Last weekend was a perfect example of the possibilities this land offers to the intrepid (reckless?) explorer. At 8:00 p.m. I boarded a bus for Seosan, a small city near the west coast of Korea. This seemingly nondescript city is currently the hometown of an old friend from the University of Minnesota, Kelsey Hotle. Thanks to a reference from a mutual friend and the miracle of Skype, we were planning to reunite in Korea for a weekend of cultural education and light-hearted adventure. The initial itinerary included a trip to Heyri, a village of artists near the North Korean/South Korean border, dinner at a temple-style restaurant called Sanchon in Seoul, and a visit to the Baekje cultural festival. But, as the saying goes, "If you want to make the universe laugh, make a plan."
When Kelsey came to meet me at the bus station, we had every intention of taking a quick tour of Seosan, saying hello to a few friends, and getting some sleep before catching the early morning bus to Heyri. Instead, we were treated to an elaborate birthday celebration at an empty Korean nightclub, complete with fire-breathing bartenders, juggling waiters (full disclosure - they actually dropped all the juggled objects), and an enthusiastic Korean man dancing around in a horse mask. We proceeded from there to a norabong, or karaoke room, where we sang alongside some friendly Korean people whose incredible generosity was matched only by their terrible pitch. We left the norabong as the sun was rising, and after a quick breakfast of bibimbap (a giant bowl of rice with vegetables, an egg, and some other miscellaneous ingredients) we packed our bags and boarded the bus to Heyri. The only thing we forgot to do was sleep. It was now Saturday morning
Later that night, we were standing at Seoul Station buying train tickets to Daejeon, completely sleep-deprived and mildly delirious. The battery on my camera was completely dead, its charge exhausted by the flurry of pictures taken at Heyri. Elegant sculptures, avant-garde architecture, Korean hipsters, creepy cartoon figures - all were captured by my Nikon DSC. Heyri was a microcosm of the confusing/beautiful/disjointed/fascinating character of Korea.
One building housed a full replica of a Korean village circa 1950, complete with nostalgic Konglish guide brochures (sample text -"We remember times of scarce that our grandfathers fought on.") and an sixty year old piano that Kelsey's brother Brad played admirably well. Only a few hundred meters from this bastion of national history and social commentary sat an IKEA, stocked with reasonably priced mixing bowls and decorative soaps.
We saw a Museum of Toys, and a Museum of Blades. We saw an old school-bus-turned-jewelry-shop that sold exquisite hair pins, and an exhibit devoted to cats that was so hip it featured a impressionist painting of a sphinx right next to a movie poster for Garfield 2. We saw so many bizarre and interesting things at Heyri that my brain is still struggling to properly digest the whole experience. But the most beautiful works of art were found at our next destination.
Nestled in a back alley of Insadong, a market district of Seoul, Sanchon restaurant was an absolute godsend for our feverish and road-weary minds. As we sat on cushions around the low table, surrounded by statues of the Buddha and traditional Korean artwork, we gazed up at the lotus-shrouded lights and the feeling was quite surreal. For some reason, we spoke in hushed tones, and had our words appeared in print each sentence would have ended with a !
A woman brought out dozens of small dishes filled with delicious vegetarian dishes - mushrooms, kimchi, lotus roots, stuffed peppers, wild vegetables, and much more. Though we were all absolutely ravenous, we took the time to savor each mouthful. It was one of the most spiritual meals I've ever eaten, and though we didn't talk about this at the table, I think that thought was in all of our minds. Check out the menu here; my words don't do the actual dishes nearly enough justice. When we finished our meal, blissfully satiated and half-asleep, dancers entered the center of the restaurant dressed in ceremonial Korean clothing. They performed traditional Korean dances and played drums, at one point inviting patrons to join them in a drum circle that started slowly and gradually escalated to a feverish joyful cacophony. When it was over, we sat quietly for a moment and then slowly made our way toward the door, full of food and happiness.
Out in the streets of Insadong, surrounded by loud merchants and merry denizens of the night, Kelsey and I faced an important decision to make, one posed most eloquently by the Clash - should we stay or should we go? Actually, that doesn't make much sense considering our situation, so let me explain our options more clearly. To "stay" meant to find a hotel in Seoul or return home to our respective cities for a much-needed night of sleep. We had been awake for at least 36 hours straight and we were both completely exhausted.
To "go" meant catching a train to Daejeon, a large city about two hours away from Seoul. There was a music festival there which several of Kelsey's friends were attending. It would have been very reasonable to pass on this opportunity and return home - we had experienced quite enough for one weekend. But any real explorer loves to test the limits of their endurance, and so we decided to head for Daejeon.
This situation is a perfect illustration of why you should always travel with someone who is at least 15% crazier than you - if Kelsey hadn't been there, I am sure I would have returned home, simply because that is my natural tendency. I'll have four pieces of cake, but not five. It just doesn't occur to me, once I am satiated, to reach for another slice. But on rare occasions, gluttony can be a good thing.
This appreciation is easy to reach in retrospect, but it was harder to grasp as I lay on the floor of a standing-room only car on the train bound for Daejeon, clutching at my bag and trying unsuccessfully to pass out. A standing room only train car in Korea is a cutthroat place, and space is at a premium. For a foreigner with long legs and a fierce headache, it's an uncomfortable place to be. Luckily, the trip was rescued by a most unexpected savior.
Somebody sat on my shoe, and I started up, ready to be scolded by an elderly Korean aujima. Instead, I was greeted by three Korean girls with bright smiles and funky shoes. After a brief exchange of pleasantries in English and Korean, it became clear to Kelsey and me that these girls were eager to practice speaking English with us. And so began one of the most entertaining journeys of my life.
The girls, who were high school students from Daejeon, had spent the day in Seoul at the university taking music lessons. They were aspiring singers who idolized Western musicians like Alicia Keys, Celine Dion, and the Spice Girls (when it comes to musical taste, to each their own, I believe). The more we learned about these girls, the more amazed I was to be having this conversation, at this time and in this place. Let me explain.
The life of a Korean teenager is highly regimented - they attended "regular" school while also taking math, music, or English lessons, and most of their time is spent studying for one test or another. Some kids rebel and act out, to be sure, but not in the ways typical to the West. You don't find 16 year old kids trying to buy beer at the liquor store (or convenience store, in Korea), or smoking cigarettes behind the high school, or anything like that. The overwhelming majority of Korean teenagers seem to live firmly under their parents' control around the clock, all year long.
Yet apparently they also enjoy a degree of freedom most American teens would envy greatly (I know my sisters would never have been allowed to take a train from Minneapolis to Chicago by themselves at the age of 17). I found it extraordinary that these girls were travelling without parents to a city of 10 million people, spending the entire day there, and then returning home on an 11:00 p.m. train that night. Even more surprising was the fact that, during our entire two hour conversation, they never once mentioned doing anything that their parents might disapprove of.
We taught them the essentials of American slang (yo, dude, punk, trippin', sweet). They taught us the dance moves to a K-Pop song with the startlingly Western refrain of "You don't know me, you don't know me...shut up boy! Shut up boy!" We talked about significant others, and our mutual lack of them. In short, we talked about all the silly, empty little things that help you build a connection with people when you are a foreigner in their country. At times like this, the simple act of conversation means more than the content.
We got off the train in Daejeon, said goodbye to our new friends, and promptly sent our taxi driver on an hour long snipe hunt. When we finally reached our destination, we were greeted by a horrifically untalented rock band. On a scale of 1-10 my sleep-deprivation headache had been an 8 before entering the establishment; upon leaving, it was a 47. As we left the bar, we ran into a couple of very friendly Korean musicians who were enamored of Kelsey. Several hours later, their admiration for her was overwhelmed by their distaste for the male members of our group, and they ran out of the restaurant, leaving us with a 75,000 won bill for "KF-style chicken". And that was the highlight of our actual stay in Daejeon.
It's a cliche that the journey is often more important than the destination. Still, there is a nugget of truth to the saying here (though in fairness most cliches are true, if also infuriatingly smug and simple). We had fun in Heyri, we had fun in Seoul, and we had fun in Daejeon. But we had more fun in the places in between. We never expected to see anything in particular, and we didn't compare any situation we encountered to a preconceived notion of what it should be. And thus, we were never disappointed. We've got some great pictures to prove it.
At least, Kelsey does. My camera died in Heyri. Which is why my #1 rule of traveling in Korea (or anywhere) is:
Always charge your battery before you leave the house. And bring a spare if you can.
ummm. Nick... I found your blog only because I googled my name out of curiosity and boredom.
ReplyDeleteI must say 2 things.
1. It made me so happy to read this.
2. You are an excellent writer.