For Christmas, Alice and I headed over to Beijing (just across the Yellow Sea from us.)  It was only for a long weekend, but omg was it ever worth it.  Becuase I’m at school this week I can’t post most of my pictures, but I can direct you to some of our videos.

(Oh creepy, I just checked them right now, and after having uploading them an hour ago, two have already been rated. By strangers.  Rated highly.  Maybe they think Alice is hot. How do things like this happen??)

Day 1: Shiniest Airport in the World vs. Beijing International Airport.  Swindled. Christmas Party.

This video was taken in Incheon International Airport. We were so shocked that on Christmas Eve the place was pretty much deserted. Oh, also? The MOST pleasant airport experience I’ve ever had. Loved it. Loved it.

We were really giddy about the whole trip.  I didn’t get excited until I left my apt at 6:45 that morning.  Literally, stepped out the door and started shaking (wasn’t the cold, I promise.) Alice kind of had to prod me into agreeing to the trip at first, but I soon saw the light.  The whole process of getting a Chinese visa wasn’t too bad, and the flights were pretty cheap.  Overall, for planning the trip about 8 days before we left, things went hitch-less.

After the 1hr 45 min flight (during which we became even happier because we had a conversation IN KOREAN with a lady sitting next to me.  Turns out she was Chinese and returning to Beijing for the first time in 3 years.  She didn’t speak any English, we didn’t speak any Chinese — although after the conversation we did — and we came together … WITH KOREAN. HANGUKEO, SARANG HEYO,) we took a shuttle bus downtown as per our hostel directions told us to.  Turns out the directions were pretty roundabout, but we didn’t care. It gave us a good opportunity to see some of Beijing.

The 24th was really foggy and we were afraid that the fog was really the air pollution, but thankfully it was not.  This next video is after the bus and after a short subway ride.  Riding the subway in Beijing is dead easy. And dead cheap. The tickets cost only about 40 cents CAD. Less, really.  And all the signs are also in English. Thank you, Olympics, thank you.

We found our hostel (Tian An Men Sunrise Hostel) with no problems.  It’s located in a traditional area of the city called a hutong.  What “traditional” means here (“traditional” is one of my least favourite words because it is so often used to entice foreigners in tourism spots. I am just bitter I guess.) is that all the houses are low, one-story, stone-shingled buildings built around small courtyards.  Hutongs (which, btw, is almost exactly one of my high school nicknames) are narrow and grey, and don’t stink of rich neighbourhood, but the one we were staying in is apparently.  It lies along the east wall of the Forbidden City.  Anyway, we found our hostel, which I would recommend to anyone, it was so great, and settled into our room.  Our PRIVATE room! In a hostel! With an ensuite bathroom! Luxury, thou art a private room in a hostel with an ensuite bathroom and a heater on the wall.

The video features more ukulele playing.  God, I love that instrument.

The first thing we did was to sign up for a Great Wall tour.  We chose the Jinshaling-Simatai walking tour even though it left the hostel at 6 a.m. because of many recommendations (thank you Amy and Albert!) We found out there was a Christmas party that night (the 24th) at the hostel with free Peking duck and TsingTao beer (which reminds me of my dad) and games, but we also wanted to go out and wander and see touristy things (get them out of the way.)  Most touristy things are closed at night, so we decided to wander first, Christmas party later, and go out to the Night Market late late.  We stayed in the hostel for a little bit, unwinding and soaking up the hostel atmosphere, until we became too impatient and promptly put on all our warmest clothes and walked to the Forbidden City (10 min.) It was really cold. And by this time, it was also dark.  People aren’t allowed at Tiananmen Square or the F.c. after dusk, so we thought, we’d just walk along the broad broad street and enjoy the lights and people.  Alice is a city person and likes these things.  I am tolerant.  (I’m kidding, I was pretty pumped too.)

Ok now, this is where it gets really embarrassing.  Please pay close attention, so you don’t have to read it twice.

We are naive. We got swindled. True story. Let me set the scene by relating it in present tense:

We are bundled up against the bitter humid cold, but pink-faced with glee and pride at actually having made it this far.  We are happy to wander around such a famous and imperial part of the city.  Alice is pleased with the straight lines of the streets and buildings, and we agree that the size of grandeur of the complex is so different from Korean cityscapes.  We just begin taking touristy photos by the F.C. outer gates, when two young Chinese people approach us, a woman and a man.
“Do you want us to take your picture?”
We pause and look at each other for a moment, “Ok, thanks!”
They take our picture a number of times, while they chat us up about being students and studying English and wanting to talk with us longer.  The woman’s name is Michelle, the man’s Joshua. Finally they out and ask us if they can walk with us and practice English.  We agree, and start walking back towards our hostel because we don’t know where else to go.

We walk into the hutong neighbourhood, and after passing a few tea shops, Joshua asks us if we want to go in and get a beer or some tea.  Alice and I agree that some tea would be really nice, so we walk in completely trusting our new Chinese friends to take care of us.  It did not once cross my mind that anything was up, and in fact, it didn’t cross my mind until Alice pointed it out to me days later.

We were led into a private room with a beautiful carved chunk of TREE serving as a table, and stump stools for the four of us.  I had expected them to just bring in some tea and assumed the private room was to Western tea shops as Korean noraebangs are to Western karaoke.  A woman in touristy-”traditional” Chinese clothing walked in and started performing small tea rituals and teaching us how to hold the delicate little cups and how to sniff the tea and passing around glass jars full of interesting-looking dried plants.  To make a long (horribly embarrassing) story short, we had a great time, talked about a lot of things, drank maybe 25 different types of “traditional” Chinese teas, ate many tiny snacks, and soon 3 hours had passed.

When the tea woman brought us the bill, we were shocked.  We still aren’t adept at yuan-dollar-won conversions, but even then, we realized something was up.  There was an extra zero on the bill.  We asked about it, but no, it belonged there, and she brought out a small paper that had sat cleverly behind her with prices carefully laid out.  We were paying per CUP of tea.  We payed a LOT of money for that tea time.  Much much much more than we had planned to spend.  Alice and I exchanged many looks and subtely thumbed through our money belts in dismay — we would have to change more money in a day or so.  Michelle and Joshua spoke in rapid Chinese to the lady.  They couldn’t pay it seemed, but there was NO WAY Alice and I could foot their bills too.

We were little rattled, for sure, but we agreed that money is just money at this point in our lives.  We’re more the well compensated at our jobs in Seoul and in the long run, yes we could have bought 3 new outfits in Seoul for the price of this tea experience, but we value experiences above clothing.  We mostly felt horrible about Joshua and Michelle having to spend so much money just because they wanted to speak English with us.  We left the tea shop and said bye to our new “friends” and went back to our hostel.

In our hostel is hung a large hand-written sign that says: BE VERY CAREFUL OF CHINESE PEOPLE OFFERING TO TAKE YOU TO TEA HOUSES OR BARS. THEY ARE SWINDLERS.   Of course, we didn’t see this until a day or so later.  Tea houses in the area hire young Chinese people with some grasp of English to lure rich tourists into their establishments so that they can charge them lots of monnnay.  That is what happened to us.  I am so embarrassed.  When we finally figured out what had happened to us, we were pretty upset.  Not because of the money — we’d already worked that out — but because we had trusted these people and they were only using us for our currency. Kudos to them, I guess, they worked hard for their money.

LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES! DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!

Moving on, the Christmas party was already underway when we came back.  We were welcomed to a row of tables where sat many Canadians, mostly from Montreal (which pleased Alice to no end.)  Two girls we met taught in Busan, one man was travelling around Asia for kicks, and the other two gentlemen, Pierre and Trevor, had just finished a 2-year stay in Belgium where Pierre had been teaching French, and were making their way back to Montreal.  Their 5-month-long way.  Awesome.

We ate roast duck (although we weren’t all that hungry after all that tea,) and drank lots of Tsingtao and wore cheap Santa hats and listened to bad Christmas music and played party games (no wins) and the others at the table comforted us with tales of their being swindled too.  Pierre and Trevor seem to have been all over the world, and Alice and I tried to siphon as much information from them as possible.  After a few hours of this, we retreated to bed to prepare for our day tomorrow.

Day 2: The Great Wall of China. Pleasure Boat. Banana Ice Cream.

We woke up at 5:20.  Our room was so lovely and warm.  Alice is not a morning person.  Unlike me, who is fully awake at the first sound of an alarm, Alice takes sometimes a few hours to feel real.  I knew that motivating Alice into getting ready would be a special chore this time, so I put on my chipperest face and loudest voice and jumped on her a few times before I went into our ENSUITE bathroom and took a very hot shower.  Then we put on all the clothes we had brought to China and went went into our hostel’s lounge.  The hostel was asleep, staff on the couches and all the lights off.  A man came into the hostel and pointed as us and said, “Two girls for Great Wall?”  We nodded, me bright-eyed, Alice blearily.  He didn’t introduce himself, but motioned for us to follow him outside.

It was cold.  Colder than the day before.  It felt about -17 Celsius, and Alice and I whispered to each other that we weren’t looking forward to the mountain temperatures.  Our guide led us to the main street where a large white van was waiting.  There were already 2 couples sitting the dark van and we hoped that there would only be the 6 of us for the OPTIMAL ALONE ON THE GREAT WALL OF CHINA EXPERIENCE.  It was not to be, and two-by-two, we picked up 10 more people from various hostels. Rocky muttered into his puffy coat every time someone was a little late. We also picked up some breakfast in the form of dry sandwiches and orange sugar-drink.  No one really spoke to each other at this point; it was far too early.  We all konked out.  I like the idea of an ummarked white van driving around rural roads of China filled with a Chinese driver, a slightly irate tour guide, three French girls, one Irishman, a Canadian and his Chinese wife, a Thai girl and her American ex-G.I. boyfriend currently living in Herat, two Americans working in Seoul, an English couple working in Nepal, and Alice and I, all asleep.  All sorts of potential for comedy (or DRAMA *gasp*).  It could be the beginning of a very funny, very long joke.

The man we followed into the van, woke us up after about 30 minutes,
“HELLO! I AM ROCKY. I AM YOUR GUIDE.” I won’t transcribe his accent, because that’s just plain mean, but it was classic and made me very happy.
“HOW ARE  YOU?”
“Merry Christm–”
“WE ARE GOING TO GREAT WALL.”
“…”
“YOU WILL HIKE JINSHALING PART OF WALL TO SIMATAI PART OF WALL.  IT IS VERY VERY VERY COLD AND SLIPPERY PROBABLY AND I THINK MAYBE IT IS NOT A GOOD IDEA. TODAY IS VERY COLD. MAYBE MORE COLD THAN YESTERDAY AND SLIPPERY AND PROBABLY WILL FALL OFF WALL TODAY. IN THE COLD. VERY WINDY. VERY COLD.”
“…”
“I THINK IT IS MAYBE BETTER TO GO STRAIGHT TO SIMATAI PART, NOT GOING TO POINT A, AND NOT HIKING TODAY. JUST GO TO POINT B AND WALK AND TAKE PICTURES.  SAFER AND MORE COMFORTABLE I THINK.  YOU CAN CHOOSE. I THINK IT IS BETTER TO GO TO POINT B. IT IS SO COLD AND WINDY. MAYBE SLIPPERY ON WALL.  YOU CAN FALL OFF.”
“Wait, what?”
“WE CAN MAYBE NOT GO TO POINT A. UP TO YOU. YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO DECIDE.”

We were a little confused, and Alice and I considered for a full minute, going straight to Simatai.  I wasn’t feeling the most confident with my hiking abilities, especially as the hike itself is 10 km and takes around 4 hours. And Rocky was right, it was cold. Maybe he was also right about falling off the wall. That sounded unpleasant.

Then,
“We can still do the hike though?” It was the Irish guy, Mike, at the back of the van.
“IT IS VERY COLD ON THE WALL etc.”

And,
“We paid for a hike, I’m still going on the hike. I could have gone a different tour to take us straight to Simatai, but I’m hiking.” This was from one of the French girls, Justine.

And so it was decided for Alice and I: we’re doing this hike.  We’ll kick this hike in the face and spit at its feet.  And as for slipping off the wall: BRING IT. We have strong winter boots and no backpacks and an adamantine will to say we hiked the great wall.  BRING IT.

Rocky was put out that all but 3 decided to do the hike, but true to his word, we turned at the fork towards Jinshaling.  Rocky went back to muttering to the driver, and we were left for 2 hours to sleep hard before our hike. Alice passed out on my arm and squished me against the icy window, but she was warm and I was feeling generous.  I fell asleep after eating my paper-tasting sandwich and sugar water.

When I woke up, I scratched a small hole in the ice on the window and gasped.  The sun had risen and the part of the great wall was running along the highway in the mountains.  I shook Alice awake and made her peer into the ice-peep-hole.  We had a silent fit of giggles for being where we were, which somehow woke the ex-G.I. behind us, so we talked together about Afghanistan.  G.I.s get a really bad name in Korea, but all the G.I.s I’ve met this trip, especially this one, have been really interesting, considerate people.

We got out of the van at Jinshaling, dancing and moaning for the cold and were ushered to a restroom (the last before the hike).  There were two stalls in the womens bathroom and I thought both were squatters, but mine turned out to be a toilet, but I didn’t tell Alice because she was already resigned to popping a squat.  We started walking towards the gate and started talking with Mike, who was cleverly wrapped up to his eyes.  My nose felt like a solid block of fleshy ice at that point and we’d only been outside for 5 minutes.  We handed the guard our tickets and started up the stairs to the Wall.  There were a few local farmers dressed in spring jackets who started walking alongside our tiny group.  Altogether (farmers included,) we numbered about 20.  We saw 5 other tourists on the Wall, and THAT WAS IT.  The Wall was ours! Coldly and beautifully OURS!

THE FIRST STEPS

We realized that this would be a long walk. We praised Korea for its exemplary stair-climbing-training.

When we got up the stairs to the Wall Proper (it only took about 10 minutes,) we were greet with the magnificent sight of misty cold winter mountains.  They were so beautiful.  Winter-beautiful, but beautiful still.  Everything was brown and beige and yellow and grey, and everything was soft-looking.

Was anyone else forced to sing that song in grade 8?

It's hard to give you an accurate idea of the colours that were there. And the cold. And the SPACE.

The Wall itself is pretty much impossible to fall off unless you are maybe heavily intoxicated, blind, or suicidal. But it would take a strong combination of all three to be enough for you to “slip off the mountain” as Rocky was suggesting.  I don’t know what his deal was.  Maybe he wanted to get home early? I mean, it WAS Christmas.  We asked some girls at our hostel if he had said the same thing the day after we did the tour, but he said nothing like it.  Rocky: WTF?

The Wall is made of large stone bricks. Most of the Jinshaling portion is renovated (at least for the first 3 or 4 km) and the parts that aren’t are still very walkable.  Sometimes it gets a little steep, but it just adds to the variety of the walk, I guess. It’s all stairs and doors that go nowhere and towers every few hundred metres and red lichen and arrow holes. Instead of typing and typing and just delaying this post even longer (it is now March 3 as I type. I wonder if it’ll actually post today,) I’ll just post a bunch of pictures.  ENJOY!

Note red noses and cheeks

Some of the many stairs.

Sometimes they got pretty steep. There were many redundant "dips" in the Wall: stairs going descending and ascending steeply for no reason.

The views made the stairs worth it.

In one of the towers with two stories and a roof.

Another vista for your viewing pleasure

You'll notice Alice's gloves are off. "Why!?" I hear you cry, "It's cold outside." True, my friends, but climbing thousands of stairs warms you up. It got the point where we would unzip our coats or rip off our hats every half an hour or so.

The part was not restored. There is a farmer woman who followed Alice, trying to sell her things. She left after 2 km.

Towards the end of our hike, after we had entered the Simatai part of the wall (I almost lost my ticket and nearly peed my pants in anxiety, although I easily could have just paid the guard again,) we came to one of the last peaks in the Wall, and one of the highest.  It was maybe 10:30 and the sun was burning away the mist.  We could see a glacial river where it mixed with the hot springs, turning the water turquoise, and could see the silhouette of another part of the wall running along the ridges of the highest mountains in the region.  It was stunning.  We were with Mike, the ex-G.I., and his girlfriend, and without a word, we started sitting along the wall and there we sat for a good 15 minutes, just sunbathing and looking. These pictures are from that spot.  Alice and I both agree that this is one of our favourite places in the entire world.

Mike is the one perched like a pirate, ex-G.I. is full out lying on the Wall.

Alice. All happy.

I admit this is a little bit posed, but the glowing joie de vivre oozing out of my pores is not forced, I assure you.

The view.

After My Happy Place, we came to a suspension bridge across the hot springs.  Then we ZIP-LINED DOWN THE MOUNTAIN! For realz. It was so rad. The zip line was over the hot springs and I suspect that it would be even more pleasant in the warm months. Amy has confirmed this.

there was no office.

Coldest job ever. He was singing.

Thank goodness there's a sign.

We found it!

After the zip line (and the pleasure boat,) we got into an unmarked van which drove us to a small restaurant where we ate lunch in a room that was colder than the outside.  I could hardly maneuver my chopsticks.  We settled back into our van ready to sleep the 3 hour-drive back to Beijing, when the Chinese wife of the older Canadian gentleman told us that there was a toll highway that would take us back in only one hour, but the tour didn’t want to pay for it.  So we all payed the  equivalent of 3 dollars to take the toll road back. It was worth it, because it gave us 2 extra hours in Beijing on an already brief trip.

We used those hours to chill with our ukes for a bit, rave about our life-changing hike to our hostel-mates, and plan a trip to see Beijing Opera that night without a tour group.  I looked up an opera house, and had the hostel call them for directions.  The directions were as follows: “Take the subway to so-and-so stop (I forget now) get out at exit 2.  You will see a giant Peking Duck restaurant.  The opera house is located in the alley behind the restaurant.”  We diligently followed the intructions and found ourselves in an unlit small alleyway with nothing at all that looked like a touristy opera house.  We walked back a forth under a light for a while until we realized the building we had been walking beside was painted with Beijing Opera characters.  We found the opera house! It was abandoned.  The doors were open to the cold, no lights were on, it was dusty and covered in graffiti. I don’t know if we called the ghost of the opera house, or if our hostel workers had made stuff up because the line was busy, or what, but we left dejectedly and turned to the warm food-laden arms of the Night Market to comfort us.

The Night Market is a 5 minute walk from our hostel, and is a street lined with red-roofed food stalls selling all manners of delicious and horrific foods and delicacies.  Vendors yell loudly at visitors in their own language (for English speakers, you’ll mostly get “HEY!” “HELLO!” “HI!” “WOMAN!”  ”HUNGRY TIME!” “EAT MY FOOD!” “CHICKEN!” (when it’s not chicken) and “MY NAME IS!”) It’s busy and noisy and smells interesting, and I highly recommend it to anyone visiting Beijing.  Here’s what we saw that night:

There are menus above the stalls with English translations, but often the translations make no sense, or are wrong altogether. Plus, the stall workers usually don't understand our garbled attempts at Chinese pronounciation

BEHOLD! A FEAST!

Things you can deepfry

Most food at the night market was displayed raw and then was deep fried and covered in chili for you.

The first purchase we made was safe ol' mystery steamed dumplings. They were delicious.

Next we tried some "fish balls" which were neither fish (as far as we could tell,) nor balls. But they were deep-fried and covered in chili. And pretty good.

Next on the tour menu of the Night Market, was fried cabbage roll, which tasted exactly like it sounds. The outside was a crisp, oil-slick cabbage leaf. Inside was more cabbage. Alice, who worships at the earthy leaves of the cabbage god, was making a pilgrimmage of sorts by eating this. Note that it is deep-fried and covered in chili.

We went for something a little more adventurous, and not deep-fried. What I thought was a bowl full of delicate mushroom soup with parsley (and chili), turned out to be a bowl of sheep's stomach. I had some problems. Alice slurped away happily.

After that tasty tour into the inside of a sheep, we ate something called “chatang” which began as a misunderstood order for almond cookies and ended with greedily spooning soft, warm, translucent, vaguely sweet, pudding into our gaping maws without speaking much. It was very delicious and by the time I thought of taking a picture of it, it was mostly gone and my camera (which had been dangling, neglected off my wrist, unprotected from the bitter cold) decided it was too cold to work.  It was delicious though.  I think it was “almond chatang” because when we tried to order it again later just as “chatang” it was different.  I put my camera in my pocket after its cold-strike, and it revived enough to take a picture of our last taste-test (and arguably the most delicious.)

Deep-fried and covered in sugar for a change, these little babies were melt-in-your-mouth warm goodness. Highly recommended. 5 Stars.

We had been walking up and down the stalls for a while and had gotten to recognise one man who was selling his food beside the fish-balls vendor.  We had noticed him because he managed to make eye contact with us and yell, “HELLOOO! BANANA ICE CREAM!” We shook our heads politely at his banana ice cream, which looked like a piece of bread with some whipped cream on top.  Unfazed, he contined to yell at passersby,”HELLO! BANANA ICE CREAM!” but his yells became more and more sarcastic, until his “hello” sounded like the “hello” of a daddy’s-girl ’90s Valley girl rolling her eyes at her housekeeper.  It seemed like he was yelling “DUH! HELLO! BANANA ICE CREAM HERE YOU MORONS!  WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT IT’S BANANA ICE CREAM THAT I AM SELLING!?”  We didn’t buy his banana ice cream.

After the Night Market, we walked to a large bright mall, where people were playing in street-steam, and drank some Starbucks drink.

Then we returned to our hostel to play ukulele and drink tea in the common room, until we finally, exhaustedly, crawled into our beds and fell promptly asleep.

Day 3: Forbidden City. The Gauntlet. Party in the Park. Hot Pot. Unveiling our Uke.

We had planned to wake up early (read: before dawn) to get into Tiananmen Square for some sort of flag-related morning ceremony, but were slowed by our bleary eyes and lack of will to move around in the cold cold morning.  Poor Alice without her coffee.  We managed to arrive just toward the end of the ceremony and watched from outside the square, because once the ceremony begins, no one can come in or out of the square.  While waiting for the ceremony to end so we could take pictures on the enormous cement wasteland of Tiananmen, we enjoyed the enormous “BE PROUD OF YOUR COUNTRY” style of architecture around the square.  Then we took silly pictures (which Alice is better at taking than I.)

It was the first time since my high school band days that I got up before dawn two days in a row solely for my own enjoyment. (High school band was extremely enjoyable. Even the 7 a.m. rehearsals.)

This is the way we hold up our country, hold up our country, hold up our country ...

The Forbidden City as seen from TS

After Tiananmen, we walked back to our hostel and had breakfast at a tiny hole-in-the-wall place down the street filled with locals.  They found us a spot, and we just pointed at some dumpling soup someone was eating and brought us a dish of succulent steamed dumplings as well.  We ate heartily.  The enormous meal cost us less than 3 dollars together.  I love travelling. Then we stumbled around looking for an exchange bank on a Saturday, eventually found one, and finally tripped off to explore the Forbidden City.

The Forbidden City is enormous, covered in smooth paved courtyards, and filled with intimidating red palaces of various use.  I wasn’t moved by it as I have been by other similar types of Asian architecture, but I did really enjoy the garden in the back of the complex. Alice discovered that my favourite type of place is a more intimate, smallish kind of place, or one filled with nature-times.  Give me a bug to look at and I’m happy. Alice is better at appreciating the city and big bustling things.

The maw of Mao

a detail on a door

high-fiving trees

We only spent around an hour and a half in the City, and in my opinion, that was enough.  It’s like going to a museum: there’s only so much you can take before it all blends together and you’re not really paying attention anymore.  I prefer to stop when that happens. And we stopped and headed to the Pearl Market to do some jeans shopping (jeans do NOT fit us in Korea.)

On our way into the market, we saw a sign that looked suspciously like,
Alice: “STARBUCKS! IS THAT A STARBUCKS!??!”
Grace: “No.”
Alice: “Really?”
“Grace: “Yeah, it’s a *peers* Leymo Coffee.”

pause

Both: BAHAHAHA! LAME-O COFFEE!

LEYMO

We obviously went in. I had a lavender latte, which was actually extremely delicious.  The proprietors also spoke good English and helped us find … something. I forget what we were asking about. Alice?

Bolstered by our tasty leymo drinks, we went into Pearl Market to brave the Gauntlet.  The Pearl is a 4-story maze of yelling, English-speaking, pushing, shoving vendors.  If you need to learn how to haggle, this is the sink-or-swim place to do it.  It turns out Alice is something of a natural haggler, and managed to haggle our silk scarves down from $40 to $7.  It was like watching a master at work.  I was so proud of her.  We also found jeans that fit us! I should have bought 2 or 3 pairs, looking back.

From the Pearl Market we met up with Mike from the Wall tour, and headed to the Temple of Heaven (which turned out to be right beside the Pearl Market.)  We entered through the Pearl gate to find that the Temple of Heaven is actually a large park housing various temples, notably the temple of heaven.  We also found a courtyard full of dancing people, a courtyard full of people playing sports and games, and many pavilions full of people singing folk songs with impromptu conductors and saxophone-bands and dancing competitions and karaoke and card games.  Feast your eyes on THESE!

You will find more gems, including a poo-hole-pants-wearing little boy in my other youtube videos. Check them out to kill your precious time.

For dinner, we managed to find a hot pot place right outside of the south gates of the Temple of Heaven park.  Chinese hot pot is not at all what I expected (a rich mix of whatever the kitchen has that day simmered for a long time until it’s all soft and melty.)  It’s actually a brass … pot in the shape of a donut filled with boiling water and some flavour-enhancers (garlic cloves, jujubes, leeks, etc.)  You then order whatever meat/veggie/Asian delicacy you feel like and when it comes, you dunk it in the water until it is as cooked as you please.  Then there’s usually a peanut-chili-green onion dip (DELICIOUS) and you’re on your way.

Blurry. Sorry guys.

We ordered beef tongue (which Mike seemed not so keen on, ) and mutton (which I was not so keen on, but which ended up being so thinly and delicately sliced that it was absolutely melt-in-your-mouth-delicious,) and lotus root, mushrooms, fried things, … oh man I don’t even remember everything we ordered. I remember that while ordering I thought it wouldn’t be enough maybe, but when the food started arriving at our table, I despaired that it would fall under the weight of it all.  SO MUCH FOOD! (so cheap!) So delicious, and the wait staff were darlings to our fumbling Western ways.  I loved it.

From there, we went back to our hostel and on to Beijing Opera (finally!) with a tour (we had learned our lesson.)  The tour turned out to be only the three of us.  We were driven to a hotel with a big theatre in it and prepared ourselves for the intense Chinese sounds.  I knew beforehand what Beijing opera (or Peking Opera) is like, having studied it briefly in university, and remembering that it’s sometimes … hard for the Western ear to accept, I hoped that Mike and Alice would enjoy it.  Alice of course throws herself fully into any experience, but the female roles especially in Beijing opera are so shrill and nasal and different from most Western music standards of lovely tone …  Plus, a show in a hotel? Would it be a quality one?

Well. I had nothing to worry about.  The show was really entertaining.  They only performed three brief sections of larger whole operas.  The first was about a young ex-nun who was trying to cross a river to get to her lover.  She meets an old boatman and persuades him to take her across, but he’s a major joker and teases her a lot.  The best part of it was how convincing their boat pantomime was: they bobbed and swayed as if they were really standing on a small boat.  The second act was a solo aria featuring a rainbow goddess singing about travelling around heaven and earth.  The last was a definite crowd-pleaser.  A woman whose husband was mortally ill decides to steal a magical artifact from a mountain protected by various magical warrior animals (it’s cooler than it sounds) and they have various epic sword-throwing fights with lots of acrobatics.  Everyone was happy.

Finally, we returned to the Night Market to show Mike some of the delicious things we had sampled the night before (he bought banana ice cream,) and topped off the night by serenading Mike with some of the uke songs we had composed the night before while still glowing with the excitement of our day.

The uke.  She makes friends.

We packed in preparation for our 5:30 a.m. departure (or was it earlier?)

Day 4: Goodbye, China.

We woke up too early and shuffled into the sleeping common room.  Our taxi that the hostel had helped arrange us picked us up and we arrived at the airport so early that the check in counter wasn’t even open.  We were DED on our feet, so we dozed on benches for a while.  We agreed through our sleep-deprived fogs that this had been such a rad decision: taking a long weekend and turning it into a grand 3-day exploration of a new country.  We pledged to do it again as soon as possible.  (See next post: JAPAN)

Am I done!? Am I actually finished?!?

GOD FINALLY!

Consider this post’s title my only apology.  I certainly wasn’t feeling guilty every time I thought about this blog, which was nearly never.  Certainly no guilt. No, none at all.  Not in the slightest.  Didn’t bother me so much I couldn’t get back into it and have to confront my self betrayal to blog-commitment. No siree, no.

For those of you uncertain as to what “naega” means, I don’t know either, but please watch this video, which is sung and danced at me by my students every time “sorry” or “story” is spoken in class.

Noteworthy features: there are far too many boys in this boy band.  I don’t know how the crazed fangirls keep them straight.  The only one who stands out to me is Mr. Pudge in his spiffy silver jacket, mostly because I was under the impression that pudge has been banned from the media here, except in the Before pics of “Before and After” sets.  Also:  the use of English words, such as “shorty” and “girl”.  I … just … don’t know what to say about this. 

I remember one of the first days out of SMOE orientation, skulking around Nowon with Alice picking up freebies at makeup stores; hearing this song or one similar to it and Alice asking,
      “Did they … Did they just say “shorty“?”

Ooookay so past month. What have I been doing?

1. Korean classes.  Alice and I cheated to get into Beginner level 2 (to bypass Hangeul and level 1, both of which seemed boring, both of which were during work times.) Every Monday, we went to have our brains pounded in Korean immersion for two hours.  Not a lot, considering our entire life here is Korean immersion, but I only spend a small fraction of that time actively listening to Korean.  Usually I just tune it out.
   But our hard work paid off. We both killed the level-up test, and are totally rocking this language.  I could tell you what I did last weekend, or what I will do next weekend, and can talk to you about buying things.  It just feels really good to be able to have conversations in Korean.  Slow, torturous conversations in Korean, granted, but valid nonetheless.
2. Dancing and staying out too late on Saturdays.  Mostly at Hongdae. Once in Itaewon. *mutter* Hilarious things are always going down.
3. Getting sick.  2.5 times.  No swine, knock on wood.  I’ll leave the swine to Alice.  (GET WELL SOON! YOU SHOW THAT SWINE WHO’S BOSS!)
4. Work.  Things have been heating up in preparation for English camp. I’m running some sort of performance.  TBA
5. Icheon pottery village with Alice and Sujin.  We stayed overnight at a jimjilbang (which I will never again do unless I bring heavy duty ajumma-snore-proof earplugs.  We had to leave the hot sleeping room because of the snores and the heat, and found sleeping mats near the kitchens.  At 3 a.m. (people just sit and talk all night it seems) I awoke to witness two ajushis talking earnestly with Alice who seemed uncomfortable.  Chief adjushi’s name was “Pony Boy”.  At 5 a.m. Alice woke me up to point out a creepy reacher at the foot of her mat.  I had noticed him at 3a.m. with his arms stretched above his head and touching the edge of Alice’s mat.  He had since shimmied his entire torso up ON TO her mat and was currently groping her leg.  In his sleep of course. I advised Alice to kick him.  She did, he retreated. Slowly.) We explored the pottery village, which was very cool even in the rain, and we made some pottery old-school style.  We don’t have the pots yet, but I’ll try to post some pics when I do.
6. Making amazing new friends.  Alice has a great building-neighbour with great friends. 
7. Chasing meteors.  We tried to watch the Leonid metors from Suraksan mountain, but DAMN it was early.  I saw some huge fireballs on the 18th though.
8. Exploring my neighbourhood.  It really is pretty bleak.  (But I love it.)  Here is my neighbourhood and what I’ve explored so far.
   
   View Larger Map

I am tred. I’ve heard you shouldn’t rush these things.  Over exertion etc.

More later.

Probably.

(P.S. I miss you everyone in Canada!!!)

First up: lunch time on Friday.
We stopped about 3 hours out of Seoul at a tiny tiny place not even in a town.  However, it had been featured on a number of TV shows, as per the proud photos on the walls.  (Speaking of the walls, one was papered in red roses, two in giant yellow daisies, and one in a birch forest.) First came the side-dishes. In the picture, from 6-o-clock going clockwise: spicy unfermented cabbage kimchi, green chilis fermented in soy sauce, chewy radishes stewed in cold fish sauce and hot pepper paste, sweet crunchy radishes in apple vinegar, something I forget, salted soggy peanuts in sweet soy sauce, non-spicy cabbage kimchi, a big ol’ pile of seaweed, raw onions and garlic in soy sauce.  Restaurants here are rated based on their side dishes, so serious restaurants take them VERY seriously.  My favourite were the chewy radishes and crunchy radishes.  The peanuts were just kind of strange as they were unroasted.  Mom eats raw peanuts sometimes, or boiled ones, and I still think they’re kind of gross.  The best part of side dishes is the free refill part. I have “more _______, please” memorized SO good.

Many side dishes before being served the chopped chicken pancake

After some side-dish eating and mekju (beer) drinking, they served us a tasty chopped-up chicken pancake sort of thing.  I probably should have asked about the name of the restaurant and food, but I hate interupting conversation with questions too often, especially when I know I’m forcing them to function in a language that they are uncomfortable with.  So I suffer stoically in silence.  …while I stuff my face.  The “pancake” was made entirely of spicy chicken and sesame oil and sesame seeds.  Possibly some kim chi. It was probably flattened and fried in a big pan weathered with the frying of many other chicken pancakes.  Please note how serious I am about getting some of that pancake into my mouth: serious face, determined and steely gaze upon it, grip of death upon the chopsticks.  My companions in the meal: red – Ms Lee, the gr 6 English teacher, glasses – Eunjung, gr 4 English teacher, also one of the teachers who picked me up that first fateful day, also lived a year in London (therefore her English is excellent,) blue – Mrs Seo, in the same teacher room as me, i think she might teach home ec and math. Also note: two-handed beer-pour.

Check out that tasty chicken-pancake-type-food. Feel your salivary glands become excited.

The main dish was this chicken all burst open with soft rice and dates and chestnuts and other good things stuffed inside. It may have been boiled.  It was really tasteless – on purpose – so they also served a small dish of salt to dip the meat.  This was probably my least favourite dish all trip.  Usually Korean food is so full of flavour, but this was pretty drab.  Still though, I’m looking pretty pleased, aren’t I?  My co-teachers were even more pleased with my chosen pose.  Silly just isn’t done here. Unless you are famous and on a reality TV show. Obvi.

Lunchtime -- white chicken stuffed with rice and dates and chestnuts

As if we hadn’t had enough boring chicken, they served us some boring chicken broth with rice. At least they livened up the rice with some mung beans.  Alas, the mung bean flavour was hidden by the all-encompassing flavour of chicken. The boring one. Obvi.

Feel your salivary glands shrivel up. Granted, this would be pretty appealing if I had the flu. *KNOCK ON WOOD*

Bonus food pics: MAKKOLI (or magkeolli or moccoli).  Makkoli is a traditional drink made of fermented boiled rice and is soooooooo tasty.  Alice and Silvia and I first encountered it on Suraksan when a guitar man offered us “broccoli”.  We hesitatingly accepted, and were … delighted … when he gave us cups of white liquid instead of green flowerets.  It tastes sweet and yogurty, and is vaguely fizzy.  It’s sometimes served out of chilled metal kettles into chilled metal bowls, and that’s my favourite.  The Juwangsan area is famous for apples, and at the mountain, we saw large pots of apple makkoli.  The teachers hadn’t seen it before.

Foamy apple makkoli. The pot is probably 1 metre across

On the way down the mountain, Ms Lee and Sangman and I found a tasty-looking pot and decided we wanted to try some.  I said I’d just sip some, knowing how fuzzy makkoli can make you feel and knowing how winding the roads were.  The one we chose had dates and chrysanthemum flowers in it too.  They ordered two bowls and made me drink more than I had hoped to get away with.  It was really appley and sooo sweet.  It was delicious and cold.  Because I’m a foreigner, they also fried up a quick sweet potato pajon (savoury eggy pancake) for us gratis.  Sangman downed her whole bowl in one go, and then finished off what Ms Lee and I couldn’t finish.  She became very giggly and red.  Ms Lee also became giggly and wanted to talk to me of husbands and good men.  I acquiesced.  Obvi.  And I got a makkoli headache within 20 minutes.  Obvi.

This is the one we drank. Much tastier-looking, eh?

Dinner time! This was a matter of great excitement for the teachers.  They had been talking about te ke (literally, big crab) since 8:00 that morning.  The restaurant we went to was right on the ocean, and we took a nice cold walk for half an hour before dinner.  It’s country-famous for its crab.  I really like that all these famous restaurants are still fairly dingy, family-run deals with houses attached.  This restaurant also seemed to be some sort of motel.  There were large windows that looked out onto the Japan Sea (I think they call it the East Sea here.)

Lo! Side dishes: boiled baby squid, salad with mayo sauce, cooked sea snails, tasteless seaweed (I thought it was all salty, but I was WRONG!), dried fish strips, a gelatinous dish made of ground potato, chestnuts and Korean dates, celery!  (I didn’t eat the squid, but I DID eat the snail which was hard to get out.  Mrs. Seo who is an “Eomma” (mommy) was super deft at twisting that little snaily out of its shell.  I admit I chewed faster that I usually do, uncomfortable with confronting the undiluted and undisguised flavour of snail without its usual blanket of garlicky butter.)

Tasty, tasty side dishes. I was disappointed by the lack of kim chi. Not pictured: hot pepper paste with chopped garlic (tasssssty), raw lettuce for wrapping, soy sauce and wasabi, raw garlic slices.

I expected the crab to come right away for a giant gorging-fest of pure crab.  Instead, they came out with big plates full of sashimi!!!  The way they serve almost all dishes, is one dish to four people.  Look how pretty it is! It was on wood-paper.  It looked, smelled, and felt like wood, but I was told it was paper.  Mrs. Seo told me, so I trust her.  She is an eomma. Obvi.

The fish featured on the plate are squid strips (top left), special small fish (I suspect the angel fish I saw in the tanks on the way in) with bones still in because they’re too small to take out (bottom left), then moving left to right: flounder, trout, a different trout, and mystery fish. My favourite was mystery fish and the red trout.  Mmmm so delicious. We ate it wrapped in lettuce with garlic hot sauce and just in soya sauce with wasabi like at home.  I craved some salmon.

rrrrraaaaaaaaaw fisssssssssssssssssssssh

I had to stop myself before I stuffed, because I caught a glimpse of the gleaming orange piles of crab growing in the kitchen.  A woman came by yelling to us that if we wanted more of anything, we could just ask for it, which elicited a squeal of glee from the teachers, who were becoming more and more drunk.  Soju, mekju, and raspberry wine were flowing.  I had to accept many a shot of raspberry wine from the teachers who came by our table.  They insisted I down it in one each time, and each time I did.  Each time I did, they became delighted and poured me another for an encore performance.  I wasn’t really in a position to refuse, needing to prove that Westerners are fun-loving, approachable people who appreciate all forms of kindness being the school’s first NSET.  It was only the enormous amount of raw fish in my stomach that saved me from becoming a wine-sodden wreck.

On to the crab!  An ajumma came out with a giant plate of them and squatted down right beside me.  She whipped out a pair of scissors and began preparing the crabs for the tables.  She cut the legs off one side in one deft snip, then cut them into pieces, opening a seam so we could get at the meat easily.  She cut the whole body in half, then RIP! out came both sides of the meat, intestines dangling.  She placed all the edible meat on a plate and sent it down to the principal’s table.  The top half of the shell filled with green crab-innard goo and oily soup remained.  Also something white and fatty-looking.  Mrs. Seo began stared at it with hungry eyes.

Snip! Snip! went the terrible scissors of the Crab Ajumma, so fast they blurred.

We were the last table to be served, so they gave us more fish while they snipped up the crabs.  The principal came by our table and gave me more wine.  Then, in a gasp-inducing gesture of great generosity (how’s THAT for alliteration?) she took one of her own crab legs, opened it for me, and fed me the meat inside.  The teachers around me DID audibly gasp.  I was careful to accept everything with two hands and bow nicely and mumble humble thanks.   Finally, our crab arrived.

Never-ending legs. Sexy. Also sexy: the top half of intestine goo-filled crab Mrs. Seo nabbed.

I mentioned in the last post that the crab was not as satisfying to me as crab at home is.  I don’t know if they use more salt or somehow sneak MSG into the crab at home, but somehow this crab tasted less … crabby.  It was also stringier.  Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the crab, but I was not transported with otherworldly delight the way I usually am.  Man, I am so spoiled.

I was ready to turn in after the crab, but they brought out two more dishes.  The first was a stew made of some of the parts of fish we didn’t eat in the sashimi (raw fish in slices is “Hue” in Korean.)  The stew was delicious and spicy and had lots of veggies and bones and bits of fish in it.  It was served on a gas stove so it bubbled merrily in front of us as we ate more hue and cooked pieces in the stew pot.  It made the whole place seem even more cozy and intimate.

Bubble bubble toil and trouble

The other dish was in the spirit of true Korean recycling: rice made with crab guts served in the crab shell.  It was tasty, but I didn’t like the way its beady dead little eyes stared at me as I devoured it.  Obvi.

Looook into my eyyyyyeeeees.........

Thus ended dinner on Friday.  Not pictured: the vast clinking plains of soju and mekju bottles.  Also not pictured: ridiculous times that ensued afterwards at Noraebang.

Let us move onwards in our food journey to Saturday breakfast. It was at the same restaurant, and in the final gesture of respect to the fish we ate raw yesterday, they served us my mom’s favourite: fish head soup.  Well, at least I was lucky enough to be served fish head soup.  Some were served fish tail soup.  It was very hot and very fishy and very good. I hope you wanted more pictures of dead eyes, because I am totally going to deliver them.

I didn't like eating around its gills, teeth, and upsettingly jelly-like eyes. My past experiences with fish eyes have been similar to hard-boiled eggs. I suppose they were fresher? Eyes jellier?

After breakfast we went to a Buddhist temple and I proceeded to get super super bus sick.  I vowed I wouldn’t eat anything forever ever again, but after a brisk walk in the mountains I felt a lot better and ate a dried persimmon.  Well, only a tiny bit.  No picture, sorz.

Lunch was a sorry affair. Everyone was tired from bus-dozing, and mostly everyone had been gorging themselves on the clementines and crackers they gave us for the road trip.  We stopped at a special place for naengmyeon (cold noodles.)  They also served hot noodles in beef broth, but everyone at my table was feeling for cold noodles.  I didn’t take any pictures, I was so tired and bus sick, but I took a picture of the side dishes/appetizers: cold fatty pork pieces, and sundae.

Spicy chewy radish/fish, fatty pork, and sundae (oh my!)

Sundae is one of my favourite Korean foods here, and one that I never would have thought I would enjoy.  Its essentially a Korean version of haggis. But substitue mutton for pork.  It’s really bloody tasting, but damn if I don’t love eating it, especially dipped in tteokbokki sauce.  You’re going to have to wikipedia that one, because I’m too lazy to explain. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tteokbokki

The naengmyeon is served in a cold soup with green onions, radishes, pear, cucumber, and a hard boiled egg.  They added mustard to it, which I found strange.  It tasted vinegary but sweet.  I rate it “ok” on a scale of “bring me a bucket, STAT” to “I could die in peace right now.” 

Finally, at the last completely inane pit stop we took, a teacher bought everyone a giant box of walnut cakes.  I don’t know the Korean name, but they are delicious.  Some people hate Korean sweets, but I cannot get enough.  These are walnut-shaped, red bean-filled, little jewels that are sweet and hot and have tiny bits of walnut inside.  Mmmm.  Obvi.

BONUS FOOD PIC!:

I didn’t eat this, but I smelled them all the way home.  If you have lived in Korea, you are well-accquainted with the smell of dried squid.  We stopped at the Candle Rock, which is famous for being in the Korean National Anthem video, and apparently is also famous for the dried squid the area produces.  I was slightly horrified, slightly amazed by the rows and rows of half-dried squid hung up on the way to the lookout point.  Honestly, are we so worried about cod and tuna being overfished?  Honestly! Look at this!!!! ARE THERE EVEN ANY SQUID LEFT IN THE OCEAN!??

MASSACRE!!!!

A bleak sight indeed. SQUID APOCALYPSE!

 I don’t think I can eat squid anymore.  They are a noble and peaceful species.  When they swim in the restaurant tanks they move with a serene grace.  Their placid eyes plead silently with you, “I am a prince of the ocean.  Do I deserve this?  Will I die such a low death? Aaah me, alas. I entrust my soul to you, oh ocean, heart of my hearts.”  They die with dignity, resigned to their fates, thinking poetic thoughts.

Truly, they are the king of tentacled creatures. 

Octopi are dinks. All squirting people and squeezing into small spaces for giggles. WTF octopi? Act your age.

PLUS:

• got out of Seoul
• got to see more of Korea
• climbed a little bit of a gorgeous mountain
• saw a lot of autumn foliage and smelled some fresh air
• ate the freshest seafood I have ever had in my life
• ate lots of crab
• gazed upon the Japan Sea
• slept at a hot springs resort
• learned a whoooooole lot of Korean all in one go
• am super good at Korean numbers now thanks to bustime bingo
• was given a box full of walnut cakes for no reason
• experienced Noraebang for the first time
• visited a Buddhist temple (no pictures from this because it was during bus sick times. I had to concentrate completely on staying upright and keeping all the fish soup down.)

MINUS:

• got 5 hours out of Seoul (7 on the way back)
• got mad bus sick
• climbed a LITTLE bit of a gorgeous mountain
• ate more animal produce than I thought possible in 2 days — probably 11 difference species in my stomach at once (IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED?!)
• felt always on edge about whether or not I would offend someone by speaking English or not speaking English
• did not win at bustime bingo even once
• most of my young girlfriend teachers found excuses not to come

INTERESTING

• experienced Noraebang for the first time with uncomfotably drunk staff members who demanded that I sing and dance for them (complied)
• watched the few male coteachers dance wildly to the warbling of the  female teachers.  they were wearing nylons on their heads.  later they took them off their heads and pretended they were doing the traditional korean long-sleeve dance (i don’t know what it’s really called.)
• the crab seems to be stringier and less tasty here than at home (at the Mandarin mmmmmmmmm) Still delicious though
• in Korean, the words for dog and crab are virtually indistinguishable from each other (“ke”) I am afraid that someday I will accidentally order dog.

That was my experience. 

Jarasum is an “island” in Gapyeong county in the same province as Seoul, about an hour and a half northeast of Seoul.  Every year since 2004, the island has hosted an international jazz festival.  About 300 000 people attend EVERY DAY.  We were two. This is our story.  *cue theme music*

Don't put that in your mouth!

Seongji and I met at 11 at Sangbong station in NW Seoul to find the bus terminal that would take us to Gapyeong.  The Sangbong bus is a lesser known bus terminal in the city, but much closer to our apts.  We bought our tickets (5600W.  FIVE DOLLARS! CANADA: LISTEN AND LEARN) and a bus came in 10 minutes.  It was really nice just to get out of Seoul again.  I can’t believe how pretty Gyeonggi-do is.  The leaves haven’t changed yet in the city, but on the mountains, the trees on the top have turned orange and red.  It’s like all the mountains are ginger.

Gapyeong is tiny.  Tiny, but surrounded on all sides by mountains and halved by the Han river (cleaner than in Seoul.)  I have to say, I didn’t notice that Seoul air was dirty, but I noticed a big difference in the countryside air.  It feels  like it moves through your lungs more quickly. 

We walked 15 minutes to one of the jazz islands and bought our tickets for 30 000W, saw that nothing was really started yet, and walked back to town to find some food.  After tasty galbi we found a stage and sat to wait for a performance. 

Here is a summary of the bands we saw:

1. Julien Wilson Trio
            Guitar, tenor sax, and keyboard accordian = good sounds.  Who’d have thought?  The first number they played was called “Grace”.  We felt as if it were fate.  Honestly, I don’t remember the details. It was a while ago, and I was just giddy to be there.  Also, distracted by the monument they were playing on: dedicated to Canadian, American, Australian, and Kiwi soldiers who fought in the Battle of Jarasum during the Korean War.  Apparently there’s a monument solely for the Canadians elsewhere in Gapyeong http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gapyeong_Canada_Monument

Julien Wilson Trio

monumental

2. Rising Star 2009
            I didn’t get any good pictures, but it was a standard 5-piece combo, all Korean.  I won’t lie.  Seongji and I wished they were better looking, but we have high standards.   Kidding. (Maybe.)  They were great though, especially after the lukewarm feeling I had after All That Jazz in Itaewon.  After a few numbers a female singer came on and sang “It Might as Well Be Spring”.  Fab fab fab. Her English diction … not so hot, but her voice was just so silky smooth that I didn’t care at all.

3. Duo Lijbaart &  Brederode
           A piano-drums team from Amsterdam.  We stumbled into their venue about 20 minutes late, after listening to Rising Star 2009 too long.  Unline the other two bands, this one was playing in an indoor venue.  It was  ABSOLUTELY DARK inside except for the dim coloured lights on stage.  It took a handfull of ushers with tiny pen lights to guide us around and down steps and into seats, each handing us over to the next usher.  They got me to the edge of a row and then…left me! I couldn’t see a cm in front of me.  I was just so shocked to be in such a DARK concert environment.  Maybe it’s not that out of the ordinary? Thoughts?  Seongji saved me with her cell phone light.

Their music was much more abstract and atonal than the other two bands (muuuuuch much more than Rising Star 2009) and a lot of it was about sound experience and timbre and harmony rather than melodic structure.  Two years ago, I would have hated it.  This time, I loved it.  Seongji too.  (Also, we agreed that the pianist had it going on.) I only have videos, no pictures.

4. Sinne E & band
           Danish female singer.  Is everyone in Denmark beautiful?  Sinne E has one of those classy jazzy voices you want to hear when you drink real hot chocolate.  You know the one.  Look her up.

BREAK:
We walked back to the island, got lost, kept walking, found what seemed to be an outdoor restaurant, but was really a row of bonfires hosted by mobile T.  If T was your provider, they gave you a fleece blanket (it was COOOOLD) and a sweet potato wrapped in foil for you to roast.  T is not my mobile provider, but it is Seongji’s, and because I am a foreigner, they gave me the goods too!  I was so happy.  Jazz in the air, fleece blanket wrapped around me, sitting on a log by a fire on an island in Korea roasting a sweet potato. 

5. Richard Galliano Tangaria Quartet

        Anything I say about this will be a wild understatement.  It was unbelievable.  (Wild understatement.)  We finally found the main bandstage (which is HUUUUUUUUUUGE) and fought our way to the front and found some space for our fleece blankets.  Then we waited, and waited, and waited, and it was totally worth it.  This group totally blew our minds.  It was amazing.  They played tangos, they played Satie’s L’Ocean, Galliano did a solo piece on a mouth-accordian (which I have never seen before,) people were screaming and dancing and laughing.  The best. 

Please note that Galliano uses his accordian bellows to make ocean sounds.

http://www.jarasumjazz.com/2009/english/main.htm

Please feel free to check out what I experienced online.  If you are ever in the neighbourhood of Seoul, or even of KOREA during this festival, go go go.

…That didn’t explain anything, did it?

Let me put it this way:  It’s like the air ”accidentally” forgets to wear underwear every day.  It’s like every alley holds in its dim dirtyness the Cass-soaked dreams of a 60-year-old leopard-printed-disco-pantsuit-wearing cougar.It’s like the whole neighbourhood was inspired by Rasputin’s beard. 

This is what it is like.

I just do not like Itaewon.

It is inexplicable. 

 Here is Alice presenting exhibit A and B:

The woman this outfit belongs to resides in every darkened doorway of ItaewonItems like this are earnestly sold in the Hamilton Hotel in Itaewon.

Items like this are earnestly sold in the Hamilton Hotel in Itaewon

However, I was there. Thrice.

Thursday: Alice and I met up to find one of the elusive English bookstores and also search for shoes giant enough to fit my monstrous feet. I am size 8 1/2 or 255 here in Korea.  My enormous feet are a whole 5 mm longer than the largest popular size. Unfortunately, shoe designers/vendors in Asia seem to believe that the size of ones foot is in indirect relation to the quality of ones aesthetic taste. Every few shops, we would be directed to the “Big Shelves. Every big shelf was a disappointment; the maiden aunts of the cute shoes sold everywhere else. (The sort of maiden aunt that is ugly, of course.)

We also had a very very tasty dinner just outside of Itaewon. We walked in and the man said to us, “You want kimchi chicken?”  We looked around in mild confusion because of the intensity of his question, and saw that everyone was eating stew in stone bowls. It’s all they served. It smelled heavenly. “Yes,” we replied, and we were pointed to two stools across from a stranger. This took us momentarily aback. It’s ok to sit at the same table as strangers in restaurants. The retaurant had pictures and signatures of famous Koreans all over their walls. We deduced that they were famous for “kimchi chicken.”

Service was obviously fast. And the kimchi “chicken” was so tasty. As were the side dishes. Mostly the laver (a restaurant after my heart.) We were confused for a while because the chicken seemed to be pork. Finally we realized what we were eating was called, “kimchi jjigae”, and we had ethnocentrically Anglicized the word into chicken. (This reminds me that my grade 5 students confuse “kitchen” with “chicken” all the time. Heehee!)

I ended my Itaewon night with my friends Jenny and Jeff, who we bumped into on the way back into Sleazeland. We went to the Rocky Mountain Tavern, which I will admit is a pretty chill place despite a surfeit of Canadiana (mostly beavers.)

Friday: Alice and I met up with Silvia and Jeannie, also of Canadian Connection lore. We ate at a Chinese restaurant above exit 2, then checked ou “All that Jazz”, Korea’s first jazz bar (so I’ve been told.) We arrived an hour before the first set because we were told it filled up quickly. It was dead. I am sure I saw the waiters laughing at us . The band was alright (trumpet-sax-piano-electric bass-drums combo.) Their first set included Take Five.  The trumpet player did this wild solo at one point that just consisted of him trill-screaming on three notes for as long as his lung capacity would let him. (Too long.) But I had a really good time with my Canadian ladies. Drinks were expensive. Take note, Korean residents.

Saturday: I went back YET AGAIN with Alex from Montreal. This time we were shoe shopping for her, and she managed to find 2 nice pairs. We left quickly.

We then went to Anguk to check out Beautiful Store, a second-hand chain in Korea. Insa-dong was a breath of fresh air.  Almost literally.  It took us about an hour to find it, but it was totally worth it. So clean, so cheap, so fruitful. They also carried some gems like these spring shoes.

SPROIIIIIING SPROIIIIIIIIIING

If they had not cost 55,000W, they would have become the centrepiece of my entire apartment. And my weekday footwear.

Query: HOW CAN YOU BE GLUM WITH SPRINGS ON YOUR FEET!?

Response: IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE GLUM WITH SPRINGS ON YOUR FEET.

Our FERRY OF THE PEOPLE meandered its way between the islands off the West coast of Korea until we finally arrived at 덕적도 (Deokjeok-do sounds like dock-jock-dough) at noonish.  Jason, Evan, Ian, Alice and myself found a van-taxi to take us to Seopori beach where a few of our fellow campers were waiting.  The van-taxi cost us around 2000W  each and she drove like a maniac (this was relative to Seoul taxi driving.  Later we met the King of the Road, who put lady driver of van-taxi to shame shame shame.)  Our lady driver was wearing a pink cap that said “Humanity is irrelevant” on the back in rhinestones. I knew I was safe.  Who needs to install seatbelts in your crazy van-tax when you wear a hat like that?

I admit I was a little wary about camping on the most popular beach of the island especially after reading Dave’s ESL Cafe (a mistake! Never read it!) The descriptions of Deokjeok-do as “party island of the foreigners” led me to believe that 1) it would be crazy crowded like Grand Bend is on the August long weekend 2) people would be puking in my sandals 3) no quiet chill time would be had. 

None of this happened.  It was gorgeous.  It was quiet.  No one puked.  Maybe 30 tents were set up along the whole beach, and that was only the fist night.  The site we chose was nice and sandy, but was kind of dangerous, being next to some sort of construction site.  Paul definitely almost did a running somersault onto a giant piece of jagged glass. However, there were flush toilets (even a real sitting toilet) and I think even showers and even a “field kitchen” – I didn’t check out the two latter – but it still felt like an oasis from city times.  Apparently there was a small convenience store and restaurant up the road from us where all the inns were, but I didn’t even leave the beach.  I was so lazy. Soooo lazy.  And it was soooo good.

The 10 or so of us spent a blissful afternoon swimming and sojuing/mocoli-ing and sitting on a floating, canopied,anchored raft, watching the tide come in.  And come further in, and come further in.  It was a never-ending tide.  And the water was BEAUTIFUL.  And the scenery from the water was BEAUTIFUL.  And the weather was BEAUTIFUL. 

I need to expand more on the water.  It felt like swimming in Ontario in July, it was so warm.  But it was salt water, so we were extra-buoyant. Alice and I spent a good hour and a bit in the water, stupidly giddy, screaming when frightened fish leapt out of the water near our faces. It was just so BEAUTIFUL. Later we regretted our long stupid swim because we both got sunburnt faces.  But now that I’ve stopped peeling, I will say that it was totally worth it. 

After the swim, we just chilled on the beach, soaking up (more) sun and playing uke/guitar until the rest of our group arrived.  Alice and I stayed in the castle tent Kyle borrowed from his school, which they described to him as holding “7 or more people”.  Five was pretty much the max.  Maybe we could have squeezed in 6.  But probably not. It took us a long time to set it up. By the time we were done it was campfire time. I came almost exclusively for the campfire, and it totally lived up to my expectations. There were smores and Korean bacon and campfire singing and warm sweaters and hats. We almost stayed up to 11:00pm! *gasp* 

Alice setting up the tentMikey and Sarah watching us set up the tent.

you can see the raft in the left there

Sleep did not come easily to me that night.  Just as I was drifting off to sleep with the gleeful shouts of “CHUSEOK OH-NINE!” in my ears, a mini drama unfolded outside our tent:
(dad, mom, tita leling, uncle mike, mom’s co-workers, other family who might be offended but probably won’t be: the language is rated R, so cover your eyes!)

Girl: HAHAHAHAHAHA*hic*HAHAHA…HA! [flailing around right outside our tent]
Friend: SHUT UP!
Girl: YOU SHUT UP JON!
Jon: …whatever…
Girl: JOOOOOOOOOON! JOOOOOOOOOON HELP ME PUT UP OUR TENT! WE NEED TO SET UP OUR TENT YOU ASSHOLE SET UP THE TENT! HELP ME JOOOOOOOOON JOOOOOON HELLLLLP!
Jon: ok.
Girl: [flails somewhere off towards the bathrooms]
Jon: [moves poles around for a little bit then stops abruptly]

Oh fuck this.
[blessed silence]
Girl: [returning] JON! JON WHERE ARE YOU! I LOST THE POLE JON! JOOOON! JOOOOOO….what the…GET UP! JON GET UP! GET! UP! JON! AAAURRRRGH! [pole is flung into a tree] GET! [thud] UP! [thud]
Jon: Owww.
Sarah: FUCK YOU JON! 
Girl2: Sarah, shut up!
Sarah: JON YOU FUCKER! FUCK YOU JON! WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM JON! JOOOOOOOON I HATE YOU JON!
Girl2: Oh my god.
Sarah: HE FELL ASLEEP ON MY TENT! HE FUCKING FELL ASLEEP ON MY TENT! WHERE AM I GOING TO SLEEP!? I’M NOT SLEEPING WITH YOU ANYMORE JON! WTF!?!? JON YOU ARE THE WORST! I HATE YOU SO MUCH JON! JON! WAKE! UP!
Jon: [snort] Uh-what.  Wha? [snores resume] (He actually fell asleep.)
Sarah: I’M SLEEPING WITH JEN!

It continued in this vein for a good half an hour.  This was followed by an angry sleep-argument from Kyle (hilarious) and then island roosters, which someone in the tent declared to be “goddamn Korean wolves.” When we woke up in the morning, we found a guy (definitely Jon) wrapped in a tent out cold 5 feet from our tent.  Also another tent full of snores and one girl wrapped in a coat lying face-down in the dirt.  She was asleep.  I don’t think Jen let Sarah in her tent.

Alice and I had such a nice time we extended our stay until Sunday, which meant we had to go all the way to the docks because no one on the phones spoke English and no one with us spoke Korean.  For anyone who takes the PEOPLES FERRY in the future, know that one ticket for a specific time is as good as one ticket for any other time.  Even another day.  The PEOPLES  FERRY is chill that way.  To do as the Koreans, Alice and I bought ice creams and broke out the uke before returning to camp.  Because of our horrible sleep, we were too tired to hike that day, but we did swim again to the horror of our faces. 

Saturday night brought a thunderstorm and some high winds.  Our castle tent was only saved by Sebastian’s quick thinking of tying our fly to a rock and then buring the rock.  I felt so earthy. Other tents nearly flew away.  Many people bailed on camping at all and found nice cozy inns.  Later they came out to enjoy our bonfire and bonfire music and idiot foreigners playing dangerously with Roman candles.

At one point to stay awake, Alice and I raced each other to the water.  Two ajushis and a young boy thought we were running towards their private firework display and were overjoyed to share them with us.  All three were giggling madly as they pressed lit fireworks into our hands.  When we ran back to the bonfire they chased us for a few feet yelling “NO RUN NO RUN! COME BACK COME BACK!”

In the morning, we packed up our stuff, ate most of our remaining food in the great Chuseok feast of ’09, and picked shells along the low tide shore.  Most of us left around 1:30, but only Evan, Alice and I took the PEOPLES FERRY home.  Our Chuseok Miracle was on this ferry too, but went out of his way to avoid Evan and his guitar.  We think maybe he was ashamed of his … dancing.

One more Chuseok miracle occured before Monday, and it happened on our long subway ride home. Evan managed yet again to befriend a drunk Korean ajushi.  After trying to drag some schoolboys towards us to speak Englishee with us, hewanted to know where we were from, so I told him Canada and America.  
“Woaaaaaaaaa! Aniyo!” he shouted. ”CANADA, YES!” pointing at Alice. “CANADA, NO!” point at me, “AFRICA, YES!” 
“Nooo, Canada,” I told him.
“NO! NO! CANADA NO! AFRICA YES!”
I don’t know what it was about my lobster-style red face that spoke to him so strongly of Africa.

I slept so hard Sunday night.

The following video is a short clip of one of my grade 4 classes.  We were playing a game called “BOMBS AWAY!” which I have used at least 3 seperate times. The theme was “Who is she/Who is he?”  Grade fours are awesome.  They’re still as sweet as the grade 3s, but with a calmer way about them.

The next few videos are from the weekend before Chuseok at the Seoul International Drum Festival.  It was amazing.  It wasn’t as international as I might have hoped (the one non-Korean group being from Brazil … and only pulling out any drums for the last piece.  Mostly toned booty-shaking was going down.  No one minded.) There WERE a lot of female ensembles though and we kept saying that we’d never seen Korean women seem so … wild before.  These women were totally in love with drum music. I have a lot more videos, but I pulled the nicest ones.  Sorry for the horrible sound quality.  Maybe turn off your sound. For real.