Cheonggye Stream downtown Seoul one cold December morning 2007.
Pictures probably make the difference between a rotten blog and a mediocre one.
In an attempt to make the most of my remaining time in Korea, I visited Mt. Bukhansan yesterday. I took a few pictures too but no one will be seeing them, not even me. I dropped the camera that has served me so well since April, 2006 in a stream.
I still have high hopes but low expectations that it will resurrect after a few days of drying. I read on the web that that sometimes happens. We’ll see. I have it in a container with some silicone gel bags to reduce mold. I may even take it apart today if I can find the right mini-screwdriver.
Summer in Korea is a very sweaty time and I found a nice alternative to hiking up the mountain right at the base where a cool stream rolled through big rocks. I found my spot by a small swimming hole worth about one good stroke in either direction. Daredevils slid down a steep smooth slope into the water. It looked a bit chancy to me. A bad landing could end in a serious head injury. I’ve been trying to cut down on that kind of excitement.
I had a giant high rock in the middle of the stream with a smooth depression in the center of the top the length of my body. Laying there, catching a sweet breeze after a nice dip in the cool water, I wasn’t surprised to find my book slipping out of my hands and I didn’t wake up until a park official peeked his head over the top to tell me I had to button my shirt. I had noticed that everyone else was splashing with their shirts on. They did that at Seonjong Beach in Busan too. I thought it was strange; never dreamed it was a rule. Well, rules are rules but Iwanted toknow why. He tried to explain but lacked the English words so as far as I can tell, it’s considered indecent for men to take their shirts off when swimming in streams in national parks. Maybe the same applies to public beaches.
This is not where I dropped the camera. A big storm seemed to be on the way so I drifted along back downtown to walk around in no particular direction and see things I’d missed before. When I stumbled across the Cheonggye Stream, I knew it was way past time to descend from the street and take a stroll along the banks.
Under a bridge, people sat on the bank to dangle their feet in the water and some waded out to the center. That gave me the brilliant idea to wade out to the center and walk the length in the water, snapping pictures from a different perspective. It looked easy. It’s an artificial stream, not too deep, and the bottom is made of flattish rocks. I didn’t get far, probably four stubborn steps at the most. The current was surprisingly strong and a bit of moss made those rocks nice and slippery. I was ready to give up but getting back wasn’t so easy. Realizing there was a solid chance I was going to fall and find my way back on hands and knees, I got ready to minimize the damage and toss the backpack onto the bank first. A friendly stranger gave a hand. I was ready. I lunged for a rock and my camera flew out of my shirt pocket. Dang. Lights out for the little Canon Powershot.
Some guy in a uniform came down to chase the waders back to the bank. Wading isn’t allowed there and it shouldn’t be. I think that’s the main job for this man and a few others I saw. Sitting on the bank with feet in the water is cool but the minute someone stands up in the water, these guys are there to tell them to sit back down again. Tempting as it is, that stream is rather hazardous. Lots of potential for head and spinal injuries. I was already on the bank by the time he arrived to chase the others but I suspect he made a special trip for me when someone reported on a walkie talkie that a stupid tourist thought he could wade the whole stream. I don’t know that for sure but he openly glared at me until I left the scene of the crime and his fixed hostile stare.
Sniff. Maybe the Canon is only in a coma. For now, it’s in intensive care, waiting for a sign of life before pulling the final plug. If the rain stops today, I’ll try drying it with that foot cleaner/ air compressor at Seolbong Park I use to blow the dust out of the laptop once a month.
Life is rather sweet on the south Pacific coast of Mexico but little inconveniences will come up.
My old Toshiba is almost dead. It's on life support for now. I can take it to the beach and run it on battery power and not worry too much about little sand storms or opportunistic thieves for that matter. No more real harm can be done.
That poor little dinosaur served me well for three years of hard use in five different countries from Canada to Mexico, to Korea, to Thailand, back to Korea, back to Mexico, on to Guatemala and back again to its final resting place in Huatulco. If it could be fixed, I'd take care of it out of sentimentality but it can't be and it's an impractical idea.
I now have a shiny new Hewlett Packard with 320 GB and more gadgets than I'll ever find time to master. There's a webcam so I could potentially talk to someone on the screen like the Jetsons. Jet packs must be just around the corner.
I spotted this model at Telmex here in Huatulco for 14,399 pesos, one and a half month's pay. I can only withdraw so much in a day here so I waited almost two weeks to buy it. When I got back to the store, the price had mysteriously risen to 17,899. All prices and specs were still posted on the screens just like the first time except for the one I showed interest in. The saleswoman did s lot of typing on the computer and gave me a sheet with the new price. The smell of rat was strong and I walked away.
The only thing left to do was to take a trip to Oaxaca City where I found the same model at the price I remembered. It's a 12 hour trip so there went my weekend. I got into town just nicely after dawn. With about 18,000 pesos in my wallet, I considered taking a cab for the short walk to the zocalo but the first cab driver demanded 100 pesos (it should be 20) and I thought getting into a car with anyone that larcenous would defeat the purpose of playing safe so I ended up walking.
Mission accomplished, I had a lot of time to kill before the next bus back. There weren't any day buses for some reason. Oaxaca was beautiful as always.
I spotted this intriguing building with my university logo on a plaque. It was locked up pretty tight. I wonder what the connection is. Been meaning to ask someone.
I read a book in the park until the sun went down and camped out at the bus station. Strange places, bus stations. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Some drunk guy sitting across me walked over and sat right beside me. I'll never know what he was on about. Played with his cellphone a bit, apparently having problems and then muttered at me in Spanish and showed me a list of women's names. I shrugged. "no habla..." That usually gets me off the hook with dubious pesky strangers but not always. He kept pesking and I kept shrugging. Eventually he left.
Another sketchy guy outside stuck his hand out for a handshake he didn't get and tried to convince me we'd met in some place I'd never heard of. I gave him no encouragement.
I think I've filled my quota for scammy strangers for a while.
So now, I have this great new toy with a gimmicky fingerprint scan, saving me an entire two seconds of typing in a code.
