I have been trying to write about this past weekend when I went to Seroksan National Park at the peak of the leaf-changing, perfect weather, and crowded to the hilt season, but I just can’t seem to find the words. So, I’ll just bite the bullet, and give it one last shot, and just write.

Seroksan is in the far northeast corner of South Korea. The park is over 40, 000 acres of rugged mountains filled with hiking trails, waterfalls, and the mist filled vistas that are so common in Korean folk art. Oh, and hikers–lots and lots of hikers. Think thousands–maybe even tens of thousands. The guide books to Korea will tell you that Koreans love to hike, and they dress in all the proper attire when they do. I felt like a sleeze in my sweatshirt jacket, old black pants, and battered Asics that I wear everyday. Everyone I met on the trail had on the right kind of pants, jackets, walking sticks, backpacks, socks, hats, and boots. And all with brand name logos. I don’t think I had a brand name on me except for my Asics. I guess that’s the difference between dedicated hikers and we weekend sojourners who never make it to the top but have a great time dwaddling along the way, taking pictures, taking rest stops, and taking time to visit with other hikers on the trail.

On the first day, I hiked up to some beautiful rock formations with some gentle waterfall dropping in several layers into green pools of chystal clear water. We started that hike as soon as we got there and got settled into the hotel–about 2:00. The trail was crowded with people, but it was smooth and wide for the first part up. Then it got more narrow and rocky–and even more crowded because you would take the same trail up and down. It’s interesting hiking shoulder to shoulder with men, women, and children going in both directions. Still, I got some great pictures.

The leaves were every shade imaginable for fall foliage. Now that I think back on it and remember that Korea is a newly forested country, that explains why so much of the vibrant color was at eye level. We were surrounded by beauty. It wasn’t just in the high canopy.

Saturday night I had my first experience with a Korean public bath–or spa. Not quite sure how to write about that one with all my puritanical inhibitions, so I’ll just leave that one to the imagination–or not. Needless to say, I didn’t take pictures. Some things posterity just doesn’t need to know!

The second day we got up early to hit the trails before the big rush of hikers came into the park. It was perfect. A few of us hiked the easier trail to another waterfall and were rewarded with having the trail all to ourselves. It was peaceful, quiet, and a bright, sunshiny morning–perfect for some Sunday morning meditating as I walked along. At the first concession stop up the trail, we were met by a lady passing out free samples of mountain berry juice, hoping we would buy some on the way down. As I was walking away, she ran up to me with a walking stick, saying, “Service, service!” which means “free.” For the next couple of hundred yards, I thought it was just a cumbersome burden getting in the way of my picture taking. Then the trail became just rocks, boulders, and steep metal stepped bridges. Man, I was glad I had that walking stick! And yes, I bought a bottle of mountain berry juice on my trip down when I returned the stick!

Our last venture was the cable car to the top of the highest mountain. Another impressive sight to add to my list.

Even the trip home was worth staying awake for. The rice had been harvested and the straw was either laid out in rows to dry or had been bundled and propped up in the field. In some places it had been rolled into round bales and covered in white plastic. Most of the crops are finished, but the cabbages are green as well as some winter root crops. The mountains looked as if they had been stroked with and artist’s brush dipped in golds, rust, and green and then stippled with red. Yes, autumn in all its glory.

(A few pictures on the photo blog if you want to venture there.)

Saturday I went to Itaewon to do some selective shopping. I needed (1) a stockpile of used books for the cold winter months ahead since I’ve read just about everything I have on hand and devoured the books that my friend Sue so kindly sent me, (2) cheese, (3) socks, and (4) a new watch.

First was a stop at What The Book, a book store that has new and used books in English. Because Seoul is such a cosmopolitan city, you can find used books in English from all over the globe at this store. I’ve stumbled on some Australian and New Zealand and Canadian and British and Indian authors that I have really enjoyed. After a few hours of browsing, I left with a heavy grocery sack load that should keep me entertained and thinking for the next few months.

The next stop was the small Indian run grocery store next door where I never know what I will find–and I admit I don’t have a clue what much of it is used for or how it’s eaten. But someone there must make a Costco run every once in awhile because I can get the two pound blocks of cheddar, colby, or monterey jack there that I recognize as their brand. Cheese is hard to come by from my neighborhood grocers, so of course, I crave cheese and crackers when I get home from work. I have found I can cut up the two pound blocks into useable portions and freeze it so it lasts without going mouldy.

Now loaded with a heavy grocery sack full of books and another sack with four pounds of cheese–yes, I remembered the freezing thing and bought two–I went in search of a watch. I wanted a simple watch with numbers I can read, a band that sits comfortably on my wrist, and NO bling. I went to the Hamilton Hotel Shopping Mall which is filled with jewelry, knock-off handbags, Korean souvenirs, clothes, shoes, luggage, etc, etc, etc. I found just the watch I was looking for but at a price I didn’t want to pay–so we haggled and agreed on a price that was just what I had planned to spend. I’m not very good at that kind of thing, so I could probably have gotten it for much less. But to paraphrase Julius Caesar, “I came for it, I saw it, I got it.”

The socks, I found on the street from a vendor. They’re the padded kind with a good arch support, which I need for all the walking I have to do here. Somehow at home I had ended up with three socks. There aren’t too many places to hide in my feng shuied apartment, but I have still managed to lose a sock. I need another pair or two to keep the washing, wearing, losing rotation going.

Now loaded with the heavy grocery sack of books, the four pounds of cheese, the new watch, and the bag of socks, I went to the Hamilton Hotel lobby to meet Dee Ann for dinner. I got there at quarter to four because I couldn’t remember if we were to meet at four or four-thirty. Besides, I had books to read and a watch that could tell time. We found each other while doing the “Where are you?” thing on the cell phones and went in search of a place to eat. Itaewon is notorious for all its international places to eat, so we walked along weighing our options: Inidan? Thai? Belgian? Chinese? Korean? Middle Eastern? Italian? Ethiopian?

We settled on Smokey Saloon, reknowned for its hamburgers and usually difficult to get in to. It only has six or eight tables with absolutely no walking room in between. The whole place is probably 12 x 20 feet big and that includes the kitchen. We stood at the door and saw a table for two empty, took it, ordered, and sat back and ate probably the best hamburger I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t even bother with the bread, the meat was so delicious–ground chuck, no fat, and juicy beyond belief. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. When we left, the line was way out the door and down the street, so I guess our eating there was meant to be.

I had to make an early night of it. Sunday I was getting up early to go on a walking tour of Josun Dynasty palaces. So I trekked on home on the subway, loaded with my heavy grocery sack of books, my four pounds of cheese, my bag of socks, and my new watch–selective shopping at its best.

Believe me, don’t bite a bug. I know from whence I speak. They bite back!

This past weekend, October 10-11, I was on a tour of some of the islands in the far south central tip of Korea. It was a five hour trip to our destination city, Tongyeong, so I had packed a picnic lunch for the noon break. I found a nice little park at the rest stop, with a nice little bench where I could sit and look at the mountains with their changing leaves.

Did you know that Korea is a land of reforestation? It wasn’t too many years ago that there were no trees on the mountains: fire wood had been a major source for heating and cooking for centuries, guerilla terrorists were often burned out when they hid in the hills, and forest fires and centuries of warfare had almost denuded the country of trees. Now the country is lush and green; the trees are young, but growing. I want to know more about how they accomplished this. It truly is amazing. Dr. Adams, our tour guide, pointed out some places where trees had been planted uniformly in rows and the mountain sides looked striped or cornrowed. But that must have been in the early years planting new forests. Now they mostly look quite natural.

Back to biting the bug: I am eating my cheese–make that precious cheese since it’s so hard to come by–sandwich, looking out at the country side, when something just doesn’t feel right. I know I didn’t put raisins in my sandwich, but it sure feels like it. Then the “raisin” starts to move around, frantically. Then I feel like I’m eating glass. Yep, I’ve bitten into a bee who has retaliated by biting my tongue and the soft area under my tongue. IT HURT! I told a few people on the trip so someone would know what was going on if my tongue swelled up and I couldn’t talk and I turned blue and I passed out and . . . . All these scenarious ran through my head. None of those things happened, of course, but IT HURT! I bought a popsicle at the rest stop, but when I licked it, it tasted like plastic. Could a bee sting affect my taste buds too? The more I licked, the more it tasted like plastic. Finally, a little girl and her mother noticed I was licking plastic and showed me how to break off the end of the popsicle and squeeze the real popsicle out of the plastic. Of course, I had to wait for it to melt a little–so I kept licking the plastic and holding it on my sore tongue–because IT HURT!

I nursed my sore tongue for the rest of the day while we explored the shrine of Admiral Yi Sun-shin, one of the great naval strategists and heroes of all time. Check out his Turtle boats on the internet. In 1592 he defeated the Japanese who had him greatly outnumbered using these boats and knowledge of the islands and tides and currents and military strategy. We also visitied his headquarters on Hansan-Do, a beautiful island where he could overlook the bay and train his troops and plan his maneuvers. The training ground for his archers is truly amazing!

My tongue was just about better by the time we stopped for a Korean style dinner of bar-b-qued pork and about twenty side dishes. Bar-b-que here means you cook sliced meat on a charcoal grill at your table, pick it off as it gets to the degree of doneness you like, wrap it in a lettuce or sesame leaf, put a little sauce or kim chi on it, roll it up like a taco and eat it–along with the twenty side dishes. It was delicious. Everything was perfect, except for sitting on the floor. I really have trouble doing that comfortably. And my getting up to standing postion after an hour of sitting is not a pretty sight I’m sure.

Sunday, I’d forgotten all about my tongue. We took a ferry ride through some of the Hallyeo Waterway with it’s rocky little islands protruding from azure water. It reminded my of Capri. I kept waiting for the Korean guide, who was entertaining all who spoke Korean–I could tell because they all laughed and clapped– to break into an operatic baritone any moment.

Our destination was Oe-Do, a tiny island owned by the late Changho Lee and his wife Hosook Choi. This couple turned this rocky island into a beautiful botanical garden filled with plants and sculpture. Following the path through the gardens takes about an hour and a half and is worth every step of the way.

Back on shore, our lunch is again Korean style, sitting on the floor with even more side dishes. The meat and fish are already cooked for us, so no labor is involved, just sit back, eat, enjoy, and try to guess what it is you’re eating. One vegetable that I have really come to enjoy is kind of like brownish sticks cooked tender in sesame oil and soy sauce and sprinkled with sesame seeds. It’s good either hot or cold. One of my fellow travelers told me it is what we call Kudzu in the U.S. I’ll have to check on that.

Our last stop is the site of a Korean War United Nation Prisoner of War camp. It was huge, holding about 170, 000 Chinese, North Korean, and South Korean sympathizers with all the problems that would percolate with so many ethnic and ideological differences. At one time, the military commander, General Dodd, an American, was captured and held hostage by rioting prisoners. They’ve done a good job with this outdoor museum with dioramas, film, replicas, and a few of the shells of the original buildings. I kept looking for Hawkeye Pierce to come walking around a quanset hut, head down and mumbling about the inaneities of war. Another thing I need to learn more about: the Korean War.

Last on the agenda is the five hour bus ride home. It was a beautiful October weekend. The smell and feel of fall is in the air. The rice fields are ripe and golden. Where the rice has been harvested, the fields are brown with rice stalks heaped in small bundles, drying in the fields. Along the roadside you can see rice, light brown and drying, spread out on tarps. On other tarps are red peppers drying, getting ready for their part in the making of kim chi.

When I think of Korea, I will think of that golden yellow intermixed with the blue roofs that predominate in the rural countryside with touches of the red pepper and orange persimmons still hanging on leafless trees. I will think of green hillsides quite recently planted and now splashing with yellows and oranges and reds as the leaves begin to change. I will think of sunsets and morning mists.

But I will also remember what it feels like to bite a bug!

I just had a most interesting evening with three new Korean friends. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

About a month ago I was in the beauty shop getting my steel gray roots to compromise with the rest of my hair. Actually that’s another story that probably should be told.

Ms. Kim has been cutting, dyeing, highlighting my hair since I came to Korea. I am very pleased with her work. The last time I went–before this other last time–she told me that the beauticians had gotten together and decided I should go a little darker. To make a long story short, I now look quite Korean. In fact, I look so Korean I get stopped on the street by Koreans asking directions–at least I think that’s what they’re asking since I don’t speak the language. Their reaction when they see my round face and eyes is always one of eye-widening shock. Back at the beauty shop, when I came out from under the towel and dryer all dark haired, the beauticians crowded around, grinning and clapping, and saying, “You look so much younger!” Actually, that wasn’t one of my goals, but I just keep telling myself “It’s only hair” and besides, I don’t do mirrors anyway.

Back to that month ago–while I was getting my hair done, a lady of about my age struck up a conversation with me in English. We had a nice chat, exchanged cell phone numbers, and talked about getting together for coffee sometime.

Yesterday, Mrs. Kim, the English speaking new acquaintance, called and asked if we could get together on Thursday. I get out of work at 5:00, so I told her I could meet her at Hyundai Department Store by 5:15. What I thought was going to be coffee, turned out to be a delightful evening with Mrs. Kim and two of her friends, Mrs. Han and Mrs. Chou. She had told them she had met an American lady who reminded her of Mrs. Doubtfire–I am choosing to take that as a compliment! They told me they were going to take me to a beautiful island on the Han river. So we got in Mrs. Kim’s Mercedes, and off we went.

We took a very nice stroll along the river and around a small island. Then they took me to a restaurant on the river where we could watch the sunset. Korean style, we all shared a large combination pizza, a delicious tomato based spaghetti, and a very interesting curry. It felt funny not using chop sticks, I’ve gotten so used to it. But best of all, we had interesting conversation.

One of the most difficult things about living in Korea is not speaking the language and not being able to have conversations with the many interesting people I have met. There is so much I want to ask them and want to know, but neither of us usually has the language. Here I was with three interesting ladies who spoke enough English we could talk and laugh and get acquainted.

Mrs. Kim brought fresh fruit for dessert: fresh peaches, peeled and sliced; Concord grapes, ripe and tasting like wine–not just Welche’s grape juice, but real wine. We had this with tea and coffee.

I thought we would walk back to the car, but instead we walked to Banpo Bridge where at 8:00 at night they put on a music, light, and waterfall show from the top of th bridge. The evening was beautiful and the entertainment was perfect. We walked and talked and laughed. It was just a delightful evening.

Thank you Mrs. Kim, Mrs. Han, and Mrs. Chou.

I’m reading blogs about politics and health care and am fixing to implode, especially when I have something to say! And I want to talk about cicadas!

The dog days of summer must be coming to an end because I am hearing fewer and fewer cicadas as I walk to and from work each day. For about two or three weeks–I really should have been keeping records–the sound of the cicadas here in Seoul was absolutely deafining. Whenever I would walk by a group of trees, the sound would be overwhelming. Once, I even stopped and did the do–re–me–fa–so–la–te–do–thing and about decided that the sound and cadence was a high do. Is that C? I am not kidding. There are weeks when the sound of cicadas in Seoul is so overwhelming it hurts your ears. I can’t imagine those without air-conditioning with windows open who can’t sleep because of the perpetual noise of male cicadas trilling, screeeching, chirrping for a mate. Alberto, one of my teaching co-horts, assurred me it is not pleasant! (Actually, I did some research and found that the sound of the cicadas in Seoul measures at 74 decibles. The acceptable decible is 40! Sooo, what does that tell you?)

My students are for the most part absolutely afraid of bugs. I love bugs! So I bring in bugs to these six-year olds every chance I get. One morning I stumbled on a cicada nymph shell and brought it to class for us to see and look at under my magnifying glass that I need to read the subway map and to talk about. I had no idea at the time–early June–what a huge force cicadas are in this city. In West Texas the sound of the lone cicada is the sound of summer. With its trill, I can visualize summer and heat and dry air, all vaporizining into the summer sun with a few dust devils in the background. Here, in Seoul, there are hundreds, no, maybe thousands, trilling at the same time. Believe me, it’s deafining! On my walk to school, I pass by a few parks and a few apartment buildings with trees. That is the formula for cicadas–in mass!

After I brought the one lone cicada to class and we talked about it and looked at it and I put it on dispay, I thought that was the end. NO! Lynn, who is probably the most insect-phobic of the group, brought me a zip-lock bag full of nymph carcasses that her nanny scooped up from the swimming pool! I have never seen so many in one spot at one time! But we talked about them and looked at them and discussed how to wash your hands after touching one of them.

But today as I walked home, I heard fewer cicadas. In some spots, I am sure it was only one, lone male still hoping for a mate–that’s what the trill is all about. But it also made me realize that summer is wanning. I keep astrological charts every morning from Wunderweather which tells me when the sun rises and sets. It’s been fun knowing when the daylight hours are getting shorter or longer and especially interesting from differnent parts of the world since I try to keep up with friends and family from all over the world. WOW! This world is a phenomenol place!

Today I just heard one or two. Last week I actualy stopped by a boxwood and watched a lone male trilling for a female. His thorax was vibrating away. He was a handsome male, so when I heard the sound it made me realize that I hope he has found his true love. He was trying sooooo hard! Surely a likely female heard him. Hmmmm, what lessons are there for us alll. His is a life and death scenario. Ours . . . . .

Ok, my class is now on to snails. We have four of them in two plastic boxes. I have done the research and am hoping for better habitats for them in the next few days, but we shall see. I don’t have a particularly good track record for keeping species alive. Dont’ ask about the silk worms! They never did make moths!! Yes, I still feel guilty!

It has been hot and humid here in the city. But it’s summer. It’s a peninsula. It’s supposed to be hot and humid. I find if I don’t think about it and don’t talk about it and, above all, don’t complain about it, I puddle though just fine. (My friend Trish taught me that from all her years as a coaches wife sitting in the bleachers!) Yesterday, however, was a very nice day: not too hot, nice breezes, cloudy.

Usually when I go places in Seoul, I go by subway. They’re easy. They’re convenient. They’re in English! But that means I see more of what’s underground than above where the real action and people and places are teeming. So yesterday, I decided to take Blue Bus 147 and ride the whole loop. The buses are not in English. There is a muted speaker that announces stops in several languages and English, but the routes published at the bus stop are mostly in Korean. And the drivers in their beautifully pressed white shirts and white gloves, don’t speak English. The blue buses go all over Seoul, through many Dongs and Gus, so I thought with a blue bus I’d see more of the city.

I began my adventure at 9:30. I know because I took notes along the way and noted time and places we passed. I got a good window seat. It wasn’t long before the bus made the bottom end of the loop and headed north across the river.

I saw streets beautifully lined with shading sycamores and sometimes ginkos. I saw unique sculptures tucked into nooks, crannies, and small and large plazas. I saw streets lines with shops selling light fixtures and streets of shops selling metal beams and streets with shops selling bicycles. I saw streets lined with market stalls selling all kinds of produce, clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry, trinkets. I saw skyscrapers of every shape and architectural design harboring no telling what businesses in their multitudinous office space. I saw people, people, people, shopping, strolling, hurrying, each carrying out his or her unknown–to me–agenda. But that’s to be expected in one of the most densely populated cities in the world.

We keep heading north. (I slip into present tense as I relive the adventure!) The mountains get clearer and closer. The skyscrapers are now mostly apartment buildings–lots of apartment buildings. Things are more spread out. The pace on the streets has slowed down. We pass a road sign for Dream Forest that looks interesting–something to check out in my guide book. I make a note in my notebook. I’m the only passenger on the bus now, and have been for quite some time.

The driver makes a sharp turn. I note it’s 11:00. The bus stops. I look up. The driver indicates I have to get off. We’re in the bus barn. It’s the end of the line! What happened to the loop? And I’m way the heck on the northern boundaries of Seoul–far, far from home, or at least familiar territory.

No problem. I figure I just cross the street and catch the 147 headed in the other direction, except I was taking notes and not paying attention, so I cross the wrong street and end up at a huge–and not overly crowded–E Mart. E Mart here is comparable to Wal Mart at home. There are no E Marts in my Apgujeong neighborhood and the one that I have been to that’s a taxi drive from my home is always sooo crowded, so I take the opportunity to explore the store at my leisure.

I found Longhorn Cheddar cheese! American cheese! That is truly a find, so I stocked up. I also found a big bag of apples for 2,500 won–a really good price. I figure I had better stop because whatever I buy, I have to lug all the way back across the river.

Back on the street I see 147 disappear ahead of me, so I follow its trail. Then I see it again as it turns a corner. So do I. I make it to the bus stop to wait for the next bus and realize I’ve been chasing 149 which I have no idea where it goes. A street signs points to Hagye Subway station which my subway map tells me is line 7 which connects with line 3–my line–at Express Bus Station with just the one transfer. All other routes are going to take three transfers. I opt for the longer ride, luckily find a seat in the old people, handicapped, and pregnant women section and settle in for a long ride home.

Once again, I’m underground. But that’s ok. Now I can read the book that’s in my bag, with my precious cheese and apples nestled on the floor beside me. I can look up every once in awhile and people watch. Or I can go over all the notes I took and try to figure out where I went wrong–or not. What’s an adventure for if it doesn’t entail a little mystery.

Besides, it was a beautiful day above ground: not too hot, nice breezes, cloudy.

I’ve been to China: the Wall, the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace.
I’ve shopped for pearls and tea.
I’ve learned about jade and silk and medicine,
But the most beautiful sight is when the blue sky I see.

I arrived on Sunday and the skies were gray
And never changed that luster.
When I complained and spoke of smog,
“It’s just cloudy!” my guide would bluster.

The square is huge, the crowds were large
As we crammed into the Forbidden city
Where common people weren’t allowed to go,
Only inclusive royalty–truly a pity.

Imagine not having the common touch,
Not living among common folk,
Not understanding their wants and needs,
Does that make governing a joke?

Is there a lesson for us in this ancient place
As we send off elected representatives
To look out for our needs, our lives, and our country,
To our future are they being attentive?

Emperors and empresses in long ago days
Created the Summer Palace.
A place they could relax, walk and play,
A place to avoid the masses.

Create a lake. Create some gardens.
Create the world’s longest corridor.
A beautiful place away form the people;
Who could ask for anything more?

Where are the people in these places I see,
The places set aside for tourists.
Why is history only about
Emperors, legislators, and jurists?

Tienemen Square is truly huge,
Surrounded by government buildings,
A place to gather, protest, and be seen
While barricades police are shielding.

The Ming Tombs are a beautiful, tranquil place
The burial spot of many,
But particularly honoring Zhu Di, who in pushing China ever forward,
Spent many a hard earned penny.

Ahh, the Great Wall, what can I say,
It’s a long way to the top.
But I made it up there, step by step,
With many a pause and a stop.

The view was beautiful though smoggy and gray,
And the Wall stretched for miles and miles,
Winding and dipping on mountain top ways,
Protecting from Mongols’ frightening wiles.

My knees are still creaking, screeching, “What have you done?”
Did you really need to go so far?
But it was there and I did it and am glad that I did.
And there was Ibupfofen back in the car!

I learned about tea–it’s good–and pearls–they’re beautiful–and jade–it’s healthy–and art,
Before I left that place.
And the silk was amazing and so cheaply priced
I could have come home with a case.

But travelers beware! Be sure to call
Your home based credit card company,
Or you’ll end up like me with temptations galore
And not able to spend a penny!

Ahh, well, I leave with memories intact,
With almost one thousand pictures,
With a knowledge of goods and food and life
Despite all those gray sky strictures.

It’s been an interesting few months here in Spring Academy, just off Apgugjeong, in Sinsa -dong, Gangnam Gu where “all the women are strong, all the men are good looking and all the children above average.” (Kudos to Garrison Keillor whose rhythms for Lake Wobegone I just couldn’t resist).

We are now ending the first semester of the Academy, and looking back, I realize it’s been quite a trip. The children are speaking more and more English all the time. Sometimes I listen to them and wonder where they’re getting all the vocabulary. Yes, we drill words and sentences, but those are not necessarily the ones they are using. It’s like they’re little sponges and are picking it up from the books they’re reading, from TV, from everyday conversation. From 9:30-2:45 my class, as well as others, speak only English.

In June we had our big school picnic. Most children’s parents or at least one parent–and some grandparents and aunts and brothers and sisters–came and spent the day with us at the park along the river. We played games, had relays, and had each class make a short presentation. Mine sang “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” and a parody “Old MacDonald Had a Band” with all the approriate sounds and instruments. They sang with gusto and on some key. The parents brought the food and shared with the teachers, which gave us a chance to visit one-on-one with them and not just discuss how their child was doing. We talked about our lives and our work, our families and our interests, just all kinds of things. Some spoke English very well and helped those who didn’t to communicate with us. It was a fun day. But I particularly enjoyed seeing the parents interacting with their children–and with each other.

In July our big field trip was to the Korean War Museum. This country has been embroiled in warfare for centuries, so to see the weapons and uniforms and armor was truly a spectacle. The children actually did quite well. My group–6 year olds–really got interested in the Korean War and all the displays–tanks and rockets and bombs and war scene diaramas. They asked some very good questions.

Well, the cooking classes have been fun–sandwiches last month and yogurt parfaits this. Most of my science experiments have worked–to some degree. GABE five, which I was dreading because of all the little pieces we have to work with, has worked out ok since quite a few of our students have GABE sets at home and private tutors who come to their houses to work with them. So they were familiar with all the little pieces and how to get them back into the box–my main concern.

In June I took my class and the other six year old class to the Hyundai Art Gallery which is just a few blocks from the school. I had been in earlier and seen a most childlike exhibit by Kim, Byung-Jong that I thought would appeal to their sense of color and design. In other words, the colors were bright and the figures were primitive and the canvases were huge. The kids did so well, of course we drilled them on gallery behavior before hand, but still. . . . When we got back to class, I had my five draw and color anything they remembered from what they had seen. Amazing!! They remembered such detail! I went back to the original pieces from the brochure they gave us and couldn’t believe it: colors, objects, themes, abstractions–and they picked it all up!

We have worked our way through several language arts workbooks. The children are reading quite well. In their writing they are recognizing complete sentences for the most part. I think they are more than ready to stretch abilities and imaginations, so no telling what we might get into in the next semester.

But then, what can you expect when “all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.”

Saturday-Sunday, June 27-28 I took a Royal Asiatic Society bus tour to the southwestern coast of Korea. I was in need of a green fix. I needed a reminder that there is a natural world out there away from asphalt, tall buildings, and nursery planted and managed nature. It hasn’t helped that I’ve been reading Willa Cather’s The Song of the Lark where she absolutely nails the beauty of the rural Southwest. I could just see and smell the Big Country–although her setting is Colorado–even down to the Monahan sand dunes. Yep, it was time I was seeking some nature.

This trip was perfect. Our first stop was the largest rest stop in Korea. It was huge. And the restrooms were so well managed that there was little to no waiting in lines. Absolutely amazing after some of the ones I’ve experienced in Europe and the U.S. Four or five stalls for hundreds of women, bus loads of women, just doesn’t make sense. This one had possibly a hundred stalls and cleaning people on hand and lots of sinks with soap and towels. Unbelievable! It was also a place to pick up food for our picnic on the beach. Gimpap is the food of choice for picnics–a seaweed wrapped rice roll with all kinds of good things rolled in with it. Somehow I missed the gimpap booths and had a Korean taco, which I don’t know the correct name for, instead. It was delicious.

The tide was way out at the beach, so I picked up a few really nice shells on the stroll to the water’s edge. Along the way we saw kids and families catching small sand crabs. They fry them really crisp and eat them whole. I tried it at one of our dinners and it was quite good–lots of crunch and a little flavor. Another interesting thing was the group of people we strolled by who were buried in sand with all their clothes on and only their heads sticking out. I mean almost totally buried. I’m sure there’s a reason, but I haven’t found it out yet.

Seounu-sa is a Buddhist temple that was established over 1,300 years ago and was at one time one of the largest temples with over 3000 monks. It’s tucked way back in the mountains beside a meandering stream. We were there with a large group of Boy and Girl Scouts who liked to try out their English on us. It was fun talking to them. I also had a prayer inscribed in English and attached to a blue lantern. I don’t know if this is terribly unchristian or not. I do know that the monks I was talking to and who did the writing were most kind and generous and refused to take any payment for their work. It felt very much like the time I lit candles for loved ones in St. Peter’s in Rome. This time I also said a prayer of my own along with the prayer that Jesus taught us: “Our Father. . . ” I also know, it felt good.

In Tamyang we visited a Bamboo Museum and a traditional garden in a bamboo forest. About 70% of Korean bamboo comes from this region. The shops were very interesting. The one thing that many talk about as unique to this area is the bamboo wife. It’s a long, latice woven cylinder made of bamboo. On hot summer nights the sleeper wraps his/her legs around the cylinder and cuddles up to sleep. The idea is that air can circulate and keep the sleeper cool. Sounds logical to me! I didn’t buy one. I just couldn’t see trying to get one in the two pieces of luggage for the trip home.

I loved the Sosaewon Traditional Garden. It is several acres tucked in a bamboo forest with a stream and waterfalls with all the pleasures on nature at hand. There is a sleeping building built among the trees and over the stream, and there is a small thatched building where the owner could go to meditate and write poetry. The garden was built centuries ago by a scholar as a get away place for quiet and solitude. In front of the thatched building is a very straight tree that’s called a Phoenix tree. There the owner could sit in his room, stare at the tree, and contemplate his rebirth. Sound familiar?

Our last stop was the Pagoda Valley, Unju-sa. In this long narrow valley are many stone pagodas and Buddha figures dating from around 827. At one time the valley supposedly had over 1000 pagodas and 1000 Buddhas. Now there are 18 pagodas and 70 images, but it is still very impressive. To get the most impressive shot of the whole valley we–me included–had to climb up this mountain side. Now I thought if monks have been living and working here for thousands of years, there would surely be some sort of steps up the side of this mountain to the top rock and pagoda. Well, there were steps about one third of the way up. After that is was rocks and tree limbs and accommodating branches to cling to to get to the top. The lady in front of me climbing in high heels didn’t make it–she had to turn around and go back down. But I persevered. Wow, the view was magnificent. I’ve tried to include some pictures on the web blog, so you can check it out if you have a mind to. If you double click on the picture it will enlarge so you can see it better.

Our motel was in the countryside and very nice–at least our room was very nice. It even had a bathtub! I don’t think the rest of our group were quite so lucky. We had beds. They had mattresses on the floor, Korean style. We were on the second floor. THey were on the fourth–no elevator. But the gardens and mountain made our breakfast on the deck a true delight.

Our meals were the cuisine of the area. In the bamboo area we ate a lot of bamboo. In the Hwasun area we ate a delicious fish and vegetable soup–and those crunchy little crabs I mentioned before. Everyplace we took off our shoes and sat on the floor. I’m not very good at sitting on the floor for a whole meal and even worse at getting up afterwards, but I persevere–not too gracefully I might add.

It was a beautiful trip through rice fields and vegetable gardens and orchards of all kinds. The mountains were beautiful. The green was really green. The creeks had water in them. If you want better descriptions of nature, I’m afraid you’ll just have to go to Willa Cather. She’s a master!

June 20, 2009

I have been reminded by several that I haven’t written since May, and now that I look back, I realize I wrote about rain. Well, we’ve had lots of beautiful days since then that I have crammed packed with work and doing stuff on the weekends, but here I am ready to write again, and would you believe it has rained all day?

Jangma, also known as the summer monsoon season, starts tomorrow, so I guess Mother Nature was just giving us a foretaste of things to come. It rained hard most of the day and let up to a soft mist by nine o’clock this evening. How do I know? Well, because I was out in it almost all day!

Yep, no more hibernating, reading books, making soup, and watching old movies on TV. No, siree. Dee Ann came by early declaring she would kill for an American Farmer’s Breakfast. Since I read anything and everything I find in English including sidewalk menus on my way to work every morning, I knew just the place. I swear it’s an I Hop in disguise, even down to the tootie fruitie waffles. We had eggs, bacon, tater tots, and French toast sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar and strawberry jam somehow stuck inside.

Then we walked in the rain–did I mention I have a new umbrella?–to a huge appliance store and found the radio I have been looking all over Seoul for—and I got it at a discount. Now I am a happy camper. Seoul has a few good English radio stations with news, weather, talk, and all kinds of music. I just like having a radio on.

Back at home to some internet researching, hanging up the clothes I washed this morning–that will probably take a few days to dry–reading a few chapters in Song of the Lark by Willa Cather–a really good book that I am underlining and writing in the margins to pieces because there is so much I don’t want to lose–and an afternoon nap–nothing like a nap when it’s raining outside, Dee Ann and I went looking for the Seoul Arts Center and the National Center for Korean Traditional Performing Arts Theater.

I had read about a performance on the Haegeum, a two-stringed fiddle, that I have heard only in accompaniment to other instruments, so was anxious to hear it played by a master all by itself. I did the research on line and in the newspaper for the 5:00 performance. We had been to a traditional performance at this theater several months ago, so I felt confident I could find it from the subway stations and all the maps, etc. All this would have been fine except I researched the wrong theater and the wrong performance. I needed to go to the Namsan Village Theater. Instead I got us to the Korean Traditional Performing Arts Theater and a whole different program. I kept wondering why nothing looked familiar! You wouldn’t believe how many times we stopped and asked directions. Even tried to take a taxi once–and we were only four or five blocks from the Center–and the taxi driver just kept shrugging and saying (I think) he didn’t know where it was. Hmmm, he could have been saying, “Stupid Americans! I’m not driving you four blocks straight ahead!”

Finally, we found it. Did I mention it was raining the whole time? This was a magnificent performance. I think it was providential that I once again got lost. The costumes, the music–everything from folk to contemporary–the dance, the singing–it was an hour and a half of relaxing, almost meditative, pleasure. The last group was a folk percussion ensemble of about ten men, all with small drums, who did a kind of energetic circle dance. The thing that made them different from anything I had ever seen before were the tight fitting beeny hats with what looked like car radio antennas on swivels attached at the top, and attached to the antennae were long white streamers. So they could dance, beat their drums, and twist their heads and the streamers did their circular dances in the air. It was wonderful! Quite a sight! And they were all having so much fun with their drum beating and dancing and head tossing and laughing, that so were we. They reminded me so much of the Morris Dancers in England–bright costumes, dancing, and sheer pleasure.

It was pouring down rain when we got out of the theater, and still raining when we got out of the museum store. I wanted a CD of the contemporary performance on traditional instruments called Prelude to Morning, but couldn’t find it—-so I bought something else!

But wait, the best is yet to come.

On the way back to the sub-way station Dee Ann said she was hungry and really wanted Italian food. We had passed a small Italian place in our meandering trying to find the theater, so we did some back-tracking and found the place, The Homey: small, intimate, and smelling very Italian.

We opted for the house special dinner menu which was soup, antipasto, beef tenderloin, dessert, and coffee, all for 35, 000 won, about $30.

I have died and gone to heaven! I have eaten beef–really good beef—beef cooked medium rare to perfection. I still can’t believe it. That is the first American style beef steak I have had since November! But let me start at the beginning. The house red wine was perfect–so I had two glasses. The soup was a creamed red bean–delicious. The antipasto was seared tuna steak covered in roasted sesame seeds and topped with a large grilled mushroom. Actually, I thought that was the beef tenderloin, (what can I say, the lights were dim and it has been eight months!) so I was savoring every bite and expecting dessert when the waiter brings out this beautiful, six to eight ounce beef tenderloin sitting on a bed of sauteed zucchini-tomato-onion and topped with fried, thinly sliced pumpkin. Oh, my gosh. Now I really did take little bites to make the magic last. Dessert was the creamiest ever cheese cake served with strong coffee. Sigh. I have written all this down so I can go back and relive those flavors. But then, I plan to go back.

By the time we got out of the restaurant and our two hour meal, the rain had just about stopped. The subway ride was quick. The walk home to my apartment didn’t take too long. And now I am writing all this down. A nice rainy day.