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map of South Korea provided by G--gl-, showing our wanderings and bus-hoppings, from arrival (Vladivostok, Russia) to departure (Osaka, Japan). |
This post and the
previous one intend to give you a fair idea of what we had a chance to see, experience and enjoy (or not so much) while busing (or buzzing?) through South Korea. Among other things, we faced some daily challenges, ate gorgeous food, slept in exotic settings and tasted a mouthful of the local rain. Needless to say our stay was short (about two weeks in total) and our experience, partial. We used public transportation, tried to live outdoors as much as possible and carried two insanely huge backpacks, one daypack AND a little groceries trolley. It was actually in Chiaksan National Park that we randomly bumped into a backpackers' scale by the rangers' cabin and finally weighed our backpacks. Due to our work schedule back then, we
packed at the very last minute, the day before giving our house's keys back and getting on a
bus headed to Berlin... We noticed they were (freakin') heavy and assumed they weighed something close to 15 or 17 kg. The scale may have been crooked, but it was sure enough closer to reality than we were: 18 kg for Wallis' backpack and 23 for Futuna's. Ouch! Diz explains dat. It was in Riga when Wallis started to talk about "making a list of non-indispensable items, putting them in a cardboard box and sending them back home so as to ease our shoulders and make the whole thing a bit easier". And there we were, after half the world and over a month on public transportation! But knowing the actual figures of the torture we were self-inflicting somehow made a difference. From that moment, there was no turning back: we started to look at stuff like the solar shower and the 496 pages of the SDL Trados Studio 2015 User Manual*, to name only these, with a mixture of anger and bitterness. Sad but true. But sad. But still true.
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this is what we wished we'd look like while backpacking in South Korea and... |
So by the time we got to Gyeongju, we were (again!) sweaty, tired, slow-moving and not really integrated in the local atmosphere. You probably know this awkward feeling when you suddenly realize your perception is just an illusion and reality - regardless of what might be hiding behind this delusive concept - is at a comfortable distance. By the time we left the bus station on our way downtown, our Dharma bum attitude was challenged by a couple of traveling monks whose outfit and bundle made us jealous. Fortunately, there were some fat, big, cheap coin lockers at the train station; before thinking twice, we dropped almost everything there in order to be able to explore the city and find a place to camp/stay for the night. The weather forecast kept promising a typhoon, suggesting traveling south and fast would be our only escape. That's when we remembered our dear A. and his sister L.'s advice not to leave South Korea without spending a night at a jimjilbang. "-
a what? - a jim-jil-bang! Now, this is such an amazing thing it is hugely popular among both locals and the many tourists/expats from everywhere around the world. It's almost disturbing to think we spent over a week before giving it a try! In case you need a proof, check
this blog and do a little g--gl- research: Italian is only one of the many languages to use and document this magic word!
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...this is what we actually looked like while backpacking in South Korea (sigh!). |
A jimjilbang is basically a spa, the equivalent of a Japanese
onsen, with all the basic - and not so basic - facilities to shower, bathe, chill and rest in a hot and humid atmosphere with cold, warm and insanely hot tubs, steam rooms and saunas. As an illustration of the "insanely hot" thing, please find attached a picture of the main sauna at Gyeongju's most iconic jimjilbang: not many of you might be able to read through it, it should nonetheless give you an idea of how "insanely hot" it actually gets! But temperature is not even the main feature: upon entering and paying a small fee (about 10 euros, sometimes less, sometimes more), men and women go two different ways. Customers are given a gown and several towels - blue for men, pink for women - before accessing a locker area where all clothes and belongings are left. Most of your time is then spent naked, all sitting together on wooden stools in a open bathroom hall. The objective there is to get a thorough shower, using loads of soap and small buckets of steaming, natural hot water. Men also shave, spit and clip their finger nails. Women may do the same, but apparently also chat a lot - while the men's quarters are solemnly silent. Once your skin is homogeneously red and wrinckled, you're allowed to walk to the tubs and saunas. You may get a massage, relax on a massage chair (the cheap version) or head to the mixed area to meet your pink (or blue) fellow.
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pictures are strictly forbidden inside, so here's the insanely hot spa: from outside ; from a technical point of view ; and from the lobby/sleeping area. |
There you'll find a bar, hot water, instant noodles and different TV screens scattered on the walls of a vast hall where people chill and take a nap. Jimjilbangs are open 24 hours, 7 days a week and access is not limited in time. As long as you pay the entry fee, you can stay as long as you wish. Yes, that means overnight. And yes, that means the next few days too, if you want to and have enough spare coins to feed on noodle soup cups... So basically: for about three or four times less than the cheapest hotel/guesthouse in town, you get to spend whole days in a bathroom amusement park, eating junk food, sleeping on a wooden floor amidst fifty or sixty other people and getting as many hot showers and sauna sessions as your body can handle! Why would you ever get out to a UNESCO world heritage area? Why would you want to go outside and visit a beautiful, rich and vibrant historical city? We did it, though, the next morning.
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a rice field straight out of Gyeongju, free of giant moles... |
And did well, since Gyeongju is a true gem, full of art, culture, history and food. A gem, first (and not least!), thanks to its central market, where we had breakfast the next morning: the closest-to-divine food we ate in the whole country (if not in our entire lives - bold statement, sure enough exaggerated but does it really matter?). Not only did the fish and groceries look gorgeous, the place was a labyrinth of narrow alleys where fabrics, goods, crafts, sweets and pickled stuff would have taken days to check and taste, be it with the eyes only... At the place we picked to sit and have breakfast, the rules were clear and strict: "Shut up and eat!" The sequence of solid, liquid, hot and cold things being served suffered no intervention. A firm hand is worth one thousand words: "eat this, now drink that, now put some of these in this plate and mix that in this bowl of soup. More! Drink it! Chew that! Here's the egg! More of this, now! Okay, enough! (
She was an older, exotic version of Rachel, this catalonian guide/hostess at the most gigantic Cava cellars in the world** who often traumatized "my" US clients when serving them a glass at the end of the tour: if "¿Le gusta? Beba, beba!" is fine in Spanish, her own English translation "You like? You drrrink, you drrrink!" sounded a bit too imperative to the peaceful retired Northern Americans I'd bring there after visiting Montserrat on a bus tour... Rachel was indeed an extremely nice and knowledgeable tour guide and she often gave me a bottle of Cordon negro I then could pass on to the bus driver, which made our professional relationship much smoother. Those were good times...). But let's be fair: tyranny never tasted that nice. And topped up with
kimchi straight from the jar, it only got better! Let's be even fairer: that morning, I had the (breakfast) time of my life. Before leaving, we bought some extra meat balls, rice balls, kimchi and some surprise dough stuffed with surprise stuff, all neatly wrapped in
furashiki-style. We went out to explore the town and its "historical park", castle, museum, temples and "old" district. We even randomly found -while looking for an internet
café to hide from the rain- a big hangar built over an ancient bridge (and consequently over a river), in order to give the workers shelter during the several years of its restoration. Cool, impressive... and very convenient!
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