Second Handong Column
Over the weekend of March 31-April 2, my Korean roommate Calvin and I traveled to the coastal city of Pusan. I hadn't been able to travel outside of the Handong area before, so it was a welcome relief from campus and a chance to see "real" Korean culture.
Handong has so many international students and so many distinctives of its own that living strictly on-campus and going to school does not present an accurate Korean living experience.
So, after scribbling through a history quiz in order to make the school bus to downtown Pohang, I dashed back to grab my roommmate and off we went.
The bus ride was about an hour and a half, near the coast but rarely in sight of the ocean. I noted all the traditionally-roofed buildings not far from Kyungju, a medieval capitol of the Korean Unified Silla kingdom.
Pusan itself is a larger, coastal city on the south side of Korea. It was a major military site in the Korean war, and has a number of Korean War-related museums and memorials that I hope to visit another time.
We met up with another Handong student, Mike, and immediately set out to see the town. One of the popular "hanging-out" areas was lined with tiny shops lit by neon signs. Food vendors set up shop in the streets, which were small and apparently intended only for pedestrians. Scooters and low-horsepower motorcycles have pedestrian street rules in Korea, so more than once I was beeped at and nearly run over by an intent driver.
The sheer pace of the city was constant. Pusan is quite crowded, and on a weekend night these areas were filled with movement and noise. I enjoyed the frenetic jostle through people-filled streets, but I considered it tiring even in comparison to London.
Americans take for granted that every business has its own parking space; many businesses in Korea are packed very tightly onto multiple floors of an office building, or connected to the street by a flight of stairs down into a basement.
It was already late, and after a week of classes Calvin and I were tired. Calvin leads youth worship every Sunday at a small church, so we rolled out some pads and slept there as he usually does on the weekends.
The next morning, we went to Yongdosung Park, which was more sidewalks than grass, but was still a worthy visit. Pusan is situated on and around the sea-side mountains, and the park was built directly on one of these mountains, so we ascended as soon as the park opened with a series of escalators.
The view from the top was impressive, with a full 180-degree sweep of the city, the port, the fish market and the sea. The top has an amphitheatre area, where a national TV unit was filming a rehearsal for a singing talent show. I didn't get on TV, but a drunk fellow probably did, who stood in the "performers only" area and clapped along in his very own time signature.
I accompanied Calvin to the apartment of his students, a pair of bright middle schoolers. He teaches them English every weekend and I was able to help quiz them and converse with them.
At the first meeting they were extremely shy, as 90% of the schoolchildren are around foreigners, but after the second meeting they became comfortable with me and were much better at speaking. (As a sidenote, the other 10% of Korean schooldren embarress their schoolmates by exclaiming, "Hi!" to the foreigner and waving vigorously. There is always one in every bus load of children.)
Calvin showed me a few notable sites in Pusan: their International Film Festival, an impressively lit bridge overlooking a beach and the "world-famous" Pusan fish market. I walked through stall after stall of fresh fish, squid, octopus, pig head and even some related squirmy things unknown to me.
People love to eat any of these, but especially fish, quite raw, and restaurants proudly showcase the freshness of their fare by putting the splashing aquariums at the front window.
I had not tried sushi in the United States, but my concept of raw fish was taken to a new understanding when Calvin explained that live fish were cut up and consumed while still moving. I could not abide the smell of the place, but many Koreans think it is a very nice smelling, something like walking into your favorite restaurant.
Needless to say, Calvin and I ate elsewhere and I was impressed with the food. It is very spicy, so much so that Calvin questioned my polite "Yes, it's good!" by commenting that my face was very red. To compound the problem, Koreans often save water for the end of the meal rather than during it.
Despite this, I enjoyed a good deal of pork, mustard-type leaves, bean paste, kimchi, spicy noodles and seaweed vegetables in vinegar. We also tried a few street vendors, which was tasty, but probably in the nutritional league of a hotdog stand.
At my request, we visited a pair of Buddhist temples. I walked inside a few of the shrines, looking closely at the statuettes and even got to spend a few minutes watching a few people pray and meditate in the central building. The temples have several common elements: a bell, several shrines, rows upon rows of candles and, today, a tourist office.
My personal favorite was a smaller temple near the top of a particularly steep mountain. A spring at the top fed water down through the temple area. Especially on a fog-filled morning, it was very peaceful.
That night, I walked for a few minutes along the beach with an umbrella. It was raining, and I recalled that the last time I'd touched the Pacific was two years ago, in Los Angeles. I walked down to the water and it came up, like a dog pouncing on you when all you wanted was a little pat.
The bay overlooked a large multi-lane bridge with alternating color lights. The reflection from the bridge cast an unnatural glow on the clouds just above.
The next morning, I attended Calvin's church.
Both services were in Korean, but I was nonetheless interested to see the church's emphasis on children's ministry. Overall, I considered the experience not substantially different than an American church.
On Sunday evening, we returned to Pohang and another week of school. I was tired, but thankful to Calvin for kindly hosting me for the weekend.
If you would like to see more pictures of Pusan, please visit the "Flickr" link off of my blog at http://ludwhig.blogspot.com/.
Handong has so many international students and so many distinctives of its own that living strictly on-campus and going to school does not present an accurate Korean living experience.
So, after scribbling through a history quiz in order to make the school bus to downtown Pohang, I dashed back to grab my roommmate and off we went.
The bus ride was about an hour and a half, near the coast but rarely in sight of the ocean. I noted all the traditionally-roofed buildings not far from Kyungju, a medieval capitol of the Korean Unified Silla kingdom.
Pusan itself is a larger, coastal city on the south side of Korea. It was a major military site in the Korean war, and has a number of Korean War-related museums and memorials that I hope to visit another time.
We met up with another Handong student, Mike, and immediately set out to see the town. One of the popular "hanging-out" areas was lined with tiny shops lit by neon signs. Food vendors set up shop in the streets, which were small and apparently intended only for pedestrians. Scooters and low-horsepower motorcycles have pedestrian street rules in Korea, so more than once I was beeped at and nearly run over by an intent driver.
The sheer pace of the city was constant. Pusan is quite crowded, and on a weekend night these areas were filled with movement and noise. I enjoyed the frenetic jostle through people-filled streets, but I considered it tiring even in comparison to London.
Americans take for granted that every business has its own parking space; many businesses in Korea are packed very tightly onto multiple floors of an office building, or connected to the street by a flight of stairs down into a basement.
It was already late, and after a week of classes Calvin and I were tired. Calvin leads youth worship every Sunday at a small church, so we rolled out some pads and slept there as he usually does on the weekends.
The next morning, we went to Yongdosung Park, which was more sidewalks than grass, but was still a worthy visit. Pusan is situated on and around the sea-side mountains, and the park was built directly on one of these mountains, so we ascended as soon as the park opened with a series of escalators.
The view from the top was impressive, with a full 180-degree sweep of the city, the port, the fish market and the sea. The top has an amphitheatre area, where a national TV unit was filming a rehearsal for a singing talent show. I didn't get on TV, but a drunk fellow probably did, who stood in the "performers only" area and clapped along in his very own time signature.
I accompanied Calvin to the apartment of his students, a pair of bright middle schoolers. He teaches them English every weekend and I was able to help quiz them and converse with them.
At the first meeting they were extremely shy, as 90% of the schoolchildren are around foreigners, but after the second meeting they became comfortable with me and were much better at speaking. (As a sidenote, the other 10% of Korean schooldren embarress their schoolmates by exclaiming, "Hi!" to the foreigner and waving vigorously. There is always one in every bus load of children.)
Calvin showed me a few notable sites in Pusan: their International Film Festival, an impressively lit bridge overlooking a beach and the "world-famous" Pusan fish market. I walked through stall after stall of fresh fish, squid, octopus, pig head and even some related squirmy things unknown to me.
People love to eat any of these, but especially fish, quite raw, and restaurants proudly showcase the freshness of their fare by putting the splashing aquariums at the front window.
I had not tried sushi in the United States, but my concept of raw fish was taken to a new understanding when Calvin explained that live fish were cut up and consumed while still moving. I could not abide the smell of the place, but many Koreans think it is a very nice smelling, something like walking into your favorite restaurant.
Needless to say, Calvin and I ate elsewhere and I was impressed with the food. It is very spicy, so much so that Calvin questioned my polite "Yes, it's good!" by commenting that my face was very red. To compound the problem, Koreans often save water for the end of the meal rather than during it.
Despite this, I enjoyed a good deal of pork, mustard-type leaves, bean paste, kimchi, spicy noodles and seaweed vegetables in vinegar. We also tried a few street vendors, which was tasty, but probably in the nutritional league of a hotdog stand.
At my request, we visited a pair of Buddhist temples. I walked inside a few of the shrines, looking closely at the statuettes and even got to spend a few minutes watching a few people pray and meditate in the central building. The temples have several common elements: a bell, several shrines, rows upon rows of candles and, today, a tourist office.
My personal favorite was a smaller temple near the top of a particularly steep mountain. A spring at the top fed water down through the temple area. Especially on a fog-filled morning, it was very peaceful.
That night, I walked for a few minutes along the beach with an umbrella. It was raining, and I recalled that the last time I'd touched the Pacific was two years ago, in Los Angeles. I walked down to the water and it came up, like a dog pouncing on you when all you wanted was a little pat.
The bay overlooked a large multi-lane bridge with alternating color lights. The reflection from the bridge cast an unnatural glow on the clouds just above.
The next morning, I attended Calvin's church.
Both services were in Korean, but I was nonetheless interested to see the church's emphasis on children's ministry. Overall, I considered the experience not substantially different than an American church.
On Sunday evening, we returned to Pohang and another week of school. I was tired, but thankful to Calvin for kindly hosting me for the weekend.
If you would like to see more pictures of Pusan, please visit the "Flickr" link off of my blog at http://ludwhig.blogspot.com/.
I certainly share your opinion of the seafood and sushi. I did manage to force myself to eat some raw octopus while I was there--but only because I valued my hostess' feelings more than my personal safety. :) I'm not quite sure my stomach would have the strength to do it in another similar situation. :)
I, too, always get the "dog pouncing on you" effect of the ocean's waves whenever I get near enough just to catch the scent of the sea. :) I'm not too fond of jellyfish,and they always seem to find me, so I don't usually stray too close. :) I love the ocean purely for its long-revered romance and faithfulness.
I think one of the most wonderful aspects of my visit to Korea was the great abundance of time I was able to spend in the worship services there. As the congregants sang some songs well-beloved by my heart and long-secured in the recesses of my American soul, I joined in English when my Korean simply "wouldn't do." :) How wonderful Heaven must be with "every tongue and tribe and nation" together adoring our precious Savior. What a unity His name brings!
Korea's being brought very close to me tomorrow. (How very blessed I am!) A few days ago I received a call from one of my friends in the Seoul/Daejeon area. She asked me if I'd be willing to house a young woman who wanted to visit the States for language study. I'm thrilled that the visitor, Yejin, will be arriving tomorrow evening to stay several weeks with my family and me. Her English teacher is to be "yours truly". :) She's looking forward to teaching me more Hangul, so everything is working out beautifully. God is, indeed, so very good to His children...yet another time He's blessed me when I've wanted to serve another. :)
Thanks again for the wonderful column. I hope there are many more opportunities for you to enjoy "real" Korean culture. :) I pray God continues to bless you in all.