Shipwrecked

On the way down from Yudalsan, I stopped by at a serene Buddhist temple and then made my way through some winding alleys before emerging on to a main street. I hailed a taxi to the National Maritime Museum. On the drive there, a limousine passed us. Hanging out from the open trunk was a newlywed couple. We caught up to them at a traffic signal. The taxi driver rolled down his window and attracted their attention, pointing at me. They asked me where I was from.  I answered their query and congratulated them on their union. "Beeoootipool" the taxi driver said of the beaming bride, and the husband and I both nodded in agreement.

The pride of the National Maritime Museum is the wreck of an ancient trading vessel, a 700 hundred year old Chinese barge that used to traverse the aquatic Ceramic Road between China, Japan, and Korea before sinking off the coast of Korea. Artifacts from all three nations were found in the shipwreck of the Sinsan, as well as from India and other far off places.

The special exhibit was also fascinating, bringing to life the tale of a Korean fisherman who was shipwrecked (a recurring theme). He met with mishap after mishap as he tried to make his way home, spending agonizing months in Macao, the Philippines, and China until finally returning to his motherland. During those days, there was a gentleman's agreement among the nations of the South Asia to not harm castaways from other lands and to make their best effort to return them from whence they came. After he reunited with his family, the man took a prominent position in the Korean king's court. He helped those stranded in Korea return to their homelands, making good use of the cultural expertise and language skills he had picked up during his travails.

Mokpo's second most famous natural attraction is Gatbawi, a pair of rock formations shaped like two people wearing traditional Korean hats. The walkway leading to it had been washed away during a recent typhoon. I glimpsed it from behind and then headed to the main square of the city. The World Folk Music Festival was in full swing. I watched old people singing and dancing to traditional Korean music, as had been predicted by a young child at the train station. The seaside concert ended after sun set and was immediately followed by an impressive sound and light show on the 150 meter long Mokpo Dancing Ocean Fountain.

*****

"They make glorious shipwreck who are lost in seeking worlds." - Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

English Teachers

I summited several of the ridges of Yeodalsan and admired the view from each peak. Although farther away than the eye could see, I could hear the distant roars of the Formula One race cars as they whizzed around the circuit during the qualifying session. I ran into a couple of English teachers at the top. One of them was talking about a cartoon she saw. There were a series of pictures of the same Korean female at ages 15, 20, 30, 40, and 50. From ages 15-40 she looked like a gorgeous twenty-something and then suddenly transformed into a curly haired old lady at 50.

They told me they were currently teaching in Mokpo, but planned to travel to India for several months after their contract was up before taking up teaching positions in Kyrgyzstan. Most of the foreigners I encounter in Korea are ESL teachers, soldiers, or students. Teaching English is certainly not a bad way of life for those who are young, white, mobile, and unemployed/unemployable in their home countries. A lot of jobs require no background or interest in teaching, but merely a pulse and melanin depravation.

Whereas in China, there were many young professionals of good pedigree working full time in a variety of fields and disciplines, it is extremely rare to meet one in Korea. This may be because South Korea is further up the development ladder than China and already has enough domestic high level talent, or at least believes it does. The government requires stringent evidence from companies documenting why they need to employ foreign workers for non-teaching positions before granting long term work visas. To secure an ESL job on the other hand, all one has to do according to one of the teachers was "just send an email to Korea, and they will ask you when can you come over."

*****

"The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires." ~ William Arthur

Mokpo

I arrived by train to Mokpo, the nearest large city to the Formula One host town Yeongam, around noon on Saturday. As I exited the station I was welcomed by clever children from a local English language institute, who provided me with some pamphlets about the F1 race and a small souvenir . They pointed me to the stop for the free shuttle bus to the Korean International Circuit. I told them I would go there on Sunday to see the actual race, and asked if there were any events in Mokpo on Saturday. "No, unless you want to see old people dancing." said one child portentously.

I walked towards Mokpo's most famous landmark, Yudalsan, primarily because it was visible from the train station. I stopped for a quick bite at Lotteria, my favourite Korean fast food chain, before starting the ascent. As I was overtaking a couple, they spoke to me in clear English. Most Koreans are completely unable or afraid to speak English, especially to scary looking foreigners. Those that do are usually drunken old men or overzealous Christian missionaries.

This couple was neither of the above. They had just returned from America. The husband had just completed his masters in Philadelphia, and had returned with his now pregnant wife to Korea. She would stay at her parent's place nearby as the birth of their child approached, while the husband would visit her every weekend from his hometown.

They only made it partially up the mountain due to her present state, stopping near the statue of the legendary Korean Admiral Yi Sunsin. Although his troops were vastly outnumbered, the admiral had repelled a Japanese invasion here through guile by making it appear as if he had many more soldiers by using a strategy akin to what farmers do with scarecrows. I bid the couple farewell and good luck, before continuing onwards.

*****

“The soldier who fights to death never dies, but the soldier who fights for existence never truly exists.” ~ Admiral Yi Sunsin

Are You Afraid Of The Dark?

If there is one thing that can give a Korean beauty a more severe pimple outbreak than having to speak English in public, it is a face to face encounter with the Indo-Canadian Temptation. I was walking with a Dutchman towards a building in Seoul, looking for the entrance. A cute girl, ostensibly the greeter, was positioned nearby. She slowly backed away, an apprehensive look crossing her face.

Me: She does not look too hospitable. I think she is afraid.
Dutchman: I would be too... of you.

World of Starcraft

From the string of cookie cutter beauties churned out by the nation's finest surgeons to the bottomless bowls of kimchi provided as side dishes at Korean restaurants, many of the stereotypes about South Korea have been spot on. The gaming culture is no exception, as I would witness firsthand at a television studio in Mokdong during a live broadcast of a Starcraft tournament. As the most technologically savvy and socially awkward group in the world, young Koreans are almost always attached to their electronic devices while awake.

The Korean equivalent of Internet cafes, PC bangs, are usually open 24 hours a day. They can be found around the country, filled with avid gamers around the clock. Gaming addiction is an issue, with the government even attempting to put limits on the number of hours a person can play within a given time frame. There are cases of gamers passing away after marathon sessions at the computer. The victims are not limited to the players themselves. A baby died of malnutrition as her parents were so immersed in the digital world they neglected to feed her.

Starcraft is one of the video games that is wildly popular in South Korea. That is why there are television channels dedicated to broadcasting tournaments where top gamers battle it out in front of live studio audiences. The gamers sit in enclosed booths facing each other, free from the distractions of the outside world. Their antics are displayed on several large screens for the audience to witness. The crowd is evenly divided between foreign and local nerds. There is one girl in attendance, and one more who I am unsure about.

The spectators are offered free pizza during a break, which they gobble up in no time. To the left of the audience are English speaking commentators, and to the right are some extremely lively Korean commentators. They describe each attack and counterstrike between the battling gamers with an intensity that does not match my excitement level, but adds greatly to the atmosphere. Since most gamers rarely see the light of day, a visit to the studio provides an unique glimpse into an usually invisible aspect of modern day life in South Korea.

*****

"Champions rarely talk. They just perform and the world around them talks." - Unknown