Cambodia

How to begin my trip to Cambodia and Thailand…

First off, for all of my friends and family who actually read this and haven’t spoken to me in the past year, I’M REALLY SORRY for neglecting the blog. Around September of last year, I was “not fired, but I could not come back” to my old school, Elite. The school was really struggling for money and I was the most junior teacher. So, for financial reasons, (and they found out I was teaching the kids about where to get a hotdog for a quarter after midnight and phrases like “God, Country, Notre Dame.”) I was "politely" asked not to return to school after my vacation in Japan last year. I am still extremely bitter about this as I lost a rather large chunk of money from it and I was treated very disrespectfully. However, a new leaf was turned, doors opened, blah blah blah and here we are, a year later. I was able to find a job in a timely fashion in an area very close, and very central in Seoul. Scholar Academy is a private school that teaches high school age kids who are planning to attend university in America. All of my kids are completely fluent in English and for the past year, I have been teaching English Literature, Language and Philosophy. The management of the school is American and I have been infinitely lucky with how my situation this time of last year has panned out. SO LUCKY, in fact, to have been able to afford an amazing trip to Southeast Asia…. Which is really what everyone wants to hear about. So without further ado…

I have divided this into different sections of the blog for reader convenience and it was too long for me to figure out how to post pictures with this size of post:

1. Cambodia

2. Bangkok

3. Koh Tao

Read some, read all, read none. I care not, but reader beware, I’m off my blogging game, so this may be a bit dry until I get my blog-mojo back.

We’re off to Cambodia.

A friend here once said to me, “Cambodia is my happy place.” An interesting sentence, but what does that mean? I hear that and I immediately think of the magic thought that was so elusive to Peter Pan (portrayed by master of the screen, Robin Williams) when he was trying to remember how to fly in the American 1991 classic Hook. One thought that can send him soaring through the air. As I traveled through Cambodia, even though I was only there for a short time, this became more and more true. Cambodia is a land that has been wrought by wars and genocide, subjected to cruel, abusive rulers, and plagued with disease and famine. But everywhere I looked, everyone I spoke to, every day I spent with them, the vibrancy and beauty of the people overwhelmed me. Mind you, the sadness and despair of a country with mountains of hardship to overcome was brutally ubiquitous. But through the sadness and despair, I saw the spark of determination; and I was buoyed with respect for the beautiful people of this beautiful country.

A few years ago, I spent a few months living and working in New Orleans. I saw the same type of spark. A city completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Everywhere you looked were not just buildings, but former offices, shops, and homes that still bore the signs of water damage. I could literally see the level to which the water rose, settled and then receded. Most buildings still had the spray paint marks from when the coast guard searched the house after the storm. Driving through the streets and looking at houses was a crapshoot. One house was rebuilt and a car in the driveway, and to either side of it: abandonment. I lived in that city, worked with its people, and helped its children. One question kept occurring to me: why? Why return? Why come back? The answer is simple, but noble. This was home; they had roots; and for them, the question was: Why not? Why not come back? This spark of determination is the same spark I recognized in Cambodia. In New Orleans, it would have been easy to stay with your aunt in Texas or your grandparents in Alabama; but people returned and rebuilt. Think about the efforts that have gone to restore New Orleans to its former glory. Billions of dollars, thousands of volunteers. Cambodia doesn’t have anything near the amount of aid or resources that Americans have; yet they, too, fight. Every instance of contact with a native Cambodian, I felt humbled. Every time I stopped and asked for directions, was approached to buy a bottle of water, asked if I needed a taxi or some postcards, I was humbled. The resiliency of these people is something I came to envy and admire.

Now that I’ve really set the upbeat and lighthearted atmosphere…

I arrived in Phnom Penh from Seoul around 9pm and found a tuk-tuk from the airport to my first hostel of the trip. A tuk-tuk is like an open-air taxi. It’s a motorbike that has a covered seat attached to the back; not the safest way to travel, but cheap and fun. I was only in Phnom Penh for the next morning and the rest of the first full day in Cambodia was spent on a bus, making my way to Siem Reap.

What I saw of Phnom Penh was lovely. The buildings definitely have strong French influence in their architecture from when Cambodia was a part of the French Indochina colony. Immediately outside of Phnom Penh is all rural countryside until Siem Reap, where the temples of Angkor Wat are located. The countryside is breathtaking. Looking out of both sides of the bus was a postcard shot the entire way to Siem Reap. The landscape is luscious and pure green, the trees tall and houses quaint.

I arrived in Siem Reap in the early afternoon and easily found my hostel. The tuk-tuk driver from the bus station to the hostel was named October, a name he had chosen to adopt because Westerners, like myself, always disfigured his Khmer name. He was also my driver the next two days around to all the different temples. Accommodation, food, drink, internet, laundry and literally everything you need backpacking through Cambodia is available for about a dollar. The room was about 6 dollars/night, breakfast 2 or 3 dollars/morning, internet free in most restaurants and cafes, laundry was a dollar/kilo. October charged 10 dollars a day to drive me around to all the temples. He dropped me off at the entrance of a temple and just waited for me to take my time looking around and taking pictures, and then take me to the next temple. As affordable as any vacation is going to be.

The temples themselves were astounding. The oldest temples are Hindu and the, not newer, but less old temples are Buddhist. To the untrained eye, some of these temples are just piles of rubble, architectural child’s play in today’s world. However, these temples were built between 800 CE and 1400 CE, which is, give or take, about 1,000 years ago. The scale, size and complexity of the temples, and the surrounding cities were technologically impossible during their time. Actually walking through the temples was like reconnecting with people over a thousand years ago. The thought occurred to me, “Someone put these stones here and someone worked tirelessly to create what I’m now standing in, and that someone existed over a thousand years before I was born.” What could give you more perspective than that?

The temples of Angkor number in the thousands and I saw maybe ten over two days. The first day of temple exploration was spent on the bigger temples, Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom and a few others. I spent the second day touring the smaller temples. What’s most striking about these temples is not just the absolute mammoth size but also the tiniest carving details. Many of the stones used to build the temples were built to the Hindu god Vishnu or Shiva and the engravings on almost every stone are not just impeccably detailed but surprisingly well-preserved.

Each path to and from a temple was lined with dozens upon dozens of women and small children trying to sell visitors anything from bottles of water to postcards to bracelets to paintings. Obviously, I wanted to buy water from every single one of them not just because I wanted each of them to have one of my dollars, but also because Cambodia is HOT. I mean, HOT. And air-conditioning is proof that God loves us. But seriously, it was hot. So hot that I was humorlessly considering moving to Alaska.

Anyway, I have two stories to share about these precious children who were trying desperately to sell me things. The first was a very brief encounter with a small girl. As I was walking through one of the temples a few girls came up to me with dozens of small trinkets, trying to entice me to buy one of them. Almost immediately upon arriving in Siem Reap, I became really well acquainted with the “welcometomcdonaldsmayitakeyourorder”-Cambodian equivalent of “Hello pretty lady, you want bracelet? You want water? Cold water, I have cold water?” From a very young age, these children are taught to speak conversational English in order to sell things to tourists. They know their numbers, hello, where are you from, and so on. I passed this particular group of girls, trying my best not to get sucked in and then I came upon the smallest girl of the whole bunch. She was half-hiding behind a tree whispering to herself in the tiniest voice, “Hello pretty lady, you want postcard? Ten for one dollar. One, two, three…” and so on. But it didn’t sound like that and her eyes were following me as if she were working up the courage to approach me. It sounded like “heyo prey lay, you wan poseka? Ten fo un dolla, un two ree…” and so on. She had the most innocent eyes as she followed me walking and then I heard her say it over again, but she got the numbers out of order. Then she got the look, as if she had just farted in church, and then started over again. I wanted to give her a big hug and say, “Here, take all my money. And take the credit cards too. Actually, I don’t need these shoes; they’re too big for you, but you’ll grow.”

The second story happened on the second day as I was exploring one of the smaller temples. Of course, approaching the temple, there was a handful of girls trying to sell me things. In my mind, I had already decided I would buy a painting from one little stand and the girl there saw me looking. “Pretty lady, you’re so pretty. Pretty painting for pretty lady!” I said to her, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak English.” She looked at me like I was an absolute idiot, “Why you say you don’t speak English; you speak English to me right now!” And the way she said it was hilarious, almost like she was annoyed at me for saying something so outrageously stupid. And she was about 12. I don’t know if you’ve ever been spoken down to by a 12-year-old, but it’s a pretty great experience. So she starts asking me where I’m from and what’s my name. And I kept saying things like “I wish I understood you, but I can’t because I’m not from America and my name is not Meg and I don’t speak English!” The smiles she gave me were priceless. Finally, I said, “Ok, I’m going to go visit the temple, and when I come back, if you remember my name and where I’m from, maybe I’ll buy something.” So she said, “Go! You go. You come back. I remember. You go. You come back. I remember.” I went. I came back. And she remembered. As I browsed the paintings to see what I wanted, she gave me a coke, a chair to sit in and she started playing with my hair. She asked me what my job was and I told her that I was a teacher. She looked at me and she said, “Me too. When I get big, I want to be a teacher.” I felt my heart break a little; I smiled and I said, “Good. We need smart teachers, just like you.”

The next day I headed to the border town of Poipet in a taxi. It was only about an hour drive and the time flew as my driver was queuing up such hits as “Grease Lightning” performed by Danny and the T-Birds from everyone’s favorite musical Grease and “Separate Ways” from late (late as in later, not deceased) 70’s American rock band Journey. Two must-haves on everyone’s Road Trip playlist.

Bangkok

The border itself was a bit nightmarish. No one in uniforms, old, worn out signs that were not in English and no lines. But there were lots and lots of people. Going everywhere. It seemed that everyone was trying to get to exactly the opposite of where they were, and in the most unorderly fashion possible. After looking every which way (including up) to see where to go, I found the emigration officer who stamped my passport and then sort of waved his arm toward everywhere except behind me. At this point, all I knew was that I had to go somewhere. Good work, Meg! I started taking the approach of “I’ll walk this way until someone yells at me, and then I’ll walk in a different direction. If no one yells at me, I’m not doing anything wrong.” And it worked out really well. I found the immigration lines to get into Thailand, all of my papers were in order and got my travelers’ visa, no problem.

Here comes the super fun awesome part. Probably my most embarrassing traveling moment ever. After getting through the immigration queue, I had to get in a line to have my bag inspected. Now, as I’m sure all of you are aware, I am a lady and all ladies have a monthly visitor to host, whether they want to or not. Long story short, they found my stash of tampons and were looking at them just like Derek and Hansel tried to figure out a computer from the 2001 thriller Zoolander. The woman inspector, who, by the way, was waving through every single Thai or Cambodian person who came through the line without even a glance inside their bags, was immensely puzzled about why I would have these strange little items. I tried explaining in broken English, but I challenge any of you to get this message across successfully: I need those for my lady issues and if you take those away from me, I will die! After she called over everyone who was working at this place (about 5 or 6 officials), I think someone either deemed them harmless or figured it out. In the end, they let me through and as I left the line I looked behind me to see dozens of other foreign travelers fighting back the giggles. Thanks, Thailand!

The town on the Thai side of the border is Aranyaprathet and finding a bus from there to Bangkok was fairly easy. After exchanging some dollars for baht, I hopped aboard a bus that was about 6 hours to Bangkok. I arrived at a bus station in Bangkok and got a tuk-tuk to my hostel. The hostel was clean and air-conditioned, and located right next to a train station. After an entire day of traveling, I found food and slept like a baby.

I had only one day to spend in Bangkok because I had a flight the next day to the southern province where all of the islands are located. I slept in a bit and then set off in the morning to find the famous reclining Buddha and then like dominos falling, I ended up having one of those days that does not go according to plan but was still pretty awesome. After about 5 minutes of walking while trying to find the reclining Buddha, I was staring at some street signs wondering what they said when a man who spoke English approached me, told me there was another temple worth seeing, very close, and no tourists knew about it. He took my map and started explaining to a tuk-tuk driver where to go. I shrugged my shoulders and went with it. He also told me to tell tuk-tuk drivers I was a student so I could get a discounted rate. Thanks Random Helper #1!

The driver took me to a temple, with a reclining Buddha, not THE reclining Buddha, but really impressive nonetheless, it was very close and there were zero tourists. RH#1, you are awesome. There was an old man working in the temple and he fussed over to me and gave me a handful of Thai pennies and told me to work my way down a long line of bowls, bowing and putting one penny in each bowl. He was very bossy so I shrugged and went with it. Afterwards, he insisted he take my picture with the reclining Buddha, let me explore a bit and then I left and entered the second building of the temple.

This Buddha was in the traditional seated position and there was a man already in there praying. I did not want to disturb him so I quietly tried to admire the temple without his attention. He finished praying and he soon became Random Helper #2. After the customary “where are you from? Oh! America! LA? New York? Chicago? Ah, Chicago! Chicago Bulls! Michael Jordan!”, he proceeded to mark up my already marked up map of Bangkok, saying I should go here, and go there. He recommended a market that was only open for a week out of the year and today was the last day to go. So, I shrugged my shoulders and went with it.

This “market” turned out to be wholesale jewelry. Each piece was on sale for face value and the price of labor was subtracted. Evidently this means that all of it was really cheap, but I can tell you how much time I have for wearing a bracelet that costs more than my school loans: none. But it wasn’t a total waste because there was a souvenir shop on the top floor and I did some shopping up there. Buying handmade scarves for about 15 USD seemed more my style.

After this, I returned to the hostel and booked a dinner cruise trip on the river that goes through Bangkok for that evening and then napped. The dinner on this dinner cruise trip was awful, although they did have kimchi, but the views of the city were pretty spectacular. Bangkok is a lot like Seoul, but dirtier. Packed with people, lots of traffic, but with all the signs of western influence, like a McDonalds, Burger King or Starbucks every so often. But the pollution in Bangkok is a lot worse than Seoul. I felt the congestion as I breathed just walking around. But, just like Seoul, when the sun goes down and the lights are turned on, it was transformed into a city of sparkling buildings and bridges.

After the trip on the river, I again slept really, really, really well in my air-conditioned room.

The next day, I figured out how to get to the airport via the Skytrain, an above ground express train system that is quite new in Bangkok. It took about a half hour and cost me about 30 cents. The flight left at around 2 in the afternoon, arrived in Surat Thani about 3 in the afternoon and then my ferry to Koh Tao left at 11pm. I had about 7 hours to kill before the ferry. 7. I can’t really tell you how I managed to pass the time, but card games and meeting new people were involved.

Koh Tao

There are three main islands off the east coast of southern Thailand, Koh Samui, Koh Phangnan and Koh Tao. I chose Koh Tao because after all the research, it was the only place that wasn’t described as a drunken, Dionysian, cesspool of debauchery. Koh Tao is named so for its turtle-shape and has yet to be as developed as other, more popular islands. Part of the reason for this underdevelopment is that it is the farthest from the mainland port city of Surat Thani and it takes a long time to reach. The particular ferry I took lasted 8 hours. The journey can be made in about 4-5 on the nice, luxury line ferry, but I was feeling adventurous… and the last one of those left before my flight landed. So I was stuck on the 8 hour ferry from hell. The ferry is a cargo ship that slowly chugs between the mainland and Koh Tao every night from 11pm to 7am. The upper deck of the ferry was divided right down the middle and passengers were entitled to a width of about 24 inches and a pillow of about 8 inches. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all and my face was a lovely shade of green as I arrived in Koh Tao.

Getting off the ferry, I was ambushed by taxi drivers all wanting to know where I needed to be taken. If I had done my research correctly, I could have walked to my hostel so I wearily waved them away… and then walked the wrong way. At about 7:45 in the morning, after backtracking and then finding that the hostel I did book was out of my price range, I settled on the one next door: the Blue Diamond Dive Resort. I found food, relaxed and settled into the next 11 days like I was born to sit on a beach.

The rest of the trip was filled with beach time. And then a little bit more beach time. The sand was almost white; the water was a clear turquoise; the sun was bright, but not too hot. This is my definition of paradise. The bungalow I was staying in was about a 30 second walk from the beach and the timing of my trip was perfectly situated at the end of the rainy season and before the busy tourist season. Perfection.

A few of the fun things I did on the island:

Snorkeling. I went snorkeling three times. Koh Tao is known for its clear reefs and deep water diving sites. It's a popular destination for travelers wanting to get their divers' certification. I, however, barely able to doggy paddle from A to B, forewent having meters and meters of water between me and open air. A lovely alternative is snorkeling, which I enjoyed thoroughly. The fish were gorgeous. Some were yellow, others were electric blue and some were both. I felt a bit like Dr. Seuss. Big fish, small fish, red fish, blue fish.

Water taxi. One of the days, I decided to take a boat taxi around the entire island to see what else there was. I had previously tried to bike around the island (it is that small) but there is not yet a paved road that goes all the way around. The bike trip ended quite quickly when it became unpleasantly clear to my hamstrings that the island wasn't flat. My hamstrings had a word with my lungs and the other organs you need when you exercise, and they decided that a better option is to pay someone to take you around the island in a boat. You know that I'm going to say it was beautiful, but I'll say it anyway. It was beautiful. So much of the island is undeveloped and there were only 2 or 3 more bays that had been built upon. I stopped about halfway around the island and snorkeled for a bit and had lunch. This particular bay had pure white sand and the most breathtaking flowers and trees. You know that God had a great day when He created this. It was probably the same day He invented football, escalators, peanut butter and the food delivery service.

Muay Thai boxing. Muay Thai kickboxing has a 400 year old tradition. It began as an unarmed combat method used by soldiers. It has become known as the "Art of Eight Limbs" because they can punch, elbow, knee and kick. I saw a poster on my first day on Koh Tao advertising an event that would be eight fights. It was in an open-air boxing stadium and nearly the whole island came to watch. The first fight was between a 10 and an 11 year old. Before the fights, each fighter performs his own ritual of bowing and walking around the ring. The fights themselves varied from young boys dancing around each other for 10 minutes to fully grown machines of muscle drawing blood and and bequeathing unconsciousness. It was an incredible experience.

As all times spent on beaches, sipping drinks with little umbrellas end, the date of my departure came too soon. The trip back to Bangkok for my flight home was uneventful and surprisingly quick. The 7 hour bus up to Bangkok was air-conditioned and they showed cinematic masterpieces such as The Prince of Persia and Salt. The best part of this leg of the trip is that the last 10 minutes of The Prince of Persia was in Russian.

Back in Bangkok, it was a quick taxi to the airport and then some sitting around until my 1am departure. I connected through Beijing and then was back in Seoul around 11am.

Similar to my time in Japan, I felt great relief when I returned to Seoul. Finally, back in a land where I could actually read the squiggles on buildings and signs, understand what people are saying, and for the first time in 20 days, I didn't have to wander around trying to sort out which bus to take! I got the bus back to my neighborhood, came home and took a nice, hot, long shower. I was so happy to be back in the land of kimchi, elbowing on the subways, and McDonald's delivery.

Meg Survived Japan!

First and foremost, I am alive!!!!!!!!! I seriously thought that Japan was going to kill me. I am deathly afraid of traveling alone in a country where I don’t know any of the language. I am rather comfortable in Korea because I can stumble through directions with the minimal Korean that I do know. But Japan… a completely different story, like Korea would be Green Eggs and Ham and Japan would be The Iliad in the original Greek text. Actually, once I got out of the smaller cities, communication eased up a bit. And, Japanese people are exceptionally friendly. I thought Koreans were really nice, but oh baby; every Japanese person I asked for help went really far out of their way to help a foreigner out. Maybe it was the huge sign I had on my forehead that said “I’m about to have an anxiety attack if I don’t make it to my train on time,” but I can recall about 14 situations where the rules were bent or someone went about 17 miles out of their way to help me. Color me the most appreciative shade of gratitude possible.

Mimicking my first blog post where I had anything and everything to write about, I’ll break this down into easy to find/read/browse sections.

1. Kyushu (the southern island that I explored with Kathy)

2. Hiroshima

3. Kyoto

4. Mt. Fuji

Interesting sidenote: I kept track of my different modes of transportation and I’m pretty sure the only one missing is a paddle boat. From start to finish (leaving my apartment and arriving back in my apartment) I took a total of:

5 taxis

7 trains

2 ferries

16 buses

4 cars

1 streetcar

1 bike

7 subways

2 scooter/moped/motorbike type dealios

Public transportation and cell phones are two things that Asia kicks our butts at.

1. Kyushu – is the southernmost 4 islands of Japan.

Moving on… So, I left my apartment last Saturday morning at the crack of 6:15 in order to catch the train down to Busan where I caught the ferry to Fukuoka in Japan. Everything went smoothly. I met up with Kathy that night in Kumamoto and we did what friends do. The next day we explored a little bit of Kumamoto, which is the small town where she lives and teaches English, charming little place. The first thing I noticed about the difference between Japan and Korea is that the buildings are shorter in Japan. Everywhere you go in Korea there are dozens upon dozens upon dozens of high-rise apartment buildings. Japan, I guess, is a little bit more spread out. Now, compared to America, everything is still miniature but Japan has just a little bit more elbow room.

Anyway, after that, we rented a car and took probably the most beautiful drive I’ve ever experienced around a small island named Amakusa. There is a small coastal highway that traces the edge of this island and we spent a good few hours following it. The land itself was full of lush green forests and outlined by steep tree-covered cliffs along the water. Breathtaking. The island was dotted with quaint little rural hamlets. We finally found a very small, very private beach where we enjoyed a dip in the water and watched the sunset over the water. Probably the coolest thing about the day was that on the drive home, we pulled over to the side of the road to stargaze for a good 15 minutes and the sheer number of stars we saw was staggering. It very much reminded me of clear nights in the Mile High city.

Also on the drive back, we stopped at a restaurant to grab some dinner. Neither of us is that picky so we just randomly chose a place where the lights were on. Looking at the menu, Kathy can read some Japanese and she keeps saying, “Fugu this, fugu that. What the hell is fugu? This is fugu something, that’s fugu something. It’s all fugu. What is this fugu?” So we ordered something that looked tame off the menu and Kathy looked up “fugu” in her iPhone. As luck would have it, fugu is blowfish… As in, the stuff you can die from if it’s not prepared carefully. Suffice it to say, we survived to tell the tale.

2. Hiroshima!

The next day I set off for Hiroshima.

I got into the Hiroshima train station and put my bag in a coin locker and went off around the city. There is a very large park along the river that runs through the city and there were zillions of memorials, statues, plaques and commemorations for/about the victims of the atomic bomb.

The Peace Memorial Park rendered me lost in an incredible mixture of inspiration, heartbreak, sadness and guilt. It would be a rare thing indeed if you saw a dry eye anywhere in the park. I am afraid to cheapen the experience with words of my own, but all I can say is that this beautiful city was once utterly devastated by the worst weapon that man has ever created. Instead of jumping to retaliation, the city has rebuilt, recovered and still stands as a modern beacon of survival. This city has become devoted to the pursuit of peace and the entire park is centered around the idea of dismantling these weapons. The Flame of Peace (couldn’t get a picture of it) burns around the clock and will only be extinguished when the last nuclear weapon is destroyed. To the right pictured here is the Children's Peace Monument. The top is a statue of Sadako Sasaki holding a folded crane in her hands. Sadako was a young girl who died of radiation from the bomb. She believed that if she folded 1,000 cranes, she would be saved. There was so much to see and I took too many pictures to post here, but track me down when I return to the States and I’ll be more than happy to share more.

After I wandered around the Peace Park for a few hours I headed back to the train station to meet up with my couchsurfing host. Now, some readers may need an explanation behind couchsurfing. Couchsurfing is a social networking website for travelers seeking a night or two of cost-saving accommodations. It works on a “give and take” principle, meaning that if you travel and use couchsurfing.org then you should offer your couch to other travelers who may need it. Now, since this was my first time using it and I pretty much planned my entire week of Japan literally days before I went, I have yet to “give” my couch to any travelers. But, it’s a great way to get off the beaten path, mingle with city folks, get away from the touristy places and see a bit of the real Hiroshima, or wherever it is that you’re traveling to. Of course, one has to be extremely cautious about safety and there is a system on the website that allows travelers and hosts to leave comments, references and feedback about fellow couchsurfers. I was very careful about choosing who my hosts were and I can honestly say I have zero regrets about using it. I recommend it to any adventurous, money-conscious traveler. It was especially helpful for me because I was traveling alone and being able to “touch home base” with someone who spoke fluent English was immensely comforting.

Anyway, my host in Hiroshima was a kindergarten teacher from Indiana (I chose a fellow hoosier on purpose) and was extremely hospitable, nice, clean, generous and so on. We ate a few Japanese dishes that I had not been introduced to. One was fermented soybeans called natto (spelling to be confirmed, but that’s how it sounds.) I’m not in any rush to have these again. It’s not bad, but it’s definitely an acquired taste type thing, like coffee, beer and salt and vinegar chips. We also had some spicy fish egg, and this was my reaction. Again, I’m not in any hurry to have that again.

I slept fantastically that night and woke up early to catch my train to Kyoto!

3. Kyoto! Famously recognized as the cultural center of Japan, Kyoto is saturated with history, culture, temples, shrines, museums, old buildings and cobble-stoned streets. The people in this city are so friendly.

I arrived in Kyoto and again left my bags in a coin locker at the train station and set off exploring. The picture to the left is the Kyoto train station. It was humongous. The stairs I took a picture of go up 12 flights; there was a stage there at the bottom for some sort of concert; there was a department store to the left there; and then the actual train station. My first stop was the information desk where an extremely helpful and fluent English speaking lady pointed me in the right direction. Now, before arriving in Kyoto I knew that I wouldn’t have lots of time, but that I didn’t want to overwhelm myself with whatever I chose to see. I had received a tip from a friend about something called the Path of Philosophy that goes between two temples. Back to Meg-ucation 101, would Meg pass on something called the Path of Philosophy? Enough said. So the path started at Ginkakuji Temple and meandered down south a bit, past numerous shrines and smaller temples, and ended at Eikan-do Zenrin-ji Temple.

Ginkaku-ji Temple, at the start of the walk, was sadly under extensive renovation. However, the grounds around it were still open. The Zen Temple and surrounding gardens are built into the side of a mountain. This is one of the most famous landscaped Japanese gardens and it was just breathtaking. Its sand garden is famous, and huge. Here are two pictures of the garden, the one that looks like an upside down bowl is supposed to resemble Mt. Fuji. The other is a wishing pond, the bottom of which was glittering with coins. The rest of the wooded grounds were covered in different types of Japanese moss, carved with little streams and ponds and outlined with a small wooden-planked walkway. Beautiful.

After spending about an hour here, I began the Path of Philosophy. It sounds more epic than it was. It is named so because a famous Japanese professor of Philosophy would walk up and down this path and just get really smart. Or something. I felt slightly profound after my walk, so maybe it’s true. But the treasure that waited for me at the end of the walk was by far the best part of my lone exploration of Kyoto.

Eikan-do Zenrin-ji is a Buddhist temple and there was no one else there. No one. Not a single tourist. This was phenomenal. Amazing. Awesome. Lucky. I removed my shoes before entering the maze of wooden walkways connecting about a dozen buildings and the woman who was greeting people told me I could go watch the Buddhist monks perform a ceremony. I said, “Wow, are you sure it’s okay?” She said, “Hai, hai. Go go. No sound and no picture.” So, timidly, I stepped into a massive one-room wooden building with thick, tall wooden pillars, incense burning, candles winking, golden tapestries and ornamentation and about two dozen monks. Their ceremony was like a perfected, well-rehearsed dance of low, restful chants, light methodic taps on gongs and perfect movement around this huge room. I watched for a while and then continued to explore the grounds completely alone with the monks’ chants accompanying me in the background. By far, this definitely was the best part of Kyoto.

My couchsurfing host in Kyoto is absolutely the most hospitable, generous, and sharing man. His name is Tomonori (Tomo) and he runs an English kindergarten, speaks fluent Japanese, English, Spanish, Italian and he’s learning Chinese. He also owns a backpacker’s hostel in Kyoto. That night we commandeered some bikes from the hostel he owns and rode to Gion, the district that’s famous for its really old, small streets and buildings. This is where people come to try and spot geishas too. And guess what, I saw one! She was gorgeous and moved like a swift breeze through a forest. I wasn’t too quick with my camera, but I’ll never forget it. This picture is Kyoto at night.

Tomo’s friend owns an antiques shop and this is the second coolest thing that happened in Kyoto. His friend’s wife let me try on an old-fashioned style kimono! Of course she picks the hot pink one, which as you all know is totally like omg my favoritest color of like, all time. Anyway, she was so nice. Extremely nice. Like suffocatingly nice. She kept asking me if I wanted her to buy me coffee or if I wanted her to find me a boyfriend. You know, typical hospitable nonsense. I did manage to get some good pictures of me in a kimono. I attracted a small crowd of passersby who stopped to stare at the crazy foreigner in a hot pink old fashioned kimono.

After I tried on the kimono, we went to have sushi for dinner. The fact that it was delicious goes without saying. It was incredible.

I slept fantastically on Tomo’s floor with a few blankets and a crazy textured Japanese pillow. It seriously felt like someone was constantly tickling my face with a feather that night. The next day we visited one of the more famous temples in Kyoto, the Kiyomizu-dera Temple. It’s one of the most famous Buddhist temples in Japan and in 2007 it was one of 21 finalists to be chosen as one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. It was beautiful but Tomo and I only had about 45 minutes to explore it and there were hundreds of school kids there on field trips. I still got some great pictures though.

Aaaaannnnnddddddd for the grand finale we’ve all been waiting for… It wouldn’t be a complete Meg-venture if there wasn’t some sort of hike involved. Go big or go home right? I decided to as big as you possibly could in Japan – MOUNT FUJI!

4. Mount Fuji! After leaving Kyoto, it took a train and 2 buses to get to the base of the mountain. Well, technically it’s not a mountain; it’s a volcano. I met up with my college buddy Dan and his friend Amelia at Mishima and then from there we took a bus to the base and arrived around 8:30PM. Now, you can imagine the planning I did for this. All I had was hiking gear that I’ve used in Korea. Dan actually researched recommended timelines and whatnot. As it turns out, we were supposed to leave in the early afternoon and get halfway up, stop, sleep a few hours and finish the hike the next morning in time to see the sunrise. You can see where this is going; I don’t even have to say it. We hiked the entire night. To be quite honest, the hike going up wasn’t that bad. Since we had decided to forego sleeping at all, we took our time getting up the mountain. We took breaks, ate granola bars, chocolate; at one point Dan and I got some ramen at one of the stations. Before we knew it, the path was thoroughly congested with other hikers who had been smart enough to stop and rest and joined us in the wee hours of the morning to reach the peak.

Once everyone emerged to join the hike, it was pretty slow progress. I got a smidge frustrated, but slow and steady wins the race, right? At any rate, we reached the top with about a half hour to spare before sunrise. I took about a billion pictures of the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. Mount Fuji is 3,776 meters, which is over 12,000 feet for those of us non-metric Americans. I think being up that high and seeing the sunrise over a horizon that’s so far below you was incredibly breathtaking. This was one of those moments when I was reduced to childlike awe of what I witnessed.

The way down zigzagged through dusty volcanic ash and was extremely harsh on the knees. I actually thought the way down was much more difficult than the way up and I was breathing in all of the ash that people were kicking up. Most unfavorable. But when all is said and done, I looked back at the peak I had just conquered and I simultaneously felt uninhibited pride and humility.

The way home was a blur. I had to take 2 trains back to Fukuoka. Even though I left the mountain at around noon that day, I got into Fukuoka around midnight. The hostel I had made a reservation at had a midnight curfew so I was locked out. Consulting my trusty dusty Lonely Planet Japan, I found a 24 hour internet café where I paid the 1500 yen (about 15 USD) for 8 hours of internet, free food and beverages, a shower and if I had wanted to do laundry, there were even laundry machines! Quite the bargain. So I paid for my cubicle with a small bed and computer, caught up on some correspondence, drank some tasty pineapple-mango juice and got a few hours of sleep. I woke up early to catch my ferry back to Busan and then it was a peaceful 2 and a half hour KTX ride back to Seoul.

I highly recommend Japan to any traveler. But my caveats follow here: don’t rely on credit cards. If you go, make sure you exchange all you need before you enter the country. Japan has a cash based economy and it doesn’t take an Einstein to get used to how the money works. Secondly, traveler beware, Japan is the most expensive place I’ve ever been. I tried not to take any taxis, but I had to take one from the internet café to the ferry and a 10 minute ride was about 25 USD. Thirdly, learn the basics of the language before you go. I’ve said this elsewhere in my blog about Korea, but locals are far more likely to help you if you attempt to “participate” in their language and culture instead of just assuming the “visitor” role that many tourists embrace. This is one aspect of living in a foreign country that I will never stop preaching. Even if you are just traveling, part of respecting a different culture is attempting to understand it. Even just learning how to say “thank you” and “where is….” goes so far when you need to ask someone for help. This is the difference between being a visitor and a participant. Many Koreans don’t understand why I want to learn Korean so badly because everyone in Seoul can speak enough English to get me by, but that’s not the point.

Officially stepping off the soapbox.

Once I was back in Seoul Station, I found a taxi driver who was willing to drive me all the way to Jamsil and we started haggling about the price. At the end of it, he told me that my Korean was “bery good!” It was then that I really felt relieved and like I was back home.

Just a few gems that my students have recently produced. One from the infamous Greg, who deftly penned the pirate anecdote, and one is from Jina, probably the sweetest child in Korea. She consistently doesn't do her homework and pretty much the only reason she gets away with it is because she smiles at me.

A journal entry about what Greg has seen in the news:

I saw news. A world highest money watch were 2300000000 doller. I can't believe it. There are stopwatch timer. I wan't to bye it. But I don't have money like that.

I looked up at news. A adult is 51 cm. I saw it's real!!! It's real! He is 4.5 kg. Doctor look and said brain broke so his too short. He liked to sing and dance. I has amazing to see that.

And now a paragraph from Jina, the assignment was to write about someone who is helpful to you:

My helpful Person is Mrs. Megan. She have some earrings on her ears. Also she have long brown and black hairs. She have some freckles on her face. She have some brown eyes. She is from south Amarica. She is our english teacher. Mrs. Megan is strong. She has curly hair too. She is kind teacher and she is pretty and she is very cleaver person. I like her a lot!!!

In other news, I've been spending quite a bit of time on the football pitch. I've been having some dreams in English accents because everyone I play with is British. I finally scored twice last night in the season ending game of our Wednesday night league. Everyone I play with says "fellas" and "lads" and a few have now started calling me "fellette" and "ladette." Happy to be included says I. Although I love playing and I'm playing at every chance I get, it's been really challenging to hold my own out there. Reasons include but are not limited to the facts that: I haven't played regularly in ages, I'm the only girl on my team and everyone else is a few years older, stronger, faster and male. Nonetheless, I'm pretty sure I'd qualify as clinically insane if I didn't have this healthy release of stress.

I have also decided for my week of vacation at the end of August to visit a ladyfriend, Kathy, who is teaching English at a small school in Kumamoto, Japan. There is a ferry that goes from Busan (at the southern tip of Korea) to Fukuoka which is pretty close to her. Cost effective and hey, who doesn't like ferries?

Apologies for the scant post, but to all, I love you and miss you.

America, the Beautiful and MUDFEST!

Holy Crap! It's been a looooong time. Let's assume that I've apologized for and explained my absence from the blogosphere.



Now, on to the goody goodness.


Between the last post and today, a great many things have transpired. Not the least of which was a trip to the land where everyone speaks English and charades is not a prerequisite for communication, where you can walk into restaurants with your shoes on, where the national food does not look like someone violently slayed a cabbage, the land of Chipotle, and best of all, where I am just another average American and no one stares. How joyous! You can probably, and correctly, guess that I was more than ecstatic to go home for a treasured 7 days and see my family, friends and my nephew Alex. The flights from Seoul to Atlanta and then from Atlanta to Chicago lasted for about 17 years in Meg-time, but were thankfully uneventful and safe.



Sidebar: If you haven't guessed, I love America, however, it has to be said that America sometimes seems to operate on a principle of counter-productivity. Exhibit A: the Atlanta airport where there are menial tasks being done for no reason or purpose other than to waste my precious minutes in America. Upon arrival in the Atlanta airport, all international travelers (there were hundreds of us) had to go through a passport/visa checkline type dealio. Literally, streams and streams of people were lining up to get through this checkpoint. The hordes of people in line stretched out of the immediate waiting area, around the corner, down the street, across 4 tarmacs and all the way to Alabama I'm pretty sure. When I got to the front of the line, I found that there was no shortage of checkpoint desks, but there were only three open. Three. Out of about 40. America! After that I had to proceed to a baggage claim area, even though I was not at my final destination, go through customs where they didn't do squat to my bag and put it on yet another conveyer belt located approximately 20 feet from the first one. Yay exercise in futility. Luckily, I made it to my connection with about 14 seconds to spare. Thanks Atlanta!


I arrived in Chicago, safe, sound and exhausted. Mom, Dad, Chris and Hannah were there waiting for me and my eyes have never been happier to behold such a sight. After some leftovers from Ditka's restaurant as a midnight snack, I crashed hardcore in hotel-pillowy-blankety-goodness. The next morning we had a delicious lunch at Maggiano's downtown (savory meal in America#1; also, pictured to the right, me and Daddy on Father's Day), hit the outlet mall in Michigan City on the way home, got a flat tire (yay AAA!, also American, if you didn't know), and made it home for dinner with Annette and Alex, who is running and crashing all over the place. Booger be curious!

The remainder of break consisted of lunches and dinners at my favorite places around South Bend (savory meals in America #2-23, approximately). I visited the old stomping grounds on campus, went to the bookstore for the sole reason of buying The Shirt and discovered that it looks like someone vomited, ate peas and then vomited again. I stopped by FYS to say hi to Elly, Mrs James and the new front desk workers. I almost reverted back into my "First-year-of-studies-office-can-I-help-you?" ways when the phone rang, but then again, maybe not. I met up with good friends, ate good food, and even made it to Oyster Bar and Corby's.

I saw everyone I wanted to see (Pam, Marty, that most definitely includes you two, Ju, Bryan, Mike.) I ate everything I wanted to eat (feta, Chipotle, but not together, Maggiano's, Five Guys, Mommy's cooking *sigh* and more). I did everything I wanted to do (shopped for jeans because everyone in Korea weighs about as much as a toothpick, so jeans that fit my rather curvy curves are hard to come by and fitting rooms even harder to come by). I even went to Target and got shoes on sale! yay meg.

The flight back was direct from Chicago to Seoul and I made friends with a Chinese man next to me who was trying to learn Korean and English at the same time. Knowing what battlefields learning Korean as an American and learning English as a Korean are, I responded with, you are most brave good soldier; I tip my hat and best of luck to you sir.

Operation Visit America, Eat Chipotle and Smother My Nephew With Kisses: SUCCESS.

Now, back to Korea. Some have told me that culture shock doesn't really register when you first immerse yourself into a new country. Rather it hits when you go back home. Some say that you don't come back the same person to your native land and people expect the same Meg, but they get a different Meg. I don't know about all that, but I do know that returning to Korea after being pampered in luxurious Englishy comforts for a week was a bit difficult. I know that living here is challenging what with the whole not speaking Korean thing, but I discovered that I had grown very habituated to daily life being an uphill battle. It was not until I had gone home and subsequently returned to Korea that I realized how much I missed effing English. English that sometimes doesn't make grammatical sense, English-speaking people who get my terrible jokes, picking up bits and pieces of dumb peoples' conversations and having a private chuckle to myself. I am immensely enjoying my time here, but home is home and I don't think I'll ever belong anywhere else.

Joking aside, it's time for the serious stuff: MUDFEST. Read: literally a festival of mud. No, really guys, it's a festival of mud. A fest o' mud. Hence, mudfest. This wondrous event, it appears, was concieved upon the notion that if you make mud, zillions of foreigners will come play in it. And that's exactly what we did. We boarded a bus from Cheongju at 8am Saturday morning, by 1030 we were covered head to toe in mud and splashing around in the ocean. Besides the DJ Festival, best time in Korea so far. Literally, throngs of foreigners and Koreans come together and engage in mud centered activities. Painting yourself with mud, mud wrestling, mud obstacle courses, mud throwing, mud slides, and most important: MUD. Mudfest is held at (보경)Boryeong Beach and this little ocean-side town on the west side of Korea opens its doors and turns on its hoses for thousands of muddy, irresponsible young'ns. Oh, to be young and at Mudfest in Korea. Seriously if you're going to come to Korea, plan your vacay around Mudfest. Mudfest mudfest mudfest. Get the picture? (but really, the picture is of one Philip George Drendall with one polychromatic peabrain sporting not only mud, but a bonnet and dress as well.)

I was skeptical about how much fun it was going to be. The cost was a bit more than I was willing to pay and I wanted to make sure I got my money's worth. Let's just say I was reimbursed in fun-dollars with interest.

Besides these diverting activities, I've been teaching (DUH), playing some futbol (which is a subject for another blog post, perhaps very soon or when I happen to get pictures of my team), eating lots of kimbap and just living the life in Seoul.

Until next time lovers, friends and lovers of friends.

Acupuncture??? and Seoraksan!

Hello all! My, my, it has been quite a while. After a few requests of an update, this is what I've come up with.

Subheadings for your perusal ease: 1. Funny anecdotes, 2. Acupuncture, 3. The Adventures of Seoraksan

1. Funny anecdotes:
Creepy old drunks exist in Korea too!
So, being in Korea automatically elevates Americans to some sort of freak celebrity status. People stare at my light skin and light eyes constantly, everywhere I go. This of course is exacerbated when a bunch of Westerners are in a bar. I was in Cheongju a couple of weekends ago with some friends and we went out to a bar where there were darts, foosball and general diversionary indulgences. Somehow we managed to attract the attention of some sufficiently sauced old Korean men at our highly spirited foosball game. Now, I'll just come out and say it: I'm terrible at foosball and I never claim to be otherwise. However, the powers governing our merry activities graced me with some baffling foosball-savvy skills, but just enough to keep the game interesting. Eventually, it was more than evident that anything good I was doing was an arrant accident, which in turn, caused one of the aforementioned inebriated old Korean men to edge me off the table. I must also point out that I'm pretty sure the only word he knew in English was "Hey!" So, berated by waves of "Hey!" I ceded my place on the table and faded into the background to relocate with friends at another table... Only to find that 3 minutes later he.. surprise! had found us again at our new table in the bar. Unable to shake this cheeky bozo, we deferred to our Korean friend to tell him to leave us in peace. When this didn't work, he started yelling "Hey! Hey! Hey!" at me and emphatically pointing at random things in the bar. Despite repeated efforts to distract him away from us, we ended up just running away with an old man screaming "Hey! Hey!" at our trail of dust leading away from the bar. Good riddance.

This next story comes from one of my juniors' classes and it has to do with my 남자친구 or boyfriend. In one of our classes we were reading a persuasive paragraph about why kids in school should read Johnny Tremain. This life-changing paragraph was accompanied by a picture of Paul Revere riding a horse through town. This, clearly, screams Napoleon, or it does to an 11-year-old Korean boy.

"Teacher! Napoleon! He is your boyfriend!"

To which I responded, "Eddie, first of all, that is NOT even close to being Napoleon. You have the wrong time period and wrong country. Both forgiveable mistakes since you've probably never even had a history class. Secondly, Napoleon is dead, it is impossible for him to be my boyfriend."

"Teacher, it is ok that you don't have boyfriend. You are inexhaustible* romantic; you will find someone someday."

.... Thanks for the gems of wisdom Eddie. Everyone close their books. Pop quiz.

2. Acupuncture???

First off, I have decided to put my body through hell and train for a marathon this coming October so naturally I've been doing a good amount of running a few times a week. A few weekends ago, my foot started to bother me and it was around the arch of my left foot, which made me favor my right leg quite a bit. My director at school noticed that I was swagging around and suggested "traditional Korean medicine." And conveniently, we have a "traditional Korean medicine" clinic on the fifth floor of our building. Yahoo for me. So I'm thinking to myself, there has to be some semblance of "traditional Korean medicine" to "proven, scientific, legitmate medicine" and they're not going to kill me... right? so, why not?

So I head up in the elevator with my Director with me to translate and I'm led to a little bed made of heated, steaming tiles. They make me lie down and "relax." Before you know it, I've got needles in my foot, shin, right hand and head.

Now, it was all pretty tolerable.. except for the needles in my foot. (Sidebar: do you know why you're so ticklish on your feet? It's because there are about 17 bajillion nerve endings down there. End sidebar.) Can you imagine needles in your body? Stomach, back, thigh.. perchance, maybe, all right, perhaps, okay. Now, needles where you have approximately 17 bajillon nerve endings?!?!?!

To which I replied, "Expletive**! That expletive hurts!"

Here comes the comic twist: I actually found it pretty relaxing and therapeutic. I have no idea if it actually helps or whatever, but it was dirt cheap with my health insurance so I went back a few times. No big deal.

3. Seoraksan!

OK, here comes the fun part. Drumroll please: ..................... ANOTHER HIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Before you stop reading, please advise: This one was no run-of-the-mill hike. Normally, it's pretty formulaic; ie., base of the mountain, find the path, hike, pictures at the top, and back down the way we came. go home. yahoo for meg. To this I heartily scoff, "Child's play! Couch change! Candy from babies!" You get the idea.

So, on the fly, Phil, Lucci and I decided to hike up 설악산 (Seoraksan). We made this decision Friday night. By Saturday morning at 7am we were on our way to the bus station to hop a 5 and a half hour bus ride to a town where we'd take another bus to another town where we'd stay the night in a minbok where we played hours of gin rummy where Meg was the sole contender for third place. I'm getting off track.

Anyway, we got the bus out of Seoul, no problem. But there was oodles of traffic to fight through and we made it to 양양 (Yangyang) at around noon-ish. We stopped for some lunch and then caught a bus to 오색 (Osaek), the town at the base of Seorak where we'd be starting from. The plan was to hike up Saturday, and stay the night at the shelter at the top of the mountain and then hike down the other side of it on Sunday. However, when we got there, there wasn't enough daylight to be able to finish the first leg of the hike that night. What was the backup plan? I'll tell you, eager reader: Find a minbok in Osaek, sleep for 2 hours, get up at 2AM and do the entire hike on Sunday.

buuhhh.... what?

It seemed like an epic plan doomed to epic failure, which for some epic reason was destined for success. That doesn't make any sense. I know.

The timeline is as follows:

1:47 AM- awake from our slumber, arise from our sleep, the new day is NOT yet dawning, and no one was weeping. (if anyone understands that, I'll give you a cookie.)

2:15 AM- leave minbok with eyes barely open

2:15-2:45 AM- wander around in the dark with tiny, but powerful, flashlights trying to find the entrance of the park

2:53 AM- commenceth the hike of death with about 50 of our closest Korean friends. Apparently we were not the only ones with the bright idea of getting to the peak to see the sun rise.

2:54 AM - Phil and Lucci charge ahead in lieu of being weighed down by the womenfolk. This actually turned out pretty well for me because I decided to keep pace with a nice man and his girlfriend for the rest of the way. We went pretty slowly but didn't take any breaks, save one where the woman gave me about a bottle and a half of 막걸리 (Makkeoli) which is an alcoholic beverage that hikers like to drink. It's not very strong and actually tastes pretty good. It's rude to refuse something that's offered, so I merrily accepted.

4:00 AM - The man I was hiking with explained to me that he was hiking slowly because he had injured his knees and ankles while golfing and politely inquired, "Why are YOU hiking slowly?" I had no response.

4:30 AM - He theorized that when I was young I got very sick and because of this sickness I had a smaller than normal heart, and that this is why I was hiking slowly. (nervous laugh/doubtful gaze...)

6:00AM - I reached the top! I found Lucci and Phil almost alive at the shelter at the top; ate some tuna and rice, rested for about a half hour... and then began the descent.

Now, the rest of the day was actually very pleasant and scenic. The 5km ascent was pretty steep, which is why it was so hard for me. However the 8km descent was just lovely. The beginning of it was almost straight down but before very long we were following waterfalls through a gorge the rest of the way down. I was dead tired, but I managed to take some pretty good photos and a video. You'll notice from the pictures that it looks as though someone doused us with buckets of water. We'll just pretend that's the explanation.

The way home was a bit of a blur; I was not even close to using coherent thoughts, speech or logic. It's two days later and I'm still in a haze. Nonetheless, let it be known that I, Meg Paladino, conquered Seoraksan, crippled by a smaller than normal heart by a debilitating childhood disease and plagued by Korean alcohol! Against all odds, I took some damn good pictures!