Boran

I took a Sunday ride on my scooter, anxious for some mild adventure, reminiscent of the times I struck out on unknown back roads when I lived in Gapyeong.  A road out of town turned into a highway, uncrowded this weekend before Chuseok.  The signs told me I was headed to Cheonan, but since I wasn't so adventurous to drive the 32 kilometers to get there, after a while, I sought an exit or turn-around to go home.  Upon finding one, I thought instead to take the village road before me and explore some more.  After all, the great adventures come when you alter or scrap your original plans, right?

Small houses and schools and shops lined the narrow road that wound through this rural place.  I could spot no signs identifying where I was as I drove at a leisurely pace, still encountering little traffic and few people.  I felt no danger, but as so often happens in this country, I felt like I was intruding or venturing into a forbidden place.  What Koreans I did encounter stared, of course, but only out of harmless curiosity.  Often I thought to turn back, but I couldn't answer the "Why?" that came into my head next, so I kept driving.

Almost time to harvest

Rice fields appeared and buildings became fewer and fewer as the road further narrowed and followed a small river. I drove up as the river ran down, and I noticed the grains on the rice stalks turning from green to yellow and growing heavy.  In some place, random swaths of stalks had fallen, indicating it must be close to harvesting time.  The fallen stalks used to appear man-caused to my inexperienced eye, but it's so haphazard and common, I guess it must be natural.

As the road switched back and forth over the river on narrow, precarious bridges with mere three inch barriers on the sides, I wondered if I'd be able to find my way out of this Greek maze.  Too bad I forgot my yarn.  Parts of me hoped I'd get lost or that my scooter would break down and that I'd be forced to stumble through my broken Korean and ask for some help.  Better than changing your plans, the real great adventures come when your plans fail and you get in trouble, I say.  As long as you come out alive and with your important body parts intact, you get to tell the best stories later.

A place to stop and write

Still driving up and wondering if I'd ever reach a dead end, the river returned to a stream returned to a brook, but the road continued, and so did I.  Since the weather was so pleasant, and I'd brought my writing book, I thought about stopping to write at one of the elevated communal platforms I passed that are common in the country.  They provide shade and a common gathering place on hot summer evenings for adults to talk and gossip.  I worried though that would constitute trespassing, so it wasn't until I spied a granite picnic table beneath a tree that I finally stopped to write.

A dozen Koreans have walked or driven by in the last half hour.  As often as white foreigners like me stand out and draw attention here, they're also ignored.  I am completely convinced after spending several years in this country, that I have the power of invisibility at certain times, but I am not unique.  There is something in the Korean culture that can make Koreans blind to people and things that are different.  Whether it's because they're uncomfortable or just unaware, there are times you can float through this place unseen.  It's a wild thing to experience.

If I get lost going home, I hope they see me.

After arriving safely home

Right before I got back on the highway, I was still burning to know where I was.  I passed a gang of six elderly Koreans chatting with one another on a raised communal platform, like the one in the picture.  I screwed up my courage and turned around to ask them the name of the village.  Whereas you can usually count on Koreans my age and younger to know a little English, these seniors likely wouldn't have known enough to help me if I couldn't piece together the right words.  I pulled up, they all stared, and I said, after greeting them, "Yeogi irrum mweoyayyo?" which was the best way I could think to ask, "Here name what is?"  "Boran," one man freely offered (think "bow-rahn").  At last!

He and the others threw a lot of Korean at me I didn't know, but I was able to understand enough to answer where I lived, where I'm from, what I do, and where I work.  We shared a lot of smiles, I wished them a happy Chuseok, and I drove away laughing hysterically (once I was out of sight) at the thrill of communicating (communicating!) with some locals.

And because the Koreans in Boran saw me.
*

Hunting for Androids in South Korea

Motorola Motoroi

I received my alien registration card in the mail three days ago, long before I expected it.  So, I started shopping for a Motorola Motoroi at SK Telecom stores and discovered it's hard to find because, purportedly, it has been discontinued.  By the time someone helped me find one last night, I'd lost my desire for the Motoroi.  It looks way too much like my Omnia and if I'm going to buy a new phone, I want a new phone.  With the Motoroi fading in popularity, I spent the afternoon Friday researching two other options.

Samsung Galaxy S

The Samsung Galaxy S (no add-on names here) was released here earlier this year, I believe.  I also found this phone hard to find when I started shopping, because it's so raging popular.  While the Galaxy here just has a 5 MP camera and no flash (Motoroi has 8 MP and a flash), it's thinner, sexier, and it has a front facing camera.  Actually, a surprisingly large number of non-smart phone phones have front facing cameras here.  I've observed in the past Korea leads the US in cell phone technology, but since I returned it appeared to me they're trailing us now thanks to the iPhone, which doesn't appear to be nearly as popular here, and Android, but with the proliferation of front facing cameras (and I've seen many people making video calls with them in the wild.), I'm withholding judgement on the front runner.

So, I want the Galaxy S, but (and this is a big but) I'd have to pay full price: $825!  The Motoroi I found is on sale for $215 and Koreans can buy the Galaxy for about the same price, but I have to pay full price because I'm a foreigner.  Isn't that crazy discrimination?  I pushed hard to make sure I understood this correctly.  I've never heard of such a thing.  In spite of the contract, this rule is based on the fact that foreigners like me too often leave before the contract is up, allegedly.  I was told I could go online to find a used Galaxy S, but given its popularity I doubt it'll be too much cheaper.  It's logical to think I could buy a Galaxy S from the States, but I'm learning Korea is so bloody restricted to only their home grown or approved phones, it's hard to believe it'd work.  So, overpay for a used Galaxy S to get my Android fix?

Samsung Galaxy Tab

While I was researching, I also investigated the Galaxy Tab (click the drool-worthy link).  I thought I found it had been released here in the spring, but I was wrong.  Something about a stolen picture of the Tab being released in China and Samsung delaying the release to redesign it somehow was the explanation I got when I complained.  Doesn't make any sense, but it remains unavailable.  Too bad.  I was in the market, I'll have money very soon, and I got a little worked up that I'd be one of the first to have a super sweet, big Android device in my hands soon.  Dammit.  With every major carrier in the US selling them soon, perhaps it'll be Tabs across America when I return.

For now, I remain phone-less.  I may settle for buying a used, boring phone to hold me over until I make a decision or have better choices.  I just want my Android.

Pillows and self-serve soda

On Thursday, I took a few hours off work and rode the to Daejoen, a city of 1.5 million 45 minutes east of Gongju.  With the results of my AIDS/drug test in hand, I traveled to the immigration office to submit an application for my alien registration card.  I representative from the school usually submits the application on behalf of foreigners or at least accompanies them to the office, but I've done this enough times, even by myself, I felt confident I could do it on my own.  My motivation to get my application submitted is that I can't get a "hand phone" until I have my AR card.  After an unusually long wait of two hours, I got my application submitted.  The immigration officer said it will take 10 days to process, mail, and receive the card in the mail (I assume business days), which might turn out to take longer because of the upcoming Chuseok  holiday (Sept. 21-23). 

My secondary purpose in going to Daejeon was to go to Costco.  From the two times I went to Costco in Seoul several years ago, I learned that much of what they carry is customized to the Korean customer base, but they also carry many things we want and expect them to carry in the States, like Lifetime tables and chairs.  I planned to just browse the store to familiarize myself with what they carry, but I hoped to find a few things I've been unable to find on my "to buy" list, like pillows and sheets.  It's tricky to explain how Korean pillows and sheets differ from American pillows and sheets, but I don't care for them here.

To my eyes, the massive Costco building I saw is a heartwarming tribute to American consumerism and capitalism.  Korea has their share of homegrown and outside megastores, but Costco screams, "You need our reasonable quality stuff, and you need them in large quantities, and we're even going to charge you a membership fee to get in the store, so you'll lust after our stuff more by thinking you're missing out if you don't have a card."  THAT'S America.

After entering the building and showing my membership card, I walked through the big screen TVs and stopped to don a pair of 3D glasses to watch my first 3D large screen television.  It was pretty cool.  Past the electronics, I found the bedding, and it was all Korean styles until I discovered a large bin selling two packs of queen size Sealy Posturepedic pillows.  Amazing!  I might have danced a little jig on the spot.  I was additionally pleased they were so cheap, just 15,900 won (about $16).  I just bought a pair, though I wanted four, as I had to consider how to carry everything home on the bus.  Unfortunately, they didn't sell pillow cases to match the pillows, and I doubt I'll find them here.

Aside from a 20 pack of dish towel size towels, that's all I bought.  It was tempting to buy more, but as I learned here last time around, it doesn't do much good to shop too often where you have to buy in large quantities if you don't have your own ride to get it home.

As you'll be able to tell from the pictures, the food court at the end of the store is nearly identical to those back home.  I smiled when I saw they offered bulgogi bakes along with chicken bakes, so I had one.  It was outstanding, sort of like a Philly cheesesteak sandwich.  

The best part of my journey came when I ordered my food and was offered an empty soda cup.  When I first came to Korea eight years ago, I was a little obsessed with finding self-serve fountain drinks.  They were practically impossible to find, so I had to settle for fountain drinks from McDonald's and KFC and canned soda, something I hated at the time but have since accepted.  When I saw these twin soda machines, I smiled.  "It only took me eight years to find you," I thought in a trembling voice, as I contemplated kneeling in homage.

And now I finally know I can get a self serve fountain drink in Korea whenever I have two hours and about $16 in bus and taxi fares to spare.  If I go, at least I'll have the chance to buy two more pillows, huh?

I found salt!

After four years' absence and after completing the requirements to get my teaching certificate (and getting it!), I returned to Korea to teach.  Frantic preparations the weeks leading up to my departure included stuffing and organizing all my possessions into a 10x30 storage unit, and with the recent changes in my family and the acquisition of better furniture, more books, and hoards of teaching supplies, that was not an easy or quick task.  Fortunately, everything seemed to come together in the final week, and what was once a stressful rush to pack and prepare for the flight and to be away from home for a year turned out to be relatively routine.

Now I've been in Gongju, South Korea for nearly two weeks.  The whole experience of being back in this strange country has been surreal.  The food is great, my Korean has quickly returned, and it almost feels like I never left.  The monsoon season is nearly over, so it's still oppressively humid and rainy.  My small two bedroom apartment has air conditioning, mercifully, but not much else, so I wrote up a list of things I need: a fan, western bedsheets and pillows, towels, dishes, computer speakers, an extension cord, and salt.

This country certainly has salt, but in the same manner we all crave the brands and styles of our home country, I wanted an inexpensive pair of salt and pepper shakers, an almost impossible thing to find.  One by one I've found most of the things on my list (but not a fan, yet!), but I'd almost resigned myself to asking for a pair of salt and pepper shakers from home.  Then I went to Seoul on Sunday to meet a good friend, and I wandered into Shinsegae, a massive department store, and while strolling through the ethnic section of the grocery store in the basement, I was stunned to discover...

...a pair of salt and pepper shakers!  I nearly stumbled, I was so surprised to find precisely what I'd envisioned in my quest.  What surprised me even more, though, was the price: $4.25!  This disposable, picnic set never runs more than $2.00 at home in the States (does it?), but you can bet I bought it anyway for the inconvenience in money and waiting it would have cost me to order from home.  Still, it seems a little pricey, right?

The next morning, it was all worth it as I sat and ate my hard boiled egg for breakfast with real salt and pepper. {contented sigh}