Subway Sightings

Esther's apartment at Hanyang University was a ten-minute walk from the Wangsimni Station, a transfer station for the purple, green, and blue lines. Most trips we took started from there and cost 900 won, or just under $1. Besides providing more convenience, economy, and environmental- friendliness than driving a car around Seoul, the metro also offers a significant amount of entertainment. Esther and Elisabeth introduced me to challenge of working on crossword puzzles, and though I wasn't much help on our daily efforts, there was the occasional "Ovid" or "Cato" that I could volunteer.

And of course, the people-watching. Many people slept, exhausted from busy days at work. As the train lurched, women kept their balance despite sporting high-heels with more variations of sparkles, bangles and bows than I would have thought possible to design. Their term for spiked heels is "killheels," though whether due to the foot pain from wearing them or their potential as a murder weapon, Ji Eun wasn't able to tell us. Likely both.
Vendors can also hawk merchandise to their captive audiences. From the center of the train, they deliver an energetic spiel, likely touting the absolute necessity of purchasing their wares. I don't know how you persuade someone that they simply must have a shirtless sleeve in pastel nylon, and I don't know if it's for sport, warmth, or sun protection, but every time this happened, people purchased their own stretchy fabric arm-tubes.

Certainly the strangest was the surprise performance from the section reserved for the elderly, disabled or pregnant. A small, stooped septuagenarian in plaid pants and a striped shirt stood up suddenly and stretched. Grasping the ceiling handles (the ones for stability that hang down like gymnastic rings), he hung by his hands, curling his body so that his feet were lifted above his head. After a few reps, he lowered himself, straightened up, and walked proudly to the center of the aisle. He displayed his black belt, then yelled "Hiya!" and kicked above his head. He then settled back into his seat and straightened his red cap.
On another trip, we were invited to purchase vegetable slicers, or so we surmised as the salesman placed thin slices of cucumbers on our arms as he passed through. While a vegetable slicer isn't necessary on a day trip through Seoul, it is necessary to create the beautiful arrangement of julienned vegetables in bebimbap. Though this dish often has meat, it can be ordered vegetarian, and includes seaweed, various mushrooms with the many vegetables, all in a light sesame oil. Stirred together with rice, it was my favorite meal in Korea. Though the cucumber man wasn't able to convince me then, a mandoline slicer has found its way into my possession since my return to the States, waiting for my attempt to recreate this dish. Without the fish eggs, it is readily vegan.