The Real South Korea

As of this writing (at 7 p.m.) this seems the never-ending day, probably because it kind of has been. Normally, when you get out of bed at 4 a.m., bedtime can't come soon enough. However, we are so pumped up to see as many things as possible over our six week stay that sleep is afterthought; we have places to go, things to see and do.


We're out the door by 4:15 a.m. to head down to the big lawn in front of the red library. The streets seems strangely silent, save for the occasional bursts of "Ooh," and "Aah" from the dorms where students are huddled watching the South Korea - Nigeria FIFA match. For the few who are on the streets at this hour, such as the bicycle couriers with the big carrying cases attached behind their seats, I'm sure we cut a rather conspicuous swath, our large Canadian bodies clad in flaming red Korean soccer jerseys. Rob sports a Korean Legend model and I'm wearing one with the motto, "Korea - Shout of Victory!" featuring a slant eyed red devil.


As we draw nearer to the site, we are confused by the silence. We round the corner to see an empty field. Nada. Nothing. Not a single Korean reveller. We wander around for a moment wondering exactly where we went wrong. Rob's red devil horns blink hopefully; there must be a party somewhere! This is a make-or-break match.


Rob wants to continue searching the campus, but I suggest we make some inquiries with the group in the silver compact car parked across the street in front of the student union building. We think they must be listening to the game because, as we head over, they yelp for joy! (We later learn that Korea has just tied the game 2-2. For the record, the tie allows Korea to advance to the next round.)


Luckily, these kids speak English. The young woman in the driver's seat tells us the event was cancelled. We later learn it was moved downtown. As she's speaking, we notice a 5 x 7 inch GPS screen on the dash of her car, on which she and three passengers are watching the game. They generously ask us if we'd like to join them. We eye the small back seat already filled with two teensy-weensy Asian bottoms, and recognize that we might have fit in back when we were fetuses, but sure wouldn't now. We thank them, and decide to head back to the apartment to catch the rest of the game. Before we leave, a young man leaps from the car and offers to take several pictures. We end up with some beautiful shots of all of us, huddled together in the wee hours of the morning around a tiny screen, taking in an important moment in Korean sports history.


The Lord truly does provide. While we've missed out on the spectacle, we decide we've experienced something even better. We've seen South Korea in a microcosm. We've had the opportunity to enjoy an important cultural moment in an intimate environment with a group of young people who represent the hope and pride of a nation. It's yet another unforgettable, entirely impromptu delight in a trip already chocked full of them.


We manage to grab a quick forty winks before the day begins in earnest. Today, when we play the guessing game in class, my students guess that I have three pigs, rather than three dogs, as pets. I wonder if this is more to do with my dearth of artistic skills, or a different understanding about pets. There are many stragglers, and a lot of very sleepy expressions to start the day as most of us got up to watch the game. Still, the momentum builds, and another class ends with loud applause. (Or maybe they were just happy to see the end of it!)


For lunch, Rob and I are treated to Korean spaghetti, which, as it turns out, is better than most I've had at Italian restaurants. This dish is served with a simple sauce of chopped tomatoes with some fried ground pork. There's yet another type of kimchi; this one is made with some sort of heavy duty cucumber. Dessert is toast with that addictive plum jam (Mother of God, is it good!) and an otherworldly green apple cold broth. Later, when elderly sidewalk vendor prompts us to buy ice cream, I stick my belly out and rub it while shaking my head, no. She breaks into laughter and wishes us well.


In the afternoon we purchase Rob a pair of prescription glasses for 72,000 won, or under 70-dollars Canadian, and this includes the cost of the eye examination! They're an old school horn rimmed pair that Rob and I choose independent of one another. They look very much like the kind Rob's dearly departed, and much beloved, father wore when Rob was growing up. While the purchase is necessary, the sentimental value alone is worth it. The optician says they'll be ready in ten minutes. (Say what?!) Then she apologizes profusely for she discovers that she'll need to order another lens, and we'll have a longer wait. Now it'll take two hours! We are incredulous, since we're these designer prescription glasses would easily cost triple to quadruple the price in Canada. (And for those who console themselves thinking it's probably a cheaper product, it isn't. The lens and frame are both top of the line.)


From there, we take a cab to the Gwangju Folk Museum. For only the second time on this trip, we are shortchanged. The cabbie charges us 4 thousand won for a 3 thousand won ride. I debate whether to point out the discrepancy, but decide it's a minor sum, and the trip was well worth it, so I smile, exit, and we head up the walkway to the museum... which is closed on Wednesdays! We have a good laugh, and decide this presents a great opportunity to investigate a new section of our Bukgu neighbourhood. We stroll the museum grounds and take pictures, and then head for the main street.


Children are getting out of school, and we pass a good many of them on the crowded sidewalks. Several stop to try out their English. One bespectacled young lad formally stretches out his hand for a shake and says, "Hello. How are you today? Where are you from?" Young James is a very composed and mature 7 year old, and when walks away he says, "See you later." Moments earlier, a fruit vendor leaped before us and struck up a conversation using the identical terminology. We consider the possibility that these stock phrases are the focus in English classes. The vendor is a real surprise, because he's almost of our vintage, and he's a labourer, and therefore less likely to have had English lessons. He is extremely proud to display his knowledge, and encourages his buddy to jump in, but the other man smiles shyly and turns away.


While we love our end of Bukgu, the shops in the area clearly cater to the international university crowd. It's foreign, but there are still signs of the world at large. But this, this is our kind of 'hood. Zero pretense, and for the most part, absolutely authentically old style Korean. Old women crouch down amidst ground level buckets of fruit and vegetables for sale. They labour in the heat, peeling garlic and slicing foot-long long lengths of leafy greens, rarely looking up from their work. Physical therapists should study these old gals to see how they manage to maintain such superlative muscle strength and flexibility, because that information would be invaluable to out-of-shape North Americans.


We pop into one of the few non-authentic Korean place, primarily because we need a place to sit down for a moment, and they have chairs. Tous Les Jours is an ersatz French bakery chain that's all the rage in Gwangju. We pick up one of our favourites, a package of these crunchy, rich, soya bean chips, and a type of cake that looks like a Twinkie but defies description. It's an extremely buttery, light, yellow cake, and for 1,000, it's a steal. It's so decadent that we split it. This little gem will be in my dreams for years to come!


Then it's back to the curb for the ride home. The old codge cabbie, listening to the The Baby Elephant Walk on his radio, manages to move from the curb, across a couple of lanes of traffic, in one fell swoop. He twists and turns as he races through streets and back lanes. He is elated to hear that we are Canadians, rather than Americans. When I try to engage him a little more, he gestures to Rob pinching his fingers and thumb together rapidly and says, "Ladies. They talk, talk, talk!" We roar with laughter!


It's an uncustomarily quiet evening in the apartment before lights out at 10.