8 Reasons Why Jihachul Beats D.C. Metro (and 2 Reasons it Doesn’t)

Don’t get me wrong, I love D.C.’s Metro (sometimes), but I have to admit that Seoul’s subway system, Jihachul, kicks D.C. Metro’s butt overall. Here’s why:

1. Stations are cleaner and brighter

Ever get the feeling you’re in a bomb shelter, but really it’s just Gallery Place? Well, it's true that Jihachul does have survival gear and can serve as an actual bomb shelter in case the North attacks (see right), but the stations are well-lit, clean and happy. In fact, it’s possible to forget you’re even a few stories below ground in a subway station here—something Metro’s dirty, concrete walls would never let you forget.

2. Glass blocking the platform from the train

I hated standing at the little yellow bumpy rubber line, feeling the rush of wind as the train whooshed into a Metro station. Maybe I’m morbid, but the thought of getting hit or falling on the tracks was often on my mind. And sadly, that happened more often than it should have, whether by accident or intent. Easy solution? Glass with sliding doors! I can stand right up by Jihachul's door with no fear.

3. Trains come more frequently, and I’ve never seen delays

At first Joe and I just thought we were lucky as we explored Seoul, hitting the subways at just the right moment to hop on the next train. We never waited more than 3 or 4 minutes. But I take the subway to and from school every weekday and I’ve never stood waiting more than 5 minutes, even at 1 in the afternoon. In D.C., I often waited 10 minutes during rush hour for an Orange Line train at Foggy Bottom. And don’t get me started on those off-hour waits!

As for delays, I won’t pour salt on continuously open wounds for you D.C. dwellers.

4. Stations aren’t nearly as crowded

Ahhh, the Red Line in downtown D.C. Where you can frequently lose yourself in a crowd of suits and watch two trains go by before getting close enough to squeeze onto one. (These pictures are on the Blue Line before Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert's Rally 4 Sanity And/Or Fear in 2010, but I've seen the red line stations look like this, and it isn't rare.)

Here in Seoul? Yes, there are a lot of people in the mornings, but I’ve never seen a sea quite as huge as Gallery Place during a weekday rush hour.

5. Built in Wi-Fi

This needs no explanation, but I will say that people watch TV on their smart phones on the subway. Yes, TV.

6. More routes and options to get from A to B

Check out this map:

It looks confusing, but once you get the hang of it, it is almost as simple as D.C.’s Metro, with A TON more routes and options. Even when/if D.C. gets the Silver Line and Purple Line, Jihachul will still be more convenient.

7. Respect for the old/injured/pregnant people

Yes, on D.C.’s Metro, people will often get up for injured or pregnant people or women with children, but Jihachul actually has a 6-seat section that no one sits in unless they are old, injured or pregnant. And this section is often full, which brings me to my next point:

8. Old people actually RIDE the subway

Have you ever seen an old person on D.C.’s metro? OK, I’m sure it happens, but here, Jihachul is the way to go—for all demographics, it seems. It's the way avoid the traffic in a city that holds about half of the nation’s population, and I always see old people on the trains during rush hour and during the off hours.

But Jihachul isn’t quite perfect. Here’s where the system scores lower than D.C. Metro:

1. Stairs. Stairs, stairs, stairs.

There are a lot of escalators and some elevators in Jihachul stations, but I only know of one that allows riders to avoid stairs altogether. In D.C., the escalators break often and take ages to fix, but if stairs are really hard for a rider, I believe there’s always an elevator, albeit a slow one with a long line.

But right now, man, I would wait in that line!

I talked in a previous blog about how difficult stairs are now that my pregnant body apparently contains extra blood and less oxygen than normal. Seriously, I swim hard core and do Zumba, but steep stairs leave me out of breath with Jell-O legs. I imagine the aforementioned old and injured people share my struggle.

2. It doesn’t go where I want it to go

What? Didn’t I just say Jihachul has so many options of where to go and routes to take? Ok, yes, true. But it doesn’t stop at Eastern Market, where I can taste and buy fresh local fruits and veggies, or where I can visit my church and see lots of close friends. It doesn’t go to Woodley Park, where I can have a girls’ night with Tara and Kate. And it doesn’t go anywhere near the Jefferson Memorial at the tidal basin, where cherry blossoms have been blooming in the last couple weeks, and where Joe asked me to be his wife.

So, yes, Jihachul wins hands down in a side-by-side comparison, but you won’t catch me complaining about taking Metro when I get to visit home (at least not for the first couple days).

Check out each system's fan video below:

My Meeting with Obama (…and 200 of my closest neighbors)

I got to shake the president’s hand!!

Two weeks ago, President Barack Obama came to town to talk nuclear security at a summit of world leaders, and happily for us, his schedule included a few minutes with embassy staff and their families.

Ahead of time, some friends and I thought there would be about 500 to 800 people there (it's a big embassy), and maybe a few of us would actually get close enough to meet the guy. AND we would have to wait about two hours in a hotel ballroom for the pleasure.

But, sigh, how could we not show up since even that distance would be much closer than most of us have been—or would ever be—to the leader of the free world?

Once we were settled, though, about 200 people were in the room, and the rope line was very long. The crowd would only be about four to five people deep! Some people planted directly at the rope line right away for a good spot and stood there for hours, but Joe and I (for the sake of my easily-tired pregnant body) mostly sat in chairs at the back of the room until the time was close. A good spot wasn't worth killing my lower back and feet over!! So I assumed we would be watching more than participating.

The president was late (understandably, as he’d just flown in and had already been to the DMZ that morning). So we stood waiting the extra half hour, Hail to the Chief and other patriotic music blaring, presumably just to tease us.


I wondered: What must it be like to walk into a room of people knowing they’ve waited hours to see you?

I think I’d feel pressured to be amazing. Or maybe I’d let it go to my head.

Whatever the president felt, though, when he walked in, none of us seemed to remember the long wait.

Wow. The president of the United States of America! Right there! In Seoul! Political leanings aside, everyone cheered loudly enough to make the ambassador laugh. “See, they can be just as rowdy as the military,” he told the president.

And, oh, what an effect on the room.

We were all feeding off each other’s excitement, I’m sure, and I don’t get star struck easily, but President Obama really does have a presence. To me, he seemed important yet humble, regal yet all-around likeable. You have to admit, he really does look presidential.

Not to say I agree with all of Obama’s policies—or all of any politician’s policies—but one thing I love about our democracy is that different people with different viewpoints get a turn to lead the nation. That’s also why I get annoyed at hyper-partisan vitriol on both sides shouting that if the other side gets (or keeps) power, the country will fail. I think every American should want every president to succeed since that’s good for the country, even if it’s bad for a certain party.

And that’s why I think it’s pretty amazing to meet the president, regardless of political camp.



Obama shared a few words of encouragement and gratitude for the diplomats’ work building and maintaining relationships and for the family members’ sacrifice of living far from home and family and country. It was what you’d expect him to say to such a group, of course, but it was still encouraging to hear him say it.

And then came the fun part.





Flanked by Secret Service agents, he walked down the rope line, shaking hand after hand after hand and yet still looking people in the eye and saying a word or two when appropriate.

I was three people back, not expecting a handshake but happy to be close to the action.

Then he was right in front of me, and somehow a window appeared at the perfect time and the perfect spot for my arm. I reached out and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Good to see you,” he told me as he shook my hand.

I wanted to say something like: “I’m praying for you! I know you have a tough job!” but there really wasn’t time.

Joe, unfortunately, was right behind me (he’d let me go up closer, like a sweet husband) and didn’t get a shake. But it seems like most people did! Obama must have shaken 150 hands in the span of about 10 minutes, which is quite the skill—a prerequisite for being a politician, I’m sure.






On the bus ride home, the excitement was palpable:

“Did you shake his hand?!”

“Yes!”

“I did too!!”

Someone commented that the president’s 15 minutes with us had worked wonders for morale.

And it really did. It’s funny, but since we live here expressly to serve our country, meeting the president mattered to me more than I thought it would.

The Beginnings of a Social Life

When it rains, it pours. After a month of limited social engagement edging on boredom, I had something social to do every day this past week.

Before I get to that, though, here’s the most important Kim family news of the week:

Joe and I visited my new doctor and were told our baby is a boy! We are going to have a son!

<--That's me in a kimbap restaurant, impatiently waiting for our appointment time. Joe thinks my belly looks more preggers when I'm sitting...

During the ultrasound, I got to see my little guy move while at the same time feeling his little pokes and prods in my belly. Now that I know for sure what his movements are like, I’m feeling him move all the time. I’m sure in a few months he’ll start kicking my ribs and I’ll get over the excitement, but for now, I find my son’s movements comforting; I’m less paranoid over whether or not he’s still OK in there.

But back to my budding social life:

I had two coffee dates, one lunch date, one dinner date, and an entire afternoon with a group of people tutoring teenaged North Korean refugees.

The biggest treat was Joe’s dad passing through and taking us to a nice dinner. His visit was a comforting taste of home and family (and he brought along some helpful presents from my mother-in-law!).

Another day I met some young embassy interns for lunch, along with one of the Korean employees. I’ve become friends with the interns through embassy social events, but also because these ladies are my lifeline. If I have a question about anything or need help with anything, they are always ready and happy to assist—and they are also always up for a lunch date.

Their English is near-perfect (it has to be for them to work in the embassy), so it’s easy to hang out and chat, and I love learning more about Seoul and about Korean culture through their eyes.

While I was leaving the embassy, I saw a protestor holding this grammatically-wonderful sign (pictured right). "Stop taking effect of FTA against 99% people. People terminator of FTA." Occupy the Korea-U.S. Free Trade Agreement? Anyone?

That same day, I met an American reporter for coffee—someone I had emailed late last fall when I was still at U.S. News. We found that easy connection that exists between two people who are familiar with the same career, and it made me feel like an intelligent and interesting person again to talk about something I know. I may be a stay-at-home person at the moment, but I can discuss the state of journalism and tell what it’s like to be a political reporter in D.C.!

I’m still not sure if I’ll work at all while I’m here, but I enjoyed learning a bit about what it’s like to be an English-language reporter in Seoul. And she was really nice, so hopefully we will be friends.

I also got to meet one of my former students for coffee this week. For those who don’t know, I taught for a year at an international middle school in Malawi just after college. Some of my students were Korean, including one girl I always knew as Ann. What a joy to see that shy, sweet, smart eighth grader grow into a beautiful young woman—she’s now about to graduate college!

Wow, that makes me feel old.

Her English is far improved from seven years ago, and we had fun chatting and catching up. Crazy to think I was about her age when I was her teacher.

Saturday, I spent the afternoon with a group of embassy volunteers, most of whom I hadn’t yet met. It was nice to have the bus ride to get to know more embassy friends, but the best part of the day was meeting the North Korean refugees (no pictures for security reasons).

These young people, who have already escaped horrible conditions in an oppressive country and perhaps lost family members along the way, now face the struggle of trying to succeed in South Korea, where apparently they face a lot of prejudice

Also, in South Korea, education is central to a young person’s life. Because refugees have had to hide out to successfully escape, many lose a few years of education, and I’m not sure how much of the schooling they did receive in the north was focused on Communist writings from the “Dear Leaders.”

Learning English is one way the students are working to catch up and open doors to future job opportunities, and they actually volunteered their weekend time to come practice with us. I worked with a young woman who was terribly shy at first, but was walking arm-in-arm with me by the end. I’m not sure if my lackluster tutoring made a difference, but I was glad to help such a lovely girl even just a little bit.

The day really put things in perspective. Living in Seoul with all its first-world-city amenities, it’s hard to remember that just about 20 miles north lies the border to the most closed country in the world, a place where many people suffer from starvation or live in political prison camps.

It was amazing to see the resiliency of these young people who escaped all of that. They joyfully practiced English and ate Oreos with Americans—a people group North Koreans are taught to despise.

Thinking about their struggles is a good reminder for me to not stress too much about my own need to find my place and a community here. Really, I’ll be fine.

Karaoke and Chocolate

Five people + one small, dingy room + one rocking karaoke machine = wow.

So this is what a noraebong is!

After a delicious meal of empanadas at a Paraguayan place in Itaewon, the international quarter very close to base, we joined some fellow embassy people in one of Korea’s favorite pastimes: bad—make that AMAZING—singing.

This was clearly a low-scale noraebong. The pages of the songbooks were a little greasy, and the room looked unkempt. But there was music, and there were microphones, and we had so much fun we bought a second hour!

We sang Lady Gaga, Whitney Houston, Spice Girls, Journey, you name it.

The funny thing was, though, the videos behind the music were 100 percent inappropriate matches for the songs. For example, here (left) someone is singing “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” while prison inmates have a tense conversation.

We sang Gaga’s “Telephone” while a Korean girl sobbed in the background, black mascara streaking down her face. Men boxed, gangs fought, couples had romantic walks on the beach, and a girl threw rocks at a window, all while we sang Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” and Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

I had so much fun I didn't realize we'd actually stayed out until midnight! Rare for this pregnant lady!

Earlier in the weekend, in our continued effort to get to know Seoul in the wintry weather (it has been in the 20s lately), Joe and I visited the small street known as the French Quarter. I’m not sure the name in Korean, but there wasn’t anything really reminiscent of Paris there, oh, other than the apparently Irish-French restaurant O’Fête.

There was also a French school and the ubiquitous chain bakery Paris Baguette. Seeking warmth, we settled into an up-scale combination coffee house, wine shop, and flower store for some tea and cappuccino.

The street is lined with trees, though, so—just like many Seoul neighborhoods we’ve seen—I’m sure it’s prettier in the spring, summer, and fall.

After wandering a little more, we were ready for more indoor fun, so we taxied to check out Seoul Arts Center, another guide-book recommended spot.

Ten steps in the art center’s door and my chocolate sensor went off. From somewhere to the right of me in the huge open lobby, the warm smell of chocolate beckoned. (It was like driving by Oakdale's Hershey factory on a good day, for those who remember.)

“Chocolate,” I told Joe, pointing to a booth that looked like it sold truffles or some such delicious treat. “I definitely want some.”

So we walked over to the booth, which, it turns out, was selling kitch, including big Hershey chocolate jar candles, but not real chocolate. But there was an entire chocolate exhibit! AND it still smelled strongly of chocolate, so there HAD to be something to fulfill my craving. Right?

We walked over to the entrance, where two young men said we needed tickets. We went where they directed, bought the 10,000won tickets (a bit less than $10 each), and went back to the entrance. The young men said to Joe (rough translation): “You know this is for kids, right?”

Joe (rough translation): “Can you repeat that? I thought you just said this was for kids.”

“Yes, this is for kids.”

Joe told me, and I asked him to double check about the show advertised for 30 minutes from that moment.

“Yes, there is a show,” they told him (again, rough translation). “It’s a magic show for kids.”

We looked at each other and shrugged. What were we going to do, return our tickets? Plus, the scent of chocolate was getting stronger.

We went in anyway, donning our giant, metallic, Hershey-kiss-shaped necklace badges.

Three steps in and I turned to Joe. “Did we really just pay 20 bucks for this?”

“Yup.”

We laughed. There were Hershey candles surrounding one of the exhibits, creating that luscious smell that drew us in.


But we had fun, anyway, even though all of the explanations of chocolate’s history were in Korean. Funny enough, probably 30 percent of the people inside were young (maybe teenaged) couples, apparently having a romantic date.

And at least there was this chocolate world we got to play in!



We also got to make our own chocolates (but I’m pretty sure this was just melted Hershey bars… didn’t totally satisfy my craving).



The magic show was… well, yes, it was a magic show for kids.

We decided to explore the outside area of Seoul Arts Center—this place is HUGE! It has several galleries, a music hall, an opera house, and an outdoor stage on the roof. Wandering around, we saw a trail that went up and up the hill.

Joe told me one of the signs indicated a Buddhist temple, and I felt energized enough to brave the long staircase that went along the road (for some reason, pregnancy makes hills and stairs a big challenge for me these days). Along the way, we were awarded with gorgeous views of Seoul.




And at the top, this hand-crafted beauty:





I peeked inside at the colorful wonderland, with intricate designs on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, but I didn’t get any pictures since there were devotees in there praying to the statue of Buddha, or to their ancestors, or to whoever Buddhists pray to.


And, again, a nice view of my new city.

Back at home, Joe found me in the position pictured below. Yes, it is THAT cold. And my toes were frozen. But I have to say, this weekend's exploration and silliness were definitely worth braving the weather Joe says some Koreans aptly call "kal baram" ... knife wind.

Of Super Bowls and Shoving

On Saturday, I think I felt the baby move for the first time, and my belly decided to pop out. Literally, it looked just like it did in the picture from a few blog posts ago, and Saturday morning, I woke up and it looked like this (I'm 19 weeks along):

My last couple weeks on semi-house-arrest have been filled with trying new recipes, taking care of our house, reading, resting (I have a cold, and pregnancy makes it hard to sleep all night), chatting with people back home, and researching childbirth (I’m getting into the whole natural thing; you can ask if you want more details).

Why am I on semi-house-arrest? Well, read my last post about how un-walkable the base is when it’s so cold and when pregnancy means I get tired often.

But my days are punctuated by errands and chores and activities I choose for myself, like making whole wheat banana bread. I’ve decided it’s pretty fun to chill at home, for now.

And my weeks are punctuated by weekends (and some weeknights) exploring with Joe.

Last Sunday, we even got to meet some new family. This time it was a young mom, Serin, who is perhaps two or three years older than I am, as well as her mother. But Serin is actually Joe’s mom’s cousin… so generational respect means he calls her “Immo”—aunt. So our baby would call her four-year-old son “Samchun”—uncle. And Serin’s mom, who seems closer to Joe’s and my parents’ age, Joe calls “Halmonee”—grandma.

But Serin teaches English at the exact university where I’ll take up Korean next month, which was a big surprise! This means I got to be part of our conversation over a delicious lunch (since it was partially in English), but more importantly, this means I’ll have a friend to meet for coffee after classes. I’ve been praying for good friendships and community here, and I know it takes time, but a coincidence like this makes me remember to trust God to help put community together!

While we were out with Serin, I saw this restaurant with a nonsensical name, and it made me laugh. I want to know the delicious of beef's story! Don't you?

That Monday morning, I woke up just in time for the Super Bowl. Yes, the big game was on Monday morning here. There was a party at the grill & bar on base that started at 6am (kickoff was 8:30am and the military had the day/morning off), but I decided to stay home in my PJs.

After some pre-game video chatting with my family, who had all gathered for festivities at my parents’ house, I spent the time watching the commercials online (commercials on the Armed Forces Network were silly ones submitted by soldiers, as well as public service announcements and clips of Super Bowl players and coaches saying thank you to the troops), glancing at the game on our TV, and piddling around on Facebook.

I don’t care about football, but I found myself really enjoying the Super Bowl. It wasn’t because of the commercials or the close Giants win, but—I realized—because I was doing the same thing at the same time as almost everyone I know back in the States.

It’s silly, I know, but I felt connected. It’s the little things.

This weekend Joe and I had some errands to run south of the Han River. Seoul, Like D.C., is bisected by water. Unlike D.C., the region of Seoul below the river is completely swankified. Nice malls, nice restaurants, and TONS AND TONS of plastic surgery clinics, like this one labeled on a map in the subway (want a small face?).

Plastic surgery is HUGE here. Huge. Eyelid surgery is the most common, I hear. Some Koreans naturally have eyelids that come down, but many (most?) don't. It's become a sign of beauty here, though, so many, many people have the surgery. Here's a before-and-after image I got from Google:



Joe's grandmother even suggested he get it! (...no thank you...) But as you can see, Joe is quite happy as he is.


There are countless other surgeries popular here, from rounding the eyes to changing the nose (to look more western) to face peels to botox. I can't imagine the pressure to look beautiful young men and women must be under here.

Other than plastic surgery joints, the area south of the river has fun areas for restaurants (with a propensity for interesting names, as always—don't you want to go to The Ho Bar?)
and fancy malls, which are rife with ads stringing random English words together.




Have I mentioned that Seoul is crowded? The malls, the subways, the alleyways, the markets, the food courts, everywhere: SO. MANY. PEOPLE.

(You can guess how much I stand out with my blonde hair...)

Which leads to a cultural difference Americans find particularly aggravating: There is no personal space.

And this is the nice way to say it.

What I mean is, in a crowd, Americans will move aside for people passing, cover their mouths when they cough (!!), wait in line without pushing forward (usually) and all around try not to touch people around them—unless they are trying to start a fight. Koreans? Not so. Even the old ladies will just push right through, even if there's space to go around.

I had one person triple bump me trying to pass me while I was walking. I mean, really? You have to bump me THREE times in a row? Just ask me to move aside, or go around me!

Joe says there's not really a way people say "pardon me" in Korean to ask to squeeze by. At least not that he's heard of. So I'm learning to be rude, by American standards. If I don't want to be pushed around, I have to just look like I own the road.

(Safety note: Never practice this on an actual road in Korea, since cars will not stop for pedestrians. Or red lights.)

For example, Joe and I ordered and paid at a bustling food court and began to look for seats. And we looked. And looked. And looked. Everyone was hovering over tables that looked ready to clear, and everyone was pushing past us to get to available spots. Our little buzzers went off saying our food was ready, but we were still searching, searching.

Finally, I went to the counter to grab my tray and decided I was on a mission. I WOULD sit down. Hot food in hand and beware-of-hungry-pregnant-woman expression on my face, I just trucked through the crowd confidently... and guess what? People moved aside for me to pass! Breakthrough!

Then, last night Joe and I were standing on a crowded subway, right next to the door between cars, and I was holding on to the only bar available. A woman in her 50s, chatting on her cell phone, walked up looking like she was going to pass through the door to the subway car behind (that's allowed here). So I moved aside briefly for her to pass, and guess what? She stood right in front of my bar and just stayed there, talking on her phone! She wasn't even using the bar; she just made me move so she could stand there at the end of the car and talk. This wasn't a teenager; it was a grown woman.

So, newly-found rudeness in hand, I just reached in front of her and grabbed my bar again. She shifted, no problem, and got out of my way.

Sigh.

On the lighter side, here's another fun English-ism for your entertainment. It is a pack of 8.5' x 11' stickable cloths. Cool idea for crafting, but misguided advertising:

"Kind & homely. Knows how to listen a part of daily, Well-mannered, your comma. daily like..."

Settling In

Living on Yongsan Army Garrison is like living in a suburb… but a suburb planted smack in the middle of a megacity that has a population of more than 10 million (New York City has about 8 million).

There are high-rises visible and subways accessible outside of every gate, and yet we Americans are in our own little Mayberry—except our crossing guards wear camo.

I won’t get into too much detail or post pictures since this is a military installation, after all, but I’ll share things anyone looking could find out easily elsewhere online.

Our suburb has a movie theater, a grocery store, a Walmart-type store, several minimarts and food courts (Baskin Robbins, Taco Bell, Manchu Wok, Burger King, etc.), a hotel, a high school, a middle school, an elementary school, some gyms, offices, apartments, houses—anything a suburb would have. And our little embassy-housing enclave is a gated community that looks like 1950s Pleasantville tract housing.

In short, it’s weird. But terribly convenient.

For example, the Commissary (our grocery store) is stocked with 95 percent American imports, courtesy of the U.S. Army. There’s a (very) small section for Korean produce and another for Korean meats, but even the eggs are from California. It threw me off at first, this slightly smaller American Safeway here in Seoul, and I swore to at least find local produce in off-base grocery stores.

But then I visited an off-base grocery store and saw organic eggs for the equivalent of $7. So I picked up the $3 version (for 10 eggs, not a dozen, I realized in the checkout line) and decided shopping off base would be a treat, not the norm.

I’ve heard Americans living off base call the Commissary “heaven.” And I guess it would be for people spending as much as you’d have to at the Korean grocers, and people who just miss food from home.

So I’m officially grateful for the Commissary.

Embassy staffers say they live in America but commute to Korea, and I completely understand the sentiment. And just like any suburb, it can be hard to get out, other than for work, since it takes a while to walk to the base exits and the subway stops—particularly in this freezing weather.

So we take taxis, or (those who, unlike us, have a car already) drive to the exits, park, and walk out.

For people who love living in suburbs yet still want a city job, it would be easy to stay on base 90 percent of the time. Everything you need is here. And it seems there are people who do just that—or at least those who try.

But I’m not content as solely a suburb person.

I’m grateful for the convenience of base, particularly since we’re expecting our first child and we want to get to know other embassy people well, but I don’t want to grow content living in the bubble.

I want to explore off base and see the palaces and museums and markets and coffee shops and people and strange signs in English.

But.

It’s hard to be motivated to do that on my own when at 9:07am, it’s 1 degree Fahrenheit. If I was working, such weather would make me want to stay inside and work around the house or read or watch TV or write (ahem, like I’m doing at the moment). Plus, now that I’m pregnant, my energy level has this habit of dropping precipitously with no notice, so I’ve decided I’m going to take advantage of hibernation season and just enjoy it. Springtime and cherry blossoms will be here before I know it. I hope.

So most of my errands have been around the base. Without a car, it’s tricky to get everything done at once, as I would back in the states. The base is KIND OF walkable, but not if you’re carrying groceries or goods from the PX (mini-Walmart-type store) like toilet paper and a wireless router and Lysol wipes and a humidifier (did I mention the air is drier than bones here in winter?).

Oh, and right now, it’s only walkable if you are really good at bundling up. So I’ve become an expert at layers and I’ve become very attached to my down puffer coat.

To make my carless life easier, there are semi-frequent free buses circling the base, and I can catch one about a 10-minute walk from my house. If I’ve been shopping, I just load my bags into one of the base taxis (whose drivers understand English) for a $3 ride straight to my door. We’re looking for a used car for me, but pickings are slim in the wintertime, and it’s hard to get excited about the safety prospects of a car from the ‘90s.

But I have gotten off base some this week, and, as usual, saw some entertaining things.

Like a woman in the waiting room at the dermatologist’s office (where people also go for plastic surgery, which is extremely common and popular in Korea).

She was wearing a stylish, creamy off-white sweater with a relaxed turtleneck—something I might wear to a nice dinner or to church.

But when she faced me, a glimmer caught my eye on the front. In gold, sparkly letters, her sweater said:

“TAKE IT OFF.”

I seriously doubt she knows what that means.

In fact, I see accidental innuendo everywhere. Like at Lotte Mart (a weird but helpful blend of department store, Toys R Us, grocery store, and Target), they have a section called Digital Play Park. The slogan? “Touch. Feel. Enjoy.”

Hmm. Awkward.

They sell electronics and video games.

Back on base, I’m feeling a bit more settled in, partly because our air shipment arrived on Wednesday, so I have all my clothes and sheets and towels. Back in D.C., Joe and I were keeping our eyes peeled for a new comforter cover, but now that ours arrived, I can’t imagine parting with it. It’s part of home! It’s ours!

We are still waiting for our kitchen gear, our decorations, and especially our oh-so-comfortable mattress to arrive (hopefully later this month!), but it’s nice to have more filling our 3-bedroom house than what we could pack in our suitcases. At least our room and bathroom feel like ours.

My other recent victory is my cell phone (believe me, it was a victory; this was my fourth attempt to get one). Seoul is technologically as advanced—or, likely, more advanced—than the U.S., and it seems EVERYONE has a smartphone. So I knew I’d want one for navigation, the subway map, Korean translation help, a lifeline in case I’m lost or in trouble, and just to communicate (you now can Skype IM or call me if you want to, as long as you check the time difference!).

And that cell phone will be really handy when I start my language program next month! Learning Korean (well, one semester’s worth) is all part of my scheme to be comfortable off base once I have a little tyke joining me on my adventures. (Plus, as I’ve said before, I’ve got to impress my in-laws!)

I’m a little intimidated by the schedule: 4 hours a day, 5 days a week for 10 weeks, plus homework. But I think a serious program is the best way for me to learn as much as possible as soon as possible so my little Kimchi and I can explore together more easily once he/she is born.

The program also gives me another reason to enjoy hibernation and not feel guilty about staying inside today: In one more month, I’ll be a student again.

Seoul's Markets: Dongdaemoon and Namdaemoon

As I write, snow is piling up on our hedges and rooftop like a perfect frosting, and I just got to watch the baby next door reach up for the fluffy flakes and giggle when she grabbed one.

I couldn’t help but think: Wow. Next year I’ll be showing my baby the wonder of snow.

Mommy-thought-of-the-day aside, I’ve got quite the foodie update for you.

Over the weekend, Joe and I explored two of Seoul’s markets: Dongdaemoon (East Gate) and Namdaemoon (South Gate), both of which mark outer edges of the old walled city of Seoul, before it was the modern metropolis it is now.


Dongdaemoon is incredible and gigantic, a winding market of alleyways covered by an arched frosted-glass ceiling. Lining the alleyway, stall after stall sells fabrics, blankets, decorative pillows, and hanboks (traditional Korean dresses like the one I wore in my Korean wedding ceremony, pictured here).

We got there around 5pm, before many of the stalls were even open. That’s right, if we were stocking up for a quilt-making fest, we’d be out of luck. Apparently much of Dongdaemoon is basically wholesale, and it’s open from around 8pm to 5am, when the buyers aren’t out running their own shops around the city.

After winding our way down half-darkened alleyways of stores, we discovered the most beautiful thing of all: the food stalls.


Wow.














The savory, nutty smell of frying bindae duk (pictured right) had my mouth watering. Bindae duk is a mungbean pancake, and I don’t know what a mungbean is, but it’s what that round machine is milling in the bottom left of the photo—you can see the dough-like result coming out the sides. At top right, there are rows of the final, fried result. Bindae duk is delicious—savory and nutty, as the smell suggests—but it is GREASY!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Here’s the stall we really couldn’t resist:
















This woman was making fresh noodles right there in front of us! We sat down on the heated benches (don’t ask me how they are heated, but they are, and it actually helped a lot!) and ordered up some kal gooksu (knife noodle soup).

The woman plopped freshly-cut noodles into a giant metal vat and a few minutes later, voilà!



The. Best. Noodles. I’ve. Ever. Had.

There is truly nothing like sitting on a hot bench in freezing weather, eating the freshest possible, steaming noodle soup made right in front of you by sweet old women.

Namdaemoon Market isn’t as grand as it’s easterly neighbor—it’s also a market of alleyways and stalls, but it is smaller and has more tented restaurants (literally, restaurants made of clear tarps).

In Namdaemoon, though, I discovered my new favorite iteration of fried dough: hotteok (sounds like “hot duck”). It starts out as a sweet dough ball. The chef opens it up, fills the center with a dry mixture of (I’m guessing) brown sugar and cinnamon, and closes up the ball once more. Then it goes on a flat-top grill where the dough fries and the mixture inside melts into a gooey filling.

It comes out looking like a filled pancake, and it tastes (and smells) like heaven.

Continuing the food theme, Joe and I had to try one of Korea’s favorite trendy treats: the waffle. While Belgian waffles may seem like the purview of
brunch restaurants in the U.S., here, they belong in the coffee shops. And if you can believe it, coffee shops seem more prevalent in Seoul than any major U.S. city. At shops like Café Bene, you can get the normal waffles with fruit and whipped cream (like Joe’s, in the picture here)… or you can be brave and go for yogurt and syruped fruit (like mine)… OR you can go waffles and ice cream. Yum!


Café Bene claims to have “the best Brussels waffles in the world.” (That's right—the best Belgian waffle is apparently in Seoul at a chain coffee shop, Bene claims, not in Belgium.) As their slogan urges, you should come here yourself and taste the Bene different!


All of this exploring has us familiar with Seoul’s subway system, which, though extremely complicated (see map), is surprisingly easy. It’s even cleaner than D.C.’s metro, which is saying something.

There are some oddities, though—or rather, reminders that Korea is not a nation at peace. A cease-fire in 1953 meant the north and south weren’t actively fighting, but there was never a peace treaty, so they are technically still at war. Throughout the subway are these emergency kits the size of vending machines, complete with what looks like food and water rations and an oxygen tank. There are even some pubic-safety commercials on the TVs down there that role-play what to do in an attack.

Let's hope we never see a need for such things...