recording a song, preparing to launch into his rhyme, saying things like "turn my headphones up! Okay! Okay!" but he never actually begins rhyming. Our guy was the same way. He basically bounced around and did "hip-hop things" (or more accurately, what he thought Korean people thought of as "hip hop things"), but never actually did much more. Regardless, the crowd ate it up. I don't know how much of it was just the excitement of being in the club and how much of it was, frankly, excitement over seeing two black men performing rap (a rare sight in Korea), but they were a huge success. So, if you're reading this, and you're black and own a football jersey and a microphone, and you want to make some money, you've got a business opportunity in Seoul.

Anyway, we danced until about 2:30 in the morning before heading home. Definitely a memorable night in Seoul.

Yo shawty, it's ya birthday...

Sharing an atomic bomb.