Monthly Archives: December 2009

Of Mirth and Merriment

Daegu, Food, Friends,

I remember once having a conversation with a tourism expert from New Zealand or Aus who said that South African tourism differs from tourism in many places because South Africans still tend to go away on family holidays. It was the first time it had occurred to me that the South African traditional holiday-time rituals of spending lots of time with the family, at the beach or a resort or around the braai, might be unusual. I still can’t really imagine a world in which people don’t do family holidays. And family Christmases are probably the best example. Which, of course, makes a Christmas 10 000 km from home, half-a-world-distant and in the wrong hemisphere, a strange and chilly experience. I am lucky to be in a country that does do Christmas, at least to some extent, so I haven’t felt it as much as, say, Richard who spent Christmas in Sudan, but I have still been very aware of the differences and the things – most prominent being sunshine and family – that I’m missing.

Luckily, I had some lovely friends, along with plenty of tinsel and presents, to make more bearable. I spent Christmas Eve alone, partly because I was working until nearly 11pm – a completely foreign and rather objectionable experience for me! – and partly because it was the best way to align the timezones so that I could talk to my family back home. Of all the merriment and gifts of Christmas, I think the opportunity to talk to my parents and siblings in Stutt, just before they sat down to dinner on Christmas Eve, was probably the best present of all. It was accompanied by the gifts from them that arrived in the post a week or so before – all of which were lovely and South African and made me very happy.

Christmas day was spent quietly pottering around the house, opening the last couple of presents and watching Christmas episodes of QI (who wouldn’t?), at least until the early evening, when I set off for Christmas dinner. Maeve Binchy talks in one of her books about the idea of a group of ‘chick-less hens’ celebrating Mother’s Day together because they don’t have families with whom to celebrate. This was a little like that – a group of foreigners, orphaned by distance this Christmas time, gathering to share an evening of determined delightfulness and merriment. Our excellent culinary champion tried hard to ensure that there was something familiar for each of us, which resulted in a slightly unorthodox mixture of foods but made for a great dinner, nonetheless. Of course there was no roast – as there would have been at home (and was this year without me) – because the facilities required to roast things (i.e. proper ovens) don’t exist in most of our flats  We did however have (a lot of) pasta salad, green salad, beef-a-roni, rice-and-beans, chicken, beef strips, biscuits (of the American type – thanks to KFC), humus, salami, a variety of cheeses (yay!) and several other bits and pieces. I added some biltong to the selection because I felt there needed to be something from South African. To drink, there was, along with soju, makju and ridiculously expensive spirits, mulled wine, which was lovely and hot and familiar. The pièce de résistance was the Yorkshire pudding which our excellent culinary champion managed in a toaster oven and which cooked pretty much perfectly, once the oven was plugged in – although those of us closest to British heritage were made a little uneasy about the suggestion that it should be eaten with syrup and sugar. There was also a beautiful Christmas cake, complete with Christmas penguins.

Along with the delightful meal, there were Christmas decorations, Christmas attire, an actual tree and – because, as I said, I have lovely friends – stockings for everyone. When we arrived the stockings were beautifully hung along a gas pipe near the ceiling, adding even more Christmas-ness to an already festive apartment. The evening involved much merriment and friendship and an hilarious game of Charades.

Eventually we said our goodbyes and ventured out into the freezing cold of a Northern Hemisphere Christmas night and home to bed, another Christmas celebration come and gone. I have missed home and sunshine and a thousand little traditions, like decorating the tree with my siblings and singing carols, my Mom’s amazing Christmas dinner and sharing good wine with my Dad, but I’m glad I wasn’t all alone in a foreign country, and I’m particularly thankful for the ability to talk to loved ones far away and for friends with whom to create together our own little Christmas in a far-off Asian land.

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.