Hungry. Hungry!

Ah, Thanksgiving. The word brings me feelings of contentment, mild gastronomic discomfort, and deliciocity. Until now, I did not associate it with Kimchi, Norah Jones, or secondhand smoke.

8:45 We went to Mad’s (the Irish pub near work) for Thanksgiving. They boasted a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner, complete with ambiance, free alcohol, and all the trimmings (which makes the alcohol part a redundancy). All we needed was 31,000 won ($26). Everyone was hungry when we got to the pub. This may have been because we saved room for a feast. However, I suspect it had more to do with the fact that it was EIGHT FORTY-FIVE AT NIGHT. Chris, the owner of Mad’s, had told us dinner began at nine. If that seems ridiculously late to you, this is because you are sane. Needless to say, we were famished because we’d not eaten since lunch. We played darts to stave off the hunger.
8:55 Anticipation is high. The crowd is milling about awaiting the sight of the bird. People stand in little groups as everyone discusses the arrival of food. We're not the only hungry people in the bar. They start playing a Norah Jones Christmas CD.
9:00 It's time! We're going to eat! Yea!
9:05 Where is it?
9:10 This isn't funny anymore. Where's the freaking dinner? I paid my ridiculously high bill and I drank my cheap wine. Where's the food?
9:15 We inquire as to the whereabouts of dinner. The staff pretends not to understand the question. We know this ignorance is feigned because we talk to them all the time.
9:20 The staff disappears in the kitchen. We must be close.
9:30 Yea! They’re bringing it out! It was worth the wait because they’ve got a turkey and lots of different side dishes—wait, no. They’re appetizers. It’s time for our authentic Thanksgiving appetizers: Kimchi pancakes and lentil soup.
9:31 The food is gone. It was sacrificed to the twenty-five famished patrons who don’t care about authenticity at this point.
9:40 We’re so hungry that even throwing darts seems insurmountable. If this were Victorian England, I would swoon. Of course, if this were Victorian England, the women wouldn’t be allowed in a pub, and we wouldn’t be celebrating Thanksgiving.
9:45 Just when we’ve given up hope and are considering defecting to the McDonalds across the street, Chris comes out with a plate in either hand. Huzzah! We’re saved! We’d dance if we had the energy. We can finally eat!
9:46 Nope.
9:47 We figure out that our table will be the last served. So we wait.
9:55 And wait.
10:00 If I had the energy, I’d steal a stranger’s plate.
10:05 The word “mutiny” is thrown around.
10:10 I am starting to gain sympathy for the Donner party.
10:15 Some of my coworkers appear to have been replaced by visions of talking turkey legs and hamhocks.
10:20 OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!!! It’s here! There’s turkey, real actual turkey, and potatoes! I see cranberry sauce and stuffing, a Pillsbury crescent roll, some vegetables. It’s beautiful! It’s delicious! It’s … cold.

I paid $26 for a cold turkey dinner served after ten at night.

Okay, I don’t care if it’s a little cold. I finally got my meal. All I need is a little bit of my favorite Thanksgiving staple.

Where did he put the freaking gravy? Don’t tell me.

No.

For the love of God, I’ve been here before. A Thanksgiving without gravy is worse than a Christmas without snow. It just isn’t done. Only a fool would have Thanksgiving without gravy. I’ll go in there and make the freaking gravy myself…

There’s no gravy.

Okay, let’s have a reality check. It is difficult, nigh impossible, to find a whole turkey in Korea. I’m sure it was prohibitedly expensive. Then there’s the fact that he gave us appetizers, one free drink, and a full Thanksgiving dinner (including pumpkin pie at around 11:30 pm). I’m sure it was expensive to make, and there was a bit of effort. Overall, the people I came with were pretty happy with everything.
But I need to point something out. I was under similar circumstances in Italy. I made a Thanksgiving dinner for about half the number of people (15 when I did it). The turkey was wildly expensive, and we had one oven and one stove. We fed everybody on time, and the meal cost us about $7 apiece. Plus we had multiple desserts and drinks.
As a member of a family with lots of experience cooking for crowds, I was pretty disappointed. We would never serve a meal so late, but we would especially never let a cold plate of food leave the kitchen. All of us (even the brat) take too much pride in food to let that happen). And it's not like there were a hundred people at the meal. I'll bet some of you served the same amount of people for Thanksgiving, and you didn't charge everyone.

But still, it was better than I’d expected in Korea (I didn't end up with octopus stuffing or surprise corn kernals in anything, so that's a plus). At least I got turkey on Thanksgiving, even if it was cold, a little dry, and utterly lacking in gravy.

*Sob* Gravy...

An Irish Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

I didn't realize it was Thanksgiving until I was reminded by my Canadian coworkers (I'll let the irony of that set in). Anyway, just thought I'd let you all know I was thinking of everyone. Also I was thinking of gravy.

I love gravy.

A group of us are going to this Irish pub near work for a "Thanksgiving Dinner." It's rather expensive, but if I get turkey and gravy on this most hallowed of days, I'll be happy. So I guess I'll be celebrating Thanksgiving with a bunch of Canadians at an Irish pub in Korea.

Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

I hope everyone has a great holiday!

Poor Planning

On Saturday, we had to come in to work. This isn't a normal thing for us (though some hagwons are open on Saturday. Aish). The reason we came in is because we had a sort of open house. Basically the school and the teachers were on display for prospective students' parents.

It was, as these sorts of things always are, awkward. The foreign teachers had to line up at the door and greet incoming parents. Did I mention that Koreans are kind of afraid of foreigners? Now imagine someone with a slight fear of foreigners who is walking into a school on a Saturday, a little uncertain, a little fearful, and once she opens the door, she's inundated with twelve foreigners speaking in another language.

Awesome.

Anyway, the main reason for this open house is that in February most of our morning classes are done. All but two of our classes are graduating, and that leaves a pretty big hole in the school. A hole that might cause trouble for the teachers, being that we all still want to have jobs (for the most part, anyway). It doesn't take a genius (or administrator, which is NOT the same thing) to figure out that if we don't get enough replacement students, some of the teachers will go in February. Toward the top of that list would be yours truly, being that I'm one of the newest.

So that's interesting news for everyone back home. There's a small chance I might end up home sooner than I'd thought. But then again, English teaching jobs are pretty common out here, so I might just get another. If that's the case, I'd be staying at least six months extra.

So that's where we stand right now. Between the economy and swine flu, there's a chance some of the teachers will be out of work. It's not the end of the world, but it's something to consider.

Fan Death

This probably comes as no surprise to anyone, but sometimes this country makes no freaking sense.

This is a country that believes in "fan death." I'm not sure if I mentioned fan death in the past, but let me break it down for you. Believers say that an electric fan running directly on your body can kill you while you sleep.

I don't think we need to go into the whys or anything (suffocation, hypothermia, hyperthermia...) but this is a very well accepted belief in Korea. Every summer, the media reports cases of "fan death." And for those of you thinking that just a minor section of the population believes in this, I'd like to point out that even doctors and the Korea Consumer Protection Board (KCPB) warn against fans.

Actually, fans in Korea come equipped with timers to protect the public. So I'm guessing the Korean government supports this? If you're curious about it, the Wikipedia page on fan death is kind of interesting.

This danger extends beyond just fans. I've been warned against running my air conditioner at night as well. In fact, I had a little cough in the summer and everyone told me I shouldn't run my AC at night. Some of the mothers at our school complained because we ran the AC too much, and they thought we'd make their children sick.

I just found out about one of the girls in our school who is "allergic to cold water."


Okay, so apparently Koreans aren't wild about the cold. Americans can be the same way ("Don't go outside with your head wet or you'll catch cold!"), so I guess we can't judge too much.

But if they're so afraid of letting anyone get chilled, I just have one freaking question:

Why won't they stop opening the freaking windows at my school?!

I'M FREEZING!!

*ahem

I apologize for the long build up before finally getting to my pointless reason for writing, but it's driving me crazy*. Oops, I mean nuts.


*(Crazy is a very bad word in Korea.)

TV

A long while ago, I wanted to discuss Korean television. I decided there’s no time like the present.

While my experience of Korean TV is somewhat limited, I’ve talked to others about it and found out some interesting things. For instance, the success of a TV show is not demonstrated by the length that it runs. Apparently, young Koreans (thirties and younger) don’t watch a single show for more than a season. As a result, every new season brings with it brand new shows. I mentioned a TV show called “Boys Over Flowers” a few times in the past. This show was wildly popular when it was aired last spring (so much so that Korea’s replete with BOF merchandise).

But despite its raging success, there will never be a second season. I can’t help comparing this to America’s tendency to grind a popular show into the ground. How many shows were fantastic the first season, only to gradually sink? (Heroes, I'm talking to you!) On the other hand, it doesn’t seem to make commercial sense that they would kill a show when it has developed a strong viewership. But the woman I was discussing this with said that Koreans just don’t watch second seasons of shows. So I guess it’s a cultural thing; however I can’t help but find it puzzling. Plus, it has to be hard on the actors to have to get a new job every year. Yeesh.

One exception to this tendency is apparently the older generation. According to my sources, they tend to stick to one series for years. There are a few historical genre TV shows that fit in this category, but I haven’t really watched them.

Another aspect of Korean drama that I find puzzling is the female lead. I’ve only watched about three or four shows, but the female leads tend to be Cinderella-like. They’re always poor, often working several jobs to keep afloat. All of the women I’ve seen have been clumsy and awkward, outspoken, and always manage to win the male lead over with the fact that they’re “different” from the other girls. I know American film tends to do this too, but I still found it somewhat curious. (Not to mention the fact that the female leads always seem to have atrocious table manners.)

Outside of dramas, there are plenty of Korean TV shows that exemplify the stereotypical Asian game show. They also have a tendency to take large numbers of TV stars and make them do embarrassing things. There was one show I watched where they had K-pop stars and actors going through an obstacle course, which usually took about thirty seconds apiece. The rest of the show consisted of forcing the participants to individually dance for the audience. Watching a guy half covered in mud, trying to shimmy for a crowd transcends language barrier.

After spending time in Italy watching similar programs, I can’t help but wonder if America is missing out on something. Why don’t we humiliate our stars the same way? Why are preposterous game shows the exception, not the rule? Who wouldn’t love to watch McDreamy (ugh) or Zach Effron (ugh ugh) try to cross a set of rotating logs on his butt, only to get soaked in mud and have to do the Macarena? That’s damn good television.

Pepero Day

Happy Pepero Day!

November 11th is a holiday dedicated to capitalism. Okay, so not officially, but if ever there was a holiday that exemplified capitalism, it is this one. Pepero Day is a holiday dedicated to a certain cookie in Korea. They’re long sticks dipped in chocolate (and quite delicious). Today, rather than remember veterans and war, Koreans give each other Pepero cookies.

According to “authorities” (i.e. Wikipedia), the holiday started because some girls in Busan gave each other Pepero cookies to encourage each other to be tall and slim like the cookies. If that’s not the slimmest excuse for a brand-based holiday, I’d like to hear the other. Seriously, couldn’t the company come up with something a little better? I guess it doesn’t matter, because Pepero Day is celebrated pretty heavily in Korea. Apparently it’s on November 11th (11/11) because the date resembles four Pepero cookies.

I could go on a tangent about how this is even worse than Valentine’s Day, but I’m kind of impressed. So today, rather than think of it as a holiday where I express my affection for others through a sweet snack, I’m going to consider it a salute to capitalism. Not only did Pepero create a holiday to boost sales, but they managed to make it so that they were the only company to benefit (take that Hallmark!). I read that over fifty percent of Pepero’s sales come from this holiday.

As another side note, I’d like to mention that Korea celebrates couples on the fourteenth of every month. So those men out there who hate Valentine’s Day should be grateful that it’s once a year. Korean men have to do it 12 times a year. Though in Korea, Valentine’s Day is the holiday where the women give their boyfriends chocolate. Men give gifts to their girlfriends on White Day (a month later).

By the way...

I know I already posted today, but I promised myself I'd post more often (and I had a few more important things to mention). I just wanted to say to all the relatives out there that I really wish I could have been to the wedding this weekend. It would have been much cooler than any of the stuff I did (bars, brunch, and shopping, though not in that order).

W said she'd post some pics on facebook, but being that she just got married I don't want to hassle her. So if you have any pictures... Remember that you have a ______(daughter, granddaughter, niece, cousin, sister) who would turn green with envy...

Speaking of pictures, I bought a camera over the weekend, and I went to Deok Su Gung, which is in the middle of Seoul. It was the main palace for the Great Han Empire. Lots of things have happened to it (not the least of which was the curious addition of Western architecture. Either way, with the fall colors and brand new camera, it was sort of irresistible). Side note: I don't have the memory card just yet, so I could only take four pictures and keep it in my internal memory.

Halloween in Seoul

I said I’d mention Halloween and I’m only a couple weeks late. Go me.

It kind of goes without saying that Korea isn’t exactly into Halloween. To my surprise, there were some decorations and things in a few of the bigger stores. You could buy some small items, but costumes were few and far between. I did Halloween in Italy, so I was kind of prepared for that. Unlike in Siena, I was actually able to find a few things, so it wasn’t just a scavenger hunt through other peoples’ clothes.

I was a fairy. It wasn’t much of a costume, but it was enough for school. We celebrated Halloween at my school, and it was rather awesome. For the morning classes, we had the children do pumpkin piñatas, face painting, and scary stories. The best part was the “Ghost House.” They took my room for the Ghost house, and we put up black trash bags and made a labyrinth. Then they proceeded to scare the children mercilessly.


I did the face painting. It was kind of fun, even though I was really bad at first. One group of boys wanted Power Rangers (they were just stick figures when I did them) and that was rough. After that, I kind of pushed spiders and lightning bolts. I know the boy doesn’t look all that happy in the picture, but after the wicked lightning bolts I gave him he perked up.

For afternoon classes, we got to be in the Ghost House while our own classes went through. Not to worry those at home, but everyone enjoyed scaring the pants off our kids. Naturally, the most evil child in our school (who happens to be in one of my classes) took advantage of the dark to punch a teacher (not me). Other than that, though, it was really fun. My oldest class also reacted the most. Some of them actually refused to go further than the door. This contrasts sharply with the youngest student I had, who just wandered through the place, calm as you please.


I included a picture of most of the teachers at my school. We have a haggard bunch of costumes, but some of them are pretty cool. The creepiest one was the cowboy. The funniest was the guy dressed as a hiking Ajussi. On the weekends, the subways are inundated with hiking couples (Adjuma is an older woman, Ajussi is an older man) dragging huge backpacks and hundreds of dollars in equipment. People didn’t know that he was in costume (he has a flame handkerchief over his face in the picture), and strangers asked him where he was going to hike.

We went out on Saturday night. H was Waldo (Where’s Waldo), which I thought was a really inventive costume. It turns out there were about five other Waldos. It was kind of like the Where’s Waldo with a whole host of people in stripes and you have to find the true Waldo. Except, you know, only five. D was even cooler: She was Sandra Park from 2NE1, a Korean pop group. If you’re curious about her Frank Lloyd Wright hair and odd costume, check out the music video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIRW_elc-rY We actually saw another girl in the same costume (a little more accurate, but with shorter hair). Koreans who saw her often sang a 2NE1 song at her. As a result, we tended to go down the street singing “Ey, ey, ey, ey, ey,ey, e-ey, 2NE1” (If you’re curious or bored, here’s a link to the song we were quoting: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cwq-XdPfpeA&feature=fvst ).




Oddly, we didn’t see any other fairies that night. For Saturday, I was a goth fairy. It wasn’t much of a change from my costume for school, but it sounded cooler. It served me well, and proves that your own costume is only secondary to seeing all the other costumes out there.

Naturally, we went to the two main foreigner neighborhoods for Halloween (Itaewon and Hongdae). Aside from meeting a Korean guy named Ham, it wasn’t really that different from the usual weekend. It rained, but we had a good time wandering around. I also learned that you have to be careful in pronouncing the word “kebob.” If you say “gebob,” (which is easy to do in Korea because they use the same symbol for those sounds), that means dog food. So you might wander around saying “I’m hungry! I could really go for some dog food!” Ham made fun of me, but a guy whose name is Ham doesn’t have much wiggle room in the mocking proteins department.

Chill, Korea, just Chill

I know I went from not posting anything to a new post every day (don't worry, it won't last), but I have to tell everyone this news:

My school is temporarily shut down because of Swine Flu.

Just to give everyone a general idea of how the Shin Chan (Swine Flu) is affecting Korea, I'll tell you how this came about. Obviously there's a Swine Flu pandemic going on. Now, this has been slowly building since August (for us). Unless I'm mistaken, the public schools in Seoul have been closed this whole week.

I looked up a couple statistics, and I thought I'd give you an idea of how serious it is here. (There are roughly 48 million people in South Korea.) This past week, there were an average of 8,857 new cases of Swine Flu every day in South Korea. As of now, there have been 42 Swine flu deaths. Of the tens of thousands of people infected, that's a small margin. But I'm not writing to express the statistics, which will be moot practically as I write this.

The point is, South Korea is really afraid of the flu right now. There have been several quarantines and whatnot, but one of the results of this outbreak is socially acceptable xenophobia. I'm not going to describe the xenophobic experiences I've had since arriving in South Korea. Though they're annoying and insulting (the episodes, not the people), Koreans as a whole aren't awful to foreigners. But the fact is that several hagwons and schools have quarantined foreign teachers, but not their other teachers. Most schools tell teachers that they can't leave the country (though they can still travel in South Korea, which makes no sense. It's obvious that Swine Flu is already in the borders). We have been asked to avoid the foreign parts of town. I've had many people put on masks because I sat next to them. If you need to get people out of your personal bubble, all you have to do is cough and there will be a wide berth around you wherever you are.

The flu has killed some children. It makes sense that several of the private schools shut down this week for that very reason. Even if it's only a PR tactic (there were a couple cases of actual Swine flu in our school, but I'm fairly sure PR was a bigger factor), it's at least an indication that the schools are doing something. This is a country where people go to work no matter how sick they are (I know you think that's the case in the US, but this is a little more extreme. For instance, sick days aren't in our contracts. When I asked about it, they said "Don't get sick."). Children spend massive amounts of time in school and around other students on low amounts of sleep and high stress levels. South Korea has something like 487 people per square kilometer. Some schools have the children cleaning them (not ours, but many public schools), and I won't really touch on hand washing here. Suffice it to say, this is a place ready made for a pandemic.

I'm kind of hoping the current situation will bring about some change in the way Korea treats illness. It's a little difficult to say, however, and let's be honest: I'm not exactly an expert social critic. Either way, I could be angry about some of the reactions to the flu. I could roll my eyes at the hysteria. But considering the expectations Korea puts on children, I'm pretty pleased with the break. If nothing else, kids might get a chance to relax a little and get healthier.

Oops

After posting about Beijing yesterday, I realized that it'd basically been a month since I went to Beijing. So I think it's probably time I stop trying to wait for time to discuss Beijing. Here's a short version of the rest of my trip. Erika and I went to Tienenman Square at night and in the daytime (Erika got gently pushed aside by a soldier when she got in the way of a regiment marching). We walked up to the forbidden city, but decided we didn't feel like waiting in line. The two of us went to a couple parks, had traditional Peking Duck (AWESOME!), and went to a Chinese Opera. I'll include a couple clips of the opera so you can get an idea. We had loads of fun haggling at the Silk Market (I bought a kimono or two, fake Pumas, a fake Gucci watch, a fake Jimmy Choo handbag, and a few other odds and ends). The Summer Palace was really beautiful; the hostel we stayed in was incredible. We ended up befriending the Finnish couple we shared the dorm room with (we got lost together and ended up having some beers in a Chinese bar). Erika and I got so caught up in our enjoyment that we both almost missed our train/flight back to our respective homes. I'll include a few more pictures, but suffice it to say, Beijing may have been the greatest trip I've ever had. We had an amazing time and I loved the city. There are too many stories to tell without annoying everyone, so if you're curious, ask about the Wisconsinite we met, or the bird with a better Chinese accent than me, or the chopsticks "expert." I'd be happy to relate more, but I think it's time I return to discussing life in Korea. For instance, I had a great Halloween weekend. That's a story for a later post (I don't want people to have to catch up too much), so I'll just tell you that Korea doesn't really provide costumes, but I did get to see a guy in a nun habit. No Halloween is complete if you don't see at least one guy in a habit (at least, no Halloween after you start college is complete). One video is at Tienenman Square and the Gate to the Forbidden City. I just wanted to give you an idea of how packed it was. The other two videos are from the Chinese Opera we went to. It was a unique experience, and I would recommend it to anyone who wants to see something they haven't before.

AN EPIC TALE

Here we are again intrepid readers. I will relate the epic tale of the Great Wall of China and our not-so-intrepid hikers. To make this abundantly clear, I would like to point out that I did NOT THINK. I didn’t think at all. They said there would be a walk, but I was picturing the kind of walk that you usually do at tourist places. You wander around, surrounded by other tourists, and don’t really work up a sweat.

The “free water bottle” that came with purchase of our tickets should have been a sign.

Anyway, we drove up to our starting point with a group of American students (younger than Erika and me and mostly female) and two Brits in fluorescent short shorts. I was so excited to get out of the car that all thoughts of nausea were stolen away by the early morning breeze. It was the perfect weather for a hike: cool with a little bit of a bite, enough to make you feel good, but not so much that you should bundle up.

Our driver led us to a map; he pointed out where we were and where we needed to meet him in four hours. That was the red map I put on the previous blog post. That’s also when I realized our hike might be more that a little wandering on a wall. It was a serious hike. With hills. And parts of the wall were crumbly, so we’d have to jump over sections.


We had four hours to get from Jinshanling to Simatai. This didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. However, it was about 11 kilometers of hiking, and this wasn’t an easy eleven. My family likes hiking, and I’m not in terrible shape. But there was no section of wall that was level and easy. We hiked up and down mountain after mountain. If I’d known the difficulty level, maybe I would have prepared a little more. Like getting a good night’s sleep, or drinking more water. There really wasn’t any way to remove the whole vomiting thing, so we’ll ignore it.


Anyway, when we started, Erika and I were kind of behind the group. Not to be pretentious assholes, but neither of us really wanted to be associated with a rather loud group of Americans. We caught up to them talking to six or seven Chinese people. Erika and I kind of ignored them and continued. Then one of the ladies of the group started walking along with us and told us about how she was a poor Mongolian farmer and she had no job. I thought that was an interesting contradiction. Then she pointed out that one side of the wall was Inner Mongolia, and the other was China. I thought that could be interesting if true, but didn't do more than grunt. She then told me about how difficult her life as a Mongolian farmer was, and I found that to be an interesting bit of fiction. We were polite, but not encouraging. After several minutes of attempting conversation, she finally gave up and tried to sell us some shirts.




The first two hours of our hike consisted of that exact group of people trying to sell merchandise. Erika and I managed to avoid most of the hassle because we didn’t encourage them from the start. However, the other Americans had a harder time. When we were going up a particularly steep mountain, the “Mongolian Farmers” would grab their hands and “help” them to the top. Then they’d ask for payment. (I included a picture of the "help") I really don’t blame them for trying to make a living, but then again, they didn’t bother Erika and me (we just weren’t friendly enough). I think the other Americans may have learned the whole “If they’re too friendly, they’re selling something” lesson.



Along the way, there were other people at various towers selling water, pop, juice, t-shirts, postcards, and (my personal favorite) beer. Alas, the years of soccer tournaments taught me that beer would only dehydrate me further (that came out wrong), so I didn’t partake. Also, I didn’t want to spend five won on water.

Eleven kilometers. That’s around seven miles. It doesn’t seem like much, but try doing it in non-hiking clothes, going up and down mountains, dehydrated, and with no food in your system. The first three hours were fine. We took in the stunning beauty of the wall. And I do mean stunning. I took over a hundred pictures of the Great Wall, and Erika might have taken twice that. We really did get an incredible grasp for why the Great Wall is actually great. The views were spectacular, the wall itself was a marvel of epic proportions, and the thought of all the effort and materials that went into it was staggering. All I can say is that the Xiongnu must have scared the pants off the Chinese.

After three hours, however, the wall was just a freaking wall, and the hike seemed like it had lasted for an eternity. I started hallucinating about how I had fallen and broken my head early in the hike. That would make the unending hike Purgatory, and the people selling their overpriced drinks were demons. Or angels. Even after reading Dante, I find Purgatory confusing. It’s a good thing I’m not Catholic. Our fellow hikers were getting incredibly negative, and I realized I was definitely developing a sunburn. Three and a half hours into the hike, we realized that we were lost. None of us knew where we were supposed to stop. Four hours into it, we were even more lost. It seemed like we were supposed to have reached the end, but we didn’t see anything.


After about four and a quarter hours, we reached an area filled with tourists. We were psyched. It had to be the place. The only question was: where was the bloody turn off? You’d think it’d be easy to see.
It was not.


(Insane Cable Suspension Bridge. Picture included mostly for the civil engineers I'm related to.)
Also, we were faced with one of the steepest mountains in our hike. I’m including a picture because the sight alone was enough to make two of the hikers cry (not Erika and me, I swear). It's sort of hard to tell, but look for the towers. It's not that big a deal unless you've been hiking for FOUR HOURS.

We walked down into the valley, and I thought for sure the second tower was the place we turned off. Well, after crossing a rather insane bridge and climbing up to the second tower, literally pausing every five steps, there was this tiny path away from the wall.
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I said, “I think this is it.” The girl we were near said, “Let’s just go around the tower and see if the rest of the group is on the other side. We don’t want to turn off and have to retrace our steps.”

This was a sensible idea, so we did that. Sure enough, the rest of the group was trudging up the mountain. If one of my organs were predisposed to remove itself from my body, my heart would have sunk out the soles of my feet. Apparently, my organs are not predisposed to diffusion (lucky for the rest of me) so I had to keep going (lucky is a state of mind. I was kind of preferring death by organ diffusion at this point). We stepped up five stairs. We paused. We went up two more. We paused. We leaned on the rock wall, literally trying to drag ourselves up with our arms because we couldn’t lift our legs.

I’d like to take a moment from the melodrama and inject some sanity.

I can’t. We really did try to drag ourselves up with our arms. Not only that, but all these other tourists were streaming up and down the stairs past us. All I wanted to shout was “Don’t judge us! We’ve hiked eleven kilometers already!” But I didn’t know how to say that in Chinese (all I could say was hello and thank you. I didn’t think shouting those two words over and over would get any message across other than that I was wrong in the head). Instead, we hiked up that freaking mountain for something like forty minutes. The worst of it was that we didn’t have any idea how much further we needed to go. We were actually lost on the Great Wall of China. It’s a wall, for Christ’s sake. How do you get lost ON a wall? Finally, we found some people who spoke English and asked them where the turnoff for Simatai was.

I’m sure you may have guessed it, but it was that second tower. Nobody was certain, and none of us were willing to climb back up that freaking mountain a second time, so there was a lot of hemming and hawing. However, we went back down and walked off the tower at that tiny turnoff. Ten minutes later, we were in front of the restaurant we were supposed to be at almost an hour before. The only people there ahead of us were the two British guys in their florescent shorts. They’d been waiting for forty-five minutes, and they couldn’t eat until we’d arrived. The two of them mentioned this, and everyone apologized profusely. Then I said, “You guys were sitting in the shade having a beer. I feel more sorry for us.”

Luckily, everyone laughed, or I would’ve looked like a jerk. But really, we walked up an extra mountain and were late because of that. I don’t really care if they had to wait for us.

So that was the Great Wall of China. It began with extreme lack of sleep, food poisoning, and beautiful views. It ended with exhaustion, mild hallucinations and mediocre Chinese food. I suppose that’s as fitting an end to an epic event as any. To those of us who did the hike it was a once in a lifetime experience (largely because we’d never do it again). However, we probably appreciate the awesomeness of the Great Wall of China better than your average tourists. So we’ve got that going for us.