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