Seoulmate

However insignificant it may seem, I must talk about splash-back. Splash-back has always been an interest of mine, and while I try to bring it up in conversation as often as possible, I know there may be a few of you out there asking, “what’s splash-back Ian, please do tell?”

Splash-back is an unfortunate event that strikes when you least expect it. Sometimes, when males relieve themselves some of the "output" can hit the urinal and splash-back at the emitter. It’s rather embarrassing, but sadly it’s a fact of life. Under normal conditions it’s a rarity in the urinating world, but in anormal Korea it happens all too often. The bane of my urinating existence has a name, and it is the Lavatron. The Lavatron, with it’s Epcot like sensors, gives a courtesy flush as you step up the urinal. It coats the urinal wall with a thin stream of water as you’re peeing so that your business rinses cleanly away and all but eliminates that distinct and unpleasant urine bouquet. On paper, it’s a wonderful idea, but while the hydrological lavatory engineers are patting themselves on the back for a job well done, splash-back rears its ugly and embarrassing head.


While the female readers will never experience (the thrill of) peeing into another stream of water, gender aside, one can image what happens when a high-powered stream of liquid comes in contact with another stream of liquid flowing perpendicular to the first stream. Of course the result is none other than our good friend splash-back. So whenever I urinate at the public facilities in Korea, I always stand an extra couple of inches back from the urinal. Typically when men go to the bathroom they stand at the urinal as if the inside of the porcelain has got the most important and personal secret to share with Mr. Johnson. Normally, I too encroach the urinal, but because I seem to be the only one in this country concerned about splash-back, I stand at a safe, yet socially unacceptable, hosing distance. I hope that the Koreans don’t think that I am trying to showoff or make them feel inadequate. There are few exceptions, almost all the urinals in the country, even the ones in the public parks, subway stations and government buildings, are equipped with the Lavatron. This is a wonderful amenity considering the government doesn’t offer any social programs or assistance to those in need, the minimum wage is around $3.50 an hour and the tap water isn’t safe to drink. Priorities I suppose. See, there you have it, even in a seemingly trivial rambling on splash-back there is a nugget of poignancy about Korea.


I assure you these ladies have nothing to do with splash-back or anything splash-back related. We met them two weekends ago in the hills at the north end of Seoul. We couldn't help but fall in love with them.

This past weekend Kelly, an English co-teacher, and I travelled to Seoraksan – I returning for a second time and her for her first – to take in the beauty and fresh air. Kelly and I enjoy taking in the Korean culture and sights and so we’ve quickly become very compatible travelling companions.



Four of these cats were guarding the front of this particular temple. If I had to hazard a guess they probably ward off bad spirits. I asked the four of them, but it seems they don't speak English because I didn't get any response.


As a bit of a hiker here in Korea, I’ve noticed that this country doesn’t use switchbacks. Most other places I’ve been to have trails that traverse fro and to so that climbing to the top of a mountain is more manageable. In Korea that doesn’t seem to be the case. If there is a mountain to climb, a deal to close, an education to get, a sidewalk to build, or a bakery to open, they head straight for their destination. If that means they have to put 808 stairs (as is the case in Seoraksan) inclined at 75 degrees (which one could argue takes away from the natural beauty) and head straight for the top, then that’s what they do. It should be noted that this isn’t really a complaint or a criticism, merely an observation. The switchback has it’s advantages and disadvantages; as does the direct, heart-attack inducing stairs that take you exactly where you want to go as efficiently as possible. I think this metaphor accurately encapsulates Koreans and their outlook on work and getting things accomplished.


If you look closely you can see the stairs in the middle of this giant rock. Just some of the 808.


Heundeulbawi (tottering rock) is a 16-tonne stone that was placed there by the hands of mother nature. Half the Korean population (24 million people) have tried to push this boulder. Sit and think about that.


Jane Fonda's "Buns of Steel" has nothing on this. And don't even get me started on Claudia Schiffer's "Cheeks of Iridium." These stairs are the ultimate workout.

The weekend was wonderful, but on the subway ride back to Sindaebangsamgeori Kelly and I received a detrimental piece of news. An American, co-teaching couple decided to pack their bags and return home without warning, or anytime to replace them. Another English teacher is missing in action. I guess the chilly weather that has just arrived literally gave them cold feet. If Koreans showed emotion you’d be able to see that our director is a little stressed out trying to fix things. Because of this little Dongjak SLP bump, things are a little hectic for everyone, and this entry has a few more photos and bit less writing. It’s okay though, Seoraksan can’t be justified with words.






With aching cupidity,

E-on teacher

P.S. Watch out for nuggets of poignancy, you never know where they may lurk.

P.P.S. If you ever come vis-a-vis with the Lavatron there is a way to outsmart the robot. Approach the urinal and walk away. Once the pre-flush has occurred, quickly jump in front. Before the Lavatron knows what hit it, you’re done your business; splash-back free.

P.P.P.S. For the record that says cupidity, not stupidity.

The Horse's Ear from the Horse's mouth

Let me preface this entry by posing a question. Has the person, or persons, who invented the coach bus and airplane seat ever sat in one for an extended period of time? After spending ample hours in these bucket chairs I have no choice but to conclude they have not. These people must have designed the chair, hit it rich and spent the rest of their days being supinely transported around on beds comforted by their own egos. I wonder if the designer, or designers, suffered from a chronic case of scolioisis and have a personal vendetta against the rest of us. Seriously, try and sleep in those things.

This past weekend was a cornucopia of Korean experiences: BBQ, soju, “service,” noreabang (karaoke), bus trips, traditional folk villages, markets, jjimjilbang (a Korean bathhouse, but not the type of bathhouse that is conjured up in the minds of the flower power generation), hiking and temples. That’s a lot to try and condense into one post, but I’ll do my best to be as pithy as possible.


After school on Friday night, two fellow co-workers and I ventured over to our favourite restaurant to enjoy some delicious Korean BBQ. The owner, Mr. Jeung, speaks quite a bit of English and is extremely cordial with Canadians. One of Mr. Jeung’s favourite things to do is sit down with his foreign customers, Skelly (Kelly), Mr. Chris and Mr. Ian, and enjoy shots of soju (which is a bit like vodka lite).

It is necessary to digress for a moment and explain how “service” works in this country. All restaurants owners in Korea know at least one english word, “service,” and if you show any sort of loyalty or spend more than about an hour in their establishment, then food and nibbles are on the house. It is also important to become familiar with the Korean drinking custom.

1. Never pour your own drink.
2. Once someone pours your drink you must finish it, and drink every last ounce because they may take your glass and turn it upside down over your head if you leave a drop behind.
3. If you see that someone else's glass is empty pour them a drink.
4. Refer to step 1. and repeat until necessary.


Needless to say, it didn't take long for the “service” to kick in. Meanwhile a Korean in-line skating team was celebrating a teammate's birthday. They looked like a good group of people and we decided to send them a celebratory bottle of soju (a 500 ml bottle of 25% alcohol costs around $1.75). Our simple gesture quickly became a fount for even more debauchery. Soon enough, we were sitting at the birthday table, enjoying cake and wine and talking about the beautiful coming together of our respective nations. Perhaps the United Nations should stop meeting at that silly building in New York and instead find a really big bar if we are to ever know One world. "So I says... Kofi Annan... but I want a cup right now." (Boutros Boutros-Golly this is a tough crowd). Afterwards, a drunk Mr. Jeung treated us to norebang, and we in return treated him to a pitch-perfect, mellifluous rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

I woke up the next morning, and for some unknown reason my head was rather painful. All my other co-workers had gone ATVing for the weekend and I decided to do some much needed and much desired solo-travelling. I hopped on a bus and headed to the town of Jeonju.


I assume that most of you have, at one point or another, heard the factoid that 90% of communication is non-verbal. Well, whoever came up with that statistic is full of poop and has obviously never taken a cab in Jeonju, Korea. If it wasn’t for my Lonely Planet I surely would have perished this weekend.


Thanks to LP, I found a tiny little room that would have even Gary Coleman saying “man, this room is tiny.” LP only led me astray once this weekend and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I was trying to search for a nearby sauna so that I could relax and enjoy a good book. Eventually, a friendly man, named Shin-Bong Soo, who spoke a tiny bit of English, stopped and inquired about my ruffled brow. I said the word "jjimjilbang", and once he understood, he got on his phone and started calling around. Three minutes later he had the address and was telling me that we were going together.


I know that I’ve already talked about jjimjilbangs but, arguably, there’s nothing more perfect or ripe for blogging than naked Korean men and me (very arguably). I never realized it -- because the last time I was in one of these buildings I was a little tipsy -- but you have to be very comfortable with your naked self. You get off the elevator on the men’s floor and you are immediately confronted with bananas; not just one or two, but bunches of them. Men are just sitting in big leather chairs in nothing but their birthday suits, watching t.v. while other naked men are standing right beside them looking in the mirror and cleaning out their ears with q-tips. I tried to explain to Shin-Bong Soo how this would never be culturally accepted or common back home. Yet, in Korea this was just a normal, naked Saturday night. (I guess that's what happens when you don't have hockey night in Canada). Nobody’s eager to locate their clothes, or wrap a towel around their waist; it's such a huge contrast from our uncomfortable and homophobic culture back home. After about two hours, Shin-Bong Soo parted and I had the awkward pleasure of asking a nude stranger what floor the salt room was on. I am already a little apprehensive to talk to strangers, but I think asking naked, non-English speaking strangers takes the uncomfortable cake.


On Sunday, I travelled to Maisan Provincial Park, and visited one of the most stunning Buddhist temples (according to LP) in the country. Located at the base of two 650 m high stone peaks, which look like horses' ears, is Tapsa Pagoda Temple. The stone pagodas were arranged following the principles of yin and yang, and although they were piled up over 75 years ago, they have miraculously never crumbled or fallen and no concrete or cement has ever been used.







From my heart to yours,

Mr. Ian