WHERE WAS I?

Days flow past full of event and place and talk and sensation that I hardly manage to register and don’t write down, even in my little yellow notebook. What happened Friday, for instance? Was that was the morning, our peanut butter nearly gone, we decided to go out for breakfast? At Bean’s Cook, a small shop on the main street, we held up 2 fingers and ordered “2 caffe latte”. Came the routine question: “Hot?”, and we nodded. Bean’s coffee is excellent, the muffins good, the décor an assortment of coffee paraphernalia on high shelves, the young man behind the counter shy and sweet. The sound system spills out quiet jazz, it’s not crowded at 8:a.m., a good place to be then.

I remember nothing about the rest of the morning, but after lunch I made my first solo trip on the subway, to Insadong, an area of downtown Seoul crowded with small galleries and stores selling handmade paper, lacquerware, fans, clothing inflected by traditional designs, ceramics, antique furniture, teas, and Turkish ice cream. (Is Turkish ice cream different from regular ice cream?)

Nancy was waiting for me at Anguk Station, and we tried to find Poet’s Corner—a spot noted in the Lonely Planet’s Seoul guide but apparently not known to anyone else, including the wandering tourist information people—before heading along Insadong-gil (gil means lane or alley, ro means street I’ve learned). On weekends the lane is closed to traffic, but weekdays pedestrians need to be alert. Sidewalks are crowded and it’s easy to step without thinking into the narrow street and its steady traffic. Everywhere you look windows are rich with colour and texture and goods spill out onto the sidewalk while people stream past, It’s easy to forget to watch for cars.

The paper shops were irresistible. Papers of different colours and textures, some plain, some with patterns, some with elements laid in, hung over rods. I wanted it all but settled for several large sheets that will pose a challenge to get home. I wish I’d bought more! Further along the street I found packages of coloured envelopes, perfect for the letters I imagine writing … some day …

Handmade paper in an Insadong shop. (my photo)

The clothing was also irresistible. I was drawn to skirts and tops modeled on hanbok, the traditional Korean dress of loose-fitting skirts/trousers with wide-sleeved jackets. (On our way to the Peter Brook performance we’d seen a woman on the subway wearing a striking hanbok dress.) But what I bought looks very modern—a short, dark green jacket (a subtle shade, perhaps like dark jade) with a lovely drape curving the bottom of it, and hidden pockets. It doesn’t look at all like hanbok, but somehow suggests a Korean sensibility. Now of course I need trousers or a skirt to wear with it …

Nancy then took me to her favourite tea house, the Flying Bird, where a small bevy of finches fly free and sometimes perch on the side of your plate. They sang and called as we sat down, then kept to the branches above and beside us, dozing, while we drank out tea.

Live birds at Flying Bird Tea House, Insadong (my photo)

Our teas. (my photo)

I ordered pear tea, at Nancy’s glowing recommendation, and she had watermelon 5 flavours. The pear tea was so sublime it reduced my conversation to: “This is delicious!” uttered after every mouthful. For a more adequate response read Nancy’s note in her blog: http://web.me.com/hellonancykim/site/my_blog/Entries/2010/6/20_Making_Baesuk.html

At 4:00 it was time to meet Peter at Anguk Station for a walk around Samcheong-dong. But before leaving the tea house I went to the bathroom—which had a floor of dark grey and white pebbles with a small but heavy fishbowl sitting on it.

SUNDAY WITH DAVID

At 6 a.m. Sunday morning we hauled ourselves out of bed to find rain falling. Nonetheless we got up, dressed, and shortly after 7:00 were perched at the airport bus stop near Sookmyung Women’s University Station. We were waiting for David who was dropping in for 13 hours, a stopover in his flight home from teaching in Papua New Guinea. Few cars on the street, not many people about, most of the shops closed, but buses hurtled by in waves, stopping to let people on or off. Blue buses, green ones, even the occasional long-distance tour coach, an airport limousine bus, all came and went as we waited. The rain came and went too.

View from the bus platform (my photo)

Shortly after 8:a.m. a dull-gold airport bus stopped and David stepped out. We surrounded him with chatter, herding him towards A Twosome Place for their morning set (scrambled eggs, yum!) only to discover it wouldn’t open till 10:30. So we settled for Starbucks—David’s first caffe latte in months—and good blueberry scones instead, Then a quick walk through the campus where David spied a black-crowned night heron sitting on a stone in the pond. We’ve seen those herons often back in Toronto but that’s the first one here.

Our next plan was to catch the Changing of the Guard at Deoksugang Palace and then wander around downtown. Downtown was pretty quiet. Was that perhaps the aftermath of the soccer loss the night before? The square in front of the Palace was surprisingly empty when we arrived—and then we saw a sign that the ceremony was cancelled because of the rain. So we walked David past the controversial Van Bruggen/Oldenburg sculpture “Spring”, to Berlin Square. After peering at graffiti on the Wall we walked beside the Cheonggyecheon, a stream that runs for some four miles as a narrow park through the centre of the city.

Graffiti on the Berlin Wall (my photo)

David contemplating Mobius by the Cheonggyecheon,

We left the stream and caught the subway to Itaewon, where we threaded through the crowds and looked at shop windows and carts offering souvenirs, t-shirts, very beautiful scarves, fine suits, leather jackets, antiques, splendid ties, shoes, hats, cosmetics, etc. It was lunch time and we prowled up a couple of alleys finding Italian, German, Persian, Thai, and Nordic restaurants as well as lots of pubs—but we wanted to give David a Korean meal. Then he spied a sign for Korean barbecue—at a restaurant called Don Valley Beef & Pork Korean Restaurant! So we were meant to eat there. The menu included vegetarian dishes and bibimbap and I devoured the dol sot bibimbap. The others liked their food too. Cass beer washed it all down and kept the talk flowing.

Back on the street we headed for the Berlin Café to hear Robert Harwood play--but found he wasn’t on till evening. The view looking out over the street was wonderful, the breeze coming through the window fine, so we ordered a good bottle of wine and before long Nancy joined us. Talk and laughter flew around the table till it was time for David to catch his bus back to the airport. It pulled in as we were crossing the street to the stop, he stepped on, and after a bit of confusion about the money—was that a PNG bill he pulled out of his wallet that freaked out the driver?—the fare was paid, the door closed, and away he went for his 14-hour flight home.

FOOD IN A NEW ALPHABET 2

Peter and Maureen learning a new alphabet ... (Photo: Nancy Kim)

Following our visit to the Berlin Café a week and a half ago, Nancy led us through the streets of Itaewon to The Foreign Food Mart where we bought our breakfast peanut butter. We dropped into the Foreign Book Shop next door for a few minutes, and of course each found something we wanted: Korean for Dummies (Peter) and Soul in Seoul (Maureen). Nancy had loaned us a copy of S in S, and we both enjoyed the writer’s tone: individual and opinionated!

Though we’d snacked at the café we were growing hungry. We walked a little further to Sigol Babsang, a country-style, or rustic, traditional restaurant, in a small building we’d never have realized was a restaurant without Nancy’s say-so. Stepping through a low door we found ourselves in a small room divided down the middle: to the left an area with about 3 tables and benches, to the right a raised platform for traditional (sit-on-the-floor) Korean eating.

The “menu” was a flat wooden spoon with rows of Korean characters on it. Nancy explained the selections, and we ordered steamed egg, rice cake and bulgogi cooked in an earthenware pot, and soybean stew. Almost immediately a young man began placing tray after tray of small side dishes in front of us till the table was nearly completely covered. We ordered chungha (rice wine) to accompany this feast (Peter also had his beer), then settled into talk and eating, eating, eating. Nancy told us there was no particular order or way in which the dishes were meant to be eaten, we could each browse as we pleased. What an array of tastes—some startling (those little anchovies, the chillies), all delicious! In the end we simply couldn’t consume it all, though we tried hard.

Left: The full table ... (my photo)

Below: a closer look at some side dishes (my photo)

BASKING TURTLE

In the pond at Sookmyung Women's University, 23 June 2010

(Photo: Maureen Scott Harris)

LIFE AS SOOKMYUNG SUMMER FACULTY

Dear Readers. It's Wednesday, 23 June here in Seoul, just after 3:p.m. Forgive the manic posting during the past couple of days, but I've fallen far behind the events that have unfolded. Time flies when you’re having fun…

Last week flew by in a kind of dream when summer school began, and today Peter is halfway through his teaching! Last Monday afternoon we met the other faculty at an orientation session that included a tour of campus highlights. The particular highlight I liked was an exhibition of Canadian and American poetry in the World Literatures Room of the library. What a delight to see Don McKay’s Vis á Vis alongside the Wilfrid Laurier selection of his poems. After the tour we were hosted, with the international students, to a very good dinner.

Peter teaches for 3 hours each afternoon and so our lives have assumed a somewhat routine shape. We usually eat breakfast at home—fruit and/or yoghurt, toast and peanut butter, washed down with (believe it or not) tins of iced latte we buy in the local groceries or convenience stores (take your choice: Starbucks, Maxim, Cantata, Angel-in-us, Holly’s, Denmark Milk, the list could continue). About twice a week we go out for breakfast—lattes and scones or muffins usually, but one day soon we’ll head to a waffle café for breakfast—they are almost as ubiquitous as the coffee places. Peter then does class prep while I take care of small housekeeping things (laundry) or read, write in my journal, compile suggestions for yet more things to see and do before we leave.

Shortly before noon we walk to campus, about 7 minutes away along a lane, to eat a very cheap and good lunch (7000 won for the two of us, roughly C$7. 00) in the Faculty Cafeteria. There we often catch up with colleagues—who usually have yet more suggestions for things to do. While Peter teaches I sit by the pond, or come back here and read or write or stare out at our lane, where there’s always something happening. When Peter finishes teaching we meet for an iced coffee, and sometimes a walk in the park behind the campus. Evenings are more varied—we eat out most of the time, still feeling our way through the maze of Korean foods.

Thursdays at 5:p.m. we attend an informal research forum, where 3 of the summer faculty talk about their current projects or major research interests. Here’s the poster for the first session, when Peter spoke.

Research Forum I, Sookmyung Women’s University, Summer School 2010

Organized by Albrecht Classen (University of Arizona)

Faculty members of the Summer School 2010 present their research.

Colleagues, students, and the public are invited

to attend this free event.

Thursday, June 17, 2010, 5 p.m., room tba

Sharon Weiner (American University, Washington, DC): “Organizational Interest and Nuclear Proliferation”

Purnima Bhatt (Hood College, Frederick, MD): “’The Woman Factor’ in the Stepwells of Gujarat, India: Relationship Between Women, Water, Art, and Religion”

Peter Harris (University of Toronto): “The Reichstag Building: From Imperial Monkey House to Republican Glass House”

FENCES AND A GLIMPSE OF KO UN

Korean poet Ko Un came to Toronto in 2008, to receive the Griffin Poetry Prize Lifetime Recognition Award. I’d never heard of him though he’s perhaps the major 20th-century Korean poet. Last night I finished reading his poems in The Three Way Tavern (University of California Press, 2006). This morning I want to start the book at the beginning again.

Also this morning I was sent a link to photographs of Toronto’s downtown streets, occupied by heavy chainlink fences and uniformed security people for the Prime Minister’s indefensibly expensive road show of the G20/G8 meetings that will take place this next weekend.

Here are the opening lines of Ko Un’s final poem in The Three Way Tavern—I offer them for their notion of a different kind of fence:

Coda: The Thuja Fence

Because there are few reasons to come and go,

the road is often bare,

like a man after weeping.

Soothing sadness,

the dark blue thuja trees

have shot up since last year and

seem to be hiccupping among themselves.

Some parts of this earth are made

of unfinished business.

So sadness has brought us here, you and I.

Even a man with breathing heels

knows the sun is setting on earth’s unfinished work.

…

By Ko Un. Translated by Clare You and Richard Silberg. Copyright, University of California Press, 2006.

Thuja by the way are a family of cypresses.

For more poems by Ko Un go to: http://jacketmagazine.com/34/ko-un.shtml

To hear him read in Korean, with Richard Silberg reading the English translations of a few poems from The Three Way Tavern check out his youtube site: www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHb_fQiVT_Y

SITTING BY THE POND

Below the Queen Sunheon Building on the Sookmyung Women’s University Campus there is a large rectangular pond. It’s bisected by the central stairs and walk leading downhill to the rest of the campus. Fountains on both sides of the walk spray, cooling the air and making a fine sound. Plantings surround the pond. A line of mature trees stands on the uphill side, a viney groundcover flowing down among them to the pond’s rocky edge. Benches are set at intervals along its length, making good places to sit and get out of the generally hot sunshine. Sloping up behind the benches are large hosta beds, blooming now.

I’ve taken to sitting on one bench or another for some time after lunch on those days that we eat in the Faculty Cafeteria. Sometimes I write in my little yellow journal, sometimes I just listen to the water, stare at the varying greens of the plants and trees (few of which I can name) or watch the incredibly large fish in the water, sometimes I manage a blank mind. Occasionally birds appear—Eurasian tree sparrows, magpies, pigeons, possibly Oriental turtledoves, twice something robin-sized and dark with a longish tail resembling no bird I know. Except for the magpies they are often too backlit or quick to be seen clearly.

On a hot afternoon last week I sat looking at one of the large trees almost right in front of me and noticed that the vine covering the ground had swarmed up its trunk well into the branches. I leaned back to see, if I could, just how high it reached, and suddenly the tree looked like a dancer with outstretched arms wearing a lacey green cloak.