k-drama

The dramatic moments. (I’ll do the boring nicey-nicey useful stuff later)

GETTING BLOODY IN KOREA

Jo loses blood in Jeju.

She loses one tooth on 8 June while chomping on starchy corn. The errant tooth rolls off somewhere onto the wet fishy-smelling floor of the Seogwipo Five-Day Market – which very much resembles the Bedok wet market except it’s a lot more colourful with huge vats of kimchi-ed everything.

She tries unsuccessfully and a little tearfully to find her precious lower lateral incisor. Lulu tries to help.

She loses the upper central incisor a day later on 9 June while chewing on fried cutlet with rice at the Cobaco Restaurant.

That night, Jo writes a note for the tooth fairy to kindly inform her that while there is only one tooth under her pillow, she should be paid for two.

She asks, do I have to write it in Korean?

I say, no, I think the tooth fairy can understand English even if she’s in Korea.

She writes the note.

In the background, non-believers KK and Day play the irritating chorus on repeat mode: It’s Mummy lah! Mummy is going to take the tooth and put money under your pillow! I video-tape her for you and show you OK! Hahahahahaha! Stupid Jo!

The next morning she finds 2,000 won under her pillow which works out to something like S$2.20.

Come on guys, who says the tooth fairy doesn’t exist?

ALMOST MISSING A FLIGHT

It has to happen, right?

We get onto our domestic flight to Jeju from Seoul with minutes to spare. Everybody is stressed.

I think we spent too much time at the cat café which we were at just before the flight.

* That's us behind the kitty. KK swears the cats know how to pose.

Then the taxi driver got caught in a traffic jam before he sped us to the gate of… the wrong terminal.

* Finally at our Eastar Jet

GETTING SICK IN KOREA

Choon is allergic to Korea.

The man who claims to have only fallen sick once in his six years in Darwin arrives in Seoul on 2 June, develops a sore eye, then a sore throat, a fever, a cough, which lasts him well over a week and which he fully recovers from the day he returns to Singapore and stuffs his face with a bowl of fishball noodles.

It’s the food, he says.

ALMOST-CONQUERING HALLA SAN

The highlight of a trip is not always the best thing, it’s sometimes the worst.

It was the mountain.

Halla San is right smack in the middle of Korea’s Jeju Island and is the highest mountain in South Korea. Its 1,950m above sea level and is supposed to be very beautiful.

Nobody said anything about climbing it. With ages from 5 to 76, our party was just going to sort of skirt around it. You know, take some photos and say we were there but not actually sweat.

Then Teng got a bee in his bonnet. He had to climb it. We decided to split. The very old, the very young, the females and the sick would visit museums and drink coffee in warm cafes.

Teng, KK and Day would climb the mountain.

The big day, the boys emerged at 6am. The lady owner of our hostel Sylvia eyed the trio suspiciously, she must have thought they were on a suicide mission.

Outside it was freezing and was about to rain. KK was clad in bermudas, a polo shirt, long-sleeved inner wear and thin-soled shoes completely unsuitable for a mountain trek. Day had nothing but a T-shirt and a jacket with brand new thin-soled shoes bought the day before (the precious loafers went to pieces in Korea). In his hand, KK originally clutched a NTUC plastic bag filled with isotonic drinks, chewing gum, beef jerky and chocolates, the entire sustenance for him and our precious son for their estimated eight-hour trek. Teng looked like a nerd.

The real-time webcam on the summit of Mount Halla showed nothing but white. It was covered in cloud. It would be a fool’s journey.

Still, they went, after Sylvia insisted on foisting a backpack on KK. 

The boys took a bus to the bottom of the mountain. It had started raining, and it would rain for the entire duration of their climb. They bought blue ponchos.

Teng had picked the longest hardest route which goes to the top, the 20km Seongpanak Trail.

* Checkpoint 1

The ground was rocky. As they skipped from one wet rock to another, ponchos flapping uncomfortably around them, they got wetter and wetter. Shoes, socks, pants, clothes. Teng’s black fleece soon became water-logged and ironically icy. Occasionally they stopped to drink from mountain streams. Nobody talked much but KK dutifully whipped out his iPhone to take photos and videos. They were old men, aunties with plastic bags, well-equipped mountain trekkers with poles and Goretex. But no kids. So Day got a lot of attention (many thumbs up and one disapproving trekker who scolded KK for letting his son trek in unsuitable shoes).

* Maybe four hours into the trek...

KK says that was the easy part. The crazy started after they passed the 1,800 metre mark (vertical distance). Because that’s when the trees died out (too high) and they got the full force of the storm.

* Day chewing his gum, which KK thinks sustained him for the entire journey

The poncho flapped around KK’s head so hard his ears became swollen. Day swears he was hit by hailstones although it was probably the stinging rain. Teng was blown off his feet twice. He said his fingers were turning blue. (Day was ‘covered’ by KK). KK thinks Teng got altitude sickness. Everybody couldn’t hear each other in the screaming gale. Climbers were clawing onto stabilizing ropes hammered into the rock to stay on their feet. The temperature at their last check-point was 9 degrees Celcius.

* Ponchos flapping. That handbag!

At this point, Teng, who had always been in the lead, dropped back. KK looked back at Teng’s sickly mien and made the decision. They were so near the top, KK was sure he could have dragged Day there, but he turned around.

As KK puts it, he was in a great position of responsibility: Anything happens to Day and I’ll kill him. Anything happens to Teng and his in-laws will kill him.

So they turned back.

They arrived back at the hostel at 5pm, about 10 hours after they started out.

Did they see anything? Not really. The entire time everything was shrouded in icy mist. Even if they had reached the top, they would have seen nothing.

But when I got back from the museums, KK and Day were beaming and hanging onto each other like lost loves, repeatedly scrolling through the photos and videos of their Halla San Adventure.

KK says, I’m so proud of Day. He’s got good stamina. (He’s normally a whinger) but he never complained once.

Day says, Papa took care of me. He never let go of my hand.

The boys will never forget this. Talk about bonding. Hey its Father's Day!

back from korea

Where:  Seoul (city) and Jeju (dormant volcanic island), Korea

When:   2 June – 13 June
Who:     Me and parents and two brothers, KK and the trio (9 in all)

korea

* By Day

We fly to Seoul in eight hours.

Eleven days, six adults and three kids (our family plus my folks and two brothers).

It’s a big family trip. The first since Tasmania.

Why Korea?

Mum initially wanted Alaska to see the glaciers. I baulked at the air fares to Canada and cost of the Alaskan cruise. Someone said New Zealand but it'd be freezing cold and their skinny Gong Gong would be miserable. Another said Europe but mum hates cheese and pasta and all European cuisine. Someone said Japan but Teng was concerned about radiation. I said anywhere in Southeast Asia like Vietnam or Thailand, but Teng refused to go to what I presume he thinks are backwater places.

Essentially I was very concerned about cost and Teng / mum were very concerned about the experience.

A lot of ding-donging later, we somehow settle on Korea chiefly because none of us have ever been there.

The Darwin brother has flown back for our Korean journey, KK is wondering if he should sedate himself for the flight (he is petrified of flying), I’m an anxious mess of deadlines and the kids are ecstatic jumping beans.

We still don’t have an itinerary, all we have booked are flights and two hostels in Seoul and Jeju. We have no idea what we are going to do.

But really, tomorrow, once I set myself free from e-mail and the mobile, I’m all good.

betrayed

The good is that in nearly 40 years of hiring maids, they’ve always left my folks with a smile and a promise to keep in touch.

That lucky streak ended when Gina, my folk's maid who was away for 18 days compassionate leave because she said her grandmother died, didn’t board the flight back from the Philippines.

Seven years of being part of the family and she left us without a word, phone switched off, uncontactable, after asking for two months advance wages (June and July) from my mum who of course gave it to her just before she left.

* Her empty room and her stool which she always sat on to surf Facebook, play online games and watch Youtube

Beyond the knee-jerk anger, there is a sense of betrayal.

The kids do not seem to care very much, which surprises me. Wasn't she a part of their lives? I mean, I care. Could she not have said something if she had a problem or if she wanted to go back home for good? We would have sent her off with good wishes.

Anyway.

Mum started full-time work the day Gina left, teaching music in a primary school every day (she's one of those can't-retire types). She does housework when she comes home.

The surprise is the kid’s Gong Gong. Mum and I agree he makes an excellent maid. He is full of initiative, very meticulous and bursting with energy. Really, he wasted 76 years not being in the service line.

* Gong Gong's faultless arrangement of recyclables

snapshot

So many snapshots but I am truly fed up.

No holiday I have gone for has ever been plagued by such an insane clashing of work deadlines.

Such is the wretched life of a freelancer, it goes something along these lines: When client A says the work will happen in January, B says March, C says May and D says July.

Then A and B are delayed till May, and D is brought forward to May.

Of course, A, B, C and D all demand their pound of bloody flesh in bloody May (I had very nice free periods in March and April because the promised work was delayed).

There's also such a thing called unanticipated life events, personal issues, sickness and writer's block. I'm not a robot who can make sense of very confusing information and churn out perfect copy quickly all the time. 

Sometimes shit happens in my life too but all I can say to the faceless client is: Apologies for the delay. 

No amount of planning and careful spreading out of work over the months for a regular income flow, will insure against the occasional circumstantial craziness which floods my bloodstream with stress toxins and puts a black cloud over my One Big Annual Holiday, the one time in the year I treat myself and the family to a nice Time Out.

It’s honestly never been so bad. I am only surprised (and very grateful) that my eczema has not re-appeared.

I have two more bloody days to squeeze out 12 hours of work in-between the kid’s schedules, packing luggage and frantically Googling to see where we should go (because of course, nobody has done any trip planning. We have no itinerary).

And through all this, I stubbornly refuse to dump the kids somewhere and just work. I just can't let up on the "kids come first" thing.

Anyway, why am I complaining like a brat? I have too much work. I must repeat to myself: I have too much work. I am blessed. I am grateful. I must work hard.

the macs woman

How delightful it is, for the kids to meet an adult who goes against the grain.

Someone who doesn’t preach about having to eat healthy, sleep early and keep quiet.

JJ loves Macs. And for that reason the kids love JJ.

Every time she comes around, Jo chimes: Let’s eat at MACS!!!!!

And because I have the same tendency to let my hair down when JJ is in the vicinity, I relent.

We pig out at Macs. Nuggets, fish fillet (Oh I love this! JJ exclaims), pack after pack of fries (oh so nice! JJ exclaims), individual drinks for all the kids (no need to share).

Poor JJ gets a lot of flak from other people - particularly Singaporeans - for being different. Not just for embracing Macs but in so many other ways.

But us, we love her.

* Macs in March

* Macs in May

snapshot

The worst thing anyone can say to me, work-wise?

I'M REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO READING YOUR ARTICLE.

No, no, no. You CANNOT be really looking forward to reading my article. It puts a lot of unwanted pressure on my shoulders, I suddenly feel like there is a tower of expectation I have to scale and it freezes the writing part of my brain.

I literally freeze. I cannot perform.

I think it stems from this.

It’s all good if you tell me after the article is out that it’s great. Yes, that’s fine and dandy.

Even better if you tell me you don’t expect much.

But I cannot live with anticipated expectation.

What a time to freeze. When I'm desperately trying to clear stuff before leaving for vacation in six days time. What was it that someone said about pre and post-vacation stress?

walking order

Within our family there is a persistent walking order.

It’s always KK clustered with Day upfront, Jo and Lu together, then me.

* My walking view, always. KK and Day right in the mid-point of the picture.

You wouldn’t know we were a family if you saw us somewhere. KK and Day would look like a father-and-son pair, anywhere from 10 to 30m ahead. The girls and I would look like a separate mother-and-daughter trio.

Once upon a time I really wanted the family to walk together.

KK said: You have to catch up, then. I have to walk fast because if I wait for everyone, we won’t get anywhere.

I said: But we really should wait for the slowest member of the family. And sometimes the kids just want to stop, like Lulu wants to pick a flower or something. Never leave anyone behind, right?

In the end we both stick to our respective guns.

(When we're together sans kids, I walk a lot faster meaning I slow down for the kids, but KK keeps the same pace, which underscores the idea that mums bend backwards for their kids but dads continue doing the same things, more or less)

At the same time, I tell Day: Next time try and wait for your wife and children, OK?

pk's abbie rose

A book publisher said to me once: You know, I think it’s so much harder to draw than to write. It’s much harder to find a good artist than a good writer.

Which is why my artist friend PK is in such great demand! (and I’m not)

After The Never Mind Girl, she’s now drawing for a series of children’s books by Neil Humphreys, on a girl (Abbie Rose, who really looks like PK's daughter Kaining) who uses a magic suitcase to teleport to all sorts of places around the world.

* Not the Sexy books, the ones on the right

Illustrating for children’s books, what a great medium for an artist, free of corporate interference and stupid instructions.

The girls and I (Day is no longer interested in such affairs) troop down to Bookabura at the Forum for the book launch, where the girls immerse themselves in the second book in the series.

Jo asks PK in wonder: How did you draw this?

PK says, I drew it on paper, scanned it in a computer and then coloured it in the computer!

There’s a long line of people all queuing to get their bought books signed by Mr Humphreys. Few ask PK for her signature which is a bit topsy turvy in my opinion for in a children's book, illustrations are equally, if not more, important than the words. Hooray, Auntie PK!

* A photo taken after she signed our book! Girls with their "Magic Suitcase" cakes

door investment

The kids, watching the door man fit a $800 lock on our $8 door.

Well. Something like that.

From now on, we say goodbye to:

• Being locked out of house when we return home (when I do lock the house) because I can’t find the house key.
• KK being stuck outside the house (when I do lock the house) because he never takes his house key with him and we are somewhere else.
• Giving up and not locking the door at all when we all go out.
• Having to ring and ring the doorbell (no key on hand) when KK or I return home solo.
• Being trapped outside the house.

We hate keys. I hate keys.

Give me a key and I guarantee I will lose it. It took me several years for my brain to register the wallet, mobile phone and camera – that these three things will always be with me. Keys just don’t fit in my brain. 

The other day KK asked me to open the letter box. I did. The next day he said he wanted to open the letter box and asked me for the key. I completely forgot where it was.

Now, for the all-important door at least, we’ve got a PIN PAD!

Goodness me. This is the perfect technology for us, particularly forgetful me.

The kids are delighted. They dutifully memorize the PIN and repeatedly step outside the house to come in.

Day and Jo chime: It’s like we are staying in a hotel!

Jo the security nut is particularly chuffed that the house will always be safely and automatically locked without her having to worry.

She even loves the new door closer – this thing which automatically closes the door, slowly, so it doesn’t slam. 

See, she’s always been the door lady. Always does the closing of the door and gates when we return home. Now she’s relieved of one duty. “I only have to close the gate!” she says. (of course the rest of us never bother with the gate)