Monday, May 31, 2010

The Korea Chronicles, Volume VIII

[Disclaimer: I apologize for the length of this post]

Greetings loyal and most magnanimous readers!

Imagine the following scenes:

Friday, May 21st 7:09 pm. Yongsan, Korea. A middle aged Korean man sits in his office cubicle sipping his morning coffee. He glances out of his office's window and watches the busy pedestrians below crossing the street, cars waiting impatiently for the traffic light to change from red to green, and trees swaying to and fro in the wind. He curiously peers into the adjacent apartment building:

Much to his surprise (and entertainment), he sees an obscured silhouette standing in one of the units on the fifth floor. It resembles a human form, only more lanky and awkwardly built than most. In front of a stove it stands, and, judging by the spatula in its right hand and a frying pan in its left, would appear to be cooking a meal. Dinner, perhaps. Fried eggs, perhaps. The Korean man's curiosity is piqued - his nose is now pressing against the glass, and he watches further. The creature suddenly tosses the spatula behind its back, from its right hand to its left hand, and proceeds to sing into the spatula as if it were a microphone. Strange behaviour. The creature then, holding all of its weight on one leg, rotates the other leg using the ball of his foot as a pivot. Still rotating, he drops down low. Ridiculously low. Lower than humanly possible. He then switches to the other side. Upon rising up, it turns off the stove and consumes the contents of the frying pan like a ravenous beast. The Korean man watched all this in utter amazement, thinking, "I know that dance. That was... the Stanky Leg dance! And, that creature got lower than I've EVER seen!" Gulp. He closes the blinds in disbelief and returns to work.


Monday, May 24th, 12:32 pm. Mokpo, Korea. A young Korean couple sit in a coffee shop, sharing a cappuccino. They hold hands, take an occasional sip of their cappuccino, and talk to each other about anything and everything. Their conversation is giddy with laughter. Their eyes sparkle, for they're in love. Suddenly, from a distant corner, the bathroom door bursts open, and a rather eccentric looking caucasian man walks out with an unpleasant scowl. He is waving his hand over his nose, almost as if to warn others not to enter for at least 10 minutes. Toilet paper is stuck to his shoe. He wipes his hands on his pants and notices he forgot to zip up his fly. He quickly amends the fly situation, eyes a jug of ice water on a nearby counter, and refills an empty bottle with said ice water. Does he refuse to pay 5 dollars for a cup of coffee? Perhaps. How many times has he refilled this water bottle? No one knows. He then walks in the direction of the Korean couple, toilet paper still trailing from his shoe, and sits down in an empty seat next to them. He removes a book from his bag. Within 5 minutes, his head is bobbing up and down, and within ten minutes, he is sound asleep with his head leaned back and mouth wide open. The giddy Korean couple look him over, and through a repressed chuckle, they whisper to each other, "What a strange man.."


Thursday, May 27th, 2:15 pm. Myoung-Dong, Korea. A beautiful young lady working at the executive lounge of the Seoul Royal Hotel hears the elevators door open. Ding. An unshaven, haggardly man staggers out dragging along multiple pieces of cumbersome luggage. His attire, a wrinkled t-shirt, basketball shorts, and flip-flops, resembles that of a homeless man. He disentangles himself from his burdensome luggage, pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and hands it to the lady. She unfolds the paper, reads it, and welcomes the weary traveler into the lounge. Returning to her work, she curiously keeps the man within the range of her peripheral vision. After a momentary hesitation, he makes a decisive stride to the lounge's complimentary snack section. One confectionery treat after another, he devours everything in sight as if he had not eaten anything in days. Pausing with a mouthful of food, his wild eyes bounce back and forth across the room, as if to ensure no one is watching. He imperceptibly shifts his weight onto one leg, lifts the other and releases such a tremendous expulsion of air that he appears to have startled even himself. The young lady gasps at the length and magnitude of this ill-mannered expulsion. Good heavens. Was that what I think it was? He, however, seems quite pleased and returns to shoveling his mouth full. He furtively places a few of these snacks into his pockets and quickly exits the executive lounge. The young lady is in disbelief at this encounter, so uncharacteristic of the typical guest, and yet finds herself strangely attracted to him, perhaps as the beauty was strangely attracted to the beast.

Who is this mysterious man? Is he homeless? Is he gainfully employed? What happened? Let's rewind the tape to where it all started. Picture this:

Friday, May 21st, 9:00 am. Thin cirrus clouds stretch across the beautiful azure firmament. Underneath this heavenly ceiling stand thousands of spectators. They are gathered around a lavish red carpet, which has been rolled out and lined with two columns of US marines. These marines are dressed in their finest military attire and stand like statues aside the red walkway. Their sabers are raised in the air, reflecting the sun's beams, creating a tunnel-like passageway. A trumpet sounds, and a young man steps out of an 1980's model stretch limousine. He wears a top hat, puffs on a Cuban cigar, and wears an eyeglass. The crowd, gripped with anticipation, goes silent. He passes slowly through the column of marines, approaches a man waiting for him at the end, and is saluted by this man with mechanical swiftness. The young man salutes in return and is presented with an award. He is given a hearty handshake, and as this happens, a storm of camera flashes light up the evening sky. Roars of applause fill the air. Suddenly, the roars of the crowd are drowned out by the roar of a helicopter hovering overhead, which lands nearby. The young man is promptly escorted into the helicopter, waves good-bye to the crowds of spectators, and flies off in glory. It was his last of work as a government contractor.

Leapin' lizards! You really quit your job?

Indeed. And, I did the Stanky Leg dance while frying eggs. And, I moved out of my house and into a hotel, ransacking the snack section of the executive lounge.

Bustlin' beavers! So, does this mean.... (gulp) you're...

Homeless and unemployed? Yes, it does.

Whistlin' wallabies! That's great! How did you celebrate this momentous occasion?

A wonderful question. I decided to to celebrate my recent liberation by embarking on a 5-day journey across the Korean peninsula, scouring the land, roaming to and fro. The beauty of this journey was that it was completely void of an itinerary. I knew nothing of where I was going, how to get there, what to do there, or where to sleep. Nonetheless, I ventured off, undaunted.

Sizzlin' snake sausages! Tell me more!

Certainly. In fact, throughout the journey, I recorded my thoughts in a journal. Unfortunately for the reader, however, a furious storm arose and, as fate would have it, the rain soaked the pages through and through. Fortunately, I was able to salvage scraps here and there and reconstruct an abbreviated version:

May 22nd: Boarded passenger train at 8:10 am. Stifling odor permeated train. Strongly reminiscent of sour milk and cat urine. Strange. The odor reminded me of Grandma's house, which made me happy. Through the window, I could see an engineer shouting. His lips appeared to say, "All aboard the Stanky Train". I had enough packs of raisins to feed a family of ten.

Arrived in Gyeong-Ju six hours later. All out of raisins. Rain. Unforeseen disruption in plans. Not sure what to do. Need to eat. Found restaurant that looks safe. Ate meal. Unpleasant concoction of fish and noodles. Bowels now roaring due to inordinate amount of fiber consumed on train. Need to find restroom immediately. Still raining. So far, trip not going well.

Nightfall. Tired. Need place to lay weary head. Found a Jim-jil-bong* for 6 bucks.

(*Jim-jil-bongs are Korean Saunas. They are open 24 hours a day, which allows one to sleep there overnight if one so desires. The quality of sleep one can expect there is among the lowest in the universe: hard tile floors, old men snoring inordinately loud, televisions blaring, no blankets, one small pillow the size of a book, strange smells, etc.)


I thought this palace was sweet. It was built in AD 774.




May 23rd: Rain has not stopped. Getting annoyed. Made command decision to travel to a different city, Dae-jeon. Boarded yet another "Stanky Train". Unpleasant. Arrived in Dae-jeon. Not much to see. Still raining. Annoyed at weather. Found shelter in a coffee shop until employees gave unwelcoming stares. Slept in Jim-jil-bong.


Can anyone guess what the sign below means? (I'll give you 5 dollars if you can. )



May 24th: Arrived at Mok-po at 2:45 pm with intentions of catching ferry to Cheju Island. Much to my chagrin, the last ferry departed at 2:30. Next ferry leaves at 9:00 am the next morning. Got lost. Hiked up some mountain. Read book. Fell asleep in coffee shop. Slept in Jim-jil-bong.


May 25th: Caught ferry to Cheju Island at 9:00 am. Arrived at 1:45 pm. Due to lack of time, took a taxi straight to Holla-San Volcano. Huge mistake. Foolishly misjudged size of island, resulting in a 19,000 won ($19) taxi fare. Arrived at Holla-San, but was shocked at cold and foggy it was on top. At least 40 degrees. Breathe is visible in air. Foolishly wore shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops. Freezing. Unwilling to pay an exorbitant taxi fare again, waited 45 minutes for a bus in freezing cold. Not fun.

Holla-San was shrouded in fog, not allowing me to hike up the mountain this time.


Finally caught bus and thawed out. Took bus tour of island. Got lost. Slept in Jim-jil-bong.

May 26th: 8:00 am. Left Cheju Island on massive ferry boat. Ferry is equipped with every accommodation imaginable. Restaurants. Coffee shops. Karaoke. Sauna, and more. Arrived in Mokpo at 12:30 pm.


Caught bullet train (not Stanky Train) back to Seoul. Arrived home at 6:30 pm. All in all, it was a sweet trip.

Howlin' hound dogs! Sounds fun! You got anything else to say?

I do. If there's one thing for certain in this life, besides death and taxes, it's this: Koreans are willing to drink coffee with ANYTHING:

New York Hotdogs and Coffee, anyone?


What about just plain old American style hot dogs?

Anybody need some coffee while you use the telephone? Presumably while also on the can?

Forget coffee! Hey, anybody here know a place I can get some quality foreign food? Oh, yeah, there's one place in town, aptly named, that's got just what you need:


Eh. Nevermind, I'll just go raid the hotel lounge again, destroying everything in sight. I bid you farewell, good readers. Good night!


Sunday, May 16, 2010

The Korea Chronicles, Volume VII

May.

Out with the old, in with the new. Throughout the cruel month of April, a grand permutation was under way. Little by little, winter's cold harsh winds subsided, along with its cold harsh rains, giving way to a warm spring breeze and an occasional light shower. Pear, apple, cherry, and dogwood trees have joined the evergreens, once nature's lone bearers of color, and now animate the landscape with their luscious green foliage. Hiding under the shade of these trees can be found flowers reaching for the sun. Azaleas, lilies, violets, along with Korea's national flower - the rose of Sharon - all together create a kaleidoscope of colorful blossoms on Seoul's hillsides. If one were perched upon one of these hills, they would have a panoramic view of the concrete jungle of Seoul - its once dull and dreary streets now adorned and enlivened with greenery.





Towering over one of these streets are several high-rise buildings, one of which is called the Koryo building. On the fifth floor of this particular building resides a man of lanky stature and cranky disposition. Lost in thought, he stands holding open the door of his refrigerator, peering into its hollow depths as if it were an empty cave. What is he searching for? He forgot. His mind is in overdrive - like a beehive that has been disturbed, surrounded by a swarm of angry bees. There is much to do, you see. His house in a general state of disorder - piles of books and clothes have been strewn about the floor waiting to be packed. These books lie next to other piles of various unwanted items awaiting their abysmal fate in a landfill somewhere. He closes the refrigerator door, walks to his window, and pensively observes the people scurrying to and fro, here and there, on the streets below. Why, and where to, are they scurrying? Who knows.

His attention is suddenly drawn to a large top-hat sitting on his window sill. It has been turned upside down and filled with small folded papers. He reaches into this hat, extracts and unfolds one these papers, and alas, it is a question. It reads:

"Bonjour Mon amie, Erik!

'Tis moi, Erwan, your future brother-in-law! Comment allez-vous? Je suis just finished swimming a few laps in le swimming poole, mon frere. As I was hanging up le speedos to dry, I thought of you. La pew! I heard that you went to a cave recently. Can you kindly expound on your recent adventures, monsieur? Merci, and adieu! - Erwan Le Floch, France"

Ah, so nice to hear from you Monsieur Le-Floch! And, I'm so honored that you associate me with your speedos, too. Allow me to answer your question, mon amie:

Huckleberry Finn Ferryboat Ride

On May 8th, 2010, a bus was leaving from downtown Seoul en route to Choong-Ju, central Korea. On this bus sat the Sensational Six: Pete Freeburg, Kelly Freeburg, Reuben Haggar, Holly Bonnema, Kaley Eastman, and myself. After a few hours of highway travel through the countryside, we finally arrived in central Korea and proceeded to board this ferry.


A three hour ferry ride ensued, navigating through a body of water encompassed by large rocky mountains.


Some of us took the liberty to prop up the old tired legs, and read a little "Gulliver's Travels"...


...while others intrepidly (or foolishly) momentarily entrusted their lives to the boat's railing...



...while still others took the time to relax under the sun.


This ferry ride was, for lack of better term, super-good. It made me think of Huckleberry Finn, biddin' his time, by-and-by, on that steamer rollin' down the Mississippi waters. We finally arrived at our next destination, which was a....


Journey to the Center of the Earth


Or, at least so it seemed. Reminiscent of Jules Verne's novel, we plunged into the depths of the earth, via this convoluted subterranean cavern. It was indeed a different kind of beauty - a darker, more somber beauty. Its dim, corrugated walls echoed the groans of mother earth's bowels. The occasional light would cast grotesque black shadows of passer-byes onto the age-old substrata. Massive monoliths, stalactites and stalagmites made one wonder how long their formation had taken. As we descended, the rickety man-made stairways creaked ever so eerily. In such a colossal cavern, one would almost expect to encounter an insidious beast, such as a minotaur or Morlock. If that were the case, all would be lost. A shudder went down my spine, and I bit my mustache. But, alas, the most ferocious beast we encountered was an innocuous cricket.





I loved the above sign located at the end of the cavern. Interpret it however you wish. I chose to interpret it as a description of our fleeting, sublunary lives. Here for a moment, gone the next. (Oh, so deep... I know)

As a kernel of corn passes through the body's digestive tract unharmed, the Sensational Six passed through the bowels of this cavern relatively unscathed. It made for a great one day trip.




Beatbox Extravaganza

Allow me introduce to you, "Slayer". This is a two man CCM group, who occasionally performs special songs at church. On May 9th, Reuben Haggar and I were in need of a song to perform, and fast. 10 minutes prior to service, Reuben had a stroke of brilliance (brilliant ideas seldom strike me like this). We went out and talked about his idea of doing "Jesus Loves Me", the call-and-response beatbox version. He lead the song, I supplied the beatbox and the call-back, and we both got jiggy with it in the meantime.



Baseball Cages

On another occasion, we visited the baseball cages. There's not much to say here, other than we rocked the house. Or, at least Reuben, ex-baseball player and "Slayer" frontman, rocked the house:


I'm reluctant to put on exhibition any photos of me striking out. My born-and-bred-to-play-baseball-brothers Joseph and Jesse would be utterly ashamed, and possibly lose any vestige of respect they have for me. But, Mark Nola? Hey, he's a different story:



Yul-dong Park, Bundang

On May 15th, the Fabulous Four (Pete & Kelly Freeburg, Holly Schoephoerster, and yours truly) traveled down to Bundang, a ritzy upscale area in southeastern Seoul, for the sole purpose of bungee jumping. There was an air of excitement upon catching a glimpse of the 45 meter tower.



Understand, gentle readers, that a trip to Bundang is nothing to sneeze at, taking no less than 1.5 hours to reach. When we approached the tower, our air of excitement was suddenly gripped with an indefinable apprehension. Could it be? Is it possible? Is it... closed? Not exactly, but the term "closed" is synonymous with "sold out". Wait... Sold out?

Another shudder went down my spine, resulting in me once again biting my mustache. Do bungee jumping platform sell out? You wanna know what I think of this?

"Dear nefarious, monopolistic, pathetic excuse for a bungee jumping company,

Hello. My name is Erik. Great tower! But hey, listen.

If your company is suddenly shutdown by the Korean IRS for tax fraud and/or is visited by malevolent alien invaders who have traversed the universe with the sole intention of uprooting your platform with their tractor beam, then my wish has come true. Hey, have a great day! Your loyal patron,

Erik"

Well, I'm starving. I'm off to my new favorite restaurant to eat me some "beans and waffle". Adieu, good readers!

(To be continued..)

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

The Korea Chronicles, Volume VI

Pop quiz!

Which of the following is true about the author?

A. Torrential rains have poured down in his hometown, Nashville TN, causing one of the worst floods in its history. Not even the Opryland Hotel has been spared.

B. According to this pathetic pocket calender he's kept in his wallet since January, he has exactly 29 days remaining until his glorious return to America.

C. Every contrivance known to man - telephone, telegraphs, HAM radio, carrier pigeons - have been employed in an effort to make contact with Mr. Robert Johnson, his venerable father. These efforts have all been fruitless, frustrating him, and prompting him to leave a disgruntled voice message on Mr. Johnson's answering machine this past weekend.

D. He gave a speech this week, which was meant to be humorous, and not a soul laughed.

E. On two separate accounts this week, good fortune has allowed him to narrowly sidestep a bombardment of bird excrement. Without a doubt, these birds were lawless agents sent from his archenemy, Jonathan the Seagull (see previous post).

F. A phantom midnight violin player lurks somewhere in his building, depriving him of sleep throughout the night which, in turn, has contributed to his being like this trashcan dwelling grouch throughout the day.

How did you do? Let's grade 'em!

For the perspicacious and judicious reader who answered "yes" to all of the above, I say the following: "Congratulations! Let's socialize more often!"

For those who said "no" to one or two of the above, I say the following: "That's ok! We're still friends, but from now on, let's limit our socializing to once per month!"

For the foolish reader who said "no" to three or more of the above, I say the following (in emphatic tones): "You disgust me, you filthy vermin. All social interaction between us shall, from henceforth, cease. Your text messages shall go unanswered. Your emails shall suffer a similar fate, being marked as spam and deleted without even being read. Begone!"

But, hey, cheer up. Let's turn the tables. Hey! Why don't you ask me a question?

This week's question comes from Samuel H. Ahn, of Mililani, Hawaii. He writes:

"Greetings, Monsieur Johnson. I genuflect in your excellency's presence.
Allow me to express my sincere gratitude for the privilege of humbly appearing
on your excellency's most esteemed blog. My question, Monsieur: What will you
miss most about Korea? Your gracious servant, Samuel Ahn."

Excellent question, dear Sam. And, thanks for your most magnanimous genuflection (+10 vocabulary points!). Gentle readers, behold! For I now present to you:


Top Ten Things I'll Miss About South Korea


10. Public Transportation

If there were a single word to describe Seoul's public transportation system, it would be: precocious (+10 more vocabulary points!). For the more simple minded among you: it rocks. Its safe, convenient, and will take you anywhere you desire to go. You want to go to Jamshil to watch a baseball game? Hop on Subway line 2! You want to take your lover on a romantic walk down Chong-gae-chon? Hop on Subway line 5! It's that easy. In fact, it's so good that owning a vehicle is superfluous (+10 more points! Yeah!).

If one wants to read during their voyage, one can read.



If one wants to sleep during their voyage, one can sleep.


All in all, Seoul's public transportation is great. But, not everything is fun and games. For example, read this epic post entitled, "The 02 Bus", co-authored by legendary blogger Reuben Haggar, yours truly, and others.


9. Karaoke

Korea has an unbridled obsession with karaoke, for obvious reasons. Karaoke in America typically takes place in a one large room, where only the bravest of the brave (or most inebriated) venture to sing, whereas in Korea, it takes place in smaller individual rooms where groups of friends can unabashedly sing to their heart's content. Far less daunting. And, far more fun.


8. Being Huge

At times, I feel like Gulliver when he encountered the "Lilliputians", a race of people 1/12 his size. Others can probably relate. Doors are small, resulting in the occasional banging of the head. Ceilings are low, resulting in more banging of the head, as seen below:


Cups are 1/10 the normal size, resulting in an inordinate amount of refills. Pepsi cans are 1/3 the size, resulting in hoardes of angry obese people. And, the average Korean male is 5'8", while the average American male is 5'10", which is advantageous in many areas of life. Below is a picture which poorly illustrates this point. (Disclaimer: taking multiple pictures of yourself on a subway can be incredibly awkward, which sometimes results in a crappy photo.)



7. Making Me Feel Rich

The Korean Won. Its brilliant color schemes range from blue to orange to green, reminiscent of Monopoly money. Its lowest paper denomination starts at 1,000, which is roughly the equivalent of 1 US dollar. Needless to say, this would give any unsuspecting eye the false illusion of being a "big balla", as some would say.




6. Banana Milk

What does one do with all that mad cash, besides flaunting it? One option is to blow it all playing World of Warcraft, like some do (not me). Another option is to buy some banana milk (like me).

How does one consume this mysterious banana milk? Here's a demonstration!


Go ahead, try it!

5. Authentic Kalbi

Kalbi (ribs) is (are) a personal favorite of mine. Anywhere else, they don't taste quite the same. Here's a step-by-step guide on how to eat this savory dish.

Step 1. Marvel at its beauty.



Step 2. Devour voraciously.



4. Seoul International Basketball League

One might be inclined to presume that an inordinate amount of money was used to bribe the league founder, Luke Elie, to let me play in this league for the past three seasons. This may or may not be true. Either way, it was super fun.


3. Kim-chi Squat

Once mastered, this seemingly primitive and awkward resting position can be done anywhere - in an alley, on a busy sidewalk, in a convenience store, on the bus, anywhere. And, although I'm not proud to say this, I've mastered it. Go ahead, judge for yourself.

Here's a photo I snapped of an unsuspecting lady in the subway. Look at this posture - so perfect. So natural.


Now, compare her posture to mine below:


Impressed? I knew you would be.


2. Dried Squid

Long ago, when baseball and movie theaters were first carving their way into Korea, something bad happened. Somewhere, there was a bad translation - "popcorn" got mixed up with "dried squid". A misfortunate, though understandable, error. Not that I despise this seafood treat. I actually like it, despite its hideous smell.


"Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowd. Buy me some dried squid and cracker jacks, I don't care if I ever get back!"

1. Strange Translations

Let's face it. Korea's technology has far surpassed America's in some areas. Unfortunately, "spell check" has yet to be discovered. And, quite honestly, I hope they never discover it. If nothing else, it makes for funny signs and restaurant menus. Below are some common examples of what you might find walking around Seoul. (Disclaimer: these pictures were totally stolen from http://www.engrish.com/)



Good friends, there are many many more things I would like to share, but as the reader values brevity, I will not bore him/her with the particulars. I do, however, ask you to send me your questions, so that they may be answered right here on this blog. That's right, this is your opportunity, your chance in the spotlight. Who will be next?

For now, compatriots, the author is tired and his bladder has reached full capacity. Until next time, good readers. Adieu!