After 3 weeks away from Seoul, as I rode the bus to the airport, I was wondering how it would feel to be going back. Would I be dreading leaving the cosy world of the UK with its soothing Radio 4 Today programme as a constant background, fresh porridge for breakfast every morning, fabulous countryside and its wild and windy beaches? Not to mention the fantastic shopping. But we don't mention that since the credit card bill arrived.
In fact, sitting in the departure lounge in Dubai (don't ask why, long story... and even longer route) the sound of Korean being spoken all around me was lovely. The departure lounge in Heathrow had been silent, but here were people chatting happily to each other and the sound was good.
Studying the faces around me, I was struck by what a strong-looking bunch the Koreans are on the whole. They generally have good skin, are stockily-built and have expressive eyebrows that show a lot of character.
Yet the way they wear their clothes is very different. To a foreigner, the style can be quite remarkable. Korean men tend to wear their trousers held up by a belt that is not very far at all below their nipples. This makes even the ones who are in good shape look pretty womanly. Most people wear glasses, and the older guys (often the rich ones carrying the real Vuitton attache cases) wear the big, plastic frames so loved by the North Korean leader Kim Jong Il (and which probably provide the confirmation that the rest of the world needs that he is utterly bonkers).
Culture shock or not (see the Horrible Hangang post), I like the Koreans so far and can only imagine that three years here will give us a good glimpse of a very unusual people.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
41 Horrible Hangang
Could it be that after such a seamless and enthusiastic arrival to this place, I am beginning to suffer from delayed culture shock? It is either culture shock or the delayed effects of the 9 hour jet lag on returning from the UK that have served to make me see the place thru different eyes of late (and perhaps combined with the total frustration of not being able to fully understand the lingo).
On Sunday afternoon, we decided to take the girls for a go on their new scooters. They have what they call a river side park here which runs along both sides of the huge Han river.
Unfortunately they also built Seoul's major motorways along both sides of the river. Normally we go to Yeohido, where the cycle path is further from the road, but we didn't have time so we went to the place closest to our house. We had to park under the motorway in the middle of four lanes of traffic then cross the traffic with kids and scooters to get to the underpass into the park (Nice!).
As we went through the underpass we could see the river. "Oh, how lovely," I thought.
Emerging from the subway into the "park" (notice the use of inverted commas) we found ourselves in a concrete jungle. The "park" is actually a cycling track which runs under the motorway along the river, surrounded by concrete pillars and waste ground and with the muddy banks of the river sliding by. "Gosh, this is a very urban place," my husband ventured to say.
Hangang Park was quite busy with cyclists wearing full body gloves, shades and air filters over their mouths sometimes playing loud music from the speakers attached to their bikes. They also had cycle bells which did not adhere to the traditional "ting ting" of an actual bell. The bells on these high-tech wonders sounded like you were being shot at by an invading army of aliens.
We also saw a really very fat lady standing on a skate board which was being pulled along by a small, pug-like dog. The dog was wearing a harness that looked as if it could quite possibly have been purpose built for the job. She stood, poker-faced as she glided along the pathway while the dog made strange rasping noises as moved along.
This being Korea, the infrastructure is all very well maintained, but ii is all, sadly, so far from the traditional interpretation of the word "park". If, like me, you had just flown back from a glorious weekend in the stunning Hampshire countryside complete with pheasants, deer and enormous views of magnificent pastural land, you too would have been almost crying.
There was so much petrol in the air it made our mouths taste odd. Looking across the river we could see lots and lots of utilitarian, severe-looking blocks of flats and yet more motorway. Looking ahead we saw the Banpo Bridge which is a two tier bridge of, you guessed it, motorway. The only thing puncutating the wasteground was a series of red signs saying "Danger". What of, we wondered? Falling cars? Later on we saw some English graffiti on one of these saying "Again... what of????". Deep frustration felt by many perhaps?
When we got home, husband said to the girls, "Well, that was fun, wasnt it?"
"No, not really Daddy! We will not go back to that place", our eldest daughter replied.
On Sunday afternoon, we decided to take the girls for a go on their new scooters. They have what they call a river side park here which runs along both sides of the huge Han river.
Unfortunately they also built Seoul's major motorways along both sides of the river. Normally we go to Yeohido, where the cycle path is further from the road, but we didn't have time so we went to the place closest to our house. We had to park under the motorway in the middle of four lanes of traffic then cross the traffic with kids and scooters to get to the underpass into the park (Nice!).
As we went through the underpass we could see the river. "Oh, how lovely," I thought.
Emerging from the subway into the "park" (notice the use of inverted commas) we found ourselves in a concrete jungle. The "park" is actually a cycling track which runs under the motorway along the river, surrounded by concrete pillars and waste ground and with the muddy banks of the river sliding by. "Gosh, this is a very urban place," my husband ventured to say.
Hangang Park was quite busy with cyclists wearing full body gloves, shades and air filters over their mouths sometimes playing loud music from the speakers attached to their bikes. They also had cycle bells which did not adhere to the traditional "ting ting" of an actual bell. The bells on these high-tech wonders sounded like you were being shot at by an invading army of aliens.
We also saw a really very fat lady standing on a skate board which was being pulled along by a small, pug-like dog. The dog was wearing a harness that looked as if it could quite possibly have been purpose built for the job. She stood, poker-faced as she glided along the pathway while the dog made strange rasping noises as moved along.
This being Korea, the infrastructure is all very well maintained, but ii is all, sadly, so far from the traditional interpretation of the word "park". If, like me, you had just flown back from a glorious weekend in the stunning Hampshire countryside complete with pheasants, deer and enormous views of magnificent pastural land, you too would have been almost crying.
There was so much petrol in the air it made our mouths taste odd. Looking across the river we could see lots and lots of utilitarian, severe-looking blocks of flats and yet more motorway. Looking ahead we saw the Banpo Bridge which is a two tier bridge of, you guessed it, motorway. The only thing puncutating the wasteground was a series of red signs saying "Danger". What of, we wondered? Falling cars? Later on we saw some English graffiti on one of these saying "Again... what of????". Deep frustration felt by many perhaps?
When we got home, husband said to the girls, "Well, that was fun, wasnt it?"
"No, not really Daddy! We will not go back to that place", our eldest daughter replied.
40 Panic attacks in the classroom
It has been a while since my last blog session. Been away, got back and went straight to school having missed a few days. You would think I had not spent a whole term slaving away at this wretched language. Unbelievably difficult to learn, I have zero capacity to remember the sounds of the new vocabulary that we learn. And I have retained a tiny proportion of what we covered last term. All a bit depressing really... if I hadn't put so much effort in already I would be tempted to give up, but I feel that I have done so much that I shoudl push on to get results. I had to resist a strong urge to throw my book at the teacher, burst into tears and stomp out of the room, shouting "I can't DO it" on Friday.
I resisted the urge, did masses of homework over the weekend, listened to nothing but the practice CD on my ipod and seem to be getting back into the swing of things.
Imagine my delight after another tough study session, to finally get up to the computer for a relaxing session on my newly upgraded blog site, to find that the whole bloody thing has been turned into Korean script. AAAAAAAAgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I resisted the urge, did masses of homework over the weekend, listened to nothing but the practice CD on my ipod and seem to be getting back into the swing of things.
Imagine my delight after another tough study session, to finally get up to the computer for a relaxing session on my newly upgraded blog site, to find that the whole bloody thing has been turned into Korean script. AAAAAAAAgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Monday, December 11, 2006
39 Turkey for a Turk
I read a letter to the Economist the other day from a Turkish person, complaining that for the whole of December people make poultry jokes to him. Apparently, Turkye (the real name) just means Land of the Turks which has quite a grand ring to it, I thought, and in no way brings to mind images of wobbly-chinned, flightless birds.
And on Saturday we invited some friends around for lunch, and since I had been at Costco and they were selling frozen British Turkeys, I decided to buy one and cook it for this gathering. I have never cooked a turkey for a Turk before. It was a triple honour to have 3 Turks tucking into their turkey. Perhaps this should be a new verse for the 12 days of Christmas...
And on Saturday we invited some friends around for lunch, and since I had been at Costco and they were selling frozen British Turkeys, I decided to buy one and cook it for this gathering. I have never cooked a turkey for a Turk before. It was a triple honour to have 3 Turks tucking into their turkey. Perhaps this should be a new verse for the 12 days of Christmas...
Monday, December 04, 2006
39 Christmas shows
Eldest daughter is now singing the full programme of her school Christmas show, for most of her waking hours. They have practiced it 250 times, she told me today, so it promises to be excellent. There is rebellion among the Year 1 boys who are playing travellers and are required to "skip around" a bit - they don't like the skipping and the braver of them are refusing to skip in dress rehearsals. We await the show to see if they are persuaded otherwise!
We don't need to wait to hear the music which we have heard non-stop. As she brushes her teeth,her dulcet tones ring out: "Thousands and thousands of angels in the skyyyyyy, the Shepherds couldn't believe their eye - ey- eyyyyysssss".
Getting dressed, she mixes it up a bit: "It's a long way to travel to Bethlehem, tra la la, and Mary did a poo in her pants tra la la, baaaayyy beee Jesus got wee in his hair, And we all go to Bethlehem."
We are glad the kids are getting some of the Christian stories through school, given our particularly lame effort in this area. Not that we wish our kids to grow up fearing the Almighty and quoting passages of the Old Testament at us, but we feel we ought to at least let them become familiar with a Christian upbringing. Our Muslim and Jewish friends who also have to send their kids to the same school (on account of there is not very much choice in Seoul for English Language education) don't share quite the same view, and have been quite alarmed to hear their children saying grace before dinner, and talking authoritatively about the birth of Jesus Christ the Lord! "I just really hope he doesn't say any of this in front of my mother in law when she comes to stay," said my Israeli friend! ha ha.
Our school is probably the least religiously-hardcore of all the foreign schools in town, but because it follows a British curriculum, the Christmas Term has a heavy nativity-theme. A new school just along the road from our house is an American school, apparently funded by and run along quite christian zealot principles.
Seoul is full of illuminated crucifixes punctuating the city sky line at night, from all the Christian churches. Over the last 50 years or so (I should check details but it is pretty recent) many Koreans have shifted their afilliation from Confucian and Buddhist beliefs to Christianity. The missionary zeal is still strong and I am forever being accosted on the street by missionaries wanting to save my soul, or having my door bell rung by Jehovahs Witnesses.
We don't need to wait to hear the music which we have heard non-stop. As she brushes her teeth,her dulcet tones ring out: "Thousands and thousands of angels in the skyyyyyy, the Shepherds couldn't believe their eye - ey- eyyyyysssss".
Getting dressed, she mixes it up a bit: "It's a long way to travel to Bethlehem, tra la la, and Mary did a poo in her pants tra la la, baaaayyy beee Jesus got wee in his hair, And we all go to Bethlehem."
We are glad the kids are getting some of the Christian stories through school, given our particularly lame effort in this area. Not that we wish our kids to grow up fearing the Almighty and quoting passages of the Old Testament at us, but we feel we ought to at least let them become familiar with a Christian upbringing. Our Muslim and Jewish friends who also have to send their kids to the same school (on account of there is not very much choice in Seoul for English Language education) don't share quite the same view, and have been quite alarmed to hear their children saying grace before dinner, and talking authoritatively about the birth of Jesus Christ the Lord! "I just really hope he doesn't say any of this in front of my mother in law when she comes to stay," said my Israeli friend! ha ha.
Our school is probably the least religiously-hardcore of all the foreign schools in town, but because it follows a British curriculum, the Christmas Term has a heavy nativity-theme. A new school just along the road from our house is an American school, apparently funded by and run along quite christian zealot principles.
Seoul is full of illuminated crucifixes punctuating the city sky line at night, from all the Christian churches. Over the last 50 years or so (I should check details but it is pretty recent) many Koreans have shifted their afilliation from Confucian and Buddhist beliefs to Christianity. The missionary zeal is still strong and I am forever being accosted on the street by missionaries wanting to save my soul, or having my door bell rung by Jehovahs Witnesses.
38 Brass Monkeys on the Korean Peninsula
It is seriously brass monkeys here now. The temperature has dropped about 15 degrees (that is C, not F) in the last two weeks and the days are now hovering around or below zero degrees. If, like us, you haven't had a cold winter in eight years, you really really notice how cold it is.
Korean women get a name for having a penchant for fur, and I can see why. It is not so much because of vanity, but because they make for the warmest coats you can buy to protect you from the icy Siberian winds. Any minks running around in my garden would not last long.
It is amazing that there is a population here at all and they didn't all freeze to death going out to check that their fermenting cabbage vats were not going solid during the winter months. But then they did invent under floor heating systems which must have been a joyful discovery for them!
They are a tough looking bunch in winter - the dark warm clothes seem to accentuate their hardy build - or perhaps it is only the hardy tough looking ones who take to the streets on these chilly days. All the skinny super models probably stay at home and watch Style TV - number 555 on the cable TV network and even worse than "it's-crap-but-it's-the-best-there-is" BBC World.
Frighteningly, it is still about seven degrees off the average winter temp of minus seven. Since that is the average, and it goes down to minus 20 sometimes. I don't think we will be able to go outside if it gets down that low. Or if we do make it out the door, we will be wearing so many clothes it will be hard to do anything other than roll down the hill forming a human snow man.
Korean women get a name for having a penchant for fur, and I can see why. It is not so much because of vanity, but because they make for the warmest coats you can buy to protect you from the icy Siberian winds. Any minks running around in my garden would not last long.
It is amazing that there is a population here at all and they didn't all freeze to death going out to check that their fermenting cabbage vats were not going solid during the winter months. But then they did invent under floor heating systems which must have been a joyful discovery for them!
They are a tough looking bunch in winter - the dark warm clothes seem to accentuate their hardy build - or perhaps it is only the hardy tough looking ones who take to the streets on these chilly days. All the skinny super models probably stay at home and watch Style TV - number 555 on the cable TV network and even worse than "it's-crap-but-it's-the-best-there-is" BBC World.
Frighteningly, it is still about seven degrees off the average winter temp of minus seven. Since that is the average, and it goes down to minus 20 sometimes. I don't think we will be able to go outside if it gets down that low. Or if we do make it out the door, we will be wearing so many clothes it will be hard to do anything other than roll down the hill forming a human snow man.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
37 Koreans in the Rain
The first time I saw Korean people in the rain, it was from the shelter of the bus stop while I was waiting for the school drop off. A tour group of Koreans were leaving a bus and having to make it about 3 metres across the pavement to the safety of McDonalds. They were running as if the sky was raining white hot iron filings on their heads, shrieking and grabbing at any form of plastic bag or umbrella device they could lay their hands on.
It turns out that they believe that the rain makes you sick, and so they are afraid of precipitation. And since it doesnt rain here much except during the summer monsoon, they are perhaps not as used to it as people who come from soggy countries like England!
On the way back from Taekwondo tonight there was a miniscule amount of wetness in the air - we wouldn't even describe it as spitting in the UK. But everyone was walking along under their umbrellas, terrified of getting sick. A lady helpfully told us to put our hoods up and hats on or we could get rained on (gasp in horror).
Surely if rain really made you ill, approximately 60% of the UK population would be permanently off sick?
It turns out that they believe that the rain makes you sick, and so they are afraid of precipitation. And since it doesnt rain here much except during the summer monsoon, they are perhaps not as used to it as people who come from soggy countries like England!
On the way back from Taekwondo tonight there was a miniscule amount of wetness in the air - we wouldn't even describe it as spitting in the UK. But everyone was walking along under their umbrellas, terrified of getting sick. A lady helpfully told us to put our hoods up and hats on or we could get rained on (gasp in horror).
Surely if rain really made you ill, approximately 60% of the UK population would be permanently off sick?
36 First snow
The temperature has been plummeting here, and I have been buying tights, furry boots and jackets like there is no tomorrow. After 8+ years of living in hot places we have zero cold weather kit. The first day that it froze, our eldest daughter didnt even have a coat to wear to school so we got her to do star jumps on the pavement while waiting for the school bus. An emergency trip to Doota clothing store in Dongdaemun market ended in the purchase of a very nice pink duffel coat for her.
When husband was sent to Shanghai on a business trip, he was also drafted into action with a shopping list of items that he dutifully found. Coats for the girls, a very nice Marc Jacobs handbag for me (lucky old me) - you must always have the essentials!
And this morning the garden table is dusted with snow. Breakfast was a debate about whether it was snow or frost. An official inspection revealed that it is indeed snow, but only a tiny bit.
Youngest daughter was determined to skate down the slide because of the "huge" quantity of ice on the slide. I cannot wait for a big snow fall.
More snow later in the morning caused great excitement in my Korean class, but the rest of the day was damp, wet, cold and dark - reminiscent of a raw winter day in the UK. Still, with most days here being bright blue icy cold skies, the odd wet one is no problem.
When husband was sent to Shanghai on a business trip, he was also drafted into action with a shopping list of items that he dutifully found. Coats for the girls, a very nice Marc Jacobs handbag for me (lucky old me) - you must always have the essentials!
And this morning the garden table is dusted with snow. Breakfast was a debate about whether it was snow or frost. An official inspection revealed that it is indeed snow, but only a tiny bit.
Youngest daughter was determined to skate down the slide because of the "huge" quantity of ice on the slide. I cannot wait for a big snow fall.
More snow later in the morning caused great excitement in my Korean class, but the rest of the day was damp, wet, cold and dark - reminiscent of a raw winter day in the UK. Still, with most days here being bright blue icy cold skies, the odd wet one is no problem.
35 Life Changes
So all of a sudden our lives have changed with the news that both our fathers have got forms of cancer. Just as we were bidding goodbyre to our friends who came to stay, husband received a call from his dad to tell him that he has been foudnt o have a 9cm tumour in his oesophagus. A very scary thing to discover, and it was a real jolt to get the news. So we thought about it over the weekend and decided that we ought to go home for Christmas and lend some support, see him and everyone.
And walking to the Emirates office to book our tickets the sun was shining and I was looking around at everyone going about their business in the crisp clear air. And pondering that here I was knowing that my dear father in law is so ill, and there he is in Scotland living and knowing that he has this horrible thing inside him, while the rets of the world continues to spin and go and be busy. And a horrible thought crossed my mind... that previous times when we have had awful news out of the blue, there has always been a follow up hit. Just when you think that that things couldn't get worse, they do.
So I booked the plane tickets, went home and sat at the computer to check my emails. Suddenly my skype rang and it was my dad. Most irregular, he rarely calls if my mum is not around, and certainly not on a weekday morning. "I have something to tell you," he said. "I have also been diagnosed with cancer, but mine is at the other end'". Shit, rectal cancer, that is possibly even worse than oesophagus, I thought. Actually, he has cancer of the prostate, the reference to the "other end" was just his way of breaking the news in a slightly confusing way.
So we seize the day, don't waste a minute, and treasure our loved ones. Even if they can be frustrating at times, we will surely miss them when they are gone, and you never know when that is going to happen.
And walking to the Emirates office to book our tickets the sun was shining and I was looking around at everyone going about their business in the crisp clear air. And pondering that here I was knowing that my dear father in law is so ill, and there he is in Scotland living and knowing that he has this horrible thing inside him, while the rets of the world continues to spin and go and be busy. And a horrible thought crossed my mind... that previous times when we have had awful news out of the blue, there has always been a follow up hit. Just when you think that that things couldn't get worse, they do.
So I booked the plane tickets, went home and sat at the computer to check my emails. Suddenly my skype rang and it was my dad. Most irregular, he rarely calls if my mum is not around, and certainly not on a weekday morning. "I have something to tell you," he said. "I have also been diagnosed with cancer, but mine is at the other end'". Shit, rectal cancer, that is possibly even worse than oesophagus, I thought. Actually, he has cancer of the prostate, the reference to the "other end" was just his way of breaking the news in a slightly confusing way.
So we seize the day, don't waste a minute, and treasure our loved ones. Even if they can be frustrating at times, we will surely miss them when they are gone, and you never know when that is going to happen.
Friday, November 03, 2006
33 The sad ending of Doogie the Dog
The last time I mentioned the neighbours' dog, I was reporting his tragic demise while his owners were away on holiday. We had left him at the vets, and the animal doctor was making the necessary arrangements to dispose of him. In Korea, by law, you must cremate your pet when they go.
The kids were altogther pretty confused about Doogie. While he was staying with us, they liked to sing his name: "Doogie Doogie Doogie, Doogie the Dog," to the tune of my husband's ring tone. Since he has died, they are now singing, "Doogie Doogie Doogie, Doogie is dead", completely matter of fact. I dont think that they quite get it.
Due to time pressures, I ended up taking the youngest daughter with me when I went to pick him up after the cremation. We walked into the animal hospital to a waiting room full of live pets, and said to the girl on the desk, "I've come to pick up Doogie," giving her what I hoped was a knowing, secretive and furtive look and hoping she would cotton on quickly and make it as non-obvious as possible that I was here to collect a pet that hadn't got better.
She looked at me blankly, so I had to glance around to make sure noone could hear "You know, Doogie, the dog who died," I hissed at her.
"Oh yes, oh I am so sorry," she said, reaching under the front desk and presenting me with a neat, square little cardboard box.
"Here he is."
"Thanks, how much is that?" I asked.
"That will be 200,000 won," she said (US$200 to do a small dog - bloody hell, I thought, Korea really is expensive!). I counted over the notes, and we started to leave, whereupon the daughter piped up, "Where's Doogie?" she asked.
We stepped outside and I had to explain that Doogie had been made into powder now because he was dead, and he didn't need his body any more and he had gone to live with the angels in the sky and could probably see again now that he was in heaven and play with all the other dead dogs spirits, just like in the Disney film Brother Bear. But that he wasnt coming back. Again. Ever (although his owners were coming back in three days and I wasn't looking forward to that at all).
We took the box home and waited the three days for the neighbours to come back. They have been so good about it all, and it makes us feel even more awful than we already did. Added to which, the darn children keep asking our neighbour where the bloody dog is, nearly every time we see her. She remains so cheery, but I suspect that she has shed tears about this loss and sorely misses her strange little blind companion.
We are never looking after anyone's pet ever again. No class pets, no friends' pets, no relatives' pets. And we are not getting a pet of our own for a very long time.
The kids were altogther pretty confused about Doogie. While he was staying with us, they liked to sing his name: "Doogie Doogie Doogie, Doogie the Dog," to the tune of my husband's ring tone. Since he has died, they are now singing, "Doogie Doogie Doogie, Doogie is dead", completely matter of fact. I dont think that they quite get it.
Due to time pressures, I ended up taking the youngest daughter with me when I went to pick him up after the cremation. We walked into the animal hospital to a waiting room full of live pets, and said to the girl on the desk, "I've come to pick up Doogie," giving her what I hoped was a knowing, secretive and furtive look and hoping she would cotton on quickly and make it as non-obvious as possible that I was here to collect a pet that hadn't got better.
She looked at me blankly, so I had to glance around to make sure noone could hear "You know, Doogie, the dog who died," I hissed at her.
"Oh yes, oh I am so sorry," she said, reaching under the front desk and presenting me with a neat, square little cardboard box.
"Here he is."
"Thanks, how much is that?" I asked.
"That will be 200,000 won," she said (US$200 to do a small dog - bloody hell, I thought, Korea really is expensive!). I counted over the notes, and we started to leave, whereupon the daughter piped up, "Where's Doogie?" she asked.
We stepped outside and I had to explain that Doogie had been made into powder now because he was dead, and he didn't need his body any more and he had gone to live with the angels in the sky and could probably see again now that he was in heaven and play with all the other dead dogs spirits, just like in the Disney film Brother Bear. But that he wasnt coming back. Again. Ever (although his owners were coming back in three days and I wasn't looking forward to that at all).
We took the box home and waited the three days for the neighbours to come back. They have been so good about it all, and it makes us feel even more awful than we already did. Added to which, the darn children keep asking our neighbour where the bloody dog is, nearly every time we see her. She remains so cheery, but I suspect that she has shed tears about this loss and sorely misses her strange little blind companion.
We are never looking after anyone's pet ever again. No class pets, no friends' pets, no relatives' pets. And we are not getting a pet of our own for a very long time.
32 Introducing Hangeul Mal
So my last update was October 10th and it is now November 3rd. My comfortable easy life ended abruptly on October 16 when I started a course at the Ewha Women's University to try to learn this damn lingo, Hangeul Mal or Korean. For four hours a day, five days a week I am sitting in room 218 of the lnaguage centre trying to make head or tail of a language that certainly has me baffled so far. The Korean alphabet was invented in the 15th century by some scholars who were commissioned by the reigning King in order to make things simple and enable people to easily communicate. Apparently until then, they had all been struggling with various systems mainly based on Chinese characters and this had been too hard for them or something. So in true far east style (Why do cell phones from around the world not function in Korea or Japan? Because they have their own independent non-cooperable systems), they made up their own.
The alphabet, I will admit, is amazingly systematic and easy to learn. If you can ignore the fact that depending on their position in a "letter", the individual characters an have totally different sounds: an "s" positioned at the front of a word sounds like an "s", but at the end of a word sounds like a gorilla grunt, a truncated Ugh sound without the "gh" bit, but with your mouth in position to say it.
Once you have remembered that, you need to start getting to grips with word order. As far as I know so far, time seems to go first, then the subject or the object(it doesnt matter which because you have to remember which mini-marker word to put with each part of the sentence to identify it)and the verb goes at the end (and has various different endings depending on whether you are talking past, present or future and also if you are being polite or casual). If you are using a time expression you must remember to say "Ae" after it, and if you are denoting a place you must also say "Ae" after it - Koreans would do well in Liverpool!
Oh yes, and they have two systems of numbers: a sino-Korean and a pure-Korean set. But when they tell the time, they like to use the pure-Korean for the hours, but the Sino-Korean for the minutes and seconds.
So you can see that it is a positive doddle.
Add to all of this the totally weird sound of the language which makes remembering even a simple syllable quite hard to master, and you are looking at an interesting challenge! Korean numbers 1 - 10 sound like this:
Hannah
Tule
Se(t) (you dont fully pronounce the t)
Ne(t) (same as above)
Ta Ssot
Yor Ssot
Ill Gop
YoDol
A Hop
Yol
In fact, I am totally loving learning it, and in the three weeks I have been going we have really learnt a lot.
The alphabet, I will admit, is amazingly systematic and easy to learn. If you can ignore the fact that depending on their position in a "letter", the individual characters an have totally different sounds: an "s" positioned at the front of a word sounds like an "s", but at the end of a word sounds like a gorilla grunt, a truncated Ugh sound without the "gh" bit, but with your mouth in position to say it.
Once you have remembered that, you need to start getting to grips with word order. As far as I know so far, time seems to go first, then the subject or the object(it doesnt matter which because you have to remember which mini-marker word to put with each part of the sentence to identify it)and the verb goes at the end (and has various different endings depending on whether you are talking past, present or future and also if you are being polite or casual). If you are using a time expression you must remember to say "Ae" after it, and if you are denoting a place you must also say "Ae" after it - Koreans would do well in Liverpool!
Oh yes, and they have two systems of numbers: a sino-Korean and a pure-Korean set. But when they tell the time, they like to use the pure-Korean for the hours, but the Sino-Korean for the minutes and seconds.
So you can see that it is a positive doddle.
Add to all of this the totally weird sound of the language which makes remembering even a simple syllable quite hard to master, and you are looking at an interesting challenge! Korean numbers 1 - 10 sound like this:
Hannah
Tule
Se(t) (you dont fully pronounce the t)
Ne(t) (same as above)
Ta Ssot
Yor Ssot
Ill Gop
YoDol
A Hop
Yol
In fact, I am totally loving learning it, and in the three weeks I have been going we have really learnt a lot.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
31 Food Guide Update
I have just updated my food blog to include the tale of the raw crab lunch which you may be interested to read about. Click on my food blog link to see it.
Monday, October 09, 2006
30 Nuclear test day
So Kim Jong Il has gone and done it and tested one of his nuclear weapons in the middle of a hill somewhere less than 400kms from where I am sitting I expect. All a bit mad really, from the country where some of the annual festival events include coordinated dance routines with 6000 people all dressed in chicken suits strutting their stuff.
Not for the first time, we find ourselves watching BBC World from unnervingly close to the action, but of course being the mere mortals we are, being utterly powerless to do anything about it. Dinner party chat this weekend touched on subjects like escape plans should the shit really hit the fan (train to Busan and fast ferry to Japan, perhaps?), and how far the Won will likely devalue in the event of serious manoevrings from the international community. Then chat moved on to the really serious issues of the nearest place to buy Marmite, and whether the rumours of waterproof nappies being available in one of the foreign supermarkets here were really true!
And to top it all, nuclear threats aside, there was a terrible accident on Sunday afternoon. Doogie the blind 14 year old dog that we were looking after for our neighbours while they are in the UK was involved in a very small accident when a car came down the hill too fast. He was just clipped by the car and sustained no physical injury, but it seems the shock of the event was too much for him and he died of a heart attack or stroke on the spot. Total nightmare. We called the nieghbours who have been very good about it, but they dont get back until Friday. It is awful waiting to face them, and instead of Doogie and his mummy and daddy having a joyful reunion, to present them with a box (jar?) of ashes. He is due at the crem today and I will have to go and pick him up tomorrow.
Not for the first time, we find ourselves watching BBC World from unnervingly close to the action, but of course being the mere mortals we are, being utterly powerless to do anything about it. Dinner party chat this weekend touched on subjects like escape plans should the shit really hit the fan (train to Busan and fast ferry to Japan, perhaps?), and how far the Won will likely devalue in the event of serious manoevrings from the international community. Then chat moved on to the really serious issues of the nearest place to buy Marmite, and whether the rumours of waterproof nappies being available in one of the foreign supermarkets here were really true!
And to top it all, nuclear threats aside, there was a terrible accident on Sunday afternoon. Doogie the blind 14 year old dog that we were looking after for our neighbours while they are in the UK was involved in a very small accident when a car came down the hill too fast. He was just clipped by the car and sustained no physical injury, but it seems the shock of the event was too much for him and he died of a heart attack or stroke on the spot. Total nightmare. We called the nieghbours who have been very good about it, but they dont get back until Friday. It is awful waiting to face them, and instead of Doogie and his mummy and daddy having a joyful reunion, to present them with a box (jar?) of ashes. He is due at the crem today and I will have to go and pick him up tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
29 Bloody North Korea
We have been talking lately about how great things are here. We love our house, husband is happy in his job, kids are settled in their schools, the country is great, Koreans are lovely, food wonderful, culture immensely interesting etc etc.
The only thing that could really blow all of this for us, baring injury, is the threat of a North Korean spac attack that hits the South Korean economy (or worse, the Won) badly and leaves us faced with an evacuation to... um, where would we go?
So imagine my surprise and dismay when I flick onto the news today and find that the headline is that bloody North Korea is threatening to test its nuclear weapons. Aggghhhhh. Brilliant.
And having been so pleased with ourselves for managing to leave Thailand weeks before the coup, this rather diminishes our self-congratulations. Yes, well done guys, move from a country where a major political event results in zero bloodshed and everyone just carries on as normal, to a place where the insane dictator who lives about 70kms from your house is deciding that now is the time to flex his nuclear muscles. Oh yippedy doo dah.
The only thing that could really blow all of this for us, baring injury, is the threat of a North Korean spac attack that hits the South Korean economy (or worse, the Won) badly and leaves us faced with an evacuation to... um, where would we go?
So imagine my surprise and dismay when I flick onto the news today and find that the headline is that bloody North Korea is threatening to test its nuclear weapons. Aggghhhhh. Brilliant.
And having been so pleased with ourselves for managing to leave Thailand weeks before the coup, this rather diminishes our self-congratulations. Yes, well done guys, move from a country where a major political event results in zero bloodshed and everyone just carries on as normal, to a place where the insane dictator who lives about 70kms from your house is deciding that now is the time to flex his nuclear muscles. Oh yippedy doo dah.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
28 Interesting days
I am loving Seoul. Our day-to-day in this glorious end-of-summer weather is darn near perfect. Leaving the house early each morning, Child 2 and I make our way through the crisp morning air to the road where we catch the blue 110 bus to her pre-school. If I use the smart money card to pay my fare there and catch the bus back within 30 minutes of dropping her off, they don't even charge me for the return part of my journey, such is the efficiency of the public transport system here. You can hop on and off all day long if you want without paying a new fare each and every time.
Last week I went to get my driving license. Husband's secreatry accompanied me to help me through the Korean forms I needed to fill in. I reckon I could have managed without her since people are so helpful and I only needed to write my address a few times and do an eye test (learning the Korean alphabet was useful for the eye test part which was picture symbols and Korean letters). But I doubt I would have been able to go through the whole process in 27 minutes which is what we managed to do together. I havent actually driven yet (rather afraid to prang husband's new exec mobile given my shocking record of minor traffic incidents), but will soon take to the roads.
Korean driving skills are in stark contrast to their naturally homogenous and nationalistic outlook. Once in their cars, every Korean is his or her own man (or woman). Lanes are drifted across at speed, vehicles are cut up with gay abandon. People park all over the place, taxis wait on pedestrian crossings, and motorcycles zoom down the pavements. In a way this is liberating and highlights the individual character of the people which can sometimes become subsumed by a reluctance to critisize anything or anyone Korean, either because of national pride or a desire to be respectful. In other ways, it represents a severe threat of an accident in the early days of driving before one is fully accustomed to driving on the right hand side of the road.
Last week I went to get my driving license. Husband's secreatry accompanied me to help me through the Korean forms I needed to fill in. I reckon I could have managed without her since people are so helpful and I only needed to write my address a few times and do an eye test (learning the Korean alphabet was useful for the eye test part which was picture symbols and Korean letters). But I doubt I would have been able to go through the whole process in 27 minutes which is what we managed to do together. I havent actually driven yet (rather afraid to prang husband's new exec mobile given my shocking record of minor traffic incidents), but will soon take to the roads.
Korean driving skills are in stark contrast to their naturally homogenous and nationalistic outlook. Once in their cars, every Korean is his or her own man (or woman). Lanes are drifted across at speed, vehicles are cut up with gay abandon. People park all over the place, taxis wait on pedestrian crossings, and motorcycles zoom down the pavements. In a way this is liberating and highlights the individual character of the people which can sometimes become subsumed by a reluctance to critisize anything or anyone Korean, either because of national pride or a desire to be respectful. In other ways, it represents a severe threat of an accident in the early days of driving before one is fully accustomed to driving on the right hand side of the road.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
27 Some observations
We have just had our first electricity bill of US$900 for 4 weeks. So I am writing this inside a fairly dark house at night, and without air con!
Koreans love spam, that gross fatty mashed up ham that comes in a tin. Spam hampers are on massive displays in CostCo food stores and for the Chusok festival, Spam hampers are big presents. The last time I came across Spam was when I wrote my first promotion for Glasgow's Evening Times' marketing department. It was my lofty duty to write the copy for a reader competition to win one of two Spam hampers donated by a local supermarket, and also the first time I ever saw my own words published in print. I worked really hard and the competition was one of the most successful of the year - I am still not sure to this day if this was because of my terrific and enticing copy that had readers buying multiple copies of the paper just to enter the competition. Or whether it was simply a reflection of the disgusting eating habits of some elements of the population in the West coast of Scotland at that time.
Some friends of ours have just announced that they are pregnant with a baby due in March next year. Our daughters were delighted with this news.
"Guess what, remember Peta and Steve?" I asked them, "Well, Peta has a baby in her tummy so they are going to be a Mummy and Daddy next year."
"Cool, so they will be a Mummy and Daddy instead of just being visitors," observed our eldest daughter.
Last weekend we had a trial run looking after our next door neighbour's elderly dog in preparation for possibly looking after him for two weeks while they go on holiday.
Dougie Dog is a 14 year old, westhighland terrier/jack russell cross who had a stroke a few years back and so when he is tired and one side of his brain shuts down, he walks around in circles. He is also blind. He was born with no tear ducts and so his eye lids basically rubbed out his vision. To correct this problem, he had an operation to transfer some of his saliva glands to his eyes with the result that when he eats, he now also cries.
Dougie moved in on Saturday afternoon and seemed to settle down. At tea time, we fed him according to instructions, and he wolfed his food down. He then became quite agitated, walking around the house (occasionally bumping into things) and began to make a strange sound. He was howling. His owner had sent a list of his habits and the howling rang a bell in my memory.
"What do we do?" asked husband
"It said something about howling in the 'looking after Dougue guidelines' that our neighbour sent," I said, "I'll check it on the computer."
"Check it quickly," said husband as the howling levels rose to 'loud' on the Howl-o-meter.
Rushing over to the lap top I opened the Dougie doc and scanned down.
"If he howls(yes, like a wolf)," it said, "then he needs to vomit. Take him outside and he will dig a hole and vomit into it then cover it over," I read.
Husband grabbed the howling hound and raced around to the garden where Dougie dug several holes (narrowly missing the onion and lettuce patches) before finally depositing his entire supper in one and then frantically covering it up with his nose.
We stood back and watched. "What a f**++ed up animal," observed husband.
Meanwhile the kids were in a state of high excitement throughout this episode. Being a 14-year-old, stroke-victim dog, Dougie is not up for much in the way of games or activities. The howl - dig - vomit routine had them rivetted every second.
Telling the grandparents on Skype later that weekend about our latest exploits, Dougie Dogs displays were a major feature of the childrens' news home.
Koreans love spam, that gross fatty mashed up ham that comes in a tin. Spam hampers are on massive displays in CostCo food stores and for the Chusok festival, Spam hampers are big presents. The last time I came across Spam was when I wrote my first promotion for Glasgow's Evening Times' marketing department. It was my lofty duty to write the copy for a reader competition to win one of two Spam hampers donated by a local supermarket, and also the first time I ever saw my own words published in print. I worked really hard and the competition was one of the most successful of the year - I am still not sure to this day if this was because of my terrific and enticing copy that had readers buying multiple copies of the paper just to enter the competition. Or whether it was simply a reflection of the disgusting eating habits of some elements of the population in the West coast of Scotland at that time.
Some friends of ours have just announced that they are pregnant with a baby due in March next year. Our daughters were delighted with this news.
"Guess what, remember Peta and Steve?" I asked them, "Well, Peta has a baby in her tummy so they are going to be a Mummy and Daddy next year."
"Cool, so they will be a Mummy and Daddy instead of just being visitors," observed our eldest daughter.
Last weekend we had a trial run looking after our next door neighbour's elderly dog in preparation for possibly looking after him for two weeks while they go on holiday.
Dougie Dog is a 14 year old, westhighland terrier/jack russell cross who had a stroke a few years back and so when he is tired and one side of his brain shuts down, he walks around in circles. He is also blind. He was born with no tear ducts and so his eye lids basically rubbed out his vision. To correct this problem, he had an operation to transfer some of his saliva glands to his eyes with the result that when he eats, he now also cries.
Dougie moved in on Saturday afternoon and seemed to settle down. At tea time, we fed him according to instructions, and he wolfed his food down. He then became quite agitated, walking around the house (occasionally bumping into things) and began to make a strange sound. He was howling. His owner had sent a list of his habits and the howling rang a bell in my memory.
"What do we do?" asked husband
"It said something about howling in the 'looking after Dougue guidelines' that our neighbour sent," I said, "I'll check it on the computer."
"Check it quickly," said husband as the howling levels rose to 'loud' on the Howl-o-meter.
Rushing over to the lap top I opened the Dougie doc and scanned down.
"If he howls(yes, like a wolf)," it said, "then he needs to vomit. Take him outside and he will dig a hole and vomit into it then cover it over," I read.
Husband grabbed the howling hound and raced around to the garden where Dougie dug several holes (narrowly missing the onion and lettuce patches) before finally depositing his entire supper in one and then frantically covering it up with his nose.
We stood back and watched. "What a f**++ed up animal," observed husband.
Meanwhile the kids were in a state of high excitement throughout this episode. Being a 14-year-old, stroke-victim dog, Dougie is not up for much in the way of games or activities. The howl - dig - vomit routine had them rivetted every second.
Telling the grandparents on Skype later that weekend about our latest exploits, Dougie Dogs displays were a major feature of the childrens' news home.
Monday, September 11, 2006
26 Whoever said the Koreans aren't friendly
Today I went to the Post Office to send a letter home. Not only was I given personal service from the manager, but I even left carrying a cup of freshly made coffee! No complaints there.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
25 Tears of saudades and cookie robbery
Child number 2 is really struggling with the move from Bangkok to Seoul. She misses all her friends and teachers and our maid dreadfully, and is very tearful. It is completely gutting to see her tiny face crinkled up in a deep sob, gasping out the names of the friends she wants to see, begging to go back to Bangkok.
After a particularly harrowing session of this, I took her up to bed and lay with her on her lower bunk while her small body shook with her sobs. Child 1 sat up in bed,
"What's the matter with her, Mummy?" she asked.
"She's missing all her friends in Bangkok and she is feeling a bit upset," I said.
"God, Sxxxxx, I'm missing my friends in Bangkok too, but I'm not crying" she spat.
Child 2 sniffed and tried hard to control herself, but failed and descended into yet more wailing, flailing about and general misery. Eventually she was soothed by the promise by Child 1 to sing her a funny Wiggles song, preferably including Captain Feathersword. (We are yet to break the news to them both that Wiggles Best Friend and star of Wiggles Safari, the Crocodile Hunter Steve Urwin was killed by a sting ray this week. How will they handle the grief of that?)
But during the wailing hour with child 2, I had noticed some frenetic activity going on in the background. Cartoonlike in the speed of floor covered, a joke as far as subtlety was concerned. While Child 2 was crying in my arms, Child 1 was taking the opportunity to rob some cookies from the kitchen and sneak them back upstairs.
Depositing Child 2 back into bed, I noticed some debris, well, crumbs actually, falling from the top bunk.
"What is that falling out of your bed?" I asked.
"Nothing Mummy, well actually they are crumbs but I haven't been eating anything" she replied.
"Are you sure? You know that if you eat in bed the ants will come," I countered - ants being one of the children's biggest fears having lived in places where vicious red and black ants would appear all over the place, even, to stereotype, in our pants!
"No, nothing Mummy," she said, "now can you go downstairs and do your work now please. I want to sing the funny Wiggles song to Sxxxxx."
As I left I leaned up to look through to the top bunk, where Child 1 (let her henceforward be known as sneaky sod) was lying in a perfect impression of a child trying to go to sleep: thumb in mouth, tucked into bed, eyes gently closing.
Since Sneaky Sod is the daughter of the original sneaky sod (aka me), I decided to test out her capabilities to date. So as I made to leave the room, I leant up and gently whispered "Do you think you are being a good girl or a little bit of a naughty girl tonight?".
"A GOOD girl Mummy" she insisted (to her credit, without a hint of delay in the response - very convincing).
"Are you sure there isn't anything you might like to tell me?" I probed, not wishing of course to challenge her if she was telling the truth, but as sure as hell that whatever she had up there was for eating.
"No, Mummy, will you just go and do your work now, please. I want to go to sleep, " she said. "Ok, I'll just come up there and give you a cuddle", I countered.
"No, umm, no, Mummy I don't want you to come up in my bed today. I will come down and give you a kiss"
"It's OK," I said, foot lightly on the bottom rung of the ladder, "I want to give my special girl a BIG cuddle tonight" I said, and saw her visibly shrink.
As my head came above the top bunk, she knew she couldn't be seen to lunge for the loot and hide it, she just had to lie still and hope that the stupid blind numpty (which she obviously thinks I am) wouldn't notice the box of chocolate filled wafers lying at the side of her bed.
"Night night, darling" I cooed. "Shall I just take those biscuits downstairs with me so that you don't get ants in your bed, then?" I asked.
"Yes, please," She groaned, "Sorry for lying, Mummy".
"Night night, sweet heart. Don't do it again," I murmured, already mentally preparing a weekend of truth teaching to our cheeky little sneakster. Talk about Cat and Mouse - the more she knows we are on to her, the sneakier she will become. The sneakier she will become, the less we will find out or the more extreme our detection methods will have to be. And, luckily I am not a paranoid mother, but it is obviously a short step from cookies in bed to mainlining heroin....
After a particularly harrowing session of this, I took her up to bed and lay with her on her lower bunk while her small body shook with her sobs. Child 1 sat up in bed,
"What's the matter with her, Mummy?" she asked.
"She's missing all her friends in Bangkok and she is feeling a bit upset," I said.
"God, Sxxxxx, I'm missing my friends in Bangkok too, but I'm not crying" she spat.
Child 2 sniffed and tried hard to control herself, but failed and descended into yet more wailing, flailing about and general misery. Eventually she was soothed by the promise by Child 1 to sing her a funny Wiggles song, preferably including Captain Feathersword. (We are yet to break the news to them both that Wiggles Best Friend and star of Wiggles Safari, the Crocodile Hunter Steve Urwin was killed by a sting ray this week. How will they handle the grief of that?)
But during the wailing hour with child 2, I had noticed some frenetic activity going on in the background. Cartoonlike in the speed of floor covered, a joke as far as subtlety was concerned. While Child 2 was crying in my arms, Child 1 was taking the opportunity to rob some cookies from the kitchen and sneak them back upstairs.
Depositing Child 2 back into bed, I noticed some debris, well, crumbs actually, falling from the top bunk.
"What is that falling out of your bed?" I asked.
"Nothing Mummy, well actually they are crumbs but I haven't been eating anything" she replied.
"Are you sure? You know that if you eat in bed the ants will come," I countered - ants being one of the children's biggest fears having lived in places where vicious red and black ants would appear all over the place, even, to stereotype, in our pants!
"No, nothing Mummy," she said, "now can you go downstairs and do your work now please. I want to sing the funny Wiggles song to Sxxxxx."
As I left I leaned up to look through to the top bunk, where Child 1 (let her henceforward be known as sneaky sod) was lying in a perfect impression of a child trying to go to sleep: thumb in mouth, tucked into bed, eyes gently closing.
Since Sneaky Sod is the daughter of the original sneaky sod (aka me), I decided to test out her capabilities to date. So as I made to leave the room, I leant up and gently whispered "Do you think you are being a good girl or a little bit of a naughty girl tonight?".
"A GOOD girl Mummy" she insisted (to her credit, without a hint of delay in the response - very convincing).
"Are you sure there isn't anything you might like to tell me?" I probed, not wishing of course to challenge her if she was telling the truth, but as sure as hell that whatever she had up there was for eating.
"No, Mummy, will you just go and do your work now, please. I want to go to sleep, " she said. "Ok, I'll just come up there and give you a cuddle", I countered.
"No, umm, no, Mummy I don't want you to come up in my bed today. I will come down and give you a kiss"
"It's OK," I said, foot lightly on the bottom rung of the ladder, "I want to give my special girl a BIG cuddle tonight" I said, and saw her visibly shrink.
As my head came above the top bunk, she knew she couldn't be seen to lunge for the loot and hide it, she just had to lie still and hope that the stupid blind numpty (which she obviously thinks I am) wouldn't notice the box of chocolate filled wafers lying at the side of her bed.
"Night night, darling" I cooed. "Shall I just take those biscuits downstairs with me so that you don't get ants in your bed, then?" I asked.
"Yes, please," She groaned, "Sorry for lying, Mummy".
"Night night, sweet heart. Don't do it again," I murmured, already mentally preparing a weekend of truth teaching to our cheeky little sneakster. Talk about Cat and Mouse - the more she knows we are on to her, the sneakier she will become. The sneakier she will become, the less we will find out or the more extreme our detection methods will have to be. And, luckily I am not a paranoid mother, but it is obviously a short step from cookies in bed to mainlining heroin....
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
24 Fish fish fish
Our weekend sort of disaapeared in a whirl of busy days and evenings. Friday night we stayed out too late with friends from here and a mate who was at uni with us, and who we saw a lot of in Hong Kong - he know lives in Beijing but was over for a conference in Seoul. Subsequently, we woke too late to be bothered to rush to cacth the buses taking everyone to the US American Chamber summer picnic which was a couple of hours out of town. Not to be put off, we jumped in the car and headed off with a tourist map of Seoul to guide us! Miraculously we found the place but by 1pm all the food had gone and they were packing up so it effectively cost us $100 for four slices of disgusting Pizza Hut pumpkin pizza which was the only food left. It then took us 3 hours to get back because we got hideously lost, but all quite enjoyed spending some time together!On the way back, husband called one of his colleagues who was stuck in the office to join us for an early supper barbecue, but he then got rather entrenched and didn’t leave until after midnight!
And then on Sunday we went on an exciting (not!) trip to CostCo followed by a 1 year birthday party for one of husband's colleagues kids. It was really interesting since 1 year is a big one for Koreans. The birthday child gets dolled up in traditional dress which is very sweet and colourful and then has to choose from a range of items placed in front to show his destiny: Rice = contented life (never hungry), String = longevity, money = money (this is Asia after all), pencil = scholar and these days they all have a computer mouse as well = geek I suppose! It all came with a very nice buffet brunch so we were happy, and it was an interesting experience all round. Fortuantely the hostess spotted us heading into the wrong party in a room next to hers and managed to rescue us before we sat down at the wrong party and started tucking to their food! The chances are that both families were called Kim or Park or something, so there was a hgh chance that we could have gone to the wrong party and never realised.
Today I went with my next door neighbour to the wholesale fish market and brought a rather fine looking snapper to bbq for the girls for tea. It is a really great market and I think we may be eating a lot more fish on the back of that visit. We had lunch there as well in a café, sitting on the floor (as was everyone else) with our legs crossed under the table. We had a big bowl of fish soup with fried seaweed and some gloopy stuff which we identified as vegetable of some kind, maybe aubergine, and the ubiquitous Kimchi (fermented cabbage). It was surprisingly good. I am not a big fan of fish soups but we couldn’t understand the menu and so had to point at something that looked appetizing on another table and there was a lot of raw fish around, so the soup looked like the safest option.
The weather is terrific. Bright sunny skies and cool mornings and evenings. Happy with! Cannot wait for my first autumn in 9 years!!!
Daughter 2 has been off school with a heavy cold and VERY SLIGHT temp but we had parent teacher conference on Friday and they threatened us with the wrath of god if we send a child to school sick, so I thought I had better not do my usual : dose her up with Calpol and take her anyway!! She WILL go back tomorrow.
There is a man cleaning our windows at the moment who is rather unnervingly having a pretty lengthy conversation with himself in Korean as I speak. He is definitely not on the phone to anyone! How funny is that? Ha ha.
And then on Sunday we went on an exciting (not!) trip to CostCo followed by a 1 year birthday party for one of husband's colleagues kids. It was really interesting since 1 year is a big one for Koreans. The birthday child gets dolled up in traditional dress which is very sweet and colourful and then has to choose from a range of items placed in front to show his destiny: Rice = contented life (never hungry), String = longevity, money = money (this is Asia after all), pencil = scholar and these days they all have a computer mouse as well = geek I suppose! It all came with a very nice buffet brunch so we were happy, and it was an interesting experience all round. Fortuantely the hostess spotted us heading into the wrong party in a room next to hers and managed to rescue us before we sat down at the wrong party and started tucking to their food! The chances are that both families were called Kim or Park or something, so there was a hgh chance that we could have gone to the wrong party and never realised.
Today I went with my next door neighbour to the wholesale fish market and brought a rather fine looking snapper to bbq for the girls for tea. It is a really great market and I think we may be eating a lot more fish on the back of that visit. We had lunch there as well in a café, sitting on the floor (as was everyone else) with our legs crossed under the table. We had a big bowl of fish soup with fried seaweed and some gloopy stuff which we identified as vegetable of some kind, maybe aubergine, and the ubiquitous Kimchi (fermented cabbage). It was surprisingly good. I am not a big fan of fish soups but we couldn’t understand the menu and so had to point at something that looked appetizing on another table and there was a lot of raw fish around, so the soup looked like the safest option.
The weather is terrific. Bright sunny skies and cool mornings and evenings. Happy with! Cannot wait for my first autumn in 9 years!!!
Daughter 2 has been off school with a heavy cold and VERY SLIGHT temp but we had parent teacher conference on Friday and they threatened us with the wrath of god if we send a child to school sick, so I thought I had better not do my usual : dose her up with Calpol and take her anyway!! She WILL go back tomorrow.
There is a man cleaning our windows at the moment who is rather unnervingly having a pretty lengthy conversation with himself in Korean as I speak. He is definitely not on the phone to anyone! How funny is that? Ha ha.
Friday, September 01, 2006
23 Big Seoul Sister pulls
Our end of Itaewon road could also be called Shitaewon. It is full of knock off hand bag shops, tailors popping out onto the pavement and asking if you want a cashmere coat (in 34 degrees, um, no thanks), fake sunglasses etc. Bit of a jumble sale.
So I am waiting to pick up child 1 from the bus the other day and am approached by a smiling guy, wearing US-style street wear: baggy jeans, super baggy T-shirt and baseball cap. Not wishing to be a grumpy cow, I smile back.
"I'm Jimmy," he says, "I be your friend." Really, I think.
"Where you from?" he asks
"England" I say, trying to sound polite but also slightly distant - I am not sure if I want a new friend.
"Oh England, I be your friend, how long you stay here?"
I sit down to wait for the bus and Jimmy sits down next to me, staring at me in a weird way.
"You stay here with your boyfriend?" he asks.
"No, with my husband," I answer thinking that will probably do the trick.
"Your husband black?" he asks.
"Um, no he's from Scotland. There aren't a huge number of blacks up there. Where are you from?" I ask.
"I'm from Ghana, you been to Africa?" he asks me.
"Not yet," I reply, "What do you do here?" I ask him.
"I'm a trafficker," he tells me.
Oh christ, I think. "Oh really, um, what do you, ah, traffic?" I ask.
"Oh, cars, trucks, other stuff."
We sit side by side until the bus arrives and my blonde daughter steps off in her cute gingham uniform. Starting to make our way home, I consider going to Starbucks rather than let Jimmy, the Ghanian trafficker of god know's what walk us to our door. "Smile at Jimmy," I tell my daughter. She has a good stare and smiles back and Jimmy saunters off.
So now I have a friend at the bus stop. Lucky me.
So I am waiting to pick up child 1 from the bus the other day and am approached by a smiling guy, wearing US-style street wear: baggy jeans, super baggy T-shirt and baseball cap. Not wishing to be a grumpy cow, I smile back.
"I'm Jimmy," he says, "I be your friend." Really, I think.
"Where you from?" he asks
"England" I say, trying to sound polite but also slightly distant - I am not sure if I want a new friend.
"Oh England, I be your friend, how long you stay here?"
I sit down to wait for the bus and Jimmy sits down next to me, staring at me in a weird way.
"You stay here with your boyfriend?" he asks.
"No, with my husband," I answer thinking that will probably do the trick.
"Your husband black?" he asks.
"Um, no he's from Scotland. There aren't a huge number of blacks up there. Where are you from?" I ask.
"I'm from Ghana, you been to Africa?" he asks me.
"Not yet," I reply, "What do you do here?" I ask him.
"I'm a trafficker," he tells me.
Oh christ, I think. "Oh really, um, what do you, ah, traffic?" I ask.
"Oh, cars, trucks, other stuff."
We sit side by side until the bus arrives and my blonde daughter steps off in her cute gingham uniform. Starting to make our way home, I consider going to Starbucks rather than let Jimmy, the Ghanian trafficker of god know's what walk us to our door. "Smile at Jimmy," I tell my daughter. She has a good stare and smiles back and Jimmy saunters off.
So now I have a friend at the bus stop. Lucky me.
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