02 June 2014
This is why I both love and hate living in a small town in South Korea:
- I have more chance of being hit by flying clay from a passing tractor than being hit by a car.
- Summer brings with it a green blanket of natural goodness, as well as the lingering smell of manure and mud.
- Our apartment is so small, I can clean it quite effectively by extending the broom outwards and spinning around once or twice in only three different spots.
- As a foreigner, I am subjected to at least three good, long, blatant, shameless, piercing stares from “friendly” locals every day. Can you say celebrity!
- Birds, snakes, wild strawberries, pheasants, centipedes and ducks make my walks to and from school all the more exciting. Likewise for unplanned, unavoidable bum-sliding on the icy roads and pavements during Winter.
- 4-wheelers (quad bikes), electronic wheelchairs and baby tractors with trailers are all quite acceptable forms of transport on even the busiest roads in town.
- Walking from one end of town to the other never takes more than twenty minutes and there are sure to be at least 100 students greeting us along the way, as between us, we teach at the only elementary, middle and high school in the town.
- The ancient old lady collecting trash provides endless entertainment for passing pedestrians (and endless frustration for hurried motorists) as she pushes her cardboard collection trailor around town, in the middle of the road, oblivious to the traffic jams and horns blaring all around her.
- No matter which secret alleyway I choose to take (for exploration purposes), all ways eventually lead to the main street in town.
- The mandu (Korean dumpling) shop owner greets me with a friendly smile and courteous bow every single day. Even when I don’t buy mandu from her for a couple of weeks.
Aaaaah, Korean life.
P.S. Did I mention that I have only been asked if I’m “Russian” (code for ‘lady of the night’) four times in three months. No, no I’m not Russian. Not available, sorry. This is awkward. I’m leaving now…
Today marked the annual Korean Formula 1 Grand Prix. The race began at 15.00pm with a colourful opening cermony kicking off at 2 p.m. The opening parade, with participants dressed to the nines in traditional Korean ‘hanbok’ and ‘Samulnori’ clothing, showcased true Korean drama and legendary story-telling, through Korean dance.
The sound of the jet flying over us at close proximity was enough to give everybody a huge fright and a taste of the noisy car engines to come (although the fighter jet engine felt about a hundred times louder than the cars!)
