You know the rest. Except it isn’t Old Macdonald, it’s old Kim or Lee or Park. Everywhere there’s a bit of land that isn’t covered with a home, an apartment building or business, the Koreans have turned into a source of food. I’m amazed at how resourceful they are and able to grow things in the smallest of places.

This guy has turned his smallish front yard into a cattle pen. There’s actually two cows there; a smaller one is laying down in front of the hay bale, it’s brown face just peeking out on the right. Most of the valley, any valley, is criss-crossed with stone walls similar to the one below his farm. I’ve often wondered how many people it took, how many years to build and how many years they’ve been there.

This lush wheat field is just a few 100 meters from my neighborhood. Cheonsang is just a small suburb that is built into the one of the many valleys of Munsu Mountain. Just past the point at which roads would be difficult to build, the farms take over. The wheat field is atop a short rise that makes for a nice green contrast from the stark white highrise apartments in the background. This patch of wheat is no bigger than a bus, but will give some old woman another bowl of foodstuffs to sell on her sidewalk grocery.

Further along the narrow valley, on the more gentle slopes, pear orchards abound. These require some serious infrastructure to hold them up as these are Ulsan Pears. Each pear is larger than a softball and can weigh almost a pound each. Grow a few of those on each limb and you can see why they need reinforcing rods and pipes to hold them up. They’re called Asian Pears back home and they absolutely rock! If you haven’t tried one yet – don’t. It’s better to save your money and get a fresh one here.

These lovely ladies were playing at a ceremony just around the corner from my apartment. There was some sort of official hoopla or other going on but I honestly don’t know what it was. I asked in my best, most polite Korean what was happening, but the women running the place spoke too rapidly and used vocabulary with which I was unfamiliar. So too, was the music, dancing, its purpose or any underlying symbolism there might have been. Of course, that adds to the mystery and adventure of it all, but sometimes I wish I weren’t in the dark all the time.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed their performance. I only caught the last few minutes of it. I heard the drums from my apartment for nearly 30 minutes before I realized it wasn’t some distant hammering but an actual drumbeat. I love the bright colors they wear. The paper hats are cute, too.

Most Korean cities look the same to me, once in the heart of them. Every city seems to have distinct neighborhoods, each with its own  infrastructure. Mine is no different and I’ve become quite enamored of its charms. Within a short walk from my home is the bank, the gym, several small grocery stores, multiple restaurants and, every five days, an open-air market.  Although I have a car, I use it only for excursions into town. Sometimes, it sits for days, parked out front, as I have no need to travel outside of Cheonsang (천상.)
I remember when I came back to America the first time. The isolation I felt within the first week until I bought a car. There was nothing within the immediate vicinity of our apartment in Plano except the Albertsons and a smattering of small shops across the street. I resented having to spend a decent amount of my savings on something to just get around town.

A different sort of isolation was also present, although not immediately evident.  Being in a car to get wherever I need to go, there’s no personal interaction with those around me. Here in my little neighborhood, as I walk from place to place, I am continually greeted by those I pass. Shopkeepers whom I have frequented will smile and bow as I pass. Children frequently say hello to test their English skills. My own students will stop and chat for a second, and if their parents are with them, will also chat briefly. Even strangers will sometimes smile and nod their head in a curt bow.

I feel connected to my surroundings. There are no megastores here, where everyone is just another faceless customer, although I can drive to those if need be.  In Cheonsang, nearly everything is small enough so that its customer base is a core set of those near it. That’s reflected in how people treat each other.

Other than having a yard and landscaping to enjoy, its hard to imagine the benefits of the American suburban lifestyle where everything is an automobile ride away. I might need some help in remembering why that’s a good way to build cities.

There aren’t many western restaurants in Ulsan. McDonald’s is everywhere, but there are only three sit-down style places I know of. There’s a TGI Fridays, a Bennigan’s and an Outback Steak House. Not many choices for a boy who needs some western food to balance out all the garlic and red pepper ingested over the previous few months. MyeongHee and I decided to go to Fridays this weekend. I ordered a grilled steak which was actually pretty decent (Outback pan fries their steaks, which I consider an abomination.)  MyeongHee ordered the “Sanghai Salad,” (bad spelling theirs) which she thought would be an Asian dish of some sort. It was sad to see it come out as some sort of Korean-ized version of an American-ized version of some marketing guy’s idea of what a Chinese salad might be. I had a few bites and don’t think I’ve ever had salad as hot as that. Even she thought it was to hot, and she’s accustomed to eating raw hot peppers that kick my butt. My tongue required more than a couple of dousings of water and beer to cool the heat.  I’m betting the red pepper liberally sprinked on was to blame. It was the same with the fries that accompanied my steak – just a bit too much red pepper to call them “French” fries.

I think I’ve been doing the right thing all along: any western food I have a hankering for should be properly prepared here at home with whatever fresh ingredients I can find. The Koreans tend to use red pepper as we westerners use black pepper.  They’re just not interchangeable.

I spent both Saturday and Sunday rock climbing this weekend. Saturday was here in Ulsan at Munsu Mountain, our typical haunt. One of our group of climbers, Dee, is heading back home to Canada this week and she wanted to see some of the other rocks faces. After a rip-roaring going away party on Saturday night, we all got up early and drove down to Busan to check out their mountains.

Nothing is terribly far away in Korea, although the lack of a multitude of highways, the mountainous countryside and the numerous cars on the road make any trip an adventure. It took us about an hour and a half to drive the 30 some kilometers to Busan. Once we got to the old fortress walls on Mt Geum Jeung, it took us about the same amount of time to find the cliff faces from the scanty directions we had. We scrambled our way among several paths (the directions said take “the” path without mentioning there were several) and we enjoyed the terrific view of central Busan from the top of Mt. Geum Jeung. We went back down and found the proper path, but not before taking a few pictures from the summit.

I usually like to just insert pictures, but this time I decided to put in a thumbnail photo and link to the real one. And another is here. Busan from Mt Geum Jeung There’s just too much detail to scrunch it all down in a web suitable shot. Behind and below me is Busan, with Busan National University in the foreground. In the far right behind me, buried in the haze, is the East Sea/Sea of Japan. I would have taken several more, but my camera batteries died early.

The mountain itself is ringed with the remains of a stone fortress dating back several hundred years. Numerous trails thread their way through the lush and hundreds of Koreans, old and young, hike the trails every weekend.

When we finally found the cliff walls, it was almost anti-climatic. The routes we exceedingly difficult, with 5.10a being the easiest there. It was like taking a long drive just to take a beating. We all climbed several, though, and I led a 5.10b, which completed my day. After the climb we drove back into Busan for a tasty meal of Kalbi before heading back to Ulsan.

On the way it started to rain. We’d finished an entire weekend with the rain finally coming at the end when it no longer mattered.

It’s 9:30 Sunday evening and I’m settling in for an hour or two of movies and some warm compresses for my worn out fingers.

This weekend I traveled with MyeongHee and two of her friends to Eunyong for a little excitement. First, we ate at a restaurant tucked back in the woods and had “오리” or wild duck. They also had wild rabbit and venison on the menu, which I would have loved to have tasted, but since most meals are eaten family style we voted on the duck. It was fabulous, cooked right in front of us and eaten wrapped in lettuce leaves and with various forms of fresh and pickled vegetables.

Eunyong was also having a flower festival for all the cherry blossoms in bloom. During the daytime, photography is much easier and highlights the plummage these trees sport.

At night they had an entire lane of blooming trees lit up. They formed a beautiful pink canopy of flowers under which an arts, crafts, food and fun fair florished. Unfortunately, I only had my camera phone which has doesn’t do very well at all in poor light. I hope this at least conveys the wonder of walking in a tunnel of pink.

Under this awning of pink, the shops and food stalls were an amazing sight. Had we not just feasted on wild duck I might have sampled some of the goodies. No less than a dozen hogs had selflessly sacrificed themselves for the festival and jumped onto huge spits over blazing fires. Piles of oysters shells littered some stalls.  Some things weren’t quite so appetizing.

Roasted Dolphin meat (above) and vegetable-stuffed, roasted squid (below)

After walking the nearly half-mile long tunnel of stalls and entertainment, we finished off the evening with a bottle of Soju (I stuck with Sprite) and grilled fish. For $10 we got a bottle of Soju, some soda, our own grill and big pile of fresh fish to grill them on.  I love grilled fish and picking it right off the grill with chopsticks was a tasty treat. Forks are sometimes too cumbersome and chopsticks make it extra easy to sift through the bones and grab just the tender flaky pieces.

On Sunday, MyeongHee and I traveled to Daegu for  a little shopping. Since half the country is Buddhist, the other half concedes the Easter holiday and most shops were open. Along the way, pear and apple trees graced the hills with white and pink blossoms while Kennedy shrubs with their bright yellow flowers  dotted the highway  barriers. In all, it was a fine weekend filled with flowers, friends and festivals.

Spring is very much here in Ulsan. The cherry blossoms are everywhere. Most of the dust that plagued us over the weekend has dissipated and skies are clear. It’s still quite cool at night, but just cold enough to feel crisp and clean. I took a couple of pictures from around town, but they can’t capture the essence of a drive along the river where the whole panarama of the bamboo forest, river and blossoms collide.

This picture is along the Taewha River that runs throught the middle of Ulsan. They’ve lined it with cherry trees which are in full blossom. Pears trees closer to the street will provide a brilliant green in just a few weeks. I like the contrasting pink blossoms with the  bright green hedge near the deep red brick sidewalk.

At the end of a path through a small grove of trees I found this small blossoming tree alongside a willow. It almost looks as if the willow is the one with flowers.

Entire fields are fluffy pink from all the blossoms. This looks like it might be outside the city in the country somewhere. In fact, it is near the busiest part of town. It is a bend in the Taewha river that is too low for development and the hillside beyond too steep. Just outside this view is a raft of aprtment buildings and shops.  Visible in the far right are a few of the rocks that comprise a small climbing area within sight of town.

A couple of weeks ago I took some pictures of the misty mountain of Munsu. Today, the mountain looks similar from down here in the valley, but that ain’t no mist. Neither is it fog or smog. The Koreans call it a “Hwang Sa” or “황사” if you set your browser to show Korean fonts.

The haze you see in these pictures is courtesy of the Great Gobi Desert in Northern China and Mongolia. Every spring the desert throws up a curtain of fine dust. Some years it isn’t too bad. The spring of 2005 it was barely noticeable,  but this year it’s pretty intense.

When I took these pictures, it was only about 5:30pm on Sunday. Normally still nice and  bright for a spring evening. But the bus has its lights on and the traffic lights would be barely visble if they weren’t on. Many of the people in Cheonsang outside are wearing masks. I walked to the store with my T-shirt over my nose. No one looked twice, pointed fingers or made fun of me. Other than a short trip for groceries and to take her home later in the evening, MyeongHee and I stayed indoors all day and watched movies. It was eerily quiet for a Sunday as everyone else seemed to be staying indoors unless they absolutely had to get out. The dust is very fine and can cause some nasty respiratory problems if you breath in too much of the stuff. On the news, the pictures from Seoul were far worse. They have about 50% more of the dust in the air than we do. Near the North Korean border, it’s twice the density of here.

Just for fun, here’s a picture from May of 2004 when I first moved into this apartment. The air is significantly clearer and the peak of Munsu is plainly visible behind the foothill in the foreground.