I'm here in Haeundae on the 239th leg of my Starbucks Korea Tour 2006. This time, I'm sipping a chai latte, having just downed a muffin-like entity called "coconut-green tea bread."Unless I'm willing to take out a second mortgage or sign papers agreeing to donate a kidney, there's no restaurant serving a breakfasty-breakfast (i.e., a Western-style breakfast that includes eggs in some form other than a McDonald's "egg burger") that I can afford. The Marriot and the Westin have something, but I believe the cost is comparable to one year of an Ivy League education.
So I came for a caffeine infusion, saw the bread, and asked if it was any good. This is how the conversation (in Korean) went down:
ME: Does the coconut-green tea bread taste all right?
STARBUCKS PARTNER: It's part of the the well-being trend.
ME: Um...
STARBUCKS PARTNER: It contains green tea.
Now, anyone who has learned the Korean language knows that a lot of things are implicit, so some information is not spoken or stated directly. This can be confusing to the non-fluent Korean speaker as well as to native Korean speakers themselves. What I did not know is that "it's part of the well-being trend" implied anything about the deliciousness or a lack of deliciousness. Ditto with the information about it containing green tea.
Anyway, I bought it. And it was delicious. But it was probably the coconut that made it delicious, not the green tea or the well-being trend.
So now I am sitting on the second floor of Starbucks, admiring the view of the ocean. Space Nakji tells me that the capital is immersed in a thick cloud of yellow dust, but down here it is pretty clear. There's a little haze on the horizon, but I can see the outline of rocky islets (not Tokto or Taemado) and ships that are miles away. The horizon where the East Sea/Sea of Japan meets the sky is almost a clear line.
So, no, there is no hwangsa cloud that makes the air as thick as kyŏja.
My plans to visit Taemado/Tsushima have been foiled, primarily because if I had taken off for the island this morning, I wouldn't have been able to return to Pusan until tomorrow evening. A no-no if I intend to remain gainfully employed.
I will have to try again some other time, now that I know a 'day trip" is out. It's only 130,000 won, but a few of the locals here have told me it's a very nice place to visit.
So today I will be head off for Pŏmŏsa Temple (please, NAKL advocates, tell me how "Beomeosa" with its extraneous E's renders "범어사" better than "Pŏmŏsa"), with its inviting bamboo groves up on the cool hill. I've been advised not to head out to Chinhae, since half of Pusan will be doing the same.
I had copious amounts of fruity-flavored "traditional" alcohol last night with past co-workers who also came down for the wedding. We were in a Japanese-style drinking establishment, of which it seems there are even more in Pusan than up in Seoul. Pusan in general always seems to me to more Japan-oriented than Seoul, with the hair styles, the eclectic clothing styles, the bouncy dialect, and some other things. The typical Pusanite even seems closer in height to the typical Japanese than to the typical Seoulite.
As I was also telling Space Nakji, a day of doing nothing in Pusan is still a day well spent. If I lived in Pusan, I could sit in this Starbucks all day staring at the ocean, typing away doing my work, blogging, or emailing people back in California or somewhere else. I think it's the California boy in me: I am drawn to the ocean. And Haeundae has been getting nicer and nicer. There is a veritable boardwalk of sorts, the buildings around it have gotten nicer, and there's fun stuff to do around here even when the water is too cold for swimming. Just a walk along the sand is pleasant enough.
I have a love-hate relationship with Seoul (mostly love, but some things frustrate me), but I think Pusan is my favorite of Korea's big cities. All told, though, I would rather live on Cheju-do, or at least somewhere along the East Sea somewhere between Kangnŭng (Gangneung) and P'ohang.
So be jealous for me that I'm here and you're not. It won't last long, though: I'll take the last KTX* back up tonight, then walk past a few homeless on my way from Seoul Station to my apartment, from which, if reports are correct, I won't be able to see Seoul Tower on Namsan, just outside my window.
* The KTX never ceases to amaze me: sit down for a few hours and you end up on the other end of the country. It's really exhilarating. It is also very cool (for me) that at any time I can just walk to Seoul Station (five to ten minutes) and just go up and get a ticket "for the next train, whatever time that is") and be zipped away to faraway provinces. Sphere: Related Content
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Kushibo:
ReplyDeleteNext time you're down in Busan without a lot of time on your hands, check out Taejongdae, the large peninsular park jutting into the ocean at the south end of the city. Very scenic. Somewhat like Stanley Park in Vancouver (if you've ever seen it.)
I'm also ambivalent about Seoul. It's a bit, cosmopolitan city, and all the crowds and markets and traffics are a bit of a rush, but once you spend significant amounts of time in other parts of the country, the megalopolis begins to lose its lustre.
...I meant, "it's a big, cosmopolitan city."
ReplyDeleteSewing wrote:
ReplyDeleteNext time you're down in Busan without a lot of time on your hands, check out Taejongdae, the large peninsular park jutting into the ocean at the south end of the city. Very scenic.
Yeah, I've been there. Enjoyed it.
Somewhat like Stanley Park in Vancouver (if you've ever seen it.)
Went to Stanley Park a loooooong time ago. Don't remember it that well.
I'm also ambivalent about Seoul.
Well, there's more love than hate in my sentence. It's all a matter of finding the right place to live (and work).
I live walking distance of much of dowtown, not to mention Namsan. I like being in the middle of the city yet near a lot of greenery, not to mention the Han. It's exciting to be here, yet there's a chance for respite as well.
Okay, not everyone can live in my neighborhood, but there are wonderful hillside/foothill neighborhoods with vast forests behind them and sweeping views—all over the city. The river runs through the town, touching all kinds of neighborhoods. And everything is so accessible, whether it's arts, shopping, entertainment, or whatever. I saw the Broadway cast of Les Miserables twice, for example, something I couldn't have done back in Southern California.
It's a bit, cosmopolitan city, and all the crowds and markets and traffics are a bit of a rush, but once you spend significant amounts of time in other parts of the country, the megalopolis begins to lose its lustre.
I like to go back and forth between the megalopolis and the countryside. After too long of either one, I want to head for the other.
Don't get me wrong: I like Seoul, too. I also had my first chance to explore Cheonggyecheon on my last trip there, a couple of weeks ago, and did some hiking on Inwangsan, where the western segment of the old city wall still stands intact. I explore the markets, and of course always make a ritual pilgrimage to Kyobo Bookworld (#1 Jongno 1-ga: you can't get a better Seoul address than that!). I've seen the palaces and the gates, and spent quite a bit of time navigating through the city's far-flung neighbourhoods, visiting friends and family. It's the biggest city in the world I've ever visited, and yeah, much of its appeal for me is that there's just so much more happening at any given moment than in my hometown (Vancouver).
ReplyDeleteBut even so, with every trip, there's a little less for me to explore, a little less to get excited about. (Although these heritage-restoration types keep me busy checking out their work with all their new projects!)
Anyhow, it sounds like you live in a nice location. Being close to Namsan or any other wooded area would give you the best of both worlds: the big city, and a little taste of the surrounding countryside.
...Oh, I also like the east coast, too. Very pretty.
ReplyDeleteIf I had my druthers, I'd live in some tiny farming village way up in the mountains somewhere in 강원도, in an old 한옥. It'd be a hassle keeping the fire going in the wood-burning stove to keep the house warm (especially on those long, cold winter nights), but the clear mountain air, the 매미, the sunrises and sunsets, the rhythm of farming life—that would be the ideal life for me. (How's that for some pastoral romanticism, eh?) ...Then again, my significant other would never stand for it, and my in-laws would think I'd lost my mind.