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chertop

25 Blog Entries
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Trips:

Japan and South Korea 2010

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http://blogabond.com/chertop


My mother tells me that when I was five and she took me by train from Vancouver to Edmonton, we had barely left Vancouver when I declared "Enough train. Get down now." But, at age 11 when my paternal grandmother took me from Edmonton to California and Disneyland, the trip instilled in me a sense of travel being adventure, living intensely, having pie for breakfast, grilled cheese and pickles in bus stations for lunch, and encountering the unexpected. After my first year of university, I traveled to Rome on an archeology course; I recall that flying through an abbreviated night and landing in Rome at dawn was like being reborn. My travel in Canada, Europe, South American and Asia may have been escape, or finding myself, but always made life "ever so much more so." (The profile photo is of me in Maui, Hawaii, loading images into my computer, apparently dazzling images, judging by the sunglasses).


Korean Farm Visit

Taegu, South Korea


November 12 Friday
Waking up before 7am, I packed and dragged my suitcase down the 3 flights of stairs. It is considerably heavier now that it contains 7 packages of Korean herbal medicine, 7 of them liquid. Mostly through acting it out, I conveyed my request that the hotel keep my luggage and I would return at 19:00. Once the perplexed look on the face of the attendant disappeared and he took my suitcase to the nearby closet, I headed out for bus #814. Even though the bus was rush hour crowded, I felt good about knowing how to get where I wanted to go.
At DongDaegu train station, I bought my ticket for Ulsan for this evening, bought a pastry decorated with egg and hot dog slices, and went outside to find the city bus tour. The small office was staffed with a young woman who spoke almost as little English as I speak Korean, so we communicated via my very limited Japanese, my even translating for some Israelis who arrived to buy tickets.
When I asked her if I could sit and eat my breakfast pastry, she quickly offered me coffee which she made from hot water from the hot/cold dispenser and I had a relaxed wait for the 10am bus.
This bus headed north out of the city to the mountain Palgonsan which rises a jagged ridge above autumn hills and under azure sky. I got off at the Guam farm where I was greeted by three culture guides in dark uniforms. I returned their greeting but continued walking looking for the ticket booth. One followed me and told me his English name is Ken. He showed me the workshop for braiding hemp into rope and for making it into baskets, mats and all sorts of traditional items, including back packs used by farmers of old.
He showed me the room where fabric is dyed a pale orange earth color, and made into garments. Then the lunch room where classes of schoolchildren get to taste traditional foods like the freshly made rice patties turned out and dusted with a pale brown flour by women cooks. Ken and I each ate several pieces and, while not having a lot of flavor, they were soft and chewy, unlike the rice paste items from the “lunch” the Korean man had bought Mary and me in the Seoul subway (which we ate until the last pieces, several days later, were too hard to be food and we used them, on the train from Suwon to Daegu, as spoons to eat our yoghurt.
An elementary class had piled on a wagon and Ken had us join them for a trip around the small roads to see farm workers assembling a greenhouse from the metal hoops and the huge sheets of transparent plastic film. Excited boys jumped up and down testing their balance as the wagon turned around corners; girls in pairs obviously were best friends; all shouted enthusiastic greetings to the farm workers.
Returning to the workshop area, we found a class of kindergarten children being helped by their teachers to try on the traditional backpacks. The teachers would also lift each kid up to stand on one end of the rice pounder and experience how the other end pounds rice kernels into flour
On the way out, Ken showed me the small traditional wedding room. The bed was a futon on the floor, the walls were covered with inscriptions, and bright colored silk attire hung nearby.
I was amazed that there was no ticket to buy and Ken asked for no money. After warm thanks and goodbyes, I walked out to the highway. Some 6 city tour buses head out from 10am to 16:40 and stop at 7 different sites where you can get off and then get on a later bus. In the bus, a large screen tv shows the sites of “colorful Daegu.”

permalink written by  chertop on November 12, 2010 from Taegu, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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Daegu's Korean Oriental Medicine Market

Taegu, South Korea

We took a taxi to Suwon train station and train to Taegu - past autumn forest hills, water standing in rice paddies, a cultivated pond of what appeared to be lotus root, acres of greenhouses (some open so I could see the smoothly manicured soil, others assembled with metal hoops, irrigation sprinklers, and translucent covering). We saw traditional houses, some with bright blue roofs. Our train crossed 3 rivers on bridges. When a Korean man approached us pointing to his ticket, we discovered that seats are assigned; we obligingly moved; he took pains to brush the seat off completely!
Our hotel's name is romanized either” Lausanne” or “Rozan”; either way, the pamphlets outside and poster inside and which are up only at night, are evidence it is a “love hotel.” But, unlike in Suwon, we have the luxury of sheets.
Walking out to a restaurant about 10 minutes away, we had to match the Korean characters in the sign to the notation in our guidebook, as well as the menu, as there was no English in either. We tried their goat and their dog soup, each ordering a bowl of one or the other so that we could share them and each get to experience both, probably for the one and only time, (the goat meat was tough and the dog meat mercifully sparse in that soup). Then walking back, we stopped into “Home Plus” a huge supermarket plus department store with food courts offering everything from Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Greek cuisine, and pasta to “Krazee Burgers.” Tiny ice cream cones were $4-5, but we had decided on ice cream to quench the fire in our mouths from dinner; Mary had the inspired idea that we buy a package from the grocery section. Passing up the green tea ice cream, we chose “Goo-Goo” – chocolate covered peanuts, caramel, chocolate and marshmallow ice cream... and we ate up the whole liter o
November 11 Thursday
We made our own filter coffee with hot water from the dispenser in the hall and ate some of the walnut topped and coffee-filled pastries that we had bought last night when we got our Goo-Goo ice cream.
Also last night, a woman who spoke good English had addressed us as we made our way to the restaurant; I took the opportunity to ask her what bus we should take to go downtown to the Oriental medicine market. But, this morning, on the bus #427 that she recommended, we had an uncommunicative driver so we had to pour over our only and minimal map (the small one in our guidebook) and try to match its features with the bus's turns and its crossing a river. A woman on the bus indicated we should get down at Towel Street, which indeed had shops selling mountains of towels.
We walked many twists, turns and even backtracked before we found a street of shops displaying Oriental herbs - ginseng root in golden or in red wine, various types of fungus, deer horn and many more substances we could not even guess. It was fascinating to see and to make photos of the multitude of shapes, colors, and especially the colored wine lit through with sunlight.
Most shopkeepers went about their own business, but one youngish man invited us in and showed us the tailbone of a deer (a smooth, black, concave arrow shape), dried seahorses, and various other medicines. He gave us each a red berry that has 5 different tastes – I could taste pepper, citrus and sweet. He offered and gave us tea that is supposed to relieve fatigue. We asked about some thorny stems and he indicated they were from cactus and were for knee problems, so I asked to buy some; he wrapped up two 4 inch twigs as a gift to us. He supplemented that with a package of fragrance, also a gift. Mary took out money, determined to buy some of the fatigue relieving medicine, but he made us a gift of even that. Overwhelmed, we each took out our name cards to give him: I wrote on mine that, if he ever visits the United States, I hoped he would visit me. His English was only slightly better than our Korean but he had a ipod with translation from Korean to English so was able to show us what a number of the medicines were, and also to communicate that he was born 2 storeys above the shop which his father and grandfather had run before him.
Leaving with many thanks, we finally found the Museum of Korean Oriental medicine, a two storey spacious building set in a garden, whose interior had displays, interactive media where you could find out which of 4 body types you are, and videos telling in story form about people discovering the healing properties of various medicines. You chose from the menu English, Japanese, Chinese or Korean. A very detailed audio tape introduced us to the history and explained how Oriental medicine is based on duality – yin and yang, cold and hot, night and day, and on restoring the balance in the body as a whole rather than just treating a specific part of the anatomy as western medicine does. Balance is important also in the harmony and the antagonism of the elements fire, water, wood, earth, metal, each with its own color.
When we left at 2pm, I was ravenous; the young woman at the info booth guided us around the corner to a restaurant connected to the museum where we sat on cushions on an ondol (heated floor) and ate ginseng chicken with rice soup and, for dessert, savored ginseng tea sweetened with honey. Especially in the chicken, whose skin was blackened yet soft, the ginseng had a bitterness that may be, like coffee and beer, an acquired taste. As we left,the woman who had made and served our meal offered us coffee to go, made directly from a dispensing machine, it was the only coffee we've had in Korea, except Starbucks', that has been strong and flavorful enough for Mary and me to enjoy.
We made our way along Jewelery Street to Seomun Market, which is a huge city block of many small laneways crowded with shops selling everything – shoes, socks, clothing, costume jewelery, everything. Stalls were slipped in sideways - cooking and serving broth, intestines on skewers, noodles floating in soup. Within the warren of lanes is a multistorey building equally or more crowded with shops selling silks, beautiful traditional Korean wedding dresses in every color, shoes in traditional style for weddings, pairs of carved ducks to give as wedding gifts, funky fashionable modern women's clothing, especially tops, vests and jackets ... no wonder the young women we see are so stylish! Mary and I got talking with a man selling colorful fabric foot-covers that extend part way up the calf; he was eager for us to try them on and to tell us about them, despite our sparse common language,.... but we found him not receptive to bargaining. Eventually we did buy 6 pairs, not nearly as heavy to carry home as gifts as is the package of oriental herbs (turned out to include 8 packages of soy-like liquid) that we were given earlier today.
We found the stairway to the top floor lined with vendors of food and drink, and that the exit on the top floor goes to the outside where two men sat playing mahjong under a pale skyline and hazy pink sun. Trying to head home to our “love hotel,” we found the market became more colorful as lights came on and darkness fell. Finding a subway entrance, we ducked in out of the beginning rain and rode to the closest station to our hotel - from which it was still a long walk. But we emerged into a downpour, fierce wind scattering the pedestrians. It took much pondering, as well as deliberation between us, and several descents into the subway only to again come up a stairway that proved not to be what we wanted... before Mary asked a man unlocking a bike which way was “nam” or south, and I asked someone which way was the Home Plus store, as I knew we could find our way from there. It then took another descent into the subway to get on the correct corner of the huge intersection. Finally we walked past the Grand Hotel, whose location on our map showed we were headed home.
Finally we reached Home Plus and, in its food court, we chose from plastic displays, me a Japanese cutlet supper and Mary a Greek omelet stuffed with rice --- both accompanied with rice.
Mary packed faster than I've seen anyone and we headed out to the bus stop for #814 as she is headed by train for Ulsan where she and Jennifer will have most of tomorrow just the two of them.


permalink written by  chertop on November 11, 2010 from Taegu, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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From Suwon's fortress to Daegu's dog soup

Taegu, South Korea

November 10 Wednesday
Mary has been making strides in learning Korean and the people are delighted, and sometimes amused, to talk with her. Using a course loaded onto her Ipod, she hears the Korean, and writes memory clues to help remember it. While she studied this morning, I walked briskly up to see the massive gate at the far north end of Suwon's fortress wall. (Our guest house is near the south end's huge entrance gate and at night we see the gate, observation towers, and fire-beacon platforms magically lit.)
I hiked along the wall, looked out on the modern city, its rectangular buildings so different from the historic fortress, then strode along the Suwoncheon (river) back to our guest house.

We took a taxi to Suwon station and train to Daegu - past autumn forest hills, water standing in rice paddies, a cultivated pond of what appeared to be lotus root, acres of greenhouses (some open so I could see the smoothly manicured soil, others assembled with metal hoops, irrigation sprinklers, and translucent covering). We saw traditional houses, some with bright blue roofs. Our train crossed 3 rivers on bridges. We discovered that seats are assigned when a Korean man approached us pointing to his ticket; we obligingly moved; he took pains to brush the seat off completely!
Our hotel's name is romanized either Lausanne or Rozan; either way, the pamphlets outside and poster inside, up only at night, are evidence it is a “love hotel.” But, unlike in Suwon, we have the luxury of sheets.
Walking out to a restaurant about 10 minutes away, we had to match the Korean characters in the sign to the notation in our guidebook, as well as the menu, as there was no English in either. We tried their goat and their dog soup, each ordering a bowl of one or the other, probably for the one and only time, (the goat meat was tough and the dog meat mercifully sparse in that soup). Then walking back, we stopped into “Home Plus” a huge supermarket plus department store with food courts offering everything from Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Greek cuisine, and pasta to Krazee Burgers. Tiny ice cream cones were $4-5, but we had decided on ice cream to quench the fire in our mouths from dinner; Mary had the inspired idea that we buy a package from the grocery section. Passing up the green tea ice cream, we chose “Goo-Goo” – chocolate covered peanuts, caramel, chocolate and marshmallow ice cream... and we ate up the whole liter of it!

permalink written by  chertop on November 10, 2010 from Taegu, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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Suwon's Korean Folk Village, Spa and Fortress

Suwon, South Korea

In Seoul, I had called the Hwaesong Guest House there, using Jenn's phone. Reaching Suwon subway station, I found a tourist info booth where an English-speaking staffperson wrote the name and phone number in Korean so I could give that to a taxi driver. He talked on his cell phone as he drove and, miraculously, at a small street past the historic gate to the Suwon fortress, a Korean man obviously expecting us, was waiting to show us down the street to the guest house. We have a room with a double bed and bright pink flowered walls. You remove your shoes to step up into the room and put on a kind of flip-flop to go into our attached and huge bathroom.
Walking out for supper, we found fierce wind bending streetside trees; sleet pelted and soaked us with temperatures dropping from September to late November's. After walking past shops, including a tailor's, and more colorful, illuminated gates of the fortress walls, we ducked out of the rain into a spacious Korean restaurant. Immediately three women descended on us in fervent welcome. We wanted the famous galpi beef dish and were royalty with two of the women bringing us perhaps 15 different side dsihes and one beautiful woman cooking for us over the hot coats at our table. she made and handed ech of us rolls of the delicious marinated beef, plus kimchi, vegetable, red sauce and/or raw garlic... all wrapped in a lettuce leaf. Following her example we learned to make our own. Mary was able to thank them, say how delicious, and ask what various things were... giving them great pleasure and a little amusement.
Back at the guest house, we discovered we had no sheets or pillow cases...so went on a search and, from the Korean men's dorm, obtained pillows and two covers from bunk beds.

November 9 Tuesday
First morning stop was the bakery on the corner – cakes, pastries and sandwiches to rival our Japanese Gratie coffee and pastry place in Fukuoka. Mary tells me that a candy company managed to create a Korean Valentine's day on November 11 (armistice for warring couples?) and the bakery is resplendent with cakes (made of rice paste) that are dazzling works of art.
Walking to the train station, or more specifically, the tourist information house, we catch the bus to the Korean folk village. A half hour ride through industrial, commercial and residential high-rises identified only by number 316...327...409 (people-storage devices), takes us to the village that quickly became my favorite place in Korea. At the huge gate were guards in traditional dress. Beyond the souvenir shops and food court, traditional buildings of farmer and nobleman, from both northern and southern Korea, formed a village with a pottery shop, paper-making shop, and blacksmith shop. There was a craftsman in traditional white garb weaving a bowl, another making a mat, both from rice straw, and in another dwelling, even a fortune teller. There were flame-colored autumn leaves on the trees.... and no cars!
Besides the peace and quiet, we were treated to performances - drum and dance including spectaular acrobatics as part of what was supposedly a farmer's dance, but involved tassled and colorful attire, with long ribbons on the hats that the men dancing moved with slight movements of their heads and made them swirl like in a Chinese ribbon dance. The musician/dancers sounded their drums, tambourines and cymbals in energetic percussion, as they marched, circled and spiralled, reaching a frenzy of excitement in which the outer ring of dancers, as if propelled by centrifugal force, whipped themselves into twirling somersault cartwheels.
The “peasant” troupe had barely marched away when, in a nearby performance space, a solitary tightrope walker walk/climbed up the 40 degree rope from ground to aerial tightrope. There he repeatedly crossed from one platform, via the rope, to the other, amazing us with his bouncing down to straddle the rope and apparently bouncing back up off his groin! Or squatting on one foot, spinning to face the other way. Especially during the periods of talk/explanation that we of course couldn't comprehend, we were entranced by the group of kindergarten children sitting beside us with their teachers – beautiful, dark-haired, almond eyed children.
At noon a traditional wedding ceremmony took place in the courtyard of the nobleman's villa. With white-clad Confucian officials presiding, the groom entered first in maroon robes, then the bride bedecked in silk was escorted in with a woman attendant on each side. As they faced each other on opposite sides of a table laden with fruit and other food, bride and groom each separately bowed to each other, were given drink and something to eat by the officials. Finally a procession, groom on horseback and bride carried in a palaquin proceded from the nobleman's house..
Just before we left, we witnessed a spectacular display of equestrian skill, riders galloping their steeds around a ring and doing acrobatic stunts – bouncing off the ground back up to the saddle, springing into headstands, throwing a spear into a poster of a boar or shooting arrows into a target, all at high speed.
The 4pm bus brought us back into the land of traffic, industry, crowds and neon signs. Mary went to the Starbucks to get a real coffee (almost everywhere else coffee is a weak and unsatisfactory brew). Meanwhile I went to the tourist info outside Suwon station to get times for the trains to Daegu for tomorrow, and ask about Suwon's jjimjibang (upmarket sauna and spa) and camera shops (since I have already filled my 2GB card with images). In the camera store I opened my camera and showed the card and the battery so, despite our lack of mutual language, I was able to buy both.
At Starbucks, Mary and I discussed plans for the next few days; she had looked up Jjimjibang, some are right at hot springs, have baths of such substances as mud, cedar, and green tea. The young woman at the tourist info had told me Suwon's jjimjibang was near the bus station but that she had never been to it and didn't know the name. On the map it looked within walking distance but even at a fast pace, we tromped for ages (at least 1 ¼ hours) on pavement from downtown into extremely untouristy areas of furniture stores, past garages and repair shops and into another downtown of looo-ooong city blocks. When we stopped to ask to make sure we were on the right street, we were told in effect, “Take taxi or you reach there tomorrow.” Dragging, with aching legs, I was so ready to give up, especially when we had to retrace our steps. A taxi would have been only $5-6 but we had no name of the place. By great good fortune, as we thought we were nearing the bus terminal, I approached a businessman and asked “Jjimjibang?” and he kindly showed us a nearby pink sign – one for women.
We took stairs to a lower level where pink-clad Korean women giggled and took our W5000 ($5) and gave us tea-towel sized orange towels as well as each a key to a locker. Women were walking around nude so we stripped, piled our things into our lockers and went to shower, squating and pouring water from basins over ourselves as well as soaping ourselves. Then into the hot tub. There were 3 comfortably hot, one with bubbly, and another fiery hot that Mary enjoyed, particularly after the cold pool,where we could swim the 25 foot length but mostly used the jets to massage our backs and my aching legs. We tried out the steam room, where you sit on benches, and the dry sauna (64-67 degrees Centigrade) where you sit on the floor stones. Those rooms, as well as the relaxation room above them, had walls of pink and black tumbled pebbles in a design that suggested black mountains and pink sky. In the relaxation room, we tried out the plastic pillows with hard nubs over their surface but then gave up and shared the one soft pillow, the size of a bread loaf, our heads on the pillow and our bodies extending out in a pie shape. Most jjimjibang are open 24 hours so you can sleep overnight in the relaxation room.
Back downstairs, we found beach lounge chairs to stretch out on. On pink massage tables, lay women naked and being massaged, oiled, and pummelled by two other women in what appeared to be black bra and panties. In the outer room one naked woman knelt on the floor, her body and head stretched out along a bench while another woman straddled the bench, massaging her tattooed back. As Mary and I relaxed in this community of women indulging, rejuvenating, luxuriating in the comfort and stimulation of touch, I wondered how Korean immigrants, if not in a community of Koreans, must pine for the sisterhood of the jjimjibang.
A taxi home was another automatic indulgence requiring no decision. Mary said I was asleep even before the little fridge in our room began rattling the tea cup sitting on it.

November 10 Wednesday
Mary has been making strides in learning Korean and the people are delighted, and sometimes amused, to talk with her. Using a course loaded onto her ipod, she hears the Korean, and writes memory clues to help remember it. While she studied this morning, I walked briskly up to see the massive gate at the far end of Suwon's fortress wall. (Our guest house is near the south end's huge entrance gate and at night we see the gate, observation towers, and fire-beacon platforms magically lit.) I hiked along the wall, looked out on the modern city, its rectangular buildings so different from the historic fortress, then strode along the Suwoncheon (river) back to our guest house.

permalink written by  chertop on November 9, 2010 from Suwon, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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The Seoul of Asia

Seoul, South Korea

November 6 Saturday
At 7:30am we left the hotel by bus for the DMZ, traveling out from Seoul into fields. Beside the expressway ran barbed wire which became higher as we drove north. Before we were allowed to enter the Demilitarized Zone, a soldier of the ROK (South Korea) came on the bus to check our passports – tall, young, unsmiling, in camouflage with white helmet and large sunglasses - he was one of what our guide described as "unhappy campers" sent to the front lines for their 24 month compulsory military service.
The milky smog obliterated the sun and any view from the observation point - which, ironically considering the weather, had a yellow line – no photos allowed from beyond it. So the only idea we got of the landscape, including the extensive mountains, was from a film and a relief model. The 2km-wide no man's land on either side of the Demarcation Line has become a refuge for wildlife – including deer and birds, and we saw a photo of fish swimming over old bullets lying in a stream.
Wearing bright yellow helmets, we descended into the Third Infiltration Tunnel, one of 4 underground passages discovered by the ROK and blamed on the North Koreans' attempt to get 30,000 soldiers a hour through the tunnel to attack Seoul, only 56 m away. An 11% grade heads steeply down to some 73 meters below the surface, a tunnel blasted thru granite with yellow splashes of paint marking the dynamite holes. The walls were apparently blackened by North Korea, the DRK claiming to be searching for coal. Cool, wet granite walls continued down to where a concrete barrier and steel blocked off the further reaches of the tunnel. I don't suffer from claustrophobia but began to feel nauseous so I climbed up slowly (the guide had told us the air is bad enough that they no longer station soldiers down there to ensure we tourists obey the rule of no picture-taking)... now cameras watch us.
We visited souvenir shops where people bought North Korean beer and shogu (a Vodka like drink), rice grown in the DMZ, and chocolate made with soybeans, then the bus took us to a government run shop with uniformed Korean women promoting Korean gingeng products. Offered a thimble cup of ginseng powder dissolved in liquid, I drank it and my stomach bean to recover.
An endless drive back thru crowded, gridlocked traffic of Seoul returned us to city center. The guide would not take us to our hotel, probably because of the traffic, but dropped us close to the palace ... we reached it just in time to watch a changing of the guard -traditionally garbed Korean nobility in stunning red and yellow court costumes. After the procession, we lunched in a Vietnamese noodle shop – anise-flavored broth and shaved beef.
Mary and I walked to a canal where there were festive lanterns of all sizes, some so big they occupied a whole float. Descending to the path along the water, we walked past ones illustrating Korean fairy tales, and aspects of countries participating in the current G20 summit, including kangaroos, Maori,and the Big Ben clock of London. Under a bridge kids were making paper lanterns to hang from the ceiling, the bridge protecting them from the elements.
Crossing the canal by big stepping stones, we ascended the stairs again and encountered a hardware district with many lighting shops brilliant with multi-colored lamps as twilight darkened the city. Then we ventured into a covered arcade resplendent with stalls of fabric, beads, traditional Korean attire , lace and bead headdresses worthy of Cher.
My legs ached and once we reached the subway, I wanted only to return to the hotel even if I had to make my way through the intimidating Seoul underground by myself. But, ironically, this turned out to be the very subway station where Jen, Den and Miriam were to meet us, in about an hour, to go to dinner. I sat on the floor, my calves against the cool hard floor of the station, writing in my notebook, while Mary went foraging for a coffee. I suddenly heard a man say “Hello, mama,” and I looked up. The man asked where I was going and where was I from. He left but, after Mary returned, he came back with 3 packages of “lunch” for us, which consisted of glutinous rice cakes and warm soy milk. As a thank you, Mary gave him the Canadian flag decoration from her handbag and he seemed very pleased with that.
Miriam arrived and seemed not to want anything to do with us crazy foreigners sitting on the ground as Koreans would apparently not do. She stayed at a distance except when I introduced her and our benefactor, John, who turned out to be a Baptist minister who could quote the Bible and count in Aramaic. Mary and I settled into enjoying the unexpected adventure of interacting with a local in a friendly way as we waited for Jen and Den to arrive. But Miriam figured people, including John, thought we were begging or homeless.
Upstairs in a Korean barbecue restaurant, the 5 of us sat on cushions on the floor. The waitress started a round barbecue at each end of the long table. We cooked black pork belly meat and ate it with a great array of side dishes, including rice and soup at the end of the meal.

Sunday November7
Mary and I headed for the palace where we walked through the gardens and looked into doorways and windows. Walls were partitions of white paper. In the grounds of the second palace, we walked around one of the ponds, luxuriating in the autumn colors and enjoying the beautiful Chinese mandarin ducks before their winter migration, colorful males with orange and teal, subtle-colored but gentle and elegant females. In the secret garden, amongst pavilions, ponds, and a 400-year-old mulberry tree, autumn colors were intense even with the city's milky haze.
We hiked to the subway, taking it to where we hiked steeply up the road, stairs and path to a Buddhist temple. At the Buddhist temple, a gray clad monk was ringing a somber big bell, striking it with a huge cylindrical log suspended horizontally. Inside the temple, a sacred place with the front wall a row of golden Buddhas above multi-colored petals of illuminated lotus flowers, red and green lanterns hung from the ceiling. A wall was composed of rows of small Buddhas in niches. I knelt to speak my thanks, for being there, silently but fervently. Neither of us made any flash photographs, even though we were alone with the Divine.... the image would have been of a different place.
Across the path, another gray clad monk lit with the red light of an electric heater was working at books.
Climbing higher we approached a shrine where a man appeared to be scrubbing the ground before him, pushin his hands forward and drawing them back ... yet it had the fervency of prayer and we slipped quietly by lest he be embarrassed or at least his intensity interrupted.
Yet further up the mountain we came to a Dali-esque rock above another shrine. The rock was shaped like a huge egg with elongated Swiss cheese holes. A woman was prostrating herself as if in repeated Salutations to the Sun. Offerings of food and drink were on the altar as well as incense and candles. Climbing still higher, we came to a smaller Buddhist shrine, although these places of worship seemed to combine aspects of both Buddhism and Shamanism. Stairs in the rock ascended still higher – in the gloaming we placed our feet carefully, then sat gazing out over the city lights below as darkness fell.
A maze of steep narrow laneways took us down past people's houses of a residential neighborhood until we again reached the plateau of shops, including ones selling pizza and fried chicken, and the subway. Despite my tired, aching legs, I felt a tranquil exhilaration at our experiences of the day, plus my beginning to comprehend Seoul's intimidating subway system.
What luxury, back at our hotel, not to have to go out again but shower and just walk down the hall from our room to the lounge where our temporary membership scores us not only a beer but “appetizers” that more than suffice for supper. When they returned from pizza and garlicky salad at an Italian restaurant nearby, Jennifer and Miriam found us there by the picture window, city night lights spread out below us.

November 8 Monday
Mary, Jennifer, Miriam and I made our way two subway stops to another area of modern urbanity – storeys-high neon signs and tv screens, trendy shops, and ads displaying platinum-blond Korean models. After some hunting, we found the second floor Dr Fish spa, where you pay W2000 for access to sit beside a long rectangular box set in the floor, containing water and small fish, who immediately when you put your feet into the water, rush to nibble on them. Initially the sensation is so intense a tickle that you grimace and twist but eventually you settle down into watching the little pink mouths kiss and pluck at your skin, apparently eating off the dead skin. Ironically the watery coffee, or other drinks you are expected to buy, cost W4800 to 6800 more than twice the price of the unforgettable experience of being food for the fish!.. but the spacious spa with picture windows looking over the street, “self bar” of breads to eat with butter and jam, along with our coffee, gave us a luxurious relaxation before Jenn and Miriam headed for the airport, and Mary and I lugged our suitcases to the subway for a trip on 3 different lines, transferring twice, ending at Suwon, a distinct city from Seoul, although with no break in the urban metropolis.

permalink written by  chertop on November 8, 2010 from Seoul, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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Demilitarized Zone - 56 kilometers from Seoul

Seoul, South Korea

November 6 Saturday
At 7:30am we left the hotel by bus for the DMZ, traveling out from Seoul into a countryside of fields. Beside the expressway ran barbed wire which became higher as we drove north. Before we were allowed to enter the Demilitarized Zone, a soldier of South Korea, the ROK, came on the bus to check our passports – tall, young, unsmiling, in camouflage, with white helmet and large sunglasses despite the milky smog that obliterated the sun and any view from the observation point. Ironically, considering the weather, the observation point had a yellow line – no photos allowed from beyond it.

Mary and Korean soldiers at the line beyond which you are not supposed to photograph
We got an idea of the landscape, including the mountains, from a film and relief model. The 2km no man's land on either side of the Demarcation Line has become a refuge for wildlife – deer, birds, ... we saw a photo of fish swimming over bullets lying in a stream.
Wearing bright yellow helmets, we descended into the Third Infiltration Tunnel, one of 4 discovered by the the ROK and blamed on the North Koreans' attempt to get 30,000 soldiers a hour through to attack Seoul, only 56 m away.

Lorna with hard hat for descent into Third Infiltration Tunnel
The tunnel was blasted through granite with yellow splashes of paint marking the dynamite holes. The walls were blackened to support the claim that North Korea, the DRK, was searching for coal. An 11% grade heads steeply down 73 meters below the surface, all cool wet granite, down to where a concrete and steel barrier blocked off the further reaches of the tunnel. I don't suffer from claustrophobia but began to feel nauseous so I climbed back up slowly. (South Korean soldiers used to be posted at the barrier but no longer since the air is such poor quality.)
Numerous souvenir shops sold North Korean beer and shogu (vodka-like rice alcohol), rice, and chocolate made with soybeans. The tour then took us to a government-run shop with uniformed Korean women giving a hard-sell, promoting the ginseng products. Offered a thimble cup of ginseng powder in liquid, I drank it and my stomach recovered more than from the coke.

Mary with ginseng

We endured an endless drive back through crowded, gridlocked traffic. The guide would not take us to our hotels but offered 2 drop places in central Seoul. We chose one close to the palace and were just in time to watch a changing of the guard - traditionally garbed Korean nobility in stunning red and yellow court costumes.

Palace Guard an d Lorna
After the procession, we lunched in a Vietnamese noodle shop – anise-flavored broth with shaved beef.
Mary and I walked to a canal and came upon a lantern festival extending at least a kilometer along the water. Festive lanterns came in all sizes - some so big they occupied a whole float. Descending to the path along the water, we walked past ones illustrating everything from Korean fairytales to themes of the countries participating in the coming G20 conference - kangaroos, Maori, Big Ben. Under a bridge kids were making paper lanterns to hang from the ceiling.
Crossing the canal on large stepping stones, we ascended the stairs again and found ourselves in the hardware district - many lighting shops shone brilliantly with multi-colored lamps as twilight darkened the city. We ducked into covered arcades where sellers offered bric-a-brac, beads, traditional Korean attire, lace, and bead headdresses worthy of Cher.
My legs ached and once we reached the subway, I wanted only to return to the hotel - even if I had to make my way by myself through the intimidating Seoul Underground. But, ironically, this turned out to be the very subway station where Jenn, Den and Miriam were to meet Mary in about an hour to go to dinner. Unsure whether to go or stay, I sat on the floor my calves against the cool hard floor of the station, writing in my notebook while Mary went foraging for a coffee. I suddenly heard a man say “Hello, mama,” and I looked up. The man asked where I was going and where was I from. He left but after Mary returned, he came back with 3 packages of “lunch” for us - glutinous rice cakes and warm soy milk. In return, Mary gave him the Canadian decoration from her handbag and he seemed very pleased with that.
Miriam arrived and seemed not to want anything to do with us, stayed at a distance except for a moment during which I took the opportunity to introduce her and our benefactor, John, a Baptist minister who could recite scripture and count in Aramaic. When Jenn and Den arrived, they also stayed at a distance --- For Mary and me, it was an unexpected adventure of interacting with a local person in a friendly way.... but the others seemed horrified. Miriam figured people thought we were begging or homeless.
Upstairs in a Korean barbecue, we sat on the heated floor. A waiter started a round barbecue set in the table at each end of the table. We cooked black pork belly meat and ate it with a great array of side dishes, rice and soup at the end.

Dennis, Miriam, Jenn, Mary in Korean barbecue restaurant

permalink written by  chertop on November 6, 2010 from Seoul, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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From Fukuoka, Japan to Busan, Ulsan and Seoul, South Korea

Seoul, South Korea

Up early November 5 for a 8am flight to Seoul, we rose into clouds and descended into Seoul's milky smog a scant 40 minutes later. The several subway rides, with transfers, from Gimpo domestic airport into the city took at least twice that long. By 2:30pm we had hauled our luggage along urban streets, checked into the Ramada, had coffee and bought tickets to ride more subways, an intimidating process of first finding one's destination on the intricately complicated map of subway lines (most info in Korean script) and then inserting adequate money for the machine to spit out tickets. At the end of the trip, assuming you have survived the jaws of the turnstile trying to snag you captive, you feed your ticket into another machine and receive whatever change you are due as refund.

Jennifer and Mary on subway train

Finally getting to explore the market streets, we found beautiful handmade paper made into cards with appliqued doll figures, silk covered pencil boxes, pashmina scarves, huge stone carvings from Laos and Cambodia in an antiques shop. In the middle of the sidewalk some men in bright red garb rolled out sheets of something like rice crispy bars and then cut it with a cleaver against a straight edge. Mary and I stopped to watch candy makers take a glob of honey and dip it into cornstarch, then stretch it, dip it again into the cornstarch, double it and stretch it again. Every time they doubled it over they would double their count of strands - 2, 4, 8, 16, 32,...256. When Japanese visitors stopped to watch, the men began counting in Japanese also. After they had a multitude of small strands, they would break off a length of 4-5 inches, place a spoonful of almond paste in the center of one end, and wrap the strands into a roll. One of them beckoned me to a side and gave me one to taste - a strangely floury texture around the almond nugget.

Mary photographing at multi-storey mall

Mary and I ventured down numerous narrow, often crooked lanes off the main road - street vendors selling jewelery and souvenirs, tea houses, old houses with tile roofs and walls made with broken tiles embedded in mortar. One elegant Tea Museum had an entire wall of different types of tea - chrysanthemum, persimmon, rooibos - as well as beautiful, individual tea bowls, each with a glaze that invites you to turn it around and around in your hands, admiring the color variations of the glaze, the particularities of the shape, and the personality of the bowl.
After two more crowded subways during rush hour, and a welcome shower back at our hotel, I luxuriated in curling up on the sofa in the 14th floor lounge, having a beer with Mary, Miriam, Jenn and Dennis. Mary and I stayed when the others went out to dinner, making a supper of the hors d'oeuvres - soup, sushi, oysters, and a delicious, subtle-flavored steamed Chinese custard with mushrooms and other delicate vegetables embedded in it. Back in our room, we looked out on the city lights, especially a distant wall of irregular, ever-changing vertical neon colors in an always changing rainbow of hues.

permalink written by  chertop on November 5, 2010 from Seoul, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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By Hydrofoil to South Korea

Pusan, South Korea

November 4 Thursday
After the precious coffee at Gratie bakery and a few of their delicious pastries, we packed up. The young woman at the Fukuoka hostel took our photo just before Mary and I got into the taxi (she is going to put it on their website) and headed to the International Port for our hydrofoil to Korea. The numerous bureaucratic procedures, fuel surcharge, and the cost of departure tax had me wondering why anyone would purchase the weekend round-trip tickets, in spite of their being cheaper than our tickets for a longer stay. We boarded the Beetle, an enclosed pod that slipped out of the harbor and skimmed softly and smoothly but speedily over the blue water, past steeply rising island mountains, under a brilliant blue sky. It was surprising how fast we were traveling - a ferry journey of 8 hours took us less than three.

As we approached the skyline of Busan port, the sky was milky white. Jennifer and Miriam, Dennis' mother, met us and Jenn drove us through the city until, in a small lane, a man rushed out and ushered Jenn's car down a narrow, pedestrian-crowded street to the entrance to a parking garage. Jenn stopped the car and we piled out, leaving the parking to a valet.

Walking the market streets, we saw squid hanging in curtains of tentacles, chestnuts roasting in a churning mass of black coals, decorative socks, Korean silk. At a small upstairs restaurant, we ate bulgogi - which came as a bowl of various colorful ingredients - strips of marinated beef together with vegetables, rice - dark, white, green and red... which you mix together into a delicious combination.
Walking market streets back to the car, I was interested in the stores selling luggage of all sizes and shapes because the zipper on mine had jammed. But prices were not Third World! Reluctantly I admitted that I could get a better price on luggage in Bennington!


Mary on steps

We drove back to Ulsan on very modern expressways with tolls, about an hour's trip, past a lot of industry (including the huge Hyundai plant) to Jenn's condo in a high rise. There her little Boston terrier had an energetic frenzy of greeting us, sniffing, and gnashing the dog toy Mary had brought him.

Jennifer took us to a Korean cafe where we had a typical and delicious lunch of beef strips, vegetables and egg on a bowl of rice. Then, on the hour's drive back to Ulsan, we got an idea of the intensity of traffic, the extent of industrialization in South Korea.


permalink written by  chertop on November 4, 2010 from Pusan, South Korea
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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Karatsu Kunchi festival - Cultural Day

Karatsu, Japan

November 3 Cultural Day throughout Japan
After Gratie coffee and egg pizza plus chewy cranberry bun, we walked to the main bus terminal where we bought tickets to Karatsu, miraculously catching a bus at the gate 32, the closest one, due to leave in less than 10 minutes. Leaving Fukuoka, we passed its enormous suspension bridge, beaches, harbors along the water. Apartment buildings gave way to traditional Japanese houses set amongst rice paddies, perfectly rectangular vegetable farm lots, and greenhouses.
Reaching Karatsu in about 70 minutes, we descended into a crowded city where the sound of drums drew us towards nearby narrow streets where huge floats were being drawn by long ropes, children at the front end, adult men closer to the floats themselves. At the corner the float suddenly swung around at a right angle.
After watching a half dozen floats pulled by teams in identically colored traditional garb (hapi coats with leggings and zori sandals), we let the crowd carry us down the street.... past an amazing array of food stalls and souvenirs for sale. Much of the crowd was surging into the approach to the temple. We skirted around side streets and were deciphering a poster in Japanese about the festival's schedule when a young woman approached us and led us to the beach. She was there for the festiva lwith her parents, all from Tendai. When we found the floats, they were arriving in a crowded, sandy square, swinging violently around yet another corner to be lined up 7 facing 7. Children were emerging from inside the floats as well as climbing on them to be photographed by parents. Men in traditional garb who had been pulling the floats were beating the drums or climbing to the highest point on the floats like king of the castle.
Officially uniformed police controlling the crowd smiled but obliged when I asked about where were toilets. We found port-a-potties with 2 stalls for women, each with a door, plus an open stall with a urinal for men and a fourth stall for hand washing. Sitting in the shade, we made a lunch, and had a rest, with trail mix, chocolate and water.
Rejoining the crowd, many sitting on the curb waiting for the afternoon parade of the 14 floats back to their owner shops, we made our way to the train station and information booth where an English speaking staffperson answered our questions about Karatsu pottery. Her instructions sent us down streets to the canal, across it by bridge and along a narrow residential road until we emerged on a busy street full of partytime pachinko (slot machine/pinball) parlors and neon funhouses with names like “Lucky Day.”
On the corner was a pottery gallery of extremely expensive works by the most famous potter of the region, a glorious collection of tea ceremony cups, sake vessels, flower vases --- irregular shapes, earthy surfaces, glazes of infinite variations – the kind of vessel you turn around and around, admiring every side. The elegant, black clad woman bid us two scruffy foreigners welcome, pointed out some aspects of the pottery and graciously allowed me to make some photos.
Returning along the lane, where painted tiles were set among the brick cobblestones, we explored the path veering off, a narrow path into a compact neighborhood of tranquil, traditional Japanese homes and gardens, small and perfect, with trained pine trees, hanging white blossoms, climbing morning glory flowers.... and huge golden striped spiders in webs against the sky... blessed peace and quiet after the noise and crowds of the festival.
Back at the canal, we watched two cranes fishing in the shallow water, watched the small fish glint in the sun as they turned, flashing their bright bellies. Osprey and buzzards soared overhead on the wind currents.
We queued for the 5:30pm bus and road into darkness back to Fukuoka's lights - multicolored in the night. Walked from the bus station to the Umauma ramen shop where we sat at the counter having beer, pork ramen and fried gwazu..all delicious, especially the broth which was rich with marrow flavor. The black clad young men frying gwazu, dishing up the ramen, and washing dishes got a kick out of our enjoyment and our attempts at Japanese, just as we were entertained watching their busy rapid-fire cooking and washing up.
We walked back, under the train track, colorful graffiti on the tunnel walls and to the hostel, another marvelous adventure of a day.

permalink written by  chertop on November 3, 2010 from Karatsu, Japan
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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Gift of a day in Fukuoka with Professor Nagano

Hakata, Japan

November 2
Woke during the night several times and had to climb down the ladder but amazingly slept until 7:30am (both Mary and I blessedly spared the worst of jet lag). Going up to the 3rd floor kitchen to make coffee, I met 5 sisters from the Netherlands traveling together. Then a German woman trying to book a flight from Tokyo to Bangkok asked our help with the Internet; she is on a year-long world trip, having divorced after 27 years of marriage because she no longer loves the man ... so chose to seek and follow her own desires. At the bakery “Gratie” on the main street, we encountered an artistic array of beautiful pastries and free coffee so delicious that I drank it black.
We walked down the busy main drag to Hakata railway station seeking an ATM which we had been told we could find in a convenience store but those ATMs were Japanese language only. Used our map to find the main bank of the Fukuoka bank where, at the “Foreign Exchange” we laboriously tried to explain that we wanted to use our bank or credit cards to get money. Not possible we learned (rather disconcerting as we have not only found our money evaporating quickly but our credit card not accepted even in places like the Fukuoka accommodation where I'd used my credit card to reserve our room). So each of us was exchanging US dollars cash when a retired Japanese man came over and asked if he could help us. Not only did he interface and translate with the bank staff whose English was almost as limited as our Japanese but he took us to the post office where our cards worked - a big relief. As we waited I showed him the places we intended to visit today and asked his opinion.
He even offered and kindly accompanied us the to Kuniyoshi temple

Festival float, Kushida shrine
where he explained so much of what goes on, how one dips and pours water over one's hands and rinses one's mouth for ritual cleanliness before approaching the shrine, how one bows twice and claps the hands twice then bows again and pulls down on the thick cord, ringing the bell to let the gods know one is there.

Prof Nagano and Mary examine her fortune
He showed us where to obtain our fortune on a small paper, in English, and indicated where to toss a coin through the grate. At the side, was a shop with an array of beautiful good luck charms and tokens which he explained Japanese buy to avoid trouble, carrying these good luck tokens on their person, or in their cars.

Mary and bonsai, Kushida shrine

He then guided us an a walk through the very hip and chic covered arcade of stylish small shops, where everything was so compact, and then out into the downtown of skyscrapers and other huge, architecturally innovative buildings, where everything was, in contrast, so expansive. Swarms of pedestrians and of bicycles on the sidewalks were going both ways yet avoiding the seemingly inevitable crashes. Everyone waits at the intersection for the traffic light, no one jaywalking; and at the Walk signal, a melody plays to indicate aurally that it is safe to cross --- the most memorable to us was “Coming through the Rye.”
He took us across the city by taxi to Fukuoka's “Central Park” where we first encountered the foundations or the enormous ruined castle, and were astounded at the huge scale.

Prof Nagano and Mary climb steps to Fukuoka castle ruins
Walking and climbing to the high point of the castle ruins, we rested above the city looking out on the modernity, the harbor, baseball dome, tower, and the mountains of Kyushu. Then we descended into the park with its Chinese style low curving bridges over the vast pond and its scarlet pavilions, its paddle boats in the shape of swans, its tree-lined causeway a walking path across the middle of the pond.
The park was such a welcome and restful contrast to the intensity of the city, to which we returned, refreshed, by taxi to Sumiyoshi Shrine which was a brilliant, brilliant orange, with palaquins in boat shapes resting in the courtyard.

Mary photographing floral display at Sumiyoshi shrine
Our Japanese friend showed us where sumo wrestlers practice in early morning just outside the shrine. And the subtle classical building where No theatre is performed. Hearing the drum beat as darkness fell, we returned to the shrine and were so fortunate to watch the Shinto priest conduct a ceremony of bowing repeatedly, chanting from a scroll, waving a white tassled standard, and turning to all directions to bow and bow again even more deeply.
At the park, where our Japanese friend had planned to leave us, I repeated my thanks once again and offered my name card with my invitation for him and his wife to visit us in Vermont should their world travels take them there. I had made cards for both Mary and me and she also offered hers with her own invitation for Calgary.
Not only was the Sumiyoshi shrine a further treat, especially when unexpectedly it was lit at night, a glowing orange, but our friend took us finally to his favorite izakaya restaurant, an underground refuge of elegant Japanese simplicity. Especially after all his kindness and numerous taxis, Mary and I wanted to invite him, but he repeated that he wanted to pass on the kindness he had received in Canada and the US on his various trips to conferences as an agricultural irrigation engineer. He ordered Mary a beer and me a sake, then many small dishes beautifully presented, finally rice with nori (seaweed) and into which we placed a pickled plum and poured in green tea for a beautiful digestive end to an exquisite meal. A very leisurely dining with conversation, sharing, some jokes and laughter. After 3 beers, he laughed easily but, had no intention of driving home...instead we three walked...his office was on the same street as our hostel, Mary and I continuing down the street further after our goodbyes.

permalink written by  chertop on November 2, 2010 from Hakata, Japan
from the travel blog: Japan and South Korea 2010
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