asia2you: Thursday, February 10

Korea

Tuesday, February 1st

No sneaking into business class on this flight; nope, I was bumped up there this time. Don’t ask me how, but I think it has to do with the fact that the flight was overbooked. I was pretty surprised to see that an enormous seat matched the number on my ticket stub. I wish this sort of thing happened more often on the 10 or 16 hour flights I take instead of just the 1 hour ones. But, bumpers can’t be choosers, so I’m happy for what I get when it comes along.

Korea's coast line and islands are beautiful on the approach to Incheon. A lot of the skinnier inlets and island groups are frozen over, but the sea folds its way around and powers through the gaps large enough to get through; making a maze of ice, water and waves.

At the airport I get first class service from the tourist info desk. As an unstructured traveler, of course I don’t have a reservation at a hostel yet nor a clue as to what I should do or how to ask (I left my Korean phrase book back home at my apartment: smart). But, like the amazing place this is turning out to be, they were ready with a collection of things going on this month, low cost accommodation choices, a small guide to useful phrases, and assistance booking my bus ride into Seoul, which is just over an hour away; all this from a tiny lady with a big smile at an out-of-the-way kiosk in an giant airport.

My hostel is called the DaeWon Guest House. It is unique. The entrance is a short way down a super skinny pedestrian alley filled with cheap eateries and bars. Creaking the old wooden door open I found myself in a covered courtyard filled with all kinds of plants and flowers. It’s so lush I can’t even find the office to make a booking. Wandering around a bit I find the community table in the back with a couple of Japanese travelers comparing notes on restaurants and the relative spiciness of different dishes. I’m warned that Koreans “like it hot hot.” They direct me to the opposite corner to find the manager. Startled by my unusual route to the office (which was right around the corner from the front door… Duh!), he shows me the room he has set aside for me and explained that the tiny lady at the airport called ahead for me. Gosh, I love her. The rate is 15,000 Won (US$15.00) per night, and I book for two nights. I’m currently scheduled to leave Korea on my way to Japan on this coming Tuesday afternoon. If I only spend two nights in Seoul up front, I think that might give me enough time to travel to the Eastern coast of Korea for a few days and spend some time seeing the Korean countryside too. And, if she’s back from China and I get an e-mail out quick enough, I might even be able to meet up with Kum-nan (who I met in China). She said that she lives in a small village on a beach out East.

For now though, I’m hungry and think I want to try some of that Korean hot hot. I decide to consult the Japanese guys, Kuroke (pronounced Koo-roh-kay) who is often called Kareoke (Kar-rey-o-kee) by Westerners (I can’t imagine why) and Re (Ray), who’s been here studying Korean at the university for about 4 months. We talk a bit and I take a few minutes to flip through Kuroke’s very detailed Japanese guide book to Korea, which is complete with pictures and short descriptions of almost every Korean dish. I choose to go and get some “mandu.” These are very much like Chinese dumplings and can be prepared and served in a number of ways, from frying or boiling, and then ending up in a soup or salad. Re explains that mandu can really only be found at a particular types of place called a “Bunsikchom (Boon-sheek-chom),” which only serves mandu. Armed with the necessary phrases: “mandu issoyo?” (Do you have mandu?) and “mas-issoyo” (Gee these are delicious), I go out to find some.

It’s dark now and the alleys are all lit up like a neon Christmas tree on crack. I can’t understand any of the signs except for the occasional “coffee” and “bar” written at the bottom of some of them. My mandu mission might be more difficult than originally planned. Popping my head in to about a dozen or more small restaurants asking, “mandu issoyo?”, I wasn’t prepared when many blocks from my hostel, in the basement arcade of an office complex, I found a proprietor that didn’t rattle off apologetic sounding words and wave their arms up in “no-no-no” fashion. I had gotten so used to this “open door, ask question, receive no, leave politely” system that I had forgotten I actually wanted to find mandu and eat it. But although I didn’t receive a no, I wasn’t sure that I had received a yes either. Stuck in a loop, I don’t complete the final “leave politely” step and just stood in the door way.

In this short break I notice that this restaurant is quite cute. There are only a few tables with about 3 customers: two-business men in ties at one table and at a table right next the door sat a young girl nearly hiding her face in her bowl. On the side there are two women behind a small counter with a stove, refrigerator and tiny food prep area. This is not a high tech operation. The few customers in the restaurant slowly turn their heads towards me as one of the ladies behind the counter probes me with an additional Korean question. I guess I had stood there longer than I thought. I reply with: “mandu issoyo?” With an irritated look from her I realize that I’ve inadvertently taken us back to square one. I guess I thought that once I found a place that had mandu, everything else would just fall into place. Needing to reply with something other than “Do you have mandu?” and knowing that my other phrase, “Gee, that’s delicious,” is way to pre-mature, I look for the small sheet I got at the airport that contains phrases like: “thank you” and “I’m sorry.” Surely one these could help me manage a little mandu order. As I begin sifting through the many pieces of paper in my breast pocket, one of the business men shuffles his chair around a bit and says, “She only has mandu soup, is that to your liking?” Now we’re talking, this guy is certainly much better than the sheet in my pocket.

While I was enjoying my mandu soup and tasty side dishes (which come with nearly every Korean meal), the business men get up, introduced themselves, and old me that they will be in the bar right next door enjoying some drinks and would be happy to buy me a beer if I stop by when I’m finished. I thank them again for their help and happily accept their invitation.

Only slightly larger than a storage locker, the bar is a “U” shape with 3 or 4 bar stools on each side. There is a pretty but nonchalant lady trapped in the center who needlessly gestures me towards the only open seat. In what could have only been 5 or 10 minutes, Park, the shipping guy, and Lee, the accounts manager, have already finished 5 shots of whisky and 6 beers between them. I may have walked into more than I bargained for.

During our conversation, mainly about politics and travel, it becomes clear that Park’s English is much better than Lee’s. At some point early on Lee feels the need to justify his sub-par English skills. He explains that he only just started to learn English again (the first time since middle school) because the Korean bank he worked for (First Korean National) was recently bought by an American one (Citibank). To help his buddy out, Park notes that he has used English for many years because in his type of shipping (the big hollow ships that carry raw ore and coal, not the new container ships) they work a lot with Australians who are large exporters of raw iron ore. With a kind of a reminiscent look, he laments the fact that America is no longer a major player in this kind of shipping, and now there is just a small operation in Alaska that exports coal and ore to China using these kinds of ships. Being the policy dork I am, I explain to them that as of now, Alaska is mostly protected from this kind of activity, but through Bush and the Republican Congress it is more likely than ever that in the next year or two Alaska will be opened up for major oil and ore extraction. Park’s not-so-subtle condescension of our President, evident in our international relations conversation, suddenly turns into a toast to Alaska’s (and his shipping company’s) exciting new future. Chalk up another one for ol’ W. I finish my one Cass (the most popular Korean beer), politely decline their offer of nearly a quarter regular glass full of whiskey, thank them so much for their help, (help them find their chairs after they stumble up to say goodbye) and head back to the guest house.

DaeWon is quiet, but Kuroke is up reading. He invites me to join him, the other Japanese travelers, and his Korean friend for a dinner outing tomorrow night. The invitation was gladly accepted and I head to bed. Gosh, I love traveling.

Wednesday, February 2nd

That song, “You are the sunshine of my live, the apple of my eye,” has played more times than I can count while sitting here in Starbucks. It seems interspersed only by two other songs, “You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you,” and “Mambo number 5.” I need to get out of here. Like an angel disguised as a young inquisitive Korean girl, Miae (Mee-ay – which means “beautiful love” in Korean) comes over to my table and starts up a conversation. Her English is the best I’ve heard from a foreigner since I started traveling, and it makes sense after she explains that she majored in English and just got finished studying in America for the past year. She’s really happy to meet me because she got back from the US about a week ago and hasn’t had a chance to speak English since then except for a couple of times on the phone with her friends. I, of course, am so happy to meet her because she’s cool and excited to introduce herself and her culture to me. She say’s she 22, but is actually 20. Hmmm. This is where I get a lesson in Korean ages. Your birthday begins when you are conceived and then you turn one year old every January 1st. Everyone in the country gets one year older on the 1st of a new year. That’s a big birthday party. So, generally speaking, this means that a person’s Korean age is one to two years higher than their Western age.

We hang out for a bit and I invite her to come to dinner with the Japanese kids and their Korean buddy. At dinner, Miae helps me understand more about Korean culture and explains that food is quite central to how they relate to each other. Everything is prepared together, brought to the table at the same time and each dish is shared together with more than enough for everyone to eat. Cool.

Speaking of eating habits among cultures, she tells me a few cute stories about cultural mishaps in America. When she went to lunch with a friend she just met at the university they each got soup, and after a taste of her own soup Miae reaches over the table and dips her spoon into her class mates bowl, stirs it up a bit, and takes a few sips. Awkward. Or, even better, some of friends would ask her, “do you feel me?” (which means, "do you understand/agree with me?") and she didn’t know if it was an invitation or accusation, but either way, she did know she wasn’t into the “feeling” up of her new friends and classmates. Funny. And, oh boy, did I feel her. How often had I run into similarly uncomfortable moments or misunderstood phrases in places like Russia or Thailand. Oh the funny things language learners learn along the way.

Thursday, February 3rd

I get finished posting up my stuff from China on the blog and Miae meets me around noon-ish. We spend the day together wandering around, chatting, and then go to meet a friend of hers to watch a Korean movie. Her friend doesn’t come. As neither Miae nor her friend has a cell phone, I use my Korean (which Miae describes as "cute") and we borrow a random movie patron’s phone to call her friend’s house. Miae finds out that her friend got some big interview that popped up. We hope she does well.

Well, with no plans I suggest that we go to Itaewon, the clubbing and gay area of Seoul. She looks frightened. I know that in Asia the concept of being gay, or gay rights are not talked about much and tend to be pretty taboo, but Korea and Japan are supposed to be much more open and supportive than say China or Malaysia. Not so, I guess.

She says that she’s never been to Itaewon and that she’s only heard bad things about it. These things include all of the standard irrational fears of “red-light districts” like murders, pick pockets, and decrepit street people, but her fears add the new twist of aggressive lesbian abductors, and gay slave traders. This is some kind of Clockwork Orange meets “Just Jack!” Not too harshly I imply that perhaps some of this was told to her to scare her or is years of high school exaggerations grown out of all proportion. I tell her that although she doesn’t know it, “gay people” are much less “gay” than they are simply “people,” just like her and her friends. I ensure her that no one in Itaewon will attempt to abduct her or trade her into lesbian slavery. She’s not convinced. She reminds me that she had made some close gay friends in America and they are wonderful people, but now we’re talking about Korea, and things are different here. I’m not convinced.

Exiting Itaewon station she stays pretty close. It begins to look undeniably like any other tourist destination in Seoul: street vendors, neon signs, business people, travelers, and dokboki (dock-bohk-ee), traditional Korean food stands. We get some dokboki. We didn’t do very good research so we don’t find any of the gay places we thought we would, but now she’s on a mission to really find out what this is all about. She begins asking the local street vendors where we can find them and, like she expected, gets some quite disapproving looks coupled with a “there are no places like this” response. One man points to a very seedy motel and suggests that she try “working” there. All this for making some simple inquiries like, “where can we find this gay café.” The culture becomes clearer and I understand better where she has gotten this negative view from. I begin to feel very sad for the gay people that must live in this city.

Miae is now heading up this expedition. We get back to a different area of the city she’s familiar with and go to a place with internet access. She does some research in Korean this time. (Novel idea, looking for places in Korea with a Korean search engine.) There are many more leads this time and, not surprisingly, there are lots of areas around the city where gay people gather. One of them is centered around the park just across the street. As though she’s looked around this area for the first time, with a new pair of eyes this 22 year old begins to see her first gay Koreans. Lo and behold, they were here the whole time and only an hour ago she would have honestly believed that gay Koreans didn’t exist.

Over the next few hours we pop our heads into a mix of gay dance clubs, gay karaoke lounges, and gay cafés, discovering a whole new Seoul. We meet some cool people who have also studied in America or Europe and love the chance to practice their English. Miae remarks on how good looking all these men are and wonders where they’ve all been. I suggest that maybe they’ve gotten really good at hiding due to those infamous aggressive lesbian slave traders. She doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do.

Miae is going camping in the countryside over Friday and Saturday with some of her friends who have leave from their military service. But, she makes plans with me to go dancing on Saturday night. We’re told to arrive early to wherever we’re going because this Saturday is the weekend before the Chinese New Years celebrations next week, the most popular time in Korea. Should be fun, I’ll be sure to wear my New Year’s best.

It’s late, so we head out. On the way to the bus and during the ride she talks about how funny it is that people can be so afraid of things they don’t understand or choose not to know, When my stop comes around, she ends her thoughts with “you feel me?” Definitely.

Friday, February 4th

I had gotten so used to hanging out with Miae over the last couple days that it’s hard to believe I’m back at the “mandu issoyo” stage of my Korean travels. I got up too late to catch the tour of the DMZ (the Demilitarized zone) between North and South Korea, so I’ll have to see those land mines on Sunday or Monday I guess. (Time is sure flying by!)

I get along fine though. I stop by the Kyobo, a really big book store with a sizable foreign section. There I find the exact Lonely Planet Korean phrasebook that I left in America and Thomas Friedman’s “From Beirut to Jerusalem.” Both in hand I’m now prepared for a labored Korean discussion on the Middle East, or perhaps just some time to read by myself before I go to bed.

Saturday, February 5th

Miae is not up for dancing afterall. No worries. So, I went online today for the first time to find some people that might want to go out dancing with me. Simon, a Chinese guy who is also visiting Seoul, works a lot in the US, Japan and Korea. He’s about my age and has a dry sense of humor you don’t find with Chinese people very often. He’s staying at a fancier hotel in Itaewan and told me that one of the big traditional Korean saunas is very near where he is staying and invites me to go along. Now, asking someone if they want to go dancing and receiving a counter invitation to the sauna is disconcerting. It doesn’t help either if the conversation is happening over the internet. However, I was told by Miae and others that I need to go to one of these places before I leave Korea. I don’t have much more time here, but still, in this case, I’m just not sure. He finds my concerns amusing, makes some funny comments and assures me that it’s a family place. Ok, I agree.

Surprisingly, the place is huge, not some out of the way shack. It holds a prominent spot on a hill right by the main road. We go inside the lobby and there are lots of people (of all ages) hanging around. The cost was more than I was expecting too: 10,000Won (US$10.00). Before I could mention it, Simon had already paid for both of us, gives me my pair of “sauna clothes,” which are a loose pair of pants and a matching shirt, and then begins the tour.

The first stop is the locker room. You get undressed head to the shower (everyone must wash before they can enter the sauna) and then enter a large room with half a dozen hot tubs. Tub sizes range from 6 people to the one in the center which could probably seat 60 around the edges and many more in the middle if they needed too. Each tub is at a different temperature which is displayed on a digital read out next to each of them. In the back is a raised cold pool. You jump in to cool down and then enter one of the two steam/heat rooms on either side. One room is just your basic heat room with a stove in the center and the wood walls and seats; the other is the same but also has traditional Chinese herbs hanging on the walls. The “medicine room,” as it’s called, is where Simon spends a lot of his time. I like it for a while, but if I stay in there more than a few minutes at a time, I feel like I’m about to turn into a ginseng root. But above all, it’s a very modern facility, all tiled and super clean.

We stay in the spa area for about 2 hours and then we go upstairs in our tacky but comfy spa wear. Up here everyone is wearing the same thing, men in white and women in a salmon color. There are a lot of kids running around too. They’re going in and out of about 6 different theme rooms that have TVs and relaxing couches in them. We visit most of them and enjoy watching the kids play around much more than the Hollywood movies dubbed in Korean. My favorite of these was the “charcoal” room, where all of the air is sent through charcoal filters and is supposed to cleanse and heal your lungs. I start to realize that these places are like Korean Disneyland without the cheesy gimmicks or big rides, just plain ol’ Korean family fun.

Down the hall a bit is a large restaurant where groups are having some Korean food and singing drinking songs. And up one more level (you choose either the male or female staircase) are the sleeping quarters. Here there are rows of cubicles that you can sleep in for however long you like. It’s quiet and these are certainly the coziest looking cubicles I’ve seen. Airlines would be smart to take out their seats and just do these.

Before we realized it, it was after 12am. Simon has to fly out to New York in the morning so I thank him for introducing me to Korean sauna culture and then wander a few blocks over to the clubbing area (It’s common knowledge in this area that if you just follow the loud and obnoxious US military guys, you’ll get to the clubs before you know it.)

I wandered in and out of a few places collecting friends along the way and then we were able to collectively negotiate our cover charges down each time we found a new place. Damian, from Pennsylvania, and his friend Lisa, from Melbourne, were two of the first people I met. After all the clubs closed at about 4:30am and I was waiting for the subway to open at 6am, the three of us chatted for a while. Damian was preoccupied with the troubles of a Russian guy he met earlier in the evening that, through a mix of broken English and Korean, confided in Damian that he was in a state of indentured servitude to one of the local club owners. The Russian guy, Stas, called a few times, not very sober of course, and eventually Damian handed me the phone to explain to Stas that he needed to speak English, not Russian. I hadn’t spoken Russian to a Russian in over a year and a half. It took a few minutes for him to get it (or me to say it right), but eventually he understood where we were and how to get there. I figured that we would have to get him to start speaking English once he got there.

Once at our place, he explains his situation. Apparently he was flown to Seoul with the promise of a working visa and good job, but when he got here the bar owner explained that Stas needed to work there for a while first while he arranged for a better job for him. That was two years ago and he’s still doing menial labor for this guy. He was told though by the owner (and others I think) that if he tried to go home he would be stopped at the airport and fined and possibly imprisoned because his original visa expired long ago and he’s now an illegal. I suggest that the whole “fine and prison” thing is extreme for someone in his shoes. Countries will usually let you out, but may not let you come back, or make you pay a fine for “overstaying” your previous visa before you can re-enter. I explained that I overstayed my Russian visa for a few days and they didn’t send me to Siberia when I went to cross the border into Estonia. This makes him happy, if Russia won’t send you to the Gulag (or make you pay a “fine” directly to the police officer) then surely Korea won’t. Sitting in the subway I’m a little sad though, because I realize that it’s quite likely that he won’t remember any of this in the morning. Good luck Stas.

I grabbed a “special burger” from a street vendor shortly before boarding the subway and decide that what I need is some good ol’ fashioned kareoke. What can I say; this was the sleep deprivation talking. I get off one stop earlier than my guest house and walk to Wallpaper, a quite fancy karaoke bar that Miae and I found the other day. Nevin, the 23 year old tri-lingual Sino-Korean, and David, the 20 year old studying English (surprise!), work here from 8 in the evening to about 9 in the morning. The place is still half full at 6:30am.

Getting ready to impress, I sing the only song I can really sing, “Santa Clause is Coming to Town.” Throughout the evening, “SCiCtT” pops up a couple of times interspersed with an “American Life” by Madonna, “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid and “We Are the World” by Michael. I think though that I complained a bit too much when I discovered that they didn’t have “Forever in Blue Jeans” by Neil Diamond. Quite different from the US, there was some really good songs and singing from the Koreans. If it were a competition, the judges would have a difficult time deciding between the Koreans and I would have been laughed out before I came in. The Asians take their kareoke seriously.

Back at the guest house at around 11am, I hum Neil Diamond in my head, and go bed.

Sunday, February 6th

Today was just one of those lost days. I got up at 5:45pm. Miae and I met a short bit later but neither of us wanted to do anything other than sleep. We make a plan to meet tomorrow at ten o’clock at the bus stop across the street. She is going to take me somewhere in the countryside, but the actual location will be a surprise. Neat! I go home and talk with some people at DaeWon, read some more of my book, and go back to bed around 10pm.

Monday, February 7th

After a quick hazelnut latte (I’m having more of these in Asia than I do in America!) I walk over to the bus stop and meet up with Miae. We travel to the train station where it is super busy. Lot’s of people heading home to the countryside for the New Year. A nice Korea Post representative is handing out some traditional Chinese New Years snacks to people waiting in line. Miae and I snag ours and enjoy the crispy rice fluffy things and thick honey gooey things. I don’t know what they’re called, but they’re tasty. I save a few for later.

The train ride will be just over an hour, but as the train leaves in 12 minutes, we are buying our tickets too late to be able to get a seat. So, instead, we get standing tickets. An hour standing on a train can only be fun if you are laughing and chatting with Miae. But, we’re lucky and a couple doesn’t show up for their reserved seats, so a few minutes into the train ride we sit down and enjoy the Korean countryside.

Once in the small town we have to get some bus tickets and head up the mountain to the temple. I discover then that we’re going to a temple centered around a very very old tree, I can’t remember how many hundred of years exactly, but it’s a lot. The bus drops us off at the base of the path to the temple where there are a few neat little restaurants. Miae explains that these places are well known for their “bi-bim-bab” (bee-beem-bahb), a Korean meal made up of rice with lots of different kinds of vegetables in different sauces served in a bowl with a fried egg on top. The 1 hour walk along the mountain side up to the temple is very relaxing. We get their and not too many people are around, just a few couples and a family or two. Miae explains that this place is normally packed, but because of the New Year, everyone is traveling to be with their families. Like the river flowing down the mountain and the plants on its banks, the temple grounds are misty and cool. The tree is stark and huge. In the fall this tree and the surrounding foliage turns a bright yellow. Many drawings and shapes reflect the colors and shapes of the leaves. There is a small pool where you can toss in a coin and try to get it in the center cup at the bottom. If you make it in, the legend says that your wish will come true. My coin doesn’t make the center. Damn, no free accommodation in Tokyo for me. We have a wonderful orange tea in the small tea house run by the monks here. It’s not cheap, but resting in this unique building, heated by a round fire place and filled with huge wooden tables and stools, is worth every Won.

Back to the small group of restaurants at the bottom we have our bi-bim-bab and make the bus back to the village with the train station. Back in Seoul Miae and I hook up with her best friend whose boyfriend is on break from his military service. In NamDaeMun they’ve found some big bar where you hit a button at your table which flashes your table number up on the wall with a little *bing* and someone rushes right over to bring you your next two bottles of SoJu. By the time we get there, they (and the rest of the bar) are all very tipsy. The Korean pastime is surely drinking, but especially drinking SoJu. SoJu is to Koreans what vodka is to the Russians.

Our table, with about 7 people is a bit of a scene already. Most of the time if a Korean doesn’t speak English well, they won’t speak any at all, content not to make a mistake or look stupid in front of their friends when they mix up their grammar or say “bye” instead of “hi” or something. But when they’re drunk and an American sits down at the table, their English is full speed ahead. One of the members of the table just said “WOW” over and over and louder and louder until those next to him shouted him down in Korean. Another asked me where I was from many more times than necessary. I thought I wasn’t being clear, or perhaps “Denver,” “Colorado,” “America,” and the like were not specific enough, but he never seemed quite satisfied. Miae just gave me the look which roughly translates to, “He really doesn’t know much English and “where are you from?” is all that’s up there right now and he probably doesn’t even remember what it means anymore and he certainly won’t understand anything you say in return unless it “New York Yankees” or “Michael Jordan.” Understood. So I started answering his question with, “Your Aunt’s house, I’m your cousin,” or “Geedle Beedle Haangerflube.” This was much more fun.

Upon leaving there, Miae and I got on a bus and headed towards our houses. She got off on my stop and we said our goodbyes before she boarded her bus home. Bye Miae. And tomorrow I’ll be saying bye to Korea too. My flight lands in Tokyo in the evening, but I need to be at the airport early to make sure my ticket is all squared away. Maybe I’ll have time for one more dokboki in Jong-Lo before I go. I hope so.