The Life of a Korean Teenager

My friend Monique directed me to this link a while back, and I just wanted to share it because it just broke my heart. I highly recommend you check out the site, watch the video, and if you feel so inclined, even make a donation. It's for a fantastic cause and will hopefully shed a desperately needed spotlight on an area of Korean culture that is in great need of change.

http://www.koreanhighschool.com/

My First Temple!

On Wednesday, our staff decided to take a random visit to a temple out in Eonyang. It was fine by me; it meant leaving work early and taking in some sites.

We all carpooled to Eonyang, and upon arrival, we made the very pleasant 20 minute walk up to the temple. The purpose of the trip was actually to see the Fall leaves in their colourful splendour, but we were a couple weeks early. Nonetheless, the view was grand, and my co-teacher and I kept going on about how refreshing the air felt away from the city.

The beginning to the trail up to the temple.

The walk towards the temple. 

 

The temple itself was beautiful, though my co-teachers could tell me next to nothing about the temple itself other than the fact that the colours, imagery, and shapes on the buildings had significant meanings. Without context, I just settled on enjoying the view.

The main temple area.

Who's that idiot that ruined a perfectly good photo with his face?

After perusing the area, we headed back down to the entrance and headed off to dinner. Now before I show you where we had dinner, I would just like to point out that it's things like this that still make me take a step back from time to time and say, "Holy crap, I'm in Korea!" Just look at this view as we drove to the restaurant. It kills me that my knees have been acting up, meaning there is no hiking in my immediate future. I want to hike the crap out of Korea. 

Our restaurant was pretty freakin' awesome. On the outside it looks like a palace, as seen below...

...and on the inside, it's like a regal cottage! 

I'd never been to a Korean BBQ place like this before. When you enter downstairs, you find yourself in a butcher shop where you choose the meat you want to eat. They then bring it upstairs for you to cook. While that process was kinda cool, like choosing which lobster you want to eat for dinner, the upstairs ambiance was ruined by pictures of the butcher shop scattered all over the place. I didn't need to be reminded that just a little while ago my dinner was hanging on hooks downstairs.

The highlight of my night came when this drunken dude started making the rounds to each table offering up soju shots. This guy is a real character. He either doesn't care or doesn't know how loud he is. When he comes to volleyball, he calls "MINE" for every single shot. EVERY SINGLE SHOT! Even if it means diving and almost breaking his neck, he'll still call it! He laughs the loudest, he talks the loudest, and he's a little overbearing for others--I could tell even before one of the teachers told me in the car driving home--but I find the guy entertaining as all hell.

At one point he came over to our table and started talking to me. Or at least, he tried to talk to me. He would apologize profusely about his English and tell me that he wants to talk to me, and then shake his head in embarrassment. When I downed the soju shot he poured me, he put his hands to his mouth, laughed like a giddy school girl, and said, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" over and over again. He was fascinated by me, and I was fascinated with how drunk he was. The rest of the teachers at our table, on the other hand, were clearly annoyed.

At the end of the night, he stood up and made a loud, dramatic, emotional speech of some sort. He was probably rambling on about nonsense, as everybody around him looked rather embarrassed, but from where I was sitting, this dude was professing his love to us all. Oh, and did I mention this was on a Wednesday?

When all was said and done, we went back downstairs and several teachers decided to buy some more meat from the butcher shop to take home with them. I saw my drunken friend and complimented him on his wonderful speech. He then proceeded to buy me bulgogi, which is grilled marinated beef, as a gift. I died of laughter. My co-teacher thinks that he did it because I complimented him on his speech. What a stand-up guy. Have I mentioned that I love my school yet? 

Pretty waterfall outside the restaurant.

Sightseeing in Busan

Sunday morning started out a tad rough. We all got back to the hostel pretty late after the fireworks, and so when we were awakened half an hour prior to check-out time the following morning by a hostel employee who might as well have blown a goddamn foghorn into our room--she wasn't exactly gentle in rousing us from our slumber--my friends and I weren't exactly pleased. Alas, there was nothing to be done; we packed our stuff and headed out.

Though I did have a slight headache, I was determined not to waste another day in Busan; I learned my lesson from the first trip. I somewhat begrudgingly parted ways with the rest of the boys at street level, and headed down towards the subway en route to the first of my destinations for the day: the Busan Museum of Art.

Below are just some of the highlights from my visit.

A Sad Self-Portrait

Motherless Child, Childless Mother 

 

Struggle

One Yen Twenty Cents A Day

The following five shots are pictures of woodcuts that were taken from a series that tell the story of an uprising at a Hanaoka mine in 1945. The Korean and Chinese labourers were treated terribly by their Japanese supervisors. Sort of explains why several Koreans still carry resentment the Japanese in their hearts.

The following four works are also about the same struggle.

Meaninglessness

Mr. Warhol and Mr. Dali made an appearance! (Mao)

Days in Early Spring

Coca-Cola (Molotov Cocktail)

A Foggy Spring Day

The section in which this work was displayed was called "Art Providing Happiness," and that's exactly what it did. I stood in front of this thing for a solid five minutes, just basking in its glory. I stepped up to it and let it envelop me, I drowned in its expansive, never-ending glory. I wanted to fall right into it.  

My boy Picasso and his Portrait of a Woman.

Accumulation

The following three photos are taken from a section titled "Remnants of the Atomic Bomb." There were three sections to this exhibit, feature heart-stoppingly beautiful and tragic photos, but unfortunately the security lady told me I couldn't take photos here. So go see them for yourself! (If you're in Korea, of course.)

By the time I was done touring the museum, not only had my headache disappeared, but I felt nothing but bliss. The energy from that building whirled around me, wrapped me in its arms, and washed away every negative thought in my mind and every ache in my body. This is why I love art museums. I felt weightless and completely in the moment, which is a rarity for me.

Then I walked into the gift shop. That may have been a mistake, but it's a mistake I would gladly make again. I sort of bought a 30" x 40" frame featuring Van Gogh's Starry Night. It just felt so right considering how I felt at that very moment. That's how we should all see the world; we all need to just go outside and paint the stars from time to time.

The woman at the desk spent about half an hour carefully wrapping up my purchase while I went and grabbed a bite to eat. Thankfully, she tied a bow around the frame with a loop on the top that I could hold onto. I then proceeded to carry that thing around with me for the rest of the day, but it didn't feel like a burden for a second.

My next stop was the UN Memorial Cemetery:

"On this memorial are inscribed the names of men from Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa who fell in the Korean War and have no known grave. They died with men of other countries fighting to uphold the ideals of the United Nations."

"This monument to Canadian Fallen was dedicated by the Canadian Veterans Korean War Commemoration Committee on November 11, 2011. The serviceman depicted is hatless, eliminating the need for service or unit designation. It projects an air of individuality and informality, which are recognized traits among Canadians. The two bouquets of national flowers, 21 maple leaves and roses of Sharon, held by the young girl and boy, symbolize 21 Canadians who fell and have no known graves."  

The Wall of Remembrance features the names of every fallen soldier that fought during the war. I thought this wall was huge and endless--it curves well beyond the end of the picture--and then I got to the end and realized there were not only names on the other side of the wall, but an entire other wall behind this one. My heart dropped to the soles of my feet and I literally almost tripped myself.

UN Forces Monument

Putting faces to war.

This one got me a little teary-eyed. The artist was inspired after a visit to the cemetery to pay a visit to his late great grandfather. I stared into that boy's face, and in an instant, I felt like I knew him my whole life. But he was gone.

After touring the grounds, I walked back to the Canadian flag, kissed my pointing and middle fingers, and gently pressed them against the poppy that lay at its base before making my way towards the exit.

My final stop for the day was Yongdusan Park, which features a 118-metre high tower overlooking Busan in every direction.

This lay at its base. I thought it was a bit out of place, but it was cute nonetheless. Couples could pose for pictures and place little heart-shaped key-chains and locks along the fence. It was weird, though, because 1) I didn't see anybody selling the locks, so I don't know where they all came from, 2) I didn't see anybody placing anything on the fence, and 3) I couldn't find a single one in English. Very odd indeed.

Then I made my way up the tower just in time to see the sunset. I couldn't have timed it better.

After sitting for a bit to rest my weary feet because I'm an old man trapped in a handsome and dashing young man's body, I went back down the tower and decided to start making my way back to the train station, but in a different direction from which I came so that I could get a shot of the tower in all its glory.

Unfortunatey I can't tell you anything about these last few pictures, as all of the descriptions were in Korean. Oh well. Yay dragon and warrior dude!

I'd like to end this post with a simple tip for travelling on trains in a foreign country: Even if you're sure that you're getting on the right train, it never hurts to ask somebody. Hopefully you can find somebody who speaks English. Otherwise, you might find yourself in my situation.

See, the person who sold me my train ticket told me that my train would be arriving at 7:00 on the dot. Now from what I've seen, Korean trains are nothing like the Go Train back home in that they actually arrive exactly when they say they're going to arrive. So when a train pulled in at 7:00, all logic told me that this was my train. Needless to say I was surprised when I shook myself from my musical reverie 25 minutes into my ride, took off my headphones, and realized that 1) the train wasn't moving and 2) I was the only person on the train.

I explained to somebody who was working on the train that I was trying to get to Taewha Station, and he told me I'd gone in the opposite direction; I had reached the end of the line. A half hour later, I got back on the very train I had just disembarked, and stood for the next hour and a half until I got home.

Thankfully, I was still on such an emotional and spiritual high from the rest of the day that I didn't really let it bother me. I got home and put my serenity to good use by doing one of my favourite things in the world: writing.