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The blog is dead. Long live the blog.

Wed, 9 Feb 2011 22:48:54 -0500

A return home, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, new jobs--a lot of time has passed since we last blogged and over that time we’ve blogged exactly zero times. Did leaving Korea quash our inspiration? We think not. But we are still trying to figure out exactly what to do with the site. And once we do sort it out, in the coming weeks we’ll start rolling out a few changes and updates. Anything you’d like to see from us here or read about? Please comment below. And hey, thanks mannoverboarders for not giving up on us.

Your constitution and bill of health

Sat, 27 Nov 2010 10:17:41 -0500

Last week we took a look at how Koreans like to ascribe character traits to someone based simply on their blood type. This week, we’ll explore how traditional Korean medicine goes a step further in defining an individual based on their overall body type, or physical constitution. The theory of “Sasang Constitutional Medicine” claims that all people fall into one of four categories of body type. Based on these body types, we can understand a person’s personality, predict their ideal career path, recommend a diet, and even diagnose yet to occur illnesses. The question you must be asking yourself is, is this system more or less hokey than that blood-type nonsense? I’ll let you judge for yourself:

Tae-yangin: the reckless genius
Tae-yangin body types are defined by their “big and round head, short jaw, and small eyes. Generally, the stature is upright but the lower body and the back are weak compared to the upper body. The body is generally slim and give others a smart look with eyes”. These individuals are “smart, decisive, progressive, heroic and proud”. They are creative, like to criticize others, but are self-centered. “Great inventors, strategists or revolutionaries like Napoleon Bonaparte, Vladimir Lenin, and Adolf Hitler were Tae-yangin”. Tae-yangin males “have no interest in the household. The females of this type have strong desire to protect their families but due to their weak lower body, they are unable to stand up for a long period of time making it hard for them to do housework”. Tae-yangin types should have “simple and fresh foods like spinach, cherries, and duck. They should avoid foods like “radish, ginger, and beef. If they get sick, medication of almost any kind tends to have little effect”. Thankfully, they constitute only about 1-5% of the population.

So-yangin: the common type
So-yangin body types are the most common, making up nearly 50% of all people. People of this body type “have positive expressions. Their chin is pointed, the mouth is not too big and the lips are thin. The eyes are especially very sharp”. Other physical descriptions are more confusing: “the upper body is weaker compared to the lower body and legs are thin. There are hardly any over-weighted people and the area around the chest is well developed (?)”. “They always focus on the distance when walking”. In terms of personality, So-yangin types are known for being “outgoing, polite, witty and have a quick sense of judgement”. I also found this rather odd, and contradictory, nugget of info: “One of the peculiarities of the So-yangin is a rather large sexual appetite in spite of weak kidney function. They expend a lot of energy thinking about sex and tend to suffer from love sickness. Some examples of this constitutional type are Bill Clinton or Marilyn Monroe.” People of this type, due to a developed stomach track, can eat nearly anything. However, if they develop stomach problems, the issues can become severe. “Therefore, it is advisable to minimize intake of hot-character food, such as chicken, goat, eel, potatoes or sweet potatoes”. (Who knew that eel was “hot-character food”??)

Tae-umin: the politician
People of this type have a “persistent and pushy personality and have the temperament of a politician or businessman”. The Tae-umin seems “gentle in appearance, but is wicked and treacherous in mind”, and never shares his true opinions. A physical description of the Tae-umin type is equally flattering: “the shape of the face is oval, and eyes, nose and the mouth are generally flabby”. The praise continues: “In case of females, they have no figure ... Most of them have a dignified presence and look virtuous but beautiful women are rare. In winter, their hands and feet get easily chapped.” People of this type tend to indulge, particularly in food and drink. “Often they eat and drink so much that they become corpulent. However, compared to the So-yangin who gain weight disproportionately in the upper trunk and stomach (with weaker-looking legs), the Tae-umin gain weight more proportionally in the middle and lower parts of the trunk, the waist, and also the legs”. Their lungs and skin are weak, and they are prone to excessive perspiration, hives, and asthma. Naturally, Tae-umin types should eat beans, milk, radish, and grapes. When sick, they should be treated with “deer antler, snake’s bird (??), and rhubarb”. Winston Churchill and Kim Jong-il are famous Tae-umin types.

So-umin: the philosopher
“So-umin is a man of few words”. They are “are very sensitive, precise and detail-oriented, and they pursue tasks in a logical fashion”. So-umin types are bright and polite, but are “always insecure, quickly jealous, and get hurt easily by small things”. They are identified by their small physique, weak upper bodies, and stubby legs. Their eyes “tend to be small, sad, and/or feeble-looking, as though they have just been weeping”. Consequently, they are ideally suited “to be educators, monks, scholars or clerks”. They have chronic stomach problems. “They usually eat small meals and can be quite picky at the table. Cold dishes like ice-cream, milk, or beer often result in diarrhea”. So-umin types should stick to eating chicken, rice, onion, and garlic, and should treat illness with ginseng, cinnamon, and red beans. Poor them, Abraham Lincoln and Prince Charles are a couple notable So-umins.

You may not be surprised to hear that when researching these body types, the two or three sources I consulted frequently contradicted each other and themselves. In one paragraph they would say that a So-umin is quick and decisive, while the next would say they are methodical and laboringly slow decision-makers. While the blood type system is referenced frequently in daily conversation with average Koreans, people say less about the body type classification. However, when you visit a traditional Korean doctor or pharmacist, questions about your body type will always arise. In some ways, this system is the basis for tradition Eastern medicine. Think about that the next time you’re considering acupuncture for your bum knee...

The four types of people

Wed, 17 Nov 2010 06:55:07 -0500

M: I must admit, even though I try to avoid stereotyping someone based on, say, where they live, I fall prey to this trap and sometimes judge a person before I really get to know them. For example, in college we always kind of teased the Jersey kids. No, not for being from America’s industrial wasteland (although I think the term “armpit” came up every now and then), but rather because at 18 and 19 years old, most of them had no clue how to pump their own gas! (After getting married, I learned that Oregon kids were also raised not knowing how to pump their own gas. Sorry in-laws!) And yes, even I will acknowledge that although I love my native New England and its lobster rolls and white clam pizza, we get needled for being, well, snobby...

Forget simple stereotypes though, because in Korea your whole personality--your entire being--can be summed up in some rather bizarre ways. Namely, through blind faith in one of a couple pseudo-scientific, Eastern medicine meets Briggs-Meyers, personality classification systems. One such system categorizes people based on a their blood type, while another system uses a person’s body shape. The body shape to personality connection I'll explore in another posting. But, I will say that if you have broad shoulders and a slimmer lower half, you may find it uncomfortable to stand or walk for long periods of time, and you may also eat a lot of vegetables. For now though, let’s take a closer look at how your blood type defines you.

Unlucky you may not have known this, but your blood type--A, B, AB or O--automatically characterizes you as one of four certain types of people. These systems, which are widely accepted in Korea (and in Japan, where folks seems as dogmatic as Koreans in their trust of this system) go so far to say what job is best for you, what food you should eat, how you will react in certain situations, and what type (also blood, of course) of person is best matched for you. I, not believing that smart, sane, modern, young Koreans could truly believe in this, asked a few of our friends about the blood type system and was stunned to learn they think there's something to it. When questioned how only four possible types of blood could describe an entire country's personalities (not to mention the rest of the world), my Korean friends just smiled and provided more examples of how their friends' blood types matched their personalities. Here's a rundown of what they believe your blood type says about you:

Type A
"People with blood type A have a deep-rooted strength that helps them stay calm in a crisis when everyone else is panicking. However, they tend to avoid confrontation, and feel very uncomfortable around people. A types are shy and sometimes withdrawn. They seek harmony and are very polite, but all the same feel that they never really fit in with others. A types are very responsible. If there is a job to be done, they prefer to take care of it themselves. These people crave success and are perfectionists. They are also very creative, and the most artistic of all the blood types, most likely because of their sensitivity". Apparently A types are the most desirable male partners.

Type B
"People with blood type B are the most practical of the blood groups. They are specialists in what they do. When they start a project, they spend extra time understanding and trying to follow directions than others might. When they are doing something, all of their attention is focused on it. They tend to stick to a goal and follow it through to the end, even if it seems impossible. They tend to be less than cooperative, as they like to follow their own rules and their own ideas. They are individualists. B type people pay attention to their thoughts a little more than their feelings, and therefore can sometimes seem cold and serious". B types, though not too common, supposedly make for great female (though not male) companions.

Type O
"People with blood type O people are outgoing, energetic and social. They are the most flexible of the blood types. They easily start up projects but often have trouble following through because they give up easily. They are flighty and not too dependable. O types always say what's on their mind. They value the opinion of others and like to be the center of attention. Also, people with O blood are extremely self-confident". Overall, Koreans seems to see this as the best blood type to have.
Restaurant menu based on blood type
Type AB
"People with blood type AB are hard to categorize. They can have characteristics on both ends of the spectrum at the same time. For instance, they are both shy and outgoing. They easily switch from one opposite to another. AB people are trustworthy and responsible, but can't handle it when too much is asked of them. They don't mind doing favors or helping out, as long as its on their own conditions. People with this blood type are interested in art and metaphysics." To many people, this is the least desirable blood type to have.

I pity those poor ABs out there who are constantly having to defend themselves when meeting new people or applying for a job (yes, duh, they often put their blood type on their resume). I wonder how they break the mold? If there is one thing I learned during my time here in Korea, it’s that fighting the system is far worse than just accepting it. So what the hell, I'm B+ and proud of it. And no, I'm not putting it on my resume--yet! Anyone out there feel as if, based on the above descriptions, the appropriate blood is pumping through their veins? Share below. And be ready to be judged for it :-)

This Hyundai brakes for folk villages...

Sat, 6 Nov 2010 20:03:46 -0400

I wish I had a great excuse why we haven’t been blogging more recently. Yes, we’ve been busy studying for a huge Korean language exam called the TOPIK; we’ve been running around Busan trying to see every place we talked about visiting but never did; we have spent many evenings simultaneously catching up with and saying goodbye to friends as our time here winds down. But surely there is some better reason why we’ve been so absent? No, not really. Though I will pretend it is because of the road trips we keep taking.

Once the weather began to cool down in early October or so, Min and I have been on the road in one rented Hyundai after another. Though Korea is small (very small) and seemingly easy to get around, horrible traffic on main highways keeps one from wanting to venture too far from home. A punctilious few of you may remember that last winter we headed up to Korea’s ancient cultural capital, Gyeongju. We hit the big sites on that trip, which in Asia inevitably means one temple after another. This time, we thought we would try something different and plan the trip around a local festival. (Full disclosure, the trip was actually planned around a meal. The shabu-shabu at the Japanese restaurant in the Gyeongju Hilton is worth the flight from the States, let alone a three-hour drive from Busan.)

The Andong International Mask Festival was in full swing in the beginning of October and we’d heard from Korean friends that it was a festival not to be missed. We left Busan mid-morning, and after delays getting across Busan and more construction delays on the highway, we got to the Andong area, just 100 miles or so away, in the early afternoon. There is a small 14th century folk village called Hahoe a few miles outside Andong city and for some inexplicable reason I had it in my head that that’s where the festival would take place. After arriving at the visitors center, having lunch, and riding the bus from the visitors center into the village itself, we realized this was the wrong place for the festival. But what a nice wrong place it was. The village, though preserved as a sort of museum and open to the public, is still a living, working village. On Hahoe’s twisting lanes you pass packs of Chinese tourists, local elders who have lived in the village for generations, Korean children on school trips, and famers riding on bikes, tractors, and in Kia Bongos.

We spent a few lovely hours wandering around Hahoe before finally driving to Andong itself to see the festival. As it was now evening, and we were perhaps two hours from our hotel and its shabu-shabu, we decided on the expedited tour of the festival. In about 35 minutes we took in some traditional mask dancing, mask making, mask painting, and the ubiquitous, but not at all related, Dokdo propaganda (Koreans are forever telling Westerns, each other, and especially Japanese, how the Dokdo islands are theirs and not Japan’s. Strangely, we learned after months of listening to all this that Korea actually controls the islands, so we’re not sure what the fuss is about. Would this not be like the US protesting, agitating, and reminding Mexico at every moment of diplomacy that Texas is ours, dammit!) Anyway, the festival was fine, and interesting, but rushing back for shabu-shabu was well worth it.

The next morning, we decided to head off to see another folk village, somewhat confusingly named Yangdong, to see how it compared to Hahoe (confusing only because Hahoe is in Andong, and Yangdong, often misspelled Yandong, is in Gyeongju. Are you confused? Good.). Both villages are UNESCO World Heritage Sites which doesn’t mean much to most North Americans who are used to buildings from the 1950s passing as “historical”. In Northeast Asia, such designation is hugely important to the tourist trade. I feared that we would be a little “folk villaged out” visiting Yangdong, but indeed we found this village to be more pleasant than the first. It was even less busy, more traditional, more lived-in, and more relaxing than Hahoe. We spent most of the morning strolling up and down hilly Yangdong before driving a few miles to see the Confucian academy at Oksan and take in a delicious lunch of mountain vegetable bibimbap.

To get a feel for what these locations are like, please check out the “fall road trip” photo album. I believe that our pictures do a better job and representing these villages than I can with words. Besides, all the descriptions I’ve read of Hahoe and Yangdong, from guidebooks to travelogues, appropriately focus on the villages’ history. But they are missing what we enjoyed most about the villages: their rural, unspoilt, and peaceful atmosphere.

Getting French in Korea

Sun, 17 Oct 2010 01:24:02 -0400

M: I cannot believe it's been 10 months since we moved to Busan. Time really does fly! Despite having lived here for almost a year, there are some things that I am still learning about Korean culture and Korean people. Prior to coming here I definitely had certain expectations and preconceived notions about Korea, some of which have changed after living here, and some of which have been confirmed after interacting with the locals.

However, my latest trip to the nail salon downstairs in our building confounded my understanding of “Korea” even more. As Rob and I were preparing for our big trip back to America to celebrate his brother's five-year vow renewal in Maui (see previous blog entry), I thought it would be nice to get a manicure and pedicure. Who wants shaggy cuticles when they're on vacation?? So I settle myself into the massage pedi chair and ask for color on my toes and a French manicure on my hands. Easy enough, right? Apparently not for Korean nail stylists. The next 20 minutes or so I was barraged with questions about what I wanted for my pedicure. Did I want a scrub on my feet? Did I want to have my feet soaking in the tub? Was it important that they cut my cuticles in one way or another? I never knew there were so many questions one could be asked when getting a pedicure. Clearly, when locals get a pedicure, the idea of relaxing with a book or taking a quick nap while your feet get massaged and moisturized, is not the experience they crave.

And, as the time went on, it became more clear that they had no idea what a French or (Puh-ren-chi) manicure was. Ten minutes into my pedicure, the girl looked up and asked me what color a French manicure was. I tried my best to explain in my school-learned Korean, that a French manicure was with a white line at the tip, and typically was a clear coat on top. (Although, when I get my nails done I typically prefer a pink coat on top rather than the boring old clear color.) However, since it was evident that the nail stylist here was having a hard time coming to grips with just a white line and clear color, I figured it was safer to just leave pink and all the other custom options off the table. After I requested my clear coat with white tips, she crinkled her nose a bit and ran over to the color selection before returning with a bottle of nail polish that said simply, "French Manicure”. She thought that if she just used this “color” it was considered a French Manicure. Seriously?

I'll spare you the details of the rest of my visit, painful as it was. However, I do wonder where the disconnect is between Korean nail stylists in Korea and how, when, and where they learn this art of doing nails between here and America. When a girl books her one-way ticket to America is there a special nail salon in the back galley where she’s taught how to shape, trim, and clean nails? I will admit that my nail experience here was really a wake-up. Before coming to Korea I figured two things would be easy to get - great hairstyling, as they are used to cutting and styling Korean hair, and fantastically done nails, as who could argue that the best nail stylists in America are usually Korean. Or are the nail girls back home really Vietnamese? Don’t think “we” can always tell the difference either... Oh well, one out of two odds aren't that bad. I guess i'll just have to wait patiently until we are back in DC for a good, relaxing, and quality manicure!

Back off the wagon in Hawaii

Sat, 2 Oct 2010 20:45:06 -0400

Less than three months ago, I wrote about how I’d discovered the beauty of the true “beach vacation” while in Bali. I talked about how after years of working myself to death on vacations that were long on activities but short on relaxation, I’d finally learned how enjoyable doing nothing could be. Well, I’m sorry to report that I have regressed. An island van tour, three snorkeling outings, a helicopter ride, a half-day boat trip, a wedding, 62.5 holes of golf, and a luau later (in five and a half days), it appears I’m off the calm-vacation-wagon. How did this happen?

The truth is, this trip was largely a combination of my exuberant ideas and my brother’s already very packed itinerary (and he’s even worse at relaxing than I am). As the purpose of the trip was to attend my brother and sister-in-law’s vow renewal, we knew there would be plenty of organized activities and events to attend. A smart travel planner would have used the time outside the events to relax by the pool or beach, umbrella drink in hand, working on nothing but a tan. But smart traveler I am not, and thus our trip was a busy one.

The good news? We had a wonderful and memorable week. As is perhaps documented better by our photos, the vow renewal ceremony was intimate, fun, and gorgeously set on the beach. The golf was awesome, not just for the quality of the courses (you must play Kapalua’s Plantation Course if on Maui) but for the quality of time spent with my brother. A sailing/snorkeling trip with family and the other “wedding” guests was another highlight. We ate plenty of good meals and even squeezed in time for a few mai-tais. The day before we left, Min and I took a half-day tour to Hana on the western side of the island, returning by helicopter. Our pilot was supposed to take us up over the Haleakala volcanic crater--which was the one thing Min wanted to see--but weather prevented flying to such elevation. The ride was memorable nonetheless, as we swooped over waterfalls and Maui’s dramatic coastline.

So perhaps Bali was a fluke? I can’t lie, this was “vacation” more as I know it. Getting up before 6:00am on all mornings but one, busy till dinner time, and falling asleep before 10:00pm from the combination of too much sun and rum.

Beard Papa vs. Lord Stow

Wed, 8 Sep 2010 09:08:44 -0400

Long is the list of westerners who have moved to Asia and lost weight faster than their ability to speak proper English. With largely healthy diets in places like Korea, Japan, and most of China, it’s not surprising that Americans and many Europeans look down at their bellies and discover after only a few months over here there’s less to look at. But worry not my lard, butter, and french fry loving compatriots, I’ve found a solution. Enter our saviors: Beard Papa and Lord Stow.

Super Heroes? A Santa-look-a-like and an English nobleman? No, just a couple of bakers. Well, sort of. Beard Papa is the very strange name of a chain of bakeries that specialize in a version of the French pastry, pate a choux. The closest equivalent back home would be the lowly cream puff. Over here, they are much more celebrated. They are as simple as they are delicious: a warm choux pastry, stuffed with cold pudding or cream filling. With high quality choux, like Beard Papas, one can even see the flecks of vanilla bean in the filling (see photo below). When bitten into, they burst with cool creamy goodness. What on earth, you may wonder, do such pastries have to do with Korea? I first discovered these pastries not while traveling in France but while living in rural Japan, where, not coincidentally, Beard Papa’s is based. I had completely forgotten about how good choux cream, as they’re known here, could be until a few months ago when I saw them at our favorite mall. Since then, I’ve been stuffing myself regularly. If you’re not lucky enough to live near a Beard Papa’s location, don’t worry, they’re simple to make. I’ll even link a recipe here.

Lord Stow’s story is similarly a little confusing. The name refers to a company, started by an Englishman in Macau, and also called Andrew’s Egg Tarts, that specializes in, yes, egg tarts. Egg tarts are similar to English custard tarts, though Wikipedia notes that their origins are a bit different--and how could Wikipedia possibly be wrong? Apparently they occupy some place in traditional Portuguese cooking, and through Portugal’s old colony in Macau, eventually made their way into modern Chinese cuisine. Given Korea’s proximity to China, it’s not too surprising to find them easily here. When I first did notice egg tarts here, however, I can’t say I was too excited about a dessert that promoted itself solely by having lots of eggs. I like eggs, but an eggy dessert? But oh Lord (Stow), with one bite I was hooked. And that was even before I tried different flavors like walnut, sweet potato, and chocolate. Sadly, my local branch of Lord Stow Andrew’s Egg Tart has closed. I’ve visited the location in Seoul to get my fix, but in reality the closing just focused my dessert attention more toward the egg tart’s willing adversary, the aforementioned choux. I’ve tried hard to find you a decent egg tart recipe, but most of the accompanying photographs look like crème brûlée stuffed in cheap puff pastry. I’m told they are easy to make. If do you use one of these many recipes out there, whatever you do, don’t undercook them. The top should be golden brown, as in the photo at the top of the page. Electronics, cars, and now pastries are set to be Asia’s next great (though borrowed) export. Just don’t blame me as you start putting on the pounds.

Poooooaaaaaa!!

Mon, 16 Aug 2010 00:10:16 -0400

With summer in full swing, it is inevitable that my mind has been on only one thing lately: golf. The smell of the fresh-cut grass, the rattle of the ball when it drops in the stainless steel cup, the wind rushing through my hair as I cruise down the fairway in the back seat of the golf cart, and the cool relief of a couple bottles of fresh cold fermented rice beer at the turn. Wait, these aren’t the things you think of when remembering summers playing this blessed game? Well you’re not very South Korean...

Golf. It was my greatest worry before Min and I moved over here. I had heard all the anecdotes about how golf-obsessed Korea was; everybody plays, everybody follows the game, everybody cheers for their compatriots on the U.S. tours, that, in a nutshell, Koreans are golf-mad people. But then I started to dig a little deeper. Before even arriving here, I was learning about golfing options in Busan, learning how expensive it was, how inconvenient the courses were to metropolitan areas, how glacially slow they play the game, and how it’s a sport solely for business tycoons and fat-cat politicians. Well, I never actually read anywhere that they played slowly--by contrast, the Japanese are famous for their seven+ hour rounds, which includes a two hour lunch mid-way through the game. But I have been stuck behind many a Korean foursome on courses in Maryland and I figured if they were this slow in our country, Jesus, how must they be at home.

You see, in the months and years leading up to our move here, I hadn’t just developed a little hobby of playing golf. I had developed a serious obsession. I’ve played the game since I was about ten, but in the time between high school, when I played competitively, and about 2008, I played only occasionally and very casually. Then, about two years ago, motivated in a way only an immature and irrational younger brother can be, I rededicated myself to the game after learning that my brother, who hardly played at all until a few years ago, was now better than me. For the past few years, I’ve played year-round and as many as three or four days a week. Besides playing, I started reading more about the game, studying course design, traveling to play different kinds of courses in different parts of the country and world, and following professional golf closely. There’s hardly a weekend afternoon when at some point I’m not glued to the television watching the PGA tour. My wife even got me involved briefly in online fantasy golf, by joining her league, though she would never admit to this. Consequently, by the time we moved here to Korea last fall, golf was very much a part of my life.

When we arrived here I was determined to continue playing regularly. I did more research online but my effort was severely limited as nearly all the information is in Korean only. My language skills at the time were so poor about all I could discern, thanks to picture maps, was where a course was located. I had one friend call around for me but he knew so little about golf that though the conversation was in his native language, he couldn’t understand what the prospective courses were talking about. What we did manage to understand though: most courses in the area were private and prohibitively expensive. So, helped by the freezing cold weather and inability to access the courses via public transportation, I gave up on the idea.

Then, in July, the British Open happened. It was played this year at the home of golf, St. Andrews Old Course, which is a venue as historic and special as any, especially to a fan of old style-links golf as I am. I stayed up most nights watching the tournament on TV and after about two days, I realized my passion was reignited. Almost immediately after the tournament, armed now with much more capable language skills, I started researching local golf courses again believing that there must be some course, any course, that I could play. What I found was mostly strange and contradictory information. Yes, most of the courses appeared private, but, very unlike country clubs at home, they list on their websites in great detail, rates for members and nonmembers, contact information for making reservations, and guidelines for accessing the course. I surmised the some of these courses might actually be “semi-private”, meaning that while they indeed have membership and are “private”, they are also open the public for limited play. I was optimistic.

One afternoon I felt confident enough to call one of the most nearby courses. I didn’t even make it past their automated answer system. It was so hard to figure out what the recording was saying and just pressing “0” over and over again only ended in them hanging up on me. I had a different Korean friend, one who understood golf slightly better, give them a call and he too was totally confounded by the course’s automated phone menu. Eventually he got through to a real person and confirmed my worst fear: this course, and all the other ones that seemed to have so much potential, were strictly private. Koreans love to negotiate and my friend did his best to try to convince whomever was at the other end of that telephone that they should let me play but the country club wouldn’t budge. Unless I knew a member, I was out of luck. My friend couldn’t believe that in Korea’s second largest city there was truly no place for the public to play golf. He quickly did some googling and wow, he found a public course! I was ecstatic. Finally, we had a breakthrough. I was going to get to golf in Korea after all! When phoning the public course, after confirming and re-confirming that they were a public course, open the public, and allowed members of the public to play, they dropped a bomb on me. “Singles are not allowed to play. You must play in a foursome.” It hadn’t taken me 8 months just to find a course where I could play, and now I find three more people to accompany me?! Gutted, I buried my head in the sand bunker and gave up again.

With the effort to play real golf stalled until I could somehow produce three more golfers, I turned to the next best, but mostly terrible, option, “screen golf”. Every Korean to whom I’ve mentioned my interest in golf has encouraged me to try screen golf and until a couple weeks ago, I ignored them. But I’d reached such despair that I figured it was worth at least a try. I dragged Min to a screen golf center where you play what is essentially virtual reality golf. You’re a large room with lined with video screens on one side and couches and tables on the other. Set up in front of the screens is a golf mat like you’d see at any driving range. When you hit the ball at the screen, sensors analyze your shot and project it on the screen as if you were actually outside playing. Some of the fancier places even have the mats on which you are standing move and tilt to approximate the lie you might have on real course. And when it’s not your turn, players can lounge around on the couch, eat pizza, and drink beer. The first time we played, though the machine wasn’t accurate if you dared to hit it hard, I kind of got into the game. When I took Mindy out a few days later to play again, I realized the virtual game was making my interest in playing real golf only grow stronger.

Fortunately, that day my luck began to change: a local friend called to tell me he’d found me a threesome that was looking for a fourth player (the apparent upside to the foursome requirement). So, just when it seemed impossible, last weekend I headed about an hour north of town to play at a little course on a very big hill called “Gold Green Golf Club”. I could tell immediately the course was quite small. Besides there being only nine holes, which is fine, the holes were packed very close together. In an attempt to remedy this common problem at courses in Korea, they run OB lines on either side of every damn fairway. If you’re a golfer, you understand how disastrous and unenjoyable such a set up could be. (If you’re not a golfer, I’m sure you stopped reading this drivel long ago.) There was no way though that I was going to let such things bother me. I was about to play golf--strange, but REAL golf!

Despite two of them being quite new to golf, the guys in my foursome got around the course quite well. They surprised me in fact with how quickly they played. I was also surprised how much they walked. I had believed that most golfers here, as back home, prefer to use a golf cart. I walk when I play golf, and much prefer it that way, though I concede that sometimes you just have to use a cart. Here, you get to do both. Because--get this--the cart can drive itself. AND, it comes with a caddie--a middle aged woman dressed in shades of coordinating pink and plaid--who drives the cart when it’s not driving itself. It’s a simple system of magnets that keep it on the cart path and GPS to tell the cart where it is. Brilliant! So, while the cart was driving my clubs around the course, we golfers were free to walk the fairways and shout to the caddie what club we wanted. And you’ll notice I say “cart” in the singular. Since they require foursomes in Korea, and thus know exactly how many they need seating for, why bother with separate carts when you can just stretch one cart and add a back seat! (see above photo)

There were some other amusing differences one notices when playing golf here. Because the course had only nine holes, to get in our full round we simply played the loop twice, as is typical anywhere. However, to add a sense of variety to the holes, instead of just moving pin placements on the greens, they have separate, but nearly identical, greens side by side on each hole. Somebody from the clubhouse has to drive around after each group changing the pins back and forth depending whether the oncoming group is on the “front” or “back” nine. Nuts! Sadly, many of the holes had artificial turf mats thrown down on top of the lovely grass tee boxes and the course required that the mats be used. Surely no golfer prefers awful mats to real turf. I did, however, greatly enjoy the mid-round (between the 14th and 15th holes) snack of kimchi, boiled eggs, and fermented rice beer. I also chuckled a little each time our caddy shouted “pooooaaaa!” when someone hit a shot offline and onto another fairway. The Korean language, without “f”s or “r”s, isn’t well suited to warning other golfers of an oncoming ball. I was less pleased with the metal, not plastic, cups in the greens. (Yes, when you’re as obsessed as I am, the sound the ball makes when it drops in the cup actually matters...)

Despite my nitpicking, playing golf here was a wonderful experience that I hope to soon repeat. I was even playing well that day. Well...at first I was. Though I was only one over par after eight holes, when I finally drove it slightly left, and thus OB, on number nine, my solid round began to unravel. In the end, it didn’t matter though. Because golf, whether it be on a nine- or 18-hole course, played walking or in (and next to) a double-decker cart, and on turf or grass, is golf.

For more of me, friends, and family hacking together, see the new “Some Links” photo album, featuring pictures from a variety of courses played over the past few years.

I think I hear drilling...

Sun, 8 Aug 2010 21:11:54 -0400

Let’s try an SAT analogy: “sub-Saharan Africa” is to “precision watch-making” as “Northeast Asia” is to: 1.) ship-building, 2.) plasma TV production, 3.) quality dental work. Yes, the correct answer is #3. Or so I very much believed. It’s not surprising then that last week, when a retaining wire on the back of my teeth came unattached while munching on bean sprouts, a deep and dark fear immediately consumed me. Jesus Christ, I thought, I have to go to the dentist in Korea...

The panic worsened a bit as I prepared myself for the trip. (It wasn’t to be a long trip though, as there’s a dentist in our apartment building! Along with a Thai massage parlor, three realtors, a travel agency, seven restaurants, a karaoke bar, two “waffle” cafes, Starbucks, three whiskey bars, two clothing boutiques, a spa, wedding hall, two convenience stores, and something mysteriously called “Club the Nine Hole”.) I readied myself for the dentist by memorizing the necessary phrases to explain my problem. Do I go with “the wire has detached from my tooth” or “the wire is broken” or just “help, my mouth is broken”? In the end, of course, in front of the reception desk I couldn’t remember anything I studied and ended up pulling the broken wire out of my mouth and gasping “ahn dwei yo”, which translates literally as “it does not become”. Trust me, it wasn’t as poor a choice of words as it sounds and anyway, they seemed to get the message.

When a dental assistant came out and saw that I “speak Korean” she did what usually happens next: start speaking really quickly, employing mostly words I don’t know and will never know. I understood “please wait” though, so that’s what I did. The office itself looked about like any other dentist office I’d visited, in a slightly miniaturized form. Furniture in Korea seems to always be about 70% the size of its American cousins. Their lack of space or our large behinds? After five minutes of pretending to remain calm while thumbing through a magazine, a girl that looked about 16 years old came to get me and took me back to exam room #3. The girl, Miss Kim, may have been a dental hygienist, a dental assistant, the dentist herself, or she may have been a cook--I didn’t ask. I just sat in the chair, asked humbly for her to “please make re-apply cement please”, and opened wide.

What proceeded to happen was remarkable precisely because, well, nothing remarkable happened. She fixed everything, fairly comfortably and quickly. The patient room was exactly as one would find one back home. Everything clean and organized, nothing bloodied or taped together. I was startled briefly though when she began working as in Korea they cover your face with a sterile cloth with a hole in the center for your mouth. So I could hear her drilling--well, polishing--my teeth, but I couldn’t see a thing. There was one funny moment about half-way through the procedure where she stopped me and, deadpan, told me the work was going to be expensive and asked if she should proceed. How much? About 80,000 won. I told her I would happily pay and asked her to just do her best.

So, after about 40 minutes in total, and $68 poorer, I had a shiny new wire running behind my lower front teeth. The dental office even sent me a text message that evening to check how I was doing and remind me to come in anytime should I have trouble in the future. To be honest, I should have known better. For one, Koreans have nice teeth! Memories of living in rural Japan--a very different story--were still controlling my mind when the wire busted. Additionally, a friend of mine lived in Seoul for a number of years and always raved about the medical care here, far preferring it to back home in Colorado. So be optimistic, dear reader, when you find yourself traveling through Busan and happen to crack a tooth on one of those nasty bits of bone they like to hide in the grilled pork.

2-4-8 FIGHTING!

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 01:46:23 -0400

The Olympic Games. The World Series. Wimbledon. The FIFA World Cup. The Pohang City Marine Sports and Fireworks Festival. The Masters. The Super Bowl. It is widely agreed that these are some of the finest sporting events around the world. I’ve written about some of these before in this blog but have been remiss in mentioning others. Today, I’ll tell you about the Pohang sports festival where, oh hey, I happened to compete in a triathlon last weekend. Funny that.

For those of you smart enough to stay far away from anything that could be described as an “endurance sport”, triathlon is a multi-sport race consisting of legs in swimming, biking, and running. The clock is running from the time you begin swimming till the time you cross the finish line at the end of the run. This means that while you’re changing out of your wetsuit and getting ready to get on your bike, you’re still racing. The race lengths vary greatly, but are usually one of four standard formats: Sprint (750m swim, 20km bike, and 5km run), Olympic (1.5km swim, 40km bike, and 10km run), Long Course (1.9km swim, 90 km bike, and 21km run) and, most famously, Ironman (3.8km swim, 190km bike, and 42.2km run). Yes, you’re doing your metric conversions correctly. In an Ironman race, after a competitor has swum for more than two miles, ridden a bike for 112 more miles, they now must run a marathon. Noone ever says the name of the race is an inappropriate one.

There are also races called Super-Sprint, which are about half the length of a Sprint race, and are becoming more popular in the US as they are a perfect introduction to the sport for beginners. I would have been happy to compete in a Super-Sprint or Sprint race, but the Korean triathlon community seems to think those are only for kids and usually limits registration to high school age and below. So, I was stuck beginning my triathlete career with an Olympic distance race which, not surprisingly, is the same length in which triathletes compete in the Olympic games. I only discovered the complete dearth of Sprint races about half way into my 12-week training program. So with just weeks to go, I now found myself training for a 2.5-3 hour, instead of a 1-1.5 hour, event. Rather than racing for 16 total miles, I would be racing for 32 miles. You get the idea. I was “concerned”.

Triathletes tend to be a nutty bunch, famous for working out six or seven days a week, obsessing about gear, and Spamming themselves--more on that later. Most athletes seem to arrive at the sport from one of three general backgrounds: they are a cyclist looking for something a bit sexier, they are an injured runner forced by their orthopedist to do some sport other than running, or, least commonly, they are a bored swimmer tired of staring at a black line in the bottom of the pool. Each of these backgrounds has distinct advantages and disadvantages. For cyclists, they are used to long races and comfortable on a bike (duh), which is good, because most of the time spent during a race is during the bike leg. Runners, meanwhile, gain an advantage over opponents because in triathlon the race is usually won or lost during the run leg. As it is the end of the race, runners who really understand their body and how fast they can push themselves will race better than those who may burn out early or peak too late. For swimmers, the advantage is nearly entirely mental. The swim leg is just too short for most swimmers to gain much of a meaningful advantage over opponents. But, because most races are held outdoors, the swimming usually takes place on a lake or river or in the ocean. Many runners and cyclists struggle just to learn proper swimming techniques, let alone develop a real comfort in the water. These “open-water” venues, where competitors are bumping and swimming on top of each other, with little landmarks to guide them, scare the crap out of non-swimmers--and many veteran swimmers too. So, those comfortable in open-water swimming, often have the distinct advantage of simply not wasting energy before the race being overly anxious.

I came to triathlon mostly for medical reasons. I was preparing for a marathon a few years ago and realized about half-way through my training that there was no way my knees and hips were going to survive. After first being (mis)diagnosed with lyme disease, I came to discover that I have degenerative arthritis. Counterintuitive as it seems, with this kind of arthritis, the more you seem to exercise, the better you feel--though that is a very hard thing to convince myself of when waking up some days feeling very sore and stiff. The exercise has to be varied though, in type and intensity, or else I’m left feeling like I have concrete in my knees. So I’ve learned that while I can’t just run and run for a marathon, I can run as long as I’m also swimming and biking and swimming some more. Once I started to get better, getting into triathlon happened quickly and naturally. I competed in a couple when I was very young and swimming competitively. I don’t remember much about them, other than that I had a good time and seemed to enjoy the variety of it. As an adult, it has that same appeal. I desperately wish I was a better runner and cyclist, but I’ll take the mental advantage because if anything, I am comfortable in water.

To help get ready for the Pohang race, I started training with a group of triathletes here called the Busan Triathlon Academy (BTA). You may recall a blog entry from just after we arrived here where we talked about the polar bear swimming clubs here. Well, these guys are kind of part of that mess. My first day out with them, there I was, swimming with all the nut-cases off Haeundae beach. At least it wasn’t freezing out--though there was quite a storm brewing. (If you visit the BTA page and click on 이미지모아보기 you may be able to see some of the pictures from that day.) Being involved with the group has helped me adapt a little bit to the triathlon culture here. Though when race time finally came and we got to Pohang last week for the event, a little miscommunication with the BTA guys meant I was going it alone as I tried to figure out the race rules, course, times, bike inspection details, registration procedures, etc. In Korean. So much for swimmers’ advantage of staying calm before a race.
“Don’t be distracted by the peacocks’ feathers.”
The evening before and morning of the race are interesting times. Everyone is strutting around in their expensive gear, decked out with logos showing off the toughest race they finished, staring at each others bikes. My training book calls this the “peacock parade”. Doing it all in a foreign country made it actually a little easier. I felt a little more detached, able to concentrate in my preparation: water and food for the bike, headbands to change, sunglasses, right shoes in the right place, swim goggles and cap, check. By the time the gun went off and we were underway, jockeying for a good spot in the water, I remember being surprised that it had actually begun and I hadn’t made any terrible mistakes yet.

No, that isn’t ominous foreshadowing. I won’t bore you with the details of the race itself, but nothing did really go wrong. As a first race, I had no time or performance goal. Just try to finish, and maybe not finish last, I told myself. I realized mid-way though the biking that I had a choice. I could keep trying to really push myself hard--I had come out of swim pretty quick and was off to a good start on the bike--or I could try to relax a bit, slow down, and enjoy myself. I’m very glad I took the latter road. Hours baking in the sun listening to every single spectator and fellow competitor shout “fighting!” (sounds more like “hwighting”, as they have no “f”) every time I passed and hey, surprisingly, I did have a good time. After the race, I was soaking wet, sunburned, and exhausted. So I did what any self-respecting American athlete would do--I went to McDonalds and ate a lot of french fries.

I just learned today that I ended up finishing fortieth in my age group. I won’t tell you just how many people were in that group and I’ll trust that your Korean is too crappy to figure it out by googling. I will say this though, I did beat someone. And, yes, he may have been one-legged, riding a BMX bike, and running in jeans...

Couple look

Wed, 21 Jul 2010 09:25:24 -0400

M: We all know that we've done some pretty crazy things when we start falling into that thing called love. Particularly when it comes to puppy love. In second grade I remember rewriting the lyrics of Madonna’s True Blue into something like "true blue Mike E. I love you..", or memorizing phone numbers and addresses of all the boys in my class. From folding up notes into those football triangle shapes and passing them in class, to hiding a bottle of my parents' Kahlua and bringing it to my boyfriend's treehouse in the woods (sorry mom and dad), to sneaking out, having parties when our parents weren't home, or falling asleep while talking on the phone, at some point, everyone does something a little nuts for their “one true love”.

That said, even puppy love has its limits. While I may have been happy substituting the last name of my boyfriend for my own on love notes in school (Tommy Brewer + Mindy Brewer = Love), never once did I think about displaying my affection in quite the same way that Korean couples do. What we are seeing here may not be a new trend in Korea, but as spring has turned to summer, there are an increasing amount of couples, out and about, displaying their affection though...fashion. Much to our amusement, Korean couples in love have adopted what they call the "couple look". The couple look comes in a variety of flavors. Single scoop - matching shirts. Couples will feature the same shirt in, one assumes, different sizes. Kind of cute, maybe? Double scoop - matching tops and coordinating bottoms. Sometimes, the girl will wear a denim skirt and the boy will wear coordinating jeans. Yes, oh boy. Triple scoop - matching shirts, coordinating bottoms, and a hat. Discovering a triple scoop is always a real pleasure. The real find though, is what I liken to the brownie sundae of the "couple look" - matching shirts, coordinating bottoms, matching hats, and the same footwear. Yes, they make the same shoes for both men and women who wish to display their deepest love for each other by wearing the exact same thing.

Rob is convinced that the couple look is perpetuated by the woman, forced on the guy, because she is dying to show the world that she has finally found a boyfriend. I believe, however, that the guy might not be as unwilling as Rob would like to think. Young men in Busan, after all, love to carry around their murses (or man purse) and often its the girlfriend that doesn’t have to bother carrying a bag. Guys like this often dress quite femininely, wear make-up, and are constantly primming their hair. These pretty men are known in Korea as "flower boys". For some reason, I believe the flower boys would definitely embrace the "couple look" with vim and vigor!

Honestly, for our amusement, we’re glad to have so many couple-look couples around. We have made it a game around our neighborhood to see who can spot the most couples in "love" on a daily basis. It has made us examine our own relationship and how far we would be willing to go for love. I am still trying to convince Rob to go with the "couple look". However, I think this will be tough: he quickly changes his clothes if he notices that I am wearing so much as a similar shade of color as he has chosen, regardless of what the article of clothing is. Hmm, maybe I should make him re-do his vows to include something about coordinating outfits...

So what silly things have you done in the name of “love”? Have you succeeded in adopting the couple-look? Would you even wear such a thing...? Comment below.

The Shouts of Reds. United Korea

Sun, 4 Jul 2010 04:12:58 -0400

So say the t-shirts worn by the “Red Devils”, as supporters of Korea’s national soccer team are known. Particularly since co-hosting in 2002, the World Cup is a monumental event in South Korea. Ah, I should take a moment to explain something to our mostly Yankee audience. The “World Cup” is this big tournament featuring a sport called “soccer”. Soccer, which so many nations have the gall to call “football”, is kind of like our football, only the ball is rounder, feet are actually used, the players are smaller, faster, and better at acting, but slightly worse at dancing. Official explanation here.

Koreans’ interest in their national soccer team during the World Cup may not be unique, but their passion and methods of support certainly are. While most Europeans and Americans happily watch the games at home or perhaps at a bar, Koreans prefer far less intimate venues. Most Red Devils, all donning red shirts and red horns, gather in the tens of thousands to watch the games on JumboTrons. These gatherings usually take place at sports stadiums, public squares, or, in our case, right here on Haeundae beach. At first I was a little alarmed by such mass displays of support. But I’ve come to see how they are representative of Korean culture in general. Koreans tend to enjoy social, sporting, or other activities as part of a large group. This is so much the case that if you, for example, enjoy hiking alone, you’ll definitely stand out and likely be called a “loner” (which is not a compliment). If you’re actually discovered alone on a hiking trail, you’ll be cajoled by others to join up with them. Fortunately (?) for many travelers, you can expect similar treatment if you find yourself eating alone.

With the games being broadcast here at 11:00pm and 3:30am, I wasn’t too keen to host many World Cup parties or sit at a bar until 5:30am on a Wednesday morning. But I was certain I had to join one of these mass gatherings. The pictures posted with this blog give you a flavor for what it’s like to spend an evening with 30,000 screaming and cheering Devils. Unfortunately, on this particular night Korea was simply out-played by South American powerhouse Argentina. A week later, a far smaller crowd gathered again on the same beach, under wet skies, to watch their beloved Taeguk Warriors, as the team is known locally, get knocked out the tournament by Uruguay. It was a sad night for Mindy and I too as the USA couldn’t keep up with quick and powerful Ghana.

If you aren’t a fan of the World Cup by now, all is not lost. The semifinals and final are still to be played and promise to be exciting, fast-paced, and probably a little controversial. If soccer itself isn’t your thing, much like it isn’t for many here, just focus on the cheering. Better yet, wait four years till the next World Cup when you can join up with your local chapter of Red Devils. By then you’ll have watched the below video enough and can cheer along.

Dae~~han Min-guk!

The beach escape

Wed, 23 Jun 2010 08:09:24 -0400

I used to not care much for beach vacations. I was always a little too restless, a little too impatient to enjoy lying on the beach under the sun, reading or sleeping or whatever beach-people do. I was the hyper-active guy that sunbathers find so annoying; sitting around the tiki hut at sunset boasting of a day spent kayaking, surfing, snorkeling, or hiking through the jungle. Under the tutelage of my beach-guru wife, I’ve been learning the true beauty of the sun, the mojito, and trashy fiction. On this path toward enlightenment, Bali, fittingly, was my nirvana.

The first inkling I had that my idea of a beach vacation was very misguided came back in 2007 when Mindy and I visited Honduras. I had intended to complete a scuba certification course during the four nights we planned to spend on the island of Roatan, one of the world’s truly great dive destinations. Never mind that the course would take three of those four days, I was sure that’s how vacation was meant to be spent. The first sign of trouble came before we even arrived in Honduras. I had elected to do a portion of the certification course online as doing so would mean less time later in a classroom and more time in the water. I assumed that the online work would be a breeze and might take only a couple of hours. I couldn’t have been more incorrect. As there is an element of lethal danger involved in diving, I decided it was probably smart to study a little more diligently than I would have for a middle school phonics test. I will never forget, three days into our vacation, sitting in our hotel room on my computer till 4am desperately trying to finish the course hours before our short flight out to Roatan. It occurred to me that this mighty struggle was probably not how best to remember being on vacation.

By the time we arrived in Roatan I was tired of studying, tired of thinking about diving, and didn’t give a hoot about the certification. I spent the first day with Mindy recovering from my cram session, mostly reading on the cabana deck and lying in the hammock above our little stretch of the resort’s private beach. A Corona was never far away, but unfortunately neither was the twinge of guilt that I should be doing something a little more productive. Happily, I discovered that the resort had its own excellent dive shop on site and that I could begin my certification course regardless of my (lack of) progress online. I spent our second day with the divemaster reviewing what I’d learned online, practicing basic skills in a confined water area, and doing a full 45-minute dive at legendary Mary’s Place. This blog isn’t about diving (hell, it’s not really supposed to be about going to Honduras) so I won’t get into my first diving experience in too much detail. I will say that it was one of the most incredible things I’ve done in 31 years. If you’re a diver, you no doubt remember your first dive with the same wonder and awe. For those of us that will likely never spacewalk, diving is truly a sensory experience without equal. If you have any interest at all, try it.

The whole day spent in and around water, learning, challenging myself, exploring new worlds, was so rewarding that I didn’t dive again for the rest of the trip. Why? At the time I wasn’t really sure. I assumed I was just worn out. I’d been working a lot leading up to the vacation and perhaps the certification mess just did me in. But when it came time to plan our trip to Bali, I seemed to have a bit of amnesia. Two weeks before our departure and there I was running around Busan trying to find a scuba shop that could help me complete my diving certification. The trip was set to be Honduras II.

Our vacation was organized thus: four nights up on the north side of the island, off the beaten tourist track but home to a couple great resorts and many of Bali’s best dive sites. Our final four nights would be spent at a small resort on famous Jimbaran beach. Yeah, yeah, the beaches are beautiful, but for the active traveler, Bali has it all: surfing, diving, golf, temples, cooking schools, cultural exhibits, and even white-water rafting. I began to get excited thinking of all the ways I could fill up my time there. I figured I’d dive a few days, golf a few days, and fit it other stuff with Min when she wasn’t reading on the beach. Roa~, err, Bali--here we come!

Viewing the photo album from our trip, you may wonder if the guy looking forward to all those activities ever boarded the plane for Bali. Sometime between walking out of the airport terminal, being hit by the blanket of warm, tropical air, and my first (of many) rum-and-umbrellas, my priorities began to change. Yes, in Bali it would be wonderful to do all those things. But perhaps it would be just as great to do nothing...? Gordon Ramsay’s cooking, Japanese gardens, and tropical vacations may all have something in common: less is more.

My metamorphosis into a mai-tai swilling beach bum has been a slow and painful one. (If you’ve heard me rant about the appropriateness of men wearing shorts, you’re likely not surprised by this.) Yes, as the pictures can attest, WE did spend a lot of time at the beach. But I did play golf twice, and while it was nice, it didn’t feel necessary. The day diving though was again monumental. I kick myself for not discovering the sport sooner in life. If only diving could be done as an alternative to say, going to doctor, and not going to beach. In the end, Bali was perhaps my most rewarding beach escape. What a joy to realize you don’t need white-water, 6am tee times, and certification courses to have a nice vacation.

I’d love to hear about some of your beach vacation dos and don’ts. Are there others out there who happily trade the sunscreen and flip-flops for bug-spray and hiking boots? Surely I wasn’t alone in my madness...

Hosting

Sun, 6 Jun 2010 02:14:38 -0400

Last week we hosted our first, and possibly only, guest from home. A good friend of mine from college, Toby, stayed with us for a few days in Busan. Toby and I also managed to pop over to Fukuoka, Japan, for a couple days before he had to fly back to Texas. If any of you are like Toby’s friends back home, you’re probably wondering why someone in their right mind would visit Korea with all the escalating tension with North Korea. Toby may indeed be out of his mind, but not because he chose to visit Korea now. The truth is, while the sinking of the South Korean ship and subsequent sabre-rattling is newsworthy, it hasn’t changed people’s lives significantly, and certainly hasn’t created a mood of impending war. So, given the good weather, lack of crowds, and strengthening dollar, I’d say it was a great time to visit.

Toby is the kind of friend that for me, is very easy to host. Like me, when traveling, he’s happy to forgo tourist sites and spend days just walking around, seeing things, and eating good food. It’s easy to get templed-out in Asia, and I promised him no temples. I lied of course, and dragged him to one, which I’d been interested to visit for a while. Our time in Busan was short, but we did explore a bit, taking in the Jalgachi fish market, Nampo-dong market, Shinsegae department store (a favorite of mine), and aforementioned temple, Yonggung-sa. More importantly, we tried to eat well--beef noodles, beef stew, and grilled beef.

For his last night, we made the rather foolish decision to host a BBQ for him and invite over some of our Korean and Japanese friends. We figured it would be a good way for Toby to meet some locals and for our friends here to meet another American. As usual, Mindy and I were a little ambitious with the menu and I probably spent more time chopping vegetables than a host should have. I seemed to have forgotten when planning the BBQ that most of our Korean friends really only speak Korean. It probably wasn’t the best night of conversation in Toby’s life, but I hope the event was fun nonetheless.

Though we couldn’t stay long in Fukuoka, we made good use of our time there. I dragged Toby to another temple (actually a shrine, but they all kind of look the same...) in the picturesque little town of Dazaifu. The Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks baseball game was a highlight, the visit to a sake factory was a low point. (FYI, the company SoftBank is not a bank. It’s a mobile phone company. Duh.) The best thing about Fukuoka though, besides the wonderful inn we stayed at (TripAdvisor review here), was just the feeling of the town. It’s a pleasant place to walk around, get lost, and people-watch.

We even managed to eat three full dinners in just two nights. The beef-streak we were on in Korea didn’t carry over to Japan, but I should have known better than to deprive a Texan of his beef. After we finished dinner our second night there, Toby admitted all he wanted was some good meat--we’d been eating quite a bit of seafood--so we went for another dinner at a yakiniku (BBQ) restaurant. We certainly weren’t hungry, but Jesus, it was so damn good. If you’ve had yakiniku, you understand what I’m talking about.

I swore by the time I got this post up I’d have the accompanying photo album ready as well. It’s not. I’d like to tell you it’s because I’m so busy here studying or working or preparing our war-is-on-emergency-evacuation-plan, but the truth is, it has more do with another upcoming vacation. More on that, and the photo album, very soon...

The orphanage

Tue, 25 May 2010 09:45:44 -0400

M: One of the main reasons we decided to come to Korea was to learn more about the Korean people, their culture, customs, and ways. Having been adopted at only four and a half months, I obviously never got a chance to know much about the place where I was born, nor learn why it would be important to know more about my heritage. To be honest, growing up I never really thought much about looking different from my family and it never really bothered me much. I would sometimes joke around about how I looked different--making my chin flat like my face or opening my eyes really wide and asking if I looked like I was Caucasian (I still do this sometimes, and kind of find it funny). One of my friends in the 6th grade told me that she never even really considered me “Korean” as I was just like all other middle school girls, embarrassingly mooning the boys lacrosse team out of the back of the bus, singing "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes in the gym locker room, and seeing "Death Becomes Her" on my first movie date. Korea was the last place on my mind.

And, for the most part, I never really gave Korea much of a thought until about five years ago when I thought maybe it would be interesting to see if the adoption agency had any information on my birth family. At the time we didn't know much and I figured, if only to learn about my medical history, maybe it was worth a shot. After an approximately six month process, little new information emerged. They noted that I was born in a clinic, my birth mother had been unable to care for me, and she had politely asked if a more capable family could be found for my care. The rest is history, and boy am I glad that I ended up finding my way to my Connecticut family. The lack of information didn't really bother me. It was 30 years ago and record keeping at that time was not the most precise--mind you Korea was still nearly a decade away from its leap forward into the modern, industrial, democratic nation that it is today. If anything, not knowing much just made me realize with a stronger resolve that some day it would be important to at least visit Korea and learn more about what would have happened if I had never been adopted. When asked about being adopted as a child, my most common response was always "thank god I am not living in a mud house and forced to take my shoes off all the time." I knew someday I would have to travel back to see if the city where I was born, Busan, was indeed full of mud houses and people taking their shoes off all the time! Boy I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and although there are no mud and stick houses in Busan, taking your shoes off all the time does get tiring. At least that much I got right.

Being in Korea has been a wonderful experience, and made me realize every day how fortunate I am to live here, learn another language, and travel around. My family gave me wonderful opportunities that many others weren't fortunate enough to have, and because of that, I've always enjoyed being able to give back whenever possible. One of the expatriate groups in the area recently arranged an orphanage visit. I was eager to attend as I had been researching different ways to help the community while living in Busan. After an initial introduction, I went and spoke with the director of the orphanage in my broken Korean, and tried my best to explain how I had been adopted from Busan and was thankful for the work that he and his wife were doing at their orphanage. It was because of people like him that I was lucky enough to be there standing there in front of him. He was thrilled to speak with me, brought me inside to his office, and even had me take a picture with him and his wife! We sat for more than 20 minutes and talked about my life in America and about how every summer Korean adoptees visit their orphanage from Europe and other parts of the world, trying to find out where they came from before being adopted.

As the other volunteers were happily playing with the toddlers, the director had me brought up to the 2nd floor--the baby floor. I was the only one in the room, and was immediately surrounded by eight babies between the ages of six months and one and a half years. The ones that could stand and totter around immediately surrounded me, holding their arms up, begging to be held. It was an immensely moving moment and I wish that I had had 16 arms to embrace all of them at the same time. Despite having been abandoned by their parents, the kids seemed happy and healthy and, if anything, just dying for hugs. It made me realize how truly lucky I had been 30 years ago this month when I was escorted on a plane from Seoul, through Tokyo, Anchorage, Chicago and finally to New York to meet my family. And I realized that even if I couldn't bring all of these babies home with me, at least during my time in Korea I would be able to visit with them, play with them, and shower them with attention. I hope that just the few hours I spent with them would help them feel love and attention until it’s their turn to board a plane or find a new and permanent home in Korea.

I continue to go back to the orphanage and every time I visit I learn a little more about Korea, Korean people, and myself. The American in me sometimes gets annoyed with living in Korea--the pushing, spitting in the street, yelling at servers in restaurants for more liquor. And yes, I find myself sometimes mumbling under my breath at how "stupid" they are being. It only takes a few moments with those kids, however, to realize that--American volunteer or Korean caregiver--at that orphanage, with those children, there is little difference between us. We both want the same wonderful future for those babies. At the orphanage all my petty frustrations with Korea dissipate and the only impression I’m left with is one of love and affection. It also makes me realize that Korean love and affection for the orphans in that room are things important to learn more about. Korean culture is complicated and hard to understand sometimes, but the orphanage workers’ love and caring for those tiny children is simple, is amazing, and is something that I want to be a part of who I am. The American in me, and an adoptee, has benefited from exactly this kind of care. And the Korean in me wants to give it back as they do. Thanks to these dedicated individuals, I’m learning about Korean culture, about my own past, and about how parts of being American, and being Korean, are all parts of me.