another week...

I’m not sure I can write honestly that I had a better week than last but I do have some entertaining stories to tell, mostly about me and how humiliation just seems so inexplicably determined to follow me around. This is what I learnt about Korea, and myself, this week.

There is a K-Pop Tour bus – I will go on it. I think it sounds more exciting than New World Tour, Shingong Tour, New Shingong Tour, Anywhere Express Tour, Lovely Day Tour, White Tour, New Airline Express Tour or Gongbeok Tour.

Kim Yu-na, Korea’s figure skater darling, placed second to a Russian figure skater at the Sochi Olympics. Apparently, in the past this could have been a national disaster (athletes have previously apologized for “letting the country down” when finishing second or third). But this year, the wave of support for Kim Yu-na, irrespective of her result, was uplifting. Support for her efforts was palpable, particularly on social media with the phrase "Thank you,Yu-na" top spot for almost a day on Naver, South Korea's Google like equivalent. My favourite was the ending of the editorial in one of the daily newspapers: “Yu-na, we thank you and love you.” I like a country where the focus is on the athletes amazing and impressive achievements, not simply medals.

I wish I could figure skate.

When you get your hair done at the hairdressers, don’t feel intimidated by the fact that the two hairdressers sit down either side of you to spend the first thirty minutes doing their own hair. The next thirty minutes, in-between laughing at your hair, will be spent on applying their make-up.  When it finally comes to doing your hair, chair chat will be all about Kim Yu-na and they will hug you when you confirm to them that you are not Russian (because of the figure skating controversy). You will then enter their inner circle and spend two hours at the hairdressers, eating kim bap, drinking tea and engaging in conversation (that you don’t understand because it is all in Korean). They will then blow-dry your hair until it is full, high and coiffed just like a true Korean adjuma (maybe not so good if your next appointment is a photo shoot – see below).

Eating in department stores is a communal, culinary adventure. I ate next to a charming man in a very expensive looking suit and across from an elderly lady dressed only in fur and pearls. We had a lovely lunch together. He had noodle soup. She had bim bim bap. I had dumplings. We did not talk but we were happy.

That the refrain of the anthem for the Disney movie, Frozen, “Let it go. Let it go.” becomes incredibly annoying when your three year old runs around the house singing it non-stop (punctuated only by bouts of “I want an iPad.”).

Statistics to note about Frozen:

• it is now the second most viewed foreign film of all time in Korea;
• Korea is second only to the United States in terms of numbers having watched the film;
• "Let it Go" has topped all of the major music charts in South Korea, including being on  top of the Melon list (Korean music list) for two weeks - the longest ever for a foreign-language song and the song has spawned countless covers (see K-Pop covers of Frozen); and
• Frozen's soundtrack has now surpassed Les Miserables (a feat which no-one thought was ever possible as Korea loves Les Mis - check out this parody by the South Korea's Airforce from last year 2013 Youtube ROK Airforce Les Mis parody

Koreans don’t need more mobile phones, as bored man in mouse suit supposed to be selling mobile phones highlights. He had so obviously given up excitedly yelling about products in the shop and was now happy to just lounge about, using the microphone to practice his karaoke (quite possibly he was singing it “Let it Go” but I could not get close enough to confirm (irrational fear of all men in mouse suits)).

That you can drive with a witch’s hat type cone (used across Korea as a “Do not park here unless you pay man sitting in lounge chair somewhere nearby lots of money”) under the front right wheel of your car. But you can’t drive very well.

That Starbucks should have more square tables as I don’t like typing off round tables.

That I pose like a man. This week I had to get a profile shot taken. This would be my first professional photo shoot since Year 12, when I was 17 and my ridiculously good looking high school friends (them, not me) organised a group photo shoot with a professional photographer. My friends were (are) far too good looking and were easily able to stare down the camera and pose like a woman. I could not. To this day, I am still haunted by the photographer’s attempt to take a picture of me in a too tight red dress skulking (I can’t call it posing as it wasn’t) by the East Ringwood railway line. (Part of the blame lies with my Year 8 netball team, when we decided that we would be extra fast if we always caught and threw the ball with an open mouth. I have not been able to close it since when playing any ball-sport or when getting my photo taken.) 

Back to this week’s photo and I was expecting just a simple shot on a stool. How wrong of me. The good-looking 20 something Korean male photographer (just to add to the intimidation) wanted me to pose like a model, prancing around the set, contorting my face and body into various postures while he snapped away. We quickly discovered that I have only three poses. One with my arms crossed, one with my hands on my hips and one with my hands clasped at the front. All with my mouth open. He didn’t like any of these.  Question: what is more humiliating - being told you pose like a man or, when attempting to pose more “softly”, photographer trying to desperately stop himself from laughing and telling me to go back to posing like a man? 

Once the (painful) shooting was over, we then looked at the pictures on the computer to select a shot. Good-looking 20 something year old male photographer begins cropping. Then he starts typing words into Google Translator. I am not sure what Korean to English word he was searching for but when Google Translator kept throwing out words like: wide, tight, full, pretzel, big, ample, immense, broad, heavy, elephantine and whale-like, I think I got the picture. I have no need for Google Translator in my life. Then came the discussion about Photoshop. Where would I like it? What do I need from it? I said no, I would not like it. He said, in that Korean way of completely ignoring what you have just said, “Yes. I agree. You shall have it for your hair.” Sigh. 

  

Last lesson for the week: It's best to not leave the house with three children under seven if you are tired, grumpy, sick, just generally feeling not very happy as it will end in disaster. Actually, even if you are feeling the love it won’t last long when confronted with 7 year old screaming about a sore lip so can’t swim, 5 year old screaming about sore ear and needing to swim and 3 year old just generally screaming because apparently one sausage is not enough and she must have more (as well as an iPad for her birthday). I should take advice from Queen Elsa and  “Let it go.”

Snapshot of a week in Seoul

I fell over three times this week. First time: central Seoul heading down the to the underpass. I was wearing high heel boots at the time (something I have not done for about 7 years since becoming pregnant with my first and totally losing all sense of balance and style (I was not a yummy mummy)). But on this particular day, I thought I would try to wear high heels out for the day like other grown up women instead of my usual trainers. I was also off to the dentist and testing out a theory that the dentist will not find any cavities or feel the need to give you any fillings if you look hot (I was just going for respectable really. Hot would have been an (unobtainable) bonus). Theory proved wrong and I paid out another $700 for two fillings and sweet smile from the dentist, thanking me for being such a wonderful patient (given that I gave him money and for most of our meeting he had me strapped in a chair with tape over the majority of my mouth and a drill constantly on the go in the un-taped part which therefore meant I couldn’t talk, he had  never given me a chance to show him just how un-wonderful I was). Ironically, I fell just as I was thinking what a stupid idea it had been to wear heels out and that, really, I should just embrace the fact that I do love sneakers and, in celebration of that embrace, perhaps it was time for a new pair. Blue or pink? That is exactly what I was thinking as I fell. People laughed. I twisted my ankle. However, I heroically managed to make it up the stairs on the other side, onto the bus and back home where I spent the next three days with my ankle in ice. Fall number two was on the ice this morning. A man rushed to my help and didn’t laugh. I hurt my bottom. Fall number three was approximately ten minutes after fall number two. Ironically (again), I fell as I was thinking about fall number one and, once again, back to those new pair of sneakers. Couple passing me at the time laughed nervously as they delicately skated on the ice surrounding me. They were wearing sneakers. They didn’t fall.

The rest of the week went like this.

First child. Phone call from school nurse on day two of the week to collect first child as she had “high fever.” Day three, second child down. Never even made it to school as was coughing all night long with very, very high fever (much to annoyance of competitive older sister). Off to hospital, where they put a needle in her bottom, a swab up her noise and confirmed she had Influenza A for which we needed no less than eight different kinds of medication. Eight! Third child failed to get to purple school at all this week thanks to an amazing amount of snot and a cough that goes on and on and on…

After watching me cook rice (in a rice cooker no less) and shaking her head in disbelief, our Korean babysitter took over the rice cooking and then, given I failed to protest (seriously, why would you?), she became possessed, and with an adjuma like fury proceeded to take over the rest of the cooking for the entire week! She made pork Chop Chae noodles, cut up the sheets of kim (seaweed), marinated the beef for the weekend, cut up the fruit, peeled the ginger to make an amazing fresh ginger tea for the sick children, and reinforced the message several times of how to cook rice the proper Korean way. She then ironed all the shirts, ironed all the rest of the clothing, cleaned the living room and then let me leave the house to go and get my nails painted. I love her.

Middle child made it back to school on Friday to pat the horses that the amazing Parent Teacher Association arranged to be in school  celebrate the Year of the Horse. Middle child very happy (before starting to cough again). 

I walked past yet another Korean film crew (I think I am up to number nine now) shooting a scene for a movie or Korean TV drama. Have decided this is a sign that I am about to be discovered by a Korean director and will be called upon to play the part of simple yet complicated foreigner, lost in a land she does not understand but desperately wants to, with a deeply troubled past that she feels she cannot escape from, haunted by a run in with the police years ago that will only be resolved by finding the police officer that arrested her as she has just realised that she loves him passionately, as illustrated by her constant need to stop and stare melancholy into the distance as the camera takes a close up of the tears on her cheeks. (This is what I have understood from watching Korean drama).

I spent a fortune at UNIQLO (which I also love but not a much as my babysitter).

Dragged husband to Costco so he could also experience the joys of Costco in Korea. I didn’t take him to the one south side, which is the busiest Costco in the world. I took him to the second busiest one in the world. He said he is never going back.

Forgot to buy rice at Costco where there is only about three bags to choose from. Went to Homeplus to buy rice and found two aisles dedicated to just white rice. I want to know if people really can taste the difference between so many varieties. Although given the strict instructions from babysitter on how to cook rice I suspect that Koreans probably can. Have decided on approach of trying most expensive, followed by least expensive and then settling on a mid-ranged priced one.

I did 10 loads of washing.

I drank 9 coffees.

I made yoghurt and ricotta cheese for the first time. Cheese was good. Yoghurt was not.  

I shopped online for new bag. Found one I really liked (Feed bag). But didn’t buy it. Think I need a grown up black bag first but given my attempt at wearing black high heel boots was not so successful maybe I should just accept that the look of a mature, stylish, sophisticated mum of three is beyond me.

Applied for a job but didn’t get it.  

Walked past only three couples in matching sneakers and two in matching jackets but I was too cold to stop, take gloves off, get out phone and take a picture of any of them.

Almost ran over a cat. Totally its fault.

Sat in Starbucks for approximately eight hours. Not as long as usual thanks to sick children. Starbucks on a Sunday consists of me and 14 Koreans studying (ok, so they are and I am not) and, on average, each person (exclude me here) has in front of them four books, two coffees one computer and/or a Samsung Galaxy phone.

Daydreamed for approximately 4 hours about the following:

• Writing a famous poem that is turned into music (I don’t know why);
• Writing this post
• Leaving my family and escaping to a desert island where waiters serve me cocktails all day and I never do another load of washing again.

Soul to Seoul: Ankle better. Bruise on bottom. Still looking for my new sneakers (and working out ways to hide the purchase from husband).

Understanding Koreans without any Korean?

As I meander my way from one cafe to another (I could pretend that I do other stuff but I really don't and I refuse to consider my everyday chores of washing, cooking and cleaning as real activities or at least activities worth talking about) during these now cold winter days, I often get the feeling that I am existing in a bubble. 

I arrived in Korea with zero Korean language skills and, as this has not progressed much further over the past year (although I do now realise that I have spent the best part of a year saying hello instead of goodbye), I remain in total ignorance as to what people are saying to me. I like to think it is always positive and most likely a compliment (if only you could all be in Julie's world) but, in reality, it could be anything and I would not have a clue. I don't know what is written on signs, where the bus is going (or where it will stop), what is behind that particular shop window or why an advert on the side of the bus has little aliens attacking a woman's leg (see below). 

I totally agree that I should speak Korean. And, again, I apologise to the Uniqlo staff member who yelled at me for, in her view, pretending that I could not speak Korean when, again according to her, I clearly could understand her (I have found that nodding my head at appropriate intervals seems to get me through)! Yes, Miss Uniqlo, you raise a very valid point when you said to me (in perfect English) that I could learn Korean if I wanted to. 

Without speaking a Korean word, however, I am able to order food and drinks (although I am never sure it is my order that I am picking up at the other end of the counter or someone else's as I don't know what is being yelled out by the service staff) and generally buy stuff, including in particular my awesome fluorescent cushion covers made to order at Dongdaemun Market. I am able to engagingly nod at sales staff, (I figure it is always safer to nod one's head rather than shake it) including Miss Uniqlo (I figure it is always safer to nod one's head rather than shake it), guessing that she was asking me in super fast Korean if I knew that the stock was on sale, needed a bag or wanted receipt (she could have also been asking me if I knew that there was a budgie coming out of my bag (given that really did happen one day on the bus in Canberra it is not outside the realm of possibility however it is totally unrelated to this story so I will continue)). I am also able to find out some of what my two year old (who also cannot speak Korean) has done at her Purple School all day: actions for sleep, eat and cry are universal so it appears.

I should probably also stop assuming that just because I can't speak Korean the people around me can't speak English. I spent yesterday walking home from Yonsei University (after waiting for 30 minutes at the usual bus stop I concluded that the bus must have gone off on a magical mystery tour instead of coming to pick me up. I can't speak Korean so could not read the impressively big sign with fancy red writing at the bus stop) singing aloud to Bruno Mars "Just the Way You Are" the twelve or so bus stops home all because I felt that no-one was looking at me or could understand me (I won't own up to the fact that I may occasionally also sing aloud on trains). I remembered, after a few weird looks and people taking a very wide path around me as they passed by, that all Koreans learn English at school (given my singing involves a lot of humming as I can never remember most (if any) of the actual words it probably does not even matter whether or not Koreans have learnt English).  Note to self: stop singing in public. 

But even I were to succeed in overcoming the language barrier by becoming fluent in Korean (although having watched husband heroically struggle to learn it I doubt very much that will ever happen for me) would it really assist me to become wiser in the ways of the Korean? Somehow I don't think that simply by acquiring the language I would then understand: 

• the man who occasionally appears out the front of the local KB Bank and hands out cash to passer-bys from a plain beige envelope;
• the government workers willingly continue to work during summer power cuts, which means no lights on and no air conditioners working;
• that you can buy leg-warmers in the year 2013 (I admit, I did buy a pair); and 
• the ever present love-match dressing (I am trying to understand this though).

But, because I like to count things, because I thought this was easier than learning to speak Korean and because of Miss Uniqlo, I have spent the past month keeping track of specific personality traits that I have encountered each day so I can, with some authority (despite not having any anthropological or social studies training), analyse what is the defining characteristic of a Korean person. My conclusion: if you want to be  Korean but are unable to speak the language, just be generous. 

Generosity towards children: 67/30*

The affection and attention thrust upon children is unbelievable. Routinely over the past month, my snotty nosed, dirty faced, pants falling down children have been showered with lollies, candy, sweeties, nuts, biscuits, chewing gum, chocolate milk, bus seats, train seats, balloons - you name it and it has been provided to them just because they are children. 

Generosity towards families: 6/30 

We had a birthday party for two of the three girls a few months ago and our Korean neighbour down the road turned up with 35 Paris Croissant (bakery/ice-cream chain of stores in Korea) ice-creams for the party guests. Just because. 

We were out walking one day and the weather turned un-expectantly and, as we sought shelter under a shop door front from the bucketing rain, a woman asked us to wait there while she ran to her car and returned with a huge umbrella that she handed to us as her gift to keep us all dry (it was a pink Playboy umbrella so she may have also wanted to have got rid of it but nevertheless the umbrella became ours). Just because. 

On trains, buses and boats (I am lying about the boats but I felt like it should be added in here) our family is always offered seats. Just because!  

Generosity towards older people 30/30

Younger people get up for older people on public transport here. All the time. 

The concept of service: 25/30

Now this one could perhaps be because I often look like a slightly crazed white woman and people want me out of their shop sooner rather than later but the random acts of kindness I am a recipient of astounds me. Examples of actions that are done under the name of "service" include:

• a shop keeper handing me a free diary and postcards as her way of saying thanks for  always walking in (and occasionally buying things like super cool french skirts that I ended up selling on EBAY because super cool french skirts don't look good on me); 
• free bottles of water and/or tissues they hand out at service stations when they fill up your car with petrol;
• free candles and party poppers at the cake store because you bought a cake from them; 
• free extra ribbons from the ribbon shop man; and
• free coffee when your card fails to work at the coffee shop (despite having worked many times before). 

Driving a car: -10/30

I heard a statistic the other day that 60% of Koreans don't feel that it is necessary to stop at a red light and 70% never use an indicator  - like EVER! On the road, generosity apparently vanishes too. The amount of times I have been cut off, beeped at, driven around (as I thought I was being reasonable by not turning right into oncoming traffic and waiting until there was a gap in the road to move) or almost been driven into is considerable over a one month period. I am going to refer to this anomaly as the exception that proves the rule! 

Soul to Seoul: Road rage aside, I don't need the language to understand that I like what I see. 

*Score is the amount of times it happens over a 30 day period.

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)