Alex flew in from Bangkok with a backpack crammed with
dirty clothes. When it was opened, my room was
destroyed. And there is a growing phalanx of beer bottles
on my kitchen floor which is slowly eating up
all my Lebensraum.
But since she came, my diet has improved. She's washed
all of her clothes but they're still all over
my floor. She shares my love of travel and has many
wonderful stories and insights. And she likes
to stay up all night, just as I do, talking and drinking
beer. She is, as they say in German, "supercool."
It's her first time in Korea, and her impressions are
refreshing; they help me to look at this city
and country with new eyes. We've been having a good
time, talking late into the night, drinking a
hell of a lot of beer, and seeing the city. During her
first week here, I was working during the days,
so she was sightseeing a lot on her own. She has
now seen more of Pusan in one week than I have seen
in a year.
Last week my work schedule was freer, so we decided
it would be good to get out of town for a few
days. We caught a bus to Yeosu. I went to a small island
(Kaedo) off the coast there a few months ago and
had a wonderful time. Last week we hoped to check
out another such small island and, well, do something
there.
*
I also knew that Yeosu has a replica of Yi Soon-shin's
famous Turtle Ship. You can't live in Korea and
not hear about the Turtle Ship. I had known about it
almost since my arrival here over two years ago,
but never felt the urge to go see it. But with Alex
here, that changed; once we arrived in Yeosu, we were
drawn to it like laundry to my floor.
The Turtle Ship is small as warships go, but as a turtle
it whoops some serious ass. It takes its name
from its protective iron shell on top, and perhaps also
from its tortoisian top speed of six knots. There
were mannequins around the deck in fighting poses, some
firing arrows and small cannons, other bleeding from
stumps where feet should have been. There were
many signs around the ship in cute but intelligible
English explaining what everyone was doing. The
ship was generally well-done, but it seems they skimped
a bit on the armor plating. The "20 cm thick" walls
of the ship looked like I could put my left foot
through it. I'm a rightie.
It was fun to imagine what the ship must have looked
like in battle. Sulfur smoke pouring from the
mouth of the dragon on the prow, Japanese cannonballs
bouncing off the top, bullets whacking against
the sides, and 130 tough bastards on the inside giving
it right back. Compared to modern naval warfare, these
were slow-moving battles. The Turtle Ship would
pull up next to an enemy ship and receive the same awful
pounding it was giving out--a kind of Sitzkrieg--only
the Turtle ships were better able to withstand
it than the Japanese ships were. I was impressed and
think Koreans are rightly proud of Admiral Yi.
The Turtle Ship in Yeosu is a snapshot of one of Korea's
finest hours, and it is proof positive of the best Korean
qualities, namely, bravery and ingenuity. And
it always feels good to savor victory over the Japanese,
whether you're talking about naval battles or
under-21 women's table tennis.
*
The next day we loaded our backpack with beer and set
off on the ferry to Yeondo. It turned out we didn't
need to bring the beer, as there were some small markets
on the island. (The village where I had stayed
on Kaedo had no markets, no beer). Better to be
safe than beerless.
We dropped our bags at a minbak (similar to a bed and
breakfast), loaded our beer into the fridge, and
went out for a late afternoon walk. Alex likes hiking.
So do I, though not for very long. We picked a
small hill and took it on. We reached the summit in
about 14 minutes. Perfect.
The good thing about hiking is that it gives me a hearty
appetite...okay, the views are nice too. By the
time we walked back down, we were ready for dinner.
The ajumma at our minbak had just about finished
preparing dinner when we arrived. She was a good
cook, and her husband was a generous and gregarious
host. I told him I do some fishing sometimes and
we hit it right off.
We talked about fishing, and about the legendary 30-centimeter
Dom that can be caught around the island. He explained
that the fishing in Yeondo is considered by many to
be the best in Korea. He was naming all the local
fish, some of which I recognized. Then he suddenly
asked me a tough question, something about a "Bu-shi"
and a "Go-ah". I had never heard of them. I told
him I knew nothing about these fish.
He couldn't believe this. He repeated, "Bu-shi. Go-ah."
Again I apologized, "Sorry, I don't know them."
He tried again, "You know, Cu-lin-ton." Ah, he was
talking about politics. He wanted to know what
I thought of the American election, which I stopped
following a few weeks ago. "Very strange," I said,
"Do you know who won?"
"Bu-shi" It's weird when a fisherman on a small Korean
island knows more about American politics than
I do, but so it goes when Alex is in town.
It was a pleasure talking to him. He spoke very slowly
and clearly, and he repeated almost everything
he said--just like the character Johnny Two-times in
the movie Goodfellas, "So, when are you going
back to Yosu, back to Yosu?" and, "Whaddaya think
of my wife's soup, my wife's soup?"
*
The island was so quiet that it was hard to sleep at
night--no shouting to lull me and no loudspeaker
trucks to sing to me in the morning. However we did
have a relaxing time, quite different from the
days I spent on Kaedo a few months before. I turned
up there on somebody's birthday, so everybody
choked me with pork and blinded me with Soju.
Their generosity was boundless, but I came away with
the suspicion that their idea of hospitality meant
doing everything in your power to make all your guests
puke.
Luckily there were no birthdays on Yeondo, actually
not much of anything save fishing, fishing, and
more fishing. We went for an early-morning ride on our
guesthouse ajossi's boat and found the rocks surrounding
the island swarming with anglers dressed head
to toe in day-glo fishing outfits. It seems that Koreans
cannot engage in any kind of sport without an
appropriate outfit. Just to walk up a hill to have a
picnic requires a designer walking stick, sporty
pants tucked into long wool socks, a sun visor, and
two-inch spiked hiking boots, never mind that most of
the mountain trails around Pusan are now paved
and are served by buses or cable cars.
Maybe the clothes help to get you in the mood. And
I wonder, is it something I'm wearing that's leading
me to drink beer every night? My drinking outfit: dark
shirt and pants to hide embarrassing spills and
food stains, and leather boots to wade through the
occasional mucky bar toilet. And come to think of it,
sometimes a walking stick might come in handy.
*
The morning we were due to catch the ferry back to
the mainland, we were dying for a cup of coffee.
There was a small coffee shop (Da-shil) near the wharf
which turned out to be closed, maybe for good.
Nearby I asked a local guy if there was another
Da-shil around. No luck. Then I asked him if there was
anywhere we could get some coffee. He answered
without hesitation, "My house."
So we went to his house and met his family. Judging
from the way his middle-aged mother dragged me
to the floor of their living room and stroked my arms,
they seemed very happy to meet us. Coffee and
rice cake were soon produced, and we sat around
chatting amiably, beginning with that great ice-breaker
"Where are you from?"
I told his mother I'm American and Alex is German and
she found this strange. She asked me something
I didn't catch, and a moment later her son rephrased
it in a way I could understand, "She wants to
know if Germany is very far from America."
I was deeply touched by the question, more so because
her grown son apparently didn't know the answer
either. I explained that it's about a six or seven hour
plane ride from the east coast. Her eyebrows rose
and she chewed on that for a moment. Then she
asked, "So how did you meet?"
I explained that we met while travelling in Cambodia
last year. That really threw her for a loop. She
didn't ask me where Cambodia was but I could see that
she knew it was very far from both Germany and
America. Her brow grew deep furrows and she became
silent, occasionally making "mmm" sounds. Soon enough
came the inevitable question, "Are you married?"
Alex and I had previously agreed to pretend we were
married to avoid any potential hassles. The guesthouse
owner had asked if we were married--I answered yes and
that was the end of it. We were set to meet the
ferry in a hour and would almost certainly never
see these people again, but still I answered automatically,
"Yes, we are married."
I regretted it immediately. Unlike the minbak owner,
they got very excited and wanted to know all the
details. "When were you married?"
I stuck with our story, "Last Saturday." They got even
more excited. Why did I say that?
"Did your parents come to the wedding?" Damn, this
is getting tough. I said no and immediately knew
I'd put my foot in it again. Parents not attending their
children's wedding is awkward anywhere, but it
is entirely beyond the comprehension of most Koreans.
I knew I needed an explanation, so I said, "Uh, the
ticket was too expensive."
What a look of pity they gave us, and what a shit I
felt like for lying to these people who were so
kind to us. To make matters worse, the son explained
that he occasionally comes to Pusan on business
of some kind, and he'd love to get together with us
the next time he's in 8 town. We exchanged numbers
and my mind started working on how I'd explain the
disappearance of my "wife" who would be back in Germany
in a week.
*
The time came to leave, too soon as always. We said
goodbye to our minbak family, who encouraged us
to "come again next time, next time come again." Alex
was happy to have tasted at least a small slice
of island life in Korea, and I was happy to have
tasted only a small slice and not an entire side of
pork.
And tomorrow I must say goodbye to Alex too because
she's going back to Germany, which is even farther
from Korea than it is from America. My room will only
be half as messy, and I expect my heart will be
about twice as heavy. But already we are talking
about when we meet again next time, next time, when
we meet again.
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