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.
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| a truly beautiful police station |
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| the golf net |
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| 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.
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| Never drive on a rainy day in Seoul. This is parked cars pretending to be traffic in my street one rainy morning |
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| the foot bridge on the street, leading to one of the public schools we pass |
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| the view from the footbridge (this was 1400 on a Monday afternoon and was unusually quiet) |
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| 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!
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| 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.
