How to Fritter Away a Day

It's noon hour, and we're on a bus to the Gwangju train station. That's not our ultimate destination; we're actually looking for a nearby second hand charity shop we've heard is pretty cool.


The sound system is blasting out some weird version of the omnipresent Village People hit, YMCA. This incarnation is a combination of techno and some strange klezmer, or traditional Jewish folk music. It's actually pretty catchy.


Our sources have been accurate. The second hand Beautiful store is very easy to find, and does, indeed, have some neat stuff. It's not the mega-mart style place common in Canada; it's the size of an average North American living room. For someone who is colour-blind, and fashion challenged, husband does his usual amazing job of finding a very expensive and classy tie, this time made by Guess, for 1,000 won. I pick up a nifty taupe shell, and a funky, cap-sleeved, beige and taupe A line shirt-dress. We also find a Gwangju Foreign Soccer School T-shirt and a CD of Queen's Night at the Opera. Total bill: 10,000 won, or about eight bucks.


We decide to pop into the train station for a look, because it's from here that we'll probably be leaving for Seoul on Monday. The place, like the bus depot, is spotless, spacious, and upscale with nice shops and eating establishments. Koreans must be absolutely horrified when they use public transportation facilities in North America, because they look nothing like these places.


Lunch happens in a shop across the street, where we feast on noodle soup and fried dumplings. While it's being prepared, I glance over to the kitchen to see the cook crouching down, draining the noodles through a colander that's sitting on the floor. If this happened in Canada, I'd be tempted to walk out, but oddly enough, this doesn't even phase me. It's about time and place. Things are done a little differently throughout the world, and if one gets picky, or takes an ingrained sense of superiority along for the journey, one might as well just stay at home and lock the doors.


We catch a number 7 bus to Geumnamro station, not far from the GIC. We look in some shops, and escape the heat by visiting the subway below. Others seem to have had this same idea, because the place is packed. Groups include several dozen elderly men who have gathered to play board games and stretch out in the open spaces on the cool, concrete floor.


It strikes me that this heat must be unbearable for the elderly, especially given their aversion to air-conditioning. We're back on the bus now, where I see an older lady sitting before me, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she's melting into the plastic seat. She calmly closes her eyes, and enters a Zen-like state, while the sun pummels her through the window. I want to take her home to the apartment and offer her a cool drink. I want to suggest she remove her thick socks, blouse, shirt, and heavy skirt, and walk around in something lighter. But I look around and realize that she's dressed like every grandmother on the bus.


We disembark near our apartment, and I pass the four foot by eight foot shoe repair shack on the sidewalk outside our Quickie Mart. Sure enough, the old shoe repairman is curled up inside, fully dressed in a T-shirt and pants. Two other seniors have just emerged from this same shack. The man's friend has grabbed a seat outside. He tries to fan himself a bit, but realizes it's in vain, and gives up in exasperation. The shoe repairman's wife, in her socks and slippers, is walking past us on the sidewalk, and despite the growing distance, they're all continuing their conversation, just increasing the volume.


The late afternoon brings a crashing thunderstorm, complete with torrential rains. Rob and I sleep through much of it. It's still raining at 8 PM when we head out for dinner. As we walk to Sang Dae, three young women emerge from the District 9 apartments, and one skips in the rain as the other two merrily giggle.

We stop at a couple of different restaurants, but have difficulty discerning the items on the menus. It's been seven hours since our last meal, and we're so hungry we settle on our nearby favourite pork place. This time, we somehow end up with a different type of pork, the super thick cut bacon with bone style the Koreans prize for its thick fat. We wash our meal down with soju and beer, and practically float out of the place.

Feeling a bit buzzed, we stop at a convenience store and pick up some munchies: sweet crunchy twists and strawberry cream filled cookies. These treats are washed down with decaffeinated instant coffee as we enjoy our night time reading. Rob's asleep by 10. Although I've already torn through The White Tiger, which now is now on my list of all time favourites, I pick up an anthology of travel stories and manage to fritter away a couple of hours before turning in at midnight.