FUNGUS GARGOYLES

Here are those gargoyle fungi I spied on my walk in John Dean Park with Rhona. Why will blogger refuse photos some times and then happily take them at others?

RIGGITY-JIG

Here I am, back in Toronto, but perhaps not entirely. The title to this post is supposed to summon to the reader’s mind that line from Mother Goose: “Home again, home again, riggity-jig” – but when I tried to check the spelling of “riggity” via Google, all I found was “jiggity-jig”… So, am I mis-remembering the rhyme, or did my mother use an unrecorded variant? No answer is available now she’s dead, though asking my siblings what they remember might constitute the next research step.

It’s high summer here and today (Friday) is lovely, bright sun and a breeze, not too hot and not too humid. I arrived back Tuesday evening. By now I’m unpacked and I’ve even gone through the mound of mail waiting for me. It released a stack of journals and books that I may never get through, as well as a handful of letters, including several from my friend Irene in Tasmania. So now my mind is full of memories of Tasmania and I'm tempted by my shelf of Tasmanian books.

But the question in my mind, if not in yours, is where will this blog go now? Perhaps it will become a site for remembering, and for further thinking about our/my experiences in Korea and Japan. For instance, when I walked through the University of Toronto campus this morning I caught sight of several groups of children in matching, brightly-coloured, T-shirts, participants in one or another of the summer day-camps operated out of the University. Those T-shirts conjured up images of the parties of day-care children Peter and I saw when we visited Namsangol Hanok Village in Seoul on one of our first days there. They were playing in the sand, having a picnic lunch under some trees, lined up to look at the traditional houses, and so charming we could have spent the morning watching them.

A WALK IN THE FOREST

On Saturday, July 24, my friend and fellow poet Rhona McAdam (see her wonderful blog at: http://iambiccafe.blogspot.com/) collected me from my Aunt’s and took me for a walk in John Dean Park (http://www.env.gov.bc.ca/bcparks/explore/parkpgs/john_dean/). Like every day in Victoria for the time I was there it was sunny and clear, the sun hot, its heat offset by breeze and by the shade of the enormous trees we walked under.

We passed a lily pond (bullhead lilies, I think) where there were few flowers, but the leaves stood high out of the water on long stems, reminding me of the lotus ponds we’d seen in Korea, also without blooms. We noticed several different fungi, most growing on trees. My favourite was a series of three white ones that looked like small gargoyles set into a massive trunk.

That hike (some three hours or so) was my re-entry to the non-urban, and lovely it was to find myself walking on earth and duff, even if it meant an occasional stumble over tree roots or stones. (I was wearing borrowed shoes and blame them, rather than any clumsiness on my part.)

Winding along various trails, we more or less followed a route suggested by an enthusiastic walker we met in the parking lot. Being directionally challenged and a little dazed at being out in the woods, I quietly left the navigation to Rhona. She managed a fine trick, leading us on trails for nearly the whole walk that led down slopes rather than laboriously up them. Except when we took the advice of a trio of enthusiastic walkers at a fork in the path—the tine they recommended led down a steep and rough trail into a small canyon and then veered steeply up again. But it did culminate in a lovely view.

When we closed our circuit back at the parking lot I was tired but felt like I’d moved properly for the first time in weeks. And I wasn’t stiff the next day.

HERE ARE THE HYDRANGEAS ...

I photographed them on Oak Bay early Sunday morning, my first Sunday in Victoria. What a blue!

IN VICTORIA ON THE WAY HOME

Sunday, 18 July 2010 … though not posted until Thursday, 22 July …

I’m breaking my return trip home with a stop in Victoria, to visit my Aunt—who is in hospital. But I’m here for 10 days, and I trust she’ll be discharged* before I leave and we’ll be able to enjoy our usual conversations in her sun-filled dining room.

Yes, sun-filled. The weather here is extraordinarily gorgeous! It’s been sunny and clear since I arrived. The flowers are ravishingly brilliant. And the air—I’d forgotten the pleasure of air cool and fresh on your skin. Walking is a delight.

How lucky I didn’t go straight back to Toronto where the temperature and humidity are about a match for what we experienced in Korea and Japan. Only there it was part of the rainy season.

This morning I walked over to Oak Bay Village and back, early, before most shops were open. Photographed hydrangeas, some snail-shaped macaroons (or do I mean meringues?) in a window, and a china tea set that seemed quintessentially Victoria. (I remember staring at china in shop windows here when I was a small child.) I resisted the temptation to photograph signs, simply because I can read them …

*And yes, my Aunt is now home. It’s such a treat to be here with her! But where the hydrangea photograph went, I've no idea ...

LEAVING TOKYO, HEADING HOME ...

It's D for Departure Day ... or perhaps it's R for Return Day ... We're packed and will checkout of the hotel shortly. We take an airport limousine bus at noon for late afternoon flights from Narita.

We've had two rambles around Tokyo at night, with Blair; dinner with my mother's cousin's grandson and his family; explored two highend shopping and entertainment complexes, both within walking distance of our hotel; seen a beautiful exhibition of Noh costumes and masks, found a few gardens, a very fine park, stared down at the city from a tower, and stared out/up at it from a cruise on the Sumida River. In short, we've passed through ... have hardly glimpsed Tokyo, hardly have a sense of it. But it fills our heads and will resonate I'm sure over the next few months, as we look back through images that float into mind and photos, like these below.

On the Sumida River. (all photos mine)

300-year old pine, Hama-Rikyu Park

Sumida River bridge

Metro Hat, Roppongi Hills

THE MOON RISES HERE

My photograph, taken about 8:p.m., just outside Metro Hat, Roppongi Hills, Thursday, 15 July 2010. (Rosemary, is that bright spot to the right Venus?)

TOKYO ... BIG ...

It’s actually Thursday, here, nearing noon. I suppose I could try to set the time on this blog to match the time where we are—but when I reset my iPod calendar it recalibrated all the dates already in it and now I no longer know for sure when I see the peridontist at home … Our Seoul colleagues, Carrie and Jeremy ran into the same problem, with near disastrous consequences, since their flights out shifted to a day later than they actually were booked.

We’ve had a day and a half in Tokyo so far and mostly it leaves me pretty speechless. Yesterday we went to the Roppongi Hills shopping complex, which includes theatres and galleries and the Mori Art Museum, as well as Tokyo View—an enclosed lookout some 52 storeys high where you can walk around and see the city in all directions. It lies thick in all directions and stretches as far as you can see, with only the tiniest of interruptions by the sea.

I was bowled over (not quite literally) and Peter had to lean against the wall away from the floor-to-ceiling glass expanses once or twice. The longer we walked around staring out the windows and taking pictures the more unreal it all seemed. I’ve never been in a place this big, never imagined such a city. It defies adjectives, it just is.

The Art Museum currently hosts a dinosaur show that we didn’t go to see. But the Star Wars/Jurassic Park music spilling out from its entrance into the hallways added to the odd dreamlike ambience of the place. In a couple of weeks a show on Japanese perceptions of nature will open there, so my timing isn’t so good. But at least I know about the show and can check to see if they publish a catalogue.

Peter pointed out we could see our hotel from one window. It's the hollow-square building below just beyond the two orange cranes. (all photo mine)

VISITING DON QUIJOTE AND GROUPER

(All photos mine.)

On our Tuesday evening ramble our friend Blair O’Connor led us into a Don Quijote shop, a discount retail chainstore here that even has its own theme song. Not that I noticed the song in my mesmerized state as we wandered the narrow

aisles stocked with huge quantities of … well,uh, everything …

At Don Quijote you never know who might be watching you ...
or what you might find: Blair & Sniggles ...

Out in front of the store is a large tank holding the most amazing Grouper, who gave us a welcoming stare—a moment I’ll remember for a long time.

And he has a story to tell ...

WE'RE IN TOKYO NOW

Banana Man watched over us last night as we sat outside in Tokyo Midtown and drank our first gin and tonics in several weeks. Then it started to pour.

GOCHISO SAMA DESHITA

means “It was a real feast!” And it was precisely that last evening (Sunday) at the “casual style Japanese restaurant” in the basement (down 2 flights of stairs) of the Gimmond Hotel on Oike-dori, a few minutes walk away. Once again we’re grateful to Debbie Sakura, the woman we met in front of the M Café our first morning here, who suggested the restaurant to us.

Maureen's beef course

We spent about two hours over our 8-course “traditional style set of dishes”. The menu included “shrimp coated with yuba,” but I used my Lonely Planet glossary to indicate that I couldn’t eat seafood. Unfortunately (in a way) this meant I wasn’t served the sashimi course—however a plate of small slices of delectable cold rare beef was served me in its place.

Peter's sashimi

Each course was served individually and in succession. Each looked more beautiful and appetizing than the preceding one, and we’ve photos to prove that.

Here’s the list of courses as noted by Peter on the cover to his chopsticks:

Relish: Yuba (tofu) with dressing (A cmmon food in Japan, the menu added.)

Sashimi, two kinds

Grilled chicken with salad

Deep-fried shrimp coated in yuba

Fried Eggplant in roast duck broth

Rice with Japanese pickles

Miso soup

Dessert: small chunks of cake with some sort of cream.

Fried eggplant in duck broth.

And now it seems we're hungry again -- it's time to go in search of breakfast.

BECAUSE OF THE MONSOON... 2

It’s 11:15 p.m., Sunday evening, and I’m waiting on laundry—the dryer in the hotel seems to be taking a long time with the small load of laundry that I hope will be the last I do before I reach Victoria next Saturday. What was I saying earlier about sitting still? While we were eating our Café M breakfast this morning the monsoon arrived and the heavens opened on a deluge that continued for about an hour. Comfortably tucked under an overhang at our outdoor table, we ordered a second coffee and settled to enjoy the splash and the scene—umbrellas of all colours bobbing and bouncing past, a couple in very fine clothes under a single umbrella, their backs soaking wet, a small girl in an elegant layered skirt and cowboy boots walking under the bubble of a transparent umbrella, cyclists insouciant under umbrellas, scooters with plastic windscreens and tops instead of umbrellas, people sauntering, running, skidding on wet pavement.

Taking the weather as a message to hunker down we came back to the hotel and I read about early Korean literature for an hour or more. Then, the rain slackening, we decided to visit The Museum of Kyoto, about three blocks away. The history and culture of Kyoto exhibit is interesting and well-displayed, though a little light on English signage, and we ended up going through the galleries backwards. (That's to say, from present day to reasonably deep past, not that we walked backwards.) I was particularly taken with the nyobo shozoku, women’s court dress of 12 layers—but careless with my note-taking, I didn’t write down the period when it was worn.

The 12-layered court dress. (my photo)

I'm glad I don't have to worry about washing and drying that outfit. By now, surely my laundry will be dry ...

SLOW STARTS AND SITTING STILL

It's Sunday morning here, overcast, a small possibility of rain later. We're having a slow start, Peter doing his Soduko by the window and me catching up with email. We're off to Kyoto Station shortly to buy our tickets to Tokyo. We hope we can figure out the subway. Unlike Seoul, the ticket machines don't have an English option. But the nearest station is where the two lines intersect, and has an info centre, so presumably someone will help us when we run into trouble.

I've been thinking about the pleasures of sitting still. After the Castle yesterday we went to a small cafe (Cafe Flower? Cafe ergo-bibamus?) we'd noticed on Friday, on Marutamachi-dori, beside the Kama River. It was after 2:p.m. and we were hungry. They served us delicious sandwiches (country ham and salmon with capers) on crusty baguettes, and excellent iced coffees. We sat at an outside table and watched the river with its strollers and bicyclists streaming alongside. The sky grew bluer. The breeze was lovely and soft. A gigantic bumblebee investigated every flower on a small shrub. An old man with a fishing pole stopped to wait while his young grandson clambered down from a railing and onto his small bicycle, then pedalled sturdily up the incline to the street. Dogs trailed owners down to the river. The dangling willow leaves brushed our heads when the breeze blew. A young woman with an impressive camera had a long conversation with a long-haired man on a bicycle. Crows called, a large raptor circled and dipped. The water kept flowing and we kept sitting. It was a perfect summer afternoon.

The cafe where we ate lunch by the Kama River. Our table was the far right one. (my photo)

KYOTO, DAY 2

I didn’t note yesterday that we got our breakfast at M’s Café, just around the corner from the hotel, on Oike-dori. It’s a small space that’s part of a sports shop, with maybe half a dozen white tables set up on a platform just outside the counter area. We ordered a “morning set” that is toast (wedges of white bread, cut like pieces of cake) with butter and jam, and a small dish of very good salad (greens, tomato, potatoes) and caffe latte. We liked it so much we went back for more of the same again this morning.

The charming staff at M's Cafe, our breakfast place. (my photo)

Yesterday as we were ordering we got into conversation with a woman from Michigan who has lived here for 23 years, and invited her to join us. That was a very smart move on our part, since she had several suggestions for things we might do—the river walk among them. This morning we followed another of her suggestions and walked to Nijo-jo, a castle built in 1603 by Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate that ruled Japan for almost 300 years.
Entrance to Nijo-j0.

We walked slowly through the Ninomaru Palace, listening to the “nightingale floors”—wooden floors crafted to creak in a variety of tones so that no one could approach the Shogun unnoticed—and looking at the magnificent paintings on the paper walls in room after room. Tbey included tigers and leopards, wonderful twisted pine trees, and many birds (hawks, peacocks, pheasants among them). Unfortunately no photographs are allowed. Each of the rooms we looked into had a very specific purpose—where messengers were received, for instance, or visiting dignitaries.

From the Palace we wandered through exquisitely beautiful grounds and gardens, and climbed large stone stairs to peer down on the moat. It was hot but we walked slowly and sat for awhile in some shade, before heading to the souvenir shop to look at post cards and cool off in the air conditioning.

NO SCRIBBLING

KYOTO – FIRST IMPRESSIONS

We arrived in Kyoto last evening on the train from Tokyo—a lovely ride, I might say, through countryside that was lush and green interspersed with clumps of houses and other buildings, occasional bits of industry—into the splendidly modern Kyoto Station, and took a taxi to the Hearton Hotel where we are staying, not all that far from the Imperial Palace and its park.

A shiny shop in the Kyoto Station. (my photo)

I was struck immediately by how different this city feels from Seoul—a difference that is in large part I think a result of its streets laid out on a grid. Here edges are clear and sharp, the streets run straight and flat. They don’t go up and down or twist away, at least so far as we’ve seen. This difference has a psychological effect—I don’t feel nearly as at risk of getting most as I did in Seoul. Though perhaps that’s illusory.

In fact Kyoto has existed on a grid since the 7th century, when the Emperor Kammu proclaimed it the site of the new capital, called Heian-kyo. According to the Lonely Planet, it “was laid out in accordance with Chinese geomancy in a grid pattern adopted from the Tang dynasty capital, Chang-an.” There are rivers here, but they haven’t affected the grid.

The weather has been rainy, and cool, in contrast to the bright sunshine and heat we had just before leaving Seoul. We’ve enjoyed walking, in spite of the rain, wandering today along a stretch of the Kama River and through a small section of the Imperial Palace Park, where we watched fervent tennis players continue their play through quite heavy rainfall. The dragonfly pond we noticed on the park map turned out to be inaccessible, though we could glimpse lotus leaves through the mesh of fence and shrubbery that surrounded it.

A path in the Imperial Palace Park. (Photo: Peter Harris)

We watched mallards swimming in the river, and also saw two large waders—a grey heron, and an egret (can’t be more specific than that). Large crows were reasonably abundant and a small black and white bird with a fluttery wing movement darted over the river’s surface like a swallow. A very large raptor circled and balanced briefly overhead, its wing-tips splayed like a vulture’s. We heard lots of songs and calls from shrubs and trees. Of course I’d left the binoculars in the hotel …

MOVING ON

It's 5:45 a.m., Thursday, July 8 in Seoul. The sky half an hour ago was a hazy pale pink, and now it's just hazy. We're moving on-- to Japan. We fly to Narita and take a train to Kyoto for 5 days, then have 4 days in Tokyo. I'm not sure what the internet situation will be there but hope to continue with this blog one way or another.

I've many things still to write about Seoul--the War Memorial, the National Museum, the river ferry cruise, various forests, other meals (surprise!), the warmth of Korean hospitality, the Metro--but for the moment I'll just say that the Farewell Party hosted by Sookmyung was a really good time. We've had a very fine time here, indeed, and met lots of wonderful people. We're sorry to leave, and hope we don't lose track of all our new friends.

Here I am with the splendid staff from the SISS Office, yesterday, when we went to say goodbye. They have taken fabulous care of us!

Nancy, bless her heart, will arrive in 15 minutes to drive us to the airport.

WINNER OF BEST PHOTO

overall in the SISS photo contest is: Professor Peter Harris!

The prize is a Samsung digital photo frame--something Peter has been longing for. Could he be happier? Not likely!

And here's the winning photo: "Up Against the Wall" -- story about it to follow in another post.

MISHAP … JULY 5, 2010

What was that crash from the bathroom? Peter goes to see and I hear “Aaaaaaaargh!” He’s down on his knees swabbing when I go to see what’s up. The deodorant, in a glass tube, has rolled off the slight curve of the toilet back and shattered on the tile floor …

What is it about deodorant on this trip? The one important thing we managed to leave behind when we left Toronto was Peter’s kit. Luckily, he hadn’t packed his eye drops and ear meds in it! And I had toothpaste in my kit. But we were without my glasses cleaner (is that why so many of the photos I take are blurred?) and deodorant. But I wasn't worried—deodorant couldn’t be that hard to find.

Well, maybe not … When I looked in the Family Mart on Hyochangwon-gil the day after we arrived nothing resembled it. And the woman who asked in broken English if she could help clearly didn’t know the word “deodorant”. When I pantomimed rubbing something in my armpits she recoiled slightly and shook her head firmly. Hmmm—had I just presented myself as uncouth foreigner?

The racks of cosmetics and toiletries at Lotte Mart were dizzying, and everything labeled in Korean characters without English. I couldn’t sort shampoo from skin cream and shower gel and nothing looked like deodorant. We gave up on the first trip and came home to shower. Back at Lotte the next day we passed a young woman demonstrating Nivea products who spoke some English. She also didn’t recognize the word, but the pantomime worked.

It’s that bottle of Nivea deodorant that lies in shards on the bathroom floor. The monsoon is here (though so far only one day of pelting rain) with temperatures around 30 degrees and humidity to match. Even a slow walk glues a shirt to you with great patches of perspiration. We have to head out into that heat later for the Sookmyung Farewell Party …

Later the same day: Thankfully the deodorant proved easy to find this time. We scanned the shelves in the small grocery store where we buy yoghurt, coffee, spoons, laundry soap (or is that fabric softener I’ve been using?), toilet paper, cookies, cream cheese, tuna, beer … and though my eyes glazed Peter found deodorant. Nivea again, even labeled deodorant in English. It’s also labeled men, so I now remind myself of the young men in the Toronto subway. But perhaps the scent will evaporate before we arrive at Centennial Hall for the party.

SLIGHTLY FRANTIC

It’s 7:30 a.m. Monday, July 5, here in Seoul and we fly to Japan on Thursday. Some of our colleagues have left already. Time is running out and my head’s a whirl of blurry lists—all the things we’ve thought we might do plus those niggling jabs of necessities like distributing gifts, buying souvenirs, exchanging contact into, cleaning the apartment, laundry, packing … Ugh! Then there’s the list I made on Friday in my little yellow notebook: what I could write about in this blog—12 possibilities lined up immediately, and another 4 have presented themselves since.

This morning … this morning I must go to the post office, which I’ve finally located. Well, Nancy located it for me. I have a fistful of cards and a couple of letters to mail. If they go today I hope they’ll arrive before we’re back in Canada. I want to go to the Sookmyung campus and revisit the display about its history, this time making some notes. We’ve sworn to try and find a waffle café for lunch—or to go to A Twosome Place and order their scrambled egg set. I must buy some paper to wrap presents in. At 5:00 the university is hosting a farewell party for faculty and students. Afterwards I think some of us will drop into So Ho for a last chat and drink.

Oh, and some time today Peter has essays to mark and forms to fill in for the university. Perhaps I should wake him and start breakfast… but I think first I’ll browse our recent pictures for one that’s calming …

One of the outdoor exhibitions at the National Museum of Korea, two stone Buddhas from the Goryeo Period, 10th-11th centuries. (photo: Peter Harris)

MORNING COFFEE

A small sample of the take-out tins/boxes/cups of coffee we can buy in the convenience and grocery stores here.

HIDDEN SPACE – OUTER AND INNER CIRCLES

Hidden Space Gallery and Café is indeed hidden. In Samcheong-dong, its entrance is down a laneway and around the back of a small wooden building. It’s modeled on, or perhaps is, a traditional Korean house with an open space in the centre. In that space is a small stand of bamboo with a tiny fish pond (merely a bowl) in front of it. On a branch of bamboo hangs a tiny (wooden?) trapeze with two birds perched on it—a work by the gallery owner, artist Jae Young, Kim, who is clearly fond of birds. (Look and listen at www.jaeyoungkim.com). On one side of the space is the gallery, a lovely and well-lighted room; across from it there’s a small café, entered from the smaller shop at one end.

To see some lovely pictures of the Gallery go to: http://blog.naver.com/ahnsk730/140106638543

We visited Hidden Space last Wednesday evening, transported there in a coach laid on by the International Office at Sookmyung. The occasion was the opening of Outer Circles Inner Circles, an exhibition of work by Stephen Bottomley, also teaching here this summer. Stephen is Head of the Department of Jewellery & Silversmithing at the Edinburgh College of Art, and the owner of that camera we envy.

One of Stephen's pieces displayed at Hidden Space Gallery (my photo)

Stephen's work is complex and beautiful, modeled on patterns taken from the textiles of Venetian, Mariano Fortuny (1871-1949). I love the way the patterns in his pieces shift, catching and distributing light. In his catalogue Tech-tile Stephen mentions the connections among jewellery, fashion, and the body. Looking at the pieces, particularly his “Star Necklace” and its shadows, I found myself imagining the shimmer and movement of fabric and necklace reflecting and enhancing the walking body, and imagining too the pleasure of wearing such fabrics and jewellery.

Stephen's "Star Necklace" displayed at Hidden Space (my photos)

CANADA DAY IN SEOUL

Peter handed out pencils decorated with maple leaves at the end of the third Research Forum. Peter, Nancy, and I, Canadians all, went to California Roll for supper then decided a drink was in order. The real celebration unrolled at So Ho, a small perfect bar upstairs on the neighbourhood’s main street. (More about the perfect bar in another posting.)

We climbed the steep and somewhat dingy stairs to find it empty except for the barman. At our request Nancy presented a maple leaf pencil to him, eplaining it was Canada Day. We settled at our usual table with a small bottle of his homemade lemon soju, and before we could raise our shot glasses Joni Mitchell’s young voice spilled from the speakers, followed by Neil Young covering “Four Strong Winds”. For the next hour or so the barman spun Canadian music: more Neil Young and Joni Mitchell, Ann Murray, Bryan Adams, eventually Ian & Sylvia with the original “Four Strong Winds”. Our talk roamed over rock and roll and the music of the 1960s, names falling from lips: Grace Slick, The Grateful Dead, Dylan, Janice Joplin, Jimmy Jendrix, Country Joe and the Fish—and suddenly it was Janice singing “Me and Bobby McGee”. Then, who is that singing “Tom Thumb Blues”—Joan Baez? “Judy Collins” called the barman. Peter went to see if he had her version of “Pirate Jenny’s Song”— No go, but he did have Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man”.

Goldsmith Stephen Bottomley arrived as Dylan’s voice died away and just as we emptied the soju. He bought a round of beer and showed us his fabulous photos from the metal markets he’d been exploring earlier in the day. (Note here: deep camera envy…) We handed him a Canadian pencil and he said he’d make a brooch out of it. Much laughter, more talk, more music, another bottle of soju, and Carrie and Jeremy came up the stairs. More beer, yet more music and talk, glances at watches—Stephen wanting to Skype home--drinks finally gone, we declared the celebrations over some time after 10 p.m. and went back down the stairs to the still-busy street and along the lane to "home".

Stephen Bottomley with splendid camera at So Ho; note album covers on wall. (my photo)

BECAUSE OF THE MONSOON ...

Friday, 2 July 2010 --

sign posted on the elevator doors at International House 1 --

(my photo)