Happy Lunar New Year

I've taken on some extra part-time work this week, so have been forced to favour my computer screen this long weekend rather than partake in extended family rituals this year.

This also means that instead of gorging myself on festive foods indoors, I've experienced the one time of year that Seoul closes down. Shops and restaurants might be open on Christmas Day in Korea, but the 24-hour convenience lifestyle is annually renounced for the first day of the year by the lunar calendar.

This year that day is today, Monday 26th January.

One thing that the second national turnaround does give, is an excuse for establishments to keep their excessive Christmas decorations up a little longer, much to the horror of Korea's western residents. Although the shops are shut, Yongsan's CGV was screening some films which gave me the perfect excuse to dust my camera and snap some shots at the I-Park Mall - hence the unseasonal photograph.

Subok and I checked out Changeling, and despite craning our necks to view the big screen from the second row as we battled all the other cinema-goers on this national holiday, it was an excellent choice. Definitely recommended.

Norae-blogging

The cosy little street that I live on in the suburbs of the big smoke is home to a supermarket, a hair shop, several restaurants, a handful of bars, a couple of fast food outlets, and 3 noraebangs. I'd say this is a pretty standard set up for the side streets of Seoul. All of the above establishments have their own welcome signs, be they in bunting, logo-ed up vans, or the favourite: neon lights. There's always a man with a megaphone selling today's produce, and everyone is zigzagging up and down the street making their way from the mandu shop to the kimbap lady.

Lauren was due to leave Seoul on Thursday morning to set sail for our Japanese neighbours. After a never-ending course farewell meal at a traditional Korean restaurant with our co-workers she had two options: take a fleeting sleep and get up in 7 hours time, or spend a final night with her university friends (a.k.a. her fellow English teacher and boyfriend) on the beer and soju. I say she chose wisely.

Now I always thought Seoul life was 24 hours. A life of convenience if you will. I was put right when I left the PC Bang (in the days before home internet) at 1am to find no convenience store to sell me strawberry milk; another time when I wandered out at 8am in search of breakfast at the bakery but to no avail. Inconvenient. Heading out in the torrential rain at 2am on Wednesday night we were faced with a dark street. Quite the opposite to the usual buzzing daytime scene. Our options were Noraebang 1, Noraebang 2, or Noraebang 3.

Apparently it's illegal to sell alcohol in these singing rooms, but little seedy places like the ones listed above waver this rule. A couple of hours in a private room with a couple of dodgy mics, a list of dated songs to blast out and a bit of illegal beer, and Lauren was right set to board her 4.30am bus to Seoul station. I got a text at 10am to say she was on the boat. A good night had by all.

Greetings,

my readers, who are yet few and far between. I introduce to you now what I hope will become a rich and delightful (and imminently less pretentious) collection of my experiences here in the Republic of Korea.

I am currently residing in a small studio apartment of which when I walk in through my front door (admittedly there are only 2 doors - the other of which leads to the bathroom - so to specify front is rather unnecessary) I am greeted by the unpleasant smell of must, appeased only so far by the act of maintaining both the small window and the door open. This is in turn an invitation for the cold air - occasionally icy air, of which I've been informed will only get icier - that flows through the corridor outside to waft into my otherwise heated room, not to mention any curious neighbours in need of an escape from their own cosy abodes, or the occasional door-to-door seller excited by the prospect of saving the energy from knocking. Still, by regularly doing my washing up and airing the airlocked bathroom this is not so much a problem as an inconvenience that I am getting used to. And regarding washing up - I only have one set of cutlery so in order to eat this is a necessary chore anyway.

Now it's not all bad. There is a small supermarket just a thirty second walk down the road outside, and a regular street seller just downstairs with his inviting smells of 호떡 (honey-filled pancake). I say there is a small supermarket, but it holds the majority of one's food needs - especially when one is not one would describe oneself as a foody. It is certainly bigger than your average Tesco Metro. But I realise that I write as though this is my only food source! There are, in fact, dozens of cornershop-esque shops all the way down the small stretch of road that I live on all selling apparently the same produce; one does walk by wondering how they all stay alive/why they all exist when all one's basic needs are covered by the aforementioned grocery store. Nevertheless, they do, and with friendly old people often sleeping inside until they hear your rustle at the door, eager to practice their limited English and help you with your poor grasp of the Korean numbering system.

I doubt this is a sufficient introduction to my new life, but my chosen current occupation does force me to "conk out" - as it were - rather sooner than my regular bedtime. My initial dreams of lessons filled with colouring in and singing songs have been shattered by a replacement image of energetic small children insisting on running/jumping/spinning/sitting anywhere but their designated seat in the classroom. And as far as they look cute on the outside -- they're little devils inside.