Hyun-Shil’s First Week in Seoul

3/31/2015.  The room phone in my hotel rings at an alarming, unadjustable volume.  A ringing phone is one of my great phobias.  But in Korea I’m obligated to pick up.  Every day there’s a cousin or aunt I haven’t seen since the ‘90s: “OMG Hyun-shil, how come you didn’t tell me you were in town? I heard from Saechae Imo that you had dinner the other night! WHEN were you going to call me?!”

Then when I show up it's always the same. Way more relatives than I was expecting and the matron in the group greets me with, “Omahhh!  You're TOO skinny.  A pair of chopsticks!” or “Are you sick? You have no curves! It’s the children.  Having young children strips all the fat from your body.”  At this all the women present nod and survey my body sympathetically.  Then they proceed to talk about me in Korean as if I have no idea what they’re saying.

“She looks like her dad.  Skin isn't white.  But she also takes after her mom.  Premature graying.”

“Well, I heard she had trouble getting pregnant.  Didn’t have the first child until 35.  She looks like the anxious type.  Anxious types always have trouble getting pregnant.”

“No, it wasn’t that.  It was that she got married too late.  Very American.  Getting married late or not at all.”

“Did you hear?  Her husband is JEWISH.”

“Yes, but he’s not a banker.  He’s a PROFESSOR.” [Murmurs of approval.]

“He’s going to be on EBS.  An hour-long special.  Explaining why we all hate each other.”

"Omahhh!"  People ask me how to spell his name and check their phones.  Their giant Samsung phones.

“Hey, I know!  Let’s take her to a spa.  She’s been shepherding those little kids through all kinds of Muslim nations for two months.  She needs  massage.”

I brighten at this idea but try to look as sad sack as possible.   Yes, little Hyun-shil needs a massage.  Always.

About 99% of the week was meeting and eating (no massage yet--dang!), but I did manage to grab a few images of quintessential Seoul...

Here's Gyeongbuk Palace, from 1395.

The Japanese demolished the 300-building compound several times.  Each time the Koreans rebuilt.  Still rebuilding from the last time.

On one side the backdrop is skyscrapers of multinational banks.  But on the other is this beautiful mountain.  Korean design principle of yore:  build your house with a mountain in the back and a river in the front.

In the local markets, there are dozens of kinds of kimchee.  The stuff in the middle bottom is my fave.  Perilla leaf!  My mom would grow this in our garden when I was little and one of my chores was to harvest them.  Flat stiff fuzzy leaves with a distinctive perfume.  I still remember how satisfying it was to stack them in my hand like playing cards.

Every day I take my kids to this mochi counter.  The best flavor:  blueberry cream.  The worst:  apple pie.  Apples and glutinous rice just don't go.

Dduk is the most Korean of snacks.  I was raised on this stuff.  It's basically glutinous rice with all sorts of tasty fillings like sugary sesame seed puree or sweet red bean paste.

Persimmons a hundred different ways.

On to the pharmacy!  The Korean equivalent of Duane Reade is stocked with rejuvenating cosmetics.  Especially the whitening stuff.  The "baby" standard makes it all a bit creepy ... not to mention that the baby is WHITE.

An ampoule of bovine placenta?  I just lost my appetite for mochi ice cream.