Tao for Travelers: My weekend in Hong Kong

I have an old friend, Rosann Santoro, who has lived in Hong Kong for decades and it's been that long since I've seen her. As Korea is so close, I decided to visit for the weekend -- how cool is that? Looking at what's going on in my hotel, I was reminded that one thing people come to Hong Kong for is shopping. They come back from their forays with shopping bags from all sorts of luxury stores. And I'm told that there are underground stores that sell the fake versions of everything and even the fakes of the fakes. Mind-boggling. 

As I don't shop enough to know what's what, I have stayed strictly on the sidelines: looking for small presents, a camera case and a fountain pen. Now, I don't need a fountain pen -- it's just that a stationery store had a great display of pens and the announcement that it was their annual sale -- and this was interesting because a fountain pen represents a lifestyle of ease and pleasure, which dances in my head when I see one. I do have a very pleasurable lifestyle, but not so much ease, and rarely use the fountain pens I have -- you see my problem. 

Hong Kong is a "love at first sight" kind of place if you like crowded cities, which I do. It throngs with people, the buildings are jammed together, the majestic, historic banyan trees shelter the nearby avenue -- it's quite spectacular. And I haven't even really seen the harbor yet, except from the air. 

In the meantime, Rosann has been taking me to dinner at the Kowloon Cricket Club, a sea of green fields that completes the urbanity. The club is and has always been multi-ethnic and multi-cultural, so you can get food from around the world. I've been focused on the Cantonese dishes, the like of which I've never tasted before. I say to myself, "Oh this is what they mean by the difference between Chinese fast food in my neighborhood and the real thing!" 

Today it is raining, so we may go to the nearby museum of the history of the city -- always a top choice for me! And then we'll chat about our families, our lives since we last met, and the curious state of the world and how we might help.

Tao for Travelers: Touring

I am visiting South Korea for three months so I haven't felt any pressure to see the sights or even to leave Itaewon. But my visitors are here for shorter periods of time and getting out and about is, I've learned, more a part of short visits than long ones. Because of my guests, I've been to museums, lovely restaurants, parks, markets and a long list of coffee shops. 

Marisela wanted to learn about Korean Buddhism, so we did a templestay at Tongdosa, the oldest and largest temple here. We spent four days and three nights there, immersed in the culture of the temple, meaning the structure and practice of the religion. We watched the ringing of the four instruments of Buddhism, went to a variety of services, and had tea with three monks who kindly answered my questions. Because Tongdosa is south of Seoul, spring was already arriving there and the plum trees were coming into bloom. The experience of sitting with a monk and having tea is one that I will cherish -- so different from rushing to a coffee shop or even grabbing a cup of tea as I head into a Zoom meeting.

Lily wanted to go to Namsan Tower for a second time. Lee Bora, a physician we were introduced to, took us there but it was a foggy day and we could see only the fog. We got a ticket to go back for free and Lily thought that would be great. We wanted to take a cab there, but the cab driver explained that they're not allowed on the mountain and could only take us to the cable car. Lily, being braver than I am, took lots of pictures on the way up, while I stared straight ahead. When we got to the top of the tower, it was so amazing to see the difference between complete whiteout and sparkling sun!  

Molly wanted to go for a Korean facial. She researched online for one that was highly recommended. She decided on Spa 1899, because it was both great and friendly to people speaking English. It was really an amazing experience. NO extractions -- just massage and masks and lovely ginseng oil. It actually started with a cup of ginseng tea and five minutes of foot bath with the ginseng added to the water. What an experience! We came out glowing! 

Doug was deeply committed to food adventures. We went to a variety of restaurants and to several markets, including a night market tour. I liked the Mangwon Market best. Dr. Lee took us there. Her husband is a social activist who helped to organize the market and manages its coffee shop. Her daughter likes to get a special ice cream treat which is like an ice cream S'more, with the toasting of the marshmallow provided by an alligator blow torch. Dr. Lee even sent us home with a Korean version of chicken nuggets in three fabulous flavors, which we savored at dinner. Both of Dr. Lee's tours included fabulous food, which I could never have experienced on my own. 

And hosts also have ideas what one should see. Lee Bora has been so generous with us, taking us first on a City Bus tour, which included our first visit to Namsan Tower, and then second on a "miserable history" tour, which took us to Seodaemun Prison History Hall and the War and Women's Human Rights Museum. The latter is dedicated to telling the story of women who forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese Army duing the colonial period and World War II. There is an ongoing protest of the Japanese refusal to acknowledge the government's role in this violation of human rights. For the 1000th protest, the protesters made a statue of a young girl staring at the Japanese Embassy and an empty chair beside her, inviting us to join in solidarity. We took turns sitting with her.  

I'm on a short pause with no visitors at the moment, so I've settled into my own wu wei idea of getting to know the country. I had a great conversation with Professor Eunju Hwang of Sogang University. She agreed with me that no woman would have ever expressed whatever the sentiment of wu wei is as "do nothing." That formulation had to come from a wealthy man. But what is the intent? We agreed that "do one thing at a time" was a definite possibility and it was certainly something my mother said to me, usually combined with "don't get ahead of yourself," similar to the more current saying of, "keep your head over your feet." 

There are lots of things to do today, so I'm taking them one at time, while appreciating the sunlight pouring in the windows of my apartment in Itaewon. I have time to listen to Han Kang's Human Acts, and ponder the many ways in which deep suffering colors this splendid place. I might otherwise be lulled by the wonderful bus system and the gorgeous movie stars into thinking they have it all. 

Tao for Travelers: All the Food

When I told people I was going to Korea, they'd invariably say, "You're going to eat such great food!" It didn't matter if they'd been to Korea or not. Some stereotypes are true and some are not, but this one, so far, is true, true, true. And it's not simply that high-end places have exquisite fusion cuisine. The street stands, the hole-in-the-wall joints, the restaurants from back-in-the-day are offering such delightful meals it makes every day a holiday. Of course, in a way for me, every day is a holiday, as my work is to wander around and take in the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and feels of the place. 

Seoul is all about style -- places like Starbucks or McDonald's are the same here as anywhere and you can't say they're stylish or not because they're frozen. Cool is what is being invented. Two of my favorites -- a coffee shop and a small restaurant -- have these signs: 

In a space of amazing food, bread not so much. And I'm just a person who likes toast for breakfast. Being a stranger defamiliarizes habits and I find myself asking why. I suddenly remembered dinner at my house growing up. My dad liked bread with dinner. If we didn't have bread, we'd make biscuits -- that was always great by me. The bread in the supermarket or even Paris Baguette is in the spirit of Wonder Bread, not Liv Bakery, the fabulous bakery near me. Happily, tucked in among the neighborhood clothes stores were three marvelous exceptions -- a Turkish bakery, a bagel shop and an Italian coffee place that has fresh bread. Ahhh! Simit and coffee get the day off to a very good start -- and then food exploration is right outside the door. 

Tao for Travelers: Clambering on a Tank

I am slowly venturing here and there from my little home base in Itaewon. Yesterday I got a T-money card, which is good for getting on the subway and buses. Then I took a walk toward an area that is large and green on the map. I thought it might be a park, but it is not. It seems to be a remnant of the US army base that used to be here, now with some museums at the edges. My path took me to the Korean War Memorial. There was a demonstration going on. About thirty people in matching red vests were sitting on mats in orderly rows listening to inspiring songs and speeches. I have no idea what this was about. There were more police than protesters, so I thought of joining just to boost the numbers.  Instead, I walked into the vast area of the War Memorial. It was quite a jumble -- an array of divergent symbols jostled together without creating either grief for those we've lost or the thrill of military might. The giant missile that stood at the opening to the plaza of the Korean War Memorial struck one note. The children clambering around the tanks and planes were an entirely different power move. Several statues of fighting confirmed for me a thought I've had for a long time, which is "don't mess with Koreans." This boy's face, in particular, captured that sense for me.  

And if you shouldn't mess with Koreans, Koreans fighting Koreans is a particularly desperate moment. I am not sure how the two sides will emerge from the impasse of the moment. I did leave the War Memorial even more convinced that they will find a way forward that we cannot imagine from this vantage point. It is the corollary of "don't mess" -- "don't underestimate." 

Tao for Travelers: Reading the Signs

In Korean, there are two forms of the future (that I've learned so far...). One is the definite future -- it will be a holiday tomorrow. The second is the "probable future," that is, all the things that probably will happen, like "I will go to Korea." In Korean this is said, "한극에 간 거예요," meaning it's probable I will go. I personally live in a probable future mentality and this was true long before I got to the probable future in my Korean textbook. With things that will happen in time, I often experience it like the area under the curve which comes up in calculus as an infinite series of steps. We arrive at the answer by integration of the small steps into a single number. In the real world this was most vividly illustrated for me by waiting for 12am, January 1, 2000, and the start of the new millennium. Or would we get stuck in the infinite divisions of time?  I felt like the countdown to my trip was in that space/time trap. Probably I would go, but maybe not.  But then, as Dr. Seuss put it so brilliantly in Marvin K. Mooney, Will You Please Go Now?, "The time had come, so Marvin went." The time had come and so I went, or came, depending on how you look at it. I got to Korea.  

One description of beginning language learners is that they will have trouble understanding and will make mistakes in speaking. This is certainly what is happening to me as I walk around Itaewon, the Seoul neighborhood where I am staying. People are on the kind side -- put it this way, it's not like trying to speak badly accented French in Paris. One thing about my beginner level of proficiency is that I can tackle signs, and there are lots of them. Hangul, the Korean alphabet, is, by now, nearly as invisible to me as the Latin alphabet. I rarely know what the words mean, but I can say them, at least quietly to myself. And I love the way the signs are written. Korean is composed in syllables, and signs play with syllables in an infinite variety of ways. Having only recently come to appreciate the syllable, I am delighted by this, like a baby with a mobile. 

Which brings me to this encouraging sign I saw on a walk around the neighborhood, happily in English -- "No worries, Br*. It will be fine. D*. Wait. Trust."  

K-drama: From the Hermitage to the Hermit Country

Well, while I have not been in a hermitage for the past 3 years, I have not been jetting around the way I used to. And Korea is not the "Hermit Country" anymore, by any means. In fact, on the street where I'll be staying are all kinds of businesses representing the whole world, including a Converse store, Italian Optical, and Global Dentist. But in leaving one place and going to another, I do have a bit of uprooting and reconnecting to do. My spiritual director said that monks who move from one monastery to another have a "transfer of vows." One of the reasons travel is so important is that visiting another place creates connection -- new vows of concern -- with that place. We can read this in Michael Kimmelman's beautiful piece on the earthquake in Turkey, which has killed more than 40,000 at this point. He noted, 

You may rightly ask about the logic of rebuilding time and again in these risky places. The notion comes up around a different threat: climate change. Scientists predict large-scale migrations in the coming years from zones where rising seas, floods, droughts and extreme weather will make life increasingly difficult or impossible. Already, climate change has displaced millions of people around the world.

But logic is not the point.

Cities are only nominally bricks and mortar, after all. To residents they are repositories of a hairbrush and a photograph — collective threads of a social fabric that, over time, weave together a life, a family, a history, a neighborhood, a community. 

Which is to say that I am loosening my connection to my daily life here in New Jersey and settling in Seoul for three months, God willing and the creek don't rise. It will be a lot the same -- morning coffee and reading the Times. But it will also be different in ways that I don't even know yet but am curious to learn. In the heart of catastrophe, we learn how much place means to us, and teaches us both how precious home is and how deeply meaningful it is go to another place and get to meet it as well. At Girl Scout camp, we sang the song, "Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other's gold."

Sorrow in Seoul

This evening I took my "constitutional" -- my 30 minute walk around the neighborhood -- at around 5 pm, when hordes of kids were out, going from house to house in the rituals of Halloween. I was reminded of my love for a neighbor who gave us little bags of candy. The serenity of a New Jersey early evening, dressed as in your Hogwart's uniform, with a wand in your hand, or strange skeleton features drawn on your face, the leaves crunching, the piles of candy, the neighbors recreating this event from the memories of our own joy at so much sugar! A friend in France, incensed that Halloween was infiltrating their country, berated the commercialism of the holiday. I tried to explain, but she just got madder and madder. "What is good about a holiday on which children are given too much candy?" 

I tried to explain about the satisfaction to the human spirit of this strange festival -- deciding what to be, where to go, how to say "Trick or treat." Halloween is the ultimate city festival, a triumph of the collective imagination and an expression -- as all events are -- of the fears and joys that are on our minds, like the explosion of fake tombstones this year, which must be because we are in collective mourning for more than a million Americans lost to Covid. 

It is against this backdrop of our custom, which has been embraced by Seoulites, and especially this year, after two years without this moment of the human spirit, that the profound tragedy hit: More than 150 dead, and an equal number injured. And thousands more who were there, some of whom will be haunted by their own role in the tragedy: the ones who yelled "Push" and the ones who stepped on others. Like Lady MacBeth, they will be wiping the death off to no avail.  

Korea is a country is with suspicions of mental health treatments -- they are only coming to have and use them. Yet they have other resources. The national government immediately declared a week of mourning and lowered all the flags to half mast, erected public mourning sites, with the traditional white carnations, opened a vast investigation into what happened so that they might prevent it. 

While people might not think of it as a resource, K-drama is surely playing a part in this moment. The show, Just between Lovers/Rain or Shine, is concerned with the torment experienced by people in the aftermath of a building collapse -- not the same dynamics as the crush of a crowd, but nonetheless carefully showing the suffering. To be trauma-informed as a society is not a small matter at a time like this. The tormented souls who scream in their sleep or can't concentrate at work will be understood by their family, co-workers and society. People may not know the way out of pain, but they will know that there is pain. 

This is fundamental because it prevents all the harms of secondary traumatization when people are told that their pain is not real or not important. I don't think that Korean society will fall into that trap, because they have been so clearly and consistently shown the harms of trauma through their nightly television programs. 

But in walking my neighborhood -- which is not a mile from where I grew up -- what was on my mind tonight were all the Halloweens of my childhood when I roamed for candy, crunching Snickers bars and fall leaves. These events that happen year after year all live in our bodies. A few weeks ago, seemingly out of the blue, I started to remember how the shaking of the building I was in during the 1989 World Series Earthquake felt. A few days later, Bob Fullilove, who was also there, reminded me that it was the anniversary of that event. And so next year, when Halloween comes, this will be on the minds and in the bodies of Koreans, not with the joy that I have, but with horror and grief. 

For the first anniversary after 9/11, our NYC RECOVERS project created a month of observances -- mainly to keep us from freaking out about the single horrible day. We called it "September Wellness" and people created all kinds of events that felt right, from walking labyrinths to free yoga lessons. From that experience we were all convinced that collective recovery held promise for keeping the population well through very difficult times. It is why we proposed it to so many colleagues as we went through the fear and loneliness of Covid.  

Sending love to Korea, that they be healed and that Halloween be healed for them, and that it grow into the kind of day of the human spirit that we have enjoyed for so many decades.