Eating Korean Dog Meat (Part 2) from Kenneth Major on Vimeo.
Showing posts with label Andeok. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andeok. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Snail Hunt After-Party
Jess and I had a lot plans for this weekend. We were going to go grocery shopping, relax in Pohang, watch the firework festival, go see a movie, and much more… but none of them happened.
The rainy season is really putting a damper on our travels. It can be a beautiful 40oC sunny day outside one minute, and the next minute you’re in a torrential downpour. There’s no way to predict what type of weekend you’re going to have, and the Korean Meteorological Society is far from being accurate (although they did successfully put a weather satellite into space last month… high five Korea!).
Instead of a nice trip to the beach, Jess and I spent another nice night in Andeok (close enough…right?). We watched a movie on the computer, had a superb dinner (homemade poutine!), and then took a nice midnight stroll down to the river. We set ourselves up on the small dam, and talked over the sound of the rushing water around us.
Suddenly, two SUV’s pulled up to the side of the dam, and about a dozen people jumped out. They were all in their thirties and fourties, but they sounded like a bunch of teenagers, giggling and chattering in excitement the whole way down. At the bottom, they approached the water holding spotlights, buckets, nets, and other fishing gear. They said hello to us as they walked by, but our presence didn’t deter them from the fun of their little “midnight excursion.”
They spent most of their time on the far side of the dam where the water wasn’t as deep. One or two people held the spotlights in place, while the third guy wadded through the thigh-deep water, overturning rocks and plucking things off of them. We have no idea what all the others were doing, but we could hear their faint laughter in the distance.
As we later found out, they were hunting for snails. I have seen ajummas collecting snails in the river before, but this was the first time I’ve seen a young, well-dressed group of people rush to the river in SUV’s for a little midnight snail hunt…
We’re still not quite sure why they were hunting them, or what they were planning on doing with their “catch,” but it was it was quite something to watch. If this is the new Andeok after-party scene, count me in!
- Ken
The rainy season is really putting a damper on our travels. It can be a beautiful 40oC sunny day outside one minute, and the next minute you’re in a torrential downpour. There’s no way to predict what type of weekend you’re going to have, and the Korean Meteorological Society is far from being accurate (although they did successfully put a weather satellite into space last month… high five Korea!).
Instead of a nice trip to the beach, Jess and I spent another nice night in Andeok (close enough…right?). We watched a movie on the computer, had a superb dinner (homemade poutine!), and then took a nice midnight stroll down to the river. We set ourselves up on the small dam, and talked over the sound of the rushing water around us.
Suddenly, two SUV’s pulled up to the side of the dam, and about a dozen people jumped out. They were all in their thirties and fourties, but they sounded like a bunch of teenagers, giggling and chattering in excitement the whole way down. At the bottom, they approached the water holding spotlights, buckets, nets, and other fishing gear. They said hello to us as they walked by, but our presence didn’t deter them from the fun of their little “midnight excursion.”
They spent most of their time on the far side of the dam where the water wasn’t as deep. One or two people held the spotlights in place, while the third guy wadded through the thigh-deep water, overturning rocks and plucking things off of them. We have no idea what all the others were doing, but we could hear their faint laughter in the distance.
As we later found out, they were hunting for snails. I have seen ajummas collecting snails in the river before, but this was the first time I’ve seen a young, well-dressed group of people rush to the river in SUV’s for a little midnight snail hunt…
We’re still not quite sure why they were hunting them, or what they were planning on doing with their “catch,” but it was it was quite something to watch. If this is the new Andeok after-party scene, count me in!
- Ken
Friday, 16 July 2010
Korean Dog Meat
The subject of “Korean Dog Meat” is one which I purposely haven’t written about until now.
Why did I wait a year? The reason is really quite simple: I’m a Westerner.
As a Westerner, I had a strong bias on the subject before I moved here. Now that I’ve been living and breathing Korean culture for a full year, I feel like I’m now in a much better state of mind to write a balanced blog entry.
Let me first state that no, not all Koreans eat dog meat. While it was certainly a common Korean dish merely a few decades ago (especially after the Korean War at a time when beef and pork were difficult to obtain), it is becoming increasingly rare to find. Almost all restaurants in the major cities have removed dog meat from their menus, and people are beginning to adopt a “western outlook” regarding dogs as pets rather than a delicious source of lean meat.
Luxurious canine spas are popping up all over the country in response to the overwhelming demand to pamper these new pets. People are dishing out HUGE amounts of money to keep their furry friends groomed, full of expensive treats, and up-to-date with the latest fashion trends. Despite accepting this as “normal” practice, we are but a few countries that treat our pets better than our in-laws.
This morning was the first time I’ve ever witnessed the killing of a dog for meat.
The dog’s owner, a farmer, led it up onto a giant overturned bucket. He tied a thin wire around its neck, fastened it to the underside of an A-Frame ladder, and then pulled the bucket from under its legs. At first, the dog panicked and thrashed about back and forth with such viciousness that I thought the ladder would fall over. Its struggle only made the wire cut deeper into its neck as it spun around the central axis of the noose. A few moments later, its movements were reduced to full-body shudders, and then finally subsided to the occasional off-beat leg twitches. As quickly as it had started, it ended. The dog’s tongue hung off to the side as its eyes glazed over, staring straight up at the morning sky. Meanwhile, the farmer was off to one side, casually picking up branches that he had cut earlier from his apple tree.
…
I don’t like to see ANY animals die. Chickens, cows, pigs, and fish are all part of my regular diet, but I still have a difficult time seeing them being slaughtered for consumption.
But for me, seeing a dog being killed is on a whole different level of sensitivity. Why? In all honesty, I don’t know. They’re just animals like all the others…aren’t they?
Well, the answer isn’t a simple yes or no. From a scientific perspective, the answer is yes. From an anthropological perspective, the answer can be a resounding no. Different animals have been seen in different hierarchical levels at different points in history, and this varied tremendously by culture. I’m not going to try and debate which cultural ideals were (or currently are) morally right or wrong, I’m just trying to shed some light on a single event that prompted me to question the extent of my cultural “open-mindedness.”
I can easily debate either side of the “Korean Dog Meat” dispute, but what I can’t do is change the fact that I cringed as I watched a dog being killed this morning.
Some values are so deeply engrained that no amount of cultural immersion can completely remove them from the subconscious mind.
I will continue to eat meat, yet I will also buy our family dog his favourite treats when I return home to Canada.
I am not perfect.
I am, after all, just another animal…
- Ken
Why did I wait a year? The reason is really quite simple: I’m a Westerner.
As a Westerner, I had a strong bias on the subject before I moved here. Now that I’ve been living and breathing Korean culture for a full year, I feel like I’m now in a much better state of mind to write a balanced blog entry.
Let me first state that no, not all Koreans eat dog meat. While it was certainly a common Korean dish merely a few decades ago (especially after the Korean War at a time when beef and pork were difficult to obtain), it is becoming increasingly rare to find. Almost all restaurants in the major cities have removed dog meat from their menus, and people are beginning to adopt a “western outlook” regarding dogs as pets rather than a delicious source of lean meat.
Luxurious canine spas are popping up all over the country in response to the overwhelming demand to pamper these new pets. People are dishing out HUGE amounts of money to keep their furry friends groomed, full of expensive treats, and up-to-date with the latest fashion trends. Despite accepting this as “normal” practice, we are but a few countries that treat our pets better than our in-laws.
This morning was the first time I’ve ever witnessed the killing of a dog for meat.
The dog’s owner, a farmer, led it up onto a giant overturned bucket. He tied a thin wire around its neck, fastened it to the underside of an A-Frame ladder, and then pulled the bucket from under its legs. At first, the dog panicked and thrashed about back and forth with such viciousness that I thought the ladder would fall over. Its struggle only made the wire cut deeper into its neck as it spun around the central axis of the noose. A few moments later, its movements were reduced to full-body shudders, and then finally subsided to the occasional off-beat leg twitches. As quickly as it had started, it ended. The dog’s tongue hung off to the side as its eyes glazed over, staring straight up at the morning sky. Meanwhile, the farmer was off to one side, casually picking up branches that he had cut earlier from his apple tree.
…
I don’t like to see ANY animals die. Chickens, cows, pigs, and fish are all part of my regular diet, but I still have a difficult time seeing them being slaughtered for consumption.
But for me, seeing a dog being killed is on a whole different level of sensitivity. Why? In all honesty, I don’t know. They’re just animals like all the others…aren’t they?
Well, the answer isn’t a simple yes or no. From a scientific perspective, the answer is yes. From an anthropological perspective, the answer can be a resounding no. Different animals have been seen in different hierarchical levels at different points in history, and this varied tremendously by culture. I’m not going to try and debate which cultural ideals were (or currently are) morally right or wrong, I’m just trying to shed some light on a single event that prompted me to question the extent of my cultural “open-mindedness.”
I can easily debate either side of the “Korean Dog Meat” dispute, but what I can’t do is change the fact that I cringed as I watched a dog being killed this morning.
Some values are so deeply engrained that no amount of cultural immersion can completely remove them from the subconscious mind.
I will continue to eat meat, yet I will also buy our family dog his favourite treats when I return home to Canada.
I am not perfect.
I am, after all, just another animal…
- Ken
Friday, 2 July 2010
My Birthday!
From what I’ve seen this past year, my teachers don’t celebrate their birthdays at Andeok School. So today, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Monday, June 14th. I received a wonderful call from my family this morning. Complete with wishes of a Happy Birthday and a special piano piece performed by my lovely sister, my day started out on a good note. However, the few hours that remained of my morning slowly turned sour as I continued my day with my craziest class of the week – my Andeok Middle School Grade 1 students. With their unrelenting lack of discipline, they were the start to every one of my beautiful weeks, draining me even before I could begin my second class. I certainly did feel older today…older, more tired, and my back strained from standing all day…
***
In the evening I felt much better. Ken made me a steak dinner, and surprised me with stargazing on the roof. He had cleaned up all of the intricately-spun cobwebs, watered down the black tar on the roof, and set up candles and balloons all over the roof’s edges. A blanket was laid out underneath the stars, and a cool breeze swirled around us. I lay down on the blanket and was as happy as ever. Ken disappeared for a few moments, and upon return, walked up the stairs of the roof, coming towards me with a tub of coffee-chocolate ice cream, topped with broken chocolate pieces, and lined with thin, glowing candles. I made my wish twice (since the wind blew out half of the candles before I could do so).
It was the best surprise that I could have wished for on my birthday. At the end of the night, I was certainly one year older, but with Ken, I felt one year younger, one year happier, one year more loved…
- Jess
Monday, June 14th. I received a wonderful call from my family this morning. Complete with wishes of a Happy Birthday and a special piano piece performed by my lovely sister, my day started out on a good note. However, the few hours that remained of my morning slowly turned sour as I continued my day with my craziest class of the week – my Andeok Middle School Grade 1 students. With their unrelenting lack of discipline, they were the start to every one of my beautiful weeks, draining me even before I could begin my second class. I certainly did feel older today…older, more tired, and my back strained from standing all day…
***
In the evening I felt much better. Ken made me a steak dinner, and surprised me with stargazing on the roof. He had cleaned up all of the intricately-spun cobwebs, watered down the black tar on the roof, and set up candles and balloons all over the roof’s edges. A blanket was laid out underneath the stars, and a cool breeze swirled around us. I lay down on the blanket and was as happy as ever. Ken disappeared for a few moments, and upon return, walked up the stairs of the roof, coming towards me with a tub of coffee-chocolate ice cream, topped with broken chocolate pieces, and lined with thin, glowing candles. I made my wish twice (since the wind blew out half of the candles before I could do so).
It was the best surprise that I could have wished for on my birthday. At the end of the night, I was certainly one year older, but with Ken, I felt one year younger, one year happier, one year more loved…
- Jess
Thursday, 1 July 2010
The World Cup in Andeok
Saturday, June 12th. It was a tiresome evening in Andeok. Both Ken and I had just finished a Saturday’s worth of English camps, and we were utterly exhausted.
Despite covering hours upon hours of camp activities with our students, we mustered enough energy to attend another of Andeok’s community events – watching the 2010 World Cup, South Korea vs. Greece, live from the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium in South Africa.
There were a fair number of Andeok residents sitting on the ground in a field in front of the local police station. They placed themselves on flattened out cardboard boxes and picnic mats. Ken and I both received Red Devils’ (the South Korean soccer mascot) t-shirts and pairs of inflated clappers to cheer on the soccer team representing South Korea.
Moments before the game was projected onto the screen, men with hard, hanging drums, spurred on the crowd with their strong, solid beat. Everyone was shouting “Dae-han-meen-guk!” (The Republic of Korea!) and hitting their clappers together.
Finally, the game began. The first goal was a perfect setup. In mid-flight, one of the soccer players kicked the ball into the net, which turned our little community into an uproar. In the second period, another mighty goal was scored by South Korea. The players of Greece’s team seemed to grow tired. However, South Korea’s Red Devils seemed to maintain their drive until the very last seconds of the game. No matter which direction the game was teetering towards, it was clear that South Korea fully supported its country’s representatives. Every moment of the game was devoted to shouts and screams of encouragement, the banging of the drums, the inflated clappers, and the hypnotizing chant, “Dae-han-meen-guuk!”.
After two hours of “on-the-edge-of-your-seat” soccer action, two praise worthy-goals by Lee Chun Soo and Park Ji-Sung, an overall score of 2-0 favouring South Korea, and over two hundred deflated clappers, everyone was buzzed and must’ve had a good night’s sleep, exhausted from their enthusiastic cheering.
However, the night was not over for me, Ken, and Justin (the Andeok Elementary School English teacher who joined Ken and I during intermission). We stopped by our local convenience store to buy some celebratory ice cream, and found the owner red-faced and beaming with excitement. He told us that he watched the game on his small TV, which was rested at the top of one of his shelves, and downed seven beers while doing so. He continued with his eighth after offering us some beer in celebration.
After spending more time than we had expected in the store and reliving the highlights of the game, the owner urged us to have one drink with him at a bar. Remembering the last time we were supposed to have one drink at the bar (it turned out to be several), we tried to turn him down gently, but he was quite persistent.
***
After the store owner closed up shop, Justin, Ken and I walked down the street with him, while he took our arms in his own and swayed from side to side. We eventually made it to the bar…the owner, slowly rubbed her eyes as she had just been woken up by us.
She welcomed us in, as we apologized for our late entrance, and set us up with anjou (snacks) and beer. From dried seaweed and a medley of fruits, to succulent, marinated beef, we happily filled our stomachs with the delicious late night snack. About an hour after our noisy entrance into the bar, we were completely spent, exhausted from the seat-gripped game that was the South Korea vs. Greece World Cup match.
Dae-han-meen-guk…zzzz…
‘Twas a good night.
- Jess
Saturday, 12 June 2010
The Andeok Cats
I was peacefully working away at the computer when I caught two movements out of the corner of my eye.
On top of the neighbour’s shabby outhouse (her bathroom), there was one large, calico cat, and one tiny grey, striped kitten. Looking nothing alike, I assumed that the larger cat had adopted the smaller one.
It appeared as though the calico mother was trying to teach her kitten how to climb down a tree leaning against the roof of the outhouse. The kitten, while attempting it at first, quickly inched back onto the roof.
I thought, what a moment worthy of a video! I ran for my camera and started to shoot the darling cats in one of life’s most important lessons.
Its mother climbed halfway up the sturdy tree trunk, meowing…trying to convince her baby to face her fears. The little guy didn’t budge. The calico cat then went on to leap onto the roof, bite the kitten by the nape of its neck, and pull it towards the edge of the roof. The kitten tried once more, but couldn’t overcome its vertigo. It scurried away into a hole, just underneath the outhouse’s roof. The mother cat was just about to go after her kitten…when she spotted me, holding my camera, in the sunroom.
For one hour she didn’t move. Frozen like a statue, she kept her eyes locked on me, in one iced-over glare from the rooftop. I was afraid to leave the house. She then raced to the ground, focusing her gaze upon me once more, only having it broken by another cat, a grey, striped cat. He must’ve been the father. I thought of it then. The two stray cats, doing their dirty business inside of our neighbour’s roof…producing a baby that couldn’t even leave the vicinity of two square meters, all around.
I warned Ken of the cats by phone. They were right beside the walkway to our house, and I was confident that they would be keeping a watchful eye on anyone passing by.
A couple days later, we left a peace offering at the bottom of the tree trunk – a dish of flakey tuna. The next day, it was licked empty.
- Jess
On top of the neighbour’s shabby outhouse (her bathroom), there was one large, calico cat, and one tiny grey, striped kitten. Looking nothing alike, I assumed that the larger cat had adopted the smaller one.
It appeared as though the calico mother was trying to teach her kitten how to climb down a tree leaning against the roof of the outhouse. The kitten, while attempting it at first, quickly inched back onto the roof.
I thought, what a moment worthy of a video! I ran for my camera and started to shoot the darling cats in one of life’s most important lessons.
Its mother climbed halfway up the sturdy tree trunk, meowing…trying to convince her baby to face her fears. The little guy didn’t budge. The calico cat then went on to leap onto the roof, bite the kitten by the nape of its neck, and pull it towards the edge of the roof. The kitten tried once more, but couldn’t overcome its vertigo. It scurried away into a hole, just underneath the outhouse’s roof. The mother cat was just about to go after her kitten…when she spotted me, holding my camera, in the sunroom.
For one hour she didn’t move. Frozen like a statue, she kept her eyes locked on me, in one iced-over glare from the rooftop. I was afraid to leave the house. She then raced to the ground, focusing her gaze upon me once more, only having it broken by another cat, a grey, striped cat. He must’ve been the father. I thought of it then. The two stray cats, doing their dirty business inside of our neighbour’s roof…producing a baby that couldn’t even leave the vicinity of two square meters, all around.
I warned Ken of the cats by phone. They were right beside the walkway to our house, and I was confident that they would be keeping a watchful eye on anyone passing by.
A couple days later, we left a peace offering at the bottom of the tree trunk – a dish of flakey tuna. The next day, it was licked empty.
- Jess
Friday, 28 May 2010
Ken’s Birthday!
My plans for Ken’s birthday were cancelled. Thanks to Seoul for being a hotspot for a North Korean attack, all weekend events that I had scheduled were turned to mush. I was trying to make the best of this ridiculous situation, so after school, I went shopping for some festivities.
As I was lugging home one bottle of red wine, one bottle of sparkling wine, nine large beers, a 2-litre jug of milk, and other groceries, I received a text from Ilana on my cell phone. Sounding ecstatic, she asked if Ken and I wanted to celebrate a birthday in Andong.
Completely oblivious about the text’s real meaning, I replied, ‘But, it’s Ken’s birthday today’. I was carrying litres and litres of liquid goodness…give me a break.
She soon texted back, ‘Of course I mean Ken’s birthday!’. So, through a series of texts and phone calls, Ken and I were on our way to the city of Andong to celebrate this glorious day that was Ken’s birthday.
***
A little uneasy from the bus ride, Ken and I opted for some kimbap for supper. To jump start our evening, a drunken man walked up to Ken, swaying from side to side, and asked for the rest of Ken’s kimbap. Trying to butter him up, the man exclaimed how honoured he felt to talk with a foreigner. After minutes of smelling the beer and soju waft off of the man’s breath and dirt-ridden clothes, Ken gave the man his kimbap, just smiling and nodding as he refused the man’s blackened, grimy hands.
We finally met up with Corey and Ilana, who had just finished doing a write-up on jjimdak (a popular Andong chicken dish). Tagging along were two of their friends, one who had befriended Corey after giving him a ride in his car, and the other, a newly made friend who was a random traveler from the Czech Republic.
All of us started towards our first event – bowling. It was going to be mine and Ken’s first time bowling in Andong. Our scores reflected our lack of practice at the sport, but we had a ton of laughs, nevertheless. Sometimes we were lacking bowling pins and at other times, bowling pins were blocking other ones from being renewed. Calling upon the bowling manager at every occurrence, we watched as he was eaten countless times by the bowling-pin-gobbler, climbing over and through the machines to reset our pins. Not to worry, he made it out alive, every time :).
After our series of gutterballs, and random spares and strikes, we headed downtown towards a fancy bar owned by the brother-in-law of Corey and Ilana’s friend. Downing enormous pitchers of Cass beer, macqueli (Korean rice wine) and bucheemgae (Korean pancake), the night was almost over.
What would a birthday be without a cake? Luckily, Ilana was able to whisk away into the night and return with a delectable chocolate chiffon cake from a Korean bakery. After firing the birthday poppers from the cake, we all sang Happy Birthday to the 23-year-old birthday boy, and dove into the delectable, creamy cake.
However, the night wasn’t over. Stopping by a 7 Eleven for some munchies, Corey, Ilana, their Czech friend, Ken and I bought an array of beer, from Hite, Cass, to Hoegarden. Situating ourselves on the top level of a beautiful pagoda, encasing an old, oxidized-green bell, we discussed the different views people had on the rising tensions between North Korea and South Korea, from the opinions of South Korean natives, to all foreigners alike, residing in South Korea. We put forth ideas for evacuation strategies and suggested possible travel routes across Korea for our Czech friend during these delicate times. It was a discussion topic that fueled itself, although not very fitting for the last couple hours of Ken’s birthday :). However, the night ended on such a good note, with all of us gazing out into the black abyss of the night, calmly taking in the cool breeze, sedated by the cool, crisp beer we had just consumed.
On behalf of me and Ken, I would like to thank Corey and Ilana for turning Ken’s day into an actual birthday celebration. You guys are the best :).
- Jess
As I was lugging home one bottle of red wine, one bottle of sparkling wine, nine large beers, a 2-litre jug of milk, and other groceries, I received a text from Ilana on my cell phone. Sounding ecstatic, she asked if Ken and I wanted to celebrate a birthday in Andong.
Completely oblivious about the text’s real meaning, I replied, ‘But, it’s Ken’s birthday today’. I was carrying litres and litres of liquid goodness…give me a break.
She soon texted back, ‘Of course I mean Ken’s birthday!’. So, through a series of texts and phone calls, Ken and I were on our way to the city of Andong to celebrate this glorious day that was Ken’s birthday.
***
A little uneasy from the bus ride, Ken and I opted for some kimbap for supper. To jump start our evening, a drunken man walked up to Ken, swaying from side to side, and asked for the rest of Ken’s kimbap. Trying to butter him up, the man exclaimed how honoured he felt to talk with a foreigner. After minutes of smelling the beer and soju waft off of the man’s breath and dirt-ridden clothes, Ken gave the man his kimbap, just smiling and nodding as he refused the man’s blackened, grimy hands.
We finally met up with Corey and Ilana, who had just finished doing a write-up on jjimdak (a popular Andong chicken dish). Tagging along were two of their friends, one who had befriended Corey after giving him a ride in his car, and the other, a newly made friend who was a random traveler from the Czech Republic.
All of us started towards our first event – bowling. It was going to be mine and Ken’s first time bowling in Andong. Our scores reflected our lack of practice at the sport, but we had a ton of laughs, nevertheless. Sometimes we were lacking bowling pins and at other times, bowling pins were blocking other ones from being renewed. Calling upon the bowling manager at every occurrence, we watched as he was eaten countless times by the bowling-pin-gobbler, climbing over and through the machines to reset our pins. Not to worry, he made it out alive, every time :).
After our series of gutterballs, and random spares and strikes, we headed downtown towards a fancy bar owned by the brother-in-law of Corey and Ilana’s friend. Downing enormous pitchers of Cass beer, macqueli (Korean rice wine) and bucheemgae (Korean pancake), the night was almost over.
What would a birthday be without a cake? Luckily, Ilana was able to whisk away into the night and return with a delectable chocolate chiffon cake from a Korean bakery. After firing the birthday poppers from the cake, we all sang Happy Birthday to the 23-year-old birthday boy, and dove into the delectable, creamy cake.
However, the night wasn’t over. Stopping by a 7 Eleven for some munchies, Corey, Ilana, their Czech friend, Ken and I bought an array of beer, from Hite, Cass, to Hoegarden. Situating ourselves on the top level of a beautiful pagoda, encasing an old, oxidized-green bell, we discussed the different views people had on the rising tensions between North Korea and South Korea, from the opinions of South Korean natives, to all foreigners alike, residing in South Korea. We put forth ideas for evacuation strategies and suggested possible travel routes across Korea for our Czech friend during these delicate times. It was a discussion topic that fueled itself, although not very fitting for the last couple hours of Ken’s birthday :). However, the night ended on such a good note, with all of us gazing out into the black abyss of the night, calmly taking in the cool breeze, sedated by the cool, crisp beer we had just consumed.
On behalf of me and Ken, I would like to thank Corey and Ilana for turning Ken’s day into an actual birthday celebration. You guys are the best :).
- Jess
Ken’s Birthday! (On Paper)
I had waited a whole month for this day. For weeks upon weeks, I tactfully and secretly scanned the upcoming weather in any Korean weather website I could find. My plan for Ken’s birthday was to be a masterpiece, painted to perfection from start to finish, with daytime events, nighttime events, transportation routes from one place to another, and a heck of a lot of food. I was so antsy for this day, especially since it was going to be a surprise.
Friday
We were to begin Ken’s birthday weekend on the Han riverside under the moonlight, nomnoming on some picnic goodies and sipping on drops of sparkling champagne. I had planned to pull out a crepe cake that I had made hours before, drizzled in layers of decadent chocolate ganache, just waiting to be licked off the fingers. I would sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, in the best voice I could, hoping that the thought would count, more than anything.
Saturday
I dedicated this weekend towards fun. I figured that this would be the one weekend where Ken and I could let loose.
The first event of the morning was to spend the day at the Seoul Racecourse Park. Since Ken and I aren’t avid gamblers, I researched and printed off a list of the race times, the fastest horses, the best jockeys of the season, how to bet, and how to collect winnings. Bet limits were from 100 won (10 cents) to 100,000 won (100 dollars). I took out 100,000 won from the ATM to prepare for how risky we were to feel that morning.
Inside the racecourse track, we were to walk the sunny paths laid out in between gardens, and perhaps, enjoy the children’s water park, set up for tired parents…
In the evening, I had planned a route from the Racecourse Park to the nationally famous rollercoaster theme park, Everland. Naturally, this item on the agenda was to let out Ken’s inner child (and mine) :).
The cherry on top of our night was to have dinner in the foreigner-friendly region, Itaewon. Since Ken and I don’t have a selection of any ethnic food in Andeok, I thought that a choice of Indian, Italian, Japanese, or any dish other than Korean would be a treat for this night.
***
Unfortunately, none of the above actually happened. We decided that Seoul was too unpredictable a place for this weekend, mainly due to the current tensions, caused by the Cheonan Incident, between North and South Korea, and the escalated rioting near the Seoul City Hall by Korean War veterans. We couldn’t risk setting aside North Korea’s threats of retaliation against the south, if South Korea continued to put blame on the north for the sinking of the Cheonan ship. It made us a little queasy to know that four North Korean war submarines had gone off-the-grid, and the U.S. and South Korea were aggressively searching for them. We didn’t want to be meandering around the heart of Seoul while South Korea was setting up anti-propaganda speakers along the DMZ, projected at the north. We took into consideration North Korea’s reaction of threatening to blast those anti-propaganda speakers into oblivion, which could commence the second Korean War…
It’s better to be safe than sorry, right?
- Jess
Friday
We were to begin Ken’s birthday weekend on the Han riverside under the moonlight, nomnoming on some picnic goodies and sipping on drops of sparkling champagne. I had planned to pull out a crepe cake that I had made hours before, drizzled in layers of decadent chocolate ganache, just waiting to be licked off the fingers. I would sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, in the best voice I could, hoping that the thought would count, more than anything.
Saturday
I dedicated this weekend towards fun. I figured that this would be the one weekend where Ken and I could let loose.
The first event of the morning was to spend the day at the Seoul Racecourse Park. Since Ken and I aren’t avid gamblers, I researched and printed off a list of the race times, the fastest horses, the best jockeys of the season, how to bet, and how to collect winnings. Bet limits were from 100 won (10 cents) to 100,000 won (100 dollars). I took out 100,000 won from the ATM to prepare for how risky we were to feel that morning.
Inside the racecourse track, we were to walk the sunny paths laid out in between gardens, and perhaps, enjoy the children’s water park, set up for tired parents…
In the evening, I had planned a route from the Racecourse Park to the nationally famous rollercoaster theme park, Everland. Naturally, this item on the agenda was to let out Ken’s inner child (and mine) :).
The cherry on top of our night was to have dinner in the foreigner-friendly region, Itaewon. Since Ken and I don’t have a selection of any ethnic food in Andeok, I thought that a choice of Indian, Italian, Japanese, or any dish other than Korean would be a treat for this night.
***
Unfortunately, none of the above actually happened. We decided that Seoul was too unpredictable a place for this weekend, mainly due to the current tensions, caused by the Cheonan Incident, between North and South Korea, and the escalated rioting near the Seoul City Hall by Korean War veterans. We couldn’t risk setting aside North Korea’s threats of retaliation against the south, if South Korea continued to put blame on the north for the sinking of the Cheonan ship. It made us a little queasy to know that four North Korean war submarines had gone off-the-grid, and the U.S. and South Korea were aggressively searching for them. We didn’t want to be meandering around the heart of Seoul while South Korea was setting up anti-propaganda speakers along the DMZ, projected at the north. We took into consideration North Korea’s reaction of threatening to blast those anti-propaganda speakers into oblivion, which could commence the second Korean War…
It’s better to be safe than sorry, right?
- Jess
Monday, 10 May 2010
Our Neighbour’s Fire Alarm
A couple of months ago, the incessant beeping began. It was originating from our next door neighbour’s home, and day and night, the noise never ceased, never slowed, never quieted down. We were so worried that we even called Aunt Kimchi to make a house call next door. After she visited our neighbour’s shack, the beeping stopped.
Recently, the beeping started up again. All we can hear is “beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep…” coming from next door. Aunt Kimchi thought nothing of the beeping when I called her and told me that the noise would pass. Obviously she wasn’t being exposed to the high-pitched sound piercing into the night.
Ken and I decided to take matters into our own hands.
(Our neighbour’s home is much like the traditional homes that Korea had in the 1950’s. With now crumbling concrete walls, a stick roof, and a ratty, wooden, gate-like door, we wonder how she makes it through each winter living inside her paper-thin walls.)
As we gently knocked on her door, we could literally see into her kitchen through the gaping cracks between the wooden planks of her door. Some of them had been filled in with old newspapers and pieces of cardboard. We could see a shadow lurking just beyond the crevices of her door.
She opened her door, and the cause of the repetitive noise was apparent. Her fire alarm was painfully beeping, not because of a fire, but simply because of the steam and smoke that was hovering over her dinner, bubbling on the stovetop. It was clear that she didn’t make an effort to turn the alarm off – it had been going for days on end, and someone had decided to install it a foot beyond her grasp. So, she let it run…while she cooked, slept, and went out.
I explained our unexpected presence, and she distressfully communicated that she couldn’t reach the fire detector, let alone figure out how to reset it.
As Ken slowly pulled the alarm off from the ceiling, he opened it up, and pulled out the battery. After several tries, we both realized that the reset button wasn’t working on the alarm and the only way to terminate the sound was to detach the battery from the unit every time it went off.
She refused to have the alarm installed in her bedroom, and opted to have it moved to her bathroom (an outdoor port-a-potty). I explained that the purpose of the fire alarm was to detect smoke, and that there would be no use for it by placing it in an open bathroom. She shrugged, and suggested other walls outside on which to attach it. After a few suggestions thrown around, she finally agreed on the kitchen (despite it being awfully drafty).
Ken installed the alarm on the wall (within her reach), and left the battery to dangle out of the bottom of the device for easy disconnection. He then explained to her how to disconnect and reconnect the battery (a difficult task for a woman of her age). It took a several tries and some assistance, but she finally got it.
***
(10 minutes later…)
Ken and I were heading out to the convenience store and had just reached the end of our driveway, when the utterly pestering beeping sounded again. We stood silently; waiting patiently for her to follow the steps we had taught her… After a few minutes, we gave up and decided to once again pay her a visit. We found her in the kitchen, thoroughly frustrated with the entire situation. She had decided to leave the alarm going again, and urged us to disconnect the battery and leave it alone. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Defeated, Ken and I suggested that she have a new one installed (hopefully with a working reset button), and prayed that she would take our advice.
There have been no new incidences…
- Jess
Recently, the beeping started up again. All we can hear is “beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep…” coming from next door. Aunt Kimchi thought nothing of the beeping when I called her and told me that the noise would pass. Obviously she wasn’t being exposed to the high-pitched sound piercing into the night.
Ken and I decided to take matters into our own hands.
(Our neighbour’s home is much like the traditional homes that Korea had in the 1950’s. With now crumbling concrete walls, a stick roof, and a ratty, wooden, gate-like door, we wonder how she makes it through each winter living inside her paper-thin walls.)
As we gently knocked on her door, we could literally see into her kitchen through the gaping cracks between the wooden planks of her door. Some of them had been filled in with old newspapers and pieces of cardboard. We could see a shadow lurking just beyond the crevices of her door.
She opened her door, and the cause of the repetitive noise was apparent. Her fire alarm was painfully beeping, not because of a fire, but simply because of the steam and smoke that was hovering over her dinner, bubbling on the stovetop. It was clear that she didn’t make an effort to turn the alarm off – it had been going for days on end, and someone had decided to install it a foot beyond her grasp. So, she let it run…while she cooked, slept, and went out.
I explained our unexpected presence, and she distressfully communicated that she couldn’t reach the fire detector, let alone figure out how to reset it.
As Ken slowly pulled the alarm off from the ceiling, he opened it up, and pulled out the battery. After several tries, we both realized that the reset button wasn’t working on the alarm and the only way to terminate the sound was to detach the battery from the unit every time it went off.
She refused to have the alarm installed in her bedroom, and opted to have it moved to her bathroom (an outdoor port-a-potty). I explained that the purpose of the fire alarm was to detect smoke, and that there would be no use for it by placing it in an open bathroom. She shrugged, and suggested other walls outside on which to attach it. After a few suggestions thrown around, she finally agreed on the kitchen (despite it being awfully drafty).
Ken installed the alarm on the wall (within her reach), and left the battery to dangle out of the bottom of the device for easy disconnection. He then explained to her how to disconnect and reconnect the battery (a difficult task for a woman of her age). It took a several tries and some assistance, but she finally got it.
***
(10 minutes later…)
Ken and I were heading out to the convenience store and had just reached the end of our driveway, when the utterly pestering beeping sounded again. We stood silently; waiting patiently for her to follow the steps we had taught her… After a few minutes, we gave up and decided to once again pay her a visit. We found her in the kitchen, thoroughly frustrated with the entire situation. She had decided to leave the alarm going again, and urged us to disconnect the battery and leave it alone. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Defeated, Ken and I suggested that she have a new one installed (hopefully with a working reset button), and prayed that she would take our advice.
There have been no new incidences…
- Jess
The Long Ride Home
I was returning home from Daegu. What was supposed to be an hour and a half bus ride to Andeok turned into a horrible, horrible experience.
I remember it well… Getting my bus ticket from the booth at the Dongbu (East Daegu) Bus Terminal felt like routine. I was greeted by the man sitting beside the turnstile, checking tickets. He immediately recognized me after past countless times of “Andeok? You mean Andong, right? Why do you want to go to Andeok?” This time, however, he just smiled, punched a hole through my flimsy ticket, and let me pass.
I was heading towards the bus that was labeled ‘Yeongcheon and Andong’ – my usual route. The driver, who was smoking a cigarette on the bench beside his bus, shouted to me, “Where are you going?” I shouted back, “Andeok! Not Andong…An-DEOK.” He nodded, yelled back a Yeeaah! (the Korean equivalent of yup) and I proceeded to get onto the bus.
The bus stopped first in Yeongcheon, which seemed normal to me. The bus I usually take always stops in Yeongcheon. I was satisfied that I didn’t have to stare out the window to make sure of where I was going…so I dozed off for a little bit.
When I opened my eyes, everything was fuzzy. For a few minutes, my eyes were glazed over and I couldn’t distinguish blur from blur outside the window. When I could finally make out the word MOTEL plastered on many of them, I started to get suspicious. Everything looked out of the ordinary. I glanced up at one tall building and thought that I saw the word Pohang in big, vibrant, blue letters. Shaking it off, I waited until I could see something that I recognized. I went over the securities I had set before I entered the bus – I had confirmed with the bus driver that I was heading towards Andeok and that the bus onto which I was boarding was labeled ‘Yeongcheon and Andong’.
The bus stopped. The bus driver started coming down the aisle, collecting tickets along the way. I handed him my ticket and he studied it intently. Then there was the shouting. The driver was screaming at me and I had no idea why. Of course, I found out seconds after the foam had disappeared from his mouth. This bus was directed towards ‘Yeongcheon, Pohang, and then to Andong’. I countered his screaming with the fact that I had confirmed my destination with him, twice. He didn’t listen. Frustrated, he continued down the aisle, until he had collected all of the tickets, went back to his seat, and continued driving.
Only a few minutes had passed when we stopped at the next bus station – Pohang. I was far east of my destination, an hour and fifteen minutes away from home, and the last bus to Andeok had left an hour earlier. As I exited the bus, he snatched my ticket from my hand and shooed me off of the bus. Thanks Mr. Bus Driver. You really screwed up my night.
Now, I could’ve stayed in Pohang for the night. I could’ve slept in a motel and enjoyed the luxuries of a moderately-sized city. But no. I wanted to be at home, relaxing with Ken and watching a movie.
As I was trying to reason with the women at the Pohang ticket booth, a bus moderator tried to help me with various routes that I could take back home. Each potential option was shot down by the women…it looked like I was stuck in Pohang.
However, the sweet old moderator grabbed my arm and wasn’t going to give up. He was determined to get me back to Andeok. He explained my situation to the manager of the bus terminal, I was soon swarmed by five men, all trying to find a solution to my predicament. I don’t know how they did it, but after twenty minutes of talking on their cell phones, they found one taxi driver who was willing to drive me to Andeok for 40,000 won ($40). I was flabbergasted that they had arranged this for me and I was also a little scared that a stranger was willing to drive me an hour and a half northward to Andeok.
The taxi ride wasn’t too bad, except for the eerie silence that lingered throughout the car. The mysterious darkness of the countryside and the vast emptiness of the farmlands kept me wide-awake for the entire duration of the trip. My hands were quivering, ready to strike at the eyes, or throat. My feet were shaking, ready to kick the groin of anyone coming too close to my personal bubble.
Luckily, I didn’t have to maim anyone. Except for the unforeseen situation where the driver tried to charge me 10,000 won more, I arrived home safely, learning my lesson to never put my trust in bus drivers again. This experience will not happen a second time around.
- Jess
I remember it well… Getting my bus ticket from the booth at the Dongbu (East Daegu) Bus Terminal felt like routine. I was greeted by the man sitting beside the turnstile, checking tickets. He immediately recognized me after past countless times of “Andeok? You mean Andong, right? Why do you want to go to Andeok?” This time, however, he just smiled, punched a hole through my flimsy ticket, and let me pass.
I was heading towards the bus that was labeled ‘Yeongcheon and Andong’ – my usual route. The driver, who was smoking a cigarette on the bench beside his bus, shouted to me, “Where are you going?” I shouted back, “Andeok! Not Andong…An-DEOK.” He nodded, yelled back a Yeeaah! (the Korean equivalent of yup) and I proceeded to get onto the bus.
The bus stopped first in Yeongcheon, which seemed normal to me. The bus I usually take always stops in Yeongcheon. I was satisfied that I didn’t have to stare out the window to make sure of where I was going…so I dozed off for a little bit.
When I opened my eyes, everything was fuzzy. For a few minutes, my eyes were glazed over and I couldn’t distinguish blur from blur outside the window. When I could finally make out the word MOTEL plastered on many of them, I started to get suspicious. Everything looked out of the ordinary. I glanced up at one tall building and thought that I saw the word Pohang in big, vibrant, blue letters. Shaking it off, I waited until I could see something that I recognized. I went over the securities I had set before I entered the bus – I had confirmed with the bus driver that I was heading towards Andeok and that the bus onto which I was boarding was labeled ‘Yeongcheon and Andong’.
The bus stopped. The bus driver started coming down the aisle, collecting tickets along the way. I handed him my ticket and he studied it intently. Then there was the shouting. The driver was screaming at me and I had no idea why. Of course, I found out seconds after the foam had disappeared from his mouth. This bus was directed towards ‘Yeongcheon, Pohang, and then to Andong’. I countered his screaming with the fact that I had confirmed my destination with him, twice. He didn’t listen. Frustrated, he continued down the aisle, until he had collected all of the tickets, went back to his seat, and continued driving.
Only a few minutes had passed when we stopped at the next bus station – Pohang. I was far east of my destination, an hour and fifteen minutes away from home, and the last bus to Andeok had left an hour earlier. As I exited the bus, he snatched my ticket from my hand and shooed me off of the bus. Thanks Mr. Bus Driver. You really screwed up my night.
Now, I could’ve stayed in Pohang for the night. I could’ve slept in a motel and enjoyed the luxuries of a moderately-sized city. But no. I wanted to be at home, relaxing with Ken and watching a movie.
As I was trying to reason with the women at the Pohang ticket booth, a bus moderator tried to help me with various routes that I could take back home. Each potential option was shot down by the women…it looked like I was stuck in Pohang.
However, the sweet old moderator grabbed my arm and wasn’t going to give up. He was determined to get me back to Andeok. He explained my situation to the manager of the bus terminal, I was soon swarmed by five men, all trying to find a solution to my predicament. I don’t know how they did it, but after twenty minutes of talking on their cell phones, they found one taxi driver who was willing to drive me to Andeok for 40,000 won ($40). I was flabbergasted that they had arranged this for me and I was also a little scared that a stranger was willing to drive me an hour and a half northward to Andeok.
The taxi ride wasn’t too bad, except for the eerie silence that lingered throughout the car. The mysterious darkness of the countryside and the vast emptiness of the farmlands kept me wide-awake for the entire duration of the trip. My hands were quivering, ready to strike at the eyes, or throat. My feet were shaking, ready to kick the groin of anyone coming too close to my personal bubble.
Luckily, I didn’t have to maim anyone. Except for the unforeseen situation where the driver tried to charge me 10,000 won more, I arrived home safely, learning my lesson to never put my trust in bus drivers again. This experience will not happen a second time around.
- Jess
Sunday, 25 April 2010
Mold! Mold! Mold!
Since we weren’t using the guest room all winter, we kept the door shut the whole time. Today we decided to do some spring cleaning, so I ventured inside to have a look.
Oh. My. God.
The back wall was completely covered in a combination of fuzzy mold and swarms of tiny bugs. It was straight out of a horror movie!
I almost vomited…
Jess immediately called Aunt Kimchi, and she came over right away. As soon as she arrived, she walked straight into the room to inspect the damage. She then tried to tell us that it was our fault for not keeping the heat on all winter (our gas already cost us $400 per month, so we kept the heating off in the unused room to save energy and money), but that it was completely harmless. She asked for a towel, and started scrubbing the walls as Jess and I watched in terror. Yes, she was able to take off most of the fuzzy mold, but in doing so she subsequently caused a “rainstorm” of tiny black bugs that fell to the floor. We stood in the doorway with shocked expressions plastered on our faces and watched the hoards of bugs scurrying around the room in a chaotic frenzy.
Jess almost vomited…
After what seemed like an eternity, Aunt Kimchi finally brought the mold-filled towel outside (dropping little bugs along the way) and walked home.
It was a tad difficult to sleep after all of that…
- Ken
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Planted!
All of our seeds have been planted in plastic containers and any extra cups that we could find around the house. We have to keep them in the sun room for now (we’re still getting the odd cold spells), but once they start sprouting, we’ll transfer them over to the garden.
Now all we can do is wait…
- Ken
Now all we can do is wait…
- Ken
Monday, 19 April 2010
The Seed Mix-Up
This morning I got in a bit of a “scuffle” with Aunt Kimchi about buying seeds. Jess called her after school, and cleared up what turned out to be just a big misunderstanding. I thought she was angry because I was going to use my seeds in her garden, but as it turns out, she was just angry because she already had seeds at her house and she didn’t want me to waste my money.
I’ll have to go bring her a carrot or something as a peace offering.
- Ken
I’ll have to go bring her a carrot or something as a peace offering.
- Ken
Buying Seeds
I know that Aunt Kimchi is just trying to help us out, but Jess and I really want to do some gardening ourselves. I just don’t think she understands the concept of “recreational gardening.” Either way, I headed off to the market today before school to pick up some seeds (for the other garden that she prepared for us). I found a “seed vendor” (a tiny old woman sitting next to a box filled with open seed packets) and used my phone to translate the scribbled labels. I picked out a few that I wanted (regular tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, radishes, carrots, broccoli, and watermelon), and she individually selected out seeds from the packets and folded them into tiny envelopes made from newspaper. As I paid for my seeds, I heard a loud, “Sunsaengnim!!!” from behind me. It was Aunt Kimchi. She ran up to me, and once again blasted her rapid-fire Korean in my face. I could tell she was really angry that I was buying seeds as she yelled at the seed lady to give me my money back. I kept saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay!” and she eventually calmed down. I then told her that my bus was coming, so she took me by the arm and we walked together to the bus stop. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait very long before the bus arrived. I’ll get Jess to call her when I get home.
- Ken
- Ken
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Aunt Kimchi’s Garden
When we showed up in August, there were two small gardens in front of our house. One of them had a few flower bushes, and the other was overgrown with patches of sesame leaves. Now that spring had arrived, Jess and I thought it would be fun to grow a few plants of our own. We called up Aunt Kimchi to ask if it was okay for us to use it, and she said, “Of course you can grow vegetables! If you don’t, what are you going to eat?”
The gardens weren’t exactly in the best shape for gardening (they were filled with weeds, garbage, and old bush stumps), so we went out and bought some gloves for the cleanup. We were both pretty excited about spending time working outside together, but unfortunately the weather wasn’t cooperating with us. Clouds moved in and the temperature dropped, so we decided to postpone our gardening until next weekend.
The rest of our day was spent isolated in our house with snacks and movies.
Later that evening, I left the house to pick up a few groceries. I immediately noticed something different about our garden. The stumps had been ripped out, the weeds had all been removed, and the soil had even been turned. It’s as if an army of gardeners had snuck onto our property and prepared the garden for us while we were watching movies. I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about the whole thing. One side of me was uncomfortable with the thought of a bunch of people working in our yard without us knowing about it, but the other side of me was grateful that we wouldn’t have to do the “dirty work” of getting the garden ready. As with most other oddities that have happened here in Korea, I just shrugged it off and continued to the store.
At around nine o’ clock at night, we heard shuffling noises from our front yard, followed by loud banging on our door. Dressed only in PJ pants and a hoodie, I answered. It was Aunt Kimchi, and she immediately started yelling in her rapid-fire-Korean, demanding a knife. She pushed her way into our entrance, and I beckoned her to stay there while I got one for her. I quickly ran to our kitchen and returned with a large butcher knife. She took it, turned back outside, and disappeared into the night.
Confused, I immediately turned on the outside lights, slipped on my shoes, and went after her. I found her at the far garden busily digging holes for the collection of plants she brought over from her house. Jess and I watched as she planted one of the gardens for us, and as much as we tried to tell her that we could do it ourselves, she insisted on doing all of the work on her own. When she was done, she said her goodbyes and disappeared into the night as quickly as she had arrived.
Well, I guess we have a garden now.
- Ken
The gardens weren’t exactly in the best shape for gardening (they were filled with weeds, garbage, and old bush stumps), so we went out and bought some gloves for the cleanup. We were both pretty excited about spending time working outside together, but unfortunately the weather wasn’t cooperating with us. Clouds moved in and the temperature dropped, so we decided to postpone our gardening until next weekend.
The rest of our day was spent isolated in our house with snacks and movies.
Later that evening, I left the house to pick up a few groceries. I immediately noticed something different about our garden. The stumps had been ripped out, the weeds had all been removed, and the soil had even been turned. It’s as if an army of gardeners had snuck onto our property and prepared the garden for us while we were watching movies. I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about the whole thing. One side of me was uncomfortable with the thought of a bunch of people working in our yard without us knowing about it, but the other side of me was grateful that we wouldn’t have to do the “dirty work” of getting the garden ready. As with most other oddities that have happened here in Korea, I just shrugged it off and continued to the store.
At around nine o’ clock at night, we heard shuffling noises from our front yard, followed by loud banging on our door. Dressed only in PJ pants and a hoodie, I answered. It was Aunt Kimchi, and she immediately started yelling in her rapid-fire-Korean, demanding a knife. She pushed her way into our entrance, and I beckoned her to stay there while I got one for her. I quickly ran to our kitchen and returned with a large butcher knife. She took it, turned back outside, and disappeared into the night.
Confused, I immediately turned on the outside lights, slipped on my shoes, and went after her. I found her at the far garden busily digging holes for the collection of plants she brought over from her house. Jess and I watched as she planted one of the gardens for us, and as much as we tried to tell her that we could do it ourselves, she insisted on doing all of the work on her own. When she was done, she said her goodbyes and disappeared into the night as quickly as she had arrived.
Well, I guess we have a garden now.
- Ken
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
The Worm in Our Bathroom
I had planned to take a pleasant shower this morning. I turned the boiler on, waited ten minutes for the shower water to heat up…and then I saw it - a squiggly little worm with a flat hammer-like head, inching its way along our bathroom wall underneath the window. Not knowing if it was poisonous or not, I debated squishing it with little bits of toilet paper, so I took some baking soda cleaning spray, and doused it with about 20 sprays of the stuff. It slowly curled, and moved as if it was in excruciating pain, and all I could do was debate as to whether I should touch it or not.
My problem was solved with about 3 tissues I folded over (just so I wouldn’t come into contact with it at all), and I slowly squished it into the tissue and disposed of it in the bathroom garbage. Done and done.
Later on in the day, while at school, I curiously searched the internet for the worm that had ruined my morning shower. I found it almost immediately. The worm that was in our bathroom…that little worm…was a hammerhead flatworm – one of the most indestructible worms in the world. You cut it half, and it regenerates…you cut it into ten pieces, and it regenerates into ten worms… Even if you squish it, it’ll regenerate into the number of pieces into which you happened to break it…Ken mentioned to me that a scientist in Europe had managed to divide one worm into 271 pieces…gross. The only way to destroy one of these pests is to dissolve it in some kind of acid.
I’ve decided to burn it. Burn the entire lot of worms…or whatever comes creeping out of our garbage can. That’ll work, right?
Ken’s so fascinated that he wants to keep one as a pet…
- Jess
My problem was solved with about 3 tissues I folded over (just so I wouldn’t come into contact with it at all), and I slowly squished it into the tissue and disposed of it in the bathroom garbage. Done and done.
Later on in the day, while at school, I curiously searched the internet for the worm that had ruined my morning shower. I found it almost immediately. The worm that was in our bathroom…that little worm…was a hammerhead flatworm – one of the most indestructible worms in the world. You cut it half, and it regenerates…you cut it into ten pieces, and it regenerates into ten worms… Even if you squish it, it’ll regenerate into the number of pieces into which you happened to break it…Ken mentioned to me that a scientist in Europe had managed to divide one worm into 271 pieces…gross. The only way to destroy one of these pests is to dissolve it in some kind of acid.
I’ve decided to burn it. Burn the entire lot of worms…or whatever comes creeping out of our garbage can. That’ll work, right?
Ken’s so fascinated that he wants to keep one as a pet…
- Jess
Friday, 9 April 2010
Double Date in Andong – The Sequel
We had been putting our double date off for weeks now. Corey, Ilana, Ken and I had been sick (thanks to our hoarsely coughing students) on the weekends leading up to this one. There was absolutely nothing that could possibly stand in our way this weekend – Ken and I were going to travel to Andong no matter what infectious diseases would happen to stand in our way.
We started off our evening with a classic American blockbuster Clash of the Titans. We comfortably sat back in our seats for two hours, eating our sticky caramel popcorn and drinking our brown swamp water, laughing at…I mean with the overly stern characters of the movie.
With the adrenaline high we built up during the movie, we decided that the night wasn’t over. Meeting up with some more of Andong’s finest EPIK English teachers, we drank our conscience away with sips of blueberry flavoured macgueli (South Korea’s rice wine) and strawberry, kiwi, and pineapple flavoured soju. Dangerous stuff. It went down like water.
Luckily the next morning, the four of us weren’t plagued with headaches or migraines. In fact, we enjoyed our alcohol-induced state so much, that we planned a spur of the moment picnic at the Andong Dam, complete with two bottles of red wine, one bottle of sparkling wine, two types of real cheeses, and a full box of succulent, ripe, ruby strawberries. Needless to say, our walk back to the downtown area was more like a blissful stumble, I mean stroll along the Andong river. The feathery breeze was soothing and the warm sun was shining brightly, almost blindingly, down upon us. Thank-goodness the sidewalk was wide enough for the four of us, as we supported each other to look as composed as any normal person should be out in public. It was a delightful afternoon.
I guess we couldn’t get enough of each other, because once we reached the bustling streets of the downtown area, we invited them over to our home in Andeok for a relaxing night in the countryside.
I was antsy all night. It was too bad for me that the boys had been building up this night for months. It began when Ken and I were both having a string of hauntings all around us…in our home and even in motel rooms…and they escalated after we watched the movie Paranormal Activity. Despite my warnings, Ken was so excited to show Corey and Ilana the film that he even got Corey excited about having a séance to bring forth the disturbed spirit that was haunting me and Ken. Ilana and I agreed to protect ourselves in a circle of salt.
After many bottles of mind-numbing Hite (a Korean beer) and two bags of salty, spicy chips, we all agreed to skip out on the séance…the movie had scared us into a heightened sense of fear and anxiousness and some of us were kept up all night under the covers with our eyes wide open. Needless to say, it was a long night.
We never know what to expect when we’re all together. I’m antsy to see what’ll happen on our next double-date.
- Jess
We started off our evening with a classic American blockbuster Clash of the Titans. We comfortably sat back in our seats for two hours, eating our sticky caramel popcorn and drinking our brown swamp water, laughing at…I mean with the overly stern characters of the movie.
With the adrenaline high we built up during the movie, we decided that the night wasn’t over. Meeting up with some more of Andong’s finest EPIK English teachers, we drank our conscience away with sips of blueberry flavoured macgueli (South Korea’s rice wine) and strawberry, kiwi, and pineapple flavoured soju. Dangerous stuff. It went down like water.
Luckily the next morning, the four of us weren’t plagued with headaches or migraines. In fact, we enjoyed our alcohol-induced state so much, that we planned a spur of the moment picnic at the Andong Dam, complete with two bottles of red wine, one bottle of sparkling wine, two types of real cheeses, and a full box of succulent, ripe, ruby strawberries. Needless to say, our walk back to the downtown area was more like a blissful stumble, I mean stroll along the Andong river. The feathery breeze was soothing and the warm sun was shining brightly, almost blindingly, down upon us. Thank-goodness the sidewalk was wide enough for the four of us, as we supported each other to look as composed as any normal person should be out in public. It was a delightful afternoon.
I guess we couldn’t get enough of each other, because once we reached the bustling streets of the downtown area, we invited them over to our home in Andeok for a relaxing night in the countryside.
I was antsy all night. It was too bad for me that the boys had been building up this night for months. It began when Ken and I were both having a string of hauntings all around us…in our home and even in motel rooms…and they escalated after we watched the movie Paranormal Activity. Despite my warnings, Ken was so excited to show Corey and Ilana the film that he even got Corey excited about having a séance to bring forth the disturbed spirit that was haunting me and Ken. Ilana and I agreed to protect ourselves in a circle of salt.
After many bottles of mind-numbing Hite (a Korean beer) and two bags of salty, spicy chips, we all agreed to skip out on the séance…the movie had scared us into a heightened sense of fear and anxiousness and some of us were kept up all night under the covers with our eyes wide open. Needless to say, it was a long night.
We never know what to expect when we’re all together. I’m antsy to see what’ll happen on our next double-date.
- Jess
Thursday, 8 April 2010
A Korean Funeral
I had never been to a funeral before. It’s not because I purposely avoided them, rather, I have been fortunate enough not to have lost a close friend or family member. Today marked the breaking of my “funeral-less” life.
I walked into school today to find everyone dressed in black and donning tiny ribbons. The founder of Bunam Middle School had passed away the night before, ending his lengthy battle with liver cancer. He was the founder of our school, and worked as the school Principal for many years before handing the position over to his son (our current Principal). Without him, I wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to work in this community and experience the unique culture of rural Korea.
After class, Mrs. Jeon and I drove to Cheongsong to attend the funeral. It was held in a small community hall directly beside the hospital where he had passed away. His position within the community meant that his funeral attracted more than just family and friends. People from all parts of the community, from the store-owners to laborers, were in attendance to pay their respects.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the food. I should’ve expected it now that I’m familiar with Korean customs, but it still took me by surprise. There were tables upon tables of food being waited upon by several busy workers. The funeral had a “revolving door” type feel to it, with people coming and going as they pleased. Across the dining area was a small room with his coffin placed against the wall under his picture. Groups of ten to fifteen people took turns entering the room, facing his coffin for a brief moment of silence, then bowing in unison. Two family members remained in the room at all times to exchange a few words with people before the next group entered. Immediately outside of the small room was our school administrator who was put in charge of handling the donations for the family. I donated 30 000 Won (~ $ 25.00 CAD), and was handed a small envelope containing a 10 000 Won bill (~ $8.00 CAD) as a token of thanks.
Following the prayers and the donations, Mrs. Jeon and I sat down at one of the tables for dinner, and she explained to me the sequence of events for the funeral. There had been a “wake” the night before, but only close friends and relatives were allowed to attend and help with the grieving process. Today was the community “banquet,” which is held for the purpose of celebrating his life. The celebration is to help uplift the spirits of the grieving family using the pleasantries of food, drinks, laughter, and friends. Tomorrow, his coffin will be driven to the gates of Bunam Middle school, and his picture will be carried around the playground in front of the school population. The staff and students will then say their final goodbyes, and the coffin will be driven to the site of his tomb (accompanied only by family members), down the street from the school.
All in all, the whole funeral process wasn’t as depressing as I thought to would be. The energy of the banquet was definitely uplifting, and aside from a few tearful family members, everyone who attended maintained very positive demeanors throughout the entire event. I really enjoyed the “celebrate life” mentality over the “mourn death” mentality, and I can only hope that my funeral will be as uplifting for my family and friends.
- Ken
I walked into school today to find everyone dressed in black and donning tiny ribbons. The founder of Bunam Middle School had passed away the night before, ending his lengthy battle with liver cancer. He was the founder of our school, and worked as the school Principal for many years before handing the position over to his son (our current Principal). Without him, I wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to work in this community and experience the unique culture of rural Korea.
After class, Mrs. Jeon and I drove to Cheongsong to attend the funeral. It was held in a small community hall directly beside the hospital where he had passed away. His position within the community meant that his funeral attracted more than just family and friends. People from all parts of the community, from the store-owners to laborers, were in attendance to pay their respects.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the food. I should’ve expected it now that I’m familiar with Korean customs, but it still took me by surprise. There were tables upon tables of food being waited upon by several busy workers. The funeral had a “revolving door” type feel to it, with people coming and going as they pleased. Across the dining area was a small room with his coffin placed against the wall under his picture. Groups of ten to fifteen people took turns entering the room, facing his coffin for a brief moment of silence, then bowing in unison. Two family members remained in the room at all times to exchange a few words with people before the next group entered. Immediately outside of the small room was our school administrator who was put in charge of handling the donations for the family. I donated 30 000 Won (~ $ 25.00 CAD), and was handed a small envelope containing a 10 000 Won bill (~ $8.00 CAD) as a token of thanks.
Following the prayers and the donations, Mrs. Jeon and I sat down at one of the tables for dinner, and she explained to me the sequence of events for the funeral. There had been a “wake” the night before, but only close friends and relatives were allowed to attend and help with the grieving process. Today was the community “banquet,” which is held for the purpose of celebrating his life. The celebration is to help uplift the spirits of the grieving family using the pleasantries of food, drinks, laughter, and friends. Tomorrow, his coffin will be driven to the gates of Bunam Middle school, and his picture will be carried around the playground in front of the school population. The staff and students will then say their final goodbyes, and the coffin will be driven to the site of his tomb (accompanied only by family members), down the street from the school.
All in all, the whole funeral process wasn’t as depressing as I thought to would be. The energy of the banquet was definitely uplifting, and aside from a few tearful family members, everyone who attended maintained very positive demeanors throughout the entire event. I really enjoyed the “celebrate life” mentality over the “mourn death” mentality, and I can only hope that my funeral will be as uplifting for my family and friends.
- Ken
Training for the Daegu Marathon
I’m setting no limits. I’m going to push myself until my knees give out.
That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking ever since my first run three days ago. Ten kilometers of running in a day, out of the blue, is taking a major toll on my body, which is exactly what I’m experiencing now. My knees lock every time I stand up from sitting down. It pains me to crouch down in order to put a plug into an outlet...but it’s all worth it, just to run into the middle of nowhere, and come sprinting back feeling alive.
Of course I wouldn’t have started running if it weren’t for the Daegu International Marathon. It’s quite a goal to have begun training for it, considering that I was walking from the living room into the kitchen everyday for three five months, and now I’ve progressed to run ten kilometers outdoors.
Ken was able to map out a 9.8-kilometer run through several of Andeok’s villages. Jogging along one stretch of open road, I could see the ivory and lavender cherry blossoms coming into bloom, smell the earthy tones from freshly cut logs, watch the farmers fertilizing their land, avoid the tiny countryside dogs nipping at my feet, and be weary of the larger dogs eyeing me, merely tied to a post by a simple rope.
Aside from the farmers burning their crops and garbage on my first run, it was incomparable to the splendid sun, melting into the horizon, and the refreshing wind, swooping down from the mountainside.
I can’t wait to go out for another run. I just have to wait for my body to heal…
…another week should do it.
- Jess
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