63 Building

Looking for something closer to home, and offering one-stop fun, we went a few km down the road to Korea's golden landmark, which for about a year after it was finished (1985) was the tallest building in Asia. Technically, it has 60 storeys above ground and 3 below, which is where some of the main attractions are. For about $27 Cdn per adult (kids under 4 free), you can go to the top floor observation deck, watch an Imax movie, and visit the aquarium. Plus free parking. (We skipped the wax museum.) The top also hosts travelling art exhibitions, and thus bills itself as the world's highest art gallery. The views are pretty good in all directions, and it makes a nice complement to Namsan Tower on the other side of the river. The Han River is crossed by something like 20 (actually more) bridges, which makes for one of the major aesthetic elements in the Seoul panorama; tall buildings and craggy hills in all directions round out the picture.

The aquarium was the kids' favourite, of course. It's not as large as the one across town at COEX, but kept us busy for the better part of two hours. Zoos and aquaria in Korea, while usually not alarming, do not have the rigid "pure science" ethic that the most serious institutions abroad do. There is generally an entertainment element that doesn't have much to do with wildlife conservation. (We've also noted a tendency to amp up the visitor experience by cramming enclosures full with as many animals as will fit. No more peering hopefully for the lone specimen in the back corner, as often happens in zoos at home.) Anyway, the main tank here at 63 Building features a nearly-continuous dancing mermaid show (video below), as well as some spunky floor performers (not shown) in fairy godmother and ballgown attire, whose thespian antics were sadly on lost on us. Yet another of those occasions where it would have been nice to have had really any idea as to what was going on.

In today's final installment, you'll hear me promising Jamie ice cream if he'll let a tiny fish nibble on his finger. (This "Dr. Fish" skin reinvigoration is a big spa thing here.) He consented, briefly; unfortunately, the creatures seemed little interested in his diminutive digit. That's my finger in the shot. I got a few bites. I really wanted that ice cream.

Icheon Ceramics Village

Another in the series of day trips around Seoul. (Blogger dates an entry from when it's started, not when it's posted, which is why it looks like you're not seeing this until about five days later -- with this in mind, please scroll down to make sure you haven't missed any other new additions over the holiday season.) There are a number of smaller towns and villages just to the southeast which make up one of the historic heartlands of the Korean pottery industry. This goes back to the middle ages (in European time) and at one point Korea was second only to China in ceramics technology. There is a good, and free, introductory museum in Gwangju (not to be confused with the larger and better-known city of the same name farther south), and a number of artisans and production sites down the road in the villages around Icheon (not to be confused with Incheon, on the other side of Seoul, where the airport is, or Ichon, a neighbourhood in Seoul.)

We didn't actually see any potters or kilns in action, but looked around a bit and did some token shopping (at the generic store, nothing by a specific artisan. However, the store people did bring us little cups of tea on wooden saucers as we were looking around.) We might have stayed longer but it was starting to snow. As noted in a previous post, the return journey took 4.5 hours, though I read later in the paper that the traffic disaster that occured that afternoon was not to be considered normal or acceptable. The explanation had something to do with the fact that it started snowing a bit earlier than expected, which caused the usual response plan to collapse. (In the photo collage, you'll see someone shoveling with a large signboard -- don't forget that collages in all posts are clickable to view large versions.)

Anyway, this region is not very far away, and I'm sure we'll go back in better weather. I don't know that we really got into the thick of things on this first visit. The most famous spot, Haegang, is that of the founder of the reborn industry (like so many things here, there was a significant interruption due to the Japanese colonial period and then the Korean War), including a museum and working area. The pieces are rather pricey, but it's fun to look through the reject heap of broken shards.

Ganghwa Island

Here's another popular and very worthwhile day trip from Seoul, to Ganghwa-do (Island), at the mouth of the Han river (immediately south of the DMZ), listed as two hours away, but drivable in one. It's a decent-sized place, of which you can do a lap in one day, but to see the many attractions you need more time. It's great because it offers a "royal sampler" of Korean history and culture: pre-historic dolmens, working fishing villages, ancient Buddhist temples, and 19th-century fortifications. Although not that distant from the mainland, the island was used as a strategic retreat on a couple of occasions in the last 700 years at times of foreign invasion (a recurring theme in Korean history). Its cannon also saw action, believe it or not, against US and French vessels in the late nineteenth century. (Don't worry, I didn't know this either.) Finally, it also apparently has one of the largest tidal ranges in the world (after the Bay of Fundy), but we had to leave the Tidal Flat Centre to be explored for another time. To note, the temple shown above (Jeondeungsa), while not an enormous complex, has some fantastic decorative elements and interiors, quite the equal of what we saw in Japan. (NB. to readers that the "swastika" is very old Buddhist symbol, often used as a icon to indicate temples here.)

We had lunch in a harbourside place in one of the larger fishing villages, watching the small vehicle ferry to the outer islands load and unload. The setting was not completely unlike that on one of BC's Gulf islands (one of the regular ones, not super-fancy). The waitress promptly spirited Jamie away and sat him down by the pass-through where the kitchen staff could admire him. They plied him with a free lunch and a bottle of Coke. We repatriated him to our table before too long, but at the end of it, the staff somehow got him to bow. Did he learn this at school? We hadn't seen it before and were impressed.

Harmonious City, Happy Suwon

One of the first day trips we did outside the city was to Suwon, which is very nearby and just to the south of Seoul. It's about a million people in its own right; Korea's eighth-largest city, or so I've read. But this isn't wikipedia.

It's known for its old fortifications, designed and built in the late 18th century on "scientific" principles. The main attractions are recreations and reenactments of various events and activities, but these don't run in the winter. So our visit was mainly for reconnaisance, to go at a quieter time. In fact, we found a lot of the restaurants in town were closed on a Sunday, although the street markets were in full swing. There was a bit of snow in the air. It's a slight climb up to the old wall in places, but worth it for the view. When we go back, we'll ride the little train ("with teeth") to see more of the walls.

Korea has a fair allotment of ancient to moderately old structures, mostly dating to the Joseon era, which isn't all that specific a designation, as it covers over 500 years from 1392 to 1910. However, where structures haven't survived due to war and foreign occupation, the Korean government has been rapidly rebuilding. So at any given site, there may be some original buildings and some that have been reconstructed in the last few years. This can give a striking sameness to many of the palaces, etc, in terms of design, materials, building techniques and decoration. However, I suppose in due course these new buildings will age too, and the niceties of "authenticity" will begin to fade with time. After all, some of Canada's top historic attractions (Ste-Marie among the Hurons, Fortress of Louisbourg) are entirely modern reconstructions as well.

Would you, could you, in a car?

Not too long ago, we finally got all the paperwork, insurance, plates, etc done for our car, and have thus been able to expand our horizons within and beyond Seoul. (By "we," I mean all the work was done by very helpful co-workers.) The vehicle is a 2000 Volvo S40, perhaps the only one of its kind in Korea, for all I know. It was purchased from a departing colleague who needed to get rid of it in a hurry, and it had the overwhelming virtue of already being parked in the garage at work. (This is one of these elevator-type loading systems where you drive your car in and then it gets whisked away. Fun for Jamie to watch.) It was first used in Ankara, so all the original service records are in Turkish.

So far we have replaced the battery and the tires (while shopping at Costco... "your time is valuable"), but the rubber on the windshield wipers still flaps semi-uselessly. They stock many sizes of wiper blades in Korea, but not the special ones for Volvo. So far I am on my fourth attempt to take it into to a dealer service centre for a proper inspection. This is mainly due to my scheduling challenges, and also to my overestimation of my ability to read Korean websites. (Somehow I managed to show up at the sales centre, not at the dealer's service location, nor at the other dealer's location, where the appointment had actually been made. And even that was with help.) Most recently, when I explained that it was an older vehicle, they asked if I would be bringing in my own oil.

I have learned that you need to get a ticket when you go on the toll highway, otherwise you will be in slight trouble when you leave. But I have not yet figured out which red lights the other drivers will stop at and which ones they will consider optional. So the New Jersey driving experience has been helpful, but not sufficient. There is also a knack to reading the road signs and traffic flow patterns, as there is in any new city/country. But of course, in other places, the signs are not in Korean. I think I might have figured out "heavy congestion ahead." Interestingly, while streets do have names, they are not much used, and are only occasionally shown on maps or signs. It's all done by landmarks.

This afternoon, a combination of the season's first snow and typical Sunday night traffic hit us coming home from our outing. It had taken about 1hr 15mins to get to this area, famous for ceramic production, maybe 40 km from Seoul. The trip home, non-stop, took 4hrs 30mins: no joke. From everything we've heard, this is not that unusual. In one or two places, we had to give up and change routes because the way was blocked by stationary vehicles. On the plus side, this finally gave the car stereo enough time to give us another chance to re-enter the anti-theft code, bringing the radio back to life (after I accidentally locked it, post-battery change). There was a very interesting traffic report stating nothing more than that conditions outside the city were very bad, and inside the city it was really no better. Apparently there are some downsides to not using street names.

We also had a chance to hear (for the first time, naturally) the countdown of the top 20 "hits" of 2009 on the way home. You know you're old when... but that's another story.

De-Militarized Zone

Here are some photos from a tour I went on to the nearby and famous DMZ earlier this month. It was a pretty clear day, but a bit chilly outside. (The lone North Korean guard showed no inclination to wander down to check out yet another busload of visitors.) I liked the model of the locality in the theatre at OP Dora. You also get to go down into a rather low tunnel the North Koreans tried to dig under the line, but no photos are allowed there.

It was interesting to see how the whole set-up at the Joint Security Area was meant to be a temporary arrangement, with just the basic huts for the UN and the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission (which is now down to Sweden and Switzerland on a full-time basis, history having taken Poland and "Czechoslovakia" down a different path). Today, the Military Demarcation Line signs are rusted but other deterents are still being maintained.

Besides its notoriety as a relic of the locally-unfinished Cold War, the DMZ is famous these days for wildlife. It's true, there did seem to be plenty of birds around. Many visitors to Seoul are able to work a DMZ tour into their itinerary, and it's certainly worth a look, if you can arrange it.

String, Paper, Scissors

Before I moved to Seoul, my Korean teacher, despairing of ever teaching me the language, set about trying to convey something of Korean culture. She gave me a gift: a hanji mirror embellished with maedup knotwork and housed in a bojagi silk bag - none of which I could identify at the time. She also presented me with many many free government publications about Korean Cultural Heritage that explained the "ample reasons" why Koreans take such pride in their handicrafts. Once I moved to Seoul, my local Global Village Centre was keen to advance my education on these matters. I have since, dutifully, taken classes in gluing paper, making tiny stitches on patchwork, and tying string into knots.

I am very bad at all of these things. They all require discipline and patience - and I haven't any. On one occasion my Hanji teacher ripped apart my lamp making clucking noises with her tongue and proceeded to use my work as the demonstration piece for the class, thus ensuring that she, and not I, did all the tricky bits. My Bojagi teacher suggested once that I try to sew stitches that were "smaller, closer together, neater and ... more even," and then just confined herself to comments like "you did your homework very ..." and "maybe ironing would make it more beautiful ?" My Maedup teacher - who mostly laughed at me and admired my baby (Iris always comes along to school with me as distraction) - was amazed when after an hour of instruction I finally held up a completed knot: "Oh wow," she would say breathlessly as if I was some sort of signing chimpanzee.

Despite being very unskilled, I really enjoy Korean crafting and have been spending my idle hours at home making bojagi hangings, knotted wristbands, and wondering which articles of my government-issued furniture would look best with paper glued on them. The image above shows some of my work as well as examples of what the stuff is really supposed to look like. (also a picture of Dasik tea cakes from a class that I took Jamie to so he could see Mommy's school and press some flavored rice powder into beautiful wooden molds). Thanks to the tender tutelage of my demanding instructors, I can now identify Korean craft, and recognize its worth. With greater appreciation for these handicrafts (Important Intangible Cultural Properties), comes greater desire: now I covet. Of course I should pay a small fortune for a silk bogagi wall-hanging - look it's perfectly finished on both sides - do you know how hard it is to make it come out like that? Why wouldn't I buy that tourist souvenir with a knotted tassel (IICP#22: maedupjang) - that's a chrysanthemum knot - they are very tricky. Now if only I could find a dragonfly knot or that male butterfly one and wow - do you see that ring-knot - that one turned my finger blue when I tried it at home. But surely you see that I must have those sheets of hand-laid paper (IICP#117: hanjijang) - it's so versatile - I could make dolls or walls or floors or screens or rope, or armor!

So far I have not succumbed to the urge to make major financial investments in the Korean handicraft markets, though I did convince (amazingly by using only hand-gestures) a knot-maker in a traditional clothing market to sell me, not a finished knot, but some of her supplies so that I could keep practicing at home (but not the hand-wrapped-silk-cord dyed with only natural pigment). I may figure out the difference between the life-knot and the death-knot yet - though as it stands I can only do 3 of the 33 traditional knots that I need to know. My fine-sewing will never amount to much I fear, but at least I now have a use for the four giant bins of fabric scraps I carted over here (but oh - of course I should instead buy that naturally-dyed, hand-woven silk or that traditional ramie cloth . . . . it would make it more beautiful). As for Hanji , I am taking another class in January and will be soon gluing Korean mulberry paper (longer and stronger than Japanese mulberry paper - it ventilates well, it isolates well and finally it is sheen and translucent - it will last a thousand years) onto my very own Tea Table or Little Chest of Drawers. Now, if only I could apply the "neatly and more even" principle to the rest of my life: today crafting - tomorrow the world!

Pali-Pali

Pali-Pali (quick-quick), is an expression used to convey the rapidly changing, fast pace of life, particularly for the company man, here in Korea. Same holds for the expat mom I guess. Today is the first day in over a month that I have nothing planned, and only one child to tend to. No parties, lunches, classes, school closures, sick babies, hospital visits, household maintenance workers, play-dates, haircuts, shopping excursions etc. So other than periodically stopping to fish something out of Iris' mouth, or fish Iris out of the wet shower stall, or maybe bake some fish, I have time (knock wood) to blog. But it will have to be quick-quick, so bear with me.
At the end of October we went to Japan for a short visit. Here are some photos (out of order as usual - thanks Blogger frustrating image interface)
Here we are in Nara, just outside Kyoto. Nara is known for beautiful shrines and temples, local hand crafts, and free-roaming sacred deer. Old ladies sell cookies especially to feed deer (although I saw many young school boys daring each other to eat them as a joke). We bought some, and consequently were rushed by these very eager messengers-of-the-gods, intent on eating, not only our senbei cookies, but also our paper bags, picnic lunch, back-pack straps, and the dangling toes of our baby. Don't know what they told the gods about us, but we had a few choice words about them.

Here is Kasuga Grand Shrine, a Shinto shrine with over 3000 bronze and stone lanterns (we just missed the August festival where they were all lit at once). Our guidebook kept describing everything in the region as "atmospheric," but indeed the wooded paths surrounding the shrine lined with stone lanterns were compelling.

Here we are in Tokyo with our friends Tomomi, Mike and Takashi. We visited palace gardens, historic neighbourhoods, temples, aquariums, and shopping streets. We ate at many izakaya, took a boat trip, and learned how to use the trains. Best of all though was the chance to visit with our friends and see Jamie and Takashi running and playing together.

Oh look, here is Fushimi Inari shrine, where my father's house is, in Kyoto. Another "atmospheric," "evocative" and "magical" place. The paths though the bamboo forest are lined with 10,000 torii and as the light changes and the gates and paths glow orange, you feel a long way from Pali-Pali urban Seoul.

Here we are in and around Kyoto. We visited temples (many) and a palace, and gardens and neighbourhoods known for sights or shops or history. We visited family and friends of family. We took trains and taxis. I think it rained. Travelling with two tiny kids leaves little time for travelogues, and coming back to photos after 6+ weeks - well y'know. I really like Kyoto, everything is beautiful there - perfectly composed spaces, very picturesque - lovely food, tidy wrappings, efficient transportation. We will go back in a time with longer daylight, and have a more organized itinerary - it's only a few hours away after all.

Oops - back to Nara. Nara is home to Todaiji Temple. It houses the great Buddha statue, standing 30 metres tall and boasting other impressive stats like the fact that his hair is composed of 966 bronze balls. At the top of the photo you can see Jamie crawling through a pillar. The hole in the pillar is the size of the Buddha's nostril, and if you can fit through it you are guaranteed a place in heaven, or enlightenment, or something. There was a very long line of children waiting for their turn to crawl thorough the nostril. Some of the bigger ones had their friends yanking them though, but tiny Jamie was a shoo-in. The red-aproned fellow is Pindola, a wooden statue so well-worn because he is believed to heal pains if rubbed on the corresponding part of his body.

Here we are in and around Nara. It was very nice to have some family time since everyone has been and still is so busy. Pali-Pali doesn't do much for domestic bliss. But on this day the weather was fine, the leaves were changing, and we were all relaxed, well as relaxed as you can be if one of you is practically three-years-old.

This is the house, and its environs, to which I was carried as a newborn babe. There are only a few homes on the mountain of Fushimi Inari, and most, as you see, have been abandoned and are falling down. It's nice that my children had a chance to see the house while it is still occupied, and remains intact. Although life moves slower in a forested mountain shrine, time and change are unrelenting.

And, in November, we were back in Seoul. Here is sweet Iris. She had a fever last week-end. In Canada we learned that the eternal ER waits with fevered babies were not really designed to improve matters, so we dosed her with Tylenol and waited it out. She was still pretty sad on Wednesday, so we braved the Korean-language-barrier and took her to the International Clinic at our local hospital. There was much going back and around and through from interpreter to cashier to doctor to cashier to lab to interpreter to doctor to cashier to pharmacy to interpreter etc. We declined a chest x-ray and a "liquid therapy" IV drip, and waited through three applications of sterile bags and five hours before we had an acceptable sample for further tests. We were given much powdered medicine in tiny serving-sized plastic bags (bottom left) and told to return in two days. Friday we were back and a similar series of stops and starts revealed that Iris had an infection. We declined four days of hospitalization and more IV and instead we were given different medicine (top left) and told to return in a week for a sonogram. What have we learned? Very little. Iris is fine now, though finishing her course of antibiotics which means I have to mix various liquids and powders at each mealtime making me feel a bit like medieval apothecary. Korean hospitals are very orderly and thorough, with enough machines and tests and medicines to make my socialized-medicine-based-heart weep. We can't just randomly say no to half of their suggestions on principle, but translation is only offered in general terms "it is considered helpful," "some think it is needful," and doctors here aren't used to having to explain themselves least of all in another language. I'm sure on this occasion everything will be fine, and we will continue to explore our medical options. They love hospital stays here, so we are are spoilt for choice I guess.

Hey remember that bridge on Montmartre that they were building in September (photo top left)? Well here it is all done (Pali-Pali). It is supposed to look like a silk worm. There was an opening ceremony for which they repainted all the lamp-posts copper, but Jamie didn't want to climb the mountain. We can now walk very far from mountain-top to mountain-top enjoying local scenery. Provided, of course, that we don't bring a stroller and our three-year-old (who hates Pali-Pali when it involves walking) doesn't ever see a dog.

Here are some funny signs and photos of Insadong and Namdaemun markets. We aren't getting out and about nearly enough these days - but luckily three years offers much scope for exploration. We have taken possession of our car. We have mostly been stuck in traffic, lost in expensive parking garages, and searching for parts (so far it needs new wipers and a new battery), so it hasn't been the greatest boon, but we have faith that it will help with Pali-Pali somehow.

So that about wraps up the fall. There were persimmon trees (persimmons have found their way into curry, vegetable feta pasta, banana bread, mulled wine and baby food here at the homestead); there were woven tree-warmers; there were trips to the playground and endless walks up and down hill to school. We had our first snowfall on the weekend; the ondol-heated floors are warming our toes, and the weather is turning frosty. The Christmas trees are up, so here's hoping that things will slow down a little over the holiday season. Until then, think Pali-Pali (빨리빨리) and get a move on!