Year of the Horse, Year of the Slug

Be Active and Slow Down. Also another meaning that will reveal itself later... 

The road back to Gwangju from Hanbit's bus stop

After a big, positive and necessary personal writing spurt during my first year in Korea, the last half of 2013 saw things go into decline again. That's not to say that I've stopped writing altogether. In the fall, after a blazing hot and kind of sad summer, it finally occurred to me - hey, there's an awesome English-language magazine in Gwangju and why in the world am I not working for it? After a couple months of online volunteering, I finally did something that I thought would be a way of giving back to my school - I interviewed people and wrote an article about Hanbit High School for Gwangju News. In the process, I learned things about the beginning of the school and perspectives from students and teachers that I lacked before. This year, I've taken on an Online Editor role and writing more stories.

Fortunately, around the same time I decided to volunteer with Gwangju News I also discovered the Solidarity Stories blog, run by a handful of engaged expats. It took me until the New Year to get in touch with them, but as with many other things, I'm really glad I did and almost wish I had started sooner. It turns out that the English-language blog is an offshoot of the International Strategy Center, a Seoul-based organization that works to connect Korean social movements with struggles around the world. Every month, the international media team gathers in a location to cover a specific movement, event, group or person. The first meeting for me was March 8 International Women's Day weekend, where we watched an interactive play about the lives of three women workers and union activists from the 1970s. We also went out with the art collective and women after the performance, one of the more meaningful beer and soju-soaked nights out. I'm looking forward to growing deeper in Korean history through this group.

Damyang river

In fact, since my 3.5 week trip home to the States for New Year's and the better part of January, I've hit the ground running and though I've had plenty of opportunities to sit down and reflect, the time is flying faster than ever. There's nothing like coming straight from warm and sunny San Francisco to the quiet but persistent Korean snowfall. The snow melted soon enough though and the first weekend
back, under a quietly falling rain, I went to Gwangju City Hall and boarded the third Hope Bus to the troubled Gyeongsangnamdo Milyang county. Reconnecting and meeting new members of the Gwangju branch of KFEM (Korean Federation for Environmental Movement) and other activists was nice and marching from Milyang City Hall to Milyang Station for a rowdy stage of music, theater and speeches was powerful. BIG BONUS: running into a total of three Hanbit students coming from different places! Packing this in with a stay in one of the villages and a morning rally before heading straight back to Gwangju was a little overwhelming though, and I would like to spend more time in the countryside with the grandmothers. It will have to be another weekend, another time.

Other notable events of 2014 so far include an English-subtitled and director meet-and-greet screening of single-mom themed Korean documentary My Place with my French buddies in Seoul. This was a truly intense and unexpectedly full learning experience during the Lunar New Year Weekend. A short month later, I was meeting N & J again for mine and J's LASIK surgery, a decision that I came to much faster than I thought. I won't go into detail about that here, because for us the experience itself was not awesome though the results are so far, so pretty freaking good. For a great detailed description of LASIK in Korea, here as an account from a friend. 

Working as an English teacher in Korea has also brought with it the new phenomenon of living alone, also necessary for my mental health back at the beginning of 2012. Two years down the road, especially living in a one-room apartment with not much view of the outside, this solitary home life is officially feeling stifling. Though a strong introvert who craves ample alone time and private space, I've always had the duel personality of needing to be outside, active, exploring, interacting with others in meaningful ways. My summer 2010 sublet in the Cambridge Coop and the big Lille house are atmospheres that I had been striving towards, but that I willingly gave up when moving to Korea.

On the other hand, the Gwangju community and others are vibrant and I've made some great new friends. I just haven't been able to have it all - radical, intentional community-living AND a new cultural and language immersion experience with a stable job and easy travel opportunities. I reckon if I took real, concrete steps to bring an approximation of the first desire into my Korean life, things could be really wonderful. I sometimes feel that I am living a double life - half mundane and half exciting and enriching, but not always a good mixed balance.

Students enjoying Indian/Nepali food for the first time

My greatest accomplishment, which tends to overshadow shortcomings, is improving my attitude to teaching and building strong relationships with my students and coworkers. Despite the hustle and bustle and the tired feeling by the end of the day, I can honestly say I look forward to going to work in the morning. Korean teenagers are maybe my most favorite people here and I love every little joke in the hallway, every time I teach them something totally new in class (like the successful and fun Couchsurfing project that I'm continuing with this year's freshmen) and every time I can have a meaningful conversation about their frustrations, hopes and dreams.

In this regard, I've come a long way from my lackluster French classrooms, which I can hardly remember now - they were that boring, I think. Admittedly, one of the biggest differences is that I rely heavily on the PowerPoint presentations and Internet downloads in my Korean English classes. If I didn't have technology, could I still teach an effective class? And when I don't have a coteacher, am I still able to keep my students understanding and engaging with the content? All these are questions that I mull over a lot more deeply than I ever did in the past and it makes me feel that if nothing else - I am doing my job right. I told myself this was the most important thing and I have achieved that measure of success.

Jeonju guesthouse with student

If I had more time and focus, I would love to do a tour of alternative schools and other education centers in Korea. Interest is certainly growing, and I know like-minded Koreans are undertaking portraits of the different schools. Whether or not foreigners are doing the same, I don't know.

As for my Korean language skills, I think they have grown considerably over 2 years, especially considering I started from zero. I'm still lacking a systematic study format, though I've been blessed with a handful of patient coworkers and activist acquaintances who have made a world of difference in my conversational speaking and understanding. I am steadily writing Korean instant and Facebook messages and I'm now haltingly starting to read short articles and stories. Coming from France, where I already knew the language and could readily engage with locals, my impatience in not being able to do that in Korea seems to constantly waver between giving up and shutting down to being super motivated to learn. There is still a long, long way to go.

Jirisan annual 1st grade fall hike

While there are some English teachers who take the time to learn Korean beyond the basic survival level, it's not so common. One of the biggest obstacles is that while Koreans take great pride in their cultural heritage and enjoy sharing it with foreigners, native English speakers aren't particularly encouraged or expected to learn the language. It almost certainly has to come from a great amount of self-motivation. It's hard to explain exactly why this is the case. English is a highly-prized commodity and status symbol and many Koreans, even those who have studied and can speak the language at a competent level, will begin an interaction with "My English is not good." Part cultural modesty, part ineffective memorization-based language education, part socially-enforced competition and feelings of inadequacy and other things I don't fully understand, there are some complicated communication barriers at play. In Korean culture, context is everything and a person's presentation and background are melted into one. So we are usually foreigners and English teachers before we are anything else. Sometimes, just a simple "hello" and "thank you" is greeted with "you can speak Korean well!" When described, it might sound nice and easy, but after some time a certain amount of frustration sets in, which eventually gives way to quiet resignation.

Then there's the "getting healthy" aspect. The meditation and natural-living initiative is quickly changing from an awkward infatuation to an integrated part of my life. I drink lots of different herbal teas including persimmon, mulberry and mugwort loose leaf, do more yoga, cycling and steep hiking. Since moving here, I've actually found an increasing initiative to be more creative with my cooking, especially since living alone offers some extra free time. I've had nice results with new-to-me foods like perilla, acorn, millet and I've started making yogurt and even kombucha (it's in my Russian blood) for the first time. I go in-and-out of cooking phases, but with the new WWOOF Korea CSA box (discontinued) coming my way and more foodie buddies in town, there's no excuse not to get down and dirty in the kitchen.

Musangsa meditators

Over the Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) holiday in late September, I went on a full meditation retreat at Musangsa Temple International Zen Center in Gyerongsan Mountain near the industrial central city of Daejeon. I even managed to rope in a couple of friends, who came in unaware of the strict 3 a.m. - 9 p.m. 3.5 day regimen but were pleasantly surprised with the results. I really enjoyed the sitting and had a wonderful mentally-healthy month after that, before the dark months of November and December and end-of-the-school-year chaos gradually sucked out my energy. I can only imagine what this year's 10-day Vipassana planned summer retreat will bring me.

Not long after the retreat, a Gwangju friend introduced me to Reiki Energy Exchange, yet another New-Agey practice that I had heard about but not tried. I've gotten the "massage" several times now and while I can't speak definitively to the long-term effects, just the act of settling down on a Sunday night before the workweek and experiencing it is an intensive form of meditation on its own. I do think some unexamined issues have come up too. I'm happy to be learning about all kinds of mind-healing techniques which have improved my quality of life, though I have surprisingly yet to try acupuncture or other Asian traditional methods.

And what about growing my own food? That hasn't been too successful a venture, though I continue to volunteer on farms and at my school. Maybe this will be the year that a rooftop or community garden actually gets started. I have 2 consecutive days off, only at my school, so maybe I'm off on my bike to the market tomorrow to buy some new seeds and soil...the spring equinox has just passed and we are here. <3

Fall/winter kitchen inspirations

Keeping Warm and Bright in Korean Winter

As the days got colder and darker and as my students became increasingly more focused on their tests and absolutely nothing else, the weekends were still interesting. While the anti naval base peace march finally reached Seoul the first weekend of November, the friend I had made in the high school invited me on a very interesting trip. The remains of the Baekje dynasty, which ruled Korea before the Silla dynasty are headquartered in Chungcheonnamdo province. The towns of Gongju, Buyeo and Nonsan comprise the Baekje legacy and we spent one night and two days exploring. It was such a privilege to be a part of this group, my friend, her brother and his wife and their friends from university days in Chuncheon. It's not every day you get to experience a truly Korean tour like this and to be the odd foreigner, but in a good way. These are progressive teachers, mostly, so political discussions abounded and it's too bad my Korean is still not enough to keep up. Someday.

Persimmon season is a beautiful part of the fall in Korea, the orange fruit hanging from so many trees. Eating is actually less exciting than just seeing it everywhere. And the lush leafy colors, no less than New England. We saw the Baekje king's tomb and slept in a pension that used to be the army general's headquarters. The Gongju fortress is like a mini Great Wall of China.

I felt a lot of positive energy that weekend, like I was connecting with interesting adults and being treated with a lot of genuine curiosity and respect, as I think I stayed on my best behavior. I observed a lot of closeness among Korean couples and a group of friends - really beautiful and harmonious relationships, at least from the outside. No one asked me about my relationship status, which usually always happens, but I wonder if it isn't because my friend is an older single woman. Overall, it was lovely to actually learn more about Korean history in this kind of atmosphere.

Despite everything, I want to say that I straight up hate November. Some people may have a different view. It is always the most difficult month for me wherever I am. The sun sets so early, it's so cold I don't want to be outside and the atmosphere is just dark and dreary. The answer? More farming! I believe it was a record four weekends in a row of WWOOF Korea trips to break the monotony of endless deskwarming and early winter blues.

Temple in Buyeo

Nonsan pension party

Colorful Buyeo

Looking into Baekjae king's tomb

Ganghwado - this island off the coast of Incheon (where the airport is) is really cool and someday I want to explore more. We were (still) dressed in light shirts for a lively romp through the fields at Refuge Weekend Farm. Naturally farmed soybeans and cabbage the size of small children were slung in the afternoon sun. So many interesting islands in Korea, each with its own village community and culture, away from the big city. I love it. Back in Seoul, we mused on how best to expand WWOOF Korea without commercializing and I was once again filled with positive energy for the future.

The next two weeks, I was really feeling melancholy so experimenting with planting omija and grapes at the old Hansol Farm in Namyangju was a great detractor. Students came to interview us - more interest for WWOOF Korea and discussions on how to get more young Koreans involved. I also love the peaceful atmosphere in Namyangju, despite the dam and somewhat corny tourism surrounding the organic farming tourism. I look forward to the 2013 Slow Food Korea Conference, which will include guests from Oceania countries. Wonderful people involved in all these projects.

I enjoyed the first weekend of December the most, when a journalist from Hankyoreh - Korea's first progressive newspaper founded in the 1980s - came to work with and interview us at Hansol. It was a bright and shiny day, lots of new faces and new future ideas on the farm that day. And stoked to be in the news story (only in Korean). Farming with a journalist and talking about why I do this and why I like being physically active outside instead of sitting at a desk - that's the best of my life right now.

The rest of December and beginning of January was truly the coldest month ever and it was full of Gangwondo partying and end-of-year wrap-up, including a nice get together with teachers and a Korean friend in Chuncheon. Peaceful but fun and full of positive energy for the future it was, as I hope 2013 will be.

The year has started with a second trek down to Jeju Island - the topic of the next post.

The Korean Island of Peace and Another Summer's Passing By

Gangjeong village tagging on the naval base outer wall

 August 3 - 17

Jeju. Eight days. Not enough, but still full of magic. It's difficult to put into words, especially since it went by so fast. Maybe I should try to live there. Maybe not.

It was a solo trip. The original plan was to cycle from the ferry port in Jeju city to a (former) WWOOF host in Seogwipo, near Gangjeong village, and spend time at both. Surprisingly, this plan totally held out. Before leaving, I had some of the usual pessimism - I'm alone, how will I do it? What if my bike breaks down in the middle of nowhere? What if it rains? What if I can't find a place to sleep? None of it happened. I had a really nice, though rather hot, day and a half of cycling and reached all my destinations. I only wish I had spent more time along the way. Next time, Jeju. Wait for me!

The Jeju journey started at 6 a.m. on a Sunday at the Gohan-Sabuk bus terminal. It ended on a rainy Thursday morning back at school in Sabuk. Two days before travelling, I had caught a massive cold and had to teach the summer English camp. That was really unfortunate, as I just couldn't help how sick I was. By the next morning, though, I felt a lot better after kimchi, spicy bibimbap and sleep. It was the annual Sabuk Coal Festival and I was just tired of hearing about the casino and its fireworks - Gangwon Land this, Gangwon Land that. It was time to go.

From the beginning, things seemed to be going my way. It was a day of firsts. The bus ride to Gwangju lasted under 6 hours, less than I thought, and I hopped the first bus to Mokpo with my bike in tact. Mokpo was sweltering hot, but relaxing. I stayed the night with a couple from the Boston days and they were cat sitting for an adorable kitten. I miss interacting with animals very much, so that was enjoyable.

Bright and early the next day, with my bike all fixed up and my big gray Quechua backpack from Lille on my shoulders, I rode down the hill and through the streets to board the 9 a.m. big, slow ship at the Mokpo International Ferry Terminal. Jeju is about 80 km south of the Korean mainland, but somehow it takes 4.5 hours with the Sea Cruise from Mokpo.

The ferry ride was sunny and calm but mostly uneventful. My "seat" was basically just a somewhat crowded room with many Korean couples, families and older people. A young woman travelling alone is definitely not normal here - it reminded me of last year's Sofia roundtrip when I was the only non-Bulgarian, though this was still more comfortable than a bus seat. The young Korean guy who fixed up my bike in Mokpo was on the ferry with his buddy, but definitely not excited to see me. There were no drinking partners to be had, just quite a lot of family noise inside and wind outside. But a boat is still vastly better than a plane.

Once we were approaching the Jeju port, though, I started feeling excited/nervous/anxious. It was almost time to get off and start this real ride. Armed with only a colorful Korean map, two wheels, two bags, a cap, water, a camera and sunscreen - how was this actually going to happen? But it did.

Upon arrival, I successfully strapped the Quechua bag on my bike's back rack, checked the map and just started going straight from the ferry. It was mid-afternoon and definitely pretty hot, but I had plenty of water and energy that day. One of the beautiful things about Korean travel is the seriously impressive signage, nearly always in Hangeul and English. And even more beautiful, I found out that Jeju's bike paths and lanes are indeed stellar, at least the ones I rode all along the coast.

In Jeju City, along the seawall, I breathed a sigh of relief and happiness - I made the first step! I quickly made my way out of the city center and onwards south, ever south. There was a not-so-interesting beach along the way, so the only real stop I made for a while was the bike-themed cafe because it was just calling to me. Otherwise, I had about 4 good hours of daylight before I needed to find a place to crash so I took my time. A few cyclist groups passed me on the way, with their long sleeves and face scarves. I was the only one soaking up the sun.

Pretty soon, the sun was going down. As I stopped for a quick dinner at a random place a bit off the coastal road, I had the wherewithal to just call up a hostel a bit less than halfway between Jeju City and Seogwipo. Sure enough, there were rooms available and it was close to a beach. So after dinner, I was booking it further south to go a few more kilometers that evening and get an even better headstart for the following day. Unfortunately, going off the coastal road eventually got me lost in Hallim-eup, though it was a nice ride through town. It was dark by now, but still warm out. I was anxious to just get to the guesthouse and call it a night. Finally, I figured out how far east I was from the water and without any further problems, I made it to beautiful Hallim Beach where I was solicited for staying at a halmoni (grandmother's) minbak and given further instructions on to Geumneung. Twelve hours after leaving Mokpo that morning, I had found my first resting place on Jeju. The H3 Hostel is owned by a couple in their 30s with lovely little sons. I enjoyed staying up with a bit of makkeoli to chat with the lady and a guest from Hong Kong. The pillow I slept on was called "Ratasha," reminding me of another good Boston friend.

I wish I had spent more time at H3 and said a proper farewell but I was just crashing and needed to move on. The next morning, I said a hasty goodbye and started back on the road, as it was 9 a.m. and already heavy heat. I relaxed on Geumneung Beach for a bit, nearly empty and lovely. Then I continued on. I had been wanting to go to Gangjeong since I came to Korea. I wasn't sure if I would actually make it there on bike, but since I'd gotten such a good headstart on Monday, I decided I'd contact them and do my best to get there by sundown.

Morning on Geumneung Beach

And I succeeded. A full day of solitary riding along the windy but beautiful coastline, with a few twists and turns. I encountered a few more hills making my way down to Seogwipo, but nothing too unmanageable. I sat at a bench outside of a Catholic Church and snacked on fruits and nuts with a quiet halmoni for company. I rode back closer to the coast that would carry me a good chunk of the way and I saw volcanic remains and neolithic remains, around Gosan. After heavy wind and crazy crashing waves, I stopped for a raw fish, veggie and rice lunch at the small port town Moseulpo. Afterwards, I carried on until I finally reached Seogwipo. This is where things got tricky but ended up working out perfectly. To get to the road I needed, I ended up going through the fancy Jungmun resort area and asking around the big hotels. I was getting a bit frustrated because my contact person in the village was too busy to take my call and I wasn't sure I was on the right path. A detour to be sure, but it turns out it gave me just the stalling I needed.

I couldn't imagine where Gangjeong might be, so close to all these resorts, but sure enough the road finally appeared. As I rode through the center of the town, I started seeing people who could be none other than activists. They were all on their way somewhere and I stopped to ask directions and follow one of them who was also on a bike. It turned out that a dinner and evening celebration were being held at the public park not far from the naval base entrance and main protest site. So I arrived just in time to catch the post peace march reveling. And without even asking, I was told that I could have a bed for the night at the community center reserved for activists. Such good luck and timing. Although at one point it got a bit awkward as I was a new and unknown visitor, it was a fun and lively evening.

As often happens for me in activist spaces, I show up alone and uninvited with usually a bit of struggle to engage. And despite this being a very Korean, very traditional village atmosphere, it was an activist space nonetheless. I definitely had a few moments of "what am I doing here? I'm useless" thoughts. As the night went on though, I got to know another American woman who was staying there and working with the international outreach campaign. We drank with some village men, we talked about our experiences, we hung out around town. It was enriching and exactly what needed to happen.

The next day happened to be the one where Father Mun was knocked down by the hired police during the daily 11 a.m. Catholic mass. The situation quickly turned violent, as at least one person climbed onto a police van to demand an apology. Two people were arrested and police encircled them, beating back their comrades trying to break through. So I was able to see a slice of the oppression and frustration that Gangjeong activists face every day. It was amazing to see the strength of many young women, grandmothers, fishermen, the mayor and vice mayor of the village, children, three other Americans and many others. These people - especially the grandmothers! - are fearless in the face of these hired thugs, as they call them. They block the entrance for cement trucks, they climb onto caissons, they endure beatings, arrests, jail time, all for the sake of protecting what is theirs and what is a true treasure of Korea and the world.

Gangjeong village across from naval base entrance

I still had to meet my WWOOF host late that afternoon, though, so unfortunately I had to take off early. Riding out of town, heading a bit further east in Seogwipo, I was struck again by the contrast between Gangjeong and everything around it. It's really an enclave of sorts, almost like a microcosm of all the beauty and ills in Korean society. Something like that could maybe also be said about Sabuk.

It had been a gray day, so I hadn't bothered to put on sunscreen, but it turns out the one day I wasn't riding extensively was the day I looked like a tomato by the end. The sun came out around the golden hour and I was suddenly descending down a steep hill to the Seogwipo harbor. In this beautiful yet highly touristy developed place, I stopped for a bottle of makkeoli and directions to the hotel. I found it soon afterwards. Throwing my bike into the back of his big white truck, Mr. Kim and I were on the way back to his family's house at EM Jeju Farm, the place I would stay for the remainder of my Jeju journey.

Seogwipo Harbor

I was drained from the experience of the past few days and especially my head and heart were racing from Gangjeong. Nevertheless I did my best to keep up the energy. Mr. Kim's wife Oh Song Mi greeted us and we snapped a shot of my arrival on bike. The evening consisted of dinner, family introductions, my personal presentation and an explanation that it was too hot for working in the fruit greenhouses so we would be mostly painting the guesthouse instead. Fine by me.

EM Jeju days start early, especially in the hot summer. 6 or 7 a.m. is the norm and I was definitely still tired the next day but ready to take it on. We went to pick up some dragonfruit from Song Mi's old uncle, who was no doubt taken aback to see a white foreigner. The rest of the afternoon was spent at the EM Jeju storefront where my clumsy and fatigued self didn't contribute much help, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. After an overly spicy seafood lunch - kind of a thing on Jeju - we went to the Seogwipo open market - the biggest one I've seen in Korea so far. It was seriously enormous. I loved it. Back at the guesthouse, I had the rest of the afternoon to myself so I rode down around the harbor and coast - a route that I would quickly get to know over the course of a few days. It would be another early morning the next day for painting, so we tucked in early.

Seogwipo Market

I really enjoyed painting Friday morning, although I wasn't really very good at getting all the details on the wall. The music, the sun, beautiful Hallasan - the tallest mountain in Korea - to our left. What a lovely time. The artist student is a very talented person who draws many comics and it was a pleasure to work alongside her and the family. As so often happens on Jeju during this time, the rain poured down in the afternoon. After a nice lunch and a rest, we were back to painting but I took a break to visit two English teacher friends who happened to be staying not far from the village near the harbor. So back along the harbor road I went and we enjoyed a sunny evening. Riding back, I unfortunately missed a turn in the dark and was a bit late for dinner. Ugh. The start of my jerkdom.

Seogwipo Harbor performance

On Saturday, I had the day off to come back in the evening for the arrival of a young travelling musician and a community meeting where I would do a bit of English with the kids. I wanted to go to the river and/or walk an Olle course, but I was feeling groggy and after a nice ride down to Odelgae - the big penis rock in the middle of the water - I knew that I was back on my way to Gangjeong. Along the road, I bumped into another cycling tourist - a Belgian living with his family in Arizona, in Korea on a business trip. We had a coffee and snack break, talked about our different experiences and killed a bit of time. He was heading back towards Jungmun so we were heading down the same road. I had taken a different route when I left before, a longer one as it turned out. Everything was calm and quiet, when sure enough, seemingly out of nowhere, the wall of cops came into view. The Belgian and I parted ways and I spent a few hours of a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon back at Gangjeong.

The person I hung out with before was still there on the front lines. Almost immediately, she proposed a swim in the river and in we went. It was crazy to see the large family gathering with tubes and a picnic under the bridge with the police marching back and forth above us. What a stark, stark contrast. Back on dry land, I was able to speak with Father Mun, who surprised me with his good English. Everything was calm and positive energy, especially with the arrival of a band of musicians. Just before my departure, though, I filmed in the middle of another standoff with the arrival of several cement trucks. I couldn't believe the fearlessness of the grandmothers going after the younger male policemen. I couldn't believe how the police encircled us for our nonviolent protest. It was really another crazy experience, one that I won't forget anytime soon.

View from the roof of the Gangjeong community center

Security "caught off guard," and just relaxing like there's no problem

Back at EM Jeju, the travelling musician - calling himself the Jeju 거지 (goji) or "beggar/bum" - and his friend arrived. We enjoyed the rest of the evening - eating another lovely homecooked dinner, keeping the boys entertained and a ukulele performance by the goji himself. I went to bed as the two friends stayed up to study English together. Does Korea ever sleep?

Next day was another morning of painting, with worse music but extra good company. The two friends left after lunch in town and though I would have loved to join them in the river, I ended up magically seeing Geumneung Beach again in the late afternoon - packed with people dodging the sun and hardly swimming, but enjoying the water and beautiful view. A Korean family Sunday trip to the beach - I should have taken it as more of a privilege, especially since Song Mi and I went into the public shower afterwards. For some reason, probably due to fatigue and personal experience overload, I was in a grumpy mood that afternoon. I wanted to hang out with younger people, I still had Gangjeong on the brain and I was getting worn down with my inability to handle so much spicy seafood and cultural differences. But the beach was really nice after all.

The next day, Monday, would be my last full day on Jeju as I was taking the ferry back the next day. It was a real 9-5er, the day of making juice samples out of 300 kg of Jeju hanlabong oranges. We started at the house with washing the oranges, loaded them into the white truck and headed down to the processing center, apparently the biggest of its kind on Jeju. So instead of a day of work in the fields or the greenhouse, it was a day inside a metallic, sterile environment. It was OK, though, because I was able to talk more with Song Mi and see the whole juicing process from peeling, to peel grating, to juicing, to packaging and sterilizing the little juice packs. The whole family with the two boys pitched into work. After the day was done, I decided that I did want to cook the family a goodbye dinner, so we went to the store for ingredients. I served up Italian style pasta, salad and bread that we ate with chopsticks and a side of kimchi. It was a nice final evening though a bit stressful for me at the end. Tuesday morning, just before boarding the bus back to Jeju city, I finally saw the fruit greenhouses. The hanlabong, tangerine oranges and passion fruit were mostly green since they don't get ripe until winter. It began raining steadily as I was leaving. So I didn't have to cry - the sky could do it for me.

Goodbye smiles in the greenhouse

Quiet and reflective, I smoothly rode under the summer rain through the streets of Jeju city back to the ferry. This journey was coming to an end, but I knew there were so many others ahead of me, this was just a springboard. The ferry back to Mokpo was a police party and I wondered how many of them were the same hired thugs from Seoul and Gwangju that terrorized the people in Gangjeong. I was afraid that somehow someone would recognize me. I know they are people and just as much victims of the system, but I don't think I can ever again be comfortable around cops. The ferry ride seemed to end faster than the first one, though, and I was back to the hot night of Mokpo city, where it somehow took me two hours with a heavy pack to reach Moe's, the foreigner bar for the open mic night. During that time, I tried my best to enjoy the alternating excitement and quiet of my own thoughts and of the city at night. English teachers stayed up until almost 3, jamming in the street. I kind of missed this. The kitty was still there. The next day, Doug and I had a leisurely morning and made our way to the awesome Korean vegan buffet. I was drained and needing to sleep but I still had a full ride back to Gwangju and Gangwondo, which ended with me crashing at a jimjilbang in Wonju and taking a ridiculously expensive cab back to Sabuk on Thursday morning. The monsoons had started up again those past two days. Jeju had given me new energy, but the weather sapped it and my planning ability towards the end.

Back on the mainland, it was two days of rainy deskwarming followed by a less than impressive weekend in Seoul. Coming from the Jeju experience, I wondered why I was allowing myself to slip back into the same patterns. Never again, I told myself. And since then, it's gotten much better again. More adventures to recount in the next post.

When I was WWOOFing at Peliti, I don't remember anyone directly asking me about my dreams or goals. At least they didn't press me about it. I know that my mental health was already on the decline back then. At EM Jeju, though, I experienced a moment or two of discomfort, despite the language barrier. The farmer was seriously challenging me about what I was doing with my life. He expected me to have a presentation about myself and my dreams and I just didn't have it. It's probably a Korean father thing. Shouldn't take it personally. But it reminded me a little too much of my own father. Mr. Kim also did his presentation of his own life and work. It was great, but I'm not sure I'll ever actually match that journey of making your dreams come true.

Also, the language and culture barrier definitely got to me at times. Coming from the cycling road and Gangjeong, where my own and others' radical ideas could be normal and expected, I had a few moments of difficulty staying tolerant and not getting irritated.  In fact, it's not just about the radicalism. I often put myself in situations where, as the lone traveller, I am stared at, questioned, expected to be social, expected to respond or behave in a certain way. And as a deeply social yet deeply introverted person, I can get easily worn down by all this pressure. Being scrutinized on how and what I eat is a big stress factor. Obviously, food culture in Korea - similar to my family's Russian culture - is of utmost importance in social relations. And I felt bad making the family eat vegetarian with me, although I did my best to eat all that was offered in any case. I felt bad after many small moments - not being able to explain my dream, not wanting to do "English camp" for the kids, not wanting to finish some food, not wanting to go to the beach, not doing well with certain tasks that were given to me. I think, in the end, I did establish a positive connection with the people I met at EM Jeju. But it really hit home for me how I must learn the language and be far more relaxed. This is not my culture, I may never fully understand it, and if I'm volunteering to live in Korea and meet Koreans who speak hardly any English and have never been fully exposed to Western culture, I'm going to bump up against uncomfortable and possibly painful situations. But they will only be as uncomfortable or painful as I let them be. Making my own travel schedule with no one to help keep me balanced only adds to this strain.

Just before I left for Korea, in the Bay Area, a Korean-American told me that I just needed to pass the 4-month mark for depression and then things would get better. I've come to the conclusion that I occasionally still get intensely depressed living in Korea but it generally revolves around two things: 1) living alone in a small town and 2) hanging out with a whole group of almost all English teachers. The first one is not totally fixable and indeed, acknowledging it as a difficulty is totally normal and healthy. But taking advantage of the nice weather means going out and appreciating this small town, with its important Korean history. And it means I have my own space to do pretty much whatever the hell I want, when I want, how I want. The second one is easily fixable: admitting that it's not what I want and doing other things which make me happy.

I want to stay in Korea for a while and find more happiness.

Geumneung Beach sunset

Travelling Magic, WWOOF Korea and What is Activism?

After recounting some of last year's adventures, I now have a bit of travelling magic back in my life - a couple from Lille that I met through the social center have been staying with me this week in the middle of nowhere, Korea. After I came back to France from Greece last summer, Justine told me she was adopted from Korea and they would come visit me. And after a year they've finally made it. This past Saturday, they came from a few days in Seoul to meet me in Sokcho on the North Coast and we spent the night in Seoraksan National Park, exploring as much as we could of this beautiful natural place with its peaks and temples. From Sokcho, we happened to take the same bus as the director of a hagwon, private English academy, in Seoul (who later asked if I wanted to work for her!) and she helped us find a big cheap room in a nice motel in the park.

The next day was less successful because of the endless bus rides, the 2012 Danoje Festival lacking the atmosphere we were looking for, and their heavy luggage, but we still managed to make it to Gyempo Lake and Beach in Gangneung. We made it back to Sabuk late but not-too-late and crashed.

This week, two of my WWOOF Korea buddies came to Sabuk for a night, making it four  people in my apartment, and we had a really nice group outing to a lovely restaurant in Gohan where the owner does wood carvings. Pretty intense stuff for a weeknight in this neck of the woods.

So for about a month now, the weekends have been fresh, interesting, tiring, occasionally frustrating, but overall really vibrant and eye-opening. And definitely too short. In mid-May, the weekend before Buddha's birthday, with my bike, I hopped a ridiculously early Saturday morning bus to Seoul to go to the first English tour of the War and Women's Human Rights Museum in Hongdae. It was a lovely day and the tour was sobering but hugely informative and a chance to meet great activists and new people. That was definitely the turning point in me finally beginning to appreciate the different opportunities available in Korea. 

Afterwards, I gave myself no chance to rest as usual as I wandered around Hongdae looking for a good jimjilbang to crash at - I found out much later there is one right on the main street, but this one in a hidden corner worked just fine.

And travelling magic happened that night too. I met up with Gangwon teachers for the Lotus Lantern Festival, but joining them was a Finnish girl visiting Korea for a month. After a random big dinner, the festival and nice outside drinks, which produced a lot of walking and some ho-hum stereotypical Korean-foreigner interactions, me and the traveller ended up back in Hongdae. We chanced upon the last show of a white-boy band at Strange Fruit, one of the tiny, cozy underground bars. So the night ended on a good note and I made a new friend.

The Sunday, as most Sundays in Seoul are for me, was a case of wandering and river cycling but I did manage to check out the beautifully decorated Bongeumsa Temple.

And it only gets better from there...

Food, Food Everywhere 

Which brings me back to...WWOOF Korea! While deciding on whether or not I would go to Chuncheon's Mime Festival for Buddha's birthday weekend, the decision was made for me by WWOOF Korea posting a call for a group volunteering trip.

That was the weekend that brought me one of the most frustrating but also some of the best and future-giving Korean moments. I arrived in warm, quiet Bucheon neighborhood in Seoul at midnight on a Friday and was so happy I chose to stay at the WWOOF Korea Guesthouse lived in by a Japanese staff member and his girlfriend - they've since moved out and I can't wait to see the changes to the house. I was able to reminisce on WWOOF Greece, learn about WWOOF Japan and how the Korean chapter is and always becoming much more open, welcoming and full of group volunteering opportunities.

I did a write-up about this, my first experience, and a brief description here.

To wrap up, we were in the famous Boseong green tea region of Jeollanam-do, the southwestern province and we were helping a small(er) organic tea farmer weed his fields in preparation for summer tea harvesting. Drinks, laughter, and me being completely lost for lack of Korean. And the still cheap Yeolpo green tea & sea water spa with our nakedness overlooking the beach was a fabulous last touch. If only someone hadn't made the executive decision to drive back to Seoul from Boseong Sunday evening instead of Monday. It would have saved me the headache of arriving in the city at 3 a.m. after a long day of work and a 7-hour drive ending in rain, and finding that I had nowhere to stay after all. I had the option of either waiting at the bus terminal for the 6 a.m. bus to Sabuk or choosing a jimjilbang in Seoul. Honestly, I had a really hard time in the jimjilbang, I didn't sleep at all that night and felt like the positive vibes I had experienced were somehow less real. Like I had done something wrong. 

Thankfully, all that went away the next day as I saw WWOOF people again. Snacks in the WWOOF garden and shared curry by the river on no sleep. And the next two weekends brought lovely Sunday visits to Hansol, the organic chicken farm in Namyangju, the rapidly growing biggest organic farming region in Asia. When I first met the farmer Mr. Kim and a bunch of other WWOOF members and supporters on a Seoul Saturday, it was "Yu-gi", June 2nd, which also means "organic" in Korean. We learned, to our great surprise and delight, that Seoul has an island with a huge public organic garden and compost toilets! If only every city, especially every city with a river, had something like this - urban living would improve so much. Here's the link to more photos. 

How hypocritical of me is it to work on a chicken farm as a vegetarian? Well, they hardly ever slaughter the chickens, except as a special feast like on my first trip there, and the eggs are fresh and delicious. And the middle-aged Korean farmer is a badass, well-travelled, good English-speaking, even radical-minded guy who has built up the place for nearly 30 years. He leads around a 1,000 families in the area in the quest to be even more organic and sustainable. And he founded Slow Food Korea , a short ride from the farm in the same area. I have yet to go there, but it's next on my list as I keep exploring. In two weeks, there will be a compost toilet painting party. I can't wait.

What is Activism? 

I ask myself this question nearly every day and nearly every day, the definition keeps changing - expanding, contracting, becoming fuzzier or clearer depending on the mood.

To be an activist, do you have to be always active? To wave signs? To shout? To smash bank windows? To chain yourself to trees? To occupy the college campus? To attend meetings? To bomb cars? To rescue animals from fur farms? To never drive? To tag public ads? To do street theater? To play in a folk punk band? To read or report for independent media? To ride a bike to work? To eat vegan? To get most of your food from dumpsters? To wash your clothes with soap and water? To wear certain kinds of clothes? To hitchhike instead of taking the bus or train? To garden in your backyard? To keep guns? To protest guns? To befriend people from many different backgrounds? To read political literature? To compost? To take cold showers? To reject religion? To volunteer at the infoshop? To organize shows at the social center? To talk a lot against all the -isms that could possibly come to mind?

Summer roses on a Seoul bike path

It can be those things and a whole lot more. Or it could be none of them. It could be just sitting quietly in nature with a good novel. It could be spending a lot of time with your family. It could be cooking dinner for your housemates. It could be being the best teacher you can be. It could be helping your neighborhood plant trees. It could be playing basketball with your students. It could be smiling at everyone you see on the street. Or only smiling when you truly feel it.

I'm thinking about this now in particular as I finally reach the point where I'm positively processing my time in Europe, all the people I met, all the things I learned. When I was first coming to Korea, my biggest apprehension was definitely how I would go about finding an activist community. I was evenly torn between that and finding quiet, natural places to spend my time. It turns out that I want both. My time with WWOOF here so far has been the most inspiring time and I can see it branching out in all kinds of amazing and more eye-opening directions. And because I feel happy when I do it, I can radiate positive energy to others. Unlike so many other things that I've taken part in, which were fun but often felt more like I should do this because if I don't I'm not living up to my values. 

Having visitors from the past, melting with the present and influencing the future is really exactly what I need at this time. 2012 is half gone, drama-free and I've lived to be a quarter of a century old now. I - and I hope everyone I know - am becoming more and more of the activist and person I want to be, day by day.

Monsoon beginning, Sabuk

Money & Appearance

Jeongseon Station at sunset
A peaceful spot on the Jeongseon "Sky Walk"

Pictures stand in contrast to topic.

According to one of my Korean coteachers, a vegan and very alternative-minded woman, this is all that many people care about in modern Korea. Money and appearance. Even some of our high school students, she says, dream about nothing but making a killing one day. A fellow teacher in a nearby town says she notices a lot of mixed-race students at her elementary school. This is because, despite a lot of racism and xenophobia towards even other "darker" Asians, a growing number of Korean men look for wives in Southeast Asia. Though complicated, the trend stems partially from the fact that many Korean women wouldn't be caught dead marrying a poor man, especially poor farmers in our supposedly redneck Gangwon province, so some men have little choice.

Money and appearance. Two values generally associated with Western capitalist culture. When it comes to money, South Korea has literally catapulted from near-poverty to great wealth and rapid innovation within the last 30 years. The social changes have been just as rapid and hard to grasp. Co-teach agreed with my observation that the shift to extreme materialism is fast and frightening. In many ways, this country is surpassing the U.S. and other highly developed places in modern advances. Yet, at the social level, the general rules seem to be stuck in something akin to conservative 1950s America - or rather, traditional Korea. Understandably, even younger-generation Koreans haven't quite figured out how, why, or if to make the transition to a modern society, whatever that even means. It seems that "progress" without the nuanced cultural filter of the West amounts to a pure obsession with looks and possessions.

Regarding appearance, this is one of the few countries where employers seem to care more about how you look in your resume photo - a non-existent requirement in the U.S. - than what your references say about you. If they're near a mirror, Korean females and males alike will have a thorough touch-up. Despite more lax rules for foreigners, it does make you feel self-conscious sometimes. I shouldn't care at all, because the people I get along with most - like the alternative coteacher - care about my character more than anything. Seriously, though, I thought that the U.S. was the height of unhealthy beauty standards. But in South Korea, plastic surgery is common, acceptable and encouraged, even among teens. One of my high school students got the "double eyelid" procedure as a gift over winter break. An interesting discussion of plastic surgery and body image in Korea, from another foreign teacher's perspective, can be found here. I could go on and on about similar reflections, but since I'm not a part of this culture, I only know things from second-hand sources, reading and observing. Reading too many K-blogs during my free time at school, that's for sure.

 In other news...

... it's the 3rd day of April and this is the heaviest snowstorm I've seen since I've come to Korea.  Hoping against hope that this is Mother Nature's last winter scream before ascending into lush green beauty. I did throw a snowball at some kids, though, so it can be good for something.

I'm coming down with something and it's put a strain on my mood as well. To cure the persisting - though not delibitating - winter and "homesick" blues, I've really taken to Taekwondo, online yoga and I just ordered an awesome-looking new bike from online shopping paradise GMarket.

Today in class, I had a particularly funny moment. Since coteacher helped propel me into the Korean 21st century with an inexpensive new smart phone, I decided to plan my lessons around cell phones this week. So I was working on a "scramble" where the students had to listen to eight lines of dialogue, each assigned with a digit from my phone number. The goal was to see who would be the first person to call me, but instead of a student, the first call I got was a telemarketer! I didn't realize this until it became awkwardly apparent that it wasn't one of the students.  (Seriously, Korea, what's up with the mass marketing through texts, calls, Cool Messenger (school IM) pop-ups and everything.)

Solitude, the 11th Commandment

More coal mining history, Sabuk Station

This weekend sort of came and went, without much interaction. I was feeling especially sick and tired, but also restless so despite the annoying wind, I took a solo trek out to Jeongseon. Originally meaning to meet up with a teacher and check out the bike shop, I ended up climbing a part of the Sky Walk, a mini hike up a part of Mt. Gariwang. I was seeking peace and there weren't that many hikers on my trail, but on the train ride back, there was a whole post-hiking party partying it away. Koreans take their outdoor sports seriously, dressing to the nines and soju-ing it up for the occasion. When I get around to doing a real hike in nicer weather, I'll have to document.

Almost the same view from my balcony window, within 2 days.