Sunday, March 28, 2010

The Army

When I came here, I became a resident of two strange lands: The Republic of Korea and the U.S. Army. I have spent a lot of time talking about Korea, and not too much talking about the Army. This is not because I am less surprised and curious about what I find, but rather that I have had OPSEC regulations pounded into me and can't publish anything without worrying that I am “helping the enemy.” But enough of that.

Like many of us, I spent most of my younger years badmouthing the establishment. I think flirting with anarchy is a rite of passage for the privileged suburban kid. When I was 19, I went to a lot of parties, fueled myself with various substances, and bitched about the machine. Many of the men and women I encounter here are about that age, and they get up at 4 every morning and do PT.

Our fighting men and women make up the most responsible and mature community I have ever been a part of. They are respectful and courteous patrons. I don't think the staff here have ever seen an “incident”--a regular occurrence at Main Library—and I have never had so many apologies for overdue books. In a recent poll, 65% of the community said they read regularly. A larger percentage than that have library cards. They consider the library a vital part of their community, which is why I don't want for funding.

These men and women have lived all over the world, and many have seen war. I have never engaged anyone in conversation and been sorry for it. I have also never heard anyone talk about politics or religion without being asked. My former coworkers at the library will understand what a blessing that is (and not a blessed day).

The military establishment can still frustrate me at times. I have to fill out most forms at least four times before they are accepted. I can't plug a zip drive into my computer because of OPSEC regulations. The military community, however, is the best I have ever belonged to, and I am proud to be a part of it.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Dreams of Mexican Food

We were excited when a Mexican restaurant opened in town. It's called Tacoholic, and it received decent reviews in Daegu Pockets. The pictures depicted enchiladas suisas with rice and black beans. We finally tried the place today, and let me say, that was false advertising. I ordered chicken tacos and got chicken fingers and lettuce on a tortilla, with red beans and a mashed sweet potato on the side. What a let down! Some friends told us that Tacoholic originally had authentic Mexican, but now they serve this stuff. Korean food is so spicy, I don't understand why Korean Mexican can't at least have some jalepenos. Man I miss Mexican food...

Friday, March 26, 2010

Foreignness

I was walking the dog on the mountain today—both Maya and I are thrilled that there's a mountain across the street—when we heard singing. After we got closer, I saw a man walking through the woods, singing chants and bowing. It was moving to watch.

I finally put the pieces together about the wood chopping that goes on at Apsan. There are several burial mounds around. My employees occasionally take time off for family memorials, in which they visit and tend to their family graves. The people chopping trees are keeping trees away from their families' burial mounds, probably as part of the annual ritual.

Koreans have a religious attachment to the mountains. There are shrines and temples all over them, and there are the burial mounds. I have always found mountains inspirational—I think many of us do—so I'm not surprised.

Last Saturday while Bobby and I were driving across town, the sky became ominously dark. At the time, I was expecting a big storm. We have spectacular storms in North Carolina, but this was like nothing I had seen before. It became so dark that the street lights came on, and we only got a spattering of rain. Later, I discovered that the yellow dust levels were perilously high that day. Yellow dust comes from China, and in the spring and summer it blows into Korea. People are cautioned to stay inside and close all of the windows when the levels are high. I have been wondering what yellow dust looks like, and I think I just got my answer.
I guess we're not in Kansas anymore.


Burial mounds on the mountain

Saturday, March 20, 2010

The Kids are All Right

On Wednesday night our animals arrived at our villa. It was a long journey for them, brought about by the good people at petrelocation.com. The pet shippers kept us posted throughout their journey, which included a stay in a “pet hotel” in Amsterdam (what that is, I'll never guess).

They are adjusting fine. Maya is having a hard time adjusting to Korea time, but she likes walking in the mountains every day. The cats l-o-v-e the house. There are so many windows, and the floors are heated. I can close off three rooms for them, leaving them a dog free area that's as big as our old house.

In other news, Bobby and I met my uncle Mike in Seoul this past Monday. It was nice to see a familiar face so far from home. We had a good dinner at the Hyatt and a last pre-dog overnight at the Dragon Hill lodge.


Loki loves the window














Puck basking
















Get that camera out of my face! I've just been in a box for over 24 hours.













Puck loves the floor

Life and Tables

Today we went back to Jangjawan to buy a dining room table. Until Korea, we spent our entire life together eating with plates on our laps, but we bummed a table from the Army lending closet when we moved here that now has to go back. I can't imagine going back to our previous tableless state, so we decided to buy one. Being the bargain hunter that I am, I didn't want to settle for the limited selection available at the PX. We were not disappointed. We found a veritable city of tables at Jangjawan. As we scanned the selections, salespeople followed us around nervously. I think they are told to provide extensive customer service, which of course is impossible if you don't speak the same language as the customer.

We settled on a carved wooden table with a glass top. I asked the saleslady in bad Korean if she spoke English, and she knocked 100,000 won off the price. I still haven't gotten the hang of bargaining, so that was definitely a bonus. Eventually she called an English speaking friend, who verified our address so they could deliver the table to us. This was another pleasant surprise. In Korea, delivery is assumed and included in the price.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the blow my former workplace received today (well, yesterday for them). Around 4 in the afternoon on Friday, several of my friends and former coworkers received telephone calls telling them that they were laid off. PLCMC faced a 2 million dollar budget shortfall, and has to close 12 branches and lay off 148 employees. The people laid off were bright, hardworking people and longstanding employees. My heart is with each and every one of them, and I've got my fingers crossed for a last ditch fundraising effort. I threw them some money with my best wishes, and anyone who reads this before March 24 is encouraged to do the same: www.plcmc.org. This is a huge loss not only for my friends, but for the city of Charlotte.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Small Victories

Well, I finally made it up the mountain. I have been climbing Apsan mountain almost every weekend, but I always turn around about ¾ of the way up. Yesterday, I made it to the top, and it was very cool.

I started by taking a different route. The one behind my house is the turbo route—it goes straight up the mountain, almost no looping. I chose a more popular, slightly gentler route a little farther down the road.

There is not a lot of looping on Korean mountain paths in general. My (almost) only point of comparison is the Appalachians, and the slopes are much gentler on them, but the paths also loop and meander much more.* On Apsan mountain, it's straight up the slope, no digression allowed.

Well, my weeks of not climbing the mountain have paid off, and I have some stamina to show for it. I passed several people on my journey up, some of whom remarked in Korean when I passed (Look at that white girl go! Or something like that.) About halfway up, there was a temple nestled in the slopes. This 1000 year old temple was a gathering place for the Korean resistance during the Japanese occupation. Here they planned the March 1 independence movement, which was mercilessly subdued by the Japanese but is celebrated now as an independence day. I understand why this was a good gathering place. You have to be determined to reach it.

There was yet another Jindo at this temple. Jindos are white fluffy Korean dogs, and there's one at almost every temple. I will have to ask why. There was also a plate of tteok—rice cakes-- at the entrance, though I don't know if it was an offering for people or gods. When we moved into our house, Mr. Pan brought us tteok to place in the bedroom for luck.

The rest of the climb was a rocky adventure, and there were less and less people the farther I went. I suspect that several people give up before they get to the top. Once I reached the top, I could see all of Daegu and some of the surrounding areas. To the right I could see the Nakdong river, the spot where the South Korean and US forces stopped North Korea's relentless march—the Pusan perimeter. There's a cable car that will take you to this place, but I have to insist that the view is better after the climb.


* I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge Mount Snowdon in Wales, with weather so treacherous it was like the mountain was trying to throw us off. Mount Snowdon remains my most difficult climbing experience.


Tteok on the railing















The walls of the temple compound













Hello, Daegu!














The guardian jindo
















Speakers everywhere. North Korea apparently has propaganda speakers everywhere. South Korea has music coming from theirs.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Buy the Book Cafe

There's a neat bookstore I like to visit downtown. I wrote about it for About.com.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Korean Delivery

Well, it's been a long day. I went to a library staff conference in Seoul. This involves about 2 hours of travel each way and a very early wake up call. Half of the conference was conducted in Korean with no translation, which was deflating. So when I got home, we took advantage of one of my favorite perks that Korea has to offer: delivery!

I have wanted to demonstrate this phenomenon for awhile, and I finally remembered to. Full disclosure: I love to cook, but we order delivery at least once a week. I take yoga on Mondays and Wednesdays, getting home at 7, and that's often too late to cook much of anything.

I have posted pictures of our delivery menu before. We get a new one each month, but we've been using one we like for awhile. There's a restaurant that has just about every Korean dish I like, and its super cheap. Today I ordered Udon noodles and a gimbap, which is various things rolled in seaweed (much like sushi, but no fish). Bobby ordered a sweet and sour pork cutlet. The meal cost us 10,000 won, which about $8.85.

I called in the order, and it was delivered to our villa in about 20 minutes. It came in regular dishes, which we used and left on our doorstep for the delivery guy to pick up later. The soup was warm and delicious, and it was heartening to remember what I love about Korea. You can't beat the cheap, high quality, entirely delivered food.


Food, from bottom right: Udon, gimbap, 2 kinds of kimchi, pork cutlet with rice.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Solidarity

Today I discovered intestine alley. Allow me to explain: in Korea, shops are almost all specialized. There are supermarkets in Daegu, but they are a relatively new phenomenon and somewhat slow to catch on. The specialized shops tend to cluster together. There is an electronics district, a hardware district, a produce district, a fabrics district, and so on. These districts become even more compartmentalized: there's a cell phone alley, a tire shop block, hell, the other day I even saw an area of 7-11's. Restaurants are often the same way. The one outside of my villa sells exclusively gumtang (ox tail soup). There are pages in our takeout menu that show one dish and four options—1,2,3, or 4 servings. These restaurants also group together. Our Daegu guidebook tells us what neighborhood to visit for good kalbi or guksu rather than listing specific restaurants. There is a row of restaurants with identical pink signs near my house which all serve cow intestines.

There is an aspect of Korean culture that fosters this uniformity. There's a Korean word for it which escapes me (anyone?), but it encompasses loyalty to tradition and conformity. Koreans tend to adhere: to their families, their neighborhoods, their culture and traditions. Most Koreans are not forthcoming about their own opinions or values because this may set them apart from others. They often order the same thing at restaurants. (I sometimes wonder what Koreans with food allergies do, though I suspect that many of them suffer.) Young Koreans are not as tied to this value; like young people everywhere, they belong to our first generation of global citizens. I suspect that they are the reason there are supermarkets at all. I know that young people are the primary market for the fast food joints and western restaurants that have sprung up around town (notably, there is neither a western food district nor a supermarket district in Daegu).

The stores on intestine alley are a portrait of uniformity. I wonder who dared to be the first to set up an intestine shop there. When other intestine shops went up, was the first guy relieved to be validated despite the competition? What is the tipping point where a deviant becomes an innovator? As I've mentioned before, Koreans are extreme, and once an idea is accepted it is clearly embraced wholeheartedly. I imagine that this is why the concept of intellectual property never really caught on here—how do you know it's a good idea until it's widely emulated?

As an American, this glorification of sameness is difficult to understand. The American values I love the most are our diversity and flexibility. There's nothing like living in another place to make a person appreciate where she came from, I guess.




Intestine alley