Bitterly bone chilling cold is tolerable for five minutes. Into
the sixth minute, hallucinations of hot burning scorching sun searing down my
back commences the beginning of my insanity. If it were not for work, I would
not opt to fly to Seoul, Korea in the dead of winter. My friend, Chung Kim,
informed me over skype that outside his house, it was -15°C and predictions for
the week, will go as low as -25°C
Any preconceived notions from all avenues of media, did not
prepare me for the two things that struck about Korea, Koreans and the “Zeitgeist”
of Korea. The spirit of the age and the
atmosphere of the place spelt “successfully clawed out of an abyss……hauling strength,
self worth back up.”
Early morning Seoul is a grey, misty and bone-gripping
cold. Sipping steaming tea whilst
waiting for check-in time - Mr. Kim declined to waste time and took us on
a visit to Jogyesa Temple. Having
practiced Buddhism in the threshold of “Theravadism,” the teachings of
analysis, the doctrine that says insight
must come from the aspirant's experience, critical investigation, and reasoning
instead of blind faith. To witness
another form of Buddhism, “Bodhisattvas,” representing various aspects of
compassion and wisdom filled my intellectual void.
A white pine tree is
located in the temple grounds. Mr. Kim
was proud to tell me that the Pine tree is a Natural Monument No. 9. In
the very cold wind, this was my first
leveler of nationalism. The Cultural
Heritage Administration of South Korea designated plants, landforms, and
geological formations, nature reserves as natural monuments. This lacebark pine had reached a height of
10 meters and estimated to be 500 years old; the lack of growing space has
weakened its condition. I could hear Mr.
Kim’s American English continue to describe the temple fading into the
distance, as my mind was on the Cultural Heritage
Administration. The ice cold temperature
seemed to have lost its grip for a momentary spell, I was more mesmerized by a
living thing, 500 years old sheltering me from the elements. Held and treasured by Korean people, this
tree became a significant feature to my introduction of all things Korean.
I have to admit that I
have a biased attitude to all things Korean.
It’s a very female thing.
Unashamedly it is my unfound jealousy towards my partner’s
ex-girlfriend Sung-ji. Obviously she made an impact on him, so all points
she represented were doomed. Poor Mr.
Kim had to make up for things he had no idea how high a climb he needed to accomplish,
in order to impress this jaded lady.
To combat the ice
crystals forming in my veins, Sam Gae Tang was suggested. This is the most wonderfully delicious
chicken soup that even the best Jewish version could not compete and pales in
comparison. I stand my ground to any
Jewish mother refuting otherwise. The fresh ginseng stuffed in the cavity of
the chicken infuses the glutinous rice stuffed inside together. The Cornish hens boiled for hours just falls
apart with just a touch of a fork. It
came with a small shot glass of ginseng wine and perked my attitude up. Completion of
DAY 1, my “Koreanaphobia” lessened just a notch or two.
Dongdaemun
Market for some is the ultimate in shopping experience but I was not into cheap
copies or wholesale buying. For me,
Jindo Fur store was what poor Mr. Kim was about to be dragged into for a whole
afternoon. My conscience for endangered
species was not anywhere to be found. I
wanted a mink fur jacket. Not a fox, not
anything other than a mink to cover my shoulders.
Mink
jackets, mink stoles, mink coats, all shades were hung in racks upon racks in
the vast warehouse. I was the proverbial
little girl in a candy store. The
entire afternoon slipped into a haze.
Mr. Kim was made of magnificent patience; he nodded off to sleep, shot
himself up every now and again to sounds of ecstasy emanating from behind the
fitting room. Decision made, payment selection made, I was ready for a new
experience.
Jetlagged,
mixed with red wine, and a full stomach, pointed only in one direction >
sleep. The inviting luscious bed of the
Shilla Hotel, after a long working day and shopping afternoon, was tempting but
my host was taking me to the NANTA show.
Sitting
in the theatre waiting for the show to start, the sleepy haze effect I
was fearing, was about to become my worst nightmare – my snoring habit was
surfacing. It was so hard to keep awake. Suddenly the drums started, I was about to witness the best show, bar
any on Broadway NYC or Shaftesbury Avenue, London or Circe de Soliel, Vegas.
NANTA is the
longest-running show in Korean history. In Korea it is performed in three
theatres in Seoul as well as in one theatre on the island of Jeju. The show’s back story of three cooks
attempting to finish preparing a wedding banquet within a strict time limit
while the manager installs his incompetent nephew among the kitchen staff. The performance
involves acrobatics, magic tricks,
comedy pantomime and audience participation. The unifying element throughout
the musical is the use of traditional Korean samul nori music, which in this case in performed with
improvised instruments, such as cutting boards, water canisters and kitchen
knives. The performance is almost completely non-verbal.
I sat up completely
spellbound with such originality. The
sheer creativity, in-sync, nonverbal, surpassing all culture, was when I deferred
to their incredible society that I had originally dismissed.
Here is where I found
the true beginnings of Korea and the Koreans I was privileged to see. Their immense pride and nationalistic
sentiments having achieved so much in the last fifty years is much to be proud
of. Selecting anything from their cars,
airplanes, IT and cellular industry their fashion, cosmetic surgery industry,
their TV soaps – they have committed to excellence. Nationalistic pride is somehow missing in today’s emergence of borderless countries.
I have only one major
beef about the country. The lack of
warmth, of empathy, fallen through the cracks on their way up the abyss
contributes to the freezing soul in
frozen Seoul.
