Hungry Ghosts: Part 1
by Leigh Hellman, ETA Alum The following is part 1 of a 3 part series, which will be published weekly on here on Infusion’s website. hungry ghosts “Tell me a Korean ghost story.” “Like Frankenstein—or Twilight?” “No. Those aren’t Korean. Aren’t there any Korean ghost stories? Any Korean monsters? There have to be.” They shrug. “몰라.” [1. ‘Mulla.’ “Don’t know.”] —– Park Chung-hee was assassinated on October 26th, 1979. He was shot in the head and in the chest by his security chief—and director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency—at whose safehouse he was attending an official dinner. Born in a single Korea strangled under Japanese annexation and colonial rule, Park rose through the Imperial Japanese and Republic of Korea Armies to the rank of general and finished his career off as the third president of the post-war Republic of South Korea. This Third Republic framed itself as a return to democratic civilian rule after a two-year military junta, and for the seventeen years that spanned the Third—and later Fourth—Republics, the Korean national economy witnessed staggering levels of growth that would ultimately set the stage for what Western capitalists sanctimoniously termed “The Asian Miracle.” In huge stretches of the southeastern province, which houses two of the six largest cities in South Korea as well as Park’s comparatively small hometown, he is a legend. In the province that helped elect his daughter as Korea’s first female president fifty-one years after her father’s reign began, the Parks are immortalized on screen-printed banners strung between street light poles at major intersections. There, Park Chung-hee is a national hero. In its neighboring province to the west, he is not. — It’s easy to forget that South Koreans have only lived under democratic rule—as propagated by American ideology so hopped up on misarticulated amendments that it can barely tell its Socratic from its Thermidorian—for less than thirty years. Gazing across the LED-backlit supernova of Seoul, weaving in and out of impeccably dressed herds with bi-gender heels clacking and the fastest fingers in the world typing texts out on domestically-engineered smartphones screens, in a land where calls don’t drop in tunnels or elevators and public subways have heated seats and run on military-precise schedules, foreigners can be forgiven for their misconceptions. When subtitled CNN newsfeeds telegraphing over plasma-screen TVs anchored delicately to corner walls in cafés aggressively debate on the despotic state to the north, I and you and them and we don’t remember what we were never truly taught to begin with. — “What was it like back then, during that time?” “It was different. A lot of things have changed, but not everything.” “What happened?” “We don’t usually talk about it.” They pause. “몰라.” [2. ‘Mulla.’ “Don’t know.”] — We say—us expats who land in Incheon as updated MacArthur pantomimes, full of millennial swagger and skin-language-passport season passes that whisper an inheritance to rule this place like our high-waisted ancestors ruled every place before it—we say that Korea gets to you. Gets in you. Korea grafts itself to your flesh and burrows down into your marrow and it becomes you, even though you can never become it. Stay long enough and you won’t be able to shake it, like a peculiarly virulent cold. Korea becomes an impulse to push through crowds without apology, a repetition of the question “밥을먹었어?” [3. ‘Babeulmeogeosso?’ “Rice ate?” (“Have you eaten today?”)] instead of “How are you?” It becomes assertions that sweet plum juice can help with digestion and that a scalding hot bowl of whole chicken stew on the hottest day of the year is objectively refreshing. It becomes an appropriated resentment of Japan, a fierce attachment to two craggy rocks [4. The islands of Dokdo.] that jut out of the sea between the Korean island of Ulleung-do and the western shores of Okinoshima. It becomes V-signs in pictures and staring at yourself in any passing reflective surface without shame and without arrogance—without realizing it at all. It becomes brushing your teeth after breakfast, lunch, and dinner and slurping hot noodles through lips and teeth and grilling meat with metal chopsticks. It becomes being surprised by shower curtains. It becomes waking up to phantom scents of spicy pickled cabbage and dropping articles in spoken English and a suffocating fire in your belly of you’ve got to get out got to escape that turns to chalky, ashy, lingering embers once you’re gone. — More than Korea, it’s Gwangju that’s sticky thick in my blood now. — Park Chung-hee and his Third Republic promised a reprieve they couldn’t—perhaps never intended—to deliver. The preceding ten-month military junta (known as the Supreme Council for National Reconstruction) had been touted as a temporary transition between the autocratic governments of the First and Second Republics and a more democratic system; it began as a coup orchestrated by then-Major General Park himself. As the junta’s power buckled, now-General Park left his military post so that he could run in the civilian elections—elections which he and other influential junta members had pledged not to enter. On October 15th, 1963, Park Chung-hee was elected president of the Third Republic of South Korea. Records indict that he defeated the Second Republic incumbent (and US-backed figurehead) by a margin of only 1.5477%, or 156,026 votes. — Koreans, if they’re being traditional about it, don’t do cemeteries. That’s not to say that there aren’t cemeteries in Korea, or that every Korean is stuffed into the soil when they die. There are bureaucratically bland sand-colored buildings that are filled floor to ceiling with small-stacked marble lockers labeled by uniform white plaques with three Chinese characters[5. For administrative purposes—birth, marriage, death—Koreans use the Chinese characters that represent their name instead of the Korean alphabetic spelling.], written top to bottom. The implication is urns, although it could (in many cases) be symbolic. I never really found a good time to ask. “어머니, 도와드릴까요?” [6. ‘Eomeoni, dowadeurilkkayo?’ “Mother, help will give?” (“Mother, can I help you?”)] My Korean is stunted, like a frustrated five-year old
One Place (원플레이스)
Review by Kristen O’Brien, ETA ’14-’16 City: Gumi (구미) Restaurant Name: One Place Food Served: Italian Restaurant Address: 경상북도 구미시 송정동 457-1 View Map Directions: Take the bus to the stop “송정여중입구 정류장 하차.” The walk from here is about 3 minutes. Walk straight until you reach a 4-way intersection. Turn right at the intersection and continue straight until you reach the main road (you will pass 2 more 4-way intersections). At the main road, make a left. The restaurant will be on your left. Cost: 8,000 won~20,000 won [slideshow_deploy id=’3487′] One Place is a new restaurant that just opened up in Gumi. The restaurant’s decor, as well as the dishes are all very modern (they use metal plates). The staff is super friendly, and the prices are very reasonable. One Place serves a variety of pasta, pizza, salad, steak, and appetizer dishes. I really like this restaurant, specifically for its fresh tasting ingredients. The bacon is nice and crispy (hard to find in Korea), and the cheese is stringy and tastes very fresh. A highlight of this restaurant is definitely the bar in the back. They have a ton of delicious cocktails and a variety of beers. I cannot rave enough about their sangria. It has a very fruity and crisp flavor, the perfect way to finish off any meal. Website: http://blog.naver.com/leeji4014
City Guide Review: Cafe Slow Life in Garden (Daegu)
Review by Arria Washington, ETA ’14-’16 City: Daegu (대구) Restaurant Name: Cafe Slow Life in Garden Food Served: Coffee, tea, sandwiches, dessert Restaurant Address: 수성구 범어3동 24-2 View Map Directions: To get there by subway, go to Beomeo station on Line 2, and take Exit 1. Walk straight a bit and make the first right. Then continue straight for five to eight minutes. You’ll eventually pass several other cafes including Café PR and Café Mama on your right. Keep straight until you see a GS25, then turn right. Slow Life is on your right. Cost: 3,000-6,500 won It’s hard to say what’s better at Slow Life in Garden- the food or the atmosphere. Part cozy home, part chic garden, and part art gallery. Although the place is pretty big (three floors and plenty of outdoor seating) it’s sectioned off into small areas that feel private. There are spaces perfect for getting work done, chatting with one or two friends, and lounging around in larger groups. There’s even area with plush white couches that can be reserved. All decorated with plants and set to a mellow, jazzy soundtrack. But if you go for the atmosphere, you’ll stay for the food and drink. The café serves teas, coffee, and cold drinks like smoothies and “ade”. The green grape ade is like a slushy all grown up, and great for summer weather. They also have cold sandwiches, like the chicken breast sandwich, and hot sandwiches like the double cheese tomato. Both are delicious, but if you are very hungry the tomato and cheese sandwich probably won’t fill you up. Anyway you will want to leave room for dessert. Handmade cakes, pies, and cheesecake all of which can compete with anything you’ve had back home. The service it great and food and drinks are served quickly. Most of the staff speaks English, and there is an English menu. Contact Info Tel: 053-643-2014 C.E.O. Mobile: 010-8460-6646 Facebook