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In Which Pollution Kicks My Butt
Today I went into town to get groceries and to fortify myself for the Sunday Emart rush, I got a latte and picked up my coffee first, rather than as a treat for making it out alive. My favorite coffee shop is trying to kill me though. They won't sell me a pound of coffee. They won't sell me more than 100 grams of ground coffee because they are convinced that by the time I get through it all it won't be perfectly fresh. Which is true, it WILL take me an entire week or two to get through it. But even if it was a month old, I would still drink it. Stale coffee is much better than me attempting to teach without having had any coffee. Sometimes I convince them to sell me more, and promise to drink it up before it goes stale but today I didn't have the energy and settled for the paltry 100 grams. Maybe on Wednesday, when I'm all out of coffee I shall whip out my super amazing Konglish skills for the argument.
I wanted to sit in the park after all of that...but then I got a phone call at 4:02 reminding me that I was supposed to be online for a Skype discussion on Korean teaching culture at 4pm. This is what happens when I don't write things down. It was interesting but by the time I finished I was just wanted to make dinner and veg out again. I actually had a balanced meal: scrambled eggs, bacon, red pepper slices and OJ. Not healthy per se but I got in multiple food groups!
Spaz updates from the weekend:
1. This morning, I put my brace on the wrong ankle. I stood up, realized something was funny and looked down only to go 'doh!'
2. Tripped over my own feet while attempting to walk across the apartment (no new sprains resulted though so it's a spaz win!)
3. Accidentally whacked the Cragon in the balls while trying to smack his arm to look at the crazy socks being sold on the street. The Partial Asian and the ajumma watching couldn't stop laughing. The Cragon was less than perfectly amused. I imagine being smacked in the crotch is not a very pleasant thing.
Neon Streets and Japanese Eats: Dining in Seomyeon
Late one evening a couple weeks ago I caught the subway to Seomyeon with Jason, Bryan and Dianna–three of the five teachers who make up my awesome American teaching posse. Jason’s lived here six months; it was Bryan and Dianna’s second night in town.
In the maze of people-packed, neon-lit streets, we couldn’t find the Turkish restaurant Jason hoped to lead us to, so we slipped into a smoky Japanese joint, befriended four bar stools, and feasted on plates of steaming skewers.
Other than the beef surprise I picked out of my udon noodles, and an unfortunate head attached to my mackeral pike, the experience left me intrigued: Korea’s culinary offerings provide mystery for both the palette and the eye.
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Scroll down for two new pics from Cornell class: Daniel and Jason, 6-year-old boys who remind me daily that patience is a teacher’s greatest tool. (Sometimes it can be found in a Friday-night sip of soju!)
Around Korea in 5 days- Day 5 Gwangju 광주 to Busan 부산
Around Korea in 5 days- Day 4 Sachen to Gwangju 광주
Around Korea in 5 days- Day 3 Seoul서울 to Sachen
Destination: Jangam / Suraksan (Uijeongbu)
The Lady in Red and I decided to see what there was at the northern end of Seoul's line 7 subway. Although the immediate surroundings were less than impressive, an area across the street held some promise - a crab and a couple brown signs, commonly used for tourist or natural sights.
As it turns out, Jangam station is the perfect place to see Suraksan, or Mt. Surak as a Westerner might call it. Not to be confused with Seoraksan, the National Park in Gangwon-do offering a month's worth of hiking, Suraksan is an easy day trip from anywhere in Seoul.
A gorgeous mountain - and we're still across the street from it.
It goes without saying that every mountain has to be climbed. This one was no different, although a paved road did indicate the path for as high up as we climbed.
Like most places in the nation, there are adequate places to buy anything you might need to conquer the mountain. Not pictured to the left is a more-than-adequate supply of walking sticks - one of which the Lady in Red walked away with.
More than a few groups come to Suraksan to hike the mountain - so pick a flyer to join one of them. A bit tacky, but possibly helpful - if you can read Korean or can sign up in Korean.
Follow the road uphill to the welcoming gate. While the purist hikers may disapprove of the road, it's admittedly easier to follow - and a lot easier to get a car up. Not pictured are a number of permanent shops and restaurants, some featuring the infamous bosintang (dog meat soup).
While walking up the mountain, we came across 노강서원 - Nogang Seowon, or a Confucian school. Originally built in 1689 in Noryangjin (central Seoul), the school was built in tribute to Bak Taebo, who was exiled for opposing the removal of Queen Inhyeon. Rebuilt on the site of Cheongjeolsa (temple), it was one of 47 seowon to be allowed to operate under the government of Lord Taewon. Not a whole lot worth seeing, but a reminder that generations of Korean children really did have to walk two kilometers uphill to school.
Here there be dragons!
While there are several hiking trails up Suraksan, quite a few will take you past 석림사, or Seoklimsa (temple), also called 'Suklimsa'. While the English version of the engraved sign has a number of typos, the temple was first founded in 1671. The temple was rebuilt several times, but was completely burnt down in 1950 during the Korean war. In 1960, a nun happened to call at the temple and decided to rebuild it. By 1965, 'Sangin nun' had rebuilt the temple with her own hands.
The main building - we didn't try to get in, but it didn't exactly appear open to tourists.
One of the other buildings of the temple.
I broke my rule of not photographing Buddhas - but then again, there was no one around to stop us. A wonderful sight - one that needs to be experienced for yourself, if you can make the trip up. Each of the smaller Buddhas is essentially identical - and there are hundreds.
No sign indicates what's inside this pagoda, although it's a beautiful sight no matter.
There's plenty more of the mountain to see, but we didn't intend to hike the entire thing. It's a quick day trip from anywhere on the Seoul subway system, and the small temple is worth the trip by itself. If you're interested in hiking the mountain, there are ample maps available to navigate the several trails around the area.
Ratings (out of 5 taeguks):
Ease to arrive:
Foreigner-friendly:
Convenience facilities:
Worth the visit:
Directions to Suraksan: Take line 7 all the way to the northernmost terminus of Jangam. Only every other train goes all the way north; if the train you get on ends at Dobongsan, get off and wait for the next train to take you to Jangam. Once there, go out the only exit and walk towards the road. Look across the road for the mountain and the crab in the first picture. Walk past a number of restaurants and stores, and you'll eventually see the maps of Suraksan.
© Chris Backe - 2010
This post was originally published on my blog, Chris in South Korea. If you are reading this on another website and there is no linkback or credit given, you are reading an UNAUTHORIZED FEED.
COEX and Ho Lee Chow
Greatest American Lyricists
I had the pleasure today, while driving in my Cadillac Car and listening to the radio...
I had the pleasure of listening to Bruce Springsteen singing, Thunder Road,
a rare live version, with no guitar or bass or drums, just Roy Bitian on piano
while Bruce sung the song’s lyrics. The screen door slams. Mary’s dress waves.
Like a vision she dances across the floor as the radio plays. Roy Orbison sang
for the lonely Hey that’s me and I want you only…
It made me think of the great American singer/songwriters: Paul Simon, Bob Dylan,
Bruce Springsteen, John Foggerty, Cat Stevens, even Frank Black. What is it about
some rock n roll songwriters that elevates them beyond the cool quick lyrics of say
Van Halen or Bon Jovi, who is another great American songwriter? What is it that gives elite,
timeless status to singer/songwriters; as opposed to, what older Americans may have said
in the sixties when they first heard Rock and Roll. It’s just noise!?!? What gives?
In 2010, classical musicians, classically trained and universally educated, perform works
composed by Handel, Mozart, and other classical musicians -- there is no weirdness in these
productions; like -- hey, these musicians didn't write the music; they didn't live in 18th or 19th
century Bavaria or Austrian-Hungary. That question never comes up. Anybody talented
enough can play Mozart or Puccini and gather acclaim.
So, when I saw that RUSH tribute band on Saturday night, my only feeling was -- 10 bucks
to hear RUSH's music from the 70's performed by a band that looked like RUSH from the
70's, as opposed to paying 80 bucks to see the real RUSH promoting their latest album –
Experiencing RUSH playing the live, extended version of Working Man with full on 12 minute
jam with less than 100 people watching -- I felt I was at the better show with the tribute
band. They were amazing. They put on stellar show. They were called Caress of Steel, and
they play in LA regularly. Their singer can actually hit the old Geddy Lee falsettos.
Still, what about the great American singer/songwriters? Even the Canadians, like Neil Young?
I've mentioned many of the great rock singer/songwriters -- what about other original
American genres of music? Jazz, swing, blues -- other American original music hasn't
placed an emphasis on lyrics.
Lyrics -- that is what elevates Dylan and Springsteen over other worthy singers / songwriters
like John Foggerty or Bob Segar or Tom Petty. It's the lyrics. Dylan and Springsteen always
have at least 4 verses per song, sometimes 5; and their words go on for endless.
I think Kurt Kobain was a great song writer, but he never had the lyrical, literary integrity that
Springsteen and Dylan have. Even Jim Morrison never had that Troubadour verse thing going
on. Most rock songs work with catchy couplets or simple lyrics, but the Dylan and Springsteen
lyrics, more than any other American lyricist, not only tell a story, but do so in a longwinded manner.
So let’s cut to the OTHER American musical form -- RAP MUSIC or HIP HOP. I can think of
a lot of acts that I’ve loved. Public Enemy, Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Queen Latifah –
so many artists from the 80’s to the 90’s
to the new Millennium. Jay Z, Babyface, 50 Cent, Cyprus Hill – I’m a big fan of many hip hop
artists – I think Mos Def is most talented. Still, if I had to choose a favorite rock and roll band,
I couldn’t. There’s no way. Queen, Zep, The Who, Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZTOP, The Minuteman.
I could not choose a single favorite. I like too many.
However, if I had to choose a favorite rapper, I’d have no problem choosing. Ice Cube would
be my choice. Hands down. I’ve been a fan of Ice Cube since he was in NWA. He wrote
their best lyrics, although Easy E sometimes rapped them. Ice Cube is, in my opinion,
the greatest American songwriter in the rap genre, more than Chuck D. or any other rapper
in the 80’s, 90’s or 2000’s. Why? Is it cuz he is so offensive? Perhaps. It is his clear-cut
approach to life, speaking out about stuff that may offend. It is for this reason, not so much
the subversive element, as much as his honesty and ability to talk about taboo subjects in
such as clear light.
It is for this reason that I deem ICE CUBE as the greatest lyricist of this current time. And
in the same way I elevate Dylan, who needs no props, and ICE CUBE, who gets only props
here, I think Eminem is the voice of my generation come 2010. Eminem’s RELAPSE album
is the great music, lyrically, that has come out America since Bob Dylan.
This is my mere opinion. And here are some Eminem lyrics from Relapse. Enjoy.
Here comes the rain, and thunder now
Nowhere to run, to run to now
I disappeared, they'll wonder how
Looking for me, I'm underground
Dre, I'm down here, under the ground, dig me up
Broken tibias, fibias, yeah fix me up
60 sluts, all of them dying from asphyxia
After they sip piss through a Christopher Reeves sippy cup
Dixie cups, toxins, boxes of oxy pads
Enough oxy cotton to send a fucking Ox to rehab
Whack job in the back, in a black stocking cap
Jacking off to a hockey mask, at a boxing match
"He can't say that", yes he can, I just did faggot
Now guess again, you better text message your next of kin
Tell em shit's about to get extra messy, especially when
I flex again, and throw a fuckin' lesbian in wet cement
Faggoty faggoty faggoty, raggedy Anne and Andy, no
Raggedy Andy and Andy, no it can't be, it can't be
Yes it can be, the fuckin' anti-christ is back Danny
It's Satan in black satin panties
This is Amityville, calamity, god damn it insanity
Pills, fanny pack filled with Xany's
Through every nook and cranny, lookin' for trannys
Milk and cookies, spilt on my silk negligee, looky
Razor b-lades with me to make you b-leed
Cases of Maybelline make up lay on a table of weed
Slim Shady, shit sounds like a fable to me
'Til he jumps out of the fuckin' toilet when you're takin' a pee
Here comes the rain, and thunder now
Nowhere to run, to run to now
I disappeared, they'll wonder how
Looking for me, I'm underground
6 semen samples, 17 strands of hair
Found in the back of a van after the shoot with Vanity Fair
Hannah Montana prepare to elope with a can opener
And be cut open like cantaloupe on canopy beds
And gladbags yeah, glad to be back
Cause last year was a tragedy that landed me smack dab in rehab
Fuckin' doctor, I ain't understand a damn what he said
I planned to relapse the second I walked out of that bitch
Two weeks in Brighton, I ain't enlightened
Biting into a fuckin' vicodin like I'm a viking
Oh lightening is striking, might be a fuckin' sign I need a psychic
Evaluation, fuck Jason it's Friday the 19th
That means it's just a regular day
And this is the kinda shit I think of regularly
Fuckin' lesbian, shouldn't of had her legs in the way
Now she's pregnant and gay, missing both legs and begging to stay
Here comes the rain, and thunder now
Nowhere to run, to run to now
I disappeared, they'll wonder how
Looking for me, I'm underground
Tell the critics I'm back and I'm coming
To spit it back in abundance
Hit a fag with onions, then split a fag of Funions
Mad at me, understandable, cannibal, shoot an animal
out of a cannon and have him catapult, add an adult
Captain of a cult, with an elite following
To turn halloween back to a trick or treat holiday
Have Michael Myers looking like a liar
Swipe his powers, replace his knife with flowers and a stack of flyers
Hit Jason Vorhees with a 40, stuck a sepository up his ass
And made him tell me a story, gave Hannibal lector a fuckin' nectarine
And sat him in the fuckin' fruit and vegetables section and gave him a lecture
Walked up elm street with a fuckin' wiffle bat drew
Fought Freddy Krugar, and Edward Scissorhands too
Then came out with a little scratch, ooh
Looking like I got in a fucking pillow fight, with a triple fat goose
Insanity? can't it be vanity, where's the humanity
In havin' a twisted fantasy with an arm and leg amputee
Straight jacket with 108 brackets
And a strap that wraps twice around my back, then they latch it.
Cut your fuckin' head off, and that's where you headed off to
Get it, headed off to? Medic, this headache's awful
this anesthetic's pathetic, so's this diabetic waffle
and this prosthetic arm keeps crushing my hard taco
Here comes the rain, and thunder now
Nowhere to run, to run to now
I disappeared, they'll wonder how
Looking for me, I'm underground
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