One thing is identical to before: I am on sabbatical. In fact, I am embarrassed to say that I am working on the same damn research project as last time I stayed in Korea, a project I should have finished years ago.
But many things are different: I am here not only with Erma, but also with Tek, our little 3-year-old boy. We are in Gyeongju 경주 慶州, not Seoul, and living with Erma's parents in their large, comfortable apartment. We have put Tek into Korean daycare. Erma and I have rented a studio apartment which we are using as a daytime office.
We have now been here for three weeks, just enough time for the contours of our daily routine to start to resolve. Perhaps the most gratifying thing to date has been how resiliently Tek has dealt with being completely uprooted and thrown into unfamiliar circumstances, and how game he has been for new adventures, new foods, and new experiences. The only truly difficult thing for him has been adjusting to his new daycare and the communication barrier, but over the last few days he has apparently found his footing there as well.
One of the great things about our set-up is that the three places that triangulate our lives—home, daycare, office—are within a five minute walk. In fact, our office is located right behind the daycare.
Our office is in Herren Haus. Don't ask my why it's called that, I don't know.
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| House of Lords! |
As I mentioned earlier, our "office" is really a studio apartment. I wouldn't want to live here, but it makes for a pretty great office.
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| Check out the funky-shaped little windows. |
We get to Herren Haus via a small alley right next to Tek's daycare. This is the view of the daycare from just outside the front door of Herren Haus.
The small alley is a functioning street, open to motor vehicle traffic. That doesn't stop people from parking there.
The "Since this is a STREET, NO PARKING" sign doesn't seem to be doing any good.
This behavior is entirely consistent with Korean driving culture. It has been an interesting exercise in moral philosophy trying to explain to our boy why every single car in the country is illegally (and dangerously) parked.
The only thing that is less than ideal about our situation is that the five-minute walk to school with the boy is incredibly terrifying. After we leave our apartment complex we only walk along two little streets for half a block each. But it is terrifying.
There are no sidewalks. The edge of the street, a three-foot wide strip demarcated by a dotted yellow line, which is supposed to be safe to walk on, is obstructed or cluttered by trash, rocks, detritus, glass, cement outcroppings, poles, and homemade "no parking" obstacles. None of this prevents cars from parking, reducing the two-lane road effectively to a one-lane road, through which cars speed with abandon despite the high density of pedestrians and cyclists. This is all normal to the local residents, but strikes fear in my parental heart.
Here are a few photos of the two streets we have to navigate. Erma and Tek are in a few of them.
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| Will you look at this thing is blocking the "sidewalk"? |
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| These plastic jugs weighted down with sand have been set out to prevent cars from parking here. They also prevent pedestrians from walking by. |
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| Notice the tow-away zone sign on the pole in the foreground! |
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| Guess we'll have to go out into the street again. |
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| Careful, Tek and Erma! |
By the way, in case it isn't apparent, I love it here.
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