Koreans are obsessed with age and looking young. Older people get botox injections in their hands so they won't be as wrinkled. So, I decided to search out a gym. Short on cash my first few weeks here, I decided that it is the quality of the excercise that counts, not the facility. Pushups and sit ups are one way to stay fit, but I crave cardio. So I have been jumping rope in my apartment. I feel sorry for the poor sap who lives below me, lol. One of my co-workers, a Scot, told me there is equipment in the mountains, just sitting there for anyone to use--for free. So I decided to go hiking. I love the outdoors, and thought it would be a good way to see more of Busan. Lo and behold, there it was, complete with a few really massive Koreans.
People crowd the streets of Seomyeon, Busan’s business district, every afternoon around four o’clock. As you weave the gantlet, trying to get to work, passersby take no evasive measures whatsoever. They bump into you and each other like birds into a freshly cleaned patio door. As the local’s feet continue treading forward, an agile lateral motion restores the flow for another five steps until the next person walks into you. You don’t have to say sillye hamnida, or anything. Just keep pressing forward.
Last Saturday it rained. It was more of a light drizzle than rain. You could easily make it to where ever you were going on foot without getting completely soaked. I decided to go to the Rob Roy, my local bar (they have Hennessey), for nightcap. As I strolled along the brick side walk enjoying a change from the upper sixties sunny days that we have had since I arrived, and dodged all the designer umbrella wielding pedestrians, everyone Korean gave me a seriously grave concerned grimace. When I got to R.R.’s I asked Shin, the hottie bartender that speaks a little English, what’s the deal. She asked, “You don’t have an umbrella?” No, I replied. “The rain is toxic…unhealthy?” I suddenly realized that rain knocks the pollution out of the air; and believe me, you can taste industry in the air. I was told that every spring, huge sand storms blow in from China and coat everything in thick yellow dust. You have to wear a mask outside. Regardless of being on the coast, Busan has enough traffic to give the city the ‘LA Haze’. Shin went to the back, and after some digging, found a J&B promotional umbrella and gave it to me. She told me it was the owner’s, and laughed.
Last Saturday it rained. It was more of a light drizzle than rain. You could easily make it to where ever you were going on foot without getting completely soaked. I decided to go to the Rob Roy, my local bar (they have Hennessey), for nightcap. As I strolled along the brick side walk enjoying a change from the upper sixties sunny days that we have had since I arrived, and dodged all the designer umbrella wielding pedestrians, everyone Korean gave me a seriously grave concerned grimace. When I got to R.R.’s I asked Shin, the hottie bartender that speaks a little English, what’s the deal. She asked, “You don’t have an umbrella?” No, I replied. “The rain is toxic…unhealthy?” I suddenly realized that rain knocks the pollution out of the air; and believe me, you can taste industry in the air. I was told that every spring, huge sand storms blow in from China and coat everything in thick yellow dust. You have to wear a mask outside. Regardless of being on the coast, Busan has enough traffic to give the city the ‘LA Haze’. Shin went to the back, and after some digging, found a J&B promotional umbrella and gave it to me. She told me it was the owner’s, and laughed.
