Gyeongju - the "Museum without Walls"

Gyeongju is, without doubt, one of the most spectacular places I have been to. I had little trouble seeing why it had been nicknamed the "Museum without walls". One can literally walk, in open air, through all the cultural and historical wonders at leisure. If one lives closeby, like I do, it is the perfect day trip in good weather. And most of the sites-to-see are within walking distance of each other.

On this particular Sunday, I was not in the best condition health-wise and I did not get to Gyeongju early enough in the morning. But I saw as much as possible in the time I was there, guided by some friends who live in the area. It was a delightful, cultural day in the sun...

Gyeongju was the capital of the Silla Kingdom, the longest surviving kingdom in the country, for nearly a thousand years (BC 57-935) and has a vast amount of historical and cultural heritage. UNESCO has designated Gyeongju as a World Heritage site (http://english.visitkorea.or.kr/). After visiting this fascinating place, this is hardly surprising and one can see why it is one of South Korea's biggest tourist attractions, even a millenium after the demise of the Silla dynasty.

According to the Korea's official tourism site, Gyeongju is the nation's most popular fieldtrip destination. (In fact, one of my schools' fieldtrip is to Gyeongju next week.) Ponds, tombs, mountains, temples, grottos, observatories and museums abound in this amazing place. It is also home to many of the greatest Buddhist treasures in Korea.

Cheonmachong Tomb (Tumuli Park) is home to ancient tombs of kings and noblemen of the Silla Dynasty. There are 23 tombs in total, the most famous being Cheonmachong and Hwangnamdaechong. Inside the tombs, relics can be seen from a time long past; remains, crowns and other gold accessories.

Gyeongju also boasts Cheomseongdae, the oldest existing atronomical observatory in Asia (http://english.visitkorea.or.kr/). According to the visitkorea site, it was originally designed to look to the stars as a means to forecast the weather. As one of Korea's national treasures, it is quite an impressive site up close.

What Gyeongju is most famous for amongst us foreigners, is the cherry blossoms in springtime. There is a definite window period to see the blossoms, however, as they last in Gyeonju for only two weeks. My trip to Gyeongju was at the end of the two weeks. Sadly, there was only one tree still cherry-blossoming in Tumuli Park. We certainly made the most of it by taking hundreds of pictures. The cherry blossoms at this time of year are absolutely beautiful.

So are the flowers in springtime, something Gyeongju certainly does not lack.

These particular flowers did not smell pleasant, hence the hilarity of the situation...

There are several places in Gyeongju to see some of the traditional Korean buildings and temples. The woodwork and designs of these buildings is something to behold.

Gyeongju "Museum" is certainly a place I will be visiting again, for its temples, a paddle around Bomun Lake and trip back a thousand years. Truly remarkable, I tell you.

The madness continues - April 15 to 17...

Once you realise that time flies in South Korea, you also come to realise that a year is not that long, actually, and that if you don't hurry up, you won't see everything you want to see before you leave the country. On the weekends, there is no time to rest or catch up with your writing and no time to stay at home and recover from a heavy week. There is exploration to be done and fun to be had and thus, the madness continues weekly; it's a cycle of non-stop movement, travel and happy exhaustion...

On April 15th, I planned to go and visit a friend, Bells, in Gyeongsan, about an hour and half by bus from Pohang city. From Heung-hae to Pohang, it is at least a 45 minute bus. So, all in all, the trip takes a good two hours. We had arranged to meet for supper and have an early night. Well, as Murphy is my dearest friend, my co-teachers decided to leave school an hour late. For most, this would be a minor setback in the evening's plans. For me, it was a giant hurdle, for I work in the mountains. This means:
- the carpool must drive back to Heung-hae (45 to 50 minutes depending on traffic),
- I must walk to my apartment from the drop-off location (approximately 15 minutes),
- I must collect and pack my belongings (10 minutes),
- I must walk to the bus stop (which I just passed on the way home) and wait for a bus to arrive (anywhere between 10 and 30 minutes),
- I must catch the bus to Heung-hae (45 minutes),
- I must buy a ticket for Gyeongsan and wait for the next bus to leave (average time for waiting + trip = 2 hours).
Therefore, total time travelling = minimum 4 hours = mission.

If I had got the right bus, I would have been there for supper at 20:30ish. Alas, I only got the 20:20 bus and only arrived in Gyeongsan at a mild 21:40. It ended up being quite a late supper, to say the least. Bells and I headed to the student area called Yeungnam, where the University is situated. Our "quiet supper" started very well; we went to a little bar/restaurant and ordered rice and pork and a pitcher of beer. As we were thinking of leaving, we started a conversation with a couple of young students to our left. They offered us a shot of a drink called Chong-ha, which is similar to Japanese saki (wine). Bells looked at me from across the table and said: "You know that if you accept that drink, we will never leave this place." And I said: "Oh no, rubbish. It's just one little drink." Well, the night did not end. We made friends with everyone in the establishment, I spoke every Korean word I have learnt since my February arrival. Our last stop was at a noraebang - a karaoke/singing room - with some of our new-found friends. It was a fantastic Korean experience, truly fantastic!

Saturday was difficult, to say the least. But we managed to wake rather early and head to Daegu. Gyeongsan is a relatively small place in Korean terms but it is also a semi-suburb of Daegu, a very large and happening city. Daegu is all lights and shopping, restaurants and tall buildings. I managed to purchase a desperately-needed sports cap and a handbag and we caught a bit of an outside concert for charity. The highlight was the finding of a little second-hand shop on the way to the subway. It was a lovely day, indeed.

In the late afternoon on Saturday, Bells and I took the bus to Pohang. It was the perfect time of day for a scenic trip through the rural areas; the light was soft and made the mountains and farming fields look movie-worthy. We listened to depressing love-loss, heart-break music and enjoyed the break in the madness.

After one hell of a good party, we woke up on Sunday for our trip to Gyeonju. Gyeonju is 30 to 40 minutes by bus from Pohang. This little place is full of absolute wonder. It isn't called the 'Outside Museum' for nothing. We had a glorious day, despite the aching headaches, in the sun and in the tombs and under the cherry blossoms and amongst the Spring flowers. A truly cultural experience for once...

Meet Mozi...

Seoul, the capital city of South Korea, is an awe-inspiring, frightening, wonderful, deathly, life-changing place. I shall never be the same again after my visit there on 25 to 27 March. Never the same.

That weekend symbolises the first pay day, the first big trip to Seoul and the reunion of hundreds of Korean English teachers. It was EPIC (no pun intended)! Most of us newbies' tanks were running rather low on Won by 25 March and were desperately in need of a bank account re-fuel.

The epic trip actually began in little Pohang on the Korean east coast, about a thirty minute bus ride from where I live in Heung-hae. Hopping onto the 6:30 pm Pohang-to-Seoul bus, I had serious second thoughts about a five-hour trip after a long week at school. Five of us left from the Pohang Express Bus Terminal, beer and soju in hand to make the trip seem a little shorter. By hour three, I was so tired, I had to take a little nap. It was an incredibly bad idea as when I had to wake up, I was grumpy, cold and unhappy. I had to nudge Scotty every few minutes to keep him from drifting back into 'lala' land. When we arrived at the hostel after an hour-long subway trip after the five-hour bus trip, I was actually ready to simply curl up in bed. It was not to be, however, as the rest of Team Awesome (Claricle, Tashalicious, Kaitles, Christoffle and Hells Bells) were waiting for Scotty and I to arrive. We met the eighth member of the Seoul crew, Jo, also trying to find her way to the hostel. And our Seoul trip began properly at 1am on Saturday morning...

Frightening...South Korea has a population of approximately 49 million people. Well over 10 million of those people live in just one city: the capital, Seoul. It is a frighteningly busy place; there are people everywhere all the time. The subways are full, the streets are crowded and there is never an empty restaurant. The Pohang crowd arrived in Hong-dae, the student area where our hostel was, at 1am. When we walked out of the subway exit, there were so many people. Thanks to Claricle and her excellent map, we were able to navigate ourselves rather easily, I would have thought. Scotty was in charge of directions. If it wasn't for Tashalicious coming to find us, we'd still be wandering around Seoul at this point. Scotty was convinced we had to go the completely opposite way?

After dropping off our possessions, we were off to find somewhere to have a "quiet" drink. Everything was still open. I can see why young people want to live in this part of the country. I did no work at Rhodes and there was nothing to do there actually. In a place like Seoul, I may have fallen seriously off course.

Awe-inspiring...Despite being frighteningly busy, Seoul is also quite amazing. It is such a jacked-up place and very different to where I am living, obviously. In our short time there, we only went to two small parts of the city; Hong-dae (the student area and home of Hongik University) and the shopping haven (Myeong-dong), which has all the fashion stores. I have no knowledge of any of the following places as I cannot afford to even set foot inside any of them but us girls browsed around Zara, H&M and all the little side shops. I took a list of things I needed to buy and came home with nothing to show for it besides a straw summer hat I will probably never wear again (even though it looks quite good upon my head), a head band with a huge black flower attached (which I wear ALL the time) and some red nail polish for the nails that I bite daily! Ridiculous. The fashion of the majority of the Korean youth is rather awe-inspiring, however, and I long to learn something "fashiony" in my time here. It is definitely an area in which I lack serious talent.



Deathly...On Saturday night, after a lovely reunion party with the other teachers in Seoul, we all headed to a dance club, THE dance club in Hong-dae apparently. It was literally a deathly place. We paid some exorbitant sum to get in, only to leave straight away again. I have never been into a building where there are so many people. It was like taking part in a voluntary stampede. You did not have to move your feet at all. You were simply carried with the crowd up the stairs, men groping and kissing you from all directions. It was horrific. And definitely a fire hazard - danger zone - health and safety code red - place! In England, they would have torn that place down long ago for every kind of law infringement. It survives happily in Seoul. I am not sure how there have not been any deaths-by-stampede yet. Most of us came out from the underground hell after approximately four minutes, heaving with anger and shaking with fear. Some of the guys were actually wanting to punch anything in sight. Fortunately, we went straight back to the little bar from Friday night and all was well with the world again.

On Sunday morning, Scotty and I made our way back to the bus terminal to meet our fellow Pohangers and return to the east coast. Not looking forward to the 5 hour bus ride, we decided to have a little lunch before boarding. Stupidly, I sent Scotty to the counter to order two chicken burgers. He came back almost immediately with the purchases in hand. This was to be our second deadly experience of the weekend. It was apparently meant to be a tender grilled chicken fillet on a roll. Unfotunately, it did not seem to be grilled at all, was almost raw and had a revolting soya/kimchi/fish taste to it. Yummy. Even Mozi would not eat it! Never again shall I trust a man to order food when he is hungover and useless. Only joking Scottles!



Wonderful...My thirty or so hours in Seoul were quite wonderful. After a month in the mountains, it was like going to London for a party after caring for a grumpy English granny for 3 weeks. Absolute feedom! We had a brilliant party on both nights and it was so good to meet up with the orientation crew of English teachers again.

In the day on Saturday, we interrupted our shopping spree with a visit to Kraze burger (a Korean burger franchise, I believe?) for lunch and met up with the boys, Jo and Tashalicious who had skipped the shopping madness for a more calm exploration of the surroundings. Kraze Burger's service left a lot to be desired but their food left nothing at all. It was delicious!

We also stayed at a fantastic guesthouse called "Blu" in the Hong-dae area. As the Claricle has been year for over a year, she booked us in for the two nights and promised fluffy duvets and breakfast. We got just that. It was perfectly located and very comfortable. I actually regret not sleeping for more than 2 hours a night in that lovely bunk bed. The peanut butter and jam toast, coffee and orange juice in the morning was close to the best part!

The only "un-wonderful" moment was when I lost my favourite ring in the subway station. After a good search and a very good sulk, Kaitles was able to cheer me up by finding me a new friend. We named him Mozi and he goes everywhere with me these days; my miniature Korean mascot. After a good day's retail therapy, Kaitles, Hells Bells and I stopped at the subway station again. I asked if they had found a ring by any chance. The guard asked me what colour it was and I said it was silver. He gestured that he may have found one and reached down for what could well have been my ring. It was not though...sadness swiftly suffocated my soul again.

Life-changing...Seoul is a place never to forget. It is quite the most overwhelming experience I have had in a long time. With Team Awesome in tow, it was a truly life-changing experience too. When and if I am ever brave enough to return to Seoul, I will make sure it is a cultural trip to see more of the amazing sights and learn from what such an amazing city has to offer. It is certainly a place where dreams come true and money is spent very quickly. I can't wait for Round Two...

(All Seoul photos: by Claire Keet)

Never forget...

Sometimes, when I sit in the teachers' office in the mountains of Gyeonsangbuk-do, unable to communicate or to escape, I wonder if the world has forgotten me here in the middle of nowhere?

But then I remember a song from Stellenbosch days, a song I hold so dear. Even if everyone forgets, the memories remain with you always...

"It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
Until it was a battle cry

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before

All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Until they're before your eyes

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye..."

(Regina Spektor - musical genius)

My Epic Trip from Daejeon to Pohang, Sunday 20 March – An UNNECESSARY schlep

After a rather splendid Saturday, spent braai-ing on a rooftop with wonderful friends in Daejeon and a good party at the legendary Cocoon club, I was looking forward to a stress-free return trip to my little town, Heung-hae, just north and inland of Pohang city. As with most things in “Dynamic” Korea, this was not to be the case.

We all woke up late on Sunday morning feeling rather awful actually. It was clearly a successful South African braai, wasn't it? A friend, Helyn, was going back to Gyeonsan. Because this is "half" on the way to my city, I thought I would break the journey by going some of the way with her and then going the second half on my own.

We arrived at the train station at 2pm after the worse and longest cross-city bus ride of my entire life. It was about 90 degrees Celsius on the bus and we were wearing coats, carrying bags and pillows. There was not a centimetre of space to work with either. Apparently, everything happens on Sunday mornings in Daejeon? We didn’t know where to put our bags and everyone was looking at us really strangely (firstly because we are foreigners and secondly, because we were carrying one million items). I won’t be carrying a pillow with me ever again. It was clearly a societal failure!
It is truly ironic that the day you really feel like sitting down, you have to stand up, and you have no idea where you are going and the bus is swaying from side to side as if you were on the sea in a storm.

What we also did not bargain for was several trains being sold out or the fact that the train times would not suit our exact needs. “Oh, why,” I asked Helyn, “is that train to Pohang at 5pm and not 3pm?”
The earliest train we could catch to Gyeonsan was at 3 o’clock. To pass the time and to feed the hangover hunger, we stepped into the little “Asian food” restaurant and bought the Korean version of chicken curry and of course, rice. As a tantalising little side order, we were given…kimchi (fermented cabbage). Koreans eat this famous national dish with every meal, absolutely EVERY meal. Yum! I had to politely push mine off the tray for fear of it ruining my meal entirely.

At around 2:45, Helyn and I trundled off to the train platforms. Our tickets showed a large number 3. Naturally, we assumed we would be leaving from platform 3. We arrived at the platform at 2:55 and almost patiently waited for the train which had cost us a pretty 15 000 won (over R100) to acquire, I might add. And that was only getting me halfway home, remember?
I just had a funny feeling that we were not in the right place. I told Helyn to check with a guard closeby who shook his head violently and pointed in the opposite direction. We were, in fact, leaving from Platform 6 and had to run up some stairs, down an escalator (while squeezing past some annoyed train-catching veterans) and find our carriage number along the platform. We somehow managed to do it in exactly three minutes and arrived panting (and cursing the Korean rail system) with two minutes to spare. How we did it, I'll never know. But I sure was ecstatic! It is amazing that happiness can be so easy.

We had a rather pleasant train trip back to Gyeonsan (Helyn's hometown). Then came the subway trip, of course. I felt like I was in England again except everything was in Korean. Thanks be to goodness that Helyn had done this part of the trip before. We managed to arrive at our destination without much stress apart from the intense "cabbage" smell the entire 30 minutes. Someone on that train was NOT well inside.

After exiting the subway station, we had to navigate our way to the bus station where I would catch my bus to Pohang. At 18:20, I said a fond farewell to Hells Bells and hopped on the bus. A mere 1 hour and 40 minutes later, the bus stopped at Pohang Intercity Bus Station. What relief to be closer to home. At 20:10, I climbed onto my last form of transportation, (you guessed it...a bus) to my town of Heung-hae. In one day, I had used every available form of public transport in Korea. I suppose I should view this as a positive point?

Nevertheless, arrival time at 105 Dreamville, my apartment: 21:00. Seriously? Seven hours to travel 300km? Next time, I will most definitely be going the direct-3-hours-on-a-bus route, won't I? NO DETOURS ever again...sorry Helyn!

My eternal South Africa optimism returns...

After a restless, rehearsal-filled weekend of hating the world, I came to work on Monday to face a pile of paperwork and listen to the endless stream of unhappy callers. By 9am, I was on to the 40th caller and so very over it. Whilst humming along to one of Algoa’s finest tunes, “It’s just another manic Monday, wish it was Sunday…”, the phone rang for the 41st time. I picked it up reluctantly. It was not a query, however, this man was from the police, the Uitenhage Police.

Warrant Officer Smith*: Good morning, I am looking for Francis, Philippa Jayne?
Me: Yes sir, I mean, Officer.
Warrant Officer Smith: I think we have found your car.
Me: Oh my goodness.
Warrant Officer Smith: But it is in Uitenhage.
Me: Where?
Warrant Officer Smith: We found it in Motherwell. And we know who the thief is. He ran away.
Me: What does the car look like?

Warrant Officer Smith and his Uitenhage men had indeed found my car (later identified by the owner-on-paper, Jayne Turner) in Motherwell minus a petrol cap, cubby hole and a few other accessories. And he said that even though they had done a good job of “messing up” the ignition, I “could probably drive it again one day”.

Now this doesn’t sound much like excellent news but the fact is: SAPS members found my car in two and a half days. Mom was given the job of driving to Uitenhage to identify the Blue Bomber. She recognised her immediately despite the changed number plates and muddy interior. The costumes are long-gone though and the costume hire ladies are furious! Hopefully, I will be able to claim a little money from insurance and offer a token gesture.

Now will follow the lengthy process of insurance assessment and claims to have the car fixed. It should be an expensive experience. But I digress from my praise of the police. When I walked out of the office on Friday afternoon, I phoned my mother who phoned stepdad, Brian, who phoned the police. At 5:30pm, the Walmer Police had arrived at my home to take a statement. We all discussed the slim chance of ever finding the car whole. Surely, it had been stolen for its parts? The two Walmer officers referred me to Humewood Police Station because my claim would be processed more quickly.

I reported the theft at 10:30am on Saturday morning. By lunchtime, I had been texted a case number and confirmation that the theft had been circulated in police circles. That evening, an administrator phoned to check if I had received my case number and gave me some contact details of the Warrant Officer in charge of the investigation. On Monday, my car was found. And the thief has been caught. He is probably sitting in Uitenhage jail.

A pretty efficient process, if you ask me. I was lucky. And my belief in South African society had edged back up the ladder just a smidge.

*The Warrant Officer's name has been changed for obvious safety reasons.

Goodbye to my friend the Leopard

My little Opel Kadett was stolen on Friday somewhere between 07:50 and 16:30 outside my workplace. I walked out after work to find it gone.

Besides the obvious financial inconvenience (very limited insurance and R5,000 worth of hired costumes in the boot), it is the sentimental value of the car which is important and the most upsetting. My sense of security has been violated.

The Blue Bomber, or the Blue Leopard as it is more affectionately known, would be 21 next year, an awe-some feat for any car. They sure don’t make ‘em like they used to, do they? I get stopped at traffic lights, petrol stations, shopping centre parking lots and cricket grounds by funny-looking creatures all offering to buy my little Opel: “How much you want, lady?”

I was driving home the other night around 9pm. Whilst waiting at a red traffic light in a not-so-nice part of town, someone starting hooting loudly and very close to me. I turned to the car next door, a 4x4 Isuzu monstrosity, to see a man gesturing wildly out of his window at what seemed to be my tyres. I simply couldn’t be sure. I ignored him. But the robot remained as red as ever.

Next, there was a tapping at my window. Now, I was scared. I looked to see the same jolly man shouting through my passenger window: “You have such a ‘kewl kar’ lady. Come on, how much you want?” I left tyre marks when I sped off with the green light, leaving the 4x4 and the scary man in my dust.

I know how cool and reliable my car is, dude. That is why I am still driving it!

I am reminded of the most recent Tracker advert. A little baby is rescued from the back from the back of a stolen car, thanks to Tracker of course and she, in turn, is afforded a lifetime of memories. I, too, have an entire timeline of good and bad times in the bomber imprinted in my mind.

When the car still belonged to Granny Pixie, I remember traveling in the backseat with the smelly dogs from Port Elizabeth to Port Alfred for holidays at the beach shack and being dropped off at tennis tournaments in the December holidays. Granny was always a sophisticated smoker and I remember her having the odd puff in the Blue Bomber. On rainy days, when the car leaks a little, one smells the faint odour of cigarettes and times gone by. Once, a lighter, left on the dashboard, exploded from the heat. My Aunt Pat thought we were being shot at and made my brother and I duck under the seats.

We have always had at least one bomber running in the Turner household. When I was just a wee babe, Brian had a little red backfire of a machine, Mom had a mustard-coloured Escort when we were in Swaziland (I have forgotten to ask how it got from Port Elizabeth to Swaziland and survived for a couple years after that) and then followed the Toyota Cresida, the best car we ever had. Fifteen years later, the Cresida was still our family car carrying around the rather large five children. In my first year at Rhodes, tri-varsity was being held in PE. The Cresida bomber was in the garage for repairs, and so Brian made use of the Blue Bomber to fetch four of my friends on his way through Grahamstown to join me and the festivities at NMMU.

When I obtained my driver’s license (some people are still shocked that this was allowed to happen), I was permitted to take the Bomber with me to Rhodes when I moved into a house share. This resulted in a little extra freedom; Lillies trips to the beach when I should have been studying for exams, trips to PE via Nanaga farm stall for tennis league and watching cricket at Manley Flats. I coached tennis at St Andrews during my Rhodes career. The boys used to fight over who could have a lift back to hostel in the ‘limousine’, which was soon re-named by them as the Blue Leopard, stealthy as she was quick.

In February of 2008, Dad and I made the trip to Stellenbosch in the Bomber. I was off to complete an Honours course. It was 35 degrees Celsius. The Bomber obviously has no aircon; we sweated the whole 12 hour trip. But the Bomber nearly died too. We thought she would definitely overheat. We stopped regularly for re-hydration breaks for all three of us. At Stellenbosch University, I added hundreds of fantastic Blue Leopard moments to my memory bank; early morning drives to Jonkershoek, picnics on the river, trips to Cape Town with my new flat mate and getting very stuck in the traffic after a free Celine Dion concert.

And over the last two years, the Bomber, in a new era, has been carrying my brother Tristan to school and to varsity, to Barneys and to tennis, to friends and to fun. Man, we were all hoping she would last another ten years. There is no way we can afford another car. But more than that, I will miss the Blue Leopard for all the wonderful memories. She has just always been there.

Really wish I’d had Tracker…