Sea Creature Smorgasbord

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I knew about this trip for a few weeks, and as soon as I deciphered what it truly existed as, I knew before hand that it had some serious blogworthiness. It certainly didn’t let me down.

A few weeks ago, you may remember, my school had staff field trip to the East Sea that involved some poisonous fish eating, some even more nearly poisonous soju drinking, and some Vegas ready karaoke stylings on the bus ride home. December 12th saw the first time I would attend a school staff overnight trip. This eliminates the one true roadblock to setting aside all reservation, getting home safely.

I believe the sign displayed on the bus windshield says something along the lines of “Jumbong Staff Friendship Trip.” It comes with what I learned were, mixed reviews from the staff, but one should respect the theology behind the events. The entire mission is to give the workers a chance to spend time together, in hopes that it leads to better relations in and out of school. A school runs efficiently based on the people within its walls, so creating a good environment and promoting quality relations between those people is a valuable idea and good investment. In reality, the resurfacing comment I’ve heard is that the female staffers at school aren’t particularly excited about it, their idea of fun may be a bit different, but they oblige out of their customary respect of the principal’s idea. The male staff members simply just want to have a good time. The cultural barriers between the sexes may have something to do with this, but while on this trip you would have had no idea any reservations existed.

The trip began just as the last, we left at 2:30 Friday afternoon. The only notable exception was an absent Mr. Kim who chose not to attend so that he could properly recover from the recent surgery. Without my gateway to the Korean language there, I had a thread of hesitancy, but knew everyone going would be more than accommodating, which they were. Besides, soju is the key master to unlocking everyone’s English vocabulary. In fact, I had wonderful conversations this night with people I didn’t know could speak a word of my native tongue. We began heading West, to where, I still don’t know exactly. I can only tell you with the smallest confidence that we drove through Daebudo Island which is in the West Sea (between SK and China for the geography majors in the crowd) south of the large western suburb of Seoul, Incheon.

We pulled up to a hotel, the Hawaii Hotel as a matter of fact (principal tried to convince me the name was Hawa 2), set against a beautiful rocky coastline reminding me of Oregon. We basically threw our things in our rooms, and headed back to the bus. It was off to experience the specialty of this particular area, a wonderful assortment of sea creature cuisine.

We pulled into another building one would think was more of a warehouse than a destination restaurant. That observation was actually more accurate than not; it was both a warehouse and a destination restaurant. The first floor was a fully functioning fish market. It caught my eye through glass doors we passed as the group began up the stairs, so I ducked in for a look around. I was instantly transported to some kind of scene from the Discovery Channel. Huge, waist high aquariums held every imaginable sea animal, some even beyond imagine. Eels, clams, any kind of mollusk you can fathom, halibut, all shades and sizes of saltwater fish, stingrays, and things that looked like earthworms on steroids. I watched a worker attack some kind of spherical thingamajig with tubers and suction cups bursting out of what looked to be tough red and yellow skin. I sought the science teacher for this inquiry and got some kind of answer that, after multiple people were questioned and numerous cell phone dictionaries pulled out, got no definitive English answer besides… ‘delicious.’ I couldn’t help but think that I am going to eat some kind of creature that may not be completely discovered by western science. I was happy to notice there were several more in its particular tank so at least I didn’t take part in the extinction of something unknown, if that’s any consolation.

After my wanderings through the far more intense fish market than anything at the Pike’s Place in Seattle, I headed up stairs for the beginning of the evening. I was honored with a mention in the opening soju toast from the principal, also wishing us well and celebrating a good past year. And thus began the sea creature and soju smorgasbord. The first round consisted of five or six different plates of things I’ve never seen , let alone consumed, followed by a large plate of raw fish. I wasn’t too crazy about the former, and relieved when the door from down below burst open with plates of the fish. Round three consisted of some kind of delicious soup served on top of a portable range top that resembled more of a camping stove than anything else.

Off to, none other than, the No Rae Bong. This was a special session in the singing room for me, because I’ve never packed twenty people that were, dancing and singing and drinking and snacking and tambourine playing into a room the size of a typical bedroom since college. It was loud, hot, exhausting, silly, and some of the most fun I’ve had. My lineup consisted of Mr. James Blunt, ‘You’re Beautiful,’ the classic 4-non blondes, ‘What’s up,’ and one of the best renditions of ‘O-bla-di O-bla-da’ that has ever been dropped in this country, I’m sure it was Grammy worthy. Let me practice in case I get a call soon…I want to take a second and thank God for giving me the talent and opportunity, my parents for always supporting me, all my family for always being there, my friends for believing in my karaoke skills all these years, and my wonderful Korean backup singers that really polished up the songs in every way imaginable.

We headed back to the Hawaii Hotel afterwards, where I was roped into a powwow at the beach front with the remaining survivors. It was cold, clear night and the lights from the distant islands twinkled like stars. The moon had a spectacular glow to it, like that of a Hollywood script, while clouds danced in front of it, aurora-esque, never revealing a same moon. The reflections upon the West Sea were abruptly halted from the receding tide water. It was the perfect backdrop to bring out another camp stove to the picnic table for a night cap of Rameeyon.

We then headed upstairs to the principal’s room. They wanted to show me a type of card game they described as Korean Poker, what I later found out as Godori (or Go Stop). The deck consisted of many thick plastic cards, with many different pictures of flowers on them. For my knowledge, and I was really in no condition to be learning a new card game at this point, they organized all the cards on a blanket on the floor as everyone was filtering into the room. What really confused me was that all of groups of cards, in numbered piles 1-10, had no actual numbers on them, just flowers. On top of that, none of the pictures matched each other. I thought they were playing a trick on me, until I saw the action get underway. When I say action, I mean it. This is no Vegas gentleman’s game, you pick a card (or tile may be more accurate) from a center pile and throw it down onto another card as hard as you possibly can. That is no euphemism; the first card to get spiked was almost frightening. You literally pick a card, raise it as high as you can while determining where to wing it, and hurl the poor thing down. Quite entertaining to say the least, and to describe the little bit of game I watched through the violence, I can really only tell you there may have been some kind of pairing up or making runs with the cards. But then again, there were no numbers anywhere.

I excused myself from the game after finally giving up and was taken back to the male staffers room. I must have overlooked this fact when I first threw my bags into a corner a few hours back, but there were no beds in this hotel room. This must’ve been known to be a difference in cultures to some clever observer in the group, because as I entered one of the office workers from school, Boxer Kim, appeared behind me and helped me set up a makeshift cot on the floor. I’ve seen these kinds of pads in stores, too thick to be quilts, but not really mattresses either, so I had some kind of vague idea what was happening when the blankets started flying in my direction.

Korea, I’ve observed, is in the grips of a revolution. A revolution of sorts, I should say. It is in the midst of changing from the traditional ways of doing things, i.e. sleeping on the floors and squatty toilets, to a more western approach. This was one of those things where you say to yourself, ‘I’m glad I’ve been drinking because I wouldn’t otherwise be game for sleeping on the floor.’ It was surprisingly comfortable, the mattress worked wonders, the ubiquitous in-floor heating system kept me toasty all night, and the quilt made things as cozy as anywhere. Even in the morning, when I had most of my whits about me (okay, soju mornings give you very few of your whits when you wake up), I was happy to curl up on my little spot of real estate. I must thank my two older brothers for always picking on me and making floor-sleeping second nature during my teen and adolescent years. The moral of the story here is, and this shows itself time and time again, that this culture, dating back over 8,000 years, has it all together. I’ve taught my students this, and sometimes even my friends; different isn’t always either better or worse, it may just simply be different.

The next morning was one of those hazy mornings, where you really don’t feel like you’re inside your own body, just kind of a passerby in the events you are witnessing. We got up, took a group photograph and went off to breakfast. I don’t know how this happens, especially on a morning like this day, but Koreans always look absolutely spectacular. All the ladies looked as if they could step right into a classroom and be a professional, while the men, even in track suits, exuded this confident style. Maybe someday I, too, could exude confident style… we’ll see. I followed the crowd, teetering on the fence line of a head explosion, bowel explosion, stomach explosion, or any combination of the three. I just chalk it up to, ‘Korean Custom.’

We arrived at a nice restaurant on the beach, not far from the hotel. This was my first experience of a truly Korean breakfast, and I just couldn’t do it. The first true cravings of western food, particularly greasy hash browns and a western omlette, hit me extra hard. Everything, as usual, was dripping of kimchi spice, and although I have come to revel in the world of kimchi, one whiff of it would have sent me over the edge. I read the name of the restaurant which was “Something Soup,” so I looked forward to the main course. It, too, was a version of spice similar to the kimchi, but letting it settle in my bowl for a second, I could skim the broth off the top and taste its beauty. It was like drinking liquid life. It made me feel like a million dollars… ah, won. Now I know what all those explorers were searching for when they ran into America… those darn Asian spices!

We stopped at another fish market, larger than the one connected to the restaurant the previous night, so that the staff could do a bit of shopping. The area is famous for its seafood while Yeoju more for its rice, so the staff took advantage of our locale. The ride home was uneventful, but the soju was still flowing. I nursed a cup of it as long as possible until we were dropped off at the school. Mission accomplished!

While all this was happening our Cass was lounging on the couch, catching up on some beauty sleep since, “you look tired, take a rest.” I was about ready to sleep for a day and a half while she was just finishing up. She decided to head into Seoul with a group of the other English teachers to catch a DJ everyone was talking about. I’ll have her describe the scene…

Hello again! Life is pretty well. But I can definitely tell that the kiddos are ready for Christmas break. There is much more eye rolling than ever before, even from my favorites! While Jon skirted off with those crazy teachers, I did take a rest. And fell asleep at 9pm. I woke the next morning to meet four of the other native teachers for a lovely hike outside of Yeoju. This of course did not happen at any quick rate. We were supposed to meet at 9am at the bus terminal. I was the first to arrive and was greeted by one the most over zealous, high on life Koreans… and I can safely say that he is the most excited person I have ever seen. Kim JuWon was to lead our simple day hike. We then loaded into a vehicle and went to the county education office. There we were greeted by some more enthusiastic hikers. We sat for half an hour or more and had coffee (one of the tiny cups they have here) and visited with one another. Then we were “invited” upstairs to the Superintendent’s office. There were about ten others waiting for us, decked out in their expensive hiking gear, all matching with backpacks and hiking sticks. We then were to sit down at a fancy table where they gave us water, with two brown squares inside to be mixed with a fork…and all I know is that the description included the word fiber and do DRINK SLOW. Which of course, the first two sips were slow, then the superintendent was ready to leave…so seconds later he said HURRY! We hiked for about three hours. Not hard, but long…and since we all had other plans (like to call Lacy Buck, I’m so sorry  ) it started to become pretty long. The hike ended at Yeoju hot springs where you could “spa/sauna” as the Koreans say. Oh, no thank you. I’m still not ready for that. So we waited for ½ hour while the others soaked. Next, oh next…it was time for some traditional…spicy…for your health…Korean FISH HEAD SOUP! No!!! They were so excited for us to all try this traditional dish which included whole fish, fish eyes, teeth, and brains, eel heads, small shrimp, potatoes and dumplings. It took everything all of us foreigners had to drink the broth surrounding the fish and other sea life parts…and do it with a smile. ‘What do you want to drink?’ One yelled. ‘Beer or Soju’ wow, Soju has never sounded this good. But we all replied beer. He returns with ‘too expensive, we drink Soju’. Oh, okay, thanks for asking. Nothing happened fast that day and I finally returned home at 4:30pm (sorry Lacy). I talked with Jon for a few and seeing how exhausted he was, opted for an invitation to go to Seoul.

Working quickly I got to the bus terminal at 5:45pm to meet with my lovely and wonderful friends Reagan, Tom, and Alex. We arrived in Seoul around 7:30pm checked into our 30,000won/night hotel and headed to Hungdai to eat. We settled for Italian and then headed to the ultra chic, 5 star W hotel. A famous DJ from France was there that night and we danced from 11pm to 4am, almost with out a rest. Went back to the hotel and slept til ten. Renata and I then did a little Christmas shopping and ate Mexican until it was time to go home. All in all, a pretty wonderful weekend. This Saturday is my school trip. But since I am a girl, it will be much less exciting than any of the several trips that Jon goes on. Just part of the culture, I guess.

By the way… I was visited by a Korean Buddha that night in my dreams. For some reason, he was wearing a pizza delivery outfit, had a few days of growth on both chins, his sauce stained collared shirt stretched to just above his belly, and he was in the midst of polishing off an extra large pepperoni deep dish. Apparently, that is what my subconscious thinks of the ancient deity. Licking his fingers in the dark, he turned to me and said, “Jon,” and at this point I was impressed he knew English, “I think you’ve been pretty patient this football season. I know that you’ve got two important football games that you’re about to get up and watch. Now,” he looked off to the distance as if in deep concentration, he dramatically turned to me, cocked his head and nonchalantly said, “I’m afraid I can’t let both your teams win. I’m sorry about that. I will, however, let you choose the team.”

“Beep… Beep…Beep” my watch alarm went off. 4:30, and I never got to pick the team. I rose and pulled up the NCAA website to watch my cousin Paul play the division 3 national semifinals. It just so happened that my alma mater University of Northern Iowa played in the FCS national semifinals about three hours later. It was early, but it was real American football, and I was personally vested in both games. Congratulations Paul and the UW-Whitewater Warhawks, you are headed to another championship. As for my purple and gold, Buddha gave me hope he was kidding, but in the end, I listened to the University of Richmond score the game winning touchdown with 14 seconds remaining in the game, I guess we’ll just have to wait another year.

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