Where does the time go? It's been over a year since we have written anything in this blog. Liam is busy working now, and since I'm not (yet), and have some free time, I figured I'd add a new post. The open-ended journey continues, and we now find ourselves living in South Korea, in the southern coastal city of Ulsan. Sometimes life here can feel quite "normal" and cozy, like we could be almost anywhere, shopping for groceries, taking out the trash, going for a walk in the park, riding the bus across town. Usually it doesn't take long for some experience to jolt me back to the reality that I stick out like a sore thumb and I feel awkwardly like the foriegner that I am. Not an entirely bad realization, just an invigorating, bewildering jolt every now and then.
One of the most positive of these experiences happened last week when I stopped by the dry cleaners to pick up our clean items. While I was attempting to balance my bags of previously bought groceries and clean clothes on hangers in my arms in preparation for the short walk home, the old man who runs the dry cleaners rushed outside and wordlessly grabbed everything out of my hands, piling it all into his nearby car. Without even removing his apron and face mask, he started up the engine and insisted on driving me and my load back to my apartment, which was really only about 3 blocks away. He spoke almost no english, but smiled and nodded emphatically as I thanked him for delivering me at my doorstep. What a gentleman. That has never happened to me in the states.
Another strange and wonderful experience occured when I went to see a doctor about some recurring lower back pain. (Side note: with our Korean health insurance plan, I paid just eight dollars for a visit to the physical therapist - including x-rays, meeting with doctor, physical therapy, and a short dose of painkiller drugs. Talk about affordable health care!)
So, doctor's appointment over, I found my way to the pharmacy to fill my prescription. The pharmacist, a smiling, crinkly eyed, old man in an argyle sweater, hands me my pills, and explains, in lengthy Korean, when and for how long I should take them. He then reaches for my right hand and massages my palm and upper ligaments, looking into my eyes and asking (i'm certain i could "read" it in his eyes) if particular pressure points were affecting the pain in my lower back. It felt so comforting and relieving to have him rub my hand, and I stood there, confused but transfixed, wishing that I could comprehend what he was saying. I tried willing myself to understand Korean, but no luck. Everybody in the pharmacy stopped and watched as he massaged the western lady's hand over the formica counter and inquired about various pressure points. Once he determined one point was more effective than another, by my enthusiastic nods, he taped three tiny metal balls to the spot on my hand and pressed them hard into the flesh between my ligaments. It felt strange and wonderful, and indeed, sent shivers of relaxation down my spine. He smiled and said (at least I think he said) to leave the tape on for the rest of the evening. I paid 2,300 won (about two dollars), thanked him with a grateful smile, and floated happily back into the wintery city streets.
Yet another experience, not nearly as friendly, occured yesterday, when I went for a swim at our local public pool. After getting chastised by the lifeguard for not wearing a swim cap - i haven't learned my lesson that everyone wears swim caps in Korean pools, even bald men - I had to fight my way through hordes of naked "Ajummas" in the steaming shower room. An ajumma is a Korean old woman - you frequently hear people use the term the way we would use "ma'am". After showering, I walked over to my locker to towel off and change...and that's where I went oh so amiss! According to a blog about living in Korea, (http://www.itsalwayssunnyinsouthkorea.com/cultural-lessons-from-an-evil-ajuma), "Korean culture accords automatic virtue and respect to anyone who is older than you, particularly grandparents and the elderly. It’s common knowledge that when an ajumma tells you to move, you move. If she pushes you off a bus, jabs you with her walking stick, shoves you out of the way on an elevator or barks an order at you, you are supposed to obey. She’s old and deserves respect, after all."
And yes, I have been shoved and elbowed by some pretty nasty old ajummas in bus lines or at the grocery store if I happened to be where they want to be. So, back to the pool locker room - a particularly loud and bossy ajumma starts shouting at me across the locker room, apparently horrified that I had the nerve to drip water on the locker room floor. How dare I drip after showering!? The old bat, I mean ajumma, follows me to my locker, harassing me in Korean the whole way, and gets in my face and rails at me as I'm trying to change, um, discretely. I'm feeling a little annoyed at this point, and turning around, give her a big shrug and nasty look, as if to say "you want to make something of it?!" She finally backed away, grumbling to any other old ajummas who cared. I left in a hurry and shook it off.
Can't please everyone here as a clumsy westerner. Lesson learned - I'll just smile profusely at the sweet old men, and steer clear of the ajumma bullies. If she knew I used to knock around ladies three times her size in Roller Derby, she might think twice about messin' with me...
Till next time, happy adventuring to all!
