See ya in Korea

I can’t figure out why live octopus restaurants aren’t more popular in the States; the day to day costs of actually running a live octopus restaurant are so low and yet the food itself is so expensive that it seems like the place would be guaranteed to turn a profit. Why are the operating costs so minimal? Because preparation basically means grabbing an octopus out of the tank, giving it a quick rinse and carrying it over to the table and snipping the thing into bits with scissors. Done. No need to mess with extravagances like frying pans or seasoning. I also recommend live octopus to anyone new to chopsticks, as its still-alive status means the food rather than the eater can do all the work. Just stick the chopsticks into the undulating pile and wait for a tentacle or two to wrap itself around the ends before lifting them into your mouth. You gotta be careful, though! People have been known to try to swallow their catch only to realize that there are several suckers suction–cupped firmly to the roofs of their mouths. Fortunately, my own trip to an octopus restaurant (named “Octopus Restaurant”) only involved a couple of suckers grazing my chin as one tentacle attempted to escape. Not bad for the first time out.

I attended my first Korean wedding last weekend, for Eric, one of the second grade English teachers at school and a member of the Non-English Teachers’ English Language Workshop group that I meet twice a week. Actually, “stopped in on” might be a more accurate description. The ceremony took place in Chungju, about two hours north of Gumi. River (school librarian), Sunny (school nurse) and I got a little lost on our way there and ended up careening into the parking lot at 12:32, two minutes after the ceremony was supposed to start. My worries about missing it, though, abated a little as we made our way toward the chapel area (not an actual chapel as the whole thing was taking place in what appeared to be a hunting lodge tricked out in pink) because of all the old people sitting in chairs outside looking like they were waiting for the thing to start. WRONG. It turns out that at Korean weddings the actual marriage ceremony itself is not nearly so important as the party. This is also true at American weddings (right?) with the difference that Koreans don’t even bother sitting through the vows before getting things going. In order to catch Eric and his bride walking down the aisle, we had to elbow our way through the throngs of people standing around drinking and chatting. And even those who were watching felt no obligation to be quiet or stay in their seats. I had no trouble finding a seat; I just waited for the next person to holler to his cousin or whoever across the room and go over to say hi and then stole his chair. My impression is that the day itself was only important to the couple insomuch as it could be recorded and watched or shown around at a later date. There was a guy with a HUGE camera with a blindingly bright light attached who filmed the whole thing (I had to squint when he walked by...I can’t imagine it could have been comfortable to have it pointed at you when you were actually saying “I do”) and another woman who would dart in and fix the bride’s make-up IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CEREMONY every time the camera guy’s back was turned. (Actually, I heard later that Eric was probably also wearing a little make-up...you gotta, otherwise those bright stage lights make you look like you have no lips). I think they and the priest might have been the only ones in the whole room who could hear the ceremony at all. My favorite part, though? Definitely the fog machine. Eric and the bride had to bow to both sets of parents after they had said their vows, and at the crucial moment, just as Eric’s knees touched the floor, fog started pouring out of the stairs next to him. Pink fog. It was so romantic. Then Eric lifted his bride up and down seven times to prove that he was manly and strong and the whole thing was over. I shook Eric’s hand afterward and he seemed pretty exuberant, just the way a newlywed is supposed to be.

SOME WEDDING PICTURES

Wouldn't you find the cameraman a little distracting?

It's petering out, but you can still see some traces of fog in the lower right....

After the wedding River, Sunny and I went on a little tour of Chungju, including a stop by Chungju Lake (lovely) and the Liquorium, a private museum dedicated to wine, beer and soju.

LIQUORIUM

River at the entrance to the Liquorium.

This sign was at the admissions window, right next to the prices. Kind of a mixed message...

What happens when you sculpt drunk?

We stayed that night in a resort hotel; earlier in the day we had gone to Lotte Mart (like Wal-Mart only bigger and cleaner and featuring a larger variety of dried squid cakes) and purchased beer and snacks (including shrimp sticks! maybe one of the very bags that I watched being put together...) so we had what Sunny had labeled on the itinerary beforehand as a “very funny night.” (The words for fun and funny are the same in Korean, meaning you get a lot of people telling you that “Seoul is the funniest city in Korea,” or that “the rollercoaster was OK, but not very funny.”) I introduced them to the concept of the slumber party...like I had for my twelfth birthday, minus the beer. Apparently Korean kids don’t do this, as their bedrooms more often than not consist of a cot in the living room or a yo in their parents’ room, making it difficult to invite over ten girls in their nightgowns. So now Sunny thinks the English Language Workshop should have monthly slumber parties at River’s house, ‘cause she’s the only one without kids. We would tell stories in English and watch American movies. Mrs. Shim would be proud of my cultural ambassadorship, I’m sure. The next morning we got up super early (6am, ugh) in order to drive the two hours across town to WORAKSAN, the huge mountain that towers over Chungju. I absolutely do not think I can express how hard it was to climb this mountain. I had several people tell me on my return that mountains with “ak” in the name are particularly steep, precipitous, and hazardous and all I can say is that Woraksan deserves its ak 100%. Apparently Korean trail builders don’t really believe in things like switchbacks and prefer the method of building trails in a straight, upwards moving line. Which means first of all that the trail is unrelentingly steep, but second of all that when obstacles like boulders or cliffs get in the way, rather than detouring around them, the preferred method is to provide a rope with knots for climbing up and over them. Oof. All of this was eased, though, by the support and encouragement I got from random strangers. All the hikers we passed seemed to think it was sweet but a little bit amusing that a non-Korean was attempting to climb their mountain. Over the course of the four-hour climb I was offered apples, oranges, candy, cotton gloves (for hand protection while scrabbling across rock or crawling on all fours up the mountain in despair) and a walking stick. Others would just pat me on the back and say in Korean “Good, good.” We passed the time while hiking, and between desperate gulps of air, singing Beatles songs; sometimes if we ran into another group they would join in. Koreans have many hidden talents, and a wide Beatles repertoire seems to be one of them. Maybe it’s all the karaoke....

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