One Thing After Another

A day at the Korean Folk Village should enliven the senses and provide its guests with an appreciation of the past.  My day at the village left me with soggy shoes, and a week-long cold. After hopping on the bus in Ansan and heading toward Suwon,  my co-workers and I snuggled against our seats for an undetermined amount of time.  A cold front had settled in the city bringing with it the unmistakable winter sky - muted gray nothingness that starts and ends in the same unknown place.  With combined navigational skills - and a stroke of luck - we switched buses at exactly the right time and ended up in the Folk Village parking lot.  

The entrance gates set the stage for what would typically be a step back in time. Cashiers and greeters were dressed in ancient, traditional garb, and the view of meandering dirt pathways tickled each guest's curiosity to enter.  Caught up in the moment, we splurged for the mid-level ticket price in order to gain access to the folk museum, and then passed through the magical gates to another time. Antiquated buildings stood out brilliantly against the backdrop of autumn leaves, as if arranged by a setting designer.  The perfect, fall foliage and brisk air sent a wave of nostalgia through my body and I remembered the familiar feeling - this was October. Bright colors, chilly winds, and the smell of wet wood were dancing all around us.  I was allowed five minutes to breathe in the realization of where I was before the screams of children bulldozed the imagery and jerked me back to reality.  Groups of elementary students were running at full-speed toward us, the foreigners, as if we were the final object on the list in a scavenger hunt.  Confused and frozen, we were verbally attacked with questions from pairs of Korean kids holding their scripts.  I barely understood every other broken, English word that left their fast-moving mouths, but concluded they were instructed to summarize a fact about the village in return for points.  I awarded them each 100 points, and turned to meet the rest of my bombarded friends.  Once finally together again, we strolled along the path past huts with grass roofs and thatched walls.  We took in the serenity and beauty of the korean history and admired its pottery house, vegetable gardens, and unusual livestock.  And then we were under attack again.  Before long, our day at the folk village became a game of escape.  Children would see us from a distance - somehow way before we ever saw them - and cry out, "excuse me, excuse me".  We began splitting up, weaving around the buildings, and ducking into museums for cover.  

At the exact time our frustration levels reached boiling point and our tolerance for young minds became questionable - it started to rain.  Cold, wet, "I can see my breath now"- rain. The rest of our day was literally a wash, and we slopped through the now muddy pathways to find shelter and sustenance from the village's restaurant.  Too bad luck was not on our side because for reasons still unknown by us, we were shooed out of the warm dining hall, where other people were happily eating, by a grumpy Korean lady dressed in period attire. With confusion and boiling annoyance, we found another restaurant and sat down to an unsatisfying meal.   After dining, a unanimous vote convinced us to skip the museum we paid extra for in exchange for heading home to our warm, dry apartments.  As we exited the folk village to dryer skies a greeter asked us what impressed us most about our day - anticipating, I'm sure, an intellectual response on the history of Korean pottery, resourcefulness of the long-ago villagers, or quality of the traditional dishes.  Feeling defeated, tired, and cold Andrea replied for the group.  "The trees were really beautiful."  

Lavon and Derrick couldn't even take a picture without the children chasing after them.

Once we finally exited the village it was time to catch bus #37 back home.  We arrived that day with luck on our side (transferring buses can be VERY confusing), and felt hopeful as #37 pulled up to the stop at the exact moment we walked up.  The driver opened the door, watched as all of his passengers exited, and then quickly closed the door before we could get onboard. Completely appalled and insulted we shouted and waved our hands furiously, but he pulled away and parked in the lot.  Hopping out of the bus, the driver ran inside the gift shop as we stood in astonishment.      

While we stood in the cold, waiting to see if the bus driver would return, a second #37 bus pulled into the lot.  We figured this must be our bus since the other one was clearly "off duty." Once again, bus 37 bypassed our group and parked.  The second driver mimicked the first and ran into the gift shop.  Ten minutes later, as flu-like symptoms began developing in the voids of our body left empty by broken spirits, the drivers returned and picked us up.  We were finally going home.

1 Word, 3 Syllables. Sounds Like...

Living and teaching in another country is like an endless game of Pictionary and charades.  In class, I cling to the whiteboard in hopes of getting my ideas across.  Explaining the conflict between the British and the colonists to a handful of Korean sixth graders can only be done through a series of quick sketches.  Unfortunately, my stick figure of George Washington bears little resemblance to the actual father of our country.  The tea boats from the Boston Massacre look like nothing more than a child's paper sailboat in the sink. Amused at my efforts, the students turn their glazed-over eyes in my direction and pretend to understand the events of America's history.  

Out in the streets, and without a whiteboard I must rely on my natural talents. Charades was always a game I enjoyed playing as a child, and the practice is finally paying off.  Fingers turn into numbers when ordering food, and hand gestures aid in the request for small, medium, or large.  Ordering one mini ice cream from Baskin' Robbins takes an extra 20 seconds with the addition of my gesturing, but the outcome is always delicious.  One evening, Andrea and I went to a store in search of an alarm clock.  Unsure of how to translate our request verbally, I whipped out my hands.  While pointing to my watch, and then miming a small box the saleswoman shook her head and furrowed her brow.  I was determined to make her understand so I repeated the process and added a "beep, beep, beep."  She smiled and a wave of understanding washed across her face.  Success.

At the end of my year abroad I may not know much Korean, but I'll be able to gesture my way across the world.     

Lions and Tigers and Bears...

I love animals - always have.  As a child I had a collection of Zoobooks magazines, which I studied from cover to cover.  I was fascinated by the bones and musculature of the humpback whale, and found the predatory quirks of the great cats fascinating.  This interest has carried into my adult life, and I find myself tuning into the National Geographic channel every chance I get (unfortunately, NatGeo is unavailable in Korea, but the Discovery channel has mitigated my craving for the time being).  

The next best thing to watching an animal on TV, or reading about it in a magazine is to see one in real life.  I understand people have varying opinions on zoos, and I, like many, would love to see animal's in their natural habitats rather than in pens or lame imitations of "the wild". However, I believe in zoos, and their ability to educate the public and infuse people with a healthy-dose of responsibility for wildlife.  It worked for me, and maybe one day I will get a chance to put my seemingly useless animal trivia to use.  Perhaps I will be stranded in the African bush, and will only survive because I knew to stay away from hippos despite their vegetarian diet (they kill more people than any other animals in Africa combined).  Or, maybe when I decide to swim in the shark-infested waters off the tip of South Africa, I will know to wait until late morning or early afternoon when the Great white sharks have stopped hunting (their prime ambush time is within the first two hours after sunrise when they can remain invisible under the water's shadowy surface).  Most likely, I will only be able to use my animal knowledge while strolling along the seemingly safe paths at a zoo.

Two days after the infamous hiking trip, my legs were still rigid and sore, and I waddled off the subway to the entrance of the Seoul Grand Park like a pregnant woman with swollen limbs. The brilliant trees lining the path to the zoo's entrance looked all too familiar, and when we reached a "You Are Here" sign we understood why - the zoo is built into the side of the same mountain we were still recovering from.  Luckily, the zoo does not consider itself an extreme sport destination, but provides the option of lifts to carry its visitors to various points of interest. We decided to take the lift to the top of the zoo, and would then walk back down slowly, without rush.  As I sat on the lift and let the slow breeze blow through my hair, I decided this was our best idea yet.  

The normal rules of a zoo, though probably in place, are not followed by Koreans.  If the standard "Do not feed the animals" signs existed, people were clearly ignoring them.  After watching the large, brown bears for a moment I noticed their unusual, almost human-like behavior.  One would sit down like an old man in his favorite recliner after Thanksgiving dinner while the others danced around on their hind legs like little leaguers anticipating a pop fly in the outfield.  The squeals and applause from the crowd turned into rewards as they threw pieces of fruit, cookies, and potato chips into the enclosure.  I looked around in disbelief while the feeding frenzy continued, and almost doubled over in laughter when I saw an emergency phone marked, "SOS", directly in front of the cuddly teddies.  Perhaps people here should have a greater regard for human safety before they decide to teach a bear how to cross a dangerously, small moat in an exhibit - all in the name of an imitation Oreo. The other animals were just as alert running around their enclosures, and interacting with the human vending machines.  Any animal that wasn't behind glass had an opportunity for a mid-afternoon snack, and from the looks of things - this wasn't their first encounter with gluttony. 

Although the facilities appeared outdated, and some times dangerous, the zoo holds boasting rights for its exquisite scenery, and picturesque landscape.  It was, hands-down, the most beautiful zoo I have ever waddled through.   

Lavon and Derrick

This makes me feel a little uncomfortable.

Nutria... or albino sewer rats

Me:  "Lavon, tell me if he gets too close to my hair."

Lavon:  "Okay... Oh!  He's right there!  Step away!"

Professional mountain climbers

Kwan-Ak Mountain

Our last day off before Christmas was on Thursday.  In the spirit of bonding, Mr. Kim (my boss) planned a hiking trip to Kwan-Ak Mountain for anyone interested.  All of the American/Canadian teachers signed up eager for some fresh air and unaware of the intensity level of our hike.  We were joined by Mr. Kim and one other Korean teacher, Susie.  It seemed suspicious that all of the other Korean teachers were "busy" that day and unable to attend.  

Waking earlier than usual, we met at the subway station at 9am and headed to Gwacheon - a 30 minute ride.  The subway train was littered with people dressed from head to toe in hiking gear.  The amount of North Face products people own is impressive, and often seems unnecessary.  Especially on the weekends, it is common to see hoards of Koreans lugging their backpacks and hiking poles onto the trains while sporting boots, visors, vests, and gloves. More than once I've wondered if all the gear is necessary or simply a fashion statement in the making.

Once to the base of the mountain we located our point on the map.  "We'll go up here and come down here.  Five hours.  Two up and two down plus one for rest and lunch," said Mr. Kim. We all stood motionless with mouths hanging to the ground.  Five hours up the side of a mountain? It was too late to turn back and Mr. Kim was ready to go so we pulled ourselves up off the ground and started walking.  

      

      

As fall continues to move into Korea the leaves are beginning to change.  Green is giving way to bright shades of red, yellow, and pumpkin orange.  The view of the changing trees as we made our way up the mountain was breathtaking and picture-perfect.  It was so beautiful I almost forgot how high we were climbing and barely realized Mr. Kim was quickly blazing a trail of his own.  It didn't take long for me to realize that the hiking gear commonly carried by Koreans is necessary - not just superfluous.  While talking to Susie, I also learned that Korea's landscape is 70% mountainous, which makes it the most mountainous country per square foot in the world. Obviously, this makes hiking Korea's number one recreational activity and probably puts Koreans, in my opinion, at the top of the list for the fastest and most agile humans on a mountainside. Second only to mountain goats. 

     

Finally at the top!!!

While making our way back down the mountaintop we came upon a Buddhist temple.  Since arriving in Korea, I have been longing to see something "old" and a temple was just the thing to quench my desire.  Before actually seeing the temple - I could hear it.  Low chanting and the vibrations of bells filled the air. Rounding the corner brought colorful lanterns into view; each one blowing in the cool breeze.  The ruffle of prayer cards attached to the lanterns and the hum of murmured prayers were the only sounds on the temple grounds.  Set high in the mountainside, the temple was every bit as majestic as a picture on a postcard.

      

      

Climbing down the mountain was just as difficult as climbing up, and my knees were protesting the day's activity.  Once to the base (six hours after we started) it was clear that we were all in need of refreshments so Mr. Kim took us on a wild goose chase in search of a "hof."  His favorite beer garden was closed for the day so we settled on a delicious dinner of smoked pork - Korean style - and toasted several times to good food, great co-workers, and survival. Thanks to kimchi and extreme hiking - I'm one more step closer to becoming Korean.      

The steep walk down.

We climbed to the top of that?!

A Walk in the Park

Sunday was a beautiful day so Andrea and I decided to check out a park near our apartment in Ansan - Hwarang Park. We initially planned on renting bicycles for the day, but the language barrier proved to be too difficult so we settled on walking around.  The beautiful grounds were littered with families playing badminton, flying kites, and lounging in the grass.  The sun was warm despite the crisp, cool air and everyone was in good spirits.  While we watched people rollerblade around the skating rink, our attention was drawn to a large crowd off in the distance.  Peals of laughter and chanting could be heard above the voice of an announcer on a loud-speaker.  

We followed the sounds, and eventually the smells, to find a tournament in progress.  I've since forgotten the name of the traditional Korean game, but it combines aspects of soccer, tennis, and volleyball.  Using an outdoor volleyball court with a low tennis net, players on each team must bump, set, and spike a soccer ball over the net using only their feet.  There are three players on each team and points are scored similarly to those in a volleyball game.  After relaxing under a tree and taking in the excitement for several minutes, a man approached with 2 cans of beer and waved us over to his picnic. English was not one of his languages, but we awkwardly accepted and joined the group. Immediately after sitting down we were bombarded with food. Koreans don't pack sandwiches for a picnic; they bring kimchi, rice, dumplings, and various soups.  We shared in the feast and then excused ourselves to continue exploring the park. 

Outdoor roller skating rinks are everywhere.  

Excited men cheering on their friends during the tournament.  Either they were cheerleaders at one time, or the Soju (Korea's vodka) was doing most of the chanting!

Enjoying a picnic with some of our new friends!

From left to right and back to front:  Shrimp soup, kimchi, mystery meat, Korean grapes, vegetable soup, and rice

The Gyeonggi-do Modern Art Museum is also located on the park grounds and is free to the public.  Strolling through the museum brought back memories of our trip to Europe after college, and we felt right at home despite the oddities within the collection.  The sculptures surrounding the building provided loads of entertainment and posed, without complaining, for many photos.    

The flowers look small....

but they're actually quite large!

A priceless piece of sculpture?  We hope not.  People were playing baseball within very close proximity, and even bounced the ball off the sculpture at one point.

Hook 'em Horns!

One of the best parts of the park - randomly placed "exercise" equipment.  Although taken seriously by Koreans (children and adults), the machines do nothing for the body except lift your spirits.

Located outside of the park, these sculptures probably ward off evil spirits... or portray them.