Life in Korea changed immensely for the better when we left Wando. In fact, the day we left Wando was one of those wonderful days that starts good (we're leaving Quarantine Island forever!) and ends epically.
Our first stop away from Wando was the Boseong green tea "theme park" that was actually an organic green tea farm. We had a short uphill hike to the top of the hill, where you can see sprawling lines of tea plants. A forest of tall, thin cedar trees enclosed the park.
Afterwards we looked in the gift shop and I had a green tea milkshake made from the farm's green tea. It was a bit strong for a lot of people, but I'm used to bitter, earthy Japanese green tea, so the sweet flavor of the ice cream was almost unexpected.
Next we made a trip to Nagan-eupsong folk village, which was filled with old huts and old, wrinkled Korean women trying to sell you herbs, fruit, nuts, pottery, or trinkets. Most people were bored, but for me, being surrounded by old Asian ladies is like heaven. When old women coarse, rude, and mean, I laugh and admire their spunk. When they're nice to me, a foreigner, for no reason other to show me hospitality, I feel utterly touched.
This next statement might seem like a non-sequitur completely unrelated to what's come before. However, it's upon this next statement that the rest of my wonderful day was born. If I had one lesson to teach you about Korea, it is this: find the most beautiful foreigner you can and attach yourself to him or her like the plague. Mind you, this has to be a person that would be considered beautiful in the country you're staying in.
Coincidentally, the person I have become closest to on this trip is one of those people. Jessie is pale and blonde with an gorgeous complexion and angular features. Personally, I think she's quite pretty, even by American standards. Here, she's a bombshell. We were quite unable to shop anywhere without people remarking on her beauty. I think that sort of thing is contagious. After a while, I, too, was getting comments about being pretty, even though I had never received any attention in Korea up until that point and do not have any of the features Jessie has. I honestly think perhaps I was beautiful by association, which led to conversations with Koreans I wouldn't have had otherwise.
So Jess and I were already having a great time, walking around, shopping, and trying to figure out what people were saying to us. We heard a noise coming from some bushes and decided to pursue it. A family was sitting at a gazebo and we watched them for a minute before an older woman waved us over to sit by them. She was pretty adorable, with 80's clothes and a wide, contagious smile, and she wasn't bothered at all by the fact that we couldn't speak Korean. Instead, she just kept smiling and talking at us, while her son translated for us. "She says you are like a couple of dolls, so pretty," he said. And she rumaged through her bags and pulled out an ear of corn, presenting it to me with a wide, Cheshire cat smile. Stupidly, I took it with one hand, a disrespectful gesture I've been trying to control. I bowed and thanked her profusely in Korean to compensate. Should I eat it now? When would be the proper time to put it away? I thought it over while another, unrelated old man came over, apparently interested in what two young, pretty American girls were doing in Korea. The old woman didn't seem to be listening as her son explained to the man who were were; she just smiled more and pushed over some candy to us.
Skip ahead to the night, of which there are sadly very few pictures. We were in a great mood, and we went out into Suncheon, the third largest city in the province (though probably closer to a suburb in size). Jess and I left our hotel together (the Lexus Motel, using the car manufacturer's logo in what must be an appropriation lawsuit waiting to happen), and we decided to find a shabby bar to hang out in since most shops are closed. Our wish was granted; we found a tiny hof with cheap beer crowded with men. We each drank a bottle of beer (bottles here are quite big, probably more like a wine bottle), and decided to split a bottle of soju (closer in size to an American bottle of beer). We took shots; it's easier to drink than Stoli and gets you drunk even quicker. By the end of the bottle we were ready to stop drinking but having a great conversation, venting about our experience so far and just talking about life in general.
Then a middle aged couple came by and asked in Korean if they could sit by us. The woman seemed to take a liking to Jessie, and would hug her all the time and kiss her on the cheek. She had this nervous habit of moving her fingers and hands around, and she most definitely did not shave her armpits, but the couple was friendly and bought us soju and the hot chicken wings I had been eyeing even thought I was too cheap to buy for myself. We poured alcohol for each other and Jessie and I were literally force-fed (really, they were stuffing food into our mouths). When Jessie left for the bathroom, I knew I had to go too. Was this couple crazy, creepy, or just awesome? How much more soju should we accept? I stood outside the bathroom door, thinking that a small, crappy bar is bound to only have one toilet. At least waiting for my turn would be less awkward than shared silence with strangers.
While I waited, the table to my right, made up of about six drunk, rowdy, twenty-something Korean boys, started up a conversation that went something like this:
Them: You are so beautiful!
Me: Thank you.
Them: How are you?
Me: Fine, thank you. You?
Them: Where are you from?
Me: America.
Them: You're so beautiful!
Me: Um, thanks.
The Drunkest Guy: I LOVE YOU!
Me: Er, right.
Drunkest Guy: Shiiiiiiiit.
Eventually one of the women working at the bar pulled me into the bathroom to show me that yes, there was more than one toilet, which Jessie was still using because it's probably easier to achieve peace in the Middle East than to use an traditional Asian toilet while plastered. If someone has some tips on this (or on how to bring peace to the Middle East, for that matter), please email me. These toilets, which you have to squat to use, are hard enough for me to use sober. But this is a squatter in a bar, which means it's filthy. And it's a squatter in a Korean bar, which means that people don't flush their toilet paper, they throw it out in the trash can next to the toilet. It was foul.
We decided during this ten minute period that we should probably thank the couple and refuse any more alcohol; after all, we had a midnight curfew and the situation was sort of uncomfortable as it was.
Walking back from the toilet, we passed a middle-aged man on his way to the men's room; he bowed hello and I think we responded in kind.
Bad idea.
Five minutes later, he was at our table with two bottles of soju. Thankfully the table to my right seemed to have forgotten about our existence, but the two guys at the table to the left also seemed to have lost their inhibitions. They translated for us that the couple wanted to leave soon, but that they wanted to take us to do karaoke with them. Oh, and they said we were pretty. We tried to explain and mime that we needed to go home and sleep, but the woman didn't get the message until her husband and one of the bartenders escorted her out of the bar.
Jess and I paid our tab, which came to about nine dollars total, and excused ourselves quickly. We spent another thirty minutes walking around in a circle and gushing about how awesome it was that we could get so much by doing so little. I consider it Korean hospitality. We were in a part of Korea that doesn't get a lot of visitors or tourists from Western countries, so we were obvious outsiders. In bigger cities such as Jeju Island and Seoul, we didn't get quite the same level of attention.
The next day was a bit of a blur. Due to a message that never quite got to us, we were late getting on the bus. Jessie and I got a couple dirty looks, but I wasn't bothered. Over the past few weeks in quarantine, I think the two of us had gotten a reputation for being a bit distant and introverted. We weren't spiteful people, but sometimes a little seclusion helped us stay sane. Going out and adventuring felt like a bit of a secret that the Korean people we met would keep for us.
Wando had me worried, but my doubts were dispelled that day. I loved Korea.
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