All posts by Claire

About Claire

Wandering (and wondering) development professional and aspiring aid worker. Contact me on anticipationofwonder[at]gmail[dot]com

Dreams of kimchi-land

Daegu, travelling in Korea, ,

“We live, as we dream – alone…” Joseph Conrad

There is nothing quite like travelling alone to a foreign country to isolate one. This is not to say that I haven’t been loving every moment of seeing friends and family since returning. It’s amazing to see everyone but it also a reminder of how experiences isolate us. As a friend observed the other day, it’s the little things – the food, the household practices, cultural idiosyncrasies of a place far, far removed from anything those around me have ever known. A couple of months returned and I am particularly aware of those little things. I keep thinking of something or noticing things that remind me of Korea. It doesn’t seem rational. I am so very happy to be home and have no desire to go back. I guess when you live in a place for month upon month it gets under your skin and I always miss the places I’ve called home.

Some of the things I miss are obvious. I’m still subscribed to the ROKetship feed so I get each new cartoon and find myself laughing and thinking of the people who share that context. Some mornings I also wake up full of the urge to head to DongDaegu to take a train or a bus to Gyeongju or Busan or Seoul and go exploring. It’s a lot harder without that super-efficient public transport system. It’s also harder without a thousands-of-years-old Silla Capital and museums around every corner. Or an Opera House just across town. I miss living in a country that invests heavily in history, tourism and the arts.

I miss the little things too. Not even miss – I’m just aware of the difference and less comfortable in my own culture than I used to be. I feel just a little bit uneasy every time I suddenly register that I’m wearing shoes in the house. Anyone’s house. I miss having a ‘mart’ on every corner selling the basic essentials – like garlic and instant rice and plastic cheese slices and Spam. The shops are lovely and western and modern here – not to mention clean and pleasant – but they are so far away and wandering down aisle after aisle makes everywhere feel like Costco or HomePlus (which isn’t as good a thing as it seems like it should be). I find myself reverting to Korean – strangely most often when I’m trying to use a language other than English. Saying ‘Kam-sa-ham-nida’ to an Afrikaans-speaking bag-packer at the local PnP gets odd looks.

Other things are less expected. I miss eating with chopsticks. It’s not intellectual, either. I miss the feel of metal chopsticks in my hands. I feel the need to eat (ramen) noodles with chopsticks just to be eating with chopsticks. But really what I want is pajeon or galbi. Korean food. Proper Korean food, with all the side dishes – even the ones I don’t like. And, of course, kimchi. I miss kimchi. It is strange and odd and a little embarrassing, but I really do. I keep thinking about that Galbi place next to Festival downtown. Or the Hut. I miss the Hut. I miss the people and the place and the music and ‘Congratulations’. And dongdongju. Bizarrely, I miss Korean beer, but I think more for the sake of Somaek. Some days I want nothing more than to be able to head to the Hut after work at 9pm.

I miss that part of my life – far enough away now to be something that happened, another chapter. Missing places and people, like regret, is probably futile, except that it strengthens memories, histories. Things experienced alone only really exist in the mind of the experiencer. In remembering, we travel back to those places and those times and revisit, reinforce, sometimes recreate, what exists nowhere else. At least, that’s how I think of it – with a secret, private smile – when I suddenly feel that crazy urge to go to the hut or drink dongdongju or eat kimchi with metal chopsticks.

Cape Town fake day

Adventures, Cape Town, Friends, trains and train stations, ,

On Tuesday I got up early and headed to the station. I had planned to take the Premium Express train – a “business-class” train that runs between Strand and Cape Town each week-day, complete with complimentary coffee, tea, newspapers and SAPS-on-board. Sadly, it appears to be impossible to buy a single-journey/one-day ticket for this train.

So I found myself buying a perfectly ordinary Metro-plus return ticket on a perfectly ordinary (beautiful) Tuesday morning. I found a comfortable bench on the platform and waited. Other passengers drifted in and found their own benches. Some read books. Some stared into the distance. A community-safety volunteer in reflective vest wandered along the platform. A cleaning-lady was sweeping. The place was close to spotlessly clean already. She picked up a stray sweet paper. A delivery-man arrived with some pies and they chatted about her recent trip to the Transkei. It was so peaceful.

The train arrived and I climbed (well, stepped) aboard. I had a whole carriage to myself for a while, but then one or two others joined me. The trip was quiet and beautiful. I sat at the window and looked out at a beautiful world. Mountains rose in the distance. A dam sparkled in the morning sun. Arum lilies grew beside of the railway line, white on green.

We passed settlements – suburbs? townships? – where houses were being built and extensions done and walls painted. Everywhere building, growing, developing. But pretty rather than commercial. Attractive. Each house with a garden, some just lawn, some with beautiful flowers. Hibiscus flowered next to jasmine. It was so good to see built-up areas with space and light and gardens.

As we came into Cape Town, the mountain rose huge and magnificent above the city bowl. My sister has this concept of ‘fake days’ – days that are so beautiful if they were pictures they’d be rejected because they’d be unrealistic. This was a ‘fake day’ in Cape Town. Seriously, no one city should be allowed to be that pretty. It was exquisite.

I met a friend at the station. They’ve just redone Cape Town station. It’s huge and open with shiny tiles and brand new, easy-to-read signage. It looks good. Most South Africans – or at least those born into or who have now reached the ‘class’ where they can mortgage their lives to buy a car – never use public transport. It makes me a little sad because they miss out on so much. When you’re in a car, even if you’re not driving, you miss out simply because roads tend to have more houses beside them than railway tracks. I had a moment of wondering what would get South Africans back onto public transport. The whole experience from beginning to end was great for me.

Friend and I wandered off into Cape Town. We started at a super sandwich place and then took a wonderful, gentle stroll. We went down to the Artscape to look at the Zebras. The Zebras are part of an exhibition around the theme “not all is black and white”. They’re fascinating and add yet another reason to visit Cape Town city centre.

Later, after various stops around the city, we made our way to Company Gardens. The day was still ridiculously beautiful. The sun streamed into the lush, green gardens as we wandered along the shady paths and squirrels scuttled up trees and flocks of pigeons took off in a flutter of wings. Some seagulls have moved into the gardens and as we watched, muscled their way in on the crumbs people were throwing to the pigeons. I felt a little sorry for the pigeons. The seagulls, in turn, were displaced by a set of amorous Egyptian geese. I was lovely to sit in these quiet, beautiful gardens with the lunchtime crowds settled on the grass enjoying the beautiful weather.

Later, after that friend headed off back to work, I caught a cab to the Waterfront. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the Waterfront. Ultimately, a mall is a mall but after a long stint in a country that doesn’t really have malls in the sense that we do, it’s pleasant and relaxing and just a little luxurious to wander around an upmarket mall full of brand-name stores, the gorgeously rich scents of chocolate and coffee, the glimmer of artificial light off perfectly polished tiles and freshly painted signs and walls. If feels safe, secure and familiar. I had coffee with a friend at a little chocolatier and coffee shop that served the most delicious chocolate eclairs. It was a delightful place. The whole mall was fairly empty on a random Tuesday afternoon. Here I think it was just us and perhaps one other table. We drank coffee with sugar lumps. Luxury comes in many forms; good coffee, delicious sweets and delightful conversation is one of my favourites.

Back at the station, I found my platform, thanks to the friendly and efficient info desk, and hopped onto my train. I travelled through the growing dusk towards Strand Station. There were far more people on the train this time – my carriage was full. It was still beautiful. I got back before dark and headed home to change before going off to have dinner with two more friends.

A beautiful day of sunshine in stupidly pretty city and lots of wonderful time with friends.

Slow bus to Somerset West

bus, South Africa,

I travelled to Somerset West by bus last Thursday evening. Most people hate long bus trips. The seats are small and you have to sit for hours and you’re on a bus. Sometimes I agree, when I’m stuck in a non-window seat with a large and/or baby-carrying person next to me. But most of the time I love them. My only sadness is that South African long-haul bus trips tend to be overnight so you end up sleeping half the way and missing out on all the beautiful views. This trip I managed a few hours of beauty before I fell asleep.

I get on the bus in King William’s Town. The sun is going down and it’s starting to get chilly. It isn’t cold on the bus. So many people and the aircon. It’s warm, actually. I settle into my window seat and watch the world go by. The seat is just off-centre enough that I can’t see the random movie (Grease, I think) but I have a better view. The sunset is beautiful over the Eastern Cape veld. At the edges of the world pink and purple and apricot fade to blue.

Beyond Grahamstown, the stars come out, sparkling in a velvet-blue sky. The night is clear and bright. The moon must be nearly full. They’ve turned the lights off in the bus and, looking out, I can see the dry grass and the thorn trees and the rolling hills, peaceful and magical in the green-blue light.

Somewhere around Port Elizabeth, I fall asleep. Sleeping on a bus isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Luckily I sleep quite easily. I forgot to bring something to use as a pillow this time, so end up with a stiff neck. It doesn’t matter though. I wake up in Jeffrey’s Bay and then fall asleep again and sleep like a baby until the bus’s morning stop at 3am. I’m not sure why they stop at 3am.

On the last part of the trip, in the early hours Friday, it starts to rain a little. These are the apple-farming bits of the Western Cape. The cloud is low and misty. Small towns rise in the dawn light, church spires dark against low clouds. The road is a dark, wet ribbon through the brush. We head up the pass. As we climb further and further, the world disappeared in misty cloud. It’s eerie.

And then, suddenly, we emerge from the mist and spread before us is one of the most beautiful parts of my world – the lights of Cape Town, table mountain in the distance and Somerset West, Strand, Gordon’s Bay in the foreground, with the beautiful beach lapping at their feet. The bus is early. Even as I wait, the clouds break up and a perfect, sunny day takes hold of the beautiful Western Cape.

The weather in the Western Cape is usually fairly crappy in the winter – raining for weeks on end and always chilly and damp and dark. Since I arrived, the sun has been shining almost non-stop. I am certainly not complaining – this part of the world is exquisitely beautiful on still, sunshine-filled days. I keep getting excited about the prettiness. It feels almost too good to be true, as if this old home of mine, this old playground is putting on a show to woo me and welcoming me back.

Slow bus to Somerset West

I travelled to Somerset West by bus last Thursday evening. Most people hate long bus trips. The seats are small and you have to sit for hours and you’re on a bus. Sometimes I agree, when I’m stuck in a non-window seat with a large and/or baby-carrying person next to me. But most of the time I love them. My only sadness is that South African long-haul bus trips tend to be overnight so you end up sleeping half the way and missing out on all the beautiful views. This trip I managed a few hours of beauty before I fell asleep.

I get on the bus in King William’s Town. The sun is going down and it’s starting to get chilly. It isn’t cold on the bus. So many people and the aircon. It’s warm, actually. I settle into my window seat and watch the world go by. The seat is just off-centre enough that I can’t see the random movie (Grease, I think) but I have a better view. The sunset is beautiful over the Eastern Cape veld. At the edges of the world pink and purple and apricot fade to blue.

Beyond Grahamstown, the stars come out, sparkling in a velvet-blue sky. The night is clear and bright. The moon must be nearly full. They’ve turned the lights off in the bus and, looking out, I can see the dry grass and the thorn trees and the rolling hills, peaceful and magical in the green-blue light.

Somewhere around Port Elizabeth, I fall asleep. Sleeping on a bus isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Luckily I sleep quite easily. I forgot to bring something to use as a pillow this time, so end up with a stiff neck. It doesn’t matter though. I wake up in Jeffrey’s Bay and then fall asleep again and sleep like a baby until the bus’s morning stop at 3am. I’m not sure why they stop at 3am.

On the last part of the trip, in the early hours Friday, it starts to rain a little. These are the apple-farming bits of the Western Cape. The cloud is low and misty. Small towns rise in the dawn light, church spires dark against low clouds. The road is a dark, wet ribbon through the brush. We head up the pass. As we climb further and further, the world disappeared in misty cloud. It’s eerie.

And then, suddenly, we emerge from the mist and spread before us is one of the most beautiful parts of my world – the lights of Cape Town, table mountain in the distance and Somerset West, Strand, Gordon’s Bay in the foreground, with the beautiful beach lapping at their feet. The bus is early. Even as I wait, the clouds break up and a perfect, sunny day takes hold of the beautiful Western Cape.

The weather in the Western Cape is usually fairly crappy in the winter – raining for weeks on end and always chilly and damp and dark. Since I arrived, the sun has been shining almost non-stop. I am certainly not complaining – this part of the world is exquisitely beautiful on still, sunshine-filled days. I keep getting excited about the prettiness. It feels almost too good to be true, as if this old home of mine, this old playground is putting on a show to woo me and welcoming me back.