Brief relief!

I am not sure what took me so long to realize it, but I’ve finally analogized that my journey is akin to a poor Korean boy from a small town being dropped in the middle of New York City, except that Seoul has 2 million more people... in half the space. I also realized this weekend, that to say you know New York state because you’ve been to the Big Apple is heresy because it neglects, the Catskills, the Finger Lakes, Niagara Falls and Buffalo – well, not Buffalo (Buffalo’s kinda like Beefaroni on an authentic Tuscan menu). This weekend I got away from the city and found that the majority of this country is gorgeous limestone cliffs and rolling mountains, endlessly blanketed with trees.


Korea outside of Seoul.

This weekend I met up with some fellow McMaster alumni. Dana, whom I have met a few times in my university days and Mona, whom I had never met, got together and enjoyed life in Donghae, a smaller, industrial town on the east coast of the country. I learned that in the smaller towns there are many stares and children simply adore you because of the colour of your skin. This makes a bit of sense considering the country is estimated to be about 99% homogeneous. On the local bus a group of 12 year old girls in school uniforms were very excited by my presence and immediately asked me to sit beside them at the back of the motorcoach. Had this been 1993 it may have been the greatest moment in my life. I must admit, it was fun to experience a moment in the day of the life of 98 Degrees, Avril Lavigne or a puppy brought in for show and tell.

All the children love to try their English on the foreigners: "Hello. Pleased to meet you." A couple of times there was even an "I love you," spoken from the safety of the other side of the street, followed by the blissful sound of children’s laughter. To most ESL teachers this is a very common occurrence and nothing worth noting, but as a Seoulian, I guess my skin colour isn’t as much as a spectacle or a rarity as in smaller towns.

The three of us kicked the night off with a few drinks and some singing at a noraebang, a personalized karaoke room for up to about 10 people. After some melodies, we decided that nothing would be better than finishing up the night with a 3 am trip to a jjimjilbang (a building with sultry saunas for people to enjoy at any time of the day or night). There are two parts to the jjimjilbang; a public, male and female room made for relaxing and saunaing and then there are private, male- and female-only rooms filled with hot tubs, cold tubs and more saunas. The single-sex rooms have only one requirement – nakedness (sorry, or thankfully, depending on who you are, but there won’t be any photos of this on the blog). Stereotypes and old wives tales had me believing that I would be a redwood in a forest of young saplings, relatively speaking of course, but as a curious (and honest) man I must say that Korean heads aren’t hanging... but some other anatomical parts are.

A night at the Noraebang quickly taught me: A) I can't sing B) I am a chorus whore who just mumbbles over the verses.

The next day the three of us ventured over to Hwanseondonggul and explored one of the largest caves in Asia. As someone who enjoys a good spelunk every now and again, this cave certain didn’t disappoint. Inside were cathedral-sized caverns, waterfalls, cascades and enough stalagmites and stalactites to force a geologist to retire from the field for she/he couldn’t possibly trump the experience.



I felt sorry for the inventor of the camera on this day because his wonderful contraption will never be able to capture the sights of the Hwanswongonggul cave.

Later on that night we treated ourselves to a much deserved Korean feast. We found a quaint, little family owned restaurant that required us to sit on the floor -- a standard Korean practice. It’s proper etiquette for the men to sit crossed legged, while the women are allowed to sit in either the cross-legged position or with their legs to the side. Korean dining isn’t a quick in-and-out experience and so after about 15 minutes of being in the lotus position, I begin to seriously ache. (If only I’d majored in duck, duck, goose. Not only would it be good for my current sitting predicament but I’d probably have more job opportunities than I do with this English degree). Ideally, I would be able to hide my legs under the table and hope for the best, but the dining tables aren’t high enough for such lethargy, so I usually end up putting my legs to the side. On this night, the kind Korean man sitting next to me tapped me on the foot about 45 minutes into the meal and told me to "man up." Of course it was said in Korean, and with joculairty, but the message was loud and clear: "pussy." It’s so easy for Koreans to sit in this position because they’re released from the womb sitting cross legged (and you thought getting the shoulders out was the toughest part). But that man can't understand, I am so tall, and genetically inflexible, and my hair was in my eyes, and my dog ate my homework, and on top of all that, it’s my first day on the job.

Benevolently,

E. Stiffy