Chigae is the word for "stew" in Korean. It is pronounced /chee-gay/. In any case, chigae is my go-to food when I'm not sure what else is on the menu, and I'd say that just about 9 out of 10 restaurants either have chigae on the menu or will make it even if it is not. In fact, I so regularly eat chigae, that my friend Eric has nicknamed me chigae. We'll see if the name sticks. Anyway, just last night I went to a small restaurant located 20 feet from my doorstep, and guess what I ordered?
Well, surprise surprise, I wanted Chamchi Chigae (or tuna stew), but they only had Gimchi Chigae (fermented cabbage and pork stew). So, I got the gimchi variety. Well, not only was the chigae the best I've had in Korea thus far (who knew this little hidden gem was right across from my house), but the waitress, a woman who looked as though she were in her late 40's or early 50's, brought me an overwhelming amount of side dishes. Now, banchan (the Korean word for side-dishes) are usually part of any Korean meal, and it's expected that for a single person dining out three or four different sides (all typically vegetarian) are brought to the table. Well, last night, the woman brought me about 12 different side dishes, as well as a second soup and fried pancake both of which I did not order. As she was virtually smothering me in food, she was also, from what my poor Korean skills could tell me, insisting that I call her "Mom." So, I guess you could say that I now have a Korean Mom. I think she was also trying to tell me that she wanted to make me her "fat baby" because those were the only words of English that she apparently had. Maybe she was just calling me fat. Regardless, about 45 minutes later, not seemingly even dented the food before me, I was incredibly full, and ready to leave. So, I got up, asked for the bill, and was totally taken aback by the fact that the entire meal cost a mere W6,000 (6,000 won) or as of 11/1/11 $5.38. Hot damn. In the words of my Poppa, I had just eaten at a total "find." I'll be back soon, but this next time, I'll make sure to first skip lunch.
Monday, October 31, 2011
A Twirling Marvel
Busan Firework Festival
Nate and I just arrived back in Ulsan after a raucous weekend in Busan during which we saw the Busan fireworks festival, celebrated Halloween, and pre-celebrated Danielle's birthday. Quite tired and hungry, we headed to a small noodle restaurant in the Ulsan University area. But first, a bit about the weekend.
The annual firework festival draws a croud in the thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, and is located on Gwaghali Beach in Busan. Similar to New Years in Times Square in New York, we reserved our spot on the beach around 2PM even though the fireworks did not start until 8PM, and I'm glad we got there so early. To cut right to the chase, as the beach got more and more filled with people, the night began to set in, and as the night began to set in, unfortunately, so did some rain clouds, and about 30 minutes into the show, I, as well as the rest of the group I was with, decided to hustle our chilled and sand-covered selves to the nearest place of refuge which just so happened to be a fried chicken shop called "The Frypan." Wearing my Halloween costume, or rather, the costume my friends bought me and the one with which they surprised me (a polar bear hat, a pink fuzzy tiara, an adult sized diaper and pacifier, and a magic wand), soaking wet, covered head to toe in sand, quite buzzed from our libations, and not having eaten in hours, the approximately 8 of us polished off 4 or 5 platters of fried chicken, and probably left an equivalent or greater amount of weight in sand on the floor of the restaurant. At the end of the whole ordeal, my costume diaper was too soggy to stay on any longer (thankfully I was wearing shorts underneath), so I excused myself to the restroom, tore off the diaper, returned to the table at which point everyone was splitting the bill, and a few minutes later was again walking in the rain, but this time, we were headed to the subway station and eventually to some bars to continue to celebrate Halloween and Danielle's birthday. At the last minute I decided to detour to my hotel in order to change before going to the bars. However, my detour turned into me feeling too cozy in my warm dry clothes and thus, I did not make it to any more bars.
The next morning, and keep in mind this is all hearsay to me, I was told that a person (who shall remain unnamed) was apparently streaking down the main street where all the bars were located. Though there are apparently pictures, I've yet to see them, and frankly, I don't want to.
In any case, a couple of the bar goers had put their bags in a locker in a subway station during the previous night, and now, quite hung over and tired were beginning the task of retracing their steps in order to find their bags. Though at first I decided to tag along on the journey (it reminded me of the movie "Dude, Where's My Car, or the more recent "Hangover #1"), at the last minute Nate and I decided to head home, and once arriving in Ulsan decided to get a bite at a small noodle restaurant.
As we were sitting at the table waiting for our food, the girls next to us received their dishes first. One had ordered some sort of fried pork cutlet, and the other, to our great surprise, ordered spaghetti with cheese and sauce. You see, noodles are quite common here, but I'm talking about Udon, or Ramen, or anything but spaghetti, so the heaping pile of spaghetti coated in red sauce and heaping with melted cheese caught both of our attention. More over, when the girl reached for a FORK and began to TWIRL it in the pile, both of our jaws hit the ground. And just as we were about to drool, the girl gave both of us a glance as to say "What, you've never seen a Korean use a fork?" and we realized that we were both rudely staring. On second thought, maybe we weren't rudely staring, but rather were just staring in the same way so many Koreans stare at us when we use chopsticks. Either way, Nate and I instantly realized the comic value of what had just happened, somewhat embarrassed stopped staring at the girl, and resume our conversation.
I guess two things struck me about the whole crazy weekend. First, when I was on the beach in Busan watching the fireworks, though by my American standards my personal-bubble had been popped about 50 times over, I didn't at all mind, and two, when I was back in Ulsan at the noodle restaurant, I caught myself marveling at a girl twirling spaghetti on a fork. The reason I mention these two seemingly insignificant parts of my weekend is because in retrospect, I think they are quite significant. They are significant because they are proof positive that my perspective is changing. They are proof that my sense of tolerable and intolerable, that my sense of normal and abnormal are shifting and changing and causing my entire orientation to the world to be different.
I've been in South Korea for just about 2.5 months at this point, and if you asked me, before I took this moment to write this post, "Seth, do you think you have changed at all by being in South Korea" I would have likely answered in the negative. However, I'm coming to realize that the changes I have already experienced and the ones I anticipate I will experience may not be as fundamental and drastic as I had imagined they would be, but rather, I think they will be more subtle, more mild, more likely to go completely unnoticed unless I take the time to introspect. So, what does this all mean? I don't know quite yet. I'll have to think about it for a while, and I suspect that I might not even realize all the subtle changes until I am back home and thus in a situation which may more starkly highlight such changes.
Hmmm...now I've got myself thinking. I wonder what other changes have taken place that are quite unnoticeable here in Korea but would be quite obvious back home.
Who knows, I think only time, and maybe the folks I interact with back home will be able to tell.
Nate and I just arrived back in Ulsan after a raucous weekend in Busan during which we saw the Busan fireworks festival, celebrated Halloween, and pre-celebrated Danielle's birthday. Quite tired and hungry, we headed to a small noodle restaurant in the Ulsan University area. But first, a bit about the weekend.
The annual firework festival draws a croud in the thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, and is located on Gwaghali Beach in Busan. Similar to New Years in Times Square in New York, we reserved our spot on the beach around 2PM even though the fireworks did not start until 8PM, and I'm glad we got there so early. To cut right to the chase, as the beach got more and more filled with people, the night began to set in, and as the night began to set in, unfortunately, so did some rain clouds, and about 30 minutes into the show, I, as well as the rest of the group I was with, decided to hustle our chilled and sand-covered selves to the nearest place of refuge which just so happened to be a fried chicken shop called "The Frypan." Wearing my Halloween costume, or rather, the costume my friends bought me and the one with which they surprised me (a polar bear hat, a pink fuzzy tiara, an adult sized diaper and pacifier, and a magic wand), soaking wet, covered head to toe in sand, quite buzzed from our libations, and not having eaten in hours, the approximately 8 of us polished off 4 or 5 platters of fried chicken, and probably left an equivalent or greater amount of weight in sand on the floor of the restaurant. At the end of the whole ordeal, my costume diaper was too soggy to stay on any longer (thankfully I was wearing shorts underneath), so I excused myself to the restroom, tore off the diaper, returned to the table at which point everyone was splitting the bill, and a few minutes later was again walking in the rain, but this time, we were headed to the subway station and eventually to some bars to continue to celebrate Halloween and Danielle's birthday. At the last minute I decided to detour to my hotel in order to change before going to the bars. However, my detour turned into me feeling too cozy in my warm dry clothes and thus, I did not make it to any more bars.
The next morning, and keep in mind this is all hearsay to me, I was told that a person (who shall remain unnamed) was apparently streaking down the main street where all the bars were located. Though there are apparently pictures, I've yet to see them, and frankly, I don't want to.
In any case, a couple of the bar goers had put their bags in a locker in a subway station during the previous night, and now, quite hung over and tired were beginning the task of retracing their steps in order to find their bags. Though at first I decided to tag along on the journey (it reminded me of the movie "Dude, Where's My Car, or the more recent "Hangover #1"), at the last minute Nate and I decided to head home, and once arriving in Ulsan decided to get a bite at a small noodle restaurant.
As we were sitting at the table waiting for our food, the girls next to us received their dishes first. One had ordered some sort of fried pork cutlet, and the other, to our great surprise, ordered spaghetti with cheese and sauce. You see, noodles are quite common here, but I'm talking about Udon, or Ramen, or anything but spaghetti, so the heaping pile of spaghetti coated in red sauce and heaping with melted cheese caught both of our attention. More over, when the girl reached for a FORK and began to TWIRL it in the pile, both of our jaws hit the ground. And just as we were about to drool, the girl gave both of us a glance as to say "What, you've never seen a Korean use a fork?" and we realized that we were both rudely staring. On second thought, maybe we weren't rudely staring, but rather were just staring in the same way so many Koreans stare at us when we use chopsticks. Either way, Nate and I instantly realized the comic value of what had just happened, somewhat embarrassed stopped staring at the girl, and resume our conversation.
I guess two things struck me about the whole crazy weekend. First, when I was on the beach in Busan watching the fireworks, though by my American standards my personal-bubble had been popped about 50 times over, I didn't at all mind, and two, when I was back in Ulsan at the noodle restaurant, I caught myself marveling at a girl twirling spaghetti on a fork. The reason I mention these two seemingly insignificant parts of my weekend is because in retrospect, I think they are quite significant. They are significant because they are proof positive that my perspective is changing. They are proof that my sense of tolerable and intolerable, that my sense of normal and abnormal are shifting and changing and causing my entire orientation to the world to be different.
I've been in South Korea for just about 2.5 months at this point, and if you asked me, before I took this moment to write this post, "Seth, do you think you have changed at all by being in South Korea" I would have likely answered in the negative. However, I'm coming to realize that the changes I have already experienced and the ones I anticipate I will experience may not be as fundamental and drastic as I had imagined they would be, but rather, I think they will be more subtle, more mild, more likely to go completely unnoticed unless I take the time to introspect. So, what does this all mean? I don't know quite yet. I'll have to think about it for a while, and I suspect that I might not even realize all the subtle changes until I am back home and thus in a situation which may more starkly highlight such changes.
Hmmm...now I've got myself thinking. I wonder what other changes have taken place that are quite unnoticeable here in Korea but would be quite obvious back home.
Who knows, I think only time, and maybe the folks I interact with back home will be able to tell.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
An Efficient Medical System? Must Be a Dream...
Yesterday, I had my first experience with the Korean medical system. In short, I have a little sinus infection, so nothing to serious (don't worry Mom ;-)), but just as the length of this post is pretty short, so too was my experience at the hospital, because to cut right to the chase, the medical systeme here is quite efficient.
So, I walked into a hospital. Doctors all work in hospitals, and private practices are very rare. Once you check in at the front desk they process your NATIONAL HEALTH INSURANCE card, and then escort you to the appropriate specialist. In my case, that was the Otolaryngologist. After waiting less than 5 minutes, the doctor brought me into his office, asked me about my symptoms, asked me if I had ever had similar symptoms and if so the diagnosis. I told him, it felt like a sinus infection and that I've had them before. I also told him I've been swimming quite a bit, getting quite a bit of water in my ears, etc, and that I was pretty certain that it was a sinus infection. To my surprise, he was very receptive to my self-diagnosis, and told me that it sounded like a sinus infection but that he should double check to make sure. So, he looked in my nose, ears and throat, and two minutes later agreed with me, wrote me a prescription, and then he sent me on my way. All said and done, I met with him for about 10 minutes. Then came the accounting department and my bill. As I'm used to the astronomical cost of health care services in the U.S., I was prepared to pay at least $50 for my visit, but when the bill came to only $5, I was blown away. So, I payed the woman behind the counter, took my prescription to get filled at a nearby drug store, and was done. By the way, the 4 medicines the doctor gave me all of which I have to take three times a day for the next 5 days cost $8. Come on America, get your act together.
And, aside from how amazingly affordable the experience was, I was also amazed at how much trust and value the doctor put in my self-diagnosis. Surely if his examination should many contraindications to my claims he would not have agreed w/ me, but at least he used my own feelings as a jumping off point for his examination. Back in the States, every time I go to the doctor I feel as though I tell the doctor my symptoms and then she/he basically has the attitude of "well let me check you out and see if what you are telling me is true." Hmmm...on paper I guess the two scenarios don't sound too different, but being in his office and feeling how much respect and consideration he gave my self-diagnosis, it was definitely different than home.
And just to play the devils advocate, maybe this doctor who gave so much creedenc to my self-diagnosis was only able to do so in the context of SoKo where illicit drug use is almost non-existant and where (at least as far as I've seen) drug abuse is minimal too. And...surely had I gone into the hospital complaing of pain wanting some super strong pain killers, I'm sure the doctor would have been a bit more skeptical too, but regardless, I felt respected, acknowledged, and valued as a patient in a way that I've never felt before.
So, that's it. If you get sick here, aparently, to get the medical care you require, you don't need much time or money, and when you meet with the doctor, you likely won't feel as though your self-diagnosis is worthless in comparison to the doctors years of medical school, but rather that your self-diagnosis is yet another piece of the puzzle which the doctor uses to piece together and answer to the question of, what's wrong with this patient.
That's all for now.
Oh, wait, one more thing. They have a brownie mix here in SoKo that you basically cook in the microwave. So, after taking maybe a minute or two to add water to the dry ingredients and then mix them into a smooth batter and then microwaving them for another 3 minutes, you can have fresh-baked, no wati, fresh-microwaved brownies (which taste FANTISTIC) in 5 minutes all said and done. Again, America, what's the deal? Not only does SoKo have a more efficient medical system, but they have a more efficient way of making brownies that taste just as good as the ones back home.
Aight, that's all for now.
No more America bashing, I really do love (and miss) the states ;-)
So, I walked into a hospital. Doctors all work in hospitals, and private practices are very rare. Once you check in at the front desk they process your NATIONAL HEALTH INSURANCE card, and then escort you to the appropriate specialist. In my case, that was the Otolaryngologist. After waiting less than 5 minutes, the doctor brought me into his office, asked me about my symptoms, asked me if I had ever had similar symptoms and if so the diagnosis. I told him, it felt like a sinus infection and that I've had them before. I also told him I've been swimming quite a bit, getting quite a bit of water in my ears, etc, and that I was pretty certain that it was a sinus infection. To my surprise, he was very receptive to my self-diagnosis, and told me that it sounded like a sinus infection but that he should double check to make sure. So, he looked in my nose, ears and throat, and two minutes later agreed with me, wrote me a prescription, and then he sent me on my way. All said and done, I met with him for about 10 minutes. Then came the accounting department and my bill. As I'm used to the astronomical cost of health care services in the U.S., I was prepared to pay at least $50 for my visit, but when the bill came to only $5, I was blown away. So, I payed the woman behind the counter, took my prescription to get filled at a nearby drug store, and was done. By the way, the 4 medicines the doctor gave me all of which I have to take three times a day for the next 5 days cost $8. Come on America, get your act together.
And, aside from how amazingly affordable the experience was, I was also amazed at how much trust and value the doctor put in my self-diagnosis. Surely if his examination should many contraindications to my claims he would not have agreed w/ me, but at least he used my own feelings as a jumping off point for his examination. Back in the States, every time I go to the doctor I feel as though I tell the doctor my symptoms and then she/he basically has the attitude of "well let me check you out and see if what you are telling me is true." Hmmm...on paper I guess the two scenarios don't sound too different, but being in his office and feeling how much respect and consideration he gave my self-diagnosis, it was definitely different than home.
And just to play the devils advocate, maybe this doctor who gave so much creedenc to my self-diagnosis was only able to do so in the context of SoKo where illicit drug use is almost non-existant and where (at least as far as I've seen) drug abuse is minimal too. And...surely had I gone into the hospital complaing of pain wanting some super strong pain killers, I'm sure the doctor would have been a bit more skeptical too, but regardless, I felt respected, acknowledged, and valued as a patient in a way that I've never felt before.
So, that's it. If you get sick here, aparently, to get the medical care you require, you don't need much time or money, and when you meet with the doctor, you likely won't feel as though your self-diagnosis is worthless in comparison to the doctors years of medical school, but rather that your self-diagnosis is yet another piece of the puzzle which the doctor uses to piece together and answer to the question of, what's wrong with this patient.
That's all for now.
Oh, wait, one more thing. They have a brownie mix here in SoKo that you basically cook in the microwave. So, after taking maybe a minute or two to add water to the dry ingredients and then mix them into a smooth batter and then microwaving them for another 3 minutes, you can have fresh-baked, no wati, fresh-microwaved brownies (which taste FANTISTIC) in 5 minutes all said and done. Again, America, what's the deal? Not only does SoKo have a more efficient medical system, but they have a more efficient way of making brownies that taste just as good as the ones back home.
Aight, that's all for now.
No more America bashing, I really do love (and miss) the states ;-)
Monday, October 24, 2011
On Haeinsa (1000 years of history) and Spontaneity
Last Saturday, Daniella, Nate and I finally arrived to Heinsa after a three hour bus-train-metro-bus journey. Stretching our stiff legs, we shuffled off the bus into the refreshingly cool crisp fall air and we were immediately greeted not only by hoards of Korean tourists, but also by beautiful mountains whispily-dabbled with misty clouds and blanked in tangerine orange, fire red, and sunshine yellow foliage. Fall has arrived here in Korea, and being one of my favorite seasons as well as the one that most reminds me of my family and childhood in New England, I am trying to soak it up as much as possible.
Heinsa is celebrating it's 1000 year anniversary this year, thus the crowds of Koreans. However, as a UNESCO World Heritage site, it's quite understandable. In short, Heinsa houses the Trippitaka Korana, a set of 80,000 hand-carved wood blocks on which spell out the entire Mahayana Buddhist canon. Over 1000 years ago when King _____ (I can't remember his name) commissioned their creation, that request essentially unified the Buddhist religion here in Korea, thus the are not only a quite impressive piece of history, but as they have survived in perfect condition over the past 1000 years, they as well as their storage facility are also an impressive feat of engineering. To say the least, in spite of the long journey, I found Heinsa quite fascinating.
After seeing the wood blocks, of which we were not allowed to take pictures but of which I snuck one picture, we headed back to the bus terminal, bought our tickets, waited about 20 minutes for the bus, and while we were waiting, met a group of mentally and physically disabled Korean people. More specifically, we were standing next to a deaf man and women as well as their two children who could hear and who could also speak basic English. The kids taught us how to say “Hello” in Korean. It was pretty cool to think about the universality of sign language. In any case, their bus arrived first, so we said goodbye since they did not teach us how to sign goodbye, and a few minutes later our own bus arrived.
In characteristic Korean fashion, once the bus arrived, I was moderately pushing in getting onto the bus, and just as I go on the bus, the woman who had pushed her way in front of me and Nate turns around and says, “You were quite pushy.” I was taken aback , but just let it slide because I was happy to be on the bus. Though, once I realized that there was only standing room and an hour and a half journey in front of me, I was, to say the least, not super happy, but I guess that’s the Korean bus system. To pass the time, I began to talk to Daniella and Nate, and about five minutes into our conversation, a middle aged Korean man turned to us and said “Please be silent.” At this point, I was tired from the day’s travel, a bit unhappy about having been pushed and then reprimanded for pushing and on top of it all having to stand on a bus for an hour and a half, so I almost go mouthy, but at the last second just decided to let it go, pulled out my Kindle and tried to read. An hour and a half later, we arrived back at the metro station, took the metro to the train, the train to the bus, and finally retired for the night in a DVD room (a for-rent room where you can sit on a nice couch and watch a movie).
In retrospect of this past weekend, I am coming to realize that my journey to Heinsa was not just significant because of the historical site I got to see, but also because, I did not hesitate to travel for three hours to a place which I have never been, using a public transportation system that is almost entirely in Korean, in a country that even now at two-ish months in, still feels pretty foreign. I guess what I’m saying, is that I’m giving myself some kudos for simply traveling so far with so little hesitation. In a large sense, I’ve overcome the discomfort of getting on busses/trains/metros and not entirely knowing where I’ll end up. It’s still a bit unnerving, but whereas when I first got here I was much more hesitant, now I am hardly at all.
I’ve come to realize that with that lack of hesitancy comes possibilities of endless dimensions. Of course each time I get on a bus or train or metro, one of the possibilities is that I reach my intended destination, but another one of the possibilities is that I end up somewhere completely unplanned, and in that second possibility lives spontaneity. I’m coming to realize that spontaneity is not something that just occurs but is something that you have to allow to occur, and to allow it to occur I’m coming to realize that all you have to do is let go of control if only for even a little while. I find that lack of control, or at least most control, to be on par with reaching the crest of a roller coaster right before the big drop. At that moment, though I’m full of excitement and anticipation and a bit of nervousness, I know that in the end, everything will be fine because I trust the roller coaster.
I guess what I am trying to say is that when I get on the bus without 100% control and understanding of where I’ll end up, I’m fine with that feeling of the unknown because I’m coming to trust myself here in Korea in a way that I’ve only had glimpses of before. I’m beginning to trust myself because, in almost purely out of necessity, I’m beginning to trust other people to a greater extent than I have ever before. My mantra here has essentially become that in the “worst case, we can just ask someone for help.” Had I not come to SoKo and been put into countless situations where I only have the capabilities of an infant, I’m not sure I would have learned the virtue and experienced firsthand the benefit of having to rely so heavily on others. It’s a nice feeling because it’s allowing me to let go of the reins so to speak, experience the ensuing spontaneity, and all the while know that things will end up okay.
I’m headed to the Busan Fireworks Festival this weekend. Details and pictures will follow :-)
And to anyone reading this, I miss you deeply, and I hope you are happy and well!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Do What Ya Wanna Do
Tongdosa and the Flogger
Put quite simply, do what ya wanna do. I think at times it is easy to focus solely on the expectations of others and in doing so lose track of the expectations to which you hold yourself. However, I believe, and I should add quite humbly believe, that meeting your own expectations is one of the most important and vital skills in life. Living to make others happy without first knowing your own requisites for happiness is an artificial existence and one which I can only imagine will lend to mediocrity in all regards.
Learn about yourself.
Learn about what you need to feel happy and fulfilled.
Learn how to blaze your own path without necessarily "reinventing the wheel," and I think, because I don't believe I've entirely done this quiet yet, that this will lead you to a live of happiness.
I know that was kind of random, but I wanted to include that thought.
Put quite simply, do what ya wanna do. I think at times it is easy to focus solely on the expectations of others and in doing so lose track of the expectations to which you hold yourself. However, I believe, and I should add quite humbly believe, that meeting your own expectations is one of the most important and vital skills in life. Living to make others happy without first knowing your own requisites for happiness is an artificial existence and one which I can only imagine will lend to mediocrity in all regards.
Learn about yourself.
Learn about what you need to feel happy and fulfilled.
Learn how to blaze your own path without necessarily "reinventing the wheel," and I think, because I don't believe I've entirely done this quiet yet, that this will lead you to a live of happiness.
I know that was kind of random, but I wanted to include that thought.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Feeling the Rhythm of South Korea
So, the title of this post has both literal and figurative value.
Literally, I went to the Ulsan International Music Festival (UIMF) the weekend of October 8th and 9th. Though I don't have too much to write about, I will say that it was a totally free event in downtown Ulsan, and the music was great. Too many times I've been to a free concert during which the first two excruciating seconds gave me complete insight as to why the concert was FREE. However, the UIMF was a far cry from excruciating, and in fact was extremely entertaining.
Figuratively, I'm feeling the rhythm of Korea in the sense that SOME of the day to day activities that a mere two months ago felt extremely novel, no longer have the same appeal. For example, no longer does going to the grocery store or the open-air market or even walking down the street feel like an adventure, and frankly I'm really glad to be at this point. I can imagine that if the novelty of the everyday motions did not eventually wear off and thus so to the feeling of over-stimulation, that life here would be, well, quite overwhelming.
I am also in the rhythm of SoKo in that I have a couple friend groups with whom I meet and hang out with on a regular basis. In Ulsan live most of my orientation friends, and in Eonyong, my hometown, I've made yet another crew of friends. Typically speaking, I see the Ulsan people on the weekends, and I see the Eonyong people during the week. In fact, for the past 6 or 7 weeks running, my Eonyong-Crew (as I call them) and I have met for "family dinners." We just go to a cheap little Kimbap (Korean sushi) and Chigae (Korean stew) place, but the point is that it's become somewhat of a regular activity.
And though I have found a great rhythm over here, there are the occasional unexpected beats that add so much uniqueness to my life over here. One of those beats happened last weekend, (10/15/11) when Daniella and I visited Tongdosa (Tongdo Temple). To make a LOOOOOONG story short, in an unplanned twist of fate, we ended up meeting one of our Korean friends at Tongdosa. Heidi is her English name. Heidi is very friendly with a couple monks at this Buddhist temple because she is a practicing Buddhist.
Heidi skipped us right by the main temple and took us to two "branch" temples. On the way to the first, Heidi was ranting and raving about how excited she was to show us the "Flogger." Daniella and I could not figure out what she was talking about. Heidi tried to further explain that the Flogger is gold and is about 2cm long. Still, we had no clue. Heidi explained that the Flogger lived in a rock. At this point, Daniella and I just kind of nodded to make it seem like we understood, but we still had no clue. We finally arrived to the much talked about temple, and as Heidi said, people were peering into a small hole in a large rock. "That is the Floggers home" she told us. So, we waited in line, stepped up on to the little stepping stone and peered in. Nothing. We both saw nothing. Somewhat deflated, we walked away from the rock and around another corner at which point Heidi was almost jumping up and down with excitement pointing to a big picture of a GOLD FROG exclaiming, "This is the Flogger." Go figure. Apparently, there is a little auspicious frog that lives in the rock and if it shows itself, it is considered good luck.
Next, Heidi took Daniella and I to another temple and introduced us to one of the monks, and before he even asked our names, he asked us to sit and drink tea, and then for the next 45 minutes, he barraged us with deep philosophical questions such as "what is happiness" "what is the mind" "where is the mind." All the while, Heidi, who really does have great English skills was trying to translate. After out conversation ended, he invited us to eat dinner at the monastery. After a delicious (vegan) meal, Heidi drove Daniella and I back to the bus station. On the way to the bus station we asked Heidi if the monk usually talks about such deep topics, and she said he had never done so before. At that, we all just looked at each other and cracked up.
The oddest part of the day for me was this: Heidi, who was able to quite perfectly translate the philosophical conversation for 45 minutes, could not pronounce the word "frog." Gotta love good ol' south Korea.
Last but not least, last Sunday (10/16/11) Daniella, Virginia Jess and I went paragliding. Rather, Daniella and Virginia went, but by the time Jess I and were up, the wind was dangerous, so once I go, I'll write about it. For some pics of Daniella and Virginia going, check out my Facebook or the Mr. Lee's Ulsan Paragliding School Website (http://www.ulsanpara.co.kr/rgboard/view.php?bbs_id=bbs_c&doc_num=1796).
Literally, I went to the Ulsan International Music Festival (UIMF) the weekend of October 8th and 9th. Though I don't have too much to write about, I will say that it was a totally free event in downtown Ulsan, and the music was great. Too many times I've been to a free concert during which the first two excruciating seconds gave me complete insight as to why the concert was FREE. However, the UIMF was a far cry from excruciating, and in fact was extremely entertaining.
Figuratively, I'm feeling the rhythm of Korea in the sense that SOME of the day to day activities that a mere two months ago felt extremely novel, no longer have the same appeal. For example, no longer does going to the grocery store or the open-air market or even walking down the street feel like an adventure, and frankly I'm really glad to be at this point. I can imagine that if the novelty of the everyday motions did not eventually wear off and thus so to the feeling of over-stimulation, that life here would be, well, quite overwhelming.
I am also in the rhythm of SoKo in that I have a couple friend groups with whom I meet and hang out with on a regular basis. In Ulsan live most of my orientation friends, and in Eonyong, my hometown, I've made yet another crew of friends. Typically speaking, I see the Ulsan people on the weekends, and I see the Eonyong people during the week. In fact, for the past 6 or 7 weeks running, my Eonyong-Crew (as I call them) and I have met for "family dinners." We just go to a cheap little Kimbap (Korean sushi) and Chigae (Korean stew) place, but the point is that it's become somewhat of a regular activity.
And though I have found a great rhythm over here, there are the occasional unexpected beats that add so much uniqueness to my life over here. One of those beats happened last weekend, (10/15/11) when Daniella and I visited Tongdosa (Tongdo Temple). To make a LOOOOOONG story short, in an unplanned twist of fate, we ended up meeting one of our Korean friends at Tongdosa. Heidi is her English name. Heidi is very friendly with a couple monks at this Buddhist temple because she is a practicing Buddhist.
Heidi skipped us right by the main temple and took us to two "branch" temples. On the way to the first, Heidi was ranting and raving about how excited she was to show us the "Flogger." Daniella and I could not figure out what she was talking about. Heidi tried to further explain that the Flogger is gold and is about 2cm long. Still, we had no clue. Heidi explained that the Flogger lived in a rock. At this point, Daniella and I just kind of nodded to make it seem like we understood, but we still had no clue. We finally arrived to the much talked about temple, and as Heidi said, people were peering into a small hole in a large rock. "That is the Floggers home" she told us. So, we waited in line, stepped up on to the little stepping stone and peered in. Nothing. We both saw nothing. Somewhat deflated, we walked away from the rock and around another corner at which point Heidi was almost jumping up and down with excitement pointing to a big picture of a GOLD FROG exclaiming, "This is the Flogger." Go figure. Apparently, there is a little auspicious frog that lives in the rock and if it shows itself, it is considered good luck.
Next, Heidi took Daniella and I to another temple and introduced us to one of the monks, and before he even asked our names, he asked us to sit and drink tea, and then for the next 45 minutes, he barraged us with deep philosophical questions such as "what is happiness" "what is the mind" "where is the mind." All the while, Heidi, who really does have great English skills was trying to translate. After out conversation ended, he invited us to eat dinner at the monastery. After a delicious (vegan) meal, Heidi drove Daniella and I back to the bus station. On the way to the bus station we asked Heidi if the monk usually talks about such deep topics, and she said he had never done so before. At that, we all just looked at each other and cracked up.
The oddest part of the day for me was this: Heidi, who was able to quite perfectly translate the philosophical conversation for 45 minutes, could not pronounce the word "frog." Gotta love good ol' south Korea.
Last but not least, last Sunday (10/16/11) Daniella, Virginia Jess and I went paragliding. Rather, Daniella and Virginia went, but by the time Jess I and were up, the wind was dangerous, so once I go, I'll write about it. For some pics of Daniella and Virginia going, check out my Facebook or the Mr. Lee's Ulsan Paragliding School Website (http://www.ulsanpara.co.kr/rgboard/view.php?bbs_id=bbs_c&doc_num=1796).
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Travel Guide and Perspective
I finally got around to getting a travel book for South Korea.
And...If you've been reading my blog thus far, you are well aware of my ranting and raving about living in "such beautiful mountains" and how I feel like Eonyong is the "Boulder, Colorado of SoKo" blah, blah, blah!
Well, as it turns out, according to my travel book, the area in which I live is called the "Yeongnam Alps."
Go figure :-)
And...If you've been reading my blog thus far, you are well aware of my ranting and raving about living in "such beautiful mountains" and how I feel like Eonyong is the "Boulder, Colorado of SoKo" blah, blah, blah!
Well, as it turns out, according to my travel book, the area in which I live is called the "Yeongnam Alps."
Go figure :-)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Getting into a Groove
Gyeongju
Mount Top Concert at Conwolche
I didn't blog about the above two events, but they both happened BEFORE the I wrote the text below.
So, I find myself less and less often sitting down and keeping up w/ the good ol' blog. However, I am still trying to make myself write at least one time per week. I think in a way, this blog has been my security blanket for home in the U.S. And...as I feel more and more at home in SoKo, I think I am letting go of this blog a little more each day. Regardless, I'm still committing to at least one entry per week!
In any case, here's where I'm at. This next section (in part) is taken from an e-mail I wrote to a friend.
I'm still marveling over things that back home would seem completely trivial. For example, yesterday I joined a gym and worked out (in a formal setting) for the first time since I arrived. I guess the language barrier makes even the smallest/most mundane accomplishments a pretty big deal.
Also, I'm beginning to cook some Korean food. For the first month being here I ate super simply, but I am now trying to put in more effort to making good food.
I'm also training for a marathon. I'm not going to enter into any formal race, but I am going to run 26.2ish miles around the first of December. The running has really become a great source of joy and release for me, and I look forward to it all the time.
And because my mind is jumping from topic to topic at this point...
I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about how I live back in the U.S., so here are some of my thoughts.
1. Why don't I carry my camera w/ me when I'm back home? Doesn't a camera "legitimize" a place as being particularly noteworthy? And what's to say that Denver is not?
2. Why don't I have a travel guide for Denver? I'm coming to realize that there is TONS of stuff right in my own back yard that I have yet to see/experience?
3. Why is it that being in a foreign country makes me feel more spontaneous/open to adventure being at home? Is it a matter of place, or is it a matter of mindset? (I think it's a 20/80 split respectively)
And here's some more mental vomit. I think the reason I'm so much more focused, career-oriented, less-spontaneous, more planned, more in the box, etc. back home in the States, is because I see everything in the states "mattering" in my "big life picture." I guess back home, I'm afraid to make a mis-step if you will. Back home I felt the need to make everything count. I guess in short, I was super focused on making sure that all of my actions somehow contributed to my career. For some reason, though being here in SoKo is contributing to my career, being here in SoKo feels tangential to my "at home" life, and thus it gives me the willingness to just follow my heart, do what I want to do, not worry about the big picture. It's almost like, the time here "doesn't count" in my "big picture" event though quite obviously EVERYTHING I do in life counts towards that end.
I guess my big take away is this. I'm feeling more spontaneous and less concerned about my "career" in the big picture sense because I am happy doing what I am doing. And surely I can have these same feeling back home, right? I think so. All I have to do is make sure I'm doing what I want to do.
So, when I get home (eventually), though I don't know specifically what I am going to do, I am going to choose something based on the same criteria I used to come to SoKo, and quite simply, that means I have to do something that excites me, intrigues me, and makes me feel a sense of newness and adventure. On top of it, back home I'm going to begin carrying my camera around a lot more (thanks mom for getting me that great little war-proof sony...I use it ALL the time), and I'm also getting a travel book for Denver.
I feel like life is too short to constantly be worrying about the big picture. I think life is like one of those dotist paintings. You know, the paintings that are made up of 1000's of tiny dots. I think if I just zoom way out to see the larger picture, I can miss the nuance of each and every dot. And, I also think that if I spend too much time only zooming in, I can get overwhelmed or burdened by some of the dots that have unattractive colors. So, I guess what I'm getting at is that I think it is all about balance. And I don't mean balance in the 50/50 sense, but balance in the sense of making sure I achieve the right amounts of both the zoomed in mindset and the zoomed out one. For me, I think it's about 80/20 zoomed in to zoomed out. I think as long as I'm enjoying what I'm doing right NOW, the sum total of my life experience, or the sum total of the dot painting will be one of pure joy and beauty.
So, to recap, I'm learning to focus more and more on the now, to be less concerned w/ the large picture (while still keeping so sense of it's formation), and overall just trying to continually engage in things that make me happy, excite me, intrigue me, and make me feel a sense of newness and adventure.
The more people I meet, the more I realize that day-to-day personal happiness is quite an accomplishment, and I'm also realizing that if I can't even accomplish that seemingly simple task, I'll have little to no chance of ever doing anything for others.
So, the conclusion I've reached just now, though being the same as countless other folks in the past, feels pretty new. I need to be happy with my own day-to-day personal existence BEFORE I can worry about the big picture, because again, the happier I am with the day to day, the less I have to worry about the big picture as it will necessarily and automatically be forming into one of happiness. In simpler terms, many many happy days all add up to a happy life.
Boo yah. That's it.
Brain barf: DONE
Mount Top Concert at Conwolche
I didn't blog about the above two events, but they both happened BEFORE the I wrote the text below.
So, I find myself less and less often sitting down and keeping up w/ the good ol' blog. However, I am still trying to make myself write at least one time per week. I think in a way, this blog has been my security blanket for home in the U.S. And...as I feel more and more at home in SoKo, I think I am letting go of this blog a little more each day. Regardless, I'm still committing to at least one entry per week!
In any case, here's where I'm at. This next section (in part) is taken from an e-mail I wrote to a friend.
I'm still marveling over things that back home would seem completely trivial. For example, yesterday I joined a gym and worked out (in a formal setting) for the first time since I arrived. I guess the language barrier makes even the smallest/most mundane accomplishments a pretty big deal.
Also, I'm beginning to cook some Korean food. For the first month being here I ate super simply, but I am now trying to put in more effort to making good food.
I'm also training for a marathon. I'm not going to enter into any formal race, but I am going to run 26.2ish miles around the first of December. The running has really become a great source of joy and release for me, and I look forward to it all the time.
And because my mind is jumping from topic to topic at this point...
I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about how I live back in the U.S., so here are some of my thoughts.
1. Why don't I carry my camera w/ me when I'm back home? Doesn't a camera "legitimize" a place as being particularly noteworthy? And what's to say that Denver is not?
2. Why don't I have a travel guide for Denver? I'm coming to realize that there is TONS of stuff right in my own back yard that I have yet to see/experience?
3. Why is it that being in a foreign country makes me feel more spontaneous/open to adventure being at home? Is it a matter of place, or is it a matter of mindset? (I think it's a 20/80 split respectively)
And here's some more mental vomit. I think the reason I'm so much more focused, career-oriented, less-spontaneous, more planned, more in the box, etc. back home in the States, is because I see everything in the states "mattering" in my "big life picture." I guess back home, I'm afraid to make a mis-step if you will. Back home I felt the need to make everything count. I guess in short, I was super focused on making sure that all of my actions somehow contributed to my career. For some reason, though being here in SoKo is contributing to my career, being here in SoKo feels tangential to my "at home" life, and thus it gives me the willingness to just follow my heart, do what I want to do, not worry about the big picture. It's almost like, the time here "doesn't count" in my "big picture" event though quite obviously EVERYTHING I do in life counts towards that end.
I guess my big take away is this. I'm feeling more spontaneous and less concerned about my "career" in the big picture sense because I am happy doing what I am doing. And surely I can have these same feeling back home, right? I think so. All I have to do is make sure I'm doing what I want to do.
So, when I get home (eventually), though I don't know specifically what I am going to do, I am going to choose something based on the same criteria I used to come to SoKo, and quite simply, that means I have to do something that excites me, intrigues me, and makes me feel a sense of newness and adventure. On top of it, back home I'm going to begin carrying my camera around a lot more (thanks mom for getting me that great little war-proof sony...I use it ALL the time), and I'm also getting a travel book for Denver.
I feel like life is too short to constantly be worrying about the big picture. I think life is like one of those dotist paintings. You know, the paintings that are made up of 1000's of tiny dots. I think if I just zoom way out to see the larger picture, I can miss the nuance of each and every dot. And, I also think that if I spend too much time only zooming in, I can get overwhelmed or burdened by some of the dots that have unattractive colors. So, I guess what I'm getting at is that I think it is all about balance. And I don't mean balance in the 50/50 sense, but balance in the sense of making sure I achieve the right amounts of both the zoomed in mindset and the zoomed out one. For me, I think it's about 80/20 zoomed in to zoomed out. I think as long as I'm enjoying what I'm doing right NOW, the sum total of my life experience, or the sum total of the dot painting will be one of pure joy and beauty.
So, to recap, I'm learning to focus more and more on the now, to be less concerned w/ the large picture (while still keeping so sense of it's formation), and overall just trying to continually engage in things that make me happy, excite me, intrigue me, and make me feel a sense of newness and adventure.
The more people I meet, the more I realize that day-to-day personal happiness is quite an accomplishment, and I'm also realizing that if I can't even accomplish that seemingly simple task, I'll have little to no chance of ever doing anything for others.
So, the conclusion I've reached just now, though being the same as countless other folks in the past, feels pretty new. I need to be happy with my own day-to-day personal existence BEFORE I can worry about the big picture, because again, the happier I am with the day to day, the less I have to worry about the big picture as it will necessarily and automatically be forming into one of happiness. In simpler terms, many many happy days all add up to a happy life.
Boo yah. That's it.
Brain barf: DONE
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)