Jeju Notes: Abalone and Pork Belly

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This is the 2nd part of my notes on Jeju Island, Korea’s largest island, reknowned for a matrilocal culture of women divers. Here I talk about our adventures in food-gathering.

The hotel was in the remote southern part of the island, in the Jungmun resort complex. Since it was the off-season, virtually all the shopping areas, restaurants, and cafés in the complex were closed or under renovation. We sometimes had to go into an attraction or museum to eat at their restaurant. And even then, some of these places also had closed restaurants and cafes.  We had to settle for canned coffee from a vending machine in the sculpture park.  And succumbed to entering the Teddy Bear Museum because they had a Lotteria in there.

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Big Pink Bags
On most days, we went to the town of Jungmun and ate at restaurants there, or brought food back to the hotel room. There was one large supermarket in town where we stocked up on lots of Korean teas, snacks, ginseng, and kim (nori in Japanese).  

In Japan I’m constantly telling store clerks that I don’t need a bag, or to just give me one bag, instead of incessantly wrapping every individual item in separate bags.  They mean well, but it’s unnecessary and annoying. So I was in mild shock when the clerk in the Korean store asked me if we wanted a bag, even though there was a small mountain of groceries and we clearly didn’t have a bag of our own.

Then I was mildly shocked again when the clerk just gave us one bright pink bag.  Although it was much larger and sturdier than the flimsy ziploc-size bags that I’m given in Japan, it was clearly not enough for our groceries.  I thought maybe the cashier was just inexperienced or stupid, but we had a similar interaction with another clerk on another day.  

Now, I can’t get mad, because a) I get annoyed when the opposite happens, b) we should have brought our own bags, and c) the clerk had no attitude about it whatsoever; she just gave us a bag if we wanted it.  

Searching for Deokbukki

Another interesting observation is that there was no ass-kissing from service workers, yet definitely no attitude.  In Japan, there’s a lot of thanking and bowing, a lot of presenting and introducing of food and drinks, elaborate askings of permissions to pour me more water, a good deal of apologizing, etc.  In all the Korean restaurants, the servers just wordlessly brought food, kept the glasses filled, and generally just kept track of the table without much fuss.  Every now and then, the owner might come over and chit chat out of curiosity.

We were surprised to find that there were no Starbucks, McDonald’s, or any of the other familiar American chains that one finds in international resort areas. So much of the area was closed for the off-season that we eventually had to eat at the expensive hotel restaurant one night. But oh it was so tasty we went back our last night there.

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When I went to Seoul a couple years back, I loved eating all the great affordable Korean food. It was great to dine in restaurants with generous servings, with panchan (all the complimentary little dishes that accompany Korean meals). At one restaurant they didn’t even charge me for the beer. Even when I pointed out that it wasn’t on the bill, the cashier just waved it off.

In contrast, in most Japanese restaurants, an alcoholic drink is served with a mandatory tiny serving of squid or whatever, that’ll run you an extra 3-5 bucks. And service, though very polite, is often inflexible. A two hour reservation must end by two hours, even if the restaurant is empty and there’s no one waiting, for instance.  Don’t get me wrong. I think overall Tokyo has the best food in the world, with excellent service. But in Korean restaurants, there’s an easy-going, casual, generous spirit, that is rare in Japanese restaurants.

So of course I was licking my chops to eat basic Korean dishes like duk manduguk or deokbukki, or japchae. But we couldn’t find any restaurants that served these dishes. I understand that some of these dishes are considered street snacks, but it shouldn’t have been near impossible to find them.  We eventually found, one food stand that sold deokbukki, odeng, and kimbap for about a dollar a roll.  Tasty!

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Most of the menus were on the walls. And there’s no English. Every restaurant we went into had dishes we’d never heard of. And since the dishes were all unfamiliar to me I had a perplexed expression on my face. Eventually the restaurant owner would ask me if I wanted recommendations. So I just asked them to serve whatever was popular. Invariably, it included the seafood jigae, a spicy stew.

The seafood jigae always had abalone, which is what the women divers of Jeju mostly harvest.  Sometimes it was sparkled with a cilantro-like seasoning I’d never tasted before. Another local specialty was thinly sliced pork belly, which was really tasty. Sometimes it was steamed, sometimes grilled, and it came with a variety of pungent sauces.  My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Another tasty local specialty are the tangerines.  They have a unique light sweetness that I’d never tasted before.

The kimchee was a bit sour for my tastes. Maybe I’m too accustomed to the sweeter varieties that are served in Japan or the US. At first, we thought they served us a less spicy watered down version for foreigners. So I asked them if there were any spicier kimchee for Koreans. And they said that was it. So that’s another local variation I suppose.

So when in Jeju, the pork belly is a must, the abalone is (pleasantly) unavoidable, the tangerines are refreshing, the kimchee is regrettable, and carrying your own shopping bags is recommended.

Jeju Notes: Off-Season Meanderings

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As I mentioned in my previous post, T and I went to Jeju Island last month and I thought I’d type out some of my notes from the trip.

Jeju is Korea’s biggest island. Its oval shape is like an egg off the peninsula’s southern coast. In the middle there’s Mt. Halla, the volcano that created the whole thing. The climate is sub-tropical, but the landscape looked to me like a well-watered Southern California, with palm trees and gentle hills.

Jeju is Korea’s favorite destination for honeymooners, so there are several love and sex museums or parks, lots of romantic photo opportunities, and tons of symbols for marriage. We didn’t go to any of those museums though.

The island also has 3 natural UNESCO World Heritage Sites: Mt. Halla, some cavernous lava tube caves, and a picturesque small crown-peaked island attached to Jeju by a thin strip of land. Sadly, we didn’t go to any of these either.

So what did we do? Here are a few places we visited.

The Garden
We went to the Yeomiji Gardens, which had a gargantuan greenhouse in the shape of a sunflower. Each ‘petal’ housed different themes of plants. My favorite was the fruit tree room.

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In the middle of the glass flower, you can go up to a ‘stamen’ tower and get great views of the surroundings.  And outside there were well-manicured English, Italian, Japanese and Korean gardens.

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The Teddy Bear Museum
Nearby, we were pleasantly surprised by the Teddy Bear Museum. We thought it was too cheesy to enter, but they had a restaurant in there, and we were gagging for some coffee that didn’t come in a can from a vending machine.

The museum was awesome in a cheeky, self-referential way. For one thing, architecturally, the conical glass structure is quite contemporary. And the whole thing is located at the head of a canyon that empties into the sea.

glass conethe teddy bears of Xian

You can learn the history of the teddy bear. There were antique bears, some over 200 years old. And there were contemporary creations like this Shin Ramyun bear.  Our favorite section had teddy bear representations of famous art, like this iconic Klimt painting.

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The Sculpture Park
As lovers of sculpture and art we had to go to the sculpture park. It’s much bigger than the Hakone Outdoor Museum, with many more pieces. But it doesn’t have any internationally famous artists represented. Instead, it’s probably the most complete cross-section of Korean sculptors assembled anywhere.

Since this park is a bit remote, there were probably fewer than 10 visitors including us. It was like a scene from the movie Spirited Away, an eerily deserted amusement park. Except it wasn’t creepy. It was just empty, which was nice because we basically had the whole place to ourselves.

After strolling through all the paths and checking out the art, we settled onto the expansive lawn and sketched some of our favorite pieces.

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The African Art Museum
Inexplicably, there’s a museum of African art. We had so many questions about this museum. For instance, how did it end up here? Was it a rich benefactor with a love of African art? Or was it some governmental exchange that subsidized it? And what about the performers that played percussion and danced for visitors 3 times a day? What’s their story?

The Museum itself is a replica of the Djenne Mosque.  Inside there were several galleries of photographs, tons of masks, and other traditional ritual paraphernalia.  

fake Djenne Mosque

For the full set of pictures click here.

The World’s Most Alienating Airport

I recently returned from a week in Korea and got to add one more airport to the list that I’ve been to.  I wrote on my “25 Random Things About Me” viral Facebook thingy that I love airports.  But the more I think about it, it’s not that I love airports, it’s that I like traveling and identify airports with seeing the world.

There are some airports I really like. But most of them are pretty uncomfortable. And a few are terribly cold and alienating. Thankfully, I’ve never been to Prague’s Kafka International Airport.

  

At the Temple of Paul Bunyan

Paul Bunyan

When we were driving through redwood country in northern California, we came across a colossal statue of Paul Bunyan and his companion, Babe the blue ox. Paul Bunyan is an American legend, a mythical, giant lumberjack. There are all kinds of stories about his adventures. This statue, which was in the parking lot of the Trees of Mystery attraction, had the voice of a man speaking to the tourists who approached the statue to take pictures. Paul Bunyan and I chatted about our trip. It was a neat trick.

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The Paul Bunyan stories mostly consist of him being very very very large and doing things with a huge impact. You could say that Paul Bunyan is kind of a deity. He’s larger than life, has unworldly powers. And there are statues of him all over the US where he is revered and honored.

The whole thing reminds me of Hindu shrines, especially the temples dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva and his bovine companion, Nandi. Notice how both of their right hands are raised in the position of a classic mudra.  They also both hold weapons.  Paul holds his trusty ax, while Shiva has his trident.  Paul is almost always portrayed in blue trousers.  And Shiva is usually depicted with blue skin.  Babe is also always blue.  While Nandi is white, there is a species of antelope in Northern India called a nilgai or blue bull.  There are so many of them that they’re considered pests.

Shiva and Paul Bunyan also share many similar adventures.  They’ve both subdued giant snakes, formed mountain ranges, created rivers or oceans, and generally go about their business with moral indifference.

Could there be some connection here between the Paul Bunyan legends and Indian cosmology?

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Always Coming Home: The Windiad no. 12

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This is the last installment of the Windiad, my epic journey back to the West Coast of the US, with thick references to Homer’s The Odyssey, another story about a man going home. To read the whole thing, all out of order but conveniently numbered for the linearly-minded, click on this sentence.

At the End of the World

It’s been a few weeks since we returned from the US. It took two weeks just to finish unpacking because I was so busy with work. And three weeks to write the rest of the Windiad. America already seems like a dream. Except when I follow the election and then it’s a bit of a nightmare.

I’m back among the busy, hard-working, sleep-deprived Japanese. The cicadas have already gone underground. Typhoon season has begun, with a huge monster of a storm coming this way.

The first week back, there were nonstop thunderstorms. Twice, the boom of thunder woke me up and I thought Tokyo was being attacked or there was a terrorist bomb that exploded nearby. It was apocalyptic. There’s no other way to describe it. If the world ends, that’s how it would go. It’s since calmed down and now the weather is balmy, cool. I feel like I can think again, without the weight of humidity pressed against my brain.

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Where is Ithaca?

I’ve been able to contemplate once again, what home is to me. Is it America? Most certainly. I felt comfortable and at ease. My family is there, most of my friends. Large swathes of my past.

And what part of America is my home? I haven’t been to my hometown in Southern California since 1999, and I haven’t lived there since 1988. I felt a disconnect in Eugene, where I lived for a decade. Aside from many good friends who still live there, the town was full of faces I vaguely recognized. Santa Cruz, where I attended university isn’t recognizable at all since it’s been rebuilt after the ’89 earthquake. And I’ve never lived in Portland, where I most felt at home.

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Now when people ask me where I’m from, I just say, The West Coast. It encompasses the Pacific Ocean, the Coast Mountain Range, the Cascades, the conifer forests, the oak hills, and Interstate Highway 5. It covers all the small college towns that I’ve lived in all up and down the coast. Most of my family and many of my friends are there. So the West Coast, that’ll do.

And what about Tokyo, my home for the last 3 years. Is this the Ithaca (Odysseus’ home) that I’ve been sailing to? Or is this just another of the many islands that I’ll be stopping at on the way back ‘home’? It certainly is home. I have a blast with T’s sizable big-hearted, fun-loving family. They really make it feel like home.

Odysseus criss-crossed across the Aegean Sea trying to get back to his kingdom and his wife, Penelope. But in my odyssey, my wife traveled with me. So in a way, I was already ‘home’, yet on my way home.



On My Way, Never Arriving
One of my favorite books, that’s almost impossible to find now, is Ursula K LeGuin’s ‘anthropology of the future’, Always Coming Home. This work of fiction imagined a future, post-industrial California. The title refers to a song sung by members, of this imagined culture, who are best described as the tribe’s adventurers and explorers. I was finally able to write down this song from the copy that I’ve kept at my parents’ home.

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The idea is that these explorers are always on their way back home, even if they are on their way to other lands. At the same time, wherever they are, they are at home. They are always coming home. I relate to this sense of never having arrived, never feeling like I’m home yet. But I have also always felt that wherever I was living at the moment, I could stay there for a long time. I felt both at home and not at home.


That’s how I feel about Tokyo too. Our plan, my Penelope and I, is to stay a couple more years. But it doesn’t really matter where we go. Our home is wherever we are together. Maybe when people ask where I’m from, I should just say, “I don’t know quite where my home is, but I do know that I’m here.”

Initiation Song from the Finders Lodge by Ursula K LeGuin

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be your mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
and the ways you go be the lines on your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
and your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well loved one,
walk mindfully, well loved one,
walk fearlessly, well loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
be always coming home.