One Hell of a Hangook Weekend

Ever since I walked to the grocery store on Thursday evening and was greeted by 2Pac’s “California Love,” blasted both inside and out of our local Pruen Mart, I knew this was going to be one hell of a Korean weekend.

My love of Korea had been tested lately by a few things. Our trip to New Zealand, already described in enough detail for you to see that I’m obsessed, was so good that it was hard to come back to real life at the end. The weather here has finally become heinous, with cold temperatures, colder winds, and fewer blue-sky days than the Korean autumn and early winter had given me to expect. And finally, the Korean language, which I claimed regularly to love last year, deserted me while I was traveling in English-speaking lands. I came back more tongue-tied and speechless than I was back in October, and that was a let down.

However, things are looking up. Friday evening, after enjoying the KIS basketball double-header (girls won, boys lost), we headed out to the local Jokey Jokey (조끼 조끼) for what was intended to be an early evening: a couple of beers and a few rounds of Euchre with Ryan and Jolene. Our modest plans caused us to make one major mistake – we didn’t bring the camera (note the generic stolen-from-the-Internet pictures). One kiwi-flavored soju and pitcher of Cass led to another, but around 11, after a good card game interspersed with the exciting spectacles of a belligerent Korean who had to be tamed by the wait staff and a brazen ajumma who tried to challenge me to drinking games, we were ready for bed. However, we were thwarted in our plans of moderation by four Korean guys who invited us to one of many local Noraebangs (노래방): Korean karaoke.

The Korean landscape is littered with noraebangs – they are as ubiquitous as plain little restaurants, and cause us just as frequently as those to wonder how they all stay in business. The one we visited, a ten minute walk from the Jokey Jokey, was practically deserted. The eight of us were given a private room (Korean karaoke, like the Japanese equivalent, consists of private rooms rather than the all-bar experience common to American karaoke), where we spent a couple of hours trying to outdo each other in Korean and English singing. These guys spoke more or less no English – our Korean may have even been better than their English – but they knew enough to join in song a couple of times, particularly when I was singing Roxanne and Purple Rain (it helped to drown out my atrocious voice). Jolene kept time with a tambourine, we were introduced to several precious Korean ballads, Ryan treated us to Bon Jovi, and Chris crooned the Elvis and Neil Diamond classics at which he is so expert. A bonus to Korean karaoke is that, after you sing, you receive a score of up to 100 points. I was proud of Chris for scoring 100 on at least one song.

Since we went to bed at 5 a.m. that night, there was little hope for a productive Saturday. We had plans to meet Anne, our Korean teacher, for dinner at 7:30, and had hoped to explore the area near the restaurant beforehand. We didn’t get on the bus until after 4, so we only had a little time to wander the streets, but we did manage to hit our first Korean Starbucks (courtesy of the $10 gift certificate I won at a school in-service – we still haven’t violated our rule of never visiting Starbucks unless it’s free) as well as the Young-Poon bookstore. We got the Philippines and Tibet lonely planet books – we are planning our next few trips with excitement; February break in the Philippines, April break in Vietnam, and a June trip to China / Tibet. I also updated my Korean literature in English collection. We walked most of the way to the meeting spot, but had to grab a taxi for the last stretch, and managed to patch together a decent English / Korean conversation with the driver about Korean and American politics.

Dinner at the Marisco seafood buffet was outstanding. Anne could not have chosen a better restaurant to suit both Chris’ and my taste: this was no ordinary buffet. Usually sushi buffets are disappointing in quality, but the sashimi and sushi rolls (including a greasy kimchi-and-bacon roll I tried for the first time) were great. And there were plenty of non-fish options for Chris. One of Anne’s friends joined us and did her best to force us to speak Korean. I think we held our own, but I’m hoping that dinner with Anne can become a monthly tradition, and maybe our Korean-to-English ratio can increase with every outing.

On top of the ample authentic Korean activities we enjoyed this weekend, we managed to talk to Jen, Geoff and Dana, Barb and Mark, Chris’s mom, my mom, Doug, and Wes and April on Skype. It was a communication marathon. Nothing leaves me happier than a weekend when I can talk to the people I love and take advantage of the country I live in. As far as grading papers and planning lessons, cleaning the house, or studying my Korean goes, well, hopefully I can take care of all of that during the week ahead.

Our Holiday in Middle-Earth: as usual, more details than you ever wanted

Well, I’ve put off the entry about our winter vacation for about as long as I can if I expect to retain any detail about New Zealand. I promised myself that instead of spending all afternoon obsessively searching airfares from Seattle to Seoul (Wes and April are coming in September!), I would finally devote some time to the blog. Not only did we like New Zealand enough to start asking about teaching shortages there after only a couple of days, we’ve also had some great times back in Korea since then, so we’re due for some serious blogging. I think that part of the reason I haven’t written this before now is because I was afraid if I sat down and started reminiscing about what Chris and I agree may have been the best trip we’ve ever taken, I would start feeling less content in the Seoul winterland, where the temperature has stopped exceeding 0 Celsius on many days, the sky is more often hazy white than blue, and worst of all I have to go to work five days a week instead of hiking in the mountains or wading in the surf. Don’t get me wrong: I like my job and I love Korea. But a three-week taste of paradise is enough to shake anyone’s faith in the daily grind, no matter how pampered their personal grind happens to be right now.

Mom asked me why we liked New Zealand so much. That it’s beautiful probably goes without saying – anyone who has seen the Lord of the Rings movies knows that. In truth, the natural beauty there is available in plenty of other places as well, notably in the U.S., where my mom would probably prefer me to look at teaching shortages. In New Zealand, though, the beauty is collected in a relatively tiny area, where you can drive from barren, gorgeous volcanic tundra to temperate rainforest to perfect beaches in less than a day. And also, it seems to me that many of those amazing places closer to home are threatened by overdevelopment and intense droves of tourists. We were told to anticipate the same in New Zealand, but we found that the kiwi reckoning of overdevelopment and the madding crowd is a little different from our own. Our trip coincided with New Zealand’s high season, when their tourist industry has hordes of foreigners like us as well as all the local vacationers to contend with: school is out for the summer holiday, and Christmas is said to mark the beginning of the standard travel season. We didn’t book anything ahead except for our rental car (a must for travelers who hope to see much of the country – and probably not much more expensive than using the bus system) and ferry crossings between north and south islands. And really, aside from a few nights around New Year’s and Christmas, we had no trouble finding good places to stay, great places to eat, and even spots on the reservation lists for the most popular hikes in the country. The people we met were uniformly kind and easy-going; traffic was minimal; and urbanization, which is limited in this nation of only a few true cities, seemed sensible and attractive with few exceptions.

I know I’m painting an idyllic picture, and I should include the negative along with the positive. The ozone layer barely exists at the poles, so that sun shines intensely, and a burn that would take days to earn in Florida can surprise you after one cloudy afternoon in NZ. There are no animals to speak of in New Zealand – the only native land mammals in the entire country are a few species of bat, and all the others (rabbits, deer, raccoons, etc.) are imports from Australia or Europe that have disrupted the ecosystem and threatened the rich native bird life. It was a happy novelty to be able to eat salami and cheese inside the tent one night when the bugs were bad without worrying about being devoured by bears later on, but sharing the forest with birds alone is ultimately a disappointment. Also, New Zealand is not cheap, even in the middle of nowhere. Gas prices are very high, and accommodation rates are comparable to the US. Restaurants, especially good ones, are more expensive than anywhere I’ve lived, except perhaps Seoul, but New Zealand doesn’t have the street-food alternatives we’re accustomed to here. And although the people we met were very good to us, we were taken aback to hear a surprising number of complaints by kiwis about tourists of other races – particularly Asians and ‘islanders,’ which we took to mean visitors from the nearby South Pacific islands. These minor negatives did not by any means outweigh the positive, and our 3-week snapshot of New Zealand would probably change dramatically were we to spend more time there: living there for a year or two, I think one would find the good deals that aren’t evident to vacationers, and I’m sure we would meet more than enough open-minded kiwis to offset the handful of mildly prejudiced ones we came across.

I should add that one of the most striking things about New Zealand for me was how much it reminded me of home. The southern-hemisphere plants and birds are a notable exception – these were pleasantly odd-looking from the very start – but culturally, New Zealand is about as homey as any place I’ve traveled, with the possible exception of Canada. The British colony with displaced native population formula seemed to work out in much the same way that it did in North America. The cities look familiar, architecturally, and so do many of the people. Of course, New Zealand didn’t have as much of a mix of European immigration as the US did, which may explain the fact that the standard kiwi body type seemed to be big and British, but it may just be that we’ve gotten used to the slender Koreans. At any rate, it was nice to feel skinny again for a change, although with the help of the ubiquitous New Zealand meat pie (flaky pastry filled with meat and gravy . . . mmmmmmm), I did everything I could in three weeks to acquire an authentic NZ waistline.

Instead of continuing my necessarily half-assed analysis of life and culture in New Zealand, I’ll limit the rest of this entry to a more concise description of the places we visited – the photos will do a better job than my blathering anyway. I know it’s dangerous to act like you know something about a country after spending only 3 weeks there, and I really don’t want anyone who reads this to think that I fancy myself some kind of an expert. I adored New Zealand and I know for certain that Chris and I will go back. I would love to spend a few years there someday if we found a way to make it financially viable. And anything negative I say about it is just my attempt to keep the travel journal from getting too starry-eyed and cloying – it is too easy to recur to words like utopian, pastoral and unspoiled when talking about this place.

We started out in the Bay of Islands, in the northeast of the North Island. This area is comprised of hundreds of tiny islands in beautiful clear water, and we spent a day sailing between the islands. We wandered around on one - more than anything, the islands reminded me of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, my favorite Narnia book when I was a kid. There were all these pristine, bright-green lumps surrounded by aquamarine sea, with no people in evidence other than our fellow sailors. It felt like we were at the end of the world, just like in CS Lewis' book, which probably had some Christian allegory woven in that I much prefer to ignore. Anyway, we stayed in the Bay of Islands for a couple of days recovering from the long flight, Chris's cold, and Cathay Pacific airlines' failure to deliver my luggage along with me. When we felt rested and the luggage had finally shown up, we headed south.

We drove down the west coast, stopping briefly to look at the giant Kauri trees - these have mostly been cut down, but the exotic-looking rainforest that contains a few of them was lovely, and we marked this as a place we'd like to return to the next time we're lucky enough to go to New Zealand. We ran into heavy rains on our way down the west coast, but driving in New Zealand - even on the left side of the road - is stress-free, and the rain didn't do much to deter our appreciation. After staying in Dargaville, we drove through Auckland and south to Tongariro National Park, near Lake Taupo in the southern part of the North Island. Chris has said he'd like to write an entry about Tongariro, so I'll just paste in a couple of photos and let him talk about this impressive area and the amazing 2 day/1 night hike we did there.

After Tongariro, we headed south to catch a ferry from Wellington to the South Island. We took a detour to look at Wanganui National Park, an incredible forest that was absolutely deserted when we drove through. We even happened upon a free public camping area at just the right time. We hadn't budgeted time to go for a hike in the park - once again, it's on the list for next time. We spent the next morning at a bird sanctuary looking at Paradise Ducks and Black Swans, hung out in the capital (Wellington - which we thought was beautiful) for a few hours, then caught the big boat through Cook Strait to the less-populated South Island. The ferry ride was scenic, although we arrived late in Picton, where the hostel where we'd booked a room had given away our beds and we were allowed to sleep in the TV room in our sleeping bags for a nice discount. This was probably ideal, since all we wanted to do was sleep and take off early the next morning. We were bound for Kaikoura, on the east coast of the South Island.

Kaikoura was a great lazy beachside place with an impressive wind and a scenic coastal walk that gave us a chance to get close-up views of big fat seals and all kinds of seabirds. We liked the oyster catchers best, even though when I went too close to their nest they screamed at me like they meant it. I really wanted to try surfing on this trip, because I know it takes a while to learn and the sooner I start, the sooner I'll be able to stand up. Kaikoura would have been the perfect place, but we just couldn't fit it in. Oh well - there will be plenty of other trips. After Kaikoura, we headed south to Christchurch, the second-biggest and "most British" city in New Zealand. We met our friends Becky and Kate for Christmas Eve, and stayed at a renovated prison. The Jailhouse was one of our most memorable accommodations from the whole trip, and it was good to spend the holiday with friends. From Christchurch, we drove the long haul to the Fiordlands, one of the largest national parks in the world and the setting for several parts of Lord of the Rings. We stopped in Dunedin, a southern city, to have lunch and say goodbye to Becky and Kate, who were bound for the famous Milford Sound. Chris and I had reserved a spot on the Kepler track, a hiking circuit and one of New Zealands Great Walks. We spent Christmas night in a hostel in Te Anau, a sleepy tourist town on the shore of Lake Te Anau. The hostel put on a potluck Christmas dinner for all the backpackers, and since just about everything was closed on Christmas day, we had to contribute a family-size bacon and egg pie (see the meat pie in the side panel for a general idea) and a bottle of wine. We were a little embarrassed at first, but once we saw some of the gruel the other guests had thrown together, we realized we'd represented ourselves well. The B&E pie lasted about 30 seconds before the hordes of Euros had scarfed it down.

We loved the Kepler track, which was a little less rigorous than we'd expected -- I guess Washington did much to shape us up mentally and physically for up-and-down mountain hiking. Anyway, the tracks in this part of the South Island have an impressive range of scenery: the high country has peaks and strange little succulent plants, not to mention sweeping views of the fiords and lakes that riddle the land and give the park its name, while the dense forest cover is draped in pretty mosses and segmented by crystal-clear rivers. (I am starting to sound like Ira Spring and the other guy from the WA hiking guides we always used to mock for their tendency to wax overly poetic about the vistas.) We had good weather the first day, and despite the rain the second day, enjoyed the forest and lakeside portions of the hike on the way out. The Fiordlands encompass a huge chunk of land, and we would really like to get back there someday and do some off-trail camping or hike some of the more remote trails. The Kepler track is one of the most popular in the country - even so, we went hours at a time without seeing anyone, and if that was high season on a high-demand trail, it would be amazing to hike a less-popular route during the slower spring or fall seasons.

After the Kepler, we had to beat a fast track up the west coast, stopping only for a cup of coffee in Queenstown and a mountain hike and overnight near Arthur's Pass. The northwest coast was stunning - reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest coast in WA, but with tropical-looking foliage in the dense forest just off the shore - and it was a shame we had to hurry. We planned to spend our last three days on the South Island in Nelson, on the north coast, and do a few day trips from there. Nelson was fine - we celebrated our six-month wedding anniversary with a great meal at The Boat Shed - and our accommodations were especially entertaining. Because we didn't book ahead, and the New Year's weekend is a legitimately heavy tourist time, we ended up going with the luck of the draw and sleeping at the first backpacker's accommodation that would have us, a place called The Welcome House. A phenomenon I'd discovered when I went to Ireland and Scotland several years ago was in full effect here: people notice their neighbors opening successful bed-and-breakfast accommodations (usually in fancy, oversized, or historic houses), and figure, "Why not me?" Only, not everyone has a fancy, oversized or historic home . . . so if you don't book carefully, you may end up staying at Some Guy's House (Reese, if you're reading this you know exactly what I'm talking about!). Maybe Some Guy had a couple of kids, and they grew up and moved away, so the kids' rooms - replete with stuffed animals or Strawberry Shortcake curtains - are going to waste. In our case, Sam (Some Guy - actually, I should add, a really nice guy who we will always remember fondly) just had a house with two rooms that he and My Lady (as he referred repeatedly to his wife) weren't using, as well as the requisite generous spirit, so he put the rooms up for rent. For anyone who cares a great deal about privacy, staying at Some Guy's House is not ideal, but once you've given yourself over to the idea of paying to stay with someone who feels like Great Uncle Fred - an odd but kind-hearted distant relative - you may come to enjoy the novelty of the situation.

While staying in Nelson, we did a day hike on the Abel Tasman track, which I think is the most popular in New Zealand. Most people hike this in 3 - 4 days, but you have to book ahead to do that, sleeping in the relatively posh huts the Department of Conservation has set up along the trail for that purpose. Well, not having booked ahead, we didn't have that option, but we were also surprised to see how short the actual trail was for the 3 - 4 day average. We didn't do the entire thing, but we hiked about 20 miles of it - roughly 3/4 of the total length - in one grueling day. The hiking was easy, but we didn't make the best footwear choices, and my feet in particular ended up looking pretty foul, with most of the skin from some key sandal contact points completely rubbed off. A German guy who walked by when I was nursing my wounds at the end of the hike took a look at my feet and remarked - "Oh no, is that YOUR FLESH??" I confessed that yes, it was indeed my flesh, rubbed raw by a terrorific blend of salt water and sand. Anyway, the hike was beautiful, although Chris and I agreed that we preferred the high country of the other hikes we'd done to the coastal track.

Well, I'm at that point in the blog entry when I realize how ridiculously, shamelessly, unnecessarily long the entry has become, and how unlikely it is that a single person, even my own dear mother, cares enough about the specifics of our vacations to read through to this point. Everyone scans the photos and then marks it read, right? That's what I usually do with blogs, save those with particularly witty prose, which in this case I haven't even attempted to create. Damn it, I do this every time! Our last several days in New Zealand in a nutshell: camped on the Charlotte Track in the Marlborough Sounds at the northern tip of the South Island, saw the eerie and amazing glowworms on our 3 a.m. hike out (had to catch the ferry at 4:30 a.m.), returned to the North Island and made a beeline for Auckland, spent the last few days enjoying the urban comforts of good food, good beer (actually, in this respect the entire country puts Korea to shame, so I am working hard to re-adjust to Cass and Hite), and the good company of Kate and Becky. Auckland was the 8th or 9th place in New Zealand that we agreed instantly - yes, we could definitely live here.

Since I've already established that no one is reading at this point, there's no need to draw out the conclusion, right? New Zealand was simply astounding. Happy New Year!