Dynamic Korea, episode II

Greetings from my apartment in Korea!

  I'm not sure exactly what I covered in the first Korea post, and I'm either too busy or too lazy to go back and read it, so sorry for any repetition.

  In case you don't already know, I was placed in Daegu (or Taegu, depending on who you ask), which is the third largest city in South Korea after Seoul and Busan.  It's huge.  At least by my small-town standards.  Though 2.5 million is pretty large by anyone's standards, I should imagine.  Take a look:

  

It's self given name is "Colorful Daegu," and on a clear day from a lofty vantage point, the moniker really holds true.  I think it's the roofs.  But, as with most things, pictures don't really do it justice.


Here is my apartment:

 

So that's my apartment.  Take note of the exotic Korean products: Cheez-its on the bed, Tropicana orange juice and Tobasco sauce on the table, a Dole pineapple on the fridge. Living on the edge, so they say!  The apartment is quaint and lovely, finely furnished and fashionably decorated with a chic design motif.  Ok, so the last part is complete b.s. (there are about eleven different patterns of wallpaper. My favorite is the checkers in the kitchen), but it is a really homey apartment and I've done well to make it my own.

In case you were worried I've created a bubble of westernization for myself, take a peep at the picture below and allay your fears.

This is a consummately Korean dish, Bibimbop, crafted in my very own kitchen(ette).  The name literally means rice mixed with vegetables, then you top it off with a fried egg and some sauce.  Mashiseo (delicious)!!   Don't ask me what the vegetables are, I have no idea.  I bought them at this amazing open air market near my house.

Which brings me to my next topic: Korean food.  In a word, it's good.  Real good.  So good, we were inspired to make the quintessential Korean dish for ourselves at home.  Food in Korea is done very differently from back at home, particularly in the restaurants.  We think of meals as a communal experience, a time to come together and share food, drink, and each other's company. Koreans take this idea and elevate it, literally sharing their food.  Literally.  Maybe you've heard of Korean barbecue (the greatest dining experience ever), where you're brought raw meat and cook it on a grill built into your table.  It looks like this:

You order your meat, then eat directly off the grill, unfailingly alongside a generous and varied supply of complimentary side dishes. A typical table will look like this...

 ...absolutely covered with all sorts of side dishes (the silver tube hanging down is an exhaust fan, the scissors are to chop up the meat).  I learned shortly after my arrival that this communal, do it yourself procedure is not limited to their version of the barbecue.  In one restaurant we went to, the "tables" were a giant skillet with a rim of wood going around.  They brought us chicken, sauce, and raw vegetables which we stir-fried ourselves.  In another restaurant, they boiled a huge pot of broth and vegetables on the table's built-in gas stove, and we cooked rolled up, freeze-dried beef in the resulting stew.  And aside from the cooperative manner of cooking and eating, every meal is an adventure: even though I've learned to read Korean fairly well, I still haven't the foggiest idea what I'm ordering most of the time.

New vein of thought....

Not to give anyone any cause for worry, but Korea is a country at war.  You've probably heard.  However, it's hardly noticeable when you're here.  I think we hear more about it on CNN in the states than they hear in Korea.  However, there are certain reminders.  I see and hear fighter jets every day, which is new for me.  I'll be in school, teaching students how to pronounce "ruler" (incredibly difficult since they don't distinguish between R and L sounds in Korean), and a fighter will rip through the sky, rattling the windows as they boom past.  Another, somewhat more frightening reminder, are these, found in every subway station:

In case you can't tell, those are gas masks on the left and sandbags on the right (not for floods).  While the jets going overhead are merely an annoyance (and kind of cool, really), the presence of gas-masks and sand bags in every subway terminal is a provocative reminder of the real risks associated with living in a war-state.

And with that reassuring thought (sorry mom!)... until next time, take care and best wishes!