Vacation in Korea

Simona & I in front of Korea`s biggest Buddha. You can`t see them, but there are two old Korean ladies killing themselves laughing at us...

As my high school years drew to a close, I looked forward to moving out of the house. Of having my own apartment. I often thought about how liberating it would be to walk into my apartment and throw the keys on my kitchen table. Of plopping down on my couch to read a book in absolute silence. With this in mind, I held two jobs for the last few months of high school- determined to have this dream happen as quickly as possible. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday & Saturday I worked nights as Head Hostess at Red Lobster (referred to from now on as the Lobster Pit). On Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday (morning) and Sunday, I worked at IMAX- scooping popcorn and ripping tickets. Weekdays, of course, I was at school- mostly sitting in the testing center catching up on a year's worth of exams that I'd left to the last minute. For most of April, May and June I was probably in there four or five hours a day. At night after work, I'd come home and hammer ou t any papers that I had left to the last minute. Somehow this ridiculous system worked out and I graduated high school- miracle of miracles. In August, days after my eighteenth birthday, Alex and I moved into our first apartment together. I kept up the two jobs- giving IMAX all my days, and the Lobster Pit all my nights. This lasted until October when I finally snapped. I quit the Lobster Pit and decided to stick to one job. Until HMV called me up and offere d me a Christmas position, with the promise of 50% off CDs... but that's different. Over the next few years, I often found myself with multiple jobs and I came to enjoy the chaos of multi-tasking. For those who haven't lived in Calgary, I should perhaps explain the phenomenon of employment there. One morning I woke up and thought- hmmm... I think today I'll find a new job. On a whim, I head to my folder full of cv's, and head downtown. I pass out about twenty resumes to random stores and restaurants before I get bored. I go to work at IMAX. Later that night when I arrive home, I play my voice mail messages and scrawl down the names of fifteen places that would like to interview me. I go down the list and decide which places I'll call back and which I was just playing around by dropping off a resume. Like the tanning salon I once applied at. They were ready to hire me too, until I admitted that I wouldn't fake & bake even if it was free. Finally I would accept a job and keep it for a short time, when inevitably something better would come along. Before I moved to Montreal, I decided to maximize my time by working at IMAX, La Vie en Rose and Moxie's restaurant. I thought perhaps the different jobs would keep me sane. The phone continued to ring with job offers, one restaurant offered to hire me just to work on my lunch hour from the lingerie store. Last year, I accidently stuck myself with tw o jobs and promised myself that I'll never do it again. As the Hyatt prepared for a strike, I quickly covered my ass by picking up a job at a restaurant, just in case. When the hotel didn't strike, I found myself with two jobs- one that promised me hours at low pay, and one that promised me high pay, but no hours. The days that I had to work both jobs nearly killed me. I will never do it again.

Me & Simona get closer for a better look. Song says we`re crazy. Seoraksan National Park

I asked my kids to draw a picture of their fathers a couple of weeks ago. One little girl drew her dad in front of his bed, with a cell phone in his hand and a briefcase in the other. She told me she never sees her dad, he's always at work. Korea has only recently reduced it's work week to five days, and the truth is that it's only been reduced on paper. In practice, many Koreans still work six days a week. Song rolls out of bed at 5am, to arrive at her work by 8am. It's not unusual for her to be there until 10pm, sometimes even later. If this were unusual, I'd have smacked some sense into her already, but truth is that this is standard in Korea. Arriving here, I was shocked to discover that they seem to have an inexplicable ability to work stupid hours. In Canada we benefit from having government policies that allow us to have real lives. The labour board says it is illegal to work your staff the way they do here. But here, if the boss says to stay, you stay. On Tuesdays, I finish work at 4:30 and enjoy an easy ride home on the subway. It's always empty. When I finish at 6:30, the subway is crowded but not yet to capacity. At 9, the subway is packed. I overheard a foreigner asking his Korean friend why they worked so much. The Korean replied that if they ever wanted to have a stronger economy than China, this was what had to be done. The foreigner pointed out that China has a billion people to Korea's fifty million. The Korean shrugged as though it didn't matter.

Korean safety measures

It's quite easy to make Korea sound as though it's an all work and no play kind of place. But bars are always full of business men and there seems to be unending energy to douse oneself in soju at the end of a long work day. The twenty-four saunas are a testament to that. Rather than return all the way home, many will roll into a sauna for a few hours before heading back to the office. For two glorious weeks a year, Koreans enjoy their vacation time. Altogether. The last week of July, the entire country pack their bags and head to the beaches on the East Sea and Jeju Island. There is literally no visible sand on the beaches, as tents are pitched so they can enjoy the view of the sea without risking a sun tan. In anticipation of this week, I booked my vacation to Taiwan in February, as you need to if you want to be sure to have a flight out.

Chuseok traffic. Guess which way is Seoul...

Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) is a time spent with family. Not like Canadian Thanksgiving which seems mostly half-assed these days (I suppose complicated by the immensity of our country). Chuseok is a week long affair which finds most people travelling to their hometowns to spend the holidays with their families. So picture this. Fifty million Koreans having their last real break until next July. Once again, trips need to be booked and details planned out far in advance if you`re to have any hope of getting out of Seoul. For Koreans, your hometown is not necessarily the place where you or your parents grew up. It can also be the place where your ancestors are buried. Chuseok is traditionally a time to thank your ancestors for watching over you by cleaning up at the burial sites and making a offering of food. There is not necessaily a cut-off with how far back you thank your ancestors, so in traditional families it can be quite an event. More modern families take to the mountains or the beaches of Jeju Island for a more laid-back vacation.

Traditional Chuseok foods on a traditional table. Fruits, vegetables, rice cakes and dried fish.

Offering to the ancestors.

A few months ago, it occured to me that this vacation would soon be upon us and I had yet to make any plans. After some difficulty and several sets of plans later, Song and I decided to head to the Seorak mountains to go camping. Now when Canadians talk of camping, we imagine hiking up to the camp site with tents and sleeping bags, your bag stuffed with enough food to last you the duration of the trip and various gadgets to make cooking a little easier. We imagine ourselves surrounded by trees, alone in the woods with our friends and a campfire. Koreans don`t have the same love of solitude and the outdoors. So it fits that Song and I had very different ideas of camping. Simona, recently arrived in Korea, was brave enough to jump on board for this Korean camping experience. We met at 8am on Thursday morning at the bus station and settled in for a long drive. Seoraksan National Park is only some two hundred kilometers from Seoul, but with the insanity of Chuseok traffic, it took us five hours to get there. In my naivete, I thought we would get off the bus and find ourselves right in the mountains. But I was wrong. We climbed into a taxi and finally pulled into the condo where we would be 'camping' for the next three days. Song picked up the key and we took the elevator to our room. I noticed that there was a swimming pool, sauna and noraebong in the basement. Excellent. We tossed our bags down in the room, taking note of the yos (traditional Korean beds- thin mattresses) piled in the closet, revealing that we would be sleeping on the floor. Perhaps that`s why the kids call this camping...

We set off in pursuit of food. I suppose this is what you could call the 'hunting' portion of the trip. We took a taxi to Seoraksan National Park and paid for our bibimbap (rice mixed with red pepper paste, vegetables and egg), kimbob (seaweed rolls with rice, ham, crab and vegetables), and omu-rice (rice and vegetables wrapped in a fried egg). We walked around and evetually came across a cable car, which we took to the top of the mountain. The view was incredible. Just off the chalet at the top, we found a path leading up the mountain. I was excited, despite the steps and guard rails along the way that were put in place to make the trail accessible to everyone. I suppressed giggles as I passed Koreans in full hiking gear- it was after all, more of a brief walk than a hike. As the path ended I looked up. The trees had cleared and we were standing on a ridge, with rock on all sides. The streams below looked like thin lines and I contemplated the drop over the cliff. The guard rails found along the path to keep you from tripping into the forest were nowhere to be found. A small sign politely asked that you not jump. Simona and I climbed here and there amongst the rocks for a better view. I ignored the fact that the hand and foot holds had been artificially hammered into place. The view was absolutely beautiful. The clouds hung low over the mountains in the distance, and the setting sun shone through the clouds. As the sun set, we made our way back to the cable car and sought out food once again.

Just me & the mountain.

I`d like to preface this next story with a couple of short, somewhat related tales. Many months ago, on the opening night of Never Swim Alone, I was craving a patch of grass. All I wanted was to stretch out in the sun on the grass and read a book before I went onstage. So I left work quite early and headed to the theatre, determined that I would find my grass before I went on. I walked and walked. Through school yards and past government buildings. Through parks and past soccer fields. There was no grass to be found. Even the kids playing soccer had dirt under their feet. Finally in a school yard next to the soccer field, I found a small patch of grass about two feet wide. I decided it would have to do. So I lay back, trying to appreciate the grass that I had found and ignoring the sign that begged students not to sit on it. In early September, I found myself craving a beach. Being that Korea is a peninsula, you can be sure that there are beaches everywhere. I looked up the closest beach to me and discovered that it was famous for its sunsets. That was good enough for me. All I wanted was to lie on the sand with a book and my music for a few hours. I packed a bag and left at 10am on a Sunday morning, carefully following the directions obtained from the Korean Tourism site (rather than my own common sense). I spent an hour and a half on the subway and arrived in Incheon, the city next to Seoul. From the station, I took a bus to the port. I scanned the signs and found Yeongjongdo, the name of the island that I was heading to. The sign was entirely in Korean, but the name of the island was there, so I paid my 14,000 won and boarded the ship. Half an hour later, I wondered why we had not yet arrived. The ferry was supposed to take only twenty minutes. The island came into view and we saw it, turned around, and went right back to the dock. I got off and starred at the booth from which I had bought the ticket. Then at the booth next to it, which also had the name of the destined island. I paid 4,000 won and boarded the ferry. Twenty minutes later, I set foot on Yeongjongdo Island. My trusty directions told me to find the bus terminal and take the bus to Eurwangni Beach. I stood at the station contemplating the map, trying to figure out where it was and what bus would take me there. An American girl, headed for the same beach, confirmed what bus and we sat and waited. And waited. The bus finally came an hour later. We boarded the bus and she consulted her Lonely Planet. The bus ride should take twenty minutes. An hour later we became concerned that we`d missed the stop. We passed the airport. Finally after an hour and a half on the bus, we arrived at the beach. The tide was low, and there was no sand. Just mud. Fish heads stuck up through the mud and we watching the fully clothed Koreans frolicking in the mud with some skepticism. After a six hour journey, the mud beach was quite a dissapointment. But we went swimming nonetheless, had dinner and I called a taxi to take me to the airport. I was fed up. This was the last straw. No, in fact I realized when we passed the airport that a brief trip out on the airport express bus would have had me at the beach in half an hour. Sure enough, I got home some five and a half hours before I would have taking the suggested route.

So the next morning, we awoke and flipped through our Seoraksan tourist guides. We decided on a hike that would take us first past some hot springs, then to some waterfalls. It was a relatively short hike, the 3km could be expected to take us about three hours, but I was excited to put time in at both the hot springs and the swimming hole at the base of the waterfall. We hopped on the bus and took it to our starting point. The hike began along a river bed, and I wondered why the water was so low. We walked along the river for most of the hike, along with a long line of Koreans headed for the same place. The trail confused me. It appeared that we were walking where there should have been water. The stagnant pools of water here and there looked as though they were aching to move, but they lacked a current. We kept walking. The trail went into the woods and I was momentarily excited- perhaps it was about to become a real hike. But the sandbag steps proved otherwise. We made it to a mountain temple and enjoyed some spring water from the fountain and took in the smell of incense before moving on. Footholds on big rocks along the way continued to annoy me a little, but I tried simply to take the unaltered route when confronted with these aids. I bypassed the log bridges in favour of jumping from rock to rock in the stream. I began to suspect that our waterfall would not be all we hoped for. There was little water in the river. Finally we rounded a corner and Simona and I stopped short. Seriously? Could this be it? In front of us stood a steep drop off with a drizzling of water falling over it. The same effect can be achieved at home, in fact. Take a simple watering can, or a bottle of water and pour it over your balcony. There you have it. A waterfall. As we contemplated the shape of the rocks and the river bed, it seemed to us that the river had probably been damned up further upstream to allow for the walking path. I tried (unsuccessfully) to suppress my frustration and disapointment. It`s very nice that there have been efforts made to make the mountains accessible to everyone, but at what cost? Broken bridges and discarded safety railings scattered about the trail to the waterfall somehow wrecked the illusion of being alone with nature. Although I guess the long line of us walking along the trail didn`t help that either. I have to remind myself that it`s hard to wow Canadians when it comes to nature. Growing up next to the Rockies has spoiled me, it seems.

The waterfall

We boarded the bus back to Sokcho city and, though we were too late to take in the sun on the beach, still went down and played in the water. The tide was high and the waves of the East Sea crashed high on the sand. A couple hundred people stood on the beach, setting off fireworks and racing each other through the waves. Song, Simona and I were completely drenched, and seemed to be quite amusing to the group of middle-aged Korean men watching this display of sillyness. We made our way back to the condo and prepared to leave the next morning.

Song and Simona head for the tent after a long drive...

As the end of my contract approaches, I seem to feel differently about it every day. Two weeks ago, I was thrilled to soon be on my way back home. Last week I was terrified, confronted with the question of what I`ll do when I arrive home is a frightening thought. This week I`m mostly sad. I`ve had alot of frustrations here, but I`ve also come to consider this home. I`ve become accustomed to encountering unique situations every day, challenging myself to learn more about the Korean culture and language. Forcing me to reflect more and more on my own country, my language and my views. I`ll miss my kids. I`ll miss Song. Some days I`ll be relieved not to stared at in the streets, but some days I`ll miss it. I wonder how many stories have been told about me around Korean dinner tables. There`s at least one for every day I`ve been here. Tales of the local blonde that I`ll never hear. Soon my life will return to normal- whatever that means- and I`ll be faced with life. The last year has been a break from life. At least life in Canada. Everything at home is on pause for awhile until I decide that it`s time to come back- and it keeps getting closer and closer...

Song & Simona drenched at Sokcho Beach