The Korean Return
In light of my recent escape from Korea (for the second time, this time with only minor hand sores to show for the month's worth of work and the continued battle against South Korean winter pollution), I have decided to write a reminder blog about some of the things I find interesting in Korea. "Interesting" being used as a homonym meaning annoying, intriguing, frightening, and entertaining.
Koreans can sleep anywhere. Case in point: As I rushed into the bathroom at Eulijiro-sam-ga subway station, thankful it was a sit-down toilet and not a squatter, I noticed a strange sound. Seeing as I was in the bathroom, I tried to block it out, afraid I might be witness to a sound I'd rather not hear. But the strange sound continued, muffled slightly by the stall wall between us. After minor embarrassment for the person in the stall next to me, and curiosity as to why they didn't use the "courtesy" button to drown out any unwanted sounds, I began to recognize the sound as something a bit different. Upon further straining of my one good ear, I suddenly realized that the sound coming from the next stall was not what I had initially thought at all. Instead, it was snoring. Deep, loud snoring, as if the woman had been asleep for ages and was now in that sleep state where not even the continual flush of the surrounding toilets could wake her.
Just in case you don't believe me about the sleeping...Riding the bus home after meeting a friend for some bibimbop, I noticed a man in a suit curled in the fetal position across two bus seats. He was sound asleep, with his shoes off and his feet resting in the bus window. When the bus came to it's last stop and I stood to go, the bus driver stood up, walked back to the man, shook him violently and told him to get off the bus (or so I assume, but my Korean is limited, so he could have said any number of things to the suited man). The suited man, groggily stood up, put his shoes back on and stumbled off the bus.
Koreans are very polite, but when trying to get on a subway, they'll push like any angry kindergartner. Twice in two weeks, I got stuck on the subway steps. Same station, same exit. Gangnam, Exit 6. Rounding the corner in the underground market heading for the exit, I noticed a long line forming near the exit steps. The line going up the steps was roughly 8 people wide and was barely moving. The line coming down the steps into the underground market, was about 2 people wide and moving at only a slightly faster speed. Seeing as I had to exit at that exit, I got in the line and slowly made my way to the stairs, one tiny step at a time. But when I started up the stairs, jammed between people who were politely queuing, I got stuck about halfway up. The pedestrian traffic simply stopped. Too many people were trying to get in and too many people were trying to get out. Standstill. After several minutes of standing, I took one more step up, just a little closer to my escape. This process continued for about 10 minutes and there are only roughly 20 steps leading out of the subway.
Queuing to get up the stairs is one thing, trying to get on a subway is a whole other story. As I sat on the subway seats, looking up as the subway car got more and more crowded, I started to panic that I wouldn't be able to get off the subway if people kept getting on. Already, people were crammed into each other like canned oysters, and more people were trying to get on. I saw people start to push inward at the subway doors and when I thought for sure I'd never be able to even stand, let alone push my way out, I watched four people on the subway just barely inside the doors, begin shoving people out who were trying to get on. And then the doors closed. By the time my stop came, there was just enough room for me to stand and push my way to the doors. Sigh.
I have such a love/hate relationship with this country. For the most part, I love it. It intrigues me, it makes me smile, it makes me laugh, it sometimes makes me want to pull my hair out. Every day that I'm there, I feel as if I've won some small battle and I finish each day feeling triumphant. Maybe that's not how life is supposed to be, but there is satisfaction in surviving there. It was strange to return and find that there was so much familiarity that it felt comfortable, almost like returning home. But my body doesn't like it there and I have such averse reactions to the environment that I know I could never return long term; which for the time being and Sebastian and my upcoming adventure to manage an eco-resort on Tioman Island in Malaysia, is quite alright with me.
Koreans can sleep anywhere. Case in point: As I rushed into the bathroom at Eulijiro-sam-ga subway station, thankful it was a sit-down toilet and not a squatter, I noticed a strange sound. Seeing as I was in the bathroom, I tried to block it out, afraid I might be witness to a sound I'd rather not hear. But the strange sound continued, muffled slightly by the stall wall between us. After minor embarrassment for the person in the stall next to me, and curiosity as to why they didn't use the "courtesy" button to drown out any unwanted sounds, I began to recognize the sound as something a bit different. Upon further straining of my one good ear, I suddenly realized that the sound coming from the next stall was not what I had initially thought at all. Instead, it was snoring. Deep, loud snoring, as if the woman had been asleep for ages and was now in that sleep state where not even the continual flush of the surrounding toilets could wake her.
Just in case you don't believe me about the sleeping...Riding the bus home after meeting a friend for some bibimbop, I noticed a man in a suit curled in the fetal position across two bus seats. He was sound asleep, with his shoes off and his feet resting in the bus window. When the bus came to it's last stop and I stood to go, the bus driver stood up, walked back to the man, shook him violently and told him to get off the bus (or so I assume, but my Korean is limited, so he could have said any number of things to the suited man). The suited man, groggily stood up, put his shoes back on and stumbled off the bus.
Koreans are very polite, but when trying to get on a subway, they'll push like any angry kindergartner. Twice in two weeks, I got stuck on the subway steps. Same station, same exit. Gangnam, Exit 6. Rounding the corner in the underground market heading for the exit, I noticed a long line forming near the exit steps. The line going up the steps was roughly 8 people wide and was barely moving. The line coming down the steps into the underground market, was about 2 people wide and moving at only a slightly faster speed. Seeing as I had to exit at that exit, I got in the line and slowly made my way to the stairs, one tiny step at a time. But when I started up the stairs, jammed between people who were politely queuing, I got stuck about halfway up. The pedestrian traffic simply stopped. Too many people were trying to get in and too many people were trying to get out. Standstill. After several minutes of standing, I took one more step up, just a little closer to my escape. This process continued for about 10 minutes and there are only roughly 20 steps leading out of the subway.
Queuing to get up the stairs is one thing, trying to get on a subway is a whole other story. As I sat on the subway seats, looking up as the subway car got more and more crowded, I started to panic that I wouldn't be able to get off the subway if people kept getting on. Already, people were crammed into each other like canned oysters, and more people were trying to get on. I saw people start to push inward at the subway doors and when I thought for sure I'd never be able to even stand, let alone push my way out, I watched four people on the subway just barely inside the doors, begin shoving people out who were trying to get on. And then the doors closed. By the time my stop came, there was just enough room for me to stand and push my way to the doors. Sigh.
I have such a love/hate relationship with this country. For the most part, I love it. It intrigues me, it makes me smile, it makes me laugh, it sometimes makes me want to pull my hair out. Every day that I'm there, I feel as if I've won some small battle and I finish each day feeling triumphant. Maybe that's not how life is supposed to be, but there is satisfaction in surviving there. It was strange to return and find that there was so much familiarity that it felt comfortable, almost like returning home. But my body doesn't like it there and I have such averse reactions to the environment that I know I could never return long term; which for the time being and Sebastian and my upcoming adventure to manage an eco-resort on Tioman Island in Malaysia, is quite alright with me.
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