Stories from the road
Mar. 19th, 2006 12:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pecuniumGoogle is, of course, loading as google.co.kr. To get it in English I had to switch it to co.uk (I might have tried for Ireland, but I don't know the relevant country code, nor if Google has a specific set for them).
I also note that someone else is complaining that Lj has changed the layout. I hate this center gutter style, and will have to see if that's a local probelem, or something I need to learn how to change. Feh.
This morning I had an adventure.
Woke up, discovered the Sunday hours for the mess hall are all screwed up (and they will change on Monday, and then again on Friday, all becase of the excercise I'm here for). No biggie. I can wait a couple of hours, or eat some junk food/leftover pizza (the menu last night was less than thrilling, and so I bought a pie from Pizza Hut, in the snack bar on post. Tonight I may go bowling, I may watch the movie I rented (otherwise I'll have to re-rent)
The sun was out, so grabbing the camera didn't seem quite so pointless, and out the gate I went; no language, save a couple of polite noises (hello/goodbye, and thank you). Hit a coffee machine. They are standing outside, 300-400 won gets a 4oz cup of instant coffee.(figure, for convenience, that 1,000 won = $1.00 US, it's close enough. I got 947.3 at the airport, and the shops just off post are offering 965). The one on the far left is usually with milk and sugar, so even without english (not on all of them, depends on the foot traffic) I can usually find what I want. I learned this trick my first trip, some six years ago. Coffee has a national style. The Korean stuff has a dusty/nutty note (this is for instant, I can't say as I've had brewed, nor seen beans for sale in a shop). The stuff in Ukraine is a trifle bitter, with sour notes (again, it's some form of Nescafé).
Fortified against the weather (it was about 40F) I wandered alone, drifting as a cloud (well not really, it was go left, or right, and some ways to an intersection) I stopped in a couple of shops. Odd little air-soft guns for 8,000 won. They look just like real pistols. One loads them by compressing the spring, which is done just as one would load a real pistol, by racking the slide. Single shot, with a clip. Haven't seen a toy like that in the states in more than a decade. I was hoping (for no reason I can explain) they were actually a Japanese model-maker's product. Said model-maker used to sell 1:1 models (exact in every detail) of various guns. Because I don't want to spend the sums required for a tommy-gun, or even for a decent replica in steel (which would have the heft; but need to not be cheap, or it would strike me as wretched), but no, these are something I have no interest in (no,killslowly I can't put one in my bag to bring back, the hassles would be huge, my bags would be tossed... otherwise I'd have just surprised you).
A grocery provided a couple of presents for Maia's sister. I'll have to get one of the Korean linguists here to tell me if it has any wheat products, and then I'll know if I can get some more for other friends who aren't vegetarians, but are intolerant of gluten.
Went maybe three-quarters of a mile, took some pictures along the way (the streets aren't very photogenic, and the scope of things is hard to get. If one has seen M*A*S*H, Korea looks much as the surroundings did, save for being more angular, and with some form of fir/cypress where there were oaks in the series. Right now the tops of the hills are spare, as the leafy trees which line them are bare, and so one can see them, as of they had a flat-topped hair-cut).
On my way back I saw a staircase I decided to take a picture of, and the sign next to it was, "Sŏnjŏn Catholic Church. I went up the stairs. I heard the Mass. I saw a magpie. I saw a staircase. I looked in on the Mass. Lots of women with lace scarves on their heads. A priest in vestments. Language I didn't understand, performing rituals I did. It was as frustrating as when I looked in on Mass in Franfurt am Main. The greatest advantage to the Latin Mass was that people could be lost the same way, no matter where they went. With a bit of study, they wouldn't be lost anywhere. Oh well.
I went to the staircase and took pictures of the magpies. While I waited (mostly in the shade) I saw the rituals which go alongside the Mass everywhere. The people setting up the collation, the kids who are done with catechism playing on the swings (because the evidence was for a parish school existing). I heard someone say hello (well, it was annongsay-yo) and offering me a cup of coffee. It made my morning. I could hear the organ, and the familiar harmonies, and the glory of the singing; because I was far enough away that there were no words, just the joy of voice. I took more pictures. I waited, while the birds came and went (lots of photography is about being patient).
I heard someone behind me again. I was being asked to come in and eat. It was moving. Really. Maybe it was because I speak no Korean. Maybe it was because I was without someone playing native guide, and so dependent on the kindness of strangers, maybe it was just that I was happy (and I was, because I like Mass, it moves me, and I was recalling the liturgy as I heard the refrains. I could sing along with the amens, and guess at how things were progressing). I was put in mind of, "I was a stranger, and you took me in," which is always present in my mind as Easter rolls around, because Passover comes with Easter.
So I accepted (to refuse hospitality so earnestly offered, would be rude beyond measure. It would, in fact, be a sin). Oddly enough I didn't feel as out of place as I might had I been stateside. I was shown a place to put my things, and looked back to see the familiar line of those going forward to partake of Communion. I made a bow, and left, to join the line, having made my acts of contrition earlier, as I watched the birds, and listened to the music.
I came back to be seated with some young adults. A middle-schooler who spoke some English, and her friends. Soup (clear, with fatty slices of beef, and onions; a dish of salt for it) and a bowl of rice. Everything else was communal (and I was being treated as a special guest, because the rest of the table was given larger bowls of rice, which they spooned out of, into the soup. Egg bound seafood, some sort or layered vegetable terrine, green-beans with sesame seeds and tiny shrimp (in the shell) two kinds of pepper paste, strawberries (very good strawberries, the keepers of the hot-house did well) a kumquat looking thing with more pith {which wasn't bitter) and mushier flesh, which wasn't sour. It was obviously citrus) a pickled spinach (which I have seen at every Korean meal I have ever eaten) and, of course, kimchee. The ritual, with the kimchee, was to take the leaves which were too large, and tear them; with help from someone else's chopsticks (which were steel).
It was wonderful. We talked (as much as we could; which was more than one might think) and, as is the way of such things, it seems I spoke with everyone who managed to get something across, even if it was the work of someone else to make it plain. The reason for the feast was to celebrate the priest's birthday. They know I come from California, and I know one of them has a cousin (her father's sister's daughter) who lives there, and that the one who spoke English spent a month with her grandmother in Washington D.C.
I was asked to take pictures of my tablemates (by them) and when I get them out of the camera, I will e-mail them.
I don't think I could have had a better morning.
I also note that someone else is complaining that Lj has changed the layout. I hate this center gutter style, and will have to see if that's a local probelem, or something I need to learn how to change. Feh.
This morning I had an adventure.
Woke up, discovered the Sunday hours for the mess hall are all screwed up (and they will change on Monday, and then again on Friday, all becase of the excercise I'm here for). No biggie. I can wait a couple of hours, or eat some junk food/leftover pizza (the menu last night was less than thrilling, and so I bought a pie from Pizza Hut, in the snack bar on post. Tonight I may go bowling, I may watch the movie I rented (otherwise I'll have to re-rent)
The sun was out, so grabbing the camera didn't seem quite so pointless, and out the gate I went; no language, save a couple of polite noises (hello/goodbye, and thank you). Hit a coffee machine. They are standing outside, 300-400 won gets a 4oz cup of instant coffee.(figure, for convenience, that 1,000 won = $1.00 US, it's close enough. I got 947.3 at the airport, and the shops just off post are offering 965). The one on the far left is usually with milk and sugar, so even without english (not on all of them, depends on the foot traffic) I can usually find what I want. I learned this trick my first trip, some six years ago. Coffee has a national style. The Korean stuff has a dusty/nutty note (this is for instant, I can't say as I've had brewed, nor seen beans for sale in a shop). The stuff in Ukraine is a trifle bitter, with sour notes (again, it's some form of Nescafé).
Fortified against the weather (it was about 40F) I wandered alone, drifting as a cloud (well not really, it was go left, or right, and some ways to an intersection) I stopped in a couple of shops. Odd little air-soft guns for 8,000 won. They look just like real pistols. One loads them by compressing the spring, which is done just as one would load a real pistol, by racking the slide. Single shot, with a clip. Haven't seen a toy like that in the states in more than a decade. I was hoping (for no reason I can explain) they were actually a Japanese model-maker's product. Said model-maker used to sell 1:1 models (exact in every detail) of various guns. Because I don't want to spend the sums required for a tommy-gun, or even for a decent replica in steel (which would have the heft; but need to not be cheap, or it would strike me as wretched), but no, these are something I have no interest in (no,
killslowly I can't put one in my bag to bring back, the hassles would be huge, my bags would be tossed... otherwise I'd have just surprised you).A grocery provided a couple of presents for Maia's sister. I'll have to get one of the Korean linguists here to tell me if it has any wheat products, and then I'll know if I can get some more for other friends who aren't vegetarians, but are intolerant of gluten.
Went maybe three-quarters of a mile, took some pictures along the way (the streets aren't very photogenic, and the scope of things is hard to get. If one has seen M*A*S*H, Korea looks much as the surroundings did, save for being more angular, and with some form of fir/cypress where there were oaks in the series. Right now the tops of the hills are spare, as the leafy trees which line them are bare, and so one can see them, as of they had a flat-topped hair-cut).
On my way back I saw a staircase I decided to take a picture of, and the sign next to it was, "Sŏnjŏn Catholic Church. I went up the stairs. I heard the Mass. I saw a magpie. I saw a staircase. I looked in on the Mass. Lots of women with lace scarves on their heads. A priest in vestments. Language I didn't understand, performing rituals I did. It was as frustrating as when I looked in on Mass in Franfurt am Main. The greatest advantage to the Latin Mass was that people could be lost the same way, no matter where they went. With a bit of study, they wouldn't be lost anywhere. Oh well.
I went to the staircase and took pictures of the magpies. While I waited (mostly in the shade) I saw the rituals which go alongside the Mass everywhere. The people setting up the collation, the kids who are done with catechism playing on the swings (because the evidence was for a parish school existing). I heard someone say hello (well, it was annongsay-yo) and offering me a cup of coffee. It made my morning. I could hear the organ, and the familiar harmonies, and the glory of the singing; because I was far enough away that there were no words, just the joy of voice. I took more pictures. I waited, while the birds came and went (lots of photography is about being patient).
I heard someone behind me again. I was being asked to come in and eat. It was moving. Really. Maybe it was because I speak no Korean. Maybe it was because I was without someone playing native guide, and so dependent on the kindness of strangers, maybe it was just that I was happy (and I was, because I like Mass, it moves me, and I was recalling the liturgy as I heard the refrains. I could sing along with the amens, and guess at how things were progressing). I was put in mind of, "I was a stranger, and you took me in," which is always present in my mind as Easter rolls around, because Passover comes with Easter.
So I accepted (to refuse hospitality so earnestly offered, would be rude beyond measure. It would, in fact, be a sin). Oddly enough I didn't feel as out of place as I might had I been stateside. I was shown a place to put my things, and looked back to see the familiar line of those going forward to partake of Communion. I made a bow, and left, to join the line, having made my acts of contrition earlier, as I watched the birds, and listened to the music.
I came back to be seated with some young adults. A middle-schooler who spoke some English, and her friends. Soup (clear, with fatty slices of beef, and onions; a dish of salt for it) and a bowl of rice. Everything else was communal (and I was being treated as a special guest, because the rest of the table was given larger bowls of rice, which they spooned out of, into the soup. Egg bound seafood, some sort or layered vegetable terrine, green-beans with sesame seeds and tiny shrimp (in the shell) two kinds of pepper paste, strawberries (very good strawberries, the keepers of the hot-house did well) a kumquat looking thing with more pith {which wasn't bitter) and mushier flesh, which wasn't sour. It was obviously citrus) a pickled spinach (which I have seen at every Korean meal I have ever eaten) and, of course, kimchee. The ritual, with the kimchee, was to take the leaves which were too large, and tear them; with help from someone else's chopsticks (which were steel).
It was wonderful. We talked (as much as we could; which was more than one might think) and, as is the way of such things, it seems I spoke with everyone who managed to get something across, even if it was the work of someone else to make it plain. The reason for the feast was to celebrate the priest's birthday. They know I come from California, and I know one of them has a cousin (her father's sister's daughter) who lives there, and that the one who spoke English spent a month with her grandmother in Washington D.C.
I was asked to take pictures of my tablemates (by them) and when I get them out of the camera, I will e-mail them.
I don't think I could have had a better morning.
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Google Eire
Date: 2006-03-19 09:25 am (UTC)http://www.google.ie/
Yes, it appears to exist separately. No idea if they censor out unflattering coverage of the IRA. :)
Re: Google Eire
Date: 2006-03-19 09:27 am (UTC)http://www.google.au/ and http://www.google.nz/ (Australia and New Zealand) do not.
Re: Google Eire
Date: 2006-03-19 09:29 am (UTC)http://www.google.com.au/
however --
http://www.google.co.nz/
Go figure.
Re: Google Eire
Date: 2006-03-19 10:09 am (UTC)TK
Re: Google Eire
Date: 2006-03-19 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 02:49 pm (UTC)I would also add that Terry is one of those people that I would invite into my home too. He's that kind of guy. :) Being Greek, I appreciate someone who knows it really IS a sin to refuse ernest hospitality!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 07:42 pm (UTC)International versions of Google News available in:
Argentina - Australia - België - Belgique - Brasil - Canada English - Canada Français - Chile - Colombia - Cuba - Deutschland - España - Estados Unidos - France - India - Ireland - Italia - México - Nederland - New Zealand - Österreich - Perú - Portugal - Schweiz - South Africa - Suisse - U.K. - U.S. - Venezuela - 中国版 (China) - 香港版 (Hong Kong) - 日本 (Japan) - 한국 (Korea) - 台灣版 (Taiwan) - ישראל (Israel)
no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-19 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-20 05:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-20 11:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 08:03 am (UTC)The word for Buckwheat is 메밀 (maemil). One food you may be interested in are some very good buckwheat noodles, 메밀국수 (maemil guksu). You should be able to pick them up in most grocers. You can ask, or write down "Ohdi maemil guksu" (어다 메밀국수), "where are the Buckwheat noodles." They are usually served cold, similar to 냉면 (naengmyeon). If there are other food products that you're looking for the names for, I can try to find out the name for you.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-21 09:46 am (UTC)Thanks for the offer, and were I in Uijongbu, Yongsan, etc., I'd call. As it is, I can draft a specialist or two and make such errands as require language.
TK