even dora is bi

i felt a little silly that morning, being so impressed with the young girl working behind the counter at the seven-eleven in downtown seoul, south korea.

of course she spoke korean to the first two customers in line. but the third customer, an elderly woman, was clearly japanese. the young counter girl easily slid into fluent japanese, and helped the woman find some hand cream she had been searching for.

when i stepped to the counter, she smiled and said "were you able to find all your items?" and continued in clear, plain english.

i really shouldn't have been surprised. multilingualism isn't unusual; in fact, it's the norm for most of the world's societies. even dora the explorer speaks two languages.

and then there's this.

south korea's having a bad day

now that we’ve left south korea and we’re back in happy japan i can say it: korea is grumpy mc-two-shoes. wow.

when we returned to manhattan last year from our first trip to japan, i could be heard around town telling friends how kind the japanese people are. “in two months no one pushed me or shoved me and i was never in anyone’s way. it was great!” first impressions are sometimes a bit skewed (i used to sort of like lou dobbs until i realized what a blowhard he is) and upon returning to nihon this year, i realized it is not quite as clean, as friendly, or as polite as i’d remembered. don’t get me wrong, it’s ten times friendlier than pretty much anywhere i’ve been in the states (including columbus.) but the rosy picture i painted of “never being in anyone’s way?” perhaps a touch too rosy.

and then we went to korea.

let me backtrack and say i’ve reconsidered my earlier remarks: japan is by far the cleanest, friendliest, most polite place i’ve ever been. seriously.

now. korea.

have i mentioned how polite the japanese are?

within five minutes of arriving in seoul, south korea i was pushed, shoved, and bumped into more times than i have been pushed or shoved in three years of living in manhattan. if you live in manhattan, you know what kind of pushing and shoving i’m talking about. now maybe i sound like a woose here. “oh, someone pushed you did they? it wasn’t all nice, and cute like you wanted, little baby american person?” go ahead and mock. the next time you’re climbing up the side of a mountain and someone seriously nudges you out of the way when there’s about a half an inch of trail between you and no trail…well. you’ll be a woose too.

and can you say “korean stank-eye?" walking down the street in seoul i often felt like i was a hobo intruding on a private dinner party. like i had just personally offended the mother of every fourth person i passed. “what are you doing here?” they said with their eyes. “i don’t trust you for a minute.” “that hairstyle is so 80’s." "i bet you don't even like pig intestine."

that said, the theater we played – the sejong center – was stunning, the korean audiences were wildly enthusiastic (unlike the very polite, and sometimes very quiet japanese audiences) and the lotte hotel was the best i’ve ever stayed in (you really can’t beat remote control curtains.) and at the top of that mountain, at the end of the trail was a very sweet, very dear man who not only offered to take my picture, but gave me a gigantic korean apple, and struck up a bright little conversation.

of course, he was japanese.

impressions of...korea

check out those buns!

the coffee bun, so far as i can tell, originated in singapore. no wait, it's indian. or...malaysian. mexican? oh hell, i don't know. if you do, clue me in.

i discovered them in seoul, south korea, in the food court of the lotte department store. this was no ordinary "food court," however. and these were no ordinary buns. (that's what she said.)

pappa roti was the brand/franchise. roti=bread, or in this case bun, i.e. the father of all buns. but there are others: roti boy, roti mum. it's a cinnabon, i thought. upon further inspection, it looked too bready to be a cinnamon roll. and the swirl of creamy stuff going on top, prior to baking...was it sweet? sugary? it seemed to disappear as the buns baked...or bake right into the dough.

as difficult as it is to describe them, i will try: they are a bready, unbelievably light, freshly baked bun that has a somewhat crusty topping which gives them a slight maple taste. inside, there is a tiny splotch of butter. butter. they melt in your mouth, they are not overwhelmingly sweet, and are perfect with a cup of coffee.

and since i had my first taste, i haven't stopped craving them.

shiney happy

hyangwon-jeong pavilion, on the gyeongbok palace grounds. built in 1867, seoul, south korea. gyeongbok is korean for shining happiness.

i'm a seoul man

visiting japan for the first time last year, i was comforted by the fact that i'd been listening to "rapid japanese" on my ipod for weeks prior to the trip and could at the very least engage in a tiny conversation (hello! how are you? i am fine. where is the toilet? how much for the mayonnaise drops?) by the time we arrived this year, my partner rob was fluent enough to negotiate a contract, order a five course dinner, or explain the intricacies of the japanese constitution to a four year old. and read it to him.

we landed in seoul, south korea today with a stark realization: none of us speak a lick of the language. not even rob-san. when we arrived at our unbelievably posh hotel (remote control window curtains, a 700-inch plasma television, and a bed that swallows you whole when you lie down) our friend and company manager tomoki handed out our room keys, smiled and said "okay, see you at 12:45 on thursday."

in other words, you're free, you're on your own, and good luck suckahs!

initially, our hunger threatened to turn us against each other (we could easily have voted someone off the island.) somehow, though, we struggled through the busy streets, and three of us ended up at a korean barbecue. one of about a hundred korean barbecues near our unbelievably posh hotel (seriously, you could stage a decent production of "fiorello" in the bathroom.)

we didn't even know how to call the server over to our table. it didn't seem to matter, as she just laughed at us and basically told us what to order. and how much of it. and it was delicious: strips of pork, beef stew, onions, garlic and mushroom cooked at our table, plus side dishes of spicy cabbage, apple potatoe salad, barbecue crab, and lettuce wraps.

for dessert we went to korean krispy kream. i skipped the black bean filled donut, opting instead for the traditional glazed.

first impressions: it's dirtier than japan, but not as dirty as new york. it's ruder than japan (much ruder) but not as rude as new york. and it's louder than japan, but not as loud as...uh-huh, new york.

and the man behind the counter at the seven-eleven speaks korean, japanese and english. are there any seven-eleven employees in the u.s. who speak three languages, i wonder?