From Colombia to Korea: Part 1

Traveling has been part of my life for several years now and the bouncing from country to country isn't a new feat for me. However, leapfrogging between two countries on opposing sides of the culture continuum is turning out to be a fascinating exercise in dealing with culture shock.

I feel lost and yet, somehow caught somewhere between these cultural extremes.

Some say that culture is the way of life for an entire society. Now I am no social or cultural anthropologist with indepth scientific knowledge on the topic at hand, but not only can I see a significant difference in the culture of Korea and Colombia, I feel it.

Perhaps one of the most challenging differences is the language. Ten months ago, I arrived in Colombia with no prior Spanish language education, but I could rely on my high school French and several months in Italy to get me by. I could at least read signs, headlines and other texts and then use a dictionary to translate the important words. I could even attempt to communicate in broken Spanish using my previous language bank and with special thanks to USA Sesame Street and various Hollywood flicks.

Eleven months later, here in Korea, I am totally illiterate. The bubbles, lines, and dashes that make up characters are essentially Chinese to me. I have no clue what store shops sell or what restaurants specialize in. I can only point to pictures and hope that I get what I could eat. I don't know the words for "yes" or "no". I cannot rely on my previous language base, not even Japanese. I am craving to communicate, but am truly at a loss for words.

So instead of relying on my mouth, I am taking more of a back seat and observing the streets.

One of the things that amazed me the most about Colombia were the roots of the people. A mix of Spanish, Indigenous, and Black. Then for fun, throw in the middle eastern immigrants, and my question is what is the face of Colombia? There is not one specific image that comes to mind. However, ask the same question for Korea--I know I have one specific image.

Being Canadian I was an outsider in Colombia and an outsider here in Korea. Being a 5'8" female with pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes here in Korea reminds me that I am even more of an outsider. I do not blend in. I cannot avoid the stares, and I cannot help but feel more isolated and anomalous than ever.

I may have stood out on the streets of Cartagena, but I always felt welcomed. The people were warm and always had a smile or a heart-felt laugh that broke with such ease. Strangers turned to friends almost as easily as their smiles turned to grins despite the communication barriers. And the streets seemed to have a life of their own. People sauntered, taking their time to enjoy the route from point A to B. Hawkers joked around and spat out their repetoires.

In Daegu, however, it is another story. Koreans pass me and others on the street with their blinders and scowls on. They mind their business and scurry to the tick of their watches. Noone seems to joke or chat and the only thing being spat out by hawkers is their own saliva. The street culture in Korea is as cold as the noodles served on ice.

In my mind, on the streets of Cartagena, I can hear drums and shiny brass instruments playing a lively salsa with people dancing. On the streets of Daegu, I hear a lonely saxaphone player and the occasional drop of a coin in a metal bucket.

Road Hazard

At the end of the street at Insadong this bizarre truck was parked selling anything you could imagine--baskets, bamboo, buddhas...you name it.

Archway Roof

Red Guard at entrance

Now, due to the darkness and angles, the roof top of the archway did not come out in this picture. But look above for yet again, ornate details.

Top Cloud Loo

I was told that the restrooms at Top Cloud had the best views of the city. I had to see for myself--they were right.

View from Top Cloud

Top Cloud

At the top of Jungno Tower is the Top Cloud restaurant with a 360 degree view of Seoul from the 33rd floor. Although it was closed, I snuck up and took some shots. I later got caught and reprimanded by some snotty employee who drew an imaginary line on the floor with his foot. He then pointed his finger at me while saying, "No crossing this line."

Jungno Tower Upclose

In the heart of the downtown core sits Jungno Tower--a striking bit of architecture to the square boxes of concrete surrounding it.

Red Guardsmen, Red Door

The Flagsmen at Gyeongbokgung Palace

Surrounding the inside of the Palace are the guardsmen and flagsmen. I suppose I was lucky to be there are the right time for the changing of the guard.

Gyeongbokgung Palace

Buddha at Jogyesa

Jogyesa Entrance Way

Although the monks wear shades of grey, the temples are painted in fabulous shades of ornateness.

Jogyesa--A Buddhist Temple

I was wandering on my last day of being in Seoul and came across this temple. I slowly walked inside and found that prayer time was just starting. Monks were gathering other worshippers and I stood in the midst of the commotion.

Starbucks

I suppose living in Colombia spoiled me. It developed my coffee tastebuds and fulfilled my need for a good fuel-driven caffeine beverage. So, when I arrived in Korea I was less than impressed by the dirty water they served with such pride called "coppee". It wasn't even mud. I could have handled mud, but not a soup. I scoffed at the idea of drinking that horrible liquid for the next six weeks, and thus my mission began.

Even upon my return to Canada, Starbucks couldn't compare with Colombian coffee, but here in Korea, it is heaven-sent. I found a Starbucks in Seoul and felt like I should fall down upon my knees at the door of the coffee temple. I placed my order of an Americano and the barrista started to walk over to the prebrewed machines. I cringed. "No...this machine," I said pointing frantically to the espresso machine. She understood and I breathed a sigh of relief. She then looked at me, "cold coffee?" Oh my god, please don't mess with coffee in this way. I want it hot, I want it to burn my tastebuds so I can tolerate the crap you serve in this country, I want it to burn the whole way down. "No, hot." The barrista smiled and started to make my coffee. I sighed and took my Americano outside, holding the cup and its precious contents to the street to sip and watch life go by.

I suppose it was the slight acrid odor that caught my attention and led me into this stamp shop. I watched a woman and her son take slabs of stone and begin carving out stamps. Mr. Bae, an elderly and English-speaking man told me bits and pieces of this tradition and even helped me design my own stamp. Thirty minutes later I walked out of the store with my own stone stamp and a liking for that astringent smelling ink.

Samgyupsal and Cass

Dinner was a do-it-yourself style BBQ of pork that is then wrapped up in sesame leaves or lettuce leaves and topped with a choice of 6 sauces. It was quite good but was even better washed down with some Cass--a very light Korean beer. Gunbae!

Dinner Date in Jungno

There is a district in Seoul filled with bars, restaurants and god knows whatelse behind the blinking neon, but for me, it was dinner. I don't expect myself to get back to this exact area ever again--it is huge and eventually all the bright lights look the same. This district goes for miles and is actually divided into 3 sub districts so it is possible to tell your friend which Jungno number you are in and still be within a 2 kilometre radius.

Umbrella Rules

A friend once said that walking in the rain in Korea should come with a serious warning. Being over 6 feet tall, the lovely spokes from umbrellas were perfect striking range of his eyes and face.

Seoul is already crammed with people, yet when even a smattering of rain begins to come down, ALL umbrellas are which causes more jams and chaos. However, there seems to be some sort of order. From what I saw along Insadong it goes something like this: the old ladies keep their umbrellas over their heads and bump or stab anyone or anything in their way. The shorter females do keep their umbrellas level as well, but will slip them slightly to the left or right to avoid oncoming pedestrians, and it is the men who lift their umbrellas higher to be able to pass and avoid a tangle of fabric and spokes.

Noodles

Again, in Insadong, I came across a noodle house which had hand-made noodles. My gut was still a bit unsettled, and although I would have loved to have tried, thought it would be best to avoid heavy gut wrenching dough on my digestive system. (Ahhh, the joys of travelling.) But it was probably the best choice, since an hour or so after taking the picture, I strolled back and found this same man puffing on a cigarette in his cubby hole while his stray ashes probably found a resting spot on the sitting dough.

Beef anyone?

Along Insadong, small sidestreets veer in every direction and are usually filled with other shops and restaurants. I think I may have found carnivore heaven.

Souvenir Shop

I began wandering down Insadong - a popular and quaint street lined with galleries, souvenir shops, funky stores selling stationary, and street food that I couldn't quite figure out or even bring myself to try.

Hangbok Garden Party

So my first full day in Korea and I spent a few hours working and getting ready to be shipped off to another city, Daegu, but had a few things to check out.

The Seoul office was in the heart of the city, and out I went awandering. I came across this shop and great display of traditional Korean dresses(hangbok), including this one complete with grass.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

More stories and photos to be uploaded...having some issues with computer...stay tuned.

Tea House Train Station

After dinner, the five of us went to a quaint little tea house to drink, tea of course, however, the menu was just as eclectic as the décor.

From the street there is nothing that catches your eye or begs you to enter, but as you do, you can see the thought that was placed in the whole concept. The place is divided into thirds—reclaimed train seats running up and down the outer walls and picnic tables down the middle—as if two trains are passing through a small park. But it was the details that caught my attention. Mock hydro poles were assembled and lined the one aisle, complete with those ceramic conductors and sagging wires. What made me laugh were the two stuffed crows perched, admiring the action below (no doubt trying to figure out who to shit on). A small picket fence separated the “picnic area” from the aisle and created a clear division, and almost like a front yard of a house. The back yard of the house was lined with taller bamboo shades and plants which separated it from the other aisle and the next train.

Perhaps the most interesting detail was the graffiti on every inch of wall space and tables. Shin loves Eun Young, Spencer was here, and other indistinguishable messages written in hangook (Korean letters), Chinese characters and a few scribbles of Japanese. Some guests added drawings, and some posted photos and one etched in their frustration of being a foreigner dealing with another way of life, “Walk faster Koreans! Walk straighter Koreans!”

I decided that I would leave my mark—my finger print and my name.

Yes, in Korea.

A new trip, therefore new tales to be told in a new blog site.

This first posting is one that explains the sudden and rash decision to my arrival here in Korea. But first a bit of background.

I returned to Vancouver from Colombia sometime towards the end of June. My contract was finished and therefore my visa would expire. Since I had my paid returned ticket, I figured I should use it, spend some time getting back on my feet and then figure out what was next for me.

I had spent a week just adjusting back to Vancouver time and without anything really productive to do with except read, surf the net, hangout at the beach or walk my dog, soI considered looking for a job to supplement the meagre amount of pesos in my bank account. I took a walk to the former place of employment, and voila, a job was offered to teach ESL. So there I was, making 20 bucks an hour, chilling with some great students (and a hell of a lot more "polite" and respectful than some of my Colombian students) and then on Wednesday morning was approached a few minutes before class started. "Amanda, would you like to go to Korea?"
I think the rest of the conversation went something like this;
"Uhhh, to do what?"
"To teach a TESOL program. Flight and accommodation is paid for on top of your salary."
"For how long?"
"The program is 6 weeks long, but perhaps a bit longer, time to adjust and prepare and then same thing when you come back, so possibly about 7 weeks or so"
"Sure, when would I leave?"
"This weekend."

The funny thing is, about a year ago I would have flipped or panicked, or just about lost it with some drabble about last minute plans, but with the experience of Colombia under my belt, a few days seemed liked eons to prepare. Besides, most of my clothing and things were already packed, passport was ready, and I really didn't have anything to hold me down in Vancouver, not even an address.

My flight left on Sunday afternoon. I was packed by Sunday morning, gathering the last minute things, although I was sure I had forgotten something, I have still yet to discover it. I endured the 10 hours of flight and landed in Seoul shortly after 3pm Korean time.

Immigration was as simple as handing over my passport and collecting a stamp. I think food stamp lines take longer, while customs was even easier as I just handed over my declaration card and continued to walk through. I waited for my bags and was already feeling parts of the culture. Few people could drive their airport buggies with ease. I was bumped several times, but all, fortunately, missed the achilles. People budged their way to the conveyor belt to get their baggage, which all seemed to look the same--various shades of gray or black. I was thankful that my multi-coloured non-matching bags would stand out just as much as the owner driving them recklessly through crowds in an unmanagable buggy.

I walked out the gates to find Paulina, the coordinator for Korea Times Media Education Department to meet me. A sweet woman who drove us back to the city. Her car was hooked up to some electronic Korean woman who constantly chimmed in some garbled high-pitched tone something about the speed limit, warnings about radar, and warnings to slow down. It was obvious that other Korean drivers either didn't have the same voice or chose to ignore her along with the speed limit, as they flew past us on both sides.

We arrived in Seoul, where the Han river was high and had caused serious floods in various parts of the city. The highways were clean, easy to navigate and not so full of traffic. I was surprised by the order of things. I didn't really have any sort of expectations, but figured Seoul would be a bit more chaotic. But then again, yesterday was the national day of rest. I suppose everyone was doing their obligatory 'rest' out of national pride and staying off the freeways.

The rest of the evening was spent having dinner, being chauffered around some suburb and then dropped off at my hotel where I watched Discovery Channel, and then ventured out to some corner store to buy some water and snacks. The short little woman giggled and laughed and knew it was hopeless to communicate after a long rant and no response from me. When the calculator came out a sigh of relief went through me--at least I could see numbers. I managed some sort of thank-you and got more giggles, and another psuedo rant with lots of smiles and arm grabs. I think we are friends now, but who knows!

So here I am. Digital camera in hand, and stories are sure to be had. I will be in Seoul for another couple of days then off to Daegu where I will begin teaching.

Until then....