Ogres: A Matter of Perception

What's the deal with Omar Sharif?! Though pushing 80, this actor, bon vivant, and world-class bridge player is still hot stuff in Korea. When he's not engaging in fisticuffs with parking lot attendants and police officers, he's authorizing the trademark "Omar Sharif of Paris" for use on everything from towels, to toiletry products, to stationary. Today, he's on TV, in a movie from the last decade or so, and he's still looking impossibly handsome!

I open the balcony doors to see a sheet of rain still pouring down. The balcony floor is under an inch of water as the drains at either corner struggle to keep up with the flow. I take the now soaked clothes that have been hanging on the line to air out, and haul them into the apartment. One cannot overstate the importance of bringing along airwick/quick dry clothing on a trip to Korea.

There's so much rain water that the lawn, and the park across the street, are submerged under great lakes where Mother Nature is quickly doing her work. As if overnight, these aquariums have fostered the development of new life. At first, I search around for geese. The honking is so loud, it reminds me of being cornered in the chicken house at the old family farm by our flock of recalcitrant, truculent geese who were so big when I saw six, they could look me in the eye.

On our afternoon walk, Rob and I figure out what is really making the sound. We are not hearing birds, but frogs, and lots of them. These amphibians don't trill like the frogs in the lakes of Kenora, nor do they deeply "ribbit" like the bullfrogs imported into, and now overtaking the waterways, of central and southern Ontario. No, they actually honk. The sound is impressive, both in terms of volume and verbosity. It's hard to believe that such a small creature can produce such a big sound.

En route to lunch, Rob brings me up to speed regarding his temple trip. The monks were, not surprisingly, informative, wise, and kind. We wish the same could be said of some of the guests. Case in point: One of the American guests, Sharon, complained about many things during the stay, but truly topped herself during a restaurant stop. The tour group was taken to a place known for it's special soups. This woman flatly refused to eat the soup, and left it to someone from the program to solve this dilemma for her. An underling was put in the uncomfortable position of having to pick up kimbap at a restaurant next door, and bring it into the soup place. With disdain, Sharon pushed away her soup bowl when served, forcing the server to ferret it away. I would suggest this is outrageously rude in any culture.

This same woman professes to be a vegetarian, though she eats chicken and fish. Huh? Rob is a true vegetarian, but recognizing the social discomfort of refusing offerings from hosts in a country that is big on meat, he has made adjustments for the visit. Though this woman needn't go that far, it would be nice if she could be just a touch more thoughtful. When I first met Sharon, I was curious about her Coke bottle thick glasses, and wondered how bad her vision must be. When she takes off these glasses, she can scarcely see out of her eyes that are the size of pin heads. Well, the mystery is solved, and her blindness is more than ocular in nature.

Rob and I trot over to our dumpling spot, and in addition to the pork dumplings and rice buns, we add kimchi dumplings. The young cook, in his Eminem T-shirt, is ever so happy to see repeat customers. We gobble up every single morsel, exchange pleasantries in both of our languages, and head home to get a little work done.

For dinner, I throw together a beef stirfry and soba noodles with onions. We eat like Koreans, using chopsticks to dig into the sizzling pan. As mentioned in a previous posting, I do feel this is a tradition worthy of carrying home to Canada. I'm also hoping to continue the habit of walking several hours per day, or get the equivalent exercise, to compensate for all the decadently delicious meals.

Although we're both quite tired, we decide to take in the 11 p.m. showing of Shrek, Forever After. Though it's kind of considered a kid's movie, we like the plucky little ogre. We pick up our "Lovers Meal" which includes two drinks, and a large box popcorn. This box contains about 6 cups, as opposed to the trough of large popcorn in North American theatres.

Cinus Theatre is in a narrow, seven story building, and we catch an elevator to the fourth floor. As the doors open, a perky young lass greets us, and indicates that we should sit down on the bench. We are ushered to our assigned seats mere moments before the showing. The floors are carpeted, and they're spotless. The seats are comfy, and the air conditioning is reasonable. Normally, when I go to theatres, I wear big sweaters in preparation for a glacial blast. This time, my sweater is on my lap.

There are only about eight people in the theatre. Rob suggests it might be due to the fact that it's in English with Korean subtitles. I think it might be because it's rather late on a Sunday evening. Silly me. When we exit the theatre at 12:45 a.m., the streets are still teeming with shoppers and people going out for coffee. It's like Montreal at 3 a.m. on a weeknight. This is a difficult concept for a prairie farm gal to grasp!

By 1:30 a.m., looking like Shrek and his wife, Fiona, we flop down for a deep, dreamless, sleep.