Korea in Crisis

That's right--CRISIS. It's finally happening, people.

Those of you who have been regular readers since I started posting about Korea have probably had your fill of my ranting and raving about the terrible weather. If that is the case, feel free to skip the next paragraph as I catch everyone else up.

When I arrived in Korea on November 1, 2009, it was all ready a good deal colder than I was used to, having come from California where the weather is perfect almost the whole year through. Within the week I was cursing my stupidity not to pack my winter coat (which my parents then shipped over to me at great cost), and within the month we had already had several snow storms. As if that wasn't bad enough, this cold miserable weather persisted until May, when it finally got nice for three whole weeks before suddenly dropping right into summer weather. And we're not talking California summer. We're not even talking Texas summer. It was between 90-100 F every day and 99% humidity to top it off. This misery lasted until halfway through September, when literally overnight the temperature dropped 30 degrees and we were suddenly plunged into the crisp autumn weather that I am currently enjoying.

Now if you can imagine me--poor little California-acclimated me--suffering through all of the terrible weather, can you just imagine how the rest of the population on the Korean peninsula dealt with it? Not well, let me tell you.

Korea is in crisis, all right. Its obvious to every mother doing her daily grocery shopping, to every business man going out to dinner with his colleagues, to every old lady willing to elbow others in the face to get what she needs to survive.

And its all because there is a cabbage shortage in South Korea.

Yes, the brave Napa cabbage, hundreds of thousands of tons of which are sacrificed every year to feed the nation's kimchi addiction, has perhaps experienced the most desperate struggle against the elements of anyone on the peninsula. Kimchi is served as a free side dish at almost all restaurants, including pizza parlors and Chinese take-out places, but with the cabbage crop down almost 40% from last year, there may not be enough of this staple to go around. The Korean government has had to ease trade restrictions with China to allow them to begin exporting cabbages into Korea. The government is also selling cabbage to markets at reduced cost so that more households can get what they need to survive. While they are encouraging people to enjoy the other types of kimchi (radish and green onion among them), the Korean have been griped by a panic that their most beloved food might soon disappear.

This crisis has been affecting everyone in different ways. A man was arrested in Gangwon-gu for stealing 40 heads of cabbage from a field, and the farmer is seeking a prison sentence of 10 years for it. Ajumas have started getting up...well at the same "before dawn" time as normal, but instead of going hiking or shopping with their friends, they are waiting in droves outside of supermarkets, hoping to get their hands on some of this elusive cabbage and then paying 350% more per head for it. Perhaps the saddest sight of all is the faces of the school children, who see that the kimchi on their lunch plate has been replaced with radish kimchi, which they know to be wildly inferior to the cabbage variety.

Foreigners have not been as deeply impacted by this crisis as others, but we too feel its sting. At the Chinese restaurant down the street where many of the teachers like to eat between classes, the side of kimchi that we have come to expect with each meal has been replaced with a side of raw onion. Perhaps there is at least a little comfort in that the owner knows there is no point in trying to pretend. The Napa cabbage has suffered, and come winter I know I will be among the first foreigners to line up at a volunteer center to wrap the heads of cabbage in warm blankets for the impending chill. Won't you join me?

I'd like everyone to take a few seconds for a moment of silence in honor of these brave souls that perished as a result of the aberrations in the Korean climate.

**Note: if you want to look at a more realistic (read: more serious and accurate) article about the kimchi crisis, go here.

Chuseok Reminiscing

So Chuseok has come and gone and I am sitting down to another few months of nonstop work/graduate school stuff. Chuseok was great though. I made it down to Daegu to see off a good friend who is leaving at the end of the month and then took a detour to Busan to see the sights. I even managed to stay inside my incredibly tight budget (which, for any one who knows me, should come as something of a shock).

Busan was great, albeit incredibly hot and humid. My first day I took a walking tour of the harbor, then went down to the fish market and peered at all the (still living) gooey and slimy dinner specials, watched a vendor start a tuber squirting fight with her neighbor, and then turned down 14 ajumas who wanted me to stay and eat with them. Afterward, I headed up the hill towards Busan Tower. The view from the top was pretty cool, and as I got there just as the sun was going down I got some pretty awesome pictures of the skyline.

The next day I was scheduled to leave at around 5pm, so I woke up early (10am) and headed out to find one of the cool temples I had heard about. I decided to avoid the popular Beomeosa in favor of a smaller temple called Haedong Yonggungsa. It was a pain in the butt to get to--I had to rely on my own dubious Korean listening skills during a 40 minute bus ride and then hike up a small mountain (it felt like a mountain anyway) to get to the cliff where the temple is located. I was rewarded by the breathtaking view and another kind little ajuma who gave me free oranges to eat. Don't let the scenic view and the refreshing sea breeze fool you though. To leave the temple, you have to walk back up all 108 stairs that represent the Buddhist concept of the 108 worldly desires that we all suffer from. Believe me, they didn't forget any.

I know its taken me a while to get this post up, and I hope that you'll forgive me. I sit the GRE in 2 weeks and 5 days, so I'm trying to find all methods of procrastination open to me as I get closer to the inevitable doom. Also, my statement of purpose may or may not be trying to consume my soul. I'll get back to you on that if and when ever I have enough written to actually start requesting recommendation letters. On the other hand, the weather is finally agreeing with me, and I've enjoyed the view from my window of the rapidly turning leaves and the crisp air coming down from the mountain side. It is truly the stuff poetry is made of.