Villiage Idiot

Maybe it's hormones, maybe it's just being forced to sit still for 20 minutes, but there is something about nursing a baby that calms the spirit. When I began this post I was all ready to list the many many ways that I have appeared ridiculous to both my Korean and French neighbours, but now, having sent a slightly damp boy to his room and silenced a teething girl with milk, I am feeling better. I will focus on the cake in my cup, and not the cold dregs of congealing pre-sweetened instant coffee. I was told, upon moving to this neighbourhood, that I was lucky to have landed here. It's just like a village - everyone knows each other! In theory - this could be good, there always being someone to help you out, to give you advice etc. In practice, as I wend my usual chaotic, frazzled, disorganized way up and down the hills in my neighbourhood leaving cell phones, sand shovels and transit cards in my wake, It occurs to me that there are downsides to the visibility of village life. With my bright red stroller, my two blue-eyed babies, my uneven fashion sense, and my inability to communicate in either of the two languages spoken here - I became quickly known: "Oh - you're the Canadian" or "yes, we've heard about you." As I ran full out pushing a crying baby all the way from the subway to the school in order to catch pick-up time, at least 10 people called out encouragement as I sailed by. When, unable to use my door opener, I tore down the stairs and ran entirely around my building holding both children in my arms so I could let in a maintenance person who I wasn't expecting and whose purpose eluded me, many people bowed and said what I gather were helpful things. When my daughter threw up on me at the same time that my son peed all over his shoes and the non-absorbent ground of the local playground, I drew understanding nods from Korean and French mothers alike. So I may be developing a reputation as the village idiot, but at least they are nice to idiots here. People are always helping me strap and unstrap my baby in her carrier, they put me in taxis and give the driver instructions, they translate in stores and carry my shopping, stroller, or baby around the aisles. They invite me to their homes for coffee (not always instant) and suggest ways that I could make my life easier. So I get through the week - and then Brian is home and we can leave the village and appear ridiculous to the cityfolk.
Here we are, for example, at Gyeongbokgung (Palace). There are many palaces in Seoul; other than a couple of gates these are almost the only remainders of the layered history that preceded this current modern metropolis. Sole old Seoul. The palaces are good places to visit with children since they have wide-open courtyards, and often gardens, lawns or other green space to play in. This is one of the larger palaces and contains a folk museum and a palace museum (which we didn't visit on this occasion - but we will).
Iris, as usual, was a big hit. Here she is being surrounded by a group of tourists who found her more photo-worthy than the Queen Dowager's administrative picnic grounds or whatever. Their tour guide apologized to me since one of the ladies did stroller off with Iris, but when the group turned the corner and saw Jamie, they were at it again.
Speaking of Iris, if I am the village idiot, she is becoming the village mascot. At least three times a week I go to the Global Village Center ("life and convenience support for alien resident - Enjoy Seoul to the Full!"). There I can take cultural and language classes and learn practical information about local life. Photographers are present at all event to document the strange foreign women who know so little, and as Iris is present at all events as well - she is much photographed and appears on their web photopages frequently. Sadly she didn't have much to say for the radio interview, but the woman with the microphone held it up to her every time she gurgled. Generally the very friendly staff at the Global Center carry Iris about while I am gluing paper or learning to read, and the other day one of them sent me photos that she had taken of her time with Iris. Also here are three shots from the GVC webpages of my Hanji project, me gluing cardboard, and me receiving my own English translation of a French presentation about buses, mail, and garbage. Iris is chewing on the pen of my seatmate. In my Hanji class, the teacher spends her time either doing my project for me, carrying my baby, or practicing her English with me. None of these activities help my 8 French-speaking classmates learn the craft. In my Korean class my teacher is either dangling her earrings in front of my baby, holding my baby, or listening to my baby try to pronounce compound vowels. My 4 French-speaking classmates seem to have dropped out and we might hold the class at my teacher's house now so the baby will have more room to play.
Here is my village as seen from Montmartre (no really - I live in a French themepark). I dragged Jamie up this mountain with promises of playgrounds only to find more exercise equipment. Luckily one apparatus enabled you to hang upside down by your ankles, and Jamie found the sight of Mommy dangling arms swinging wildly as she tried to right herself very very funny (as did the four elderly Korean gentlemen, the baseball playing boy, and the small mean dog watching nearby). The middle photo is, I think, a magpie. They are large and very numerous around these parts. Two the left and right of the bird is a building project that will "achieve the connection of disconnected" green space. It will join two mountain tops. The sign is in French, English and Korean - just like the real Montmartre. The bridge is probably finished by now - they work very quickly in Korea.
Here is Brian's place of work where he goes everyday while we remain at home making fools of ourselves.
It is beside a tree, owned (and elaborately supported) by the people of Canada. It takes Brian about 50 minutes to get from home to work. The children and I can do in in an hour and a half. The staff is very very nice, and whenever I loiter about the door making a spectacle of myself, they invite me in and offer to call Brian. One of them translated by phone for me when I was locked out of my house. Sometime they send me things - like vacuums. They periodically drop by my apartment to count objects, and today they arranged for a group of 4 Korean men (two in ties, two in coveralls) to spend an hour and a half in my home flushing my toilets. Apparently they are all okay.
Ottawa (and London) residents will be pleased to see that we have a giant spider in Seoul too. Jamie was very happy that we had brought it along from our "old house in Ottawa CANADA." We have not only Maman here, but also bebe it seems. This is the Leeum Samsung museum of Art. Three buildings designed by three different architects. Here you may find the cream-of-the-crop of traditional Korean, and contemporary art as well as a children's learning space (group-bookings exclusively it seems). It used to be by appointment only, but as of a few months ago all of us may visit anytime we want. I was very happy to have found myself here in rooms full of familiar faces that neither see me, nor notice that I appear ridiculous. Though modern art is not always my cup of fur, it may well be my cup of cake.