A Passage on the Voyeur-Vagabond

“…Travel returns us in just this way to sharpness of notice; and to be saturated in the sight of what is entirely new–the sun at an unaccustomed slope, stretched across the northland, separate from the infiltrating dusk that always seems about to fall through clear gray Stockholm–is to revisit the enigmatically lit puppet-stage outlines of childhood: those mental photographs and dreaming woodcuts or engravings that we retain from our earliest years. What we remember from childhood we remember forever–permanent ghosts, stamped, imprinted, eternally seen. Travelers regain this ghost-seizing brightness, eeriness, firstness.

They regain is because they have cut themselves loose from their own society, from every society; they are, for a while, floating vagabonds, like astronauts out for a space walk on a long free line. They are subject to preternatural exhilarations, absurd horizons, unexpected forms and transmutations: the matter-of-fact (a battered old stoop, say, or the shape of a door) appears beautiful; or a stone that at home would not merit the blink of your eye here arrests you with its absolute particularity–just because it is what your hand already intimately knows. You think: a stone, a stone! They have stones here too! And you think: how uncannily the planet is girdled, as stone-speckled in Sweden as in New York. For the vagabond-voyeur (and for travelers voyeurism is irresistible), nothing is not for notice, nothing is banal, nothing is ordinary: not a rock, not the shoulder of a passer-by, not a teapot.”

~~~from “The Shock of Teapots,” by Cynthia Ozick

Summer in Siheung – 여름

Proverb of the Post: 콩 심은데 콩나고, 팥 심은데 팥난다 — Kong simeundae kongnago, pat simeundae pat nanda
“Beans come out from where beans are planted, and padd (red beans) come out from where red beans are planted.”

I think an absence from the cyber world for 2 months calls for a long updates post no one will read, don’t you? At least this means I’m living life. If only I had the dedication to write consistently as well.

When last I wrote, it was an average of 50 degrees F and I was growing sick of my limited sweaters. Now my dashboard reads 80 degrees and sunny, with only a touch of humidity. After months of scarves and heavy jackets, I’m reveling in the sunshine. Though, still–bad day to wear pants to the café.

I’m of the opinion that one should move to a foreign country in the summer, because dealing with the stifling and suffocating winter on top of culture shock is liable to drive anyone to — le gasp! — reruns. This is why cabin fever is a dangerous thing kids.

Summer has been gentle toward us coastal crabs, allotting sunshine, heat, and plenty activities as the festival atmosphere pervades through Seoul. Hello again much beloved languid weekends. I’ve even found a cute café just across Jeongweong Station, 5 minutes from my flat. It’s open, airy, with large sliding glass windows and doors, and an upstairs balcony where tiny French windows decorate the walls.

Summer has encouraged me to explore more. In May, saw the Lotus Lantern Festival in Seoul, the parade at Jongno, where they had numerous of huge lanterns on wheels, elaborately crafted in the shapes of elephants, pagodas, dragons, and lotus flowers. And groups of sponsors, musicians, dancers, schoolchildren holding up their tiny paper lanterns as well. At Bongeunsa temple by the COEX Mall, they had an exhibition of thousands of colorful paper lanterns strung like a canopy over the courtyards, to celebrate Buddha’s birthday. Lots of foreigners armed with impressive photographer’s tools.

Checked out an International Boat Festival on Daebu-do, a vineyard-laden island, off the coast of Oido. Met some interesting Koreans and Australians, sucked down spicy noodles, and touched 5,000-year-old pottery. Oh she of small history-geekery pleasures. Wandered down an immense mudflat and almost lost my sandals to those gray crustacean gods of the mire turf. Turns out their weaknesses are a hose and a team of barefoot grade schoolers.

Other news: These past seven weeks I have been taking intensive Salsa dance classes. It is immensely invigorating and has led the way to meeting new kinds of foreigners and cool Koreans outside of the work environment. The atmosphere is great, chill, amateur– people just coming together to dance for a few hours. On Friday nights there’s an open all-class mini-party, where students from all levels can come and dance together. It’s especially fun to dance with advanced level men with slippery feet and confident grips. They have the aplomb and patience to assist me in practicing my beginner moves and in teaching me new tricks. I find I am consistently humbled by their sympathy with my stumbling steps. The two class teachers are equally as gentle, kind, and considering of the beginners’ awkward techniques. I, for one, am having an amazing time, I always feel galvanized and positive after dancing, though I do wish I had the endurance to dance for 4 hours, instead of 2. For now, however, I’m shocked that I haven’t dropped the class — as I have a habit of wandering in and out of hobbies like a coquettish Jade of All Trades.

Maybe it’s a change in the winds.

A few weeks ago, I traveled to Gangnam with some friends to see the Cirque du Soleil during their Varekai tour. It was their last day in Seoul, and I was absolutely stunned by the performances. Avid advocate, right here. The performance was funny, charming, mysterious, and captivating, incorporating a blend of balancing acts, aerial arts, juggling, clowning, and even a loose storyline–which particularly surprised me.

Also visited the Noryangjin fish market, a monstrous seafood market held within a massive warehouse right on the Han River. The floor was saturated in fishy juices, running down grates between the stalls. There were stacks of dead eels and sunfish, and lobsters clinging to each other in blue tanks. Fishermen wave you over in their aprons and rainboots, climbing onto these tanks like hopping crabs on a beach.

A great experience was the Fermentation Festival, an expat-run tasting event of various fermenting foods. In the Haebeongcheon district (by Itaewon), dozens of vendors had set up their products and offering samples — from salsa and hard cider to locally brewed beers and tzatziki. I had the chance to explore the foreigners’ streets, full of bakeries and bistros and pizzerias, neighborhoods I thought I’d never see in Korea. Surprise, surprise.

The highlight of my month, however, was my trip outside of Seoul to the eastern coast, to the seaside city of Sokcho and the impressive mountains of Seoraksan. I want to really do that story justice, however, to it’s another post for another time.