Korean Riddle

What Rhymes with Korea?

Before the riddle is answered, let’s start off with a little Chinese history:

The first week of October in China is one of two national “Golden Weeks.” It begins with the National Day of the People's Republic of on October 1^st. FYI: The PRC was founded on October 1, 1949 with a ceremony at Tiananmen Square, and on December 2, 1949, the government declared October 1 as the National Day.

Golden Week is the name given to two annual 7-day national holidays, implemented in 2000:

• The "Spring Festival (or Chinese Lunar New Year) Golden Week” in January or February.
• The "National Day Golden Week" begins around October 1.

For each week, three days of paid holiday are given, and the surrounding weekends are re-arranged so that workers in Chinese companies always have seven continuous days of holiday. These national holidays are primarily intended to help expand the domestic tourism market and improve the national standard of living, as well as allowing people to make long-distance family visits. (I obviously cut and pasted all that.)

And here’s the important part: The Golden Weeks are consequently periods of greatly heightened travel activity. An estimated 28 million Chinese traveled during the first National Day Golden Week in 1999. In 2007, this number had increased to over 120 million.

So…like the other 120+ million Chinese residents, we decided to travel.

As our destination, we chose Seoul in South Korea. Having only lived in China 7 weeks, our travel plans were last minute. Seoul was close (only 2 hours by plane) and tickets and hotels were somewhat affordable. Plus, none of us have ever been there nor will we ever have a reason to go there. An adventure!!

Now Back to the riddle: What rhymes with Korea?

Angie answered gonorrhea. True, but luckily that is NOT part of our story.

But yes, unfortunately, the answer is……

Diarrhea.

Our Itinerary:

Saturday October 2^nd

Brad returns to Beijing from a whirlwind European work tour. He traveled nearly 60 hours in 5 days, working the entire time. He seems pale and shaky but understandably so. Unknowingly, an enemy has infiltrated his body, waiting to strike…

Sunday 9 am:

The three of us head to the airport for our direct flight to Seoul. At the airport, Brad spends quite a lot of time in the bathroom. Still seems pale and shaky. He’s jet-lagged, right?

Sunday afternoon:

Flight was easy, carry-on luggage was a great idea, the bus from the airport was a piece of cake, the hotel is fine and in a good location, we have ordered a rollaway bed for Lucas in the room….we’re golden for Golden Week.

I notice many Pepto-Bismol and Imodium wrappers in Korea. Must be all the Kim Chi, I decide.

Sunday evening:

Miracle of miracles, there is a Korean vegetarian restaurant close by.

As a family we explore downtown Seoul on foot and head to the restaurant. Brad is lurching through the streets, forehead shining with sweat. Bad case of jet lag! Worst I have seen!

I notice more pepto wrappers, fluttering in the breeze. Hmm.

The restaurant is a hit. We take off our shoes and sit on the floor cushions at low tables. We order the family set menu, which includes lots of odd and interesting Korean food—at least 20 little dishes! No one speaks English. It’s an adventure!

Brad takes pictures. Lucas charms the waitresses by clearing the table and bringing our empty bowls into the kitchen. I nibble everything, cautiously, curiously. You never know…

Brad and Lucas eat ACORN JELLO. (This is very similar to the Liangfen jello our Ayi has made. Please see previous food blog entry.) I am repulsed. They both like it--a lot!-- and clear the plate, popping the wiggling, jiggling “jellyfish-ish” squares into their mouths whole. Maybe I need a pepto tablet…it's really grossing me out.

Lucas eats three steaming bowls of Korean bean paste soup. I am thinking Miso Soup but with more seaweed. Very Flavorful. Too flavorful for me. I stick with small taste-testings.

Brad visits miniscule Korean bathroom several times. He and Lucas both admit that they cannot find the light switch on the bathroom wall and it is dark in there!

We return to hotel.

I spot an empty Imodium box.

Monday AM

Brad spends $24 on 2 lattes. I feel sick to my stomach at the cost. Brad visits bathroom.

As our first destination we chose Namsangol Hanok Village, a Korean village located in a central district of Seoul where hanok (Korean traditional houses) have been restored to preserve the original atmosphere of the area.

It looks reasonably close on the map, and we put our very American “sneakers” on for the walk. And we walk. And walk. And walk. We walk all the way to the foothills on the outskirts of Seoul.

Lucas and I forge up the hill with Brad slowly following. I hear his feet dragging on cobblestones. Lucas and I chat about you guys! We decide Jacob O would love the adventure. We laugh that Katie Bug would still be in the city center, avoiding the endless trek, saying her legs hurt. Riley B would be interested but hungry, avoiding the strange Korean food. (Riley is brilliant!)

The hill gets steeper. We pass printing presses. We pass a factory. We pass a tourist sign that his been knocked down and is hidden in the bushes. And we walk some more. The road, the alley, the foot path ends. We turn around.

Finally we say to hell with the international data-roaming charges. We google-map ourselves on the iPhone. It’s official. We are lost. Brad looks like he is going to swoon.

I spot a thin man in a black suit drinking a cup of tea beside a garage. (Really, it’s true.) I show him our very simple tourist map. I point up. I point down. He points to his black minivan with tinted windows. Desperate to sit, Brad climbs in.

Really, he does! I follow suit.

I ask myself, “What are the chances I approached a random Korean serial killer in a black suit drinking tea on the hillside of Seoul?” It must be safe, right?

He sort of looks like a gangster. Is the Yakuza in Korea? I realize my family’s safety is in my hands. Brad is in no shape to defend us as his head lists to the side. I am primed for Kung Fu. Damn, why haven’t I started my lessons yet?

I am on high alert. The doors have not locked. It’s a freaking’ minivan, I assure myself! I look for the baby wipes.

Could it be a kidnapping? Who would pay for our safe return? I breathe deeply. I know Lizzie will take out a cash advance for me and Lukey!

My imagination spins wildly. Clearly!

The Good Samaritan soon drops us off at our destination, back in the center of Seoul. We bow our thanks; as idiot Americans we do not even know the Korean word for thank you! We vow to pay it forward the next time we have the opportunity.

Brad charges to the toilet.

Monday Afternoon

Brad, the toilet warrior, has finally run out of steam. We have walked all over Seoul. We have thrown arrows and played ancient games. We have seen some sites. Brad has seen more restrooms than we can count. Our brave soldier cannot take another step forward.

I have a brilliant idea! Let’s go see a “Broadway” Korean show! Brad can rest in the dark audience for 2 hours and the theatre is close by. We carefully select an aisle seat; my husband may need to make a quick getaway.

The show is FABULOUS! It is called Nanta. Its web page says:

“Nanta is a non-verbal performance of free rhythmical movements that dramatize customary Korean percussions in a strikingly comedic stage show. Integrating unique Korean traditional drumbeats in a western performance style, NANTA storms into a huge kitchen where four capricious cooks are preparing a wedding banquet. While cooking, they turn all kinds of kitchen items - pots, pans, dishes, knives, chopping boards, water bottles, brooms and even each other- into percussion instruments.”

If you have the chance, go see it! We howled. Lucas loved it. And there is random audience participation.

Midway through the show, an actress asks Brad to please come on stage and have some chicken soup. I kid you not. He gracefully declined, patting his stomach bizarrely. The actress’s expression: What the Hell?

Shortly thereafter, I am invited on stage for a dumpling making contest. Oh, I am so there! Brad is asked yet again to come on stage. He bites the bullet and joins me. Lucas watches from the audience.

We wear chef hats. Brad must beat a rhythm with a rolling pin. I have to dance as I stuff the dumplings and crank the conveyor belt.

Think of my very favorite I love Lucy episode where Lucy and Ethel work at the chocolate factory. That’s us in a Korean kitchen on stage in front of a full house. We are pitted against an Asian couple. Who can produce the most dumplings in the shortest amount of time?

The Enormous Americans are the dumpling masters! We kick ass!

For vegetarians we are big hams!

Monday Evening

The audience applause has revived my husband. After the show, we visit a famous fashion district and a handicraft market. We have tried lots of street food from roasted chestnuts to mini Korean donuts. We have walked miles and miles.

For dinner, we chose the old American standby: Italian. It’s safe, easy, familiar.

The bathroom is very clean with a light fixture that works and the ceilings are high enough to stand in. Bonus!

Midway through the meal, Lucas puts his head in my lap. This is the beginning of the end of our Korean adventure.

Monday Night Fever

At 7 p.m. with our pizza in a to-go bag, Lucas’s temperature reads 102.6 F.

You may wonder why we have a thermometer with us. In China, as you enter Immigration, the government scans your body temperature to ensure the health of the Republic’s people. There is a quarantine center if you do have a fever. It is our worst nightmare to be quarantined as we enter the country. We are always prepared with a thermometer and Advil.

We are scheduled to leave at 9 a.m. on Wednesday. Lucas has 36 hours to recover. Can we give him adult ibuprofen? That’s all we have. Remember our carry-on luggage that worked so well? Now we have no children’s Tylenol with us due to the “liquid” law.

By 10 p.m., Lucas screams that his head hurts when the light is on. He is sweating and shivering and shaking. I have him wrapped in cold towels.

And we speak no Korean.

I am sure he has meningitis. I don’t even know what that is, but I am positive it is deadly and Lucas has it from the street food. I am thinking spinal taps.

Brad calls the 24-hour number on our SOS International Health Insurance Card that P and G must play a bloody fortune for! Thank you, P and G.

No, we cannot give Lucas adult Advil.

Yes, we must get his fever down immediately.

No, we cannot return home with a fever.

Yes, we must get medicine immediately.

Brad heads to the Concierge desk. He returns half an hour later. He has children’s….something….from a Korean pharmacist who speaks no English. The concierge arranged the purchase.

There are pictures of children on the bottle and a lot of Korean characters. I assure myself it is child safe. There are pictures of children on the bottle!

We start dosing every 2 hours.

Unlike Brad, Lucas does not make it to the bathroom several times as he tosses and turns, mumbling deliriously. We dose him again, pushing water and Gatorade.

What rhymes with Korea?

We open the windows and strip the bed.

Tuesday

Boy, do we feel thankful! We are grateful that Lucas’s fever has broken, grateful that P and G has such awesome health insurance, and super grateful that all three of us have Kindles to read on.

Because Tuesday is one endless day, trapped in the hotel room, keeping the fever at bay.

When we try to rent some family movies, the service is unavailable. The front desk says that the hotel had to return the movies (?) and they will not be available until October 8th. This leaves us speechless.

Wednesday

On the flight home, all three of us take Advil (and whatever is in that Korean bottle) on the off chance that we have a fever that will not allow us to enter the country.

We pass through the temperature scanners with our breath held: me, then Lucas, then Brad.

Suddenly I hear Lucas declare loudly, “Dad, I still feel sick!”

Do I look back or keep walking? I glance over my shoulder. Brad is hustling Lucas though the airport, whispering intently to him and keeping him silent!

Exiting the airport, I have never been so happy to see Mr. Duan, our driver. We are all on the road to recovery.

Home sweet home.

Thursday

All is fine here except….our toilets.

The sewer line will not drain.

Dia-Korea!