2014...as it relates to 2015

The Akashic Records. Okay, no, not really. It's actually Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland. (Photo courtesy of navitascoach.com)

Once again it's time for my customary look back at the previous year, and a peek ahead at what's to come next year. Without further ado, here's a list of the things I accomplished in 2014: 

•  brewed a bunch of beers with the guys, including a lip-smackin' ginger IPA
•  completed The Art of Manliness's 30 Days to a Better Man challenge (January)
•  submitted a query, along with 10 pages of my manuscript, to Ace & Roc Science Fiction & Fantasy in January; sent in the full manuscript in August; rejected in October
•  took a trip to Sapporo, Hokkaido in February
•  rode the train through all the way through Japan (took a full day and then some) 
•  said farewell to Adam in Busan
•  moved to Gangnam-gu in March
•  got my appendix out in May
•  sent my full manuscript to Baen Books in June; rejected in December
•  traveled through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and Hong Kong from July 12 to August 7
•  took the Reunification Express through Vietnam, from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City
•  ate lo mai gai, bun cha, banh mi, and pigeon-heart pho in Vietnam
•  traveled across Cambodia by bus, and ate khmer amok and beef loklak
•  drank cocktails at the top of Bangkok's tallest building and watched a thunderstorm
•  took the train from Bangkok to Butterworth, and hung around in the Hong Kong Bar on Penang Island, drinking cheap Tiger beers and talking to Chinese, Brits, Russians, and Brazilians 
•  rode a miserable bus through Malaysia
•  spent a hot, humid, overpriced weekend in Singapore drinking eponymous slings and riding open-top buses (and the Flyer)
•  met up with Miss H in Hong Kong and spent four lovely days there, eating Hokkaido ramen and Moroccan lamb and MSG-laden Cantonese and English beer (and going to Disneyland)
•  saw Miss H go back home before me in September
•  moved into a oneroomtel in Gwangjin-gu that same month
•  finished reading Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina in November
•  read The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, The Terror by Dan Simmons, Ghost Train to the Eastern Star and Kowloon Tong by Paul Theroux, Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks, Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, The Korean War: A History by Bruce Cumings, Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad, Dune by Frank Herbert, The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut, The Book of Wonder by Lord Dunsany, and some other stuff
•  found the best burger in Seoul (at Bartwo, a beer-and-burger pub in Oksu-dong)
•  ...and the best Mexican in Seoul (Gusto Taco, near Sangsu Station in the Hongdae area)
•  tasted seolleongtang, makchang (large beef intestines), fermented soybean paste, hoe deopbap (raw fish over rice), chicken bulgogi, shrimp gimbap, and barbecued ox hearts
•  ate at the Casablanca Sandwicherie in Itaewon (lamb chili sandwich and a Berber omelette, yum!)
•  completed the shooter challenge at Gecko's Terrace in Itaewon, and now have my name inscribed on a brass plaque above the bar with the following motto: Bibo Ergo Sum
•  discovered Jack White, The White Stripes, Jeff Buckley, Sky Sailing, Cage the Elephant, Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane, and Miles Davis
•  took up pipe-smoking and honed my appreciation for good pipe tobacco (with a nip of bourbon or rye)
•  completed another NaNoWriMo and took my first steps toward becoming a paperless writer 
• started two new novels and abandoned a third
•  submitted ten short science fiction stories to Clarkesworld, Analog Science Fiction & Fact, Asimov's Science Fiction, Space Squid, Daily Science Fiction, 3LBE, and Fiction Vortex (all rejected)
•  joined Twitter (11 followers so far!) and revamped my blog and Google Plus pages (to build my writer's platform)
•  added some delicious dishes to my cooking and baking repertoire, such as chicken piccata, vegetarian lasagna, penne pasta with vodka sauce, New York cheesecake, and stuffed bell peppers
•  wrote and submitted pieces to ElectRow magazine
•  went to the HBC Festival and drank beer and ate doner kebab
•  rode my bike all the way to Gwacheon 
•  walked from Gwangjin-gu to Itaewon 
•  walked 10 miles in one day 
•  went to the Leeum Samsung Museum of Art
•  hiked Achasan and Yongmasan
•  hiked Namhansanseong, the ninth of Korea's UNESCO World Heritage sites I've seen (out of 11 total)
•  tried the hamburgers at Fire Bell, Libertine, and Left Coast
•  visited the doctor about some heart palpitations, and started taking magnesium supplements for excessive stress
• on a related note, I lost 20 pounds between August and December
• visited a buddy in Gunsan, North Jeolla (and rode first class on the KTX back to Seoul)
•  planned a wedding in April 2015 (my own!)
•  scored an interview with a tech start-up in Las Vegas 
•  made dozens of new friends in seven countries
•  finished my final semester at Sejong University
•  prepared to depart Korea on January 7, 2015

And here's what I hope for 2015: a job in January, a wedding with the love of my life in April, a wedding in England (congratulations, Jeff & Jenn!) in July, Wasteland Weekend in September, a literary agent by December, and burning off the rest of my gut at the gym. And keeping it off. Twenty pounds gone already, as you saw above.

Postie out. 

Hong Kong, day three

As of Tuesday, August 5, I'd built up an impressive store of alcohol in Room 2504 of the ibis North Point Hotel. I nabbed a small bottle of White Horse blended Scotch the first night, and there was a bottle of Gambler's Gold (the Hong Kong Brewing Company's golden ale) and some Magners cider in our mini-fridge also.

I was sitting pretty.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

We awoke quite late and had a languorous breakfast at the hotel buffet: Danishes, toast, noodles, baked beans, runny scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, sausage, pancakes, bacon, potatoes, fruit, yogurt, congee (rice porridge), cereal, tea, coffee, orange juice...everything but blood pudding. Miss H and I had were pigging out on it every morning. It cost about HK$66 ($8 US), so we had to get our money's worth. 

We were foiled in most our plans today. We wanted to ride the cable car or trolley or whatever up to Victoria Peak, but last night Jeff had warned me that it would be crowded as hell up there, and the lines would be ridiculous. We thought next of taking the open-top bus tour, but upon arriving at the terminus at Central Piers we discovered that it cost HK$400—fifty U.S. dollars a pop. No way, Jose. We briefly considered the Star Ferry harbor tour, but that was eighty-three U.S. dollars. Rather dejected, we went back to the hotel to regroup. I polished off the cider and the Scotch and felt mighty fine.  

We dined at 6:00 p.m. at a marvelous little Sapporo ramen restaurant a couple of doors down from the hotel. For just a couple hundred HK dollars we had dumplings, beef tongue, tonkatsu curry with rice (Miss H), and a big heaping bowl of Hokkaido ramen with pork (me). Great guns—I'd heard Hokkaido ramen and its light brown miso-laden broth was the shiz, but but the reality blew me away. Best ramen these lips have been privileged to taste. Can't wait to get back to Sapporo and have the real deal.  

Not my photo.

To keep the Japanese theme going, Miss H and I boarded the streetcar and rode to Burrows Street to visit the Hokkaido Dairy Farm "Milk Restaurant." Not sure what their gimmick was—I guess all their dairy products came from Hokkaido, and all their food was cooked with it. I'd read that Hokkaido ice cream was a delicacy in Hong Kong, and unlike most "delicacies" which interest me, this was something Miss H could sample too. We had a vanilla sundae with chocolate and adzuki bean sauce—superb. 

For kicks, we stepped across the road and into the Wellcome supermarket to get a look at what Hong Kongers mow down on. There was a staggering array of western foods, including Cadbury's chocolate—nearly impossible to find in other Asian countries and nonexistent in Korea, much to all my English friends' chagrin. I bought one of the Cadbury's bars, a Double Decker bar ('cause I'd never tried one), and a bottle of Laoshan, Tsingtao's upscale brand.

Then we rode the tramway home, dumped everything in our room (and I drank my Gambler's Gold), and went back out and around the corner to a gaming arcade we'd spotted on the second floor of a high-rise. We played at racing games and basketball tosses and a couple of rail shooters, burning through HK$35 in an hour. Then we came home, showered, and collapsed into bed. A fantastic thunderstorm hit just as we turned out the lights, and we laid there, tangled up with each other, watching the flashes and counting the seconds, until we drifted off to sleep.  

the bridge on the River Kwai

...as seen on TV.

After lunch, it was off to the River Kwai bridge, made famous by both a book and a movie, which I've read and seen respectively. In actual fact, the tour turned out to be 50 minutes at the perplexingly planned and poorly cared-for Jeath War Museum, and about 10-20 minutes on the actual bridge itself. 

What does this have to do with British P.O.W.s dying horribly?

And the bridge wasn't even the "real" bridge—that got bombed out by the Allies during the war. (The museum had mistakenly depicted American jet bombers attacking the bridge in a large painting on one wall.) The bridge I stood on that sweltering Saturday of July 26, 2014 was built entirely by the Japanese as part of their war indemnity. 

The whole thing felt half-assed, to be frank. There were some cute little leopard cubs at a petting zoo nearby, so there was that. 

big trouble in little Thailand

Paul Theroux was right. We have a tendency to judge every place we go by whether we could stand living there or not. There are few places on my list, believe it or not. One of them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, is Sapporo, Japan. Fascinating spot. Beautiful in summer (I hear) and absolutely enchanting in winter. I finally found a place that gets the epic, biblical, phantasmagorical amounts of snow that everybody who lives in a wintry place always brags about to newcomers and out-of-towners. Something to do with the moist winds from Siberia meeting the frigid Sea of Okhotsk...or the frigid winds from Siberia meeting the moist Sea of Okhotsk, or something. I dunno. But it's a pretty town in a pretty valley with pretty mountains and pretty dang fun to spend a few days in, the more I think back on it. I sure wish I could live there for a year (at least) and get to the bottom of its charms. 

...not to mention all the world-class sushi, beer, and venison I'd consume, or the skiing I'd do, or the ban'ei events I'd watch, or all the Russia I could see from my house. 

Anyway, I find that Hokkaido and its legendary snows are crossing my mind more and more as the Korean weather heats up. It's getting warm and muggy out there. Every day I step outside my door, give my best Charlton Heston squint, and then walk to the subway through a hot, bright, hazy city that would do the film Soylent Green proud.

I can only imagine how it's going to be in Southeast Asia as I trip through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore and Hong Kong during the peak of summer. 

Well...maybe not Thailand. 

Have you been keeping track of what's going on down there? 

Source: The Times. 

That's right, it's a military coup. Another one. Thailand seems to have a yen for coups. The last one was in 2006, I believe. I'll spare you all the details, because that shit is readily available online, including the link under that picture of all them stern-lookin' Thai military dudes up there. You can get the rundown from somebody else. All I want you to do is sit right there in that chair and listen to my First World Problems. 

Did they have to have a bloody coup in Thailand just two months before I'm slated to travel by train through it?  

I think it's about time I shared with you the itinerary for this big Southeast Asia train trip I've been yapping about for weeks. It'll make this bitchfest easier. Plus it'll make my mum quit worrying about exactly when and where I'll be. So here you go:

 Saturday, 7/12: Gimpo to Shanghai by plane (there to spend the night partying)

 Sunday, 7/13: Shanghai - Kunming - Nanning - Hanoi by plane

 Monday, 7/14: explore Hanoi, catch the 11:00 p.m. night train to Ho Chi Minh City

 Tuesday, 7/15: slow train through Vietnam (pass Huế at 10:30 a.m.)

 Wednesday, 7/16: arrive in Ho Chi Minh City at 4:30 p.m. 

 Thursday, 7/17: HCMC

 Friday, 7/18: HCMC

 Saturday, 7/19: HCMC to Phnom Penh by bus

 Sunday, 7/20: Phnom Penh

 Monday, 7/21: Phnom Penh to Siem Reap by speedboat

 Tuesday, 7/22: Angkor Wat

 Wednesday, 7/23: Siem Reap to Paoy Paet by bus (Cambodian-Thai border); Aranyaprathet to Bangkok by train

 Thursday, 7/24: Bangkok 

 Friday, 7/25: Bangkok

 Saturday, 7/26: Bangkok

 Sunday, 7/27: Bangkok to Butterworth by night train

 Monday, 7/28: arrive in Butterworth; ferry to Penang; explore George Town

 Tuesday, 7/29: George Town

 Wednesday, 7/30: Butterworth to Singapore (train departs 8:00 a.m., arrives same day)

 Thursday, 7/31: Singapore

 Friday, 8/1: Singapore 

 Saturday, 8/2: fly to Hong Kong at 1:30 a.m. 

 Saturday, 8/2 - Thursday, 8/7: Hong Kong with Miss H

I planned this minutely. The timing has to be just right. It's a journey of nearly 9,000 kilometers, and I have social engagements in Ho Chi Minh City and Hong Kong which I need to arrive on time for. I haven't reserved my train tickets yet, but a few days ago—before the news of the coup broke, back when this was all just a bunch of Thais in red shirts rioting—I finished booking my hotels. All of them. Even the one in Bangkok. Argh.

I don't know what to do now. Should I cancel my hotel reservation in Bangkok and reserve a flight ticket from Cambodia to Malaysia? Fly from Phnom Penh to Kuala Lumpur, take the train north to Butterworth and do my Penang thang, and then go back down to Singapore by train and meet Miss H in Hong Kong for her week-long summer vacation? Or do I stick with the original plan and hope things cool down in Thailand between now and late July? As I've previously pointed out, coups are nothing new down there. Last week the BBC pointed out that Thailand has seen 12 coups since 1932. I'd venture to suggest that, compared to places like Libya or Somalia, Thailand is remarkably stable despite such frequent upheavals. On the other hand, dire warnings from the U.S. State Department (and, I anticipate, my own parents) will urge me to reconsider my travel plans and skirt the country altogether. 

Grmf. I don't know what to do, and I don't like it. Guess I'll just have to use the Polaroid approach: keep an eye on the situation and see what develops. 

Postie out. 

the death of Neo-Confucianism in Korea...?

All eyes are once again on Asia this week, President Obama having wrapped up his four-nation Asia tour (leaving hearty Filipino protests in his wake) and the Sewol disaster fresh in everyone's minds. However, yet another disaster—or near disaster—in South Korea has stolen the public eye. 

You might have heard about the subway train accident we had this Friday. QiRanger does a very thorough video update about it here, where you can get all the facts.

I'm not here to debate particulars, cast blame or express relief that everyone aboard those two trains survived. I'm not here to tell you that I travel on Line 2 all the time and could have easily been involved in the accident. (I have, actually, been aboard a Line 5 train that braked so hard and so unexpectedly that all six dozen people in the car with me went sprawling like dominoes, and I wound up flat on my back with a rucksack full of booze under me and my livid fiancée on my stomach.) 

I just want to say two things. 

First, subway accidents in Korea never happen. They are the exception, not the rule. Korean railways are tightly and safely run. The Seoul metro is one of the cleanest, safest, most efficient and easiest-to-use metropolitan light rail systems in the world, despite being one of the busiest. Its safety record was, to my knowledge, flawless up to this point. There was a nasty incident in December 2013 when an inexperienced train operator filling in during a strike ordered the subway doors closed too early, and an 84-year-old woman was dragged a short distance and killed. Oh, and the Daegu subway fire ten years before that, I suppose. But those were freak occurrences brought on by circumstance: a vengeful cab driver and an unschooled scab, as it were. This recent subway accident took place during regular hours, and wasn't caused by a mass murderer or a strike. It just happened. I would have said it was impossible.

Second...you may be witnessing the death of Neo-Confucianism in Korea. 

An Hyang (1243-1306), widely
considered to be the founder of
Neo-Confucianism in Korea.

As I discussed in my previous post about the Sewol sinking (which I linked to above), Korea's guiding star has been the Neo-Confucian model ever since the early days of the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1910). Some of Confucianism's central tenets are filial piety, respect and reverence, loyalty, and shame. It is unthinkable to disobey or show disrespect to one's elders. There is a very strict social hierarchy wherein each individual is classified according to age, experience, seniority, and other factors. Someone who's above you on that scale deserves the highest respect; anyone below you is yours to command. 

And in fact, this system, which served Korea well throughout its long and often brutal history, was just what caused the deaths of so many children during the Sewol debacle. The children and other passengers were told to stay put in the cabins and corridors, and bowing to the captain's lofty position and experience, they obeyed. Unfortunately, the captain proved to be an incompetent and untrustworthy coward, and many children met their fates as a result. This event, as I noted in my blog post about the sinking, has shaken Korea to its roots, particularly the younger generations. Many in Korea seem to have begun to doubt the worth and universal applicability of Neo-Confucian values. 

Nowhere is this growing doubt more apparent than in the subway train passengers' reaction to the drivers' instructions in the moments following the collision at Sangwangsimni Station. They were told to stay put, and hardly any of them listened this time. Quite a number of passengers pried open the train doors and leaped down onto the tracks and into the tunnel.

Now there's something I never would have believed possible. Korean folks disobeying instructions from a competent authority? Prying open doors and leaping onto train tracks? Anarchy!  

Does it mean that the Neo-Confucian underpinnings of this country's culture and society are beginning to erode? Only time will tell, but I think the signs are there. Goodness knows what will happen if I'm right. A complete paradigm shift might be in the offing. You may rest assured that I'll keep an eye on things over here, and let you know if I see anything noteworthy. 

But now you must excuse me. I have a four-day weekend to get back to. Children's Day is Monday and Buddha's Birthday is Tuesday. Two unrelated lunar holidays in a row. That never happens here, either. The unexpected double-whammy has convinced all the foreigners on the peninsula to throw a grand Cinco de Mayo bash. Colored lanterns are strung up all across the city, Seoul's high society are turning out in droves in their best tailored suits and tulle skirts, and the Americans and Canadians are getting blitzed in the bars and staggering around Itaewon wearing sombreros in broad daylight. Me, I'm taking introspective walks by the Yangjae Stream and meeting friends from out-of-town for a bite of Thai-Japanese fusion and a sip of beer. Oh, the expat life. 

Postie out...

upcoming jaunts in 2014

Good morning, hangers-on! And ain't it a fine April day? The sun is shining, the kkachi (magpies) are screeching love songs, the yellow dust is nearly gone, one of my students told me I've lost weight and I'm almost over the 24-hour bug I caught. Time to plan some trips.



So I went through the Korean calendar and I found out that 2014 is the year of three-day weekends. Here's a list I compiled of holidays (and the potential trips which might accompany them). I might not be traveling overseas for every little break I've got here, but it's intoxicating to contemplate the possibilities. So here you go:

1. May 3-7 (Children’s Day, Buddha’s Birthday): nothing planned, as it's probably too late; though I might see if there's a last-minute deal for Taiwan or something, just for me. I have five days, but Miss H and Miss J have four. Ha-ha. [blows raspberry]

2. June 6-8 (Memorial Day): Miss H and I were thinking about Jeju Island. We need to jump on the web tonight and book tickets NOW, though.

3. July 12-August 10 (my summer vacation): my big trip. I've shelved Mongolia for the moment, as it seems all the good stuff there is really far apart and requires guides and prepaid tours to access. I'll have to save that for later. But I'm still going to do Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and whatever country Miss H and I decide to visit for...

4. August 2-10 (Miss H's summer vacation): she and I still need to work this out. And fast. Hong Kong might be too small to sustain a week-long trip, so we're thinking Japan—Kyushu and southern Honshu. We could see Miyajima (its sacred torii gate which seems to float upon the water at high tide); Kyoto; Nara (Japan's ancient capital); Hiroshima; Nagasaki; Kagoshima (known as "the Naples of Japan" for its smoking volcano, tropical climate and hot-tempered locals) and other stuff. Yeah, I like that idea. Maybe we could even visit a hot spring and Miss H could sample her first capsule hotel. It'll be my third trip to Japan, but there's still so much I haven't seen.

5. August 15-17 (Liberation Day): another three-day weekend. Might have to be used for a rest period, understandably. But if Miss J's summer vacation lines up with it...that's a different story. Hong Kong anyone?

6. September 6-9 (Chuseok): four days. Always tricky to travel over Chuseok, as that's precisely what the other umpteen million Koreans (and a lot of Chinese folks as well) are doing. But we'll figure it out. Someplace tropical, we're thinking.

7. October 3-5 (National Foundation Day): another three-day weekend.

8. February 18-22 (Seolnar): a full five days! We gotta do something! 

After February 2015, of course, Miss H and I will head back to the U.S.A. (most likely Las Vegas or Tuscon), settle down, and embark upon our careers and family lives. I won't hang up my travelin' boots, though. I hope to pull in enough money from my writing to take time off and globe-trot some more. Miss H and I still haven't seen Europe, and I've got some trekking in South America and some safariing in Africa to do yet. I still need to ride trains through Canada and Australia and Russia and India, too.

But this'll do for right now.

Park, Lee, and Kim...oh my!

Have you ever wondered why such a staggeringly large slice of the Korean population is named Park, Lee, or Kim? 

So have I. In fact, it used to be the most burning question I had about this peninsula, right behind what "Seoul" means. 

But not anymore. I found the answer. 

First, let me introduce you to a building:

                                                                                                               from Wikimedia Commons

It's called Gyeongbokgung ("Palace Greatly Blessed By Heaven") and it stands in central Seoul, near the intersection of Lines 3 and 5. Up the hill behind it is a famous Buddhist temple and the Blue House, the official residence of the Korean president. Gyeongbokgung was the largest and grandest of the Five Grand Palaces built by the Joseon Dynasty. Originally constructed in 1395, right after Joseon's foundation, and then later burned and abandoned for three centuries, it was reconstructed in 1867. 

Now here's where things start to get controversial. 

The official word is that Gyeongbokgung was burned to the ground by Imperial Japan shortly after their annexation of Korea in the early 20th century. But various reports and accounts I've heard tell a different story. Let me back up and do some more explaining.

Korea's surnames, like Scotland's, were all clan-based in antiquity. The Kims were a clan unto themselves back in the day, and a very powerful one. So were the Parks (or Bak, as I prefer to romanize it). The Lees, too. But there were hundreds of others: Choi, Bae, Woo, Lim, Jang, Jeong, Bang, Go, Min, Hong, Seo, Gang, Yoo, Heo, Yoon, Gwak, Gwon, Yang, Hwang, Myeong, Dong, Ryu, Noh, Na, and Pyo come readily to mind.

Here's the thing, though. Korea used to have a caste system. The Kims, Lees and Parks got so powerful that they became the rulers of some of the peninsula's mightiest kingdoms: Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, and Joseon. Everybody else got the shaft. The Gangs and Yoos and Yangs remained commoners. Granted, any commoner could sit for the gwageo (civil service examination) and become a yangban (civil servant), entitled to an estate and aristocratic privileges...but hey, noble names were still noble names, and common ones common.

When the Japanese annexed Korea in 1910, one of the first things they did was abolish the caste system. Suddenly a Kim was no better than a Choi, and Park no worthier than a Jang. But the names themselves still retained some time-honored clout. It was a mark of prestige to be a Kim or a Park, even if the Japanese had barged in and said it didn't count for beans anymore. 

So, according to what I've heard, Gyeongbokgung wasn't burned down by the Japanese. It was burned down by the Koreans. See, Gyeongbokgung was where the Hall of Records was. Everybody's birth certificates and genealogies were in there. With those reduced to ashes, a lowly Pyo or Hong could waltz right into the nearest Japanese registrar's office and say "Hello there. I'm Mr. Kim." Or "Howdy doody, ilbon saram! I'm Mr. Lee!" 

I don't know if that's true or not, but I have to admit it's a compelling theory. Korea suffers from a deplorable excess of Kims, Lees and Parks because their granddads all wanted to put on airs and had no qualms about committing arson to do it. This is why I secretly rejoice whenever I see an extremely rare surname (such as Gwak, Yang or Pyo) because I know that that person's ancestors had enough pride in their roots not to torch the royal palace and then fake their names during the next census.

And now you know the rest of the story.

P.S. Can you think of anybody else who might be using the name "Kim" to give themselves some street cred...?

Gangnam, Mongolia, and the Grand Canyon

It's the witching hour here in Seoul, and it's time for some updates. This blog's been clogged (see what I did there?) with my Japan junket and The Art of Manliness challenge I took in January. Time to give you the skinny on the others facets of my life.

THE BIG MOVE TO GANGNAM
Miss H and I started packing tonight. The bookshelf is completely empty, the dresser (which we use for miscellaneous storage, cramming all of our clothes into our wardrobes) is 80% done, and the games drawer has been packed up. The entirety of the kitchen, the wardrobes, the veranda and the bathroom remain, however. Both of us are remembering how much we hate packing. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why are we moving to Gangnam? Well, Miss H was justifiably discontent with her job here in Gwangnaru, so she elected to switch jobs at the completion of her contract in late February. The new job she found was with Gangnam SLP, in Gangnam-gu. Gu, if you'll recall, is a word roughly analogous to "borough" or "district" or "ward" in English. Seoul has 25 of these gu. We live in Gwangnaru, which is located in Gwangjang-dong, a neighborhood of Gwangjin-gu, widely regarded to be the city's most multifarious ward. Now, however, we'll be moving to Gangnam-gu, which is noticeably larger and more oblong than Gwangjin-gu. As far as I can tell, Miss H's school and our apartment are located at the extreme southern edge, in the neighborhood of Irwon-dong near Daecheong Station on Seoul Metro Line 3. The boonies, as it were. Go any farther south and you're not in Seoul anymore, Toto. We will, however, be deliciously close to the glitzy Gangnam Boulevard, and the attractive neighborhood of Sinnonhyeon beyond—the same place I bought a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis and read it in one go while sitting in a coffee shop in the Urban Hive, remember? There's also Yangjae Citizen's Forest, which I already know and love (and am planning some kick-ass summer barbecues around). We're right next door to Jamsil, with its humongous (albeit undergoing renovations) COEX Mall, and the Jamsil Sports Complex where all the best baseball games are played. It'll be a cinch to slide over to ritzy Apgujeong or across the river to Ttukseom Resort, too. Location, location, location. 

But first we gotta move there. So we're packing. We move in on the 1st of March. We're not using a moving service with a Kia Bongo like we did last time. He showed up at our old place in Bucheon at 8:00 at night and by the time we were all moved in to the new place in Gwangnaru it was midnight. We want to make it quick and easy this time. So I'll be obtaining a temporary international driver's license and renting a car. Preferably an SUV or at least a crossover—something with some cargo space. Then I'll drive our stuff to the new apartment in Irwon-dong myself. It'll be the first time I've ever driven Korea, or any foreign country for that matter. I'm heading to the DLA (Driver's License Authority) in Mapo-gu tomorrow to obtain a temporary license. I may have to take a test. Wish me luck. 

SPRING SEMESTER AT SEJONG UNIVERSITY
The pre-semester staff meeting is February 24th. I like my new schedule: on Mondays and Fridays I start at 11 and have two classes, finishing up at one o'clock. Tuesdays and Thursdays are the heavy days: 9:00 a.m. - 5:20 p.m., with a few breaks here and there. On Wednesdays, like usual, I have no class at all. I have a new type of class this time around: a combined reading/listening class that affords me some degree of freedom with resources and materials. I'm very much looking forward to selecting the best passages and audio clips to give the students the most effective (and fun) time possible. My commute will be longer, of course, but finding out the quickest way from Irwon-dong to the university (which is in the Neung-dong neighborhood of Gwangjin-gu) is going to be an adventure. 

What I'm not looking forward to, though, is getting my visa extended. This is always a hassle. It requires an entire day, a ton of paperwork, and a great honking trip into Yangcheon-gu in West Seoul to the main immigration office—and that's if everything goes smoothly. If the immigration officer decides that he needs to see some extraneous document that wasn't included on the official list, he can do so—and send you away until you acquire it. Sometimes one must make two or three trips to immigration to get everything sorted. That's the other thing I'm doing tomorrow besides hitting the DLA: renewing my visa. I called immigration twice and asked them the same question: what documents do I need? The answers tally, and I think I've got everything prepared. Let's hope I only need to make one trip. 

FLYING
Nothing doing. I'm in Korea, remember? Though I have figured out what I'll do about flight training when I return to the States. It looks like Miss H and I might wind up in Las Vegas, Nevada, when all is said and done. That's assuming we find jobs and cheap housing, but this locale is the most likely spot we've run across. Imagining that all goes as planned, we'll be living in Vegas, Miss H will be doing social work, and I'll be doing radio and bartending. On the side, I'll be working toward my commercial pilot's license. Once I get that (plus a few other ratings like high-performance and multi-engine and perhaps even instrument) I'll start applying to the companies that do flight-seeing tours over the Grand Canyon. I'd kill to fly a de Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter over that humongous scar in the earth. 

BOOZE
When was the last cocktail review I did? Halloween, probably. Things went nuts toward the end of the fall semester last year, and then the holidays hit, and then January was taken up with that challenge, and early February was my trip to Hokkaido. So...yeah. No booze. I'll probably restart my review schedule sometime in late March. Gotta wait for the dust to settle from the Big Move and the Spring Semester. 

On the home-brew front, the boys and I just bought a huge bulk order of malt extracts and yeasts and hops which we can play around with. But we'll get to that in a few weeks. For now we're just enjoying the amazing American pale ale we brewed up in December. We've discovered that adding an extra little bit of priming sugar to the brew just before bottling creates the perfect amount of carbonation. There's no fixing the sediment problem (not without secondary fermentation, which none of us have been brave/industrious enough to try yet), so all we have to fix now is the color and clarity. Oh, and the flavor. The last two batches have been spot-on, though, so I have high hopes for our next brew: a maple porter, my pick. I'm scanning the Interwebs for a suitable partial extract recipe. Let me know if you have any suggestions, dear readers. 

And speaking of reading...

READING
I hung up The Great Shark Hunt (Hunter S. Thompson). I'll keep it and read it later and put it up on the shelf and it'll look all groovy and sophisticated to passersby. I have other fish to fry, though. During the long train journey down through Japan I finished reading Paul Theroux's Ghost Train to the Eastern Star and The Terror by Dan Simmons. Good reads both, though I found Simmons's work a bit more stimulating (probably for this reason). I'm almost to Part Four of Anna Karenina, and have finally begun to enjoy it. Tolstoy knows a lot about human beings and can describe what he knows simply and clearly. After I finish this weighty volume I reckon it's either Robinson Crusoe or The Catcher in the Rye next. I need to get back into fiction badly.

And speaking of getting back into fiction...

WRITING
Still no word from Ace & Roc Science Fiction and Fantasy about my novel manuscript. I sent it to them, did I tell you? (I told Facebook, but I don't know if I've told you.) I sent them a query e-mail with the first ten pages of my manuscript copied-and-pasted into the body, as per their submission guidelines. Ace & Roc are imprints of Penguin Books, in case you were wondering. I chose them because I read somewhere that Cormac McCarthy sent his first novel (The Orchard Keeper) to Random House because it was the only publisher he had heard of. And they published it. Miracles do happen. I'm holding out for mine. I submitted the e-mail on January 29th, and Penguin's website warned me that manuscript queries can take up to five months to garner a response. So I'm waiting and praying and shopping for agents, just to be on the safe side.

On the writing front, Novel #3 is a chapter and a half from being done. There's a lot of edits to do but I'll mow 'em down fast. Novel #4 is still where I left it when my computer died last November. I must revisit it soon. I'm also going to crank out some more short fiction just as soon as the heat from the Big Move and the Spring Semester blows over. I'm slogging through Mugunghwa (my old NaNoWriMo project from two years ago) and making adjustments, corrections and clarifications to that as well. It should be ready to go by spring. I'm not sure whether to e-publish it or send it to an agent, but I'm mulling the question over. 

I really need to get some more pipe tobacco. I should do the whole mulling thing properly.

TRAVEL PLANS
Well, I've done Japan, Korea and China. That's the extent of my Asian travels. Bit paltry for almost three years, right? So it's time to up the ante. Miss J, Miss H and I have been talking about Mongolia. Buddha's Birthday and Children's Day are right next to each other on the first weekend of May this year. That means there's a four-day weekend coming up in mid-spring. Flights are cheap. Perfect time to hit the steppes, we reckon. We're thinking a nice hotel in Ulaanbaatar, a ride on a Bactrian camel, a traditional meal with a Mongolian family in their private yurt, watching the Kazakh falconers do their thing, a pony roundup on the open steppes and a bite of the finest Mongolian cuisine. I'll let you know as events develop. I'm still planning on Alaska this summer, and would love to do a train trip through Argentina and Chile if finances allow. Stay tuned. 

LIFE IN GENERAL 
I haven't been to the gym in weeks. In fact, I'm about to head down there and cancel our membership, and see if there's any sort of refund possible. Miss H and I didn't realize when we signed up in October that we'd miss a full third of our six-month subscription to Art Gym when her contract expired. If they won't give us a refund, then we've forfeited ₩80,000 apiece. Darn. At least we know now how much of a time commitment we're making when we sign up with a gym. 

The winter weather in Seoul remains pleasantly mild, with temperatures hovering around the low 40s and nary a snowball or an icicle in sight. The yellow dust from China, however, is kicking into gear. I'd love to be walking around in the open air and taking in my last views of scenic Gwangjin-gu, but there's a jaundiced scum in the air and it irritates my lungs and throat something fierce. I can't be bothered to wear a mask, either. So screw it. I'll stay inside and play the Facebook version of Deer Hunter 2014. 

SCI-FI ART
I haven't given you any of that in a while, either. And since every blog post (no matter how small) needs a picture, I give you this doozy. Make of it what you will: 

Hokkaido diary: the Camellia Line to Busan

2/7:

6:54 a.m. The Kodama 857 leaves at 7:11 a.m. for Hakata. I didn't even bother getting a ticket this time. I'll just sit in one of the non-reserved cars (1-4, 7, or 8). The only thing a ticket would have told me is what time the train arrives in Hakata. 

Last night was certainly the low point of the trip. Just before midnight I stepped out of Shin-Yamaguchi Station. I noticed three things. One, everything was slick and spit-shiny with recent rain. Two, there were hotels everywhere. Three, it was COLD—not the relentless 0-degree chill of Sapporo, but something worse—a creeping, drafty, moist cold that seeped through my clothes—every layer—and into my bones. 

The station was closed from midnight to 4:40 a.m. (4:40 - 0:00, the sign said, showing the Japanese trend of reading right-to-left and the NE Asian one of using military time.) There were no Internet cafés. There was one izakaya, but it was only open until the three and you had to take your shoes off. The first train to Hakata didn't leave until 6:27 a.m. So I started checking hotels. The Hotel Active, Hotel Amuze and Toyoko Inn were all full. I didn't even bother with Yamaguchi Station Grand Hotel—looked way too rich for my blood. I walked a bit further west and saw a familiar sign blinking at me in the distance—McDonald's! Lame to spend six-and-a-half hours there in a foreign country but any port in a storm. Stepping through puddles I made my way up to the door. It was locked. A sign on the door said something about the place being closed between midnight and 5 a.m., despite the big garish sign out front advertising "24H OPEN." 

I made a semicircle about the southern entrance of the station, looking for an Internet café or a comfy place to park my ass and finding none. I wandered the silent, dark, empty streets. I had just finished reading Theroux's Ghost Train in which, as the title suggests, he compares himself to a ghost, traveling unseen. I now felt the same way, like a lonely ghost seeking a warm building to haunt. I settled on a convenience store with tables and chairs inside—no wi-fi but at least light, warmth, and nourishment—but when I'd finished buying snacks I saw that a chain barrier had been strung around the tables and chairs, invisible from outside. Demoralized, I sat on the steps of the dark Japanese restaurant next to the Hotel Active and ate, watching a lone cab sit fruitlessly in front of the station. It was cold and the frigid tiles beneath me wicked all the heat away from my body. I drank the warm coffee I'd bought (not knowing why I'd bought it) and was on the point of heading into the izakaya when I saw a pedestrian bridge sneaking under the tracks. I took it. It was stark and bleak with high chain-link fences acting as suicide prevention. It could have been the setting for any hard-boiled Japanese crime novel or film, especially on this cold, damp night, steam flying from the actor's mouths whenever the [sic] speak. Beyond the bridge were three more hotels. I picked the shabbiest, oldest-looking of them all and got a quote—¥5,500 yen. A bit steep, but worth getting out of the weather. I paid up and went to my single smoke-scented room, tearing off my clothes and collapsing into bed. It was one-fifteen in the morning. 

Here's where that hot can of coffee I'd drunk began to bite me in the ass. 

In the end I was SO tired and So desperate for a rest that my brain overrode the buzzing caffeine and went to sleep anyway. The bed was the softest, most comfortable one I'd slept in (apart from the Karasuma Hotel in Kyoto). 

I woke up at 6:30 (let myself sleep in a bit), washed my hair, threw on my clothes and skipped out. The sky was dark purple, illuminating the jagged, silver-edged, pine-clad hills surrounding the town, as well as more of its ugly buildings and jumbled streets and alleys—rather like Korea, especially under overcast. I could see my breath. The hills had received a light dusting of snow. The damp spots on the pavement had turned to black ice. I hurried to the station, flashed my pass at the agent, and arrived on platform 12 in time to see the 6:49 for Hakata pulling away from me. I felt a bit mad at myself. I had a ship to catch. Dawn was coming and this ghost needed to flee. Should have woken up earlier. 

Oh well. The time is now 7:35 and we've passed Asa and Shimonoseki. I'll be there in time. I think we just entered the tunnel to Kyushu. 

7:50 a.m. Definitely on Kyushu now. Next stop is Hakata. I'd forgotten how pretty this place was, even under gray skies—lofty green mountains wreathed in fluffy cloud boas, everything looking moist and damp, even the people and their tiny houses with multicolored tile roofs. Like Jeju Island, but roomier. 

8:26 a.m. Eating another breakfast sandwich in another McDonald's in Japan. Excessive? Well, you can't beat the availability—or the price. I don't much feel like paying ¥500 for a bowl of ramen this morning. 

The train pulled into Hakata just before 8. I crossed the road and headed to the bus stop to check what bus I need—88, it seems. That rings a bell. I'll just stop at a combini (convenience store) to grab supplies for the six-hour Camellia Line ferry ride and then I'll head for the port. 

9:26 a.m. At the ferry terminal. I must be getting tired. I put my ¥500 coin into the change slot (instead of the fare hopper) and thought I'd paid. The bus driver had to hold me up and pluck the coins (¥220) from my open and clueless hand. 

I decided to skip buying snacks. The terminal has shops, and the ferry I'm taking is so huge that they'll have convenience stores and even a few noodle shops aboard. I'll probably be sleeping the whole time anyway. Already bought my ¥500 terminal use ticket (what a racket) and my ferry fare is prepaid ($90) so now I'll just have to pay the fuel surcharge at the check-in desk and head upstairs to the departure lounge...when the check-in desk opens at 11:00, that is. 

10:32 a.m. Checked in. Much smoother this time now that I know what to do. Fuel surcharge was only ¥1,200—barely more than $11.40! (Check my math.) The Camellia Line is six hours in duration but man, the price is right. I'm now sitting in the exact same terminal (2F) on the exact same gate (11) which I took last time. Only difference is that I took the JR Beetle, a Boeing 929 Jetfoil that reaches Busan in 2.5 hours, and it was summer and the weather was hot, muggy and sunny. Now it's cold and rainy and I'm eating the last of my Sapporo Beer Crackers and am anxious to be away. Exchanged money and got ₩188,000 back. 

The New Camellia car ferry. From Wikimedia Commons.

11:46 a.m. 24 kilometers per hour, 522 people and 20,000 tonnes. That's how much this vessel steams, holds, and weighs. The whole damn ship smells like piss, except the lavatories—they're fresh and clean. I'm in Room 439 on Deck 4. This being a ferry between Korea and Japan, there are no berths—just 10 alcoves with space to stick small bags, valuables, and hang coats. We'll lay out pads, lay our heads on the brick-shaped green vinyl pillows, pull a thin comforter over us, and snooze the crossing away on the brown-carpeted floor. Our shoes are in the requisite compartmentalized shoe-cubby seen in all the more civilized restaurants, bars and houses. Looks like there's six of us so far. I'm the only foreigner. The deck and rail are visible outside the porthole, and the roof of the ferry terminal with its enormous trombone-shaped glass canopies, and the dreary town of Fukuoka sitting sullen under the wind and drizzle. My iPod is charging. I trust Koreans enough not to molest it in my presence (it's 3 cubbies away from me). Almost 12 now and we'll be leaving in 30 minutes. I hope I sleep the whole way. 

 

 

Final glimpse of Japan.

  1:32 p.m. Trying to sleep, but I can only manage a light doze. It's hard to believe those whitecaps out there could make this big ol' boat rock 'n' roll so much. I'm not sick—never been seasick except that one time in 2008—but I just can't get used to the swaying, rollicking motion. It's like trying to sleep on a camel's back—moving and yawing and pitching and rolling on 3 axes. It doesn't help that the lights in here are all on, the TV is blaring softly (inexplicably showing the 2010 Olympics on SBS) and this ship is warping and twisting so much that the portholes and bulkheads are making clicking, snapping, creaking noises. I tried the light switch, but it either doesn't work or it isn't a light switch. I'd put in earplugs but I want to hear an abandon ship order if there is one. Best I can do is pull my hoodie over my eyes, pretend I'm in a howdah on an elephant's back in India, and pray the next 4 hours fly by like the howling wind outside. 

3:00 p.m. No such luck. Still can't get to sleep. My iPod is charged though, so I sneaked off to one of the lounges—by the staircase on Deck 5—to watch the rollers and troughs and crests. The sea is gunmetal grey as far as the eye can see, with streaks and flashes of white everywhere. The sky looks like old snow. Hard to believe wind and temperature and currents can create such force. This is like being in a big honking Winnebago going up and down hummocky hills. Still not sick, but I think my stomach believes I should be by rights, and is making inroads. We'll hit a big hillocky wave and go up, up, up...but what goes up must come down, and down we go with a gut-wrenching drop and what must surely be a huge gout of white spray. That in itself wouldn't be too bad, except that the waves are coming at us on the perpendicular, so as we rise and fall, we're also rocking from side to side (why I compared it to a camel's gait, actually). The fun part is—apart from staggering drunkenly down corridors, floating down staircases, and watching the great swells rise and fall as over the backs of unseen Leviathans—is that it's still drizzling outside and there are several pearlescent drips clinging to the railings just beyond my porthole. As the ship rises and falls, these droplets slide back and forth on the undersides of the rails, looking for all the world like bubbles in a carpenter's level. 

I think I'll step outside, get a breath of fresh air, and try to find the observation deck (up top somewhere, probably). 

3:39 p.m. As I figured—the doors to the outside deck are locked tight. Makes sense. They wouldn't let anybody go outside in these seas. No more of these rough winter crossings for me. Can see land to the west—must be Tsushima. Means we're getting there. 

5:07 p.m. Land ho!

I went back to my cabin and slept for a while. That beat back the impending nausea. I woke to see several cargo ships and the gray-green mountainous shores of K-Land in the distance. I also saw the JR Beetle passing us. He left two hours after we did—no surprise the little hydrofoil caught up—but he must have had to slow down due to the conditions. Looks like he's getting jounced around out there plenty. 

And so ends February 7th. There's one correction I should like to make: the New Camellia did indeed have berths with bunks, but they were in the first-class cabins. My paltry second-class cabin had the accommodations depicted above. 

Tune in tomorrow for the final chapter of my Hokkaido diary.