Another week in the land of the morning calm

Gleaning from our minimal observations so far, Korea seems to be deserving of this otherwise clichéd nickname. In the early morning, not a whole lot is happening. On our first morning here, Kat and I decided to wander down to the local coffee shop and start the day right with a strong cup of joe. Much to our dismay, the lights were turned off and the door was locked shut. The only English on the door’s sign read “open at 10:30.” For Westerners accustomed to the early morning, half-conscious mob of professionals desperately scouring the street-sides for their first cup of coffee, this seemingly nonexistent need for a legal stimulant seemed strange, and at the time, disappointing. Don’t get me wrong, Koreans love their coffee and their trendy coffee shops, but their drinking of it tends to happen much later in the day. In the same vein, the nights are longer here. Even though the workday’s hours are about the same as back home, their nights are much longer. It’s a quizzical riddle concerning the health of the modern Korean working man: 8-10 hour work days and bars that remain open until 6 a.m. And apparently, no need for an early morning coffee. Something doesn’t add up.

But I digress. Last weekend was full of activity that demands explanation. On Friday our school threw a Halloween party for the youngest students. Planning it was quite a bit of fun, especially since the Korean teachers seemed more excited about the idea than some of the students. The kids came all dressed up in whatever costume they or their parents thought was customary for Halloween. Seeing as the festivity is almost unknown here, many of the costumes consisted of items that could be hastily purchased at the local grocery store. Kat and I went as Harry Potter and Lisa Simpson- two familiar pop icons in this country. The celebration was going smoothly until the school’s director decided to have all of the students line up outside in order to experience our coveted “trick or treating” activity. At first it seemed like a decent idea; get the kids out of the building, show them how to properly partake in such an important aspect of the cultural event, waste some time, ect., ect. Such perceptions changed when we learned what was really going to happen.

It turns out that our school’s financial leaders had been keeping their collective eye on a newly opened, upscale apartment building complex in the neighborhood. Naturally, the school wanted to tap into this market as soon as possible- little did we know that it would happen during our much anticipated Halloween bash. In the end, the party turned into a marketing campaign for our private school. All of us foreign teachers were made to wear sashes that displayed the company’s name as we walked the long line of students through the neighborhood and towards the apartment complex. When we reached the gate to the complex, the security guards refused to let us in. As a result, our little caravan of decorated marketing pawns was kept out in the cold for half an hour, waiting for the unknown. Once inside, the situation didn’t get much better. While some of the children were allowed to escape the cold and get inside the warm apartment buildings, other students were left outside in the cold. What’s worse is that the children who did make it inside were given candy. The children who were left outside were eventually met by their warm, cheerful, and candy carrying classmates. Obviously, fairness and equality do not seem to be valued here as much as in North America. Actually, we’ve felt this sentiment on a number of occasions already, and it seems to emanate from our perception of Korean culture as being harsher and less sensitive than that of ours…whether this is a qualitative truth is beyond us. We understand that when experiencing the initial stages of cultural immersion, one has the tendency to start comparing the new culture with his or her own.

Besides the Halloween party going up in flames, the rest of the weekend was very enjoyable. Kat and I hit up a part of the city we hadn’t experienced before with a few friends Friday night, and on Saturday we were shown around the fish market area in Nampo-dong. My friend Mark from high school has lived in Busan for over two years now and he and his Korean girlfriend Yeojin have not only been incredibly hospitable, but more than willing to show us the sights and sounds of the city. After giving us a thorough tour of Busan’s renowned fish market, Mark and Yeojin took us out for perhaps the strangest meal I’ve ever eaten: live octopus.

As we entered the modest restaurant I could tell that it had not been frequented by many foreigners. Some of the Koreans looked at us as if we had arrived there by mistake. Some simply chuckled. We sat cross legged underneath a table that was raised about half a foot from the wooden floor. A live octopus was brought to our table and snipped into pieces by a woman using rudimentary scissors- the kind a kid might use to cut construction paper. The tentacles writhed in shock, dislocated from their fellow limbs. We indulged. If you’re inexperienced in the field of octopus eating, be sure to chomp the living ink out of it, because if you don’t, the tentacles will suction themselves to your throat as you swallow. It’s a bit disconcerting eating something that still has the capacity to wiggle its way out of your mouth. Regardless, we ate the creature successfully, along with the eel that had been mixed with it.

After the octopus and eel, we set off into the dark alleyways of the fish market area, in search of yet another unique Korean delicacy. Our reasoning: if the creatures of the sea failed to appease our hunger, maybe a respected land mammal could. The restaurant (if you want to call it that) for this next meal resembled a mechanic’s garage, and it had the smoky air of a tent containing a burning barbeque. After sitting on one of the many metal benches lining the perimeter of the room, we watched a woman chop up a long, rope-like strand of meat, and place the cylindrical pieces into a skillet in front of us. The dish: fried pig intestine and heart. To be honest, I wasn’t a big fan of the intestine. It was like eating a fried chunk of pig fat, and in actuality, that’s largely what it is. The heart had more taste to it. Overall, the night was a tasty, albeit interesting culinary experience.

More to come.