Into the sunset

My life in South Korea is done, and my sister's wedding is fast approaching in South Africa. My last few days at English Village are a whirlwind of final dinners and goodbyes, and relief that I'm going to miss the latest directive from the "management": African accents are to be replaced in the future with American ones. My American accent is so poor I'm embarrassed to even try in front of my friends for fear of angering them with the imitation. And anyway, which of the thousands of US accents would I choose? Oh, mad Korea.

In my last week, it snows. Yes, in mid-March, it snows. Poor Korea lucked out on the weather front...


Also in my last week, Shabu Lady discovers that I'm leaving and suddenly realises that she loves me! She really does! (Or maybe she's just thankful that she no longer needs to put me on my own table at big Shabu dinners...)

So. Korea. I won't miss people peering into my shopping bags, picking things out so as to have a better look at my groceries. Or the nightmare of having to deal with social and administrative hierarchy. Or the staring on the subway as I stand swaying in my foreign skin. The smell of silkworm pupae sizzling on the street. Having to explain for the hundredth time to an offended Korean just why I don't like the wonderfood that is Kimchi. The food and the wholesale worship of meat, no matter where it comes from. My tiny box they call an apartment. Sharing space with a million other people. Being met at the door of a shop by an assistant shaking her head at me and shouting "No big size! No for you!"

I'm going to miss shabu shabu and the local Indian restaurant, where curry comes with a side of pickles, and the friends that I've made from, truly, all corners of the English-speaking world - at least I now have a place to stay in a thousand different cities. The elderly lady in the shop who holds my hand when she babbles in Korean as if that will help me understand - and her wide smile. Couples' shirts! Someone going 3 blocks out of their way to show me where I need to go. Living two doors down from a cousin, and 4 doors away from my closest friend. Shopping in Seoul!

Korea has been an amazing ride; I can't see myself back here again, but then I have many friends at EV who said exactly the same thing right before they started looking into visas for another year. It's the first place I've ever truly experienced culture shock and that's a good thing. Without culture shock, the world is just one endless high street of McDonalds and Starbucks. In Seoul, the first Starbucks was met with such fierce animosity that it was the first Starbucks ever to translate its sign into another alphabet, Hangeul, as a compromise (it reads Seu-ta-bug-seu Ko-bi, and I love it!)


The other day I found myself thinking of the way that I get upset when people aren't nice to me on my travels; I write in my diary that "people in [insert town name] aren't as friendly as in [other town name]" and feel sad that I haven't had as good a time as I might have. But travel involves meeting people who are going about their lives, having a good day, having a bad day, trying to come to terms with the influx of people from other places, tourists who spend the equivalent of a month's local wages on a room for the night and then demand smiles all the time. The shock of having to adapt to Korea has left me smiling: if Korea, who looks to America as an adoring child looks up to a heroic baseball player, can still be so different to the McDonaldised West, then perhaps there's hope for the rest of the world.

Winter Wonderland

Movie stars, cute kids and a tonne of polystyrene. It's Christmas in the English Village...

A week ago, the Villagers awoke to the sounds of yet another film crew creating a set. It took all day, but by evening, Main Street had been transformed. Our tram had been pulled out on its tracks - and by pulled out, I mean it was hooked up to a car and towed on wheels. This is because it was built without brakes. Or, according to another rumour, Korean engineers built the tracks, and foreign engineers built the tram, and neither side told the other side what specifications to build to, so they don't fit together. Either way, our tram does not work. But it certainly looked awfully pretty sitting there in front of the pub, atop a beautifully white road - courtesy not of the November weather, but some cleverly placed white sheets and a dusting of polystyrene snow, artistically blown about by a clever man with a blower thing.

Lights had been draped over all the store fronts and the tram decked with holly and red ribbons and other Decemberish adornments. I had to leave to teach my evening military lesson, so I ducked down the back route, now blocked by an enormous van serving kimchi and coffee to the starved and frozen crew.

When I returned at 9pm, a crowd of teachers and students from our adult programs had taken up position behind a gauntlet of luminous lights, enormous cameras and a sound machine set to repeat, playing the Xmas jingle of a major electronics megastore. The stars of the Korean hit movie Kwasok Scandle (or Speed Scandal) were obliging the director with 5 seconds of dance, again, and again, and again... The youngest cast member - only about 5 years old, extremely cute under a mop of curly hair, and currently to be seen on every single talk show, game show and advert on TV - swung his legs from his perch on the tram, while the main star smiled delightfully at every request to start from the top.

Meanwhile, from my own perch on some side steps, I could see and talk to the extras - three little families, strong father, mother in miniskirt, perfect child in designer clothes - whose job it was to walk back and forth across the road and be shouted at by a guy in a beret with a megaphone.

As for me, I got bored after half an hour and went home to bed. The lights and music continued until 4am. Mmm, this showbiz thing - it's not for everyone you know...