the joys of travelling - sequel

Part of the joys of discovering countries is sampling their food.  This is definitely true for Korea.

Around universities in Seoul, small, dodgy-looking restaurants and classy ones compete for the remaining commercial space left by 3G/4G cell phone stores, real estate agencies and convenience stores.  You don’t need to look hard to find a copious and yummy meal in my neighbourhood.  The above snack cost me just over $6.00 all incl.  I plan to go back for seconds.

How can one eat out so well for such a reasonable price here?  Twenty years ago, when the same meal would have cost you half of that, I was told that it was cheap because Korea was arguably still a developing country, and that incomes were low.  But if one takes inflation into consideration, haemul sundubu hasn’t really become more expensive today while salaries have gone up.

(Delicious) food for thought...

the joys of travelling

The experience of air travel has changed little compared to twenty years ago. If you own a private jet.

For those lucky ones still using commercial airliners, flying has become an activity designed to test the patience, endurance, and wallets of travellers. It starts well before you board the plane: you go online, spend hours finding the best deals for your ticket, and feel reasonably proud of yourself for having nailed the hot bargain. The price makes you forgive the three stopovers to your destination. Until the website adds the airport fee, the fuel surcharge and the GST. Ouch.

You bite the bullet, print out the seven sheets of your e-ticket, and start packing your suitcases. A few days before the departure, you receive an email urging you to confirm that you accept the changes in your flight schedule. You click okay, and print seven new pages. It feels good to save trees thanks to your e-ticket. Once at the airport, you go to the check-in area, and stand in line. You whistle joyfully, you’re going abroad. It’s your turn: you are finally greeted by a computer screen. The screen tells you to scan your passport, but for some reason, it can’t read your passport, and tells you to seek human help. That’s okay, you only wasted 35 minutes. Good thing you arrived at the airport three hours before your flight, as required by the airline. The single and unhappy clerk running back and forth behind the nine counters sorts out your passport issue with a grunt, and informs you that as of two months ago, one must pay a fee for one’s checked-in luggage. Since you have two pieces, it’ll cost you $50, but they go well over the 50 pound limit, so that’ll be another $50.

Grr. You need a drink. You get a lemonade, and head to the security check-point. There, they tell you to take off your shoes, your coat, your sweater, your hat, and your belt – thanks heaven you put a fresh set of underwear this morning. But you’re a good sport and a real patriot. You’re doing your part in keeping the country safe.

Sorry, you can’t keep the lemonade. You’re thirsty and you’re cold now. Better put your clothes back on quickly if you don’t want to catch a cold, and be denied boarding because you have a cough. H1N1 is no joke apparently.

The seats on the plane are just as narrow as twenty years ago, but now, each passenger has their personal video terminal. The flight attendants really have a lot less attendance to do. Eighteen hours later, you arrive at your destination. You are grateful that all three legs of your trip arrived on time, but you can start praying that the airline will not go bankrupt before your return.