Welcome to the American Southwest

Well hey there. How have you been? I’m back from my year long hiatus to bring you adventures from the American southwest. Now I know what you may be thinking, “What could possibly take you from Korea back to the states?”. A fair question my friends. A sheer lack of direction is the quickest answer and in my experience that’s the best way to start an adventure. That being said, buckle up. It’s a new ride with cars, Native Americans, green chillies, and a whole lot of route 66.

With that introduction out of the way, I’m currently sitting in the Amtrak station waiting for a train that’s two hours late to take me to Albuquerque. Why Albuquerque? Glad you asked. I’m working on getting back to Orlando to pick up my necessary belongings (laptop, external hard drives, cameras, and some more changes of underwear) and get my wisdom teeth ripped out of my head! Then next week I’ll be back to Gallup, NM hopefully with a teaching job and working towards a masters certificate.

But what of the past two weeks in Gallup? This small southwestern town of 23,000, situated along historic route 66, has a big personality. Navajo jewelers, trading posts, and bars line the streets of downtown Gallup. Trains blast their horns and trucks rumble down the road all hours of the day. There is a solid mix of Navajo, Zuni, Mexicans, and ex Peace Corps volunteers. Almost every home has a garden filled with fruits and vegetables. It’s quite a place for being in the middle of the high desert. It’s a place I came to visit and now want to stay, at least for now.

I’ll leave you all here, the train finally came. Now to look out the window and take in the rocky beauty that is the American Southwest.

Feeling a little lost…

It’s been almost one year since I began this crazy journey.  I’ve changed so much and learned so many things, not only about people, but also myself.  When I think back to what I was doing this time last year, all of my hope, fear, and anticipations seem so misplaced. 

I haven’t gained direction, I’ve walked farther away from the path.  I’ve gotten so used to this state of childlike wonder, growing up seems that much harder. 

Can I come home?

24 Hours in Taipei.

Finally it was time to leave work.  The lessons were planned.  Every one had instructions in front of them.  The clock read 12:00am.  In twelve short hours I would be on a plane taking a break from the grind of my students, work, and those whom I surround myself.  I hop in the cab and let out a sigh of relief.  Vacation is here. I am ready.

The alarm went off early and I groggily finish packing my backpack.  Slowly I start my journey towards the airport on a cloudy Thursday morning.  I think of my friends still in bed, only to go to work in a few hours, teach my classes on top of theirs.  I feel a twinge of sorrow, but then shrug it off.  They’ve done the same to me.

I ride the subway and transfer accordingly.  Each stop brings me one step closer to adventure.

Arriving at the airport I look for a few Korean treats for the people that will be housing me during my time in Taiwan.  I pick up some kimchi, rice cakes, and a few bottles of Soju.  I  can’t think of anything more Korean.  I board the plane, settle in, press play on an in flight movie and await landing.

The moment I step off the plane, the humidity hits me like a wall.  The air is so thick you need a knife to cut through it.  A smile crosses my face, I almost feel like I’m home.

I welcomed the humidity as Taiwan welcomed me

As I go through customs the woman at the desk begins asking questions.  I panic.

“Where will you be staying?”

“With friends”

“Where do they live?”

“Umm, I’m not really sure.  I’m just supposed to meet them in Taipei.”

“Do you have a phone number?”

“Well yes, but I have a Korean phone.  It doesn’t work here.”

“What is your friend’s phone number?”

“I don’t know.”

“Excuse me, do you speak Chinese?”

“No.”

“Okay, you don’t speak Chinese, you don’t have your friends address or cell phone number.  Can I ask you what you’re thinking?”

“I’m not worried about it.  Everything will work out.”

“You’re brave.  Enjoy you’re stay ma’am.”

After the inquisition I make my way into the city.  The bus takes over an hour.  I sleep, only waking when the bus stops to check if I have reached my destination.  Finally I arrive at the metro station.  I struggle for a while to find the MRT.  Finally, I find the right set of stairs and head underground to the station.

As I take a seat on the train, something that is incredibly difficult to do in Seoul, I look at the people.  A teenage boy sits in front of me.  Between his legs is a small terrarium with two sugar gliders.  The two creatures are fighting and making a terrible racket, really the only sound that can be heard other than the train rushing through the tunnel.  Their fight turns into fucking.  The man sitting next to me is just as confused and concerned as I.  We exchange wordless glances, but come to an understanding that what we are seeing is strange.

I walk off the train and head toward the hostel.  It’s about 100 meters from the MRT station.  I find it with relative ease.  I walk up the stairs and the manager greets me.  He gives me a tour and explains the rules of the hostel.  Simple things, clean up after yourself, check out is at 11am, don’t be a jackass.  I am expecting my friend to meet me soon, so I wait around the hostel.  I write my parents to tell them, “I’m alive.  The weather is nice.”  I check Facebook and talk to my co-worker asking how the day is going.  Everything is fine.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

I wait about an hour for my friend to arrive, it’s now 5:30pm.  I grow impatient and decide to take a walk around the block.  As I step on to the street, I’m greeted by the sounds of cars buzzing on the road, a foreign tongue I can’t begin to understand, and the smell of food cooking.  If there is one thing my mother and travel shows have taught me, it’s to follow my nose and the longest line.  I walk a few blocks and find a street market full of vendors and admire the different fare at each cart.  Some are only fried food stands, others have meat on a stick, and others have fruit.  I come to the end of the street and decide to walk the block again.  This time around, I stop and buy some mango.  The sweetness explodes in my mouth.  I cringe with delight.  All is right in the world.  I finish the mango and continue walking down the street wondering what all the food tastes like.  I don’t know how to order.  I need my guide.

I stop at the 7-11 underneath my hostel and grab a few beers.  I’m not sure if my friend is upstairs or if I will continue waiting.  I walk back upstairs to find the staff having a conversation.  I ask if a girl with long brown hair had shown up.  They shake their heads to say no.  I pull a book off the shelf, Lonely Planet’s Guide to Taiwan, and crack open a beer.  I’m about half way through my beer and she walks in the door.  A figure from my past; a long lost friend.

We both squeal a little as we see one another.  It has been about seven years.  I offer her a beer and give her the Korean fare from the airport.  It’s a nice reunion.  We finish our beers and head out into the city.   It’s about 8pm

The first place we go to is the Chiang Kai Shek Memorial.  We step out of the subway into the muggy evening.  The courtyard is dark, but the buildings are magnificently lit up.  I try to take pictures, but I only have my handi-cam.  Justice isn’t served.

Quite a gate

She begins to tell me about how the Taiwanese love their dragons.  “You’ll see them everywhere”, she says.  We walk around the courtyard, discussing the difference between her life in Taiwan and mine in Korea.  We are more similar than different.  We walk toward the actual memorial, where Chiang Kai Shek sits and overlooks the city.  Unfortunately the doors were closed.  I stand in the square, take the scene in, and leave.

We rode the MRT to Longshan Temple.  The architecture is stunning.  As I look at the ornate pillars, I think about the people who have rebuilt this temple time and again over the centuries of war, earthquakes, and fires.  How has it changed, I wonder.  I try and take pictures, but the cover of night veils the beauty.  We walk around for a little while and I begin to get frustrated with the pictures I take.  We leave and head out into the night to try and find Snake Alley.

The alley way is supposed to be close to the temple.  I had read and seen on the internet where people go to this alley and are able to watch snakes be drained of their blood, bile, and venom.  The aforementioned liquids are then mixed with alcohol and consumed by tourists and people looking to cure an array of ailments.  The tourists boast of hallucinations.  I was a bit wary of the idea of drinking snake blood, bile, and venom. However, when you’re in the moment you just got to do it.

My friend and I walk down an alley.  We think, certainly this has to be it.  It looks like the picture we saw online.  We walk down the alley.  There are no snakes, no people, only chickens and geese, unattended in cages.  We spend a fair amount of time searching for this snake alley and then give up.

With the Snake Alley a bust, we head toward one of Taipei’s most famous night markets, Shilin.  We walk out of the station, back into the night.  There is a cool breeze coming from the East. I can’t complain.  We see no signs for the market, so we wander into a small restaurant.  We take a seat and order two plates of pork noodles with cabbage and local beer.

First "real" meal in Taiwan. Pork noodles with cabbage and the salty red sauce.

The noodles themselves are bland, the pork salty.  I take some of the red sauce on the table and plop it onto my plate.  I hope for spice, I get salt.  Overall I think it’s a fine meal.  However, not much to write home about.

We leave the restaurant and continue to wander. We find alleys where one would expect life.  We mostly find prostitutes with their customers.  It’s only 10:30pm.

I feel a bit of defeat.  I suggest we head towards the hostel,

“I saw some street food around the corner, we can drink some beers.”

It’s agreed that we should just head back.

We arrive at our station and walk down the street to find only a few vendors still open.  She immediately begins ordering.  She asks my opinion about a few items, but does all the work.  I wait for the food and she runs to 7-11 to grab some beers.   As I wait, a man orders.  I look at what he gets and it looks divine.  I politely ask the woman running the stall, “what was that he ordered?”  She laughs a little and says, “It’s a Taiwanese hamburger.  It has pork belly, peanut powder, pickled cabbage, and parsley.”  I look at my bag of fried food and then order a hamburger.   My friend arrives with the beer and we opt for an al fresco meal.  We walk into an alley way and take a seat.  I take a bite of my “hamburger” and my taste buds explode with joy.  The parsley turned out to be cilantro.  The juicy pork belly melted in my mouth and the peanuts popped.  Every bite is like heaven.

I finish my “burger” and we take turns stabbing at the different fried bits inside the bag.  There are mushrooms, green beans, pigs blood cake, and chicken butts.   All of it is tasty.  We both finish one of our beers and head back to the hostel.  She has to work in the morning.  I have to get to Taichung.  We both have had full days, it doesn’t hurt to just chill.  I do have five days in Taiwan.  We sit on the couch in the common room and put on the TV.  There is a Kung-fu movie playing.  Our attention moves from the TV, to our beers, to a card game, mostly in that order.  The movie is great.  I don’t have television in Korea, so it’s a nice treat to be able to sit on a couch and just watch a film.  The movie ends, our beers are empty, we decide to go to bed.

I wake up with sweat on my brow.  For a minute I forget where I am.  My friend packs her belongings and we say good bye.  She needs to get to work and it’s going to be a commute back to her town.  I know I will be seeing her in about 30 hours, so it’s an easy good bye.  I take a shower and scrub the night off.

After the veil of night is gone, a minor buzz still rings in my head.  I push on into the city of Taipei.  This time I’m alone and move at my own pace.  I take my time looking at the different buildings and shops.  I walk all the way to Taipei 101, the second largest building in the world.  The walk is about 30 minutes.  I notice there isn’t much in the way of architecture in the surrounding area.  However, Taipei 101 doesn’t need any help standing out; it towers over the whole city.  The observation deck can’t be seen through the early morning fog coming down from the mountains.  I can’t help but be impressed.

Morning fog covering the spire of Taipei 101

I walk inside the building.  Like any other piece of human engineering the building boasts about itself.  The walls are covered with explanations of innovation and genius, even the elevator has a placard.  “This elevator was designed by the Toshiba Corporation.  This eleavator reaches speeds of 60km/h, making it the fastest in the world!”  Clearly they hadn’t yet changed the sign.  The current title holder for “World’s Tallest Building” is Burj Khalifa in Dubai and its elevator maxes out at 64km/h.

I ride the elevator to the 89th floor and walk toward the glass.  I notice the designs of gardens and rooftops.  It’s obvious the neighborhood surrounding 101 knows they are being watched.  A good amount of city planning was done to ensure the city is beautiful from above.

Looking down on the city.

Swirl gardens and Pagodas.

A quick digression:  Tall buildings, why do people love them?  I’ve been to quite a few towering structures in my short life time, the Empire State building, Namsan Tower, L’Arc du Triamphe and others I won’t take the time to mention.  All these places are the same, tourists taking pictures while waiting in line to get to the top, a few screaming children, and a ticket price that should include at least a beer when you reach the top.  People rush to the observation deck to snap the “Hey, look where I am!” picture, stand around for a few minutes reading whatever placards are present, look at how far away they are from home, and then leave.  I’m certainly guilty of doing this, but I wonder what is the reason people are drawn to these structures.  Do we need to look over the land that we have tamed to the best of our abilities, see cities and suburbs sprawling out, knowing that everything the light touches belongs to us?  There is a moment of possession which occurs while we are on top, it feels good, to look at what human ingenuity and engineering has created.  However, we can’t stay on top that long.  We must come down back to the reality that we are small and will fall one day, just like the buildings.  After going to Taipei 101, I don’t think I need to stand “on top of the world” again.  I just find it depressing.

I reach my limit in the clouds and head towards the MRT station.  I am bound for Taichung.

Forced to write…

“We’re going to be at Anna Maria Island, on the bay side for the weekend.”

“Please go on.  Tell me about how you’ll be at my favorite place in the world with palm trees, blue sky, and the crashing of waves on the shore.  I’ll just be on the other side of the world where the sky is green and acid rain is destroying everything in sight.  Oh and on top of that, I’m confined to a shoebox with a leaky faucet and busted ankle. So you guys have a great time.”

“Now that’s funny, LeeAnne.  You should take that and just write two paragraphs and see where you get.”

“Thanks Dad.  I’m sure it will end up on my blog.”

Low and behold everything is written above.

I’ve done a shit job of keeping up with my online persona.  That just means I’ve been too busy living to stop and write down all my misadventures.  Luckily for you, last week my world came crashing down and I’ve been forced to sit and ponder all too much.

To do a quick fast forward of what happened, I was leaving my friends apartment to go grab something from the convenience  store.  En route, I called a friend to see where their Friday night took them.  In a matter of seconds I find myself on the ground, my right ankle crushed under the weight of my body.  I missed a step in the courtyard.  Immediately I noticed my ankle was the size of an orange and it hurt like hell to walk on.  Some obscenities were uttered not only at myself, but at the inanimate object which I missed.  I waited out the night, thinking, “perhaps it will be fine in the morning.”  Of course it was worse, so I ended up at the hospital.  After one x-ray and some man handling by the nurse on staff, I had a boot on my foot and a pocket full of pain pills.  The rest just involves me living my daily life, with a more difficult time getting around than normal and a head full of drowsy drugged thoughts.  Thank god I didn’t have any classes this week.

My students are currently taking exams at their real school, so I opted to take some of my sick days and sit in my apartment in order to heal.  This of course ended up being a fantastic decision since there is currently a tropical depression’s outer bands having a field day with the weather.  It’s made for good company during the solitude.  The tapping on the window and clothes lines blowing in the wind.  Sometimes it’s the simple stuff which becomes a muse.  This is just the first in a series of posts which came together due to my accident.  Some of it was written by a progressively drugged out writer, who when reading the writing, couldn’t re-write.

Komodo Dragons, Cheetahs, and Island Spirits, oh my

So Thailand part deux is in the works and just about wrapped up.  However, there are things happening now that are just too funny to go unsaid. This past weekend has by far been one of the most ridiculous.

Ever since the weather started reaching temperatures above freezing I’ve been itching to explore.  About three weeks ago Erik and I decided it was an absolute necessity to get out of the city and into the rugged outdoors.  We found a website with a list of camping areas close to Seoul.  We found one on Ganghwa Island that is just 90 minutes outside the city, where you could rent tents for cheap.  Now we for some reason decided that we wouldn’t tell anyone else our plans and we would just escape the hustle and bustle of our friends and surroundings and venture forth into the unknown.  We originally had planned to go two weeks ago, however Erik caught some form of deathly cough that wouldn’t have been fun to share a tent with so we postponed until this past weekend.  Here is how our adventure unfolded…

After work on Friday night I met up with a few people and decided to do a night hike on a mountain close to work.  So at 10pm with a few beers, a guitar, and a flashlight, four of us ventured up the mountain.  Once we reached the peak we found a few chairs set up which overlooked all of Gwangmyeung.  On a clear night one can see Namsan tower and a few other landmarks throughout Seoul.  Unfortunately we were up there on a foggy, smoggy night so we couldn’t see much aside from the faint light of Namsan in the distance.  As we sat atop the mountain, we decided that we should start a fire.  The men folk took on the task and I sat happily in my chair being unproductive, waiting for the sweet warmth of a fire.  Four of us sat around the tiny campfire talking about nothing things, like ourselves and things we liked and disliked about our experiences here in Seoul.  At one point, someone picked up a guitar and started playing a blues riff.  From there he played and I made up a silly blues song on the spot.  One of our comrades became too much of a burden on the group so we had to close up shop on the mountain and head back to safe ground.  Unfortunately the said individual ended up hitting me in the face as I tried to help him up from falling down, only to run away into the darkness afterwards, like a weasel on crack, to be heard from a distance shouting ridiculous things like,  “Fuck your couch” and one of my personal favorites, “You’re a princess and you’re a bitch!”  Needless to say we were glad to be rid of the burden.  I made it home at a decent hour as to be raring to go for the camping trip.

Saturday:

Erik and I met at the bus stop and headed out for a quick peek at the cherry blossom festival downtown before escaping the city.  We ended up walking along the Han river in the opposite direction of the festival.  Ending up at the 63 building, one of the more famous buildings in Seoul, we figured out we had made an error and headed back towards the subway.  Being lazy we tried to hail a cab, but not many were willing to pick up two waygooks trying to go across the river.  We finally hailed a cab and headed to Sinchon station.  From Sinchon station we were supposed to to find the bus terminal.  We looked for a while and found no such bus terminal, but merely a big bus stop in the median of the road.  The directions I found on the internet were quite misleading.  Once we got to the median we had to try and figure out which bus would be able to take us to Ganghwa.  This proved to be an incredibly daunting task due to there being about 50 different buses that came to the “terminal”.  Finally I asked one of the bus drivers that was stopping and he pulled us onto the bus and took us to the next stop and told us which bus we needed to be looking out for.

For all future travelers to Ganghwa Island you can take bus 3000 or 3100 to get to Ganghwa.  The 3100 bus will take you to the south end of the Island near Mt. Manisan.  The 3000 bus will take you to the Ganghwa bus terminal near the Northeast corner of the island.  Erik and I were waved off from the 3100 bus and jumped onto the 3000.  For a mere 4,000 won we were on our way to the island.

The bus ride took a solid 90 minutes.  When we arrived on Gangwha Island, Erik and I were in a giddy state since we had made it to our destination.  We headed over to the tourist information desk so that we could get directions to the campground.  The campground we had found was called Ganghwa Humhuh Camp and the woman at the tourist desk had no idea what we were talking about.  Thankfully I had written down the phone number to the camp, however when the woman called there was no answer/the phone number didn’t exist.  Erik and I searched the English map and found a place called Ganghwa Humheo Camping Grounds.  The woman gave us the bus number that would get us down to the Southwest corner of the island (the 41), but it wouldn’t be departing until 7:10 or 8:30pm.  At this point it was around 5pm.  We had missed the bus that would take us there by about 15 minutes.  Major whomp.  We inquired about taxis and the woman, kept telling us “anniyo, anniyo, anniyo!”  Feeling a bit defeated Erik and I left the bus terminal in search of food since we had about 2 hours to kill before our bus would arrive.

As we left the terminal, we saw a huge line of taxi’s.  Clearly, there was a misunderstanding at the tourism counter, we thought, and hopped in a cab towards the campground.  20,000won (why the woman had told us not to take a taxi) and 30 minutes later, Erik and I were in the valley, looking at Mt. Manisan and getting really excited as we passed the main campsite.  As we walked up the hill we began to ask where we could rent tents. Everyone looked rather confused and waved us on to the next post.  When we finally got to the park entrance Erik and I had already programmed the words “rent” and “tent” into our Korean dictionaries.  As we showed our respective phones to the clerk, he simply laughed, shrugged, and said, “uh, no”

We couldn’t believe it.  We had been looking forward to this for three weeks.  I had done research, how could everything be wrong?  Erik and I decided we would just get a hotel room and get to the destinations we wanted to see on Sunday.  We walked away from the campgrounds hungry, sad, and ready to put our backpacks down.  We walked down a winding country road, knocking on door after door, like Mary and Joseph being turned away from every place we tried.  We stopped at one motel and began going down the list of places on our tourist map, only to be hung up on and receives answers of “No vacancy”.  Finally I found a place called Blue Motel that had a room available for 50,000won, but it wouldn’t be ready until 8pm.  Note it was about 6:45 at this point.  Feeling like we had a tiny victory we stopped at a restaurant and got some dinner.  We ended up eating dumpling soup, which was mediocre at best.  However, it was a warm meal and we were in dire need of some comfort.  We made a plan to go to the hotel and then try and find a beach so we could look at the stars.

As we were leaving the restaurant we asked our waitress, who actually spoke English, if she could call us a cab.   When the cab arrived outside the restaurant, he took us to the local bus station, Erik had accidentally told the waitress we needed to go to the bus station.  All we could do was laugh. We were both really fed up with the island at this point after being beaten down all day long.  We accepted our defeat and headed back to Seoul after accomplishing nothing all day long.

A little note about Ganghwa Island and why I think the island spirits cursed us. Ganghwa Island has been a key area of fortitude for the nation of Korea from as early as the Bronze Age.  Anytime the Korean peninsula was under foreign invasion, Ganghwa became the area from which the Korean government carried out business, this includes the Mongol invasions (the Mongol’s of course were deathly afraid of water) and French and Japanese attacks.  The Koreans are a homogenous nation and this island has served as their place of fortification against foreign influence.  To make a long story short, we weren’t welcome.

Sunday:

After a disastrous Saturday, I asked Erik on the bus ride home if he wanted to attempt and adventure again on Sunday.  He agreed to doing something and I decided that I wouldn’t tell him what I had in mind, but we should meet around 2:30 at the bus stop.  Meet we did and headed out towards the Southeast corner of Seoul, a little South of Gangnam.  We went to a place called Seorae Village, which is where about half of the French population of Seoul lives.  The sidewalks are blue, white, and red.  The signs are in French and Korean.  There are wine bars a plenty and bakeries with real French bread.

I owed Erik a decent meal since he has a bad habit of sneaking around and paying the bill when no one is looking.  I researched the different restaurants through out Seorae and found a tiny Italian place called Gran Piatte de Firenze.  We had dinner there.  The house red wine is an Italian Cabernet and it’s absolutely delicious.  I went with the course 3 meal, which included a tomato seafood soup full of mussels, clams, shrimp, and maybe octopus/squid; a greek salad with mixed greens, walnuts, and a balsamic vinaigrette; fried shrimp with artichoke sauce as an appetizer; a cream sauce spaghetti; and the dessert of the day.   The soup was stellar, the broth was hearty with a little kick.  The seafood was practically falling out of the bowl, that was the star of the show in my opinion.  The greek salad was a bit weak, I would have been happier with a few crumbles of feta or a few more greens on the plate.  The appetizer consisted of two whole friend shrimp, but the artichoke sauce was either invisible or forgotten.  A simple “sauce” of olive oil and balsamic vinegar with two capers and maybe a piece of fried garlic was what accompanied the dish, a little disappointing since I’ve been missing artichokes lately.  The creme spaghetti was like something my mom used to make.  Tasty, but needed a good bit of pepper to give it some flavor, perhaps a bit of salt may have helped too.  I’m still not too sure what the dessert I received was.  What I can tell you is that it was delicious, but odd.  It was a white, thick, vanilla flavored custard? with strawberry jam, served in a teacup.  Erik got some kind of pasta with an olive oil sauce, he raved about it, so I imagine it was good.

We left the restaurant with full bellies and happiness.  We decided that since we were in a realm where people cared about wine that we should find a wine shop and spend our evening enjoying everything we could.  We were treating ourselves, damnit, because Saturday had kicked our butts.  I had heard of a wine shop called Tour du Vin, which is known for their extensive wine list, however we had some difficulty finding it.  I found a resident of Seorae Village, a Frenchman of course, and he helped us find the shop.  Unfortunately they were closed at 6pm on a Sunday, but I did get to speak quite a bit of French as we wandered the streets of the petite village.

Erik and I ended up in a Jazz bar. Over the course of three more bottles of wine, we decided that when talking about our weekend we would tell tales of epic battles and courage.  These stories included me beating a cheetah in a race and Erik fighting a Komodo dragon.  Clearly we were of sound mind.

On the way home we actually ran into some of our friends and tried to tell of our mystical battles, however we crumbled into giggling fits.  Our friends walked away confused and a little scared, but we went home finally defeating the weekend.

Bangkok- Thailand Day 1 and 2

As some of you know the beginning of February signaled the beginning of the new lunar calendar.  In the Western world you’ll probably be more familiar with the idea of the “Chinese New Year.”  The Korean New Year, “Seolnal” often coincides with the Tibetan New Year, know as “Losar”, the Chinese New Year, the Vietnamese New Year, “Tét”, as well as a few other countries that are around North Eastern Asia.  What it means for us Expats is a few days away from work and a chance to explore this region of the world.  Now way back in November I told you, the fine readers of this here blog, that I would be traveling somewhere, and travel I did. After three months of holding my breath and about a month and a half of seasonal depression, the Lunar New Year arrived.

Tuesday February 1st:

On the evening of February 1st a few of my co-workers and I decided to celebrate by grabbing some Chinese food and drinks in Cheolsan.  We had gotten paid unexpectedly early, which was a phenomenal gift since most of us had been sustaining ourselves on ramyeon in order to save for our individual trips. Finally, there was no more concern of budgeting our respective vacations.  Erik was heading to Japan on Thursday, I was going to Thailand in the morning, and Tonya had enough money to actually book a trip.  She was a bit apprehensive towards spending the money, but after a good amount of alcohol there was enough badgering and assurance of later regret if she didn’t just do the damn thing.  Luckily for Tonya, Erik and I are the devil and she bought a plane ticket to Japan.

Wednesday February 2nd:

Now it’s fairly common for me to drink too much before I need to be traveling, my thoughts of course being, “I can sleep during the transportation.”  En route to Thailand proved to be no different.  I was to meet my fellow travelers at the bus stop at 6:30am.  Mind you I made it back to my apartment, barely, around 4am.  After several missed calls, I finally was roused from another dimension and realized it was 6:40am and I needed to be moving.  So in a matter of five minutes I finished packing my bags, got dressed, and ran down the street to barely catch the bus to the subway station.  Still drunk and now full of adrenaline, I thought to myself, I’m going to Thailand.

Living the dream, waiting on a plane

As you can tell from the photo above, I was fairly nonchalant about almost not making it to the aeroport, and panicking my fellow travelers.

After about 8 hours on a plane we had a layover in Malaysia, then another two hour flight to Bangkok.  As we landed in Malaysia I saw fields of palm trees and pineapples.  My heart fluttered.  I could feel the sun.  I was starting to feel good; really good, despite the throb in my gulliver and twangs in my gut.

From the moment you step off the plane in Thailand you can’t help but be over joyed.  The smell of incense wafts through the air, along with spices like curry, ginger, and garlic.  It’s intoxicating.

Upon arrival in Bangkok, we took a cab into the city and headed towards our hostel on Khoa San Road.  Khoa San Road is a sleezy backpackers paradise; full of hippies, pingpong shows, STRONG drinks, street food, performers, and souvenirs.  We arrived to our hostel around 9pm and after a long day of travel, the only thing to do is get begin drinking.  Rebecca, Abbey, and I hit Khoa San Road with money in our pockets, cameras in hand, and bellies in dire need of food.  There are a number of al fresco dining settings on Khoa San Road where one can enjoy a beverage and street food and watch the cavalcade of bohemian tourists stumbling down the street.  We chose a place that was simply and accurately named STRONG drinks.  Rebecca and I sat drinking in the balmy weather, eating pad thai and pineapples until the wee hours of the morn.

Abbey, being the sensible one, went back to our hostel so that she would be ready and raring to go for our tour of the floating market.

Thursday February 3rd:

I awoke feeling as though someone hit me over the head with a ton of bricks.  I stumbled my way into the bathroom and splashed a bit of cool water on my face.  This of course did nothing but leave me now wet faced and still miserable.  There was a mini-bus waiting outside our hostel and I was about to miss it.  Running down the steep stairs, with the alcohol still sloshing in my belly, I made it into the bus.   I made a valiant effort to sleep during our hour or so ride to Daemunsudak Floating Market, however the driver managed to hit every single pothole from Bangkok to Pratchanburri, making it impossible.  Still having the alcohol surging through my veins and now being subjected to Mr. Toad’s wild ride, I got lucky when the driver stopped to get some gas.

I politely asked the driver, “Excuse me sir, may I please go get a bottle of water?”

His reply was, “No!”

The situation wasn’t looking good, so I very honestly said, “Well, then can I please get out off the bus to puke?”  To little surprise he obliged my request.

I came back feeling like 1000 Baht and continued with the gang to Daemunsudak Floating Market.

The Floating Market:

We had all been warned about getting scammed when wanting to tour a floating market in Thailand.  Sometimes there will only be stalls of scarves, coin purses, and other useless knickknacks that overwhelm the canals, leaving little room for the boats of fresh fruits, vegetables and spices.  We arrived at the market a little later than we had hoped, but were placed on our own private boat and sent off into the market.

Traffic jam at the floating market

Daemunsudak has the equivalent of New York City rush hour going on at all times.

There are shops on the banks of the canal as well as boats functioning as small specialty shops.

Epic spice rack

I was more interested in buying the fresh mango and spices that were being offered by the passing boats than the silly knickknacks being forced into my face.  Some boats were small floating restaurants where old Thai women were frying batches of chicken in the biggest wok I’ve ever seen.  Other boats were specifically for mangos and pineapple.  Other still specifically sold spices.

Mango merchant

Pancake merchant

Probably the most epic way to fry chicken

Hats hats hats

I purchased a plate of fresh mango, unfortunately it was over ripe and had been sitting in the sun for a few hours and later made me incredibly sick, however I didn’t let that hinder my experience.   I purchased a spice kit that I have been enjoying that included dried birds eye chilies, curry powder, ginger powder, kaffir lime leaves, coconut powder, lemongrass, coriander, saffron, and a few things I’m still not sure of.  Our driver manuvered through the canal traffic and eventually took us on a 30 minute tour of the neighborhood.  The river was lined with homes and small shacks.  Some of the homes had old men and women dangling their feet in the water, enjoying the early afternoon; others had young children waving at the boats passing by.

pots by the waters edge

River view

Finally, we made it back to the dock where the tour ring-leader scooped us up and herded us into the mini-bus.  We made it back to Bangkok around 1:30pm and there was a general consensus in the group a nap was in order.   I dozed off for about an hour, then pulled my life together and went out onto Khoa San Road in search of a banana pancake and a few souvenirs.

Bangkok:

A note on the banana pancakes-on the Wednesday evening it was my mission to eat pad thai on the street, as well as a banana pancake.  Apparently there is only one banana pancake street vendor on Khoa San Road and he moved all the fucking time.  Excuse my language, but drunk or sober, it’s incredibly frustrating to find this banana pancake vendor.  It took me a good 30 minutes to track him down.  When I finally found him I happily ran up to the cart and asked for one banana pancake.  Now this isn’t your Bisquick pancake with slices of banana on top; this “pancake” is more reminiscent of a French crepe.  The man slammed down the fresh roti dough, stretching and spreading it until it was as thin as paper.  He then put the dough on a hot wok and sliced bananas into the center.  Following this step he scooped up this electric orange butter and let it begin to fry the under layer and sides of the pancake.  He wrapped it up in a neat package, flipped it a few times so the outside was golden brown.  He then plopped it down on a paper plate and cut the pancake with his spatula, gave me two toothpicks and told me to enjoy.  ENJOY I DID.  It was amazing…I’m sorry I didn’t eat 10 of them while I was there.

I made it back to the hostel feeling accomplished just as Rebecca and Abbey were waking from their naps.  We decided it was time that we went to the National Palace and Wat Pho.  We quickly exited the hostel and made our way to Bangkok proper.

When we arrived at the Palace, it was closed.  To our great disappointment we arrived 30 minutes after it had closed, mind you it was 3:30pm at this point.  We were convinced it would be open until at lease 5pm.  Unfortunately we were wrong.  We hung our heads in shame and went exploring around the are surrounding the palace.  We stumbled upon a pier where boat tours of Bangkok were available.  The three of us decided it was either do this or waste the whole day we had set aside for exploring in Bangkok, so we hopped on a boat and were shown all the different river neighborhoods of Bangkok.  We saw the slums, the mansions, and the cozy homes all along the banks.

succulents infront of a slummy house

A Chinese house

I'm on a boat!

There were young boys swimming in the river, splashing and waving to all the tourist who stumbled into their backyards.

Boys in the river

More boys in the river

We even saw a Komodo dragon sunning himself on some bamboo reeds. The tour lasted about an hour. We were lucky enough to watch the sun set along the river.  It was glorious.

Wat Pho at sunset

After our tour it was decided that a meal was necessary.  Maybe 200 feet from the pier was a small market selling meat on sticks, various soups, spices, knickknacks, as well as small al fresco restaurants.

Market near the Grand Palace in Bankok...by the way those fruits are called mangosteens and they taste nothing like mangos

Meat on a stick!!!!

We sat down at one of the first restaurants and ordered.  I had an amazing red curry with rice, Rebecca had an amazing black bean noodle dish, and Abbey got fried rice.  Our meal cost us $3 and that included the ice cold bottle of Coca-Cola.

heaven on a plate

With full bellies we made our way back into the streets and found ourselves confronted by a “tourist police officer”.  This man wanted to know what we were doing with our evening and offered to make sure we had a good night.  We were all a little wary of taking the man’s help since scams are abound in Bangkok.  However, finally we agreed to let him help us after many “Okay, you see the 53 meter Buddha.   You see him, very big.  53 meter! It’s free today, you are so lucky!  Oh you see my friends they make you beautiful suits!!  Then you go to China Town.  You know it Chinese New Year?!  You see fireworks!  You trust me, I get you good deal”  Who could argue with logic like that?  The man hailed us a tuk-tuk and we were off into the balmy Thai evening.

As promised we ended up at the feet of a massive golden Buddha.  The Buddha rose above the buildings overlooking the city as to bring a sense of peace and harmony to the bustling city below.

That's one big Buddha

I wandered around the temple, looking at the creation myth murals that  ornately covered the walls.  There were statues of small Buddha’s all through out the open courtyard.

Ornate temple walls

A few people were anointing themselves with oil and water, placing wreaths of gorgeous yellow and white flowers, or bowing at the Buddha’s feet.  I put some money in the offering box and placed a flower at the feet of the Buddha and placed some gold flakes on my forehead.  I wanted to stay around the temple for a while, however my fellow travellers grew bored rather quickly, due to their lack of interest in architecture and Eastern religions.  So we left the giant Buddha and went back out into the bustling city.

Our next stop was at a tailor shop, which was pretty funny.  The men were really trying to get us to buy suits for our “boyfriends, fathers, brothers, or sons.”  Clearly we didn’t go all the way to Thailand to buy suits so we politely bought some ties (get it?) and left as quick as we could.

The final stop on our tuk-tuk tour of the city was to China Town.  To little surprise the place was absolutly packed.  We pushed our way through the crowded streets that were lined with people selling everything you could imagine from fresh fruit to jewelry, t-shirts-childrens toys.   They had everything.  We spent around 2 hours in the crowds, being able to witness the Chinese dragons chasing out the bad spirits, as well as some traditional music.  It was pretty amazing, but we had to get out of the crowds.  I know I felt like I was suffocating.

So we made our way back to Khoa San road, knackered from our day. We decided to go one street over from Khoa San to try and get some food and drink to bring us back to life.  We ended up at a cute little al fresco restaurant where peddlers came to your table to sell you whatever they had (pagoda hats, bracelets, frog noise makers).  We saw a little boy arguing with the men at the table next to ours.  He wanted them to buy flowers, but they were just arguing with him saying they didn’t need any flowers.  Finally the 10 year-old bitch slapped one of the guys and left.  I just burst out laughing, I mean really what else can you do in that situation.

The three weary travellers didn’t make it very long that evening.  We were in bed at  a reasonable hours since we were heading down to Dolphin Bay early the next morn.

In the works

Ok so I have three posts in the works.  I’m not happy with any of them at the moment, so you don’t get to see them.  Sorry.

It’s taken a bit of time for me to edit and choose the photos from Thailand that really encapsulate the moments where words just don’t do justice.  Thailand is broken up into two parts.  The third post is from my trip to the DMZ.  I should have them up by the end of the week, depending on how many essays I get graded over the next few days.

Hope everyone is enjoying the tip of Spring.  We’re getting teased over here, for sure. I’m ready for the whole thing to just burst open, so I can revel in the warmth and escape from my state of hibernation.

Bugz and blood…A food diary

Well hello friends and lovers!  I’m back to give you another tasty bite out of my reality here in the Land of the Morning Calm.  My reality is pretty monotonous now that I have fallen into my routine and had enough soju hangovers to really make me think twice about that devilishly cheap liquor.  Alas, from time to time I make it out into the world and have myself an adventure.  Here is a little slice.

About three weeks ago a few of us had the bright idea to go sledding.  We were starting to grow tired of the walls in our apartments that keep us cozy and warm.  It was decided that if the weather was going to be cold, we might as well be doing something enjoyable while we were freezing.  This of course was decided during a drunken Friday night rambling session that took place in my apartment.  We would leave around “noon, or one, definitely not before noon.”  We all eventually parted ways to sleep off the alcohol we had so heavily consumed.

The next day I awoke with strange memories of sledding discussions. I pulled myself out of bed and started to prepare for another snow activity cherry pop.  I sent out the feelers to those who had been in my abode the evening before and received quite a few responses of “No, I’ll be staying in bed.”  Those bums.  I made my way down the list and got to Erik. He to almost no surprise was the only one that was willing to adventure a bit and go sledding.

We departed to our destination of Seoul Land.  Neither of us really knew what to expect, other than apparently Seoul Land is a theme park and they have sledding.  With that lack of knowledge we ventured beyond the city limits to the south east corner of the subway system.

After about an hour on the subway we reached our destination.  We emerged from the underground to find ourselves, in the middle of the mountains, not a skyscraper in sight.  I was immediately giddy since I was out of the city and smog, breathing fresh mountain air.  We began to search around for any sign that might point us in the proper direction of our destination.  My limited Korean got us in the general direction and we began to walk.

Now on this walk we saw few familiar things, a 7-11, a KFC, and Dunkin Donuts.  We also saw some fairly unusual things.  There were five or six old Korean women, often called Ajuma’s, who were sitting in front of rather large cauldrons of odd smelling liquid and charcoal grills.

Ajumas selling their goods. Photo courtesy of Erik Dornnik

Upon taking a closer look at the cauldrons we saw they were filled with bugs.  Erik and I both decided we were going to “ball up” at eat some when we finished sledding.  We continued walking until Erik stopped dead in his tracks, stomped his feet, and flapped his arms like a five year old having a tantrum saying quite assertively, ” I want to eat bugs!”  I couldn’t help but stop in minor disbelief at the display in front of me.  I could only reply, “Well, okay then.  Let’s do it.”

My comrade and I walked up to next vendor and asked for one cup of bugs.  There was of course a lot of charades and broken Korean, but the woman handed us a dixie cup, full to the brim.  It was only after some research we found out these were silkworms.

Dixie cup full of silkworms

She gave each of us a toothpick and told us to “enjoy”, with a less than Colgate smile.  We walked away content with our purchase, laughing at the fact she gave us a WHOLE cup of bugs.  We wanted to eat one, maybe two, but certainly not a WHOLE cup of silkworms.  We each took our toothpick and speared our tiny snack.  We cheersed one another and counted to three, then popped the bugs into our mouths.  I made the mistake to chew and felt the shell and innards disperse in my mouth.  Erik simply swallowed.  As you all might be able to guess, the dining experience was less than pleasant.  We both made horrified faces, shouted a bit, and definitely gagged.  The taste of a silkworm is similar to that of a boiled peanut.  I’m not a particular fan of the Southern snack, so this wasn’t a fond reminiscent moment for me.  After a minor freak out, Erik decided to eat another silkworm, just to make sure he knew he didn’t like it.  This is what he thought:

Erik's delight as he ate another silkworm. Photo courtesy of Erik Dornnik

Clearly he changed his mind.  I felt as though I need to not be such a girl and eat another bug as well.  My face was equally as miserable, however, there is no photographic evidence.  We both were feeling pretty proud of ourselves for eating two bugs, so we tossed the remaining 200 that were left in our cup and ventured onwards to try and find Seoul Land.

After getting confused a few times, we made it to the entrance of the theme park.  Now there is something to say about going to a theme park that is not Disney, Universal, Six Flags, or some other major branch.  Seoul Land is equivalent to a permanent carnival in the mountains.  However, they had one major factor that made me feel like I was home, if only for just a few brief seconds.  See for yourself:

Baby EPCOT ball!!!!!

That’s right, they have a miniature EPCOT ball. I pretty much jumped up and down and had a minor freak out in disbelief.

We made our way to the sledding fields where there were long lines, filled with parents and bratty children with no concept of queue etiquette.  I suppose growing up at Disney my level of patience for this ignorance is incredibly low, but I seriously was about to push children so there wouldn’t be such a massive gap between me and my first sledding experience.  I get excited for new things, sometimes more than I should.  Perhaps it was the bug juice pumping through my veins.  The sledding field was set up so about 20 sleds could go at once, all very regulated and slightly dangerous.  Can you imagine me, on a sled, high on bug juice, trying not to kill a small child, as 20 other people whiz down a hill also?  If you can, you should be laughing right about now.  If not, well…let’s just say it’s quite a hilarious scene.  Here’s a quick preview of the sledding:

Kinda lame, but dangerous sledding adventure at the carnival in the mountains

And here is me sledding:

Me on a sled before I almost take out a small child. Photo courtesy of Erik Dornnik

So we did the run about four times and then called it quits.  I had ice all over my bum and was on the verge of being cold+wet=miserable.  We decided to wander around the park checking out the rides and food situation, since we had only eaten two bugs.  We found some kebabs so I flipped out and had to eat one immediately.  The kebabs here in Korea are nothing like a real kebab.  Instead of sauce blanche or tzatziki to make the kebab incredibly delicious, they usually have ketchup.  Whomp to infinity.  We ate them happily though just because it was better than the bugs we had earlier in the day.

We managed to find the one roller coaster the park had and decided we should ride it, even though it was freezing outside.  Although the roller coaster wasn’t anything to shake a stick at, it was surprisingly fun.  Once we finished with the ride it was time to start the trek back home and begin a night of festivities.

One might think the adventure day would stop after we left a theme park and ate bugs.  However you would be incredibly wrong.  Our adventures had only begun for the day.  We made it back to Gasan-dong, our neighborhood and agreed to meet up in an hour for some real food.

This is where the night begins to get interesting.  Erik and I, as well as our co-worker Tonya have been making an attempt to explore our local neighborhood so we don’t have to venture to the crazy foreigner ridden areas of Seoul and pay for expensive taxi’s home at 5am.  Erik and I were making our second venture into the neighborhood to try and find a local pub or restaurant we could call homebase.

We wandered around the streets for a while searching for a place to eat/bar to end up at later in the evening.  After circling a few blocks, we decided on this snazzy looking restaurant. We were seated and given silverware. However, after we had removed our coats and got settled in, the manager or executive chef came to our table and told us we needed to leave.  Apparently the restaurant was having a soft opening for the evening and weren’t accommodating randoms.  So we pulled our coats back on and headed out into the cold in search of a hot meal.  We passed a small bar called the “Black Hole”  and we agreed that we should make it a stop at some point in our evening after we fed ourselves.

We wandered around a bit more and finally walked into a restaurant with a picture of a king on it.  This place Gogi King (Meat King) is a meat buffet where you can eat as much Korean BBQ you want.  It’s pretty much amazing.  You pick your meat, you cook your meat, no one hovers over you, and everything is delicious.  We stuffed ourselves and then made our way back into the cold.

Another foreign teacher we know named Eric joined forces with us that evening.  We continued to wander around the streets looking for a bar and finally decided to end up at the Black Hole, just to get out of the cold.  Now upon walking into the four table restaurant/bar we were clearly the only foreigners that dared to enter the premises.  I’m not sure who felt more awkward, but everyone was highly aware of each other in the restaurant.  We ordered drinks and the woman who owned the restaurant was trying to get us to eat food there as well.  Again, in broken Korean and a few rounds of charades I managed to say we did not want to eat, we only wanted to drink.  There was a couple at the table next to us that had a copious amount of food on their table.  As we waited for our drinks the man at the table next to us began trying to force feed Eric a food called Sundae.  Now, sundae is not ice cream.  It’s a blood sausage that is a traditional food here in Korea.  I knew immediately what it was, however Eric had no clue.  He tried to tell the man he didn’t want it, but he would not relent.  Finally Eric opened wide and ate it.  Before we knew it we had a plate of sundae, kimchi, sliced blood clots, peanuts, and small dried fish on our table.  Everyone in the restaurant was watching us to see if we would take on the challenge of eating the food.  Erik and I had already eaten bugs today, so blood clots and blood sausage weren’t the craziest we were going to get.  The blood sausage was surprisingly good. I would certainly order it again, but somehow try to get past the idea that I was eating blood.  We cleaned the majority of our plates, drank quite a bit, and left the Black Hole.

We stumbled down the street to a bar Erik and I had found the week before.  Upon the previous visit to this pub we would have never guessed that it was a lively hotspot or the fun and games that would manifest themselves.  When we walked into the pub there was a man throwing his beer glass at a target attempting to win another beer.  Immediately we were intrigued, sat down, and ordered the giant cups of beer that we could throw.  It turned out the mugs were made of ice.  We drank a few of these brews, threw our cups, came away empty handed, but content with our find for the evening.  Here we are in our attempts at greatness:

Eric getting ready. photo courtesy of Erik Dornnik

Erik's got his game face on. Photo courtesy of that guy

I'm so concentrated...I want that free beer. Photo courtesy of Erik Dornnik

The three of us ended up drunk, in a norae-bang (karaoke room).  We sang for about an hour or maybe more, time flys when the soju flows.  Finally we realized it was about 4:30am and we should probably try to make it to bed before 5.  Erik and I put Eric into a taxi and then headed back to our respective apartments.  It took us a whopping 7 minutes to walk home.  A glorious break from the expensive hour long taxis home.

 

Snowboarding:A Story of Love and Hate

On the weekend of December 18th I finally managed to do something I’ve always wanted to do, snowboarding.  Now being from Florida and with parents in the hospitality industry, the opportunity never presented itself.  So after some harassment from a fellow FSU alumni, I found myself awake at 3:30am on December 18th, pulling enough warm clothes and toiletries together to survive two days at a ski resort, after only having gotten 2 hours of sleep.  This is nothing new, just a perpetuation of my procrastination and insomnia.

Meeting at the train station around 4:45am we began the four hour journey to Yongpyong Ski Resort, near the eastern coast of South Korea.  We made the journey via the subway and then chartered bus, sponsored by the travel group DiscoverKorea.  This group plans activities and also gets great discounted rates on all sorts of outdoor adventuring.

Anywho, we arrived at the resort around 9:30am and I quickly became separated from my comrade as I have a tendency to do.  In doing so I found a lovely Kiwi named Kate who was willing to take me under her wing, showing me the “slopes” of snowboarding.  Kate decided that it would be better to just jump right into an intermediate slope since I would be able to get my bearing quicker than the bunny slope.  Being naive, I agreed.  During my first run down the intermediate slope and my third fall, I flipped over myself severely bruising my tailbone in the process.  So I pretty much hurt myself immediately, as expected.  About 15 wipeouts later it was time to go back to the top and try again; I was already hurt and feeling fairly defeated, but determined to get the hang of it.

Upon my second run down the slope, I only crashed once.  Needless to say I felt like a badass.  We got a few more runs in and then decided to go to the top of the mountain, via the gondola.   Now I didn’t have any intention of going down the 5k “beginner” run of Yongpyong, however, I was informed that no one goes to the top of the mountain without snowboarding down.  No one wants to do the ride of shame.  Again being cocky and naive, agreed that I would totally go down the 5k, because I was a “badass” and  “doing really well for my first day.”  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

In order to psych myself up for this 5k adventure down the slope, I had some pork on a stick and a cup of water in the peak cantina, mainly because I didn’t think about bringing money with me on the slope and it was all I could afford.  After my hearty meal, I decided that I was ready to conquer the mountain.

At the peak of Yongpyong

Looking over the edge of the mountain, into the vast haze and brilliant mountains, almost able to see the sea, I realized my current altitude.  Then I looked at the incline of the slope.  I gulped, I wanted to die, I wanted the ride of “shame”.  Never have I wanted to give up on something so much in my entire life.  However, with an audience of two I began the 90 minute trek down the mountain.

I do believe that was the hardest 90 minutes of my life.  The run was full of ice and only small pockets of powered snow to make the ride less brutal.  The wind was blowing, the temperature was freezing, and all I wanted to do was drink a beer.  There were countless issues I fought on the mountain, demons, tears, and 2 foot gaps between the netting and mountain.  However, I made it down, in one piece, no tears.  I can honestly say I felt more accomplished getting of that god forsaken rock than when I graduated from FSU; it certainly took more dedication and work.  I was rewarded with a Korean version of Natural Light and left the slopes happy to be done.

The group we traveled with planned a massive dinner packed with cheeseburgers, hot dogs, Korean BBQ, and chili.  Oh sweet Western food fare, how happy I was to eat you.  At dinner the whole group drank, ate, and engaged in merriment.  A handful of us stayed in the hostel dining hall drinking and trying to figure out what to do with our evening.  There was a K-pop concert taking place at the bottom of the slopes, a bowling alley, or a norae-bang from which to choose.  None of them seemed too appealing. Therefore we continued to consume alcohol, until someone thought it would be funny to go to the K-pop concert.   We stayed at the concert for all of 20 minutes due to the freezing temperatures and the terrible music.  Everyone I had been drinking with decided it would be a good idea to go skiing and snowboarding at midnight, however, I declined.  I completed a 5k, I couldn’t sit down, I was done and ready for some sleep.

The next morning, I awoke completely unable to move.  Making my way down to the mess hall I grabbed a muffin, some instant coffee, and painfully brought my hands towards my mouth in order to feed myself.  I ran into a few of the other adventurers who were heading to the sauna at the resort next door and figured the heat would do my soul some good, as well as have nice facilities in which to shower.

Now a word on Korean saunas.  The saunas are segregated based on gender due to the “full nudity” rule.  That’s right, just you and your gender Koreans walking around in the nude.  Foreigners understandably feel a little uncomfortable in these situations since the Koreans have a tendency to stare at the unfamiliar.  So my white skin, blonde hair, and other “differences”  made me stick out like a sore thumb.  I sucked it up and went into the sauna happy to have the heat surrounding my body.

Once I could no longer stand the heat, I made my way back to the hostel to meet up with a few of the rowdy crowd I had met the night prior.  The day continued on the sauna path and I found myself at an indoor water park with out door hot tubs.  The afternoon was spent drinking beer in hot tubs, something that is surprisingly encouraged here in Korea, unlike the US where every hot tub I’ve ever seen says “DO NOT ENTER, if you’ve been drinking”.  Needless to say it was a necessary course of action after the beating my body endured 24 hours prior.  After another 4 hour trip, I finally made my way back to my apartment, fell into bed and cursed Yongpyong, that god-forsaken mountain.

 

 

Temple adventure

If ever one was to be considered as an epic failure at keeping a blog, I might just win the prize.  Here I am half way across the world not regularly documenting like I should.  Whoops.  I’ll curse myself in the future, but for now I’ll try to update the best I can. At the beginning of December I made the conscious decision to get out there and start seeing some of the sites around Seoul. It only took me eight weeks to make it happen, but who is counting?

My first venture, and one thing I hope to continue doing once the weather becomes more tolerable, was to visit a Buddhist temple.  A few of my friends and I ventured to Mt. Inwangsan to visit the Shamanic Temple active in the Bonwon sect of Buddhism.  I chose this particular temple based on the Bon religion in Tibet, hoping there would be some relation.  Unfortunately, I never learned if I was correct in my assumptions as the temple was closed or deserted upon arrival.  It took quite a long time to figure out exactly where the temple was located due to our lacking Korean language skills and having missed the easily accessible entrance near the subway exit.  So after an hour of hiking around the mountain and stumbling onto some hermit’s land we finally made it to the temple.

Sitting on rocks looking down at part of the temple

From this spot on the mountain you could see the hazy skyline of North Western Seoul.

Looking out over the Western Seoul Skyline

Fun fact for your day! Mt. Inwangsan is considered one of the most spiritual places inside Seoul.  Women come to this mountain and pray in front of various rock formations in hopes of bearing a son.  The mountain is also home to San-shin or “The Benevolent King” and his pet “Crouching Tiger”.

San-shin "The Benevolent King"

Crouching Tiger...now where is that dragon?

Coming down off the rocks, we ventured onward towards the temple, only to lose our way once again.  On the verge of giving up and figuring out we had made it to the base of the mountain, Erik (one of the fellow adventurers) and I decided to give it one last try and found ourselves in the middle of temple grounds, or so we thought.  The Shamanic temple is now just a small neighborhood with a temple that is apparently closed on mid-Sunday mornings.  We did find some interesting artwork as well as the famous bell of Inwangsan.

Padlocked temple and I

An indication we were near the temple

So can these doors go in my hope chest?

Ring my bell

Peel me a grape, bitches