This colleague’s colleague turned out to have worked with my boss, a decade ago, in India.

Then my language exchange partner was friends with a former neighbour.

And just Sunday, my friend Wyatt introduced me to the dog shelter worker I had met just the day before.

Could Seoul be even smaller than Kuala Lumpur?

The idea was mainly to get out of the country to renew Wally’s visa, so up until the day before departure, we didn’t have much of a clue of what we were going to do. A look at a map of Kansai taught us that Kôya san was probably the most accessible place from Ôsaka airport, so we decided to go back there. (It would later turn out not to be all that smart, because from the airport you need to go back north to Osaka before taking the private train line south to the monastery complex anyway.) A quick copy-pasting of the dedicated paragraph from Wikitravel sent to my Blackberry, a bunch of clean clothes and a few books thrown in a backpack, and we headed out.

Because you’ve already heard it all about Japan, let’s not go through the events in chronological order. Rather, some intriguing themes kept popping up.

Traveler’s Luck

The trip started very nicely with a free upgrade to business class (my first upgrade ever – awww) which we didn’t get to enjoy as thoroughly as we would have liked, as we didn’t inform anyone of our non-meat-eating ways and were promptly served salmon. Seriously, who would expect a meal for a 90 mnute flight at 3 in the afternoon? At least the dessert, plump seats and massive legroom were very enjoyable.

The next token of luck came after a two hour train ride back to Osaka, up through the mountains of Kii peninsula, and a nice cable car ride to the village of Kôya-san. This journey from civilization to monastery ends with a bus ride, which you pay on board, cash. As we had just barely landed, though, we only had big bills which the on board machine would not accept. When anywhere else in the world we would have been stuck with this problem and a “tough luck” attitude from the driver, here he simply wrote us the amount due on a piece of paper and suggested we pay for it at the station, before we leave. This is one of the many reasons why I love Japan – trust systems that just work.

Wally’s Disastrous Hiking Ideas

So Wally is a fan of hiking. Fine with me, de gustibus et coloribus and all that. But every time he takes me up a mountain, catastrophes seem to ensue. Okay, the blame can be cast most of the time on 1. the LP and 2. Japanese sucky map skills, but still. You remember our ordeal near Sendai that almost got us stranded on a cold mountain at night. And just 2 weeks ago, he tried to take me on what was described in the guidebook as a nice 2-hour stroll north of Seoul, that turned out to be a 6 hour hike requiring some mountaineering experience and rope safety skills (luckily I found that out before we got started). Anyway, this time we went on the Koyasan’s women’s path, an old pilgrimage road that used to be reserved for women devouts, who were not actually allowed within the monastery complex. We weren’t even 2 hours out, and hiking along a mountain crest, when lightning hit within hundred of meters of our feet. Repeatedly. It goes without saying that we ran down to the valley as fast as we could (and that’s not very fast when you’re soaked all the way to your underwear) while thunderbolts were chasing after us.

The next day had good weather, but terrible planning. What was supposed to take seven hours going uphill ended up requiring over 9 hours going downhill. Luckily we made it to our train station just before nightfall this time. With blistered feet, dry throats and not-so-high spirits.

The Curse of the Dragon Tattoo

I have been trying to read the first opus of the Millenium trilogy for over a year now. But it seems that this book is doomed. I first bought it on my way to Bali, last summer, but didn’t have a chance to open it until November. When I came down with the flu in Holland, and my thoughts were delirious enough not to spice them up with a thriller. I picked up the book again some time after Christmas, and was getting really into it… when I forgot it on a Seoul-Paris flight. Since CDG does not seem to keep a proper lost and found office, that copy was lost forever. My friend Elsie read this book recently and I borrowed it from her to have a chance to finish it.

Sadly… it was in my backpack during the disastrous hike. And got soaked from  cover to cover. It’s not in as bad of a shape as Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which is still not dry after 3 days or airing, but it’s definitely not in a shape I’d like to find any book I lend a friend. Sorry Elsie! I’ll buy you a new one.

Japan

I love it. Still. Always. Inexplicably. I want to go back.

For more stories and a photo album, check out Wally‘s account of our holiday!

Seen the weather go from November to woah man it’s hot in a couple days. Sworn my next pay check would be dedicated to installing air conditionning (oh how I will love the absence of massive sweating)

Spent my entire salary already and yet haven’t managed to get a dinner table (or chairs)

Attended Seoul’s pride parade and pondered the feminist implications of the scantily clad, leather underwear and stockings wearing, heavy made-up women making out on the front float. Concluded that I needed to watch more korean porn before deciding how much of that is meant for the male gaze (also, go read that guy)

Learned to navigate my maze-like neighborhood, even when inebriated (useful!)

Had an allergic reaction to soju (freaky!)

Seen red fever take over the country as it supports its national football team (Korea Pight!)

Had a night picnic on top of Namsan park and discussed the possible end of the world via meterorite impact ( <3 dating a nerd)

Witness Wally get a big man-crush on his new friend (who plays D&D! And LARPs! And rock climbs! And is in the same weight category! And goes to awesome rock shows!)

Worked a lot, and it doesn’t look like it’s about to stop any time soon (got my two first sales all by myself, and it feels great!)

I searched the larges plant markets in the city (Gangnam Underground Shopping Center, Express Bus Terminal station, in case anyone is interested). No, we have no such thing, this doesn’t exist.
I walked to the Olympic Park, where I found an organic coop. No, we sell potted ivy and cacti. Or fresh sprouts, but already cut, ready to eat.
I asked other plant eaters. Oh yeah I’ve been looking for this kind of stuff for years, if you find some I’m definitely interested. Me? I have a deal with my cousin in Busan who owns an actual garden, I don’t think you can get the stuff in Seoul.

I got resigned to only owning non edible greens.

And then the last week of May came. And all of the sudden the Gangnam Underground Shopping Center, the supermarkets, the muffin shop down the street started filling up with potted herbs one after the other. Each time I thought it would be a unique opportunity and bought whatever I could carry back home. Two pots of basil. One of rosemary. Two of spearmint, one of “choco mint” (unknown until now, but it’s basically mint that smells of chocolate. The leaves tend to be darker and more purple than spearmint. Not sure what to do with it now, I hate After Eights).

On that Friday, an ajeosshi parked his truck at the foot of Namsan and unloaded an insane amount of herbs on the sidewalk of Itaewon. Lettuce, cilantro, lavender, weird thyme-orange hybrids, 3 feet tall laurels. Everything must go.

And after this climax, everything did go. Not a single potted spearmint left in town. Mine is chilling on the balcony, roots in water, fighting the mean heat of this season.

HOT!

When your broth is so thick with chili pepper paste that you cannot even see your chopsticks anymore… and you keep drinking it… Congratulations, you are a true Korean now!

That or your taste buds have already been burned beyond recognition.

Click here to view the embedded video.

But as far as I am concerned, I’ only 24 today.

Chinese chopsticks usually have a round cross section (or square at one side, going to round) and a blunt end.
Japanese chopsticks, on the other hand, have a thin pointed end.
Korean chopsticks are made of metal and are sometimes flat!

In all these places, knives are traditionally absent from the dinner table. Food comes pre-cut in chopstick-grabable portions, or you’ll need to tear it apart with them (omelettes or tofu, for example)
And contrary to a (less and less) frequent misconception in the West, chopsticks are not intended to push your food in your mouth. You actually grab your food and bring it from bowl to mouth, Yes, it is possible to eat slippery noodles or tiny blueberries or crumbly tofu with chopsticks.

Kids can use « training » chopsticks, or tie them together at one end with a little flexible plastic contraption. Thus turned into tongues, they are easier to use. However, even kindergarteners are usually capable of using them the adult way!

Training chopsticks!

Chopstick length varies by country, but also by gender. In Japan, chopstick stores will measure the length of your palm to fit your chopsticks perfectly.

Disposable chopsticks are widely used. They are becoming an increasing environmental problem – not so much through their production, as they are made from bamboo which grows like a weed, but because of the amount of garbage generated. It has become popular in some places to carry your own chopsticks with you, along with your reusable grocery bag and your reusable mug.

Chopstick etiquette: as a foreigner, you are expected to screw up – but you can still try and avoid the worst offenses.

Obviously, don’t play with your chopsticks, just like you wouldn’t play with cutlery. Don’t drum with them, point at people or food with them, use them to pull bowls towards you or use them to tie your hair…

It’s also rude to spear your food like you would with a fork, although some people do it for particularly tricky items.

For hygiene reasons, avoid using your own chopsticks in the communal dish. There are usually serving chopsticks, spoons or tongs dedicated to this. Otherwise, you can also choose to use the other end of your own pair (the end you don’t suck on) to transfer food from the main dish to your plate. Of course, this varies on the meal and the environment. You can be more relaxed for a a hope meal with family or friends.

Do not leave your chopsticks stuck vertically in a rice bowl, as this resembles a funeral rite. Similarly, in Japan, do not pass food from chopstick to chopstick – put it on a plate. This is often a reminder of Buddhist funeral rites: during a burial ceremony, the deceased is cremated and the remaining bones are passed around among the mourning crowd using chopsticks. So this would be comparable to your culturally clueless friend bringing a funeral crown as a thank you for having him over for dinner. Awkward.

You will most likely get congratulated for your chopstick skills. After a few years of eating in Asia, it gets annoying (yes, I haven’t starved to death yet, so evidently I can use chopsticks). Especially once you realize that the more of a mess you make, the more congratulations you receive. Then again this will happen for anything and everything, from your language skills (the crappier the more compliment-worthy apparently) to your ability at eating spicy food or icky stuff . Never mind that the same icky stuff is served in your home country too. No one believes me when I explain my family eats oysters for Christmas dinner.

So after two very busy first weeks, filled with work, appartment hunting, red tape and finding our marks in the many changes of our lives, we’re starting to get it together. To have an almost normal rythm, with weekends dedicated to social life and party! So, after tacos in the French village and a nice veggie barbecue on a rooftop with new friends and an adorable pug, Wally and I headed to Hongdae Saturday night.

Hongdae is short for Hongig University – all the numerous universities here are nicknamed something-dae, which could get confusing if you didn’t know. Hongik University is famous for its arts department and -maybe even more- for its party life.

This is Hongdae

I had been there once already with a backpacking friend, who had been blown away by what was for him a first experience of Asia. Lights, lights everywhere, music and a dense crowd flowing in the streets. It reminded me of many Tokyo night life districts – a mix of Shinjuku and Setagaya, maybe – with its own personality too.

As we get off the subway, the crowd is so dense we have a hard time climbing the stairs. The streets are covered in flyers – advertizing anything from new restaurants to clubs with names like “Luxury” to more alternative-sounding events – the “Green Plugged Music Festival” was a recent one. On the main streets, cafés and cocktail bars leave their windows wide open to compensate for the lack of terrasses. Students set up little stands in the middle of the streets where they sell hand made jewelry, badges, clothes. A few taxis try to make their way through the dense crowd with very little success.

Some bar accesses are perched so precariously on rooftops or facades that you wonder how no one has fallen off them yet. A big karaoke club (or “unique singing entertainment center”, as it’s marketed) has large windows allowing the street passers-by to watch what is going on in the rooms, and admire the retro wall paper.

Off the main streets, tiny live music bars display funky decoration. Street food carts and korean family restaurants seem to be full no matter what time it is. Tarot card readers set shop next to designers, and sometimes seem to be working together.

Our evening included a kitty bar (Wally called dibs on that story), live Korean rock, free money, flaming drinks, spicy food, and a long, tiring and smelly subway ride back home.

I really enjoy this neighborhood. It’s more energetic and uplifting than Anguk / Insadong. It’s more casual than Gangnam, where the other big party scene is – full of beautiful people with plenty of money, cosmetic surgery and luxury hotels. It’s more Korean (and for the most part, definitely less shady) than Itaewon. If all goes well, we’ll very soon have an appartment much closer to this district than we do now, and we’ll have many opportunities to explore its diversity.

No volcanoes could stop me this time – I am back in the mountainous land of the Morning Calm. Getting my life slowly back on track. Figuring out work and food and bus lines (the subway map is almost branded in my brain now, thank god). And where is that rooster that cries every morning outside my window, and why is he still alive in one of the world’s largest and most technologically advanced metropolis?

And what the hell is up with that weird language?

And how do people deal with switching from 2+ years of long distance relationship to spending 24 hours a day with your partner in a 20 square meter single room space – or are we the only ones nuts enough to attempt it?

And how do grownups deal with their finances anyway? I’m not starving, I don’t have to beg for bibimbap, but still – most days, I wonder where the hell my money went. But mostly, am I weird for having issues with the novelty of 1- earning a real salary and 2- supporting my work-visa-deprived partner? We’ve had all the time in the world to think about it and talk about it and make our decision about this situation, but still, it does not feel nice to hand him my wallet every time he wants to buy bread or a book.

But most important of all, does this country have shoes my size that do not look absolutely ridiculous?

It’s going to be one intense month of May.

Find out more here [french].

Via Prêt à Voyager