Christmas in Korea

The snow started falling a few weeks ago and, for a moment, I was super excited to put on my thickest coats, woolly socks and mittens and head out into the whiteness for some snow angel fun (after struggling to appropriately dress three little ones the excitement soon wore off for me and has continued to dampen as the temperature continues to plummet). The snow brought with it the cold which brings with it a guilt-free need to drink hot chocolate whenever you leave the house and upon returning (necessary in order to stay warm). It also brought with it some questionable dressing in an effort to stay warm (I am proud to announce that I wear Ugg boots outside and it is awesome for keeping feet warm). But, by far, the best thing about the first snow flurry of the season is that it means Christmas is coming to Korea. 

Back home, the tell-tale signs of the coming of Christmas include that the clothes get a little smaller, the nights get a little longer, jars of chocolate sultanas get put on the kitchen table and the small, slightly brown patch of grass that holds the Ringwood Clock Tower by the Ringwood train station, gets invaded by a slightly faded nativity scene that has not changed in the 37 years I have seen it. And then there is the Myer Christmas windows in the city and the endless Christmas carols played in every department store that you dare enter. 

What then to expect of the coming of our first Christmas in Korea? Would we be able to purchase some Christmas themed decorations (Christmas is not Christmas without tinsel that the kids can rip up into tiny little pieces and distribute all over the house)? What about some Christmas themed food (I am quite partial to my minced pies)? Most importantly, given we are away from family and friends, would be be able to feel the Christmas spirit in Seoul? 

Clearly I had forgotten for a moment that I am in Seoul, a mega city where you can find anything, anywhere, anytime! I think it is fair to say that Seoul embraces all things Christmassy with the fervour of a crazed three year old unwrapping her first Christmas present that has been sitting under the tree unfairly tempting her for more than a day! Christmas music, particularly the Glee covered versions of Christmas carols, started to be heard around about middle of November in Starbucks. Christmas trees were first spotted in the last week of November and the variety and number of them has only grown since (white, red, green, tall, small, thin, fat - the list goes on). Santa outfits in all sizes are available everywhere, including at the stationary shop down the road which has turned its sidewalk displays into a Christmas extravaganza of trees, lights, baubles and cards. Whole shops have sprung up in Namdaemun Market dedicated to Christmas ornaments, lights and snowmen (whole families of snow-people should you be so inclined) and Christmas themed public art, covering everything from nativity scenes to winter wonderlands, omnipresent. 

Added to this, our troop have spent the past few weeks at school participating in Christmas shows and creating Christmas craft, our new family Christmas tree has been put up, presents have been picked up from the post office and Christmas movies have been watched (somewhat surprisingly, I have found that National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is not an appropriate movie choice for a 5 year old). 

Yet, despite appearances of similarity, this Christmas still feels so very different to last Christmas. Maybe it is me. With age (and children) comes change. Maybe it is Seoul, where Christmas Day is not an official public holiday (Chuseok remains the big holiday of the year for Koreans), we can buy our bread fresh on the day, we can go to the supermarket if we have forgotten anything (and not to the ridiculously expensive petrol station on the corner), we can duck out for a quiet coffee alone in between present unwrapping and we can even take our youngest to childcare for the day if we felt so inclined (no, I won't but I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it just for an hour or two). Maybe it is me in Seoul that is the determining factor here. I think it is probably the latter. 

The weather is a notable contrast. Last year, we celebrated Christmas in shorts and a t-shirt, spent some time in the pool and  ate outside in 30-plus degrees. Here, it is ridiculously cold, with top temperatures this festive week reaching around 2 degrees if we are lucky. I am currently wearing "napping tights" underneath my jeans to stay warm. But, because of the cold, I feel it is now totally appropriate to own a Christmas themed jumper despite years of derision aimed mostly at my mother for wearing Christmas themed attire. I want a blue one with snowflakes on it or maybe a red woollen one with reindeer flying across it. How amazing will it be if husband and I both have a matching festive jumper to kick off Christmas day with the day with? Alas, they are proving hard to find this year so, while I continue in my quest for an appropriate Christmas jumper day accessory, I have successfully purchased a Christmas type beanie - the bigger the pom-pom the better! 

Because of the change in weather, or maybe because tradition is growing strongly in my belly, the whole eating a roast idea becomes so much more appealing. We want the oven on, we want roast meat, potatoes and pumpkin with rich, velvety gravy and we need that chocolate pudding for dessert. This requires immense organisation in terms of timing as Korean ovens are not really that big (on table gas barbecues are more the rage here for your various marinated meats to go with your rice and seaweed) so your meal must be done in stages and the stress, blame it on the constant fear of food poisoning genes inherited from your mother, will rise up like never before!  

Christmas day music is another new experience. Previously, we have had on Christmas carols from the various concerts around the country and at Mum and Dad's carols from Kings College in the UK would have been on high rotation. This year, we searched for appropriate Christmas music that was not the Fairies (I like them but two years of non-stop Fairies Christmas carolling can wear you down) and this is what we ended up with:

Say hello to Crayon Pop. A K-Pop band famous for wearing helmets and singing a crazy song called Bar Bar Bar. 

Soul to Seoul: Christmas in Korea wearing helmets, matching Christmas jumpers and drinking one hot chocolate after another!

True Love - South Korean style: Part 6. Michiel and Marieke - a modern day love story.

Michiel and Marieke (not their real names) claim that when they first met there was no indication that they would end up like this. Theirs was a usual courtship. Meeting at university, they developed a deep love for each other through a shared liking of the band Doe Maar (Michiel was particularly good at singing Smoorverliefd while Marieke knew all the dance moves), red wine from Chile, cheese from France and a healthy interest in hiking and biking, just like all good Dutch citizens.   

Their first date showed nothing that may have set off alarm bells. They went to a movie, followed by a couple of Heinekens at a mutually convenient cafe. Normal. Couple travel followed soon after. Together, they visited Africa, Australia, traversed most of Europe and had a drunken weekend in Bruges (or was that me?). Finally, they were married in 2004 and were soon blessed with babies. They bought a house, enrolled the kids in swimming classes and caught up with friends on the weekends. So far, life was good: all seemed normal. 

Time passed, with some lovely couple moments interspersed: the occasional finishing of each others sentences; an uncanny ability to correctly order for the other; and the intimate splitting in half of the last slice of pizza. There was even some complete orange-dressed family moments, but given everyone in the Netherlands wears orange on days of national pride (the orange worn so prolifically for soccer matches is homage to the heritage of the Dutch Royal Family - the house of Oranje-Nassau), it never seemed as though anything was out of the ordinary. Looking at their past you could not have guessed what was to come when they moved to Seoul. 

It was winter when they arrived. Cold and snowing. Boots and jackets were needed. His was blue, hers was purple. She got colder. She bought a thicker jacket. It was blue. "Because it was the thickest one there", she claimed. We believed her. 

As Spring sprung, the matching colour jackets were put away and forgotten, or so they said. Spring brings with it a desperate need to join Seoul's fluorescent dressed crew and spend parts of one's weekend amongst the cherry blossoms in one of Seoul's many mountains or parks. Michiel and Marieke were no exception. Their love of hiking taking them across Seoul from palace wall to palace wall, from national park to national park, from Namsan Tower to the Secret Garden. As the weather got warmer still, we spotted matching brown loafers on their feet. "Just a coincidence", she said and put it down to the fact that it is hard to find shoes for bigger feet in Seoul. We had no reason to doubt them. 

One sunny summer's day they invited us to join them for a family stroll up Bukhan Mountain in Bulgwang. Great views of the city, they promised. We gathered our crew, they gathered theirs and, as organised, we met at the designated subway stop only a few minutes late. The effect of the metro coffee I had grabbed en route was taking a while to penetrate my system (rough night before with one of our munchkins) so I was a bit slower than usual. Husband throughout had no idea (male observation skills being generally poorer in this regard). We greeted them, exchanging the traditional Dutch three kisses, and proceeded on our way. As we made our way up a very large hill, stopping briefly to eat a bunch of bananas, another family making their way back down insisted on giving us their picnic mat that they had finished with, such is the generosity of Koreans. We added that to our bags and kept walking. After another hour or so, with all six kids desperate for a drink, we rested on the steps of a Korean pagoda and that is when I noticed: Michiel and Marieke were love-matching! Complete outfit love-matching. Blue on top, khaki on bottom and those brown loafers. On both of them. At the same time. In public. 

Planned? Yes. They alleged they had been urged on by my fascination with the trend and wanted to experiment whether there would be any reactions from Koreans if they, clearly a non-Korean couple, went out dressed in love-match (which, btw, there was not). 

Shocked? Absolutely! But, when I recovered from my initial excitement of the moment (and had finished making them pose for numerous photographs), to be perfectly honest, I think it would be more accurate to describe my feelings more akin to jealousy. They insisted their love-matching made them feel no differently but I saw them and their conspiratorial glances at each other. Their same-same dressing gave them power. Their bond was strong. Their love was real. They were holding hands as we walked. They liked it. They will, I expect (and for the purposes of my blog I hope so), do it again. Perhaps there is nothing more romantic than, three kids later, ten years of marriage, living in three different countries, choosing to love-match. 

Where does that leave me? I have three kids. I have almost ten years of marriage. But I don't have love-match. The other night I couldn't work out whose black UNIQLO heat tech thermal top I was putting away - was it husband's or mine because we both have one (I was also on strike from putting away his clothes so I had to make sure I had the right one in hand). This winter necessity is the closest we have got to love-matching so far and I don't think it really counts as it is more like underwear! Should I fear for our love in the meantime? Are we doomed if we don't start converging? I am after new sneakers for Christmas (navy blue New Balance with a bright blue trim would be perfect). Husband could also do with a new pair. In the interests of a long and happy life together, perhaps it is time?

the happy couple

I think I'm turning Japanese (Korean). I think I'm turning Japanese (Korean). I really think so. 12 signs that you might be turning Korean.

Remember the song, "Turning Japanese" with the lyrics: "I'm turning Japanese. I think I'm turning Japanese. I really think so"? It is a song by the English band, The Vapours, and has been explained by the band members as an angst ridden song about a boy continuously staring at a picture of his lost girlfriend and, as a result, he starts to turn into something unexpected, in this case Japanese. As unbelievably catchy as the tune is (try getting it out of your head now) the song is not as helpful as one might have first expected given its title. Upon closer inspection of the lyrics, and with the objectivity that comes with not, currently, being a love-angsty teenager (sad, as those were good days), "Turning Japanese" fails to explain exactly what signs to look out for should you think you are becoming Japanese, or in my case, Korean. So, I have developed my own list of what the tell-tale signs are (12) that might indicate you may be in fact turning Korean. 

I will be confident that I am turning Korean when: 

• I attack (with a certain firm kindness) random babies/small children and proceed to adjust their hats, coats, socks etc., pull their chubby cheeks and then barrage their mum with information on the status of their baby, i.e. your baby is cold, hungry, wet, tired, and is a boy  even though she is clearly a girl! 
• I happily pay well over five dollars for a cup of coffee and then spend the rest of the day in the warmth of the cafe that has free, fast wi-fi, heating, music and no-one questioning me after five hours or so whether I have somewhere else to go or need to order something else. 
• I meticulously rearrange my food/drink at said cafe (even if it is just a cup of coffee or slice of cake) and proceed to take a few photos of it before beginning to consume.

this morning's cup of coffee

• I have no hesitation in joining the metro stampede onto the train so as to bag that one empty seat and I do this while never raising my head from my mobile phone and continuing to text frantically. 
• I have no need for personal space in public places.

this is not peak hour

• I bow my head upon entering and leaving anywhere, including especially at car park attendants.
• I carry out my weekly food shop at at least four different places one of which includes fruit off the back of a truck down a secret alley-way.

• I know never to be the first to embark upon crossing the road when the little man turns green (sometimes this can lead to an awkward stand-off between people as everyone waits for someone else to sacrifice themselves). 
• I am unbelievably generous to complete strangers and will happily hand out candy, biscuits, umbrellas, camping mats, and advice on which train is best to take. I will return found mobile phones that day and am perfectly comfortable with leaving my bag, wallet, phone, computer on the communal cafe table as I step out to the make-up shop, order coffee, run to bathroom etc., safe in the knowledge it will all be there when I return. Because it will be.

• When I get older I will wear fluorescent hiking gear for a quick walk to the shops.
• I always look fabulous, like always (seriously how is this possible?), even if it means some re-doing of hair, make-up, or clothing adjustments while on train/bus/in front of shop window (see point 5). 
• I willingly love match with my partner. What is a better expression of one's love and devotion than identical jeans? Perhaps only topped by a sweater that clearly states fidelity!

super

same sweater from the front (if only she took her jacket off)

Soul to Seoul: Almost one year in and I have a long way to go before I turn Korean (11 and 12 in particular are proving hard to accomplish and I am beginning to get really strange looks as I carry my laptop to the bathroom with me). 

The sculptures of Seoul

One of my (many) recurring daydreams is that I get to erect a massive sculpture in the newly renovated (dream) front yard (dream) of my home (also a dream). It is colourful. It is made entirely out of recycled materials. It is big. I am not sure yet whether it is animal like or just simply shapes and colour but it is cool. And it has involved numerous cans of spray paint (who doesn't love a bit of spray paint action) and scraps of plywood as well as the odd bicycle wheel. Being in Seoul has only added to my vision. I am now thinking big. Really, really big. Gold would be good. Garish, gaudy and glittery will be my guiding themes and any plausible links to the house behind the sculpture or to the surrounds will not be necessary. A fancy name on a brass plate will be also be required. I take my inspiration from the streets of Seoul: the city of sculpture! 

Seoul's sculpture craze might have existed well before 1988 but it went into overdrive that Olympic hosting year thanks to the national government passing the Art Decoration Law, requiring owners of a new buildings to commission artworks for public view worth 1% of the total construction costs of the building. In 1988, population of Seoul was already huge, standing at 10, 286, 503 people. Today, the Seoul Capital Area (a true mega-city and, according to Wikipedia, the largest city proper in the developed world and the world's second largest metropolitan area) has a population of over 25.6 million people and is home to over half of the total population of South Korea. All these people have to live, work and shop somewhere so the number of buildings in Seoul has also dramatically increased over the past 25 years. This means that the Art Decoration Law has had a profound effect on city's  landscape. The Korea Times calculates that between 1995 and 2008 10,684 public art works were erected (I can't locate more up to date statistics). Even for a mega metropolis such as Seoul, that means a lot of public art work has been constructed!

Is it good? I'm not an art critic (and if you could see some of the things I like (think fluro and a lot of it) that is probably a good thing) but I think most of the sculptures around town are really, really good. If nothing else, a splash of gold in front of an otherwise boring urban square, a giant whale skeleton in amidst concrete office buildings, a bubble of coloured beads placed out the front of a innocuous cream apartment building, upside umbrellas strung out between office buildings or a random rock formation perched in front of a gleaming mirrored tower, juxtaposed between Seoul's five royal palaces from the Chosun Dynasty (some 500 years ago), just adds to the new versus old versions of Seoul that crazily co-exist. 

Some of my favourites so far (not all have name plaques)...

The Man who holds the Light

Greeting Man. He stands out the front of a bank and is roped off, just in case you wanted to get closer!!

Spring: the sculpture that looks like a conch shell, located at the start of the Cheonggyecheon Stream in central Seoul

Who doesn't like a piano as a sculpture?

Umbrellas as sculptures

Every office building needs a whale skeleton out the front!

    My photographic skills are not good enough to capture the true size of the Hammering Man. He is huge.
    A normal size person might just make it up the the ankle of the man.

The Light of Hope

The Berlin Wall in Seoul (it really is)

There are no kangaroos on the way to the purple school

I used to hate brussel sprouts. My mum would force them on us every week or so and they were really the most revolting mushy, squished, tasteless, wet lettuce kind of things. But now I actually don't mind them, and with a little bit of olive oil and anchovies on top I will even order them occasionally at fancy restaurants. It has taken a while though. Like around 25 years to be exact. So my question is: does it take 25 years to get used to any new thing? I don't think it is going to take me 25 years to get used to the new pair of shoes I may have just sneakily purchased on e-bay and am currently hiding from husband in the back of my closet whereas it will probably take me more than 25 years to get used to the new sweet potato flavoured mocha from Starbucks (there are somethings that you perhaps you should just never get used to).  What about moving countries? How much time does it take to adjust to new surroundings: does it take a week, a month or a year or more to become very familiar with your new world that the  previously unexpected becomes the expected. I think it is 67 days, or two months and 6 days. This is based on two experiences: 

1. Walking home from the Shepherd's Bush chain of the pub "Slug and Lettuce" in London. It took precisely two and a half months to stop jumping at the sight of the two drunks in in their dark grey trench coats lounging the door frame of the alleyway three doors down from the pub to realise they were very friendly nice men who just wanted a chat; and 

2. The walk to the purple school here in Seoul. 67 days ago we started walking to the purple school which has kindly taken on child number three and 67 days ago there were a lot of strange things on the road. But yesterday, 67 days later, as we wandered down the road nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In 67 days the unfamiliar has become familiar, the somewhat strange has become conventional and even the absolutely bizarre has become somewhat normal and expected. 

The danger in this new-found normalcy is that I will soon stop recognising what is was that I first thought to be unusual! So, in an attempt to preserve the uniqueness, I spent yesterday's walk photographing the differences that I encounter in my 15 minute walk to the purple school here in Seoul versus the 30 minute journey to the local school back home. And here are the results. 

Nature versus the urban jungle

At home we would walk past big open spaces of parkland, loads of trees, cockatoos, swooping magpies, the occasional kangaroo (I am not making this up) and four playground sets for kids. In Seoul, there are sometimes trees in the ground (although Seoul has a habit of digging up trees only to replant new ones) but usually you find them for sale in one of the four tree shops I pass (one also sells flowers but the rest really do sell trees). We also pass a fish shop, three veterinary shops (which sell poodle prams and matching booties and jackets for your freshly, freakishly groomed canine) and two small blocks that have been converted into playground for both kids and adults,  particularly utilised by the over-60 crew who gather here in their fluorescent tracksuits to rotate hips and legs, practice their hula hoop routines, conduct Michael Jackson inspired moon-walk type exercises on sleek, silver machines and feverishly bench press and stomach crunch. I am yet to see a kangaroo on our walk. 

Facilities

Starting with coffee shops (which are the bastion of civilisation), here, I pass six if I walk on the right hand side of the road and seven if I walk on the left. I would not pass one at home. Not one. Should I not want my coffee from a so called coffee shop, then I also have the choice of three CU stores, the equivalent of 7-11's, where you can buy your coffee ready made from the fridge and heat it up in the store provided microwave and rest for a while with the school boys eating their instant noodles in the paper cups on the plastic chairs provided out the front.  

Coffee shops are not the only things taking up shop space on the road. I also have the choice of:

• five different pharmacies (two mega and three small); 
• four bakeries (including two of the same chain);
• two gas stations (thankfully no hanging bunnies in these ones, see earlier post);
• one police station; 
• two local schools as well as ten different Ivy league Hakwons (special after school for profit institutions for Korean kids because 8 to 3 is not a long enough school day here);
• four hardware stores (including one that seems dedicated to watering cans, one that sells only brooms and one that sells only concrete);
• two stationary shops;
• one golf driving range;
• five sushi shops;
• six Korean BBQ restaurants;
• two banks on the right and four on the left (real banks, not just machines). On special days there is a man out the front of one of them offering cash from a brown envelope to lucky passerby's;
• three nail bars, two hairdressers and an assortment of massage parlours should I feel the urge to look beautiful before or after visiting the purple school. 

With the exception of one public school and perhaps now one pharmacy (at the time I left home, there was an ongoing dispute between the local and federal government as to whether a pharmacy was allowed to open at the local shops) the Canberra walk involved none of the above.

a truly beautiful police station

the golf net

one of the many hakwon signs

Traffic

At home, buses would occasionally dawdle past us as we ambled to school. Sometimes there might be a traffic jam of about ten cars long. Occasionally, we would have to save a hedgehog from the side of the road. And our home suburb was the proud recipient of its first traffic light last year. On our Seoul sojourn: buses thunder past us in less than 30 second intervals on the four lane local road; motorbikes are not content with using the road and believe that the footpath is also theirs for the taking; and, generally, Seoul drivers do not believe in road rules, this includes choosing whether or not to stop at one of the three traffic lights. And we pass poodles in prams. 

Never drive on a rainy day in Seoul. This is parked cars pretending to be traffic in my street one rainy morning

the foot bridge on the street, leading to one of the public schools we pass

the view from the footbridge (this was 1400 on a Monday afternoon and was unusually quiet)

a poodle in a pram

We never walked past a Porsche on our way to school nor did one pass us. I parked next to a Porsche in the local supermarket car-park (next to the purple school) the other day. Reverse parked more to the point. (Just to note that my dad gave up teaching me to drive when I managed to get the car sideways when I attempted to reverse out of our driveway one day). 

The people

Finally (and I was always going to get here) we never passed any love-match couples in Canberra (not that I have seen anyway). Here, at least a pair of matching sneakers passes us every other day. I am informed by my dad though that he did stalk a couple in Melbourne last week to get a love-match photo for me so perhaps the trend is coming to an Australian town near you!

Not my best love match photo but a shoe match nevertheless

Soul to Seoul: a shorter walk but an altogether different walk for this soul in Seoul.