Bulk in Korea

Since I had heard about Costco since I had first researched coming to Korea, I thought it fitting to visit today of all days. The fridge was empty and I was running on precious little sleep. What better day for free samples?

Last night we went back to Uncle Don's, a darling little place above a kissing club (alleged brothel) between our house and Bumgae. After a disappointing first departure, and after some not-necessarily too alluring convincing (in actuality, I think what was said was, "Alexis, you should come back"), I was back in the bar instead of home, where is perhaps where I should have been. The bar owner wanted to shut down early, so she took us to another bar: a sort of norebong but with live instruments. After nursing a beer for an hour, I finally got up to sing (and, as it turns out, dance). I think I'm still a pretty terrible singer, but you really can't hear yourself up there, so no harm, no foul, right? To make a painfully tone-deaf story short, I rolled in this morning around four-thirty...at least I beat the sunrise. I didn't have to work today, so I just attempted to sleep for a bit before actually starting my Friday. Now I understand the plight of the nightshifter: sleeping while the world wakes is very tough.

I had heard from my new neighbour, who unfortunately is named Tom, that Costco was a whopping hour subway ride from home. Yikes. However, an hour really does pass quickly on these subways and in actuality, the ride from door to door took about that long. Sometimes back home we drive that far to go places. Right? God, sometimes its hard not to have a car.

So Costco is Costco, as far as I'm concerned. What you would see at home (except, sadly, the vast collection of English books...boooo), we saw here. Tuna, strangely, is wildly expensive here, but I bought it anyway, convinced that it was better than tuna we get at home. Suuure. I also braved the heat and the hour-long ride home and got a vat of cream cheese. I miss cheese. Koreans do NOT heart cheese. I'm Italian at heart, truly...I miss the finer things in life. Oh, I guess one big difference is the splendour of alcohol available at this Costco...veeery nice. I didn't splurge, but there was a pretty pretty nice selection of wine.

Note: why am I writing about food? Perhaps I'm hungry? I think not though...onto the funny stuff ;)

So the aisles were totally jam-packed with carts and slow-moving human beings, but this Costco is not full of impatient Caucasians but, rather, patient and very careful Asians (and their children...some asleep peacefully in large carts). God. So we were in Costco for about three hours in total, honestly. It was painful. But really very funny. The great part is that practically no one speaks English and if they do, they completely do not understand the slang and the quick wit we spew out while shopping. So its hilarious to drive along the aisles, ranting and raving, laughing and joking, marvelling at the selection of Fruit by the Foot, ketchup, and kimchi, but not of much else we hold near and dear. The samples were pretty nice though.

I'm tired and actually sore...excuse the lack of wit. I might stay in tonight and enjoy the four English channels on my big tv, thanks to my newly-installed cable. AND internet, might I add...finally :)

The Wonder of Tehnology

There are over 9 million people on Skype right now. Does that mean there are at least nine million people who miss someone at this exact moment as much as I miss you? One has to wonder if this is comforting or sad...perhaps a bit of both.

Part Deux

Okay, now it is time to talk about something that actually matters: Sex and the City Movie Part II. I may be living a world away, but according to a very reliable source (laineygossip.com), there is some news I've missed that I simply must share. Apparently in Part Deux, Stanny gets hitched! Can you imagine! To who? Anthony? I LOVE it. And Samantha finds herself in jail.
"This will always be the night I got arrested for smokin' a doobie."
Oh, and I'm attempting to watch Katie Holmes homage (she actually used that word) to Judy Garland on So You Think You Can Dance. I can't wait...apparently it was a real embarassment (to her! Come on).

"I couldn't help but wonder..." who the heck is going to see this movie with me?

Long Live the Giller

I just finished "Late Nights on Air" by Elizabeth Hay, the 2008 winner of the Giller Prize. Good old Scotiabank, picking good books. Though the book took a bit of getting used to, as it was much smarter than me, much like my Physics students, once I caught up, I was taken. Two parts of the book caught my attention...

"Mr. Funk, the poet and dictionary publisher, had complied a list of the ten most beautiful words in the English language, namely: mist, hush, luminous, murmuring, dawn, chimes, lullaby, melody, tranquil, and golden."

"My dad was something of a mystic," he added. "Like the Celts, he believed we're made up of invisible currents. He used to say ther are 'thin places' where we're closer to the unseen world."
"Name a thin place."
"The ocean. You stand next to the sea and you're in touch with all your longings and all your losses."
"Longings and losses," repeated Harry. "That does sort of sum it up."

Happy reading.

Call me Annabelle Bronstein

(For those of you who don't know, the title is a SATC reference when Samantha pretends to be this lady to get into the SoHo house pool..."we're so fabulous we're full everyday. We just don't have room for one more". Thank God Seoul is not NYC... )

So it's hot here. Really hot. The air is so moist that when you just stand outside here, you sort of get sweaty. It is really gross. So spent a fair bit of time researching JUST what I needed to make me feel better on a day like today (or every single day here, for that matter): a pool. Since we tried out the Waterpark here in town and was a tad disappointed, so say the very least, I ensured that this search included the word, "chlorine". Naturally I found one. We waited until the day was hot, sunny, and perfect for pooling, and headed into the southeast corner of Seoul, right on the Han River. It took a little longer than I had hoped to get there (as in, half an hour on the metro and a 20-minute walk, which, as we found out later, was easily shortened to about 10 minutes...easy), but as it turns out, that was the first day the pool was open due to previous construction, and admission (usually 5000 won) was free. It was heavenly. And chlorinated. The latter being way more important than the former.

This is an image of the pool as we were leaving. You can see in the background a bridge linking this little island to the mainland (Seoul), the city behind the pool, and the river that the bridge crosses over. The whole park was under construction and was shaping up to be quite a beautiful place.

The best part was the Korean Muscle Men who took the opportunity to not only sun themselves, but also show the entire place JUST how ripped they were. What a riot. I was reminded of Arnold Schwarzenegger posing on stage in the early part of his career. The only difference (okay, VAST difference) was that there was no stage, no cameras, no contest, just men standing, showing off, so incredibly proud of their pecs. Awesome. Aside from The Men who I, unfortunately did not get any photos of (I thought they would get the wrong idea), the place was great....don't you just want to visit?

We went to sit on the chairs, but found out that you must pay 8000 won to lounge, 3000 of which is refunded. So we lounged for free elsewhere. So I took the plunge. This is the nicest pool I have ever seen, honestly, and I was thrilled to actually be submerged in it. Then the whistle blows. Behind ME. For ME. Oh my god. Matt and I are pretty much the only foreigners there that I could see. I turn, humiliated. Lifeguard tells me I have to cover my head to go in the pool. What the blog? I notice (again, I'm not that observant....you know those pictures in In Style magazine where they have a common theme like large belts or new bangs? And the caption explains what that common theme is? Well before I read the title, I try really hard to figure out what connects them and ususally I really can't do it. It was sort of the same thing here.) If I just LOOKED around, I would see that EVERY SINGLE HEAD was covered. No errant hairs, no free flowing locks. Duh. I guess they don't want hair in the drains? Who knows. Regardless of the reason, I wanted IN that damn pool, so I spent 8000 won on a bathing cap. Yup, you heard me, 8 bucks for a cheesey head cap. Wicked. But in I went. And it was the best $8 I have ever spent.

We're going back on Sunday. Please join us :)

To Market, To Market

So we've all been to a local market. We have all seen how strange and wonderful cultures spruce up our local fruits and vegetables with their own. And maybe you've even ventured to Chinatown to see an authentic market, laden with their own product, void of any boring old peppers and apples. Or you've been to the Hamilton Market downtown, and have seen the vast expanses of cheese (mmm...Sam's Meat and Cheese...god, the cheese here is so gross), pork (mmm...bacon....pork here is a bit different too. What I wouldn't give for a pound [yes, pound] of bacon right now), and fish. But note one thing: the place is either quite cool to preserve the veg, or the animal product is safely a) behind glass or b) on ice or c) in a cooler. As Paul the Cheft told me from Papagayo, always smell fish before buying it, so I'm open to touching and smelling, but this local Korean market was something else, my fine-feathered friends. I couldn't help but applying the Health Canada logo, in hopes that perhaps I will always remember from whence I came and not to buy possibly rancid pork from the market. Mmmm....rancid pork.


The place is really magical. It is as hot as the day is long, riddled with human beings, and full of the most unique product I've ever seen in one place. And though I didn't experiment a LOT with food before leaving (this is a funny point: Laura would laugh and say I was conservative, dad, after eating my signature stirfry, would say I was a radical cook), I do know my fair share about where food comes from, what it is good for, and how to cook it. I know what things are called and really am not shocked when faced with many a new foodstuff.
With that being said, however, I was not prepared for the plethora of seafood that welcomed me there. In North America, I've been spoiled with fish preparation, only having prepped calamari once from scratch (those octopi are pretty, pretty disgusting, friends). I mean, we buy fillets of "white fish" and just accept that this is good. Here though, it is customary to buy the whole fish and debone, skin, and fillet (am I spelling that right?) it yourself at home. And I'm not into that...plus, I wouldn't want to do it wrong.


So the grossest thing was this sea creature...it was about 8 inches long, about the width of rolled out gnocchi before you cut it into dumplings, and had a hole at one end that I recognized from biology class. It is the only hole on the creature...coming and going out the same place. That alone is enough to send me to the hills. So anyway, this thing swims around like a jellyfish almost, propelling itself sideways, moving this uni-hole forward. There are literally about 50 of them, all fighting for something, in a bucket about the size of a large salad bowl. All this happens in about one or two seconds...and I actually had to jump back from replusion at this collection of sea creatures. We took this parasitology class and it looked just like the magnified parasite that causes traveller's diarrhea. Can this GET any worse? I wasn't sticking around to find out.


So then I stumble upon the VAT of meat. I can't be sure if it was beef or pork. It was bloody like red meat, but for the most part, the market seemed to specialize in pig product. Now THIS was a large vat: a red shallow-ish dish that held what I can only guess was about a quarter of a pig. Sure, it was held up off the GROUND, but it was repulsive. I mean, someone call Health Canada. Please. They had plenty of pork product behind glass, in coolers, totally sanitary, but for some reason, these two vendors had these huge containers out in the open, reeking of raw meat. That smell is great when you first buy it, refridgerate it, and want to cook it...but hanging out in the open like that? I almost jumped away from this too. I must say though, the vendors are so loving (strange word, I know) with their product. They gingerly swat away flies such that none actually land on the food (including, thankfully, the Exposed Pork). And no, I didn't take a picture of that. Whoever thought to put that out would certainly not appreciate a photograph of his handywork, thinks I.




Perhaps the most shocking thing of the whole experience was the alleyway of restaurants. Since my mother always told me never to travel down alleys, I was hesitant. But hey, she's far away...I thought I'd risk it :)

On either side of this narrow passageway (not pictured), women sat in small rooms (about 200 square feet, but they were two floors) and prepared food. For the most part, they prepped Korean sausage, which is quite possibly the grossest looking thing ever (imagine what this lookslike before it's cut? I'm shuddering).

They stirfry the pork with cabbage and some greens, and serve customers at tables close to the floor. Patrons leave their shoes at the door. In total, each tiny restaurant could fit about ten to twelve people, but it would be more crowded than Nonna's at Christmas. But it is the sheer number of these restaurants neatly arranged one after the other from the centre of the market out to the street, down this teeny tiny alley.

I didn't buy anything at the market for fear of death, nor did I sit myself down in one of the Alley Eateries. I was much too clausterphobic for that. Perhaps in month two in Asia, I will take my chances and buy some hot meat. Then I had a thought: where in the world do I think the local restaurants buy THEIR pork products? Mmmm...rancid meat.

Library Bound

In what turned out to be a feeble attempt to find the local library, we stumbled upon a little treasure not too far from our apartment: Samduk Park. I had been to about three bookstores in the area, desperate to find something to read aside from the two measley books I had packed. Whoever said not to pack books because they were too heavy was clearly not a scholar. Nothing fills a hot day better than a good book. The stores here have a small selection of mainly classics (think: East of Eden and Little Women), but the prices are atrocious (about $20 for a softcover novel). So I Googled like mad, attempting to find a magical place where they allow foreigners to borrow books. Low and behold, I found it. The map seemed quite self-explanatory: start near Anyang Station and go east...you should hit it. By the way, here's Anyang Station, my local and nearest subway station:

It's huge. You may be able to see Krispy Kreme on the right side of the photo: they LOVE doughnuts here. I mean, they take BOXES home with them. I haven't seen a BOX of doughnuts since, like, elementary school. I didn't know people actually ATE that many of them at a time. To get into the trains, you go in the main, lit up area, and up the stairs to the left of the picture. That glassed-in portion is soooo hot, it is a miracle more people don't pass out there. Inside the station, a woman sells bunnies after about 11 pm. I'm not sure why...or for that matter, who would buy a rabbit from a squatting woman in a subway station, but hey, this is Asia...anything is possible. There are men wearing white sashes who speak perfect English and help you with your journey and ticket-buying. My challenge each time is to pick my destination in Korean, instead of resorting back to old English. The trains depart in one of four directions from here, all at the back of the station. It's best to know a bit of the Korean alphabet, I've found, to accurately decipher the signage. I haven't been lost yet, but I do look like quite the tool when I'm staring at my Korean-only subway map (again, I'm being stubborn, but I think I'm forced to learn this way).

So we stumble upon this park and I'm thrilled. It is right on the Anyang River (more of a stream when compared to the Han River in Seoul) and is full of older people and children. There is a water park, artfully arranged pathways winding around manicured lawns, nurtured birch trees, and hundreds of dogwood bushes (I heart dogwood: reminds me of Duke Street). Again, pictures don't really do it justice, but here is one of me (this shirt is getting a lot of play on my blog...note that Leanne was sporting her blue one on a previous entry) in front of a mountain (how majestic) and with the park on my left. The river is below me, and to my right, a collection of homes, restaurants, and bars.

Anyang is the Art City (city of art?), and I've noticed that they tend to decorate outdoor spaces quite nicely. Even sidewalks here are more cobblestone than cement: not entirely practical for the thousands of ladies clad in sky-high heels, but it sure does look nice. Here, in a small pool for children (not full in this pic), some outdoor art for kids to play on and around. Why didn't we think of this?
That little guy is actually DRINKING the pool water. How cute is that? I don't know if they have deer here, but the little nearly goat-looking deer creatures remind me of the Camp.

We never did find the library.

Dragonflies Abound

Since I don't have the internet IN my apartment yet, I pick up a wireless signal down the hallway. Here, at the front of my building, I face the busy street. The vista is really beautiful: neon blinking, people crossing, cars whizzing by. It is the concrete jungle in which I have always wanted to live. Except of course, in the background, the majestic mountains stand proud.
One night I was out in my hallway office, looking out onto the city, as dusk was approaching. And then the dragonflies started. At first, it was only a few, but before too long, the sky was dotted with these beauties, darting down and across, barely missing the window as I marvelled. They are blue and green like they are back home, but most of the dragonflies here are red and orange. My picture looked like a strange haze had covered the lens...but these were the flies. It was quite a sight.

Post Secret

Every Sunday, PostSecret blogs a scanned collection of postcards they have received in the mail. They call it, "a community art project" and is really just handwritten confessions...good, bad, or otherwise. I agree that most of the time it is easier to write down what you are dying to say, rather than having to say it outloud.
I saw a good one that rang true for me the other day..."The more I look back on my life, the more I see miracles."
Give it a look. The ugly ones are really ugly, but the lovely ones make it worthwhile. Sometimes they take the words right out of your heart (since we aren't talking aloud). It's uncanny to see all those written words that you always wanted to say.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com

Club Psycho

Last Friday night Matt and I ventured out to our Local Foreigner Bar. Dan had told us about Club Psycho, and it was casually mentioned about ten times while we were at Mudfest, so we headed out, knowing it was going to be juuuust fine. On our way to the bar, Matt and I doned sunglasses and a huge umbrella, hoping to stave off the attention we've been getting throughout the days. Honestly, if you blatently stand out, they don't look at you at all. If you are just walking for a coffee, they can't get enough. Confusing. I particularily love the man BEHIND us, getting his five seconds of fame.

The outside of the bar reminds me a lot of home...the ceiling was low heading downstairs (most bars are in the basement here. I'll have to find out why), but once we got inside the dingy little place, I could see why people came here. Friday is Open Mike Night and the bands were all getting ready to go on. It had a great vibe, foreigners dominated the place, and the Koreans who ran it were all very proficient in English and welcomed us wholeheartedly.

Couches dot one wall, vinyl chairs are scattered throughout, and this is a picture of my first beer. Only beer, as it turns out, since we were turned onto soju cocktail. Okay, I should backtrack a little bit...and tell you that I don't particularily LIKE soju (that would be like saying you like the taste of Tylenol or your Ventolin inhaler), but it does do the trick for a teeny tiny price. So I have indulged on a few occasions, and though drinking it straight is not an option (and most people agree with me on that), it does make a delightful little cocktail. This particular blend was instant powered lemonade, Pepsi, and soju. Fine...I'll try it. It was delicious (as it turns out, a little too delicious).

The interior is painted black and people have taken the liberty to write greetings, poetry, and other random comments all over the place. As the lights dim and the strobe lights start up (seriously), it becomes even more apparent that the writing is on the wall. I tried so hard to get a good pic of "Do you like MUSTARD?" for my dad, but the lighting was poor and it wouldn't expose properly. I'm sure you get the picture though. One particular poem was a little strange though...on the way to the loo, someone has recounted a little diddy about a sailor who perils on his way home from sea. It was rather sad, but almost fitting. The restroom provides no rest at all. It is a co-ed room, one stall (too small to actually be called a stall) and one urinal. The smell is intoxicating in all the wrong ways. This is one bathroom where you actually don't flush the toilet paper, just throw it in the bin located alongside the loo. There are actually TONGS hanging on the side of the bin. Whoever does THAT job deserves a raise. Immediately. So by about 11 pm, the smell in there is so bad, I considered doing one of two things: going home or stopping drinking. Of course, I stayed, and the soju cocktail kept magically appearing in my cup, so the visits to the now charming toilet, became more frequent. This is NOT the place you want to be sick. I'm gagging at the thought.

This is the gent who owns the place. His shirt is a riot: it says, "I'll not live like you" and the kid on the shirt is giving the Jack-Berger-double-middle-finger-up move. Priceless.

So Open Mike turned out to be hysterical. People who had no business singing up there (think: me, singing) were up there, just givin' er. Strange. But hey, if you know how to play a chord, you probably can sing too, non? Eye roll. One Koran man sat with his guitar and sang, "Stand by Me". It was so nice. His voice was apparently pretty bad, but I'm tone deaf, and thought it was beautiful.

The night ended right: we headed to the Turkish Kebab place and then to norebang. Norebang is kareoke in your own little room. It is among the scariest, freakiest things I have done here. It reminded me of a Clockwork Orange...the hall ways, the freaky rose patterned wallpaper, the men in shiny suits showing you "to your room". I sang, "Hotel California" from memory and then got the hell out of dodge. I might feel better if I was surrounded by those I love, but these were relative strangers and Matt had slipped out without my noticing. Texan wandering the Anyang city streets...oh dear. It was time to hit the hay.

Frisbee Mondays

Hi Sportsfans. Your favourite blogger has become an ultimate frisbeer. Ha...beer. How synonymous with Korea. I'll start from my last post...Leanne has kindly reminded me that it has been a whopping 10 days since my last one. I'm really sorry to have kept you waiting. Seriously, I hate it when my bloggers don't post for days on end.
Monday after Mudfest, when we were all still feeling like crud, we went to Pyeonchung Elementary School to play a little Ultimate Frisbee. Since I'm new to the whole world of organized sports, I thought I could safely wear my Birkenstocks to this friendly game of toss the old plastic disc. I took the subway all the way down to the transfer station, transferred subways, and ended up at Bumgae Station. The whole trip (including the half hour walk I then embarked on) took nearly an hour. Gulp. Does EVERYTHING take an hour to do here? Turns out that no, I just took the loooong way.
So I get to the testosterone, oops, I mean Frisbee field. And the men have been at it for a few minutes already. Hmmm...I wonder how I'm going to fit into this. They "let me play" though, happy to have someone new on the team (I'm making that up...I think they were just entertained by a female on the field). So Ultimate Frisbee is a little different than your run-of-the-mill frisbee toss at the Elora Gorge. In this game, you toss the disc, while standing still, to a team mate. The goal is to, essentially, get a touchdown (thank you Paul Renzella...he taught me what little I know about football about 15 years ago on Sundays in his basement...wow, hadn't thought of THAT in an eon) in your "endzone". I think the endzones change everytime though. As in, once one team scores at one end, the other team must score (or that same team, if they get two points in a row) at the opposite end. As you can probably sense, I was getting a little flustered with a few things: the rules (like, can't we all just toss the disc?), the rain (which never ceases around here), the sweating (which we were all doing almost as excessively as the rain was pelting us...ACID rain, might I add), and the competition (can't we just get along and let me have a touchdown? I mean, calm down and I can just win...isn't that what they let only children do?). But it was fun, nonetheless. We played for about an hour, or until it got dark here, which is at around 8.
We walked to the IGA (like the one we used to have in Caledonia!) and bought...you guessed it, beer. The neat thing about this IGA though is that there are tables outside that you can sit at, drink your beer, and talk about life in Korea with your teammates. It was very nice. And when you've had enough, the cab ride home is only about $3. Niiiiice.
So yes, that picture above is a replica of one of my poses at the last game. That guy was a professional player getting some pointers from me at our game. Whoever he is (I get no credit for my mad skills), you are welcome. Sheesh.
See you next time, gamers. And as I told Joelle just recently, don't hate the player, hate the game. That's all the "game" references I have.
Oh, we play every Monday night at 7 pm. If you want to come out :)

Mudfest Weekend

I heard about Mudfest prior to getting to Korea and was looking forward to it for awhile now. Sounds a bit strange, right? Mud? Festival? Well it was just as you imagine it would be, except with better food and a lot more ocean.

Thursday night a new foreigner moved into my building (seems strange still to refer to myself as a "foreigner" being that I've been a native my whole life, but I digress). His name is Matt and he's a Texan. Believe me, he's NOT American...he's from Texas. I love those crazy Texans. Remember our Texas trip, Lan? What a riot. So we had to celebrate his first real day here, so on Friday night we went back to my place and drank quite a bit of soju, wine, and beer. We chatted about what brought us here and what should probably keep us here :) But bedtime came early, for Mudfest was in the morning.

Saturday morning did not start out nicely for me. I was hungover and tired and really could not imagine sitting on a bus for three whopping (W-A-R-P...whop) hours. But I dragged my sorry self to the laundry room so I could wash the sheets (when you only have one set and no dryer, you have to ensure you are away for a night to wash them). I got ready, packed, and ensured Matt was also ready (guy isn't yet used to Asian time and had been up since 5 am. Booze? What booze...kids!). We headed out a little late and wound up at Starbucks at 9:10 to meet Dan. Consequently, he wasn't there. McDonalds followed (perfect food at this moment) and we headed to the bus. WAIT! Where is the bus? Where the HECK is the bus (you can imagine other four-letter expletives were used instead, but hey! this is a public site)? We MISSED the bus?!

Not quite...but nearly. They held off until about 9:35 and that's pretty much when we boarded. I was reminded of Europe, of Alicia and I nearly missing the bus daily, and of my father, warning me he'd leave me there, "I swear to God, Bergamo, one more late morning and we are out of here without you." And we were off!

More conversations on the bus about what brought us here, what is liable to keep us here, and where to eat when you are craving this, that and the other, followed. It was nice to see these western friends again...nice to meet new ones too. I didn't bring anything to drink on the bus, save coffee and water, since, as one westerner said, "I hadn't been in Korea long enough". By the time the rest stop came around, everyone had alcoholically induced full bladders.

Arrival in Daechon was bittersweet. It was rainy and sort of dreary outside, but still, you could see the utter festive-ness of this place. It reminded me of the first weekend of the CNE (I have NEVER been to the CNE...how embarassing, right?) or Thursday night on Caledonia Fair weekend (ok, THAT I've been to). It was very magical. The picture above is from Saturday night, looking at the entrance...beyond that, the beach. Very fair-ish, non?
We offloaded, ate an amazing burrito (I'm told eating those in Korea is nearly impossible...booo!), and settled into our rooms. Ha!

Rooms are called "minbaks" and are the size of a single, small hotel room back home. Here, grab a blanket and pillow (filled with cut-up straws) and sleep on the floor. Behind all these people is a nice door leading to a porch, of sorts and there is a bathroom, located to the right of the photographer. Yes, this is roughing it. What a hoot.



After sunscreen application and a quick straw hat purchase, we hit the beach. On the beach (which was heavenly, despite the crummy weather), were VATS of mud. In you go with your hands and grab a handful, rub it all over yourself and keep on keeping on. There were paintbrushes there for use as well...just painting on the mud. So after the mud application, the ocean awaited us. Jumping into the rather cool water was shocking, but feeling the mud come off and the gloriously soft skin that it left over was wonderful. More mud, more ocean...rinse and repeat.

(I know the picture is small and doesn't do the beach justice, but there must be some pixel trick I don't know about [since I'm not certain what a pixel is]).


We walked around then, I drank a plethora of beer (BEER!), and we met more people than I can recount. Highlights were the stern man in the basement of the church (where we ended up sleeping...not in the room pictured above) who said, "if anyone touches anyone else's stuff, they ain't got no momma." He didn't so much SAY it as he loudly, forceably yelled it, but you get the picture. And we played some frisbee on the beach...and we saw our fair share of skin. In Korea it is customary to be quite conservative when dressing, so when we saw bikini after bikini, we were all pretty happy :) Nothing like a little exposed skin.

After freezing in the ocean air for a few hours, I stumbled upon a sign that said "FREE...(something, I can't remember)". I was thrilled. I love free. So I went to the Free Man and asked for my Free Thing. It was soap. In exchange for filling out my name (clearly I was Joelle Cadieux for the day) and my country of origin. He told me I looked cold (duh) and said I should visit the sauna. The WHAT now? There's a SAUNA here? I'm in.


So the men and I split up, since the sauna is single-sex only, and I went up to change. Into my birthday suit. In Asia, these saunas are common, as I found out later, and it is just unacceptable to wear your bathing suit. Well okay. So here I am, nude as a new babe, walking into the unknown. The doors open, paradise awaits. I'm not kidding: this place was Eden. To the left, The Sauna (its like a 500-square foot sauna for crying out loud) and showers. In the centre, a hot pool, a sea pool (also hot), more MUD for more painting (in the nude...I feel like an artiste), a mud pool (for to rinse off the mud...can this GET any better?) and a cool pool. Every single pool and area has a description (even in Englishee!) that describes why we are plunging our bodies in this particular liquid now. It was heavenly. I mean it. I have NEVER been to such a place. I so badly wanted to take pictures of the place, but you know that's just rude (nudity factor)...so you can see the outside only.

The place was nirvana. I was in nirvana? Who knows...it was perfect. THEN I blew my hair dry. This may not seem like a big deal, but I blew up my hair dryer on my first day here and haven't made it to the store to replace it. Mainly because my hair is doing this wave-y thing that I'm really digging. So I dried my hair...and it looked so polished (note: must buy new hairdryer...MUST). And I went back, warmed up and happy, into the rain. But my spirits were sky-high...no rain was getting THIS GUY down!



We went back to change, since we were cleaner than we had ever been, and headed out to dinner with some others from the trip. Dan knew the secret here: seafood rules and cooking it yourself is the penultimate trip. Three HUGE baskets of seafood came out for us (only Dan and I ate...gorged is more like it) and we cooked it ourselves on a sunken-in grill, much like Korean Barbeque, Laur. It was SO good, even when the lights went out three times and we had to cook by candlelight. Romantic? Um, try food poisoning. So we were ultra careful. The food was amazing.


For the next few hours, we dodged the rain, went bar hopping, and wandered the streets. It was so beautiful there...the smell of the sea, the smell of freshly cooked corndogs (yes, it smells good and you know it), the sea (excuse the pun)of familiar faces. This isn't indicative of Korean life at all...one last chance at Western culture, eh?

One last swim in the ocean follwed the 2PM concert (apparently this is a band that is really popular with the teens here. I'm not even sure that they were there or that I saw them, but I told the kids that I did...crafty, I know), and then it was off to bed. Surrounded by snoring Dan and talk-in-his-sleep Matt ("MUD!"), I drifted off to sleep on the ground (literally on the ground). Morning came and here is what we looked like at the we-need-more-beer-to-help-us-feel-better-breakfast:

We caught the bus shortly after this picture was taken. Another three hours, a magnum of beer later, and we were home, exhausted, ready for the next adventure.

Week Two

I started teaching this week. I met all of the students in most of my classes and learned how the system works here. I meet with the first and second grade students (sort of our Basic and General levels back home) on a weekly and biweekly basis, respectively. My Korean co-teacher stays in the room to translate if need be. I would prefer to have enough ability to be able to go without translation, but some of the students' levels are quite low. So we talk about who I am and where I come from. Most students simply want to know if I have a boyfriend and how tall I am, but others have far more perspective and ask if I have any complexes (as in, an inferiorty complex or a complex about my face or eyes). I am amazed at the depth of some questions and wonder if this is simply a cultural difference or if these students truly stand out from the crowd.

I meet Sarah, a Korean student who has been studying English on her own for ten years. She came into the staff room and dialogued with me for a half an hour. This is truly remarkable for a self-taught individual. I tell her how impressed I am.

Then comes my cake party. Of course. To formally welcome me to the school, all the teachers in my First Grade office bring a cake in from where else than my favourite bakery, Paris Baguette (home of the Killer Croissants). The cake reminds me of home: it has white icing and chocolate sprinkles. But it is covered in almonds. That's different (like, whole almonds, not slices). So we cut 'er open and since there are no plates in the staff room, some put their cake into Dixie cups. And then they drop the hilarious bomb: they call it a cupcake. I'm laughing hysterically because it really is a cup-cake, but I think it was lost in translation (do they have cupcakes here?). I should make some cupcakes...oh wait, I don't have an oven. Never mind. Ah, the Korean cupcake.

Since they share everything in Korean cuisine, the other teachers began eating the cake with chopsticks from the platter on which the cake came. It was so much like being at home (actually AT home, not just in Canada) it really made me feel welcome. They clapped, told me I was so polite and nice (not to mention quite a looker), and we all had a very nice cupcake party.

Education Centre Extravaganza

So it is Thursday of my first week here. I have been at the school for a full day and a half when my co-teacher (from now on referred to as "My Man") tells me we are scheduled to go to a conference tomorrow night (Friday. What?) from 2:30 (sweet, we are leaving early) until 7:30 pm. I'm sorry, what was that? I don't DO conferences on Friday nights. I live in ASIA. I'm a rock star. I have to get out on the town. Sigh. Since I only know one person here, who happens to be out of town this weekend, I'm at a loss anyway. So away I go, half-heartedly. I say to My Man when we pull up to the Education Centre (could this GET any worse?) that today, today my friend, I will meet a friend.


We gather into this vast conference room (because THIS is how you want to spend your first Friday night in Asia) with about 150 other native speakers and their co-teachers and I realize that this isn't a bad place to be at all. There are beautiful people here, friends. And I am going to meet me some beautiful people.


During break time, I discover two things: I have a knack for meeting new people and Korea has this amazing prepackaged invention. It is a coffee drink that is riddled with, as dad would say, Instantine (instant coffee for those of you who don't speak Italenglish), "creamer" (which always grossed me right out), and a ton of sugar (mostly sugar, honestly). Add hot water and voila done, you have a lovely midafternoon drink. Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, I wander over to the beautiful people and start talking to them. Turns out they are nice and they remember when they were new to the country, aimlessly searching for western faces amidst a sea of easterners. Turns out everyone missed talking quickly as much as I do now. So we get to talking (quickly) and a conversation about a beach outing surfaces, followed by talk of a house party (that's funny since we all live in shoeboxes. More accurately then, a box party. I said it).

We break for dinner, and plans start to come together. Oh thank god. I thought this, my first Asian weekend, would be rather sad, laden with thoughts of wanting to go back home. As it turns out, no thoughts of that nature came into my head.


Without regaling you with all the details, I'm happy to report that this, my first weekend as an Asian resident was successful (if you can call a weekend successful).


I had Korean Barbeque in Beomgye (pronounced close enough to "bum-gay"), drank my fair share of soju, and ended up watching this guy perform on the street for about two hours in total. He was freestyling, breakdancing, and just loving life. I must say I felt a bit sad for him though: other men watching him were mocking him. I loved it though. I just wish I knew how to post a video so you could see him dance. Holy hanna. Perhaps the photo alone is hilarious evidence enough. What you really can't see (and thus, can't fully appreciate) is the bowl hair cut and the teeny tiny pony tail on the top of his head. Not so much to keep the hair out of his face (since you can still see bangs), but more so to add to the outfit. Love him.

I had heard of Anyang Art Park (or perhaps just have seen the signs pointing there) and the associated Water Park and thought, hells yeah, this is prime weather for swimming in chlorinated H2O. Right? So we headed to the Art Park. And found the Water Park. I was reminded (fondly and hysterically) of Turkey Point and Barb Marcuzzi's coolers. And, of course, of the pee bucket. Before us was not a WATER PARK, "Confed" styles (I'm rocking the Hammer lingo), but rather, a river. More accurately perhaps, a stream. How very cute. Not one woman bore her body, so my bikini remained hidden. In fact there were a TON of women dressed in high heels IN the water with their children. This is definately one for the books.

We had to have dinner then. And I drank a plethora of beer. BEER! Can you picture it? Welcome to Asia.

There goes the (Managu) Neighbourhood

To the right, a picture of my "before apartment". Don't get too depressed...it gets better.

Although I was supposed to get a week off to acclimatize to my new surroundings, I was thrust into the school on the very day after I arrived. I suppose this is a good thing (…what else would I be doing?) but I was a little freaked out. The staff room is just like any other staff room in Ontario…full of teaching paraphernalia, papers stacked sky-high, and telephones a-ringing. Ah, I was home. I really do love the school environment: little people trying to be beautiful, trying to be adults, looking like they are traipsing around in mom’s heels. I love teenagers. They are so vulnerable and wonderful. So after just a few days, since I am the only “native speaker” as they call me, in the school, I have achieved celebrity status. Hells yeah. Kids are really nice here though. Having perfected the Bergamo Stare early in my teaching career, the Koreans respond to it EXACTLY like the Canadian kids did: they’re afraid, very afraid. Honestly, food and other traditions aside that may set them apart slightly, I’m assured that all teenagers are really just the same creatures, just on different sides of the world.

On Wednesday (the day after my arrival…sadly, I’m missing Canada Day for the first time in my life), my co-teacher took me shopping for what I was missing in my apartment: sheets, a kettle, dishes, utensils. They SELL forks here, but they are hard to find. I end up with a set of two spoons and four chopsticks. I must say, I am so incredibly grateful that Laura bought those chopsticks for me while she was in Asia (where? I can’t remember). Whenever I made THE stirfry, I used them and actually got pretty good at it. Sure, they have since corrected my style, but at least I can pick food up. While we were out driving to the bank for our next stop, he HIT a woman’s arm with his CAR (clearly accidentally). And the response to this is totally priceless, “did you feel a bump?” I was like, “well, yeah, you just HIT someone.” He stopped, called out the window to ensure she was alright and when she gave him the slightest head nod, and that was it. She was juuust fine. People litter the streets here, as do randomly parked cars. You are supposed to yield to the automobiles, not like in Canada where the almighty pedestrian rules the road. You can hit cars all day long: they will still run you down if you aren’t careful.So I got my apartment all set up. The first pictures are from when I first got here, the second set (all dressed up and colourful) are after my makeover and unpacking was done. Enjoy!

This is the view as you walk into my apartment box. I said it. The wardrobe is to the right (the only closet space), my new plant is straight ahead, surrounded by the Girls, and that is my kitchen table. The window on the left has my computer in front of it, and to the left of that, my wickedly small bed. The head of the bed is along the same wall as the windows, and if you lie in it, you can see the kitchen. It's an entirely efficicent use of space, certainly hard to adjust to at first. I haven't had any crazy house parties ust yet, so I'm sure that will be the next adventure.

Welcome to O'Hare International Airport

I’ll admit that last night was more of a packing party than a restful night prior to undertaking the biggest journey of my life, but we needed that time together. I went to Shalaina’s yesterday, as reported, and surveyed the Winter Clothes situation. I think I’m in better shape than originally thought. That is, I think I have less than I thought I would. Mom should be happy about that. Oh, mega thanks to Shalaina for splurging on the adaptor for Asia. Why didn’t anyone warn me about these different plugs? We had a lovely steak lunch (niiiice) and visited for a bit before heading back, slightly tipsy, to the Grelliott’s. Alicia and Dave finally returned home from the cottage, shortly after my dad brought my grandparents by for One Last Goodbye. I love that my nonna’s top piece of advice was to, “eat well.” Sure, because what else matters, right? Joelle stayed with her sister until about 10, which was right when Alicia and I were getting home from picking up my trench coat, winter boots (duh…forget much?) and Dairy Queen (of course).

Naturally, being women, we don’t have scales in the house (hello 2000’s), so Alicia had to borrow one from Sharon. So we weighed my suitcases: a whopping 70 and 80 pounds. I called United Airlines to ask about overage fees. Turns out EACH suitcase is fined $350 if it is over 50 pounds (yikes!) or you (or dad, in my case) pay $200 for an additional piece of luggage. Holy cow. So we repacked. Thank god for those vacuum bags: great idea.

Alright, so much of nonno’s wine followed (I can’t believe I drank that) and then it was time for the relaxing bath. Don’t get too prissy on me: Alicia is a nurse after all. So I took my (possibly?) last bath while Alicia did my nails and Joelle sat, slightly uncomfortably assuredly, on the toilet. What a way to spend a Sunday night. Dad was ultra impressed. And then it was time to hit the hay. For two blessed hours.

My mom came over this morning, a little nervous I think. Who wasn’t? I said goodbye to my friends and that was very, very difficult. But hey, we survive, right? I think they’ll all be fine without me :(

Mom drives slowly. I’m not used to that. So I’m getting more and more nervous because of the impending time deadline and the fact that I don’t really know where I am, being that we took the 407 into the airport. Dad and Sandra met us at the airport, bright eyed and bushy tailed. And wouldn’t you know it? My suitcases were still too heavy. We did some intricate moving around using their scale, line growing ever longer behind us (imagine, all four of us, all struggling to make this all work…I thought one of us was just about ready to freak out). In total, I took about 160 pounds of luggage to Korea. Well yeah. I’m moving there.

So then I filled out the US customs form and failed to declare any fruits or nuts, though I was laden with mom’s artfully packed cherries and plums. What a do-do I am. So I had to go through Secondary Inspection (my parents don’t know that part yet) before I could go through Canadian Customs. I was petrified, especially when the gent officer (who was American, accent and all) told me there was a FINE. I just paid my suitcase fee on my Bank of Dad card! I couldn’t pay a fine. So I put on my best “Gee, I’m really sorry, mister” routine and the guy, disgustedly, let me go on without paying. I had to throw out what was left of the cherries, but at least I wasn’t detained. All I could recall was Laura’s terrifying ordeal at the US border when she was off to Washington to volunteer. Please don’t get detained, please don’t get detained. Luckily, crisis was averted.
Thankfully, I found a Starbucks, grabbed a coffee, and sat down to enjoy the free Wi-Fi (later note: it wasn't free, hence the late entry). Everyone is on a PED here…no one is reading anymore. I should get a book and break the trend.
The gate looks busy, people are bustling about, and I have to grab something to eat before I board. As they say, adventures abound. This is super cool.

...So the plane ride to Korea was the most extravagant ride I have ever taken. I was really impressed with the two level arrangement, selection of movies, and lovely man beside me who let me sleep on him. How sweet. I slept pretty much the whole way, only taking breaks to gorge on the amazing (I kid you not) plane food and for bathroom breaks. I tried to stretch and walk around, but I took so much Gravol, I was destined for a long nap.

I arrived in Incheon Airport around 4 pm, right on schedule. And the man who was supposed to be holding the "Alexis Bergamo" sign was literally no where to be found. For an HOUR. When I met the American military gal with the out of place enormous bossom, I was relieved. When she asked me if I was okay, I started to cry. Just a little bit, but that was a tad embarassing. I was fine, but I was scared (duh). And I was a fool to believe that I could plug into the internet to access all my emails and info, so writing down the name and number of my SCHOOL was a waste of paper. What a loser I was. A whopping hour later, the man finally showed up. And it wasn't Mr. Kim, let it be said. And he wasn't shocked about the bags. He just wanted to get me home.

Home was an hour away. In typical Alexis style, as soon as the car turned on, I was fast asleep again. When I awoke, I was surrounded by what could only be described as Carrie Bradshaw's street. GREAT! This was my neighbourhood. Well, it wasn't...we drove about another 10 minutes before pulling into my neighbourhood. It is in the city and my apartment is on the fourth floor of a 6-floor building. And on the first floor? A psychiatric clinic. I kid you not.

So Mr. Kim (at last we meet) showed me upstairs and offered to fix anything that was broken. He switched the lights and air conditioner on, and we were in business. It was strangely quiet and definately sad. I unpacked the pictures I had and put them up immediately. That and the Tofu Magnet mom thought would "brighten the place up". It certainly did. So I did some unpacking, some sorting, and got used to the facts that a) I was living in a shoebox and b) the shower sprays over the whole of the bathroom. The blinds are nice...the waredrobe is big, the kitchen is super cute...and I'm all alone in Asia. Oh my god.



I showered and got dressed, thinking I would go for dinner when, for the fifth time that day, Mr. Kim was knocking at my door. He brought me croissants. CROISSANTS! Are you kidding? Does this man read my MIND? So I tell him I love him and mow down on the food he has kindly provided. I was asleep by about 9. Oh, and I was told when I was dropped off that I was to be picked up in the morning at, get this, 7:15 by the school director. Lovely. So much for that week off.

Morning came and the view looks a lot better in the daylight. He meant 7:50, but they have trouble distinguishing between the numbers. Sigh. So I waited with Mr. Kim. At this point, he has gotten over his Korean shyness and wants to be my 60 year old boyfriend. Sigh.

It is hot and it is only 7:20. Hot, hot, hot. But a car finally pulls up and I'm off to school...