Angie and Guinness delivered my (Heather’s) parents’ first grandchild Monday morning: Winifred Jane Wieland. She’s 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and 21.5 inches tall, with soft, dark hair and shining blue (I think they’re still blue) eyes. What a beauty! We can’t wait to meet her this summer!
You can see pictures on my Dad’s blog: therealestatestory.blogspot.com
Congratulations, Angie and Guinness!!!
It takes me a long time to drink coffee. Get it? My last post was LAST Sunday, when I said I’d tell you about Seoul upon our return from the Dunkin’ Donuts down the hill. Oops.
Anyway, maybe the best way to start is to tell you what we expected to find in Seoul. We knew it was one of the biggest, most population-dense cities in the world, we knew we’d find more western food and English speakers than we’re used to, and from what the students told us, it was supposed to feel “completely different” from our city in the South. My teenage-girl students got all breathless about this last part, describing the beautiful, super-skinny women and the tall buildings and the cosmopolitan air. We couldn’t wait to see it ourselves.
We traveled by train, first-class there and coach back; the extra 6,000 won (about $6) got us red plush seating and more legroom, along with a little extra bowing from the staff. The five hours raced by, and soon we arrived at Seoul Station, a big building near the heart of downtown. We walked through one of the famous street markets toward Myeongdong, our favorite part of the city.
Myeongdong has Korea’s only example of gothic architecture: Myeongdong Cathedral, built in 1898. When you’ve seen nothing but concrete, block-style structures for months–and when your trip before Korea was to Paris, where every building on every street is unique and charming and lovely–you feel gleeful just seeing something like this. We went in and checked out the stained glass, which had nothing on Europe but everything on concrete high-rises, and found out about their Sunday English service, which we planned to go to but didn’t.
Myeongdong–which essentially comprises downtown–has the tall buildings, exciting nightlife and great restaurants we’d hoped to find in Seoul. We ate at an upscale-burger place, which was attached to a hip store that very much resembled Urban Outfitters and was the first place I’ve seen with clothes, dishes, and other stuff that I’ve actually wanted to buy. (This is one aspect of Korea I didn’t expect: The styles and decor, especially in the provinces, trend heavily toward a Laura Ashley, cutey-pooty, buttons-and-bows aesthetic that’s 180 degrees from the zen minimalism we westerners tend to associate with The East.) I restrained myself, knowing I’d have to lug around any purchases all weekend. You can’t be a vagabond and a consumer at the same time.
It was beyond freezing. Have you ever felt so cold that you actually worried about your health? It’s a strange feeling for Californians. We had to keep going into stores and coffeeshops (Starbucks was everywhere! Paradise!) to make sure our appendages weren’t getting frostbitten. Each time, it took a good ten minutes for us to feel our toes again. There were some moments I worried that I’d fall down because my feet were too numb to feel the ground under them. Crazy, isn’t it?
We walked around downtown to another part of central Seoul: Insadong. This is where we spent the night. I wish we had taken pictures of our love motel. It was so fabulous. The Hotel Tomgi is a Lonely Planet Top 5 pick, and with thousands of motels to choose from, it was nice to have a recommendation. LP delivered; the place was sweet. You start by picking your room from a panel of photographs on the wall. If a picture is lit up, that room’s available. We chose one and paid the delicious price of 60,000 won (about 60 bucks) for a room that, I swear, was better than our honeymoon suite at Caesar’s Palace. Jacuzzi tub, super-toilet with a heated seat and built-in bidet, steam shower with floor-to-ceiling jets, and–Joel’s favorite–a wide-screen, flat-panel, attached-to-the-wall TV on which we enjoyed free English movies we picked up from the lobby downstairs.
The next day was warmer, and after a long sojourn at a three-story Starbucks, where we took in the giant warrior statue across the street and decided Seoul will be the place for us if we come back for more English-teaching action, we set off for the most interesting cultural destination of our trip: Gyeongbokgung Palace (also known as “the palace that starts with a G,” since I’m awful at remembering Korean names and have to rely on the students to fill in details when I tell them a story).
The palace is a replica/restoration of the original, which the Japanese tore down during the occupation to make room for one of their government buildings. When they left, the Koreans tore that down, of course, and used the remains of the old palace to rebuild it. It’s magnificent, and what makes it really fun is that the Korean government staffs it with guards in full regalia, dressed to look like they did during the monarchy rule. Inside, there’s a massive courtyard and rows of steps leading up to what you might call the formal living room: the intricately-painted main public space, where the royals held court. This is a self-contained building surrounded by ground, as are most of the rooms in the palace. Guarding it are dozens of gargoyles. Unlike the spooky ones at Notre Dame, these little guys are cute-ugly, not menacing at all. They’re all different animals with different expressions; each one is a new discovery.
As we walked across the rest of the grounds, we got a better sense of this massive, massive space. There were king’s chambers, queen’s chambers, tons and tons of courtrooms, plus a bunch of buildings that were closed off. We meandered around, taking pictures and gawking, and finally came upon a tall pagoda we’d been wondering about, which turned out to be the Korean Folk Art Museum.
The museum entrance was free, so we paid $1 each for the English audio tour. I’m usually not one for audio tours–especially in art museums, where they’re often so history-lesson oriented that they detract from the art-viewing experience. But they turned out to be great: This museum was really more of a “Welcome to Korea” center, with more space devoted to miniature replicas of various Korean scenes (palace life, kimchi production) than actual artifacts. It was a kick to hear an official museum resource actually refer to a historical period as “the olden days,” and though we learned a lot that we knew already, we had fun checking things out. Plus, it was warm in there.
It was getting dark, so we took our first Seoul subway ride to Itaewon, the international (read: drunken American soldier) area of the city. Not surprisingly, I’m sure, we were craving Mexican food, and our tongues watered at the thought of the Western-food delights that awaited us. When we emerged from the subway, we went to the first Mexican restaurant we saw and gorged ourselves on overpriced burritos. Then we hit Gecko’s, a popular English restaurant/bar, where Joel enjoyed a $12 Cuban cigar and a real, malty beer, and I had something that tasted like a hot sangria. After hitting ANOTHER Mexican restaurant (I’m on a diet now), we made our way back to the Hotel Tomgi for more hot water and big-screen fun.
The next morning we went to Hongik University, where we’d hoped to find an artistic wonderland of supply stores and ads for cheap studio space (this is the area we thought we might move if we did another year). Since Hongik has the most popular art program in the country, this didn’t seem like too much to expect. Sadly, there was no Utrecht there, no Home Depot for cheap canvas frames and no university art store on campus. We found a handful of small art shops, and Joel went in one, where he got some supplies and a bad attitude from the clerk, which at first we blamed on “Bushy” (Koreans’ name for our current president) but then discovered was probably connected with a recent rape of an old Korean woman in the area by an American. We didn’t learn about this incident until weeks later, so we went around feeling mopey for awhile and drowned our sorrows in a pitcher of margaritas and too-tiny burritos at yet another Mexican restaurant. Then we walked to the top of a mountain behind the university, where we saw a view of the city that made Joel get out his camera and me feel jealous of Koreans, for whom every light below represented a place they could go and be understood, and order food without hand gestures, and have real conversations, and not be prejudged by their nationality, because they shared it with everyone else. It’s awful to feel tempted to pretend to be Canadian all the time, and so many of us do it because we’re ashamed, and I wish I didn’t have to be ashamed anymore.
(Of course, later, when we heard about the rape we understood that the clerk’s attitude wasn’t about Bushy–probably–and we realized that we were just feeling touchy because we weren’t getting the usual star treatment, since they’re used to white people in Seoul. Away from Seoul, Koreans’ fascination with Hollywood makes our California heritage especially alluring. I guess it’s Europe where you feel most tempted to claim Canadian nationality. And I love Europe more. Oh Stacy–our Canadian cousin–you’re so lucky!)
We wanted to try another love motel, since there are, after all, so many, but the Lonely Planet-recommended places weren’t letting people in until 11, and we were tired after all the climbing and eating and lamenting. We checked into the first place that accepted us–a modest, $50-on-a-Saturday place that was more Motel 6 than honeymoon suite, but we were tired and they DID have SNL on TV. We went out looking for food, but the whole area was a little too wild for our taste; it was more like the Korea we already knew, back in the university district of Ulsan: Bright lights, cheap liquor, an outdoor arcade game in which young men pound a machine with a big, padded stick, making a loud noise that is usually innocent but, this day, felt threatening. We made our way to McDonalds, where we gobbled our last Seoul supper and headed to bed.
For our last day there, we hit the other big market. I bought a sweater for $2 and Joel bought a mystery for 3; he’ll tell you all about it later. We searched for sheets–the holy grail for Westerners here, who usually have to contend with strange little mats and giant towel-blankets–and then gave up and went home.
It’s nice to have the Hollywood treatment back (see my last post for notes on that), but we will get back to Seoul–and the Hotel Tomgi–as soon as we can. The kids were right: It IS different there. In three days, we saw just a few of the places in our guide book. We can’t wait for spring, when we can walk along those big streets without worrying about losing a toe!
Oh, for those of you who don’t know, back in California, my sister Angie is moments away from delivering her first baby! Congratulations (almost!), Angie and Guinness!
Whew! Thanks for reading this far. Take care, everybody!
Heather
51
On another foreign teacher’s blog–can’t remember which–I read a joke that described part of the “Migook” (American foreigner) experience here:
Two Americans land at LAX after a year of teaching in Korea. The girl turns to the guy: “Well, how does it feel to be poor?” The guy turns to the girl: “I don’t know; how does it feel to be ugly?”
When I first read this I thought it was kind of harsh. Now I get it. We’re rich here, comparitively, and foreigners content with saving less can live it up every night of the week. We’re also–every one of us–considered absolutely beautiful.
Last night I went out with some friends while Joel worked on a painting. The few of you who have ever joined me on a dance-club floor know that my approach to the activity is sort of tongue-in-cheek. I jump around. Do a little soft-shoe. Generally flail about. It usually looks like something out of a bad aerobics video, but usually nobody really notices. Except in Korea.
Only in Korea can I describe the hip-hop clubs as “innocent.” They have the flashy lights (remember the little strobe-light room in Chuck E. Cheese? It’s like that). Everything’s painted great colors and decorated with mirrors. But though they play the same rap and house-music that would scare me away from a dance club back home, inside everyone’s sweet and friendly. Koreans don’t get in fights outside the club. Things don’t get out of hand. They may dress like “gangstas” for their big night out, but they don’t act the part. I don’t think they know the part. I don’t think they even understand the words of the music–some of it tinged with violence, since it comes from the U.S.–they just hear the beat and smile and dance. And beam when foreigners join them.
At one point in the evening I was dancing with Matt, our sweet Canadian friend who really likes Korean girls but feels shy approaching them. I was trying to break the ice for him, dancing with one set of girls and bringing him into the group, when all of a sudden we realized that movie magic was happening. The floor had cleared, and all around us were the bright, delighted faces of our Korean audience. They were giving us room to work our sweet moves. I trotted out some stuff I’ve seen in cartoons. Matt did a little twirl. “Enjoy this moment, Matty,” I said. “This is the only time in our lives a dance-club floor will clear for US!”
To Matt and I, and our friends in hysterics at the bar, we knew we were just two dopey-looking white people. But to our hosts, we were total royalty. When I went to the bathroom later, the girls in line insisted I skip ahead. They admired the jeans I bought at the street market next to the fish heads, the shirt I bought in Paris at the five-euro discount bin. “So beautiful,” they said. I felt like a guilty princess.
It’s shameful, really, that I can run around with no makeup and dirty hair and be treated like Cameron Diaz. Before we came, I read that Koreans were really image-conscious–that they expected you to dress up all the time. That’s not really true. They expect each other to dress up. But me–whatever I happen to be wearing is a new trend. I get caught in the rain; they admire my curly hair. I make a mockery of dancing; they try to copy my “moves.” California’s going to be so weird after this!
So I didn’t say anything about Seoul yet, did I? I’ll write another post later. It’s Sunday afternoon and we’re going down the hill for coffee. It was wonderful. Absolutely gorgeous. We kind of wish we’d done the year there. We’ll tell you all about it soon!
–HEATHER
