This weekend we went on a language immersion trip to Daegu which is pretty funny because our normal life here is really one big immersion tour anyway: we walk around Seoul and do our best to communicate despite having zero language ability. It definitely makes us appreciate the Italian skills we had upon arrival in Milan although I've got to admit that our sign language has never been better. This weekend's trip was a first step towards developing stronger language skills and although we're no closer today to being able to express our needs in the Korean language, we did learn a thing or two about Korean culture which - frankly - is just as interesting.
1. Don't talk too loudly on the train.
It's a two-hour train ride from Seoul to Daegu and while the time goes by relatively quickly you're still left with nothing much to do for 120 minutes. The natural thing is to start talking with your friends and colleagues since they're sitting across from you and also have nothing to do. From our experience in Italy we know that this is not just an American custom and from what I've experienced on Italian trains, Americans display relatively tame train behavior. However, it seems that we're not quite tame enough for the Korean train system.
There's a lingering formality about the trains here. When you're at the station and first come upon your train waiting on the tracks you're actually greeted by a uniformed employee who does a quick little head bow and points you in the right direction - this type of greeting doesn't happen on Amtrak and the only American comparison I can make is what sometimes shows up in old movies with Cary Grant. Unfortunately, this uniformed attendent is also the person who tells you to quiet down if he thinks you're talking too loud. Which happened to us while we were having what we felt was a fairly muted conversation. And the worst part is that he does it in a quiet voice - kind of like a librarian - so that he's sure to model the proper volume of speech. You never forget your first time being reprimanded at a whisper.
2. You will pay a fine in the all-you-can-eat restaurant if you over-estimate how much you can eat.
For Sunday's lunch we went to this great all-you-can-eat Korean barbeque buffet. Every table has a skillet-like grill in the center and your job as the visitor is to go to the freezers along the wall and choose what you'd like to grill. It's a bit strange to be picking your meal straight out of the frozen food section but having tried it I've got to say that it's a pretty sound concept.
I walked past all of the beef and pork - tubs full of different cuts and types - and headed straight for the tentacles. There were two varieties of whole squid and one tub of marinated octopus and I've never been happier with eating a plate full of sea life. Having experienced both excellent and atrocious seafood in Italy I was worried that I might not be able to do justice to the marine life frozen in front of me but I shouldn't have worried. All you have to do is plop the creatures on the griddle, ignore them for while, and then eat them with rice.
But don't forget the scissors. Hats off to the Koreans on this one... scissors are a perfect addition to the standard silverware set. What better way to attack a meal that's comprised of several arms and a big bulbous body than with scissors? Or a big bowl of noodles in seasoned soy sauce? A knife and fork will have you chasing your octopus across the room and even experts cut their noodles before going at them with chopsticks. The next time you're fighting with food, give the scissors a try - it works for the Koreans.
The only trouble with walking past freezers full of meat and seafood, side dishes, rice, noodles, and soup is that you want to eat it all. And it's not too surprising seeing as it is an all-you-can-eat restaurant. But in Korea you'd better think again. Because if you think you want to eat it all, you're going to have to follow through or else pay a fine. And while I don't doubt that most of us can afford a $5 fine I do question whether we really want a formal reminder in front of our colleagues that we're a giant pig and wasted a plate of food. More effective than the fine, wouldn't you say?
3. Follow-up: Same goes for temple food except that the fine is bad karma because they really can't charge you.
Late Saturday afternoon we visited the Haeinsa Temple which is one of Korea's three major temples and is also a UNESCO world Heritage site. The temple is a gorgeous structure sitting on top of Gaya mountain and surrounded by lush greenery. However, this temple's prominence and fame derive more from what it houses (the Tripitaka Koreana) than from its beauty, which goes a long way towards explaining the importance of the Tripitaka Koreana.
The Tripitaka Koreana is made up of of 81,254 carved woodblocks and is a compilation of sacred Buddhist texts. The carving of these printing blocks was finished in AD 1251 and despite a jaw-dropping 52,382,960 characters carved into wood by hand, there are no mistakes. The buildings in which these wooden blocks have been stored over the centuries use a sophisticated ventilation system and a combination of charcoal, clay, and calcium oxide to absorb humidity during the rainy season and slowly give it back when the weather is dry. The fact that they're still around in all their glory - despite various invasions, wars, and fires - is no small feat.
We also were able to watch the evening drum performance during which several monks play four types of drums in succession. It's a moving concert and entire families gathered to listen to the various rhythms. The storm of noise was in stark contrast to the dinner we'd just finished. Everyone is welcome to dine at temple meals; there's no charge (you're expected to leave a donation) and you dine in the same large hall as the monks, although at separate tables. There are two rules to this experience in simplicity and spiritual harmony: 1. Don't talk, and 2. Finish everything on your plate.
It's surreal. In the dining hall there are only the noises of chair legs scraping the floor as people come and go and the hushed sounds of eating. That's it. You start by quietly grabbing a bowl and then just as quietly walking past several gigantic pots of food, scooping your portion into your bowl. This is where you have to keep in mind that despite appearing otherwise, the bowls are actually pretty darned big and it's wise to fill them appropriately.
The food was simple and good and as long as your eyes aren't bigger than your stomach there shouldn't be too many problems finishing. Although - truth be told - I had to ask Stefano to help me finish my soup. (Which I did without saying a word, thank you very much.)
At the end of the meal you bring your empty bowl to the kitchen sink and place it atop the towering piles of bowls already sitting there. All empty. I guess no one wants to risk making the monks mad, or sullying their offer of a free meal by not finishing what you take. Personally, I hope I didn't get any demerits for the two hot pepper slices that I left behind; I assumed that the monks in all of their benevolence would understand.
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