All posts by Claire

About Claire

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

I am postman

Daegu, ,

Being abroad in the 21st century is far, far simpler than it was in, say, the 1800s. Particularly in terms of the ease of maintaining communication with those loved ones left behind and/or, as is so often the case now, also off in random foreign countries. The internet and cellphones have made communication quick, easy and convenient. The only thing we’re missing is the tangible connection of packages sent across the seas. So when a parcel does arrive, it’s a really big deal.

This week, the postman came to my door, with parcel in hand, not once, but twice. The first time – Monday morning – with a parcel sent by my amazing family back home. I knew they had sent the parcel but didn’t really think it would arrive before Christmas. It had only been sent 10 days earlier and I’d heard that parcels take 6 weeks to arrive even from rich, developed nations, let alone South Africa. (For the record, Postnet rocks! Especially Postnet Beacon Bay.) So, I was thrilled when I got a call on my cell from someone who couldn’t speak much English but managed enough to say ‘I am Postman’. I rushed outside to collect and sign for the package. I was thrilled. I made my day. My amazing family sent a whole bunch of Christmas presents, which are now piled up on my kitchen table waiting for me to open them on Christmas Eve. They also sent Prestik which makes me deliriously happy . I still don’t understand how a country as “technologically advanced” as Korea doesn’t have prestik.

The second parcel wasn’t from overseas but it was still pretty awesome. After the success of the delivery from home – and in a rush of patriotic feeling – I ordered some biltong from a group that makes and delivers it here in South Korea. For those who come from countries where patriotism involves flags, anthems and limiting civil liberties, yes, eating uncooked, cured meat does count as patriotism. In fact, add a rugby or soccer (football) jersey and some SAB beer and you have most of the elements of South African patriotism (with the possible addition of a vuvuzela and maybe some pap). In recent years, scattered South Africans have dealt with their homesickness by making their own biltong in their new/temporary countries. And in some cases passing it on to other homesick South Africans (who very willingly cover the cost).

The delivery of this second package was a little more complicated. I was out when the postman tried to deliver. The system here differs a little to the one at home. In SA, when you have a parcel, the post office will deliver a slip saying you need to pick it up from your local post-office branch. Here they bring it to your door – thankfully, as I have no idea where the local branch is. But when you’re not there, this can cause problems. Or not. On Friday evening, I received a call from a nice man who told me (in English) that he was a representative from the Daegu post office and that they had a package they needed to deliver to me. He then asked for an exact time on Saturday when I would be home so that the postman could bring round the package. All very efficient. The package was delivered on Saturday morning, on time and in perfect condition.

The post office workers here must find it frustratingly complicated to deliver to all these strange foreigners but I’m very grateful for their efficiency and determination. I can see how the postman could become a favourite person in a new country and totally think they should follow the Joburg  garbage collectors’ example and start asking for Christmas boxes – they could make a fortune.

They certainly made my week. As precious as regular electronic communication is, there is nothing quite like a box of joy and love to make the day, and in this case Christmas, and to help you feel connected to home, no matter how far away you are.

I am postman

Being abroad in the 21st century is far, far simpler than it was in, say, the 1800s. Particularly in terms of the ease of maintaining communication with those loved ones left behind and/or, as is so often the case now, also off in foreign countries. The internet and cellphones have made communication quick, easy and convenient. The only thing we’re missing is the tangible connection of packages sent across the seas. So when a parcel does arrive, it’s a really big deal.

This week, the postman came to my door, with parcel in hand, not once, but twice. The first time – Monday morning – with a parcel sent by my amazing family back home. I knew they had sent the parcel, but didn’t really think it would arrive before Christmas. It had only been sent 10 days earlier and I’d heard that parcels take 6 weeks to arrive even from rich, developed nations, let alone South Africa. (For the record, Postnet rocks! Especially Postnet Beacon Bay.) So, I was thrilled when I got a call on my cell from someone who couldn’t speak much English but managed enough to say ‘I am Postman’. I rushed outside to collect and sign for the package. I was thrilled. I made my day. My family had sent a whole bunch of Christmas presents, which are now piled up on my kitchen table waiting for me to open them on Christmas Eve. They also sent Prestik which makes me deliriously happy . I still don’t understand how a country as ‘technologically advanced’ as Korea doesn’t have prestik.

The second parcel wasn’t from overseas but it was still pretty awesome. After the success of the delivery from home – and in a rush of patriotic feeling – I ordered some biltong from a group that makes and delivers it here in South Korea. For those who come from countries where patriotism involves flags, anthems and limiting civil liberties, yes, eating uncooked, cured meat does count as patriotism. In fact, add a rugby or soccer (football) jersey and some SAB beer and you have most of the elements of South African patriotism (with the possible addition of a vuvuzela and maybe some pap). In recent years, scattered South Africans have dealt with their homesickness by making their own biltong in their new/temporary countries. And in some cases passing it on to other homesick South Africans (who very willingly cover the cost).

The delivery of this second package was a little more complicated. I was out when the postman tried to deliver. The system here differs a little to the one at home. In SA, when you have a parcel, the post office will deliver a slip saying you need to pick it up from your local post-office branch. Here they bring it to your door – thankfully, as I have no idea where the local branch is. But when you’re not there, this can cause problems. Or not. On Friday evening, I received a call from a nice man who told me (in English) that he was a representative from the Daegu post office and that they had a package they needed to deliver to me. He then asked for an exact time on Saturday when I would be home so that the postman could bring round the package. All very efficient. So, the package was delivered on Saturday morning, on time and in perfect condition.

The post office workers must find it frustratingly complicated to deliver to all these strange foreigners but I’m very grateful for their efficiency and determination. I can see how the Postman could become a favourite person in the new country and totally think they should follow the Joburg garbage collectors’ example and start asking for Christmas boxes – they could make a fortune.

They certainly made my week. As precious as regular electronic communication is, there is nothing quite like a box of joy and love sent from far away to make the day, and in this case Christmas, and to help you feel connected to home, no matter how far away you are.

Rivers, bridges and parks

Daegu, , ,

Sometimes the best way to deal with the cold, particularly if it’s still dry and sunshiny, is to get out and spend some time in the sun. Yesterday was a beautifully clear day, so I set off in search of a park.

The only major park I have not yet seen in Daegu is Mangu Park. After yesterday, I still haven’t managed to find it, but I’m not too concerned because I found a lovely river-park instead. And some bridges. Rivers and bridges. That’s how I like to think of Korea, rivers and bridges and mountains. I don’t see it often enough because most of the city is built up, but this area, out towards the airport in the North East, has lovely views of the hills and mountains that surround the city and plenty of river and bridges.

Most of the river-parks, of which I am rather fond, are quite far from where I live and getting there is a case of trial and error because they internet (the source of all knowledge, of course) doesn’t seem to know about them. This one was another accidental discovery. I took bus 814 all the way out past Dongdaegu station before I found it. Actually, I have a feeling the park I was originally looking for (Mangu Park) should be in the same vicinity but this one caught my attention first, so it won.

Just to complete the context, although there was sun yesterday and it was exquisitely clear, it was the kind of clear that only happens because an icy wind is blowing away everything that could possibly make the day hazy. The only thing marring the perfectly icy-blue sky were the icy trails created by some military aircraft that were buzzing around(the airforce base is nearby).

I was dressed warmly – with two long tops, a thick, warm hoodie and a winter jacket, as well as a thick scarf – but that didn’t stop it being cold. Walking along beside the river, my hands actually got numb from the cold and the wind was biting. The needles of ice in the wind actually made my eyes water with cold.

But the sun was shining and sparkling on the dark, chilly water and the wind was fresh, even as it blew my scarf around and half strangled me and ruffled up my hair, and REM was playing on my mp3 player, so I kept on walking. It was invigorating and so lovely to be outside. I think the thing I like least about winters this cold is that they make me want to stay inside. The cold made me think of Saturdays spent at school sports events, particularly when I first started working and we’d end up at random places all over South Africa standing around in the icy, dry winds watching kids play soccer or netball or perform traditional dances.

I’m glad I woke up early and went to the park. So much better to have that in the day than merely a whole 24 hours with nothing but the drudgery of work.

Madama Butterfly

Adventures, Arts, Daegu, , ,

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because Madama Butterfly is now one of the most-performed operas in the US.

I nearly didn’t get to there last night. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks who could be Joburg taxi drivers and normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end. I have also now established that it takes 1 hour to get from myfront door to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t unnecesarily cluttered, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though, was Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid and she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro, the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene: Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot-light on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in everyday life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may mean that I just haven’t noticed it before. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unfinished surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things – an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.

Madama Butterfly

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of Operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because this is now one of the most-performed operas.

I nearly didn’t get to there, actually. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks (who could be Joburg taxi drivers) who normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end, however. I have also now established that it takes approximately 1 hour to get from my flat to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t finicky, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid but she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous, but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience, though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra, conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) are keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene, with Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in every day life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may just mean that I haven’t noticed it. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unpainted surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things, like an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.