Monday Market – Peaches 복숭아
Like the persimmon, which is just starting to appear, peaches have different names for different types: some are hard, some medium and the most prized, very soft, is white.
Peaches towards the end of the season
© 林東哲 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Spotted Darter Dragonflies (고추잠자리)
Female 'chili dragonfly' lazing in the sun
October sees the second flush of dragonflies, the first being around mid-summer. The specie dominating this flush is the ‘Spotted Darter,’ (definetly –Sympetrum and possibly – Depressiusculum). In Korean these are known as ‘chili dragonflies’ (고추잠자리) as the males are bright red. Unfortunately, my one-room roof seemed only to attract females.
a temporary rest
the male is bright red in colour
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Monday Market – Groundnuts (땅콩)
Groundnuts
The ‘fruits’ which epitomize autumn are peanuts, pumpkins, persimmon, apples and the Chinese or Napa cabbage of which there is currently a shortage. In the last week peanuts have become very prolific in street markets. They are somewhat unlike the monkeynuts (ground nuts) you buy in the UK in that they are still moist and have an earthy taste to them. Koreans often boil them for a few minutes, un-shelled, after which they taste much nicer. In this state they can be frozen. I still have a few in my freezer from last year though I do not know how long they safely keep.
Groundnuts at 4000 Won a boxful (sterling - 2 pounds)
Peanuts and pumpkins
The Memi’s Lament
Last Saturday (25th September), I heard my last memi (매미 – cicada), and with it ends the song that has accompanied the entire summer. The temperature certainly wasn’t much over 84 degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature at which memi ‘sing,‘ and in the slight breeze which heralds autumn, it felt cooler. I always find the song of a single memi sad, a lament to summer and suppose they epitomize the lives of many humans who end their days ‘singing’ to no one. Had the memi been around a month ago, it would have been surrounded by others and its voice would have joined summer’s paean, screaming from the trees. Now, it’s a lonely, solitary dirge to which there is no crescendo and no response. I would imagine the best thing that can happen to the final memi, those that have arrived a little too late and missed the party, is an early frost.
© 林東哲 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Ersatz Kimchi in a State of Emergency
Kimchi-ism
I’m tempted to do some stealing! With an almost total absence of any police on the street I doubt I’d get caught. The only thing that puts me off is that being a waygukin, I stand out. It would only take one Korean to see me humping ‘the goods’ to my one room, for my visa to be relinquished.
Rooftop shopping? Either would fit in a carrier bag
Rooftop shopping? These require a trolley
I haven’t eaten cabbage kimchi in several days and I’ve noticed either a stark absence, or drastic reduction of any in restaurants. Korea without kimchi, unbelievable! You have to live here to understand the cultural and culinary significance caused by a cabbage shortage. You might find it amusing that a lack of cabbage can fuck a nation, especially when you come from a country like Britain where once upon a time, when families practiced that barbaric ritual of eating meals together, children had to be forced to ‘eat their greens.’ While Kimchi is the national food of Korea and has almost iconic status, its deficiency is not the equivalent of Germany without bratwurst, or Britain without fish and chips, it deeply more devastating. I would go for months without a bratty when I lived on Mainland Europe and sauerkraut was something you ate occasionally. Koreans eat kimchi with every meal and in some cases it is a core component of specific meals. To understand the significance of a kimchi-less Korea, you have to envisage Britain without any form of cooking oil, or potatoes, the USA without hamburgers, or perhaps even a nation without petrol or alcohol! Whatever item you choose in an attempt to elicit empathy, it has to be something fundamental enough to strike at the very heart of a country.
Napa Cabbages October 2008
And of course, it isn’t just the Chinese (or Napa) cabbage that’s suffered a devastating season, cucumbers, lettuce and mooli (무), all of which are used in other forms of kimchi or in accompanying barbecues, are also in short supply. Two weeks ago, I bought a rather small cabbage for 5000 Won (£2.50) which is a massive increase on the hearty one I bought in January, costing 1000 Won (50 pence). Yesterday, in E-Mart, there were no cabbages at all and the vegetable section looked somewhat deserted. And all at a time when cabbages should be one of the most prolific items being sold by street vendors.
President, Lee Myung-Bak’s, recent declaration that he will only eat kimchi made from the European type of cabbage (양배추), until the shortage abates, suggests the problem is a national emergency. However, before we join the rebellion or start lynching farmers, it is worth remembering there was a temporary shortage last year and in 2007, when chili and cabbage suffered bad harvests, it cost me a small fortune to make a batch of kimchi.
My January batch of kimchi
Meanwhile, restaurants that rely on kimchi and other forms of lettuce and cabbage have had to reduce their portions and in some cases, rather than raise prices, are compensating customers by providing larger amounts of meat. As a meat guzzling waygukin, I’d much rather have less rabbit food and a larger platter of barbecued pork, especially as kimchi made from European cabbage is totally ersatz.
Cabbages being salted. October-November 2008
I’m out of fresh kimchi and intended making my winter batch this month and while I have kimchi in my ceramic pot, made in January, it is the ‘stagnant’ type best used in cooking. So, do Koreans ever steal each others kimchi ? There are a number of pots on my roof top and indeed pots stand on most rooftops as well as in recesses and corners of buildings. I’m very tempted to pinch a pot, not because I need kimchi but because nicking kimchi is both outrageous and comical. A waygukin stealing a pot of someone’s homemade kimchi during a cabbage shortage smacks of pro-Korean-ism and a love powerful enough of driving you to theft could be construed as a crime of passion.
There might not be any kimchi in the supermarkets, but there's a feast of it on every rooftop.
Related Articles
- Surging Kimchi Prices Bite Restaurants (online.wsj.com)
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Mountain Obsessions
I keep saying fat has arrived in Korea but of course truly fat Koreans are still rare and nothing compared with the fatties of the USA or UK. Generally, Korean fatness is chubby rather than humongous but no doubt this will gradually change. In a recent OECD report, Korea was placed 30th in terms of obesity in the world’s top 33 most economically developed countries.
Sunday, 5.51 am and the restaurant has customers
On Sunday morning I decided to walk up the mountain and watch the sunrise. I wasn’t quite early enough and actually reached the point where the mountain trail begins, as dawn was breaking, at about 6 am. But on leaving my house I was greeted by total darkness. Of course, it’s never quite quiet in Korea and near my house a 24 hour restaurant had customers who were either finishing off last night’s party or having an early breakfast. Even the small park by my house had a few visitors.
Sunday morning, 6.04 am and it's light
7.40 am Tuesday morning
The point at which Warayong mountain trail begins is directly opposite the municipal sports center and swimming pool with adjacent football pitches and tennis courts. As dawn broke there was already a football match underway and around the pitches I counted twenty two people briskly walking. As is usual in Korea, they were mostly middle-aged and older.
7.40 am Tuesday. Jogging and walking
6.53 am the the first peak (Dragon's Head, 용두)
Even early in the morning there are people on the trail. Koreans are quite obsessed with mountain walking and even the big climbs, up larger mountains, are perceived as a walk rather than gruesome exercise. Most Koreans have the paraphernalia necessary for a trek in any season and in any weather: walking boots, breathable clothing, hats, water bottles, walking sticks and hankies or towels to mop up the sweat. Once in the mountains, especially in the morning, it’s not unusual to hear people doing a Korean type of yodel and I have even heard someone practicing a trumpet.
After reaching the Dragon’s Head (용두), the crown of the Warayong Mountain, I walked a little further to where the refreshment stall is and there find twenty people, again mostly middle aged and over, working out on the exercise machines as well as a number of people waiting for the vendor to start serving.
This was taken on the Saturday
a mountain vendor
the long shadows of autumn
Children or young people are not as prolific on the mountain trails, they are usually too busy studying but in fairness, many will do one of the various martial arts or other sports. Walking up the mountain taxes me enormously and I frequently have to stop and catch my breath. However, I have yet to see a Korean pensioner as knackered by the mountain climb as I am. Indeed, for most Koreans, the Dragon’s Head is the point at which you begin stationary exercises, or climb the next peak, in either case, it is a warm-up. For me however, it signifies the climax of my exercise routine and once I have had a little sit down and a cup of coffee, it’s downhill all the way home.
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Chu-Sok Cheesecake
The second most important holiday – ch’u-soek (추석)
The Lurpax was back on the shelves in E-Mart and after spending exactly 9 days with a bad case of ‘red eye,’ otherwise known as conjunctivitis, I was in need of something comforting. My right eye flared up on Friday the 17th ruining my weekend and subsequently ruining the ch’u-soek holiday (추석, September 21st-23rd) as well as the following weekend. So, on the Saturday morning I had to go to my doctor who subsequently sent me to the ophthalmic hospital. Back home in Scumland UK, I’d probably have waited 4 days to see a doctor and procedures would have thrown my plans into the liquidizer. But in Daegu, there’s an eye hospital every few blocks and doctors and opticians in every block and I can easily accommodate visits to the clinic without any disruption to my plans. The eye hospital is approximately 200 paces from my front door! Just as well as I’ve had to re-visit the clinic every third day. The infection seems to be dwindling but this morning, sat in the doctor’s chair with my head in some contraption, I felt like Alex DeLarge and though there was an absence of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, it is a strange coincidence that whilst in the waiting room, this is the music that has entertained me on my MP3 player (in fact the Liszt piano transcription). Once my head is in the constraining device, a lengthy telescope-cum-bazooka is aligned with my eye. All week he’s simply looked and prescribed medicine but today he starts poking my eye with what felt like a dental probe. Then, through eyes streaming with tears and blood, he shows me a cotton bud laced in this red gunk which is the infection membrane. Then I had to have a shot in the backside.
Alex DeLarge (Malcolm McDowell) in Clockwork Orange
It was only to be expected that my infection, which suspends using the gym or bathhouse, would concur with a major holiday, chu-sok (추석), the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving, and I would imagine that by Monday, when normal work resumes, I will be mostly cured. There seems to be a ‘red-eye’ epidemic in Daegu and I have often seen it mentioned on the news. It seems especially prevalent in summer. At the clinic there were two families all of whom were infected and numerous other individuals with either one or two red eyes. I didn’t go out for several days but have since bought some dark glasses.
the ophthalmic clinic from my roof top (제일 안과)
So, after having my eyes attacked with a cotton bud, I went to the supermarket. The Lurpax talked to me, trying to convince me how delicious it would be on some toast and I would have bought it if a cheesecake on the nearby cake and bread stand hadn’t talked louder. I’ve eaten cheese cake only once in Korea and it was just like the traditional British cheese cake – the type with currents and full of mascarpone cheese. The cake is in a box and by Jupiter’s cock it looked very tasty!
real cheesecake, simple and unadulterated
It was pricey, 8000 Won (£4) but after a shit week and that cotton bud, plus I’d actually walked up the mountain before going to the eye-clinic, I felt I deserved it. I get home and make some fresh coffee and sit down to enjoy my belayed ch’u-soek treat and all the time the cheesecake is telling me how sexy it’s going to taste and how superbly creamy it’s going to be. And then comes the shock… where’s the fucking cheese? I cut the cake in half looking for it but the cheesecake seems to have lost half its namesake and comprises solely cake, extremely white, light cake! Nothing about it is cheesy and while it was probably a very delicious cake, it’s not a cheesecake and so, with a curse, I chuck it straight in the bin.
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Jabbering
I’ve been making a concentrated effort to improve my Korean because of late I’ve been bored stupid talking to Koreans. On more than one occasion, I’ve actually been quite rude to people in an attempt to avoid talking. It’s nothing personal and indeed quite the contrary, I can withstand a Korean talking at me for hours on end without waning, but what bores me the most is having to listen to my own drivel. I have developed a range of conversation topics where I can impart my ideas and maybe even respond to a few questions, but unless I can keep control of the ‘conversation,’ I am basically fucked!
Well, a little, perhaps...
My boring litany revolve around being English, being a teacher, learning Korean and hanja, having a taekwondo black-belt, George Bush, and food. I have others, but these are fairly central. Each conversation topic has a number of branches and each of these, sub-branches but very quickly the conversation will reach a point where I no longer hear key words and don’t have the vocabulary or grammar to go further. At this point it is time to jabber.
My Korean skills improve at a laboriously slow rate but my ability to appear knowledgeable, to appear as if I understand every spoken word, and to ‘jabber,’ have been catapulted to perfection. When it comes to the art of jabbering, my kung-fu is strong!
Jabbering shouldn’t be underestimated or treated with derision as it is an integral part of learning another language. First of all, to jabber, you have to be able to use at least a small percentage of the language. Secondly, you have to recognise various tones of voice because you need to respond to these appropriately. Most importantly, you have to be able to differentiate questions and statements. Thirdly, your skills at reading body language, and using it yourself, are crucial.
Provided both parties give the appearance of understanding a conversation, this is achieved by strategically interjecting words such yea’ (예) and ‘really’ (찐자) at appropriate points, by occasionally stating that you don’t understand a word, even though in reality you haven’t understood the last five minutes conversation, making the correct body language, and generally latching onto any word you do recognise, and then repeating it, you can ‘converse’ for hours. It would seem that two humans,from totally different cultures will tolerate a lengthy dialogue in which only a small percentage of the conversation is mutually understood, provided the charade is successfully performed. Indeed, two hours of mutual jabbering can be quite rewarding.
If a person is willing to jabber with you, and you with them, it is perhaps indicative of a mutual liking for each other and it should be pursued as a friendship could develop. I am often amazed, and saddened, that I have some very close Korean friends with whom I jabber and yet am still only capable of making ‘small talk.’ I’ll happily talk to any Korean in my attempts to improve my abilities but having to listen to my own drivel has become tiresome.
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Shaman Spider (무당 거미)
I’ve had an infection or ‘red-eye’ and haven’t been able to use the gym or bathhouse so instead I’ve been walking up Warayong Mountain (Wikipedia location) in Song-So.
I noticed a wasp nest on a tree and watched it over several mornings. These wasps are much smaller than European ones.
wasp nest
This is the shaman spider (무당 거미), which is often translated as ‘sorcerer.’ In English it is known as the golden banana spider or joro spider (nephila clavata). ‘ It probably measured about three inches long and can inflict a mildly painful but non-deadly bite. Autumn signals the mating season for spiders and these beautiful, if not scary looking specimens are also cannibalistic. The female is larger than the male and has red markings towards the back, underside of her abdomen.
Female shaman spider (무당 거미) nephila clavata
female shaman spider with distinctive red markings on the underside of abdomen.
the nephila family spin one of the largest size webs – often in excess of 2 meters.
The web was about 4 feet across and slightly yellow in colour and at one point I walked into a supporting strand. It did not break and I noted at the time how resilient it was. Apparently, genes from this spider have been injected into silk worm cocoons and as a result they subsequently produce a much stronger silk. This product is being launched on the market, in the form of extra durable socks, in 2010.
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
Warayong Mountain, Song-So, Daegu
I decided to go for a little mountain walk this morning as I’ve got an eye infection and can’t use a bathhouse, so the gym was out of the question.
Warayong Mountain from Song-So Rose Park
It was going to be touch and go whether I actually left my one-room and decided that if I took a bottle of dong-dong-ju (동동주), which is unrefined rice wine, to drink at the summit, my departure might be guaranteed. However, once in my local GS25 store, I decided not to bother with the alcohol and told myself, if I really wanted some I could probably find a few old guys on the mountain top who’d give me a glass.
A 'watering-hole' on the way up Warayong Mountain
Mountainside graves
Mountainside graves
Up Warayong San, (Wikipedia start of trail) in Song-So, even at 8 in the morning, there is an army of pensioners trundling up the mountain. I was expecting the climb to be easy. I’ve been working out at Migwang on a treadmill, 3-4 times a week and walk at a brisk pace for 30-50 minutes. I never run, when you’re fat and over fifty running is totally undignified and besides, I’d probably break the walking machine. Before I’d even reached the mountain, I was sweating and once I’d climbed the first 60 steps on the mountain itself, I was ready for a coronary.
The climb to the peak closest to E-Mart, Song-So, is a baby of a mountain and much smaller than Ap-san and Pal-gong-San but the walk involves several steep climbs by steps. At the top, I was exhausted and my legs had turned to jelly.
The communal mirror at the Warayong Peak where you can fix your make-up before the decent.
A clock has been located here for over ten years. The men in the background were my source of rice wine.
I’ve written Warayong peak before, (Safe and Sound), and was pleased the clock is still on a tree where the exercise facilities are plus a mirror, which some one had affixed to a tree. Korean kids are kept too busy to turn their interests to vandalising and wrecking the efforts of others, that they so often do in Scumland UK. Sat on benches were three men who offered me rice wine. It was chilled and the drink filled with shards of ice. Then I moved down a side path to where I knew there was another exercise area, seating and usually a small refreshment area. Here I was offered red wine. The refreshment stall is a simple, large umbrella under which coffee and soft drinks are sold. When not in use the items are stored under tarpaulin. Often there are vendors selling socks, mountain wear, or baseball caps at this location and dotted around the edge of exercise areas were their tarpaulin stores.
A mountain side refreshment vendor
Mountain vendors' storage facilities
Descending
© Nick Elwood 2010 Creative Commons Licence.
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