Phoget About It

I love my weekends in Korea. I don't have to wear make-up, which is the best thing. I can put on a hoodie and not think about looking like a teacher for days. I can read and write and work out and study Korean and go sit somewhere for an extended amount of time without thinking about children. I can investigate the nuances of Korean existence. Mostly I drink a lot of coffee and doodle, but there we are.

My boon companion, Ellen of PandaBackpack.

Yesterday, I accompanied my ally-in-wandering-about, Ellen, to run an errand on the south side of Busan. We had hoped to procure ferry tickets to Japan for Chuseok, which is Korean Thanksgiving as well as one of the few times private schoolteachers have time off. It was a somewhat unproductive venture, but it left us with the rest of the afternoon free. On a rainy, windy day. Did we decide to go to a museum or something?  Yes, we did, but we changed our minds.  No, we didn't! We abruptly decided to wander around and look at things in the rain. Because we are explorers. Intrepid explorers.

Since we were in that part of the city anyway, we decided to go to the Gwangalli Beach. Ellen and I both live in Geumjeong, on the north side of the city. It takes us a long time to get to the sea, so if we're in the area, you better believe we're gonna see some ocean, no matter the weather. Gwangalli is known for its coffeeshops, restaurants, and nightlife. Nice area to visit and take pictures. Not usually what you do before a typhoon rolls in, but I feel I should remind you of the phrase intrepid explorers.

Stormclouds over Gwangalli.

There's Gwangan Bridge, looking beautiful and mysterious.

In Busan, there is always a mountain in the distance.

Seagulls chillin' on some rocks.

A view from the far end of the beach.

After much walking and the partial destruction of three well-meaning umbrellas, we decided to treat ourselves at a local Vietnamese restaurant known as The Pho. It was exquisite. It was filling. It was still moderately priced. And it was not Korean, which makes for a nice change. I don't care how good the food is anywhere I live, apparently I like having access to lots of, uh, food ethnicities? 

Right in your spicy face.

The tea was served cold and was vaguely reminscent of some kind of grain, though we couldn't put our finger on what, exactly, it was. Two kinds of pickled onions were featured.(It turns out that, in leaving the Bloomingfoods deli, I would miss pickled onions a lot. o_O) We ordered pho, which is a kind of warm soup made with spiced broth, rice noodles, bean sprouts, and sliced beef. It is also CRAZY DELICIOUS. Then we got the seafood fried rice, which was stellar. Don't let the innocuous plastic bottles by the side of the table put you off: one was this brownish paste that I knew the flaor of but couldn't name, and the other was a red chili sauce with a flavor that makes me want to laugh in the face of Sriracha.

Ellie may have been dubious about the ambience.

After The Pho, we went to a bunny-themed cafe that looks out over the beach, called Cafe Tokiwa, or something. (Toki means rabbit!) The prices were a smidge high, but the coffee was genuinely very good. The atmosphere left a little to be desired: there was some bunny action, but I could have taken some more bunnyness floating around. In Korea, you gotta really commit to a themed cafe. The stakes are high, in the game of cute.

It was pretty packed when we went, and the people there were studying very intensely, so it was a little uncomfortable. But I can imagine that in the winter, there is a definite dreamy wonder to the place.

My caramel macchiato NEEDS MORE BUNNY.

Ellen's latte. Koreans are uncommonly fond of foam doodling.

Then we took an alternate route back to the subway and got lost in a rainstorm for more than an extra hour. It was a good hike. It was hilarious. It was how every Sunday should be. :)

A bedraggled me. I almost called this post Typhoon Toria,
but then I decided, no. I shan't be starting that.

The Digs

It is raining in Busan - AGAIN - so I'm finishing up these blog posts I have started. Especially the picture ones! The following photos were taken the day I arrived, but I have to be honest, my apartment hasn't changed much. (THIS. IS. SPARTAN.)

Check out that wallpaper. Fantastic.

Quite frankly, I was quite pleasantly surprised by my spacious (har har) living space upon my arrival in Korea. True, the apartment is mind-bogglingly cramped, but I expected worse - and a few of my coworkers HAVE it worse, so I can hardly complain. My shabby digs are my own, at least. I don't have to share space with anyone but my swarms of mosquitoes and my ego.

Korean beds are sort...I don't know. Very hard and simple. My back hurts a lot. Then I have a nightstand and a bureau.Tiny orange garbage bin!

Hello, room of tile and mildew!

That endearing room yonder is my bathroom. The entire room is a shower, which is the norm in basic Korean living. That tiny window is the only ventilation for that room. Go ahead and imagine the mold situation in my apartment, I'll sit here and wait.

Mysterious.

So there are these faucets near the floor with some green tubes attached to them. I presume these are for cleaning the floor and other floor-like things. That is what I have used them for, the total of two times I've turned them on in the two months I've lived here.

To your right is my sink, which has my shower nozzle attached to it. I stand there and take showers. I try not to soak the door and send a puddle into my "living room". The whole showering process is inelegant and hilarious. I am still not really used to it. But at least I don't have to hunch over beneath a too-short shower head!

On a side note, Korean toothpaste tastes weird. Sincerely weird. I never thought toothpaste-taste would be a thing for me, but there you go.

Sometimes I sing to Korean strangers out of that window.

This is my kitchen! There is a sliding door to close it off from the other half of my apartment. This helps me save on air conditioning and heating! Which is cool. There is the other window in my apartment. It is large and I have set up a little homemade compost on the outside. I am so crafty.

I love to cook for myself (as some of my dear readers will know), but the sink and stove are soooooooo low for me. I think the kitchen is actually even short for my landlords, a darling elderly couple who bring me kimchi and heckle me for no reason. <3

True, it's tiny, the counter tops come up to the middle of my thigh, there is seriously tragic yellow wallpaper (YES LIKE THE FEMINIST SHORT STORY BY CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN), the provided bedspreads are flowery and short and pink, the bed is like a plank of wood, and it still smells faintly of a strange combination of old lady apartment and Asian grocery store, but it's the home I have, until I return to this one:

Indiana as I last saw her. Never thought I'd miss the bothersome bint. But there's more than corn, it would seem.