Moving Season

The last true holiday vacation we will have until July, the Lunar New Year period was about as uneventful as a five-day weekend could be; despite plotting with one of my friends to fly off to China for a vacation filled with fireworks and dragon parades, it was a combination of our finances, our girlfriends, and devastating nation-wide blizzards in China reportedly stranding visiting tourists that grounded our dreams. Instead, we were left with the far less flashy Korean lunar new year, Seol-na, which as far as foreigners is concerned is like another Chuseok: everything is closed. It's like being Jewish on Christmas morning, except that it lasts three days. Nothing to do but wait it out. And drink. A lot.

It's been a long time since I've woken up at 4pm, but I suppose that is to be expected after consecutive 5 or 6 am nights. Having just recently moved, we have now found ourselves located right next to one of the main foreigner bars on the island. What this means is, after what would by all other accounts be a full night out at the bar, "going home" has somehow become synonymous with "going to the Blue Agave for an hour, then maybe walking down the road to McDonalds for breakfast". Really, it is cheaper to convince a group of people to leave City Hall and share a cab with us back to our area of town, though I don't think those saving compare to the inevitable drink or two at the Agave. Somehow the flaw in my money-saving scheme has never occurred to me at the time.

Doors!
We've finally made the move out of our molded, claustrophobic former living arrangements- what the Koreans call a "One-Room Officetel"- into a much more spacious arrangement... still an officetel, but now we actually have doors! And not just a front door, or a bathroom door, because of course we had those before, but now we have a mini-patio room to dry clothes in (there are no clothes dryers in Korea, but now instead of taking 5 days to dry in a shut bathroom, they take 2 days to dry!). Most exciting, of course, is the fact that we have bedroom doors now... or that we have a proper "bedroom" for that matter. And by creating a bedroom, we simultaneously gain a "living room". No longer is the bed a kitchen table and couch. As an added bonus, I finally have a full-sized refrigerator, which is a huge improvement and a welcome change after years of living in Guinan Hall, and then stashing my food in my own small fridge for the last year, because, let's face it, that fridge in the Corner House was never mine. I'm not even convinced that half of it's contents belonged to anyone. They were just there, always had been, always would be.

It does come as something of a blow to have to leave the warm neon bosom of City Hall, with its scores of galbi restaurants and literally hundreds of bars within a half-mile radius. The old one room place was up a sharp hill shooting out of the heart of it all, a late-night climb often lamented but in no way comparable to the distance between us and the heart of the city now. Aside from the one aforementioned bar, we essentially live in a gloomy medical district, populated by pharmacies and funeral homes huddled around the hulking and sterile gray mass of Jeju University Hospital, a proximity which is convenient only in illness, a state which I feel I have had more than enough of. No doubt our plans to purchase a car within a month or so will reduced the isolated feeling that has come with this relocation, but for now I feel like I've gone from Manhattan to a New Jersey suburb.

At least the taxis are relatively cheap. And at least we have friends in our new building already.

Considering the circumstances, however, it's plain to see that location preference took a back seat to immediate necessity. Due to a series of strained and misinterpreted exchanges between me and the series of relays I had to use to talk to the owner of our former unit, concerning the mold problem, and following what was perhaps an ill-conceived attempt to bluff that we'd "have to think about leaving" if the problem wasn't solved (which considering the amount of subtlety and nuance often lost in translation probably came across as more of an ultimatum that I had intended), we were informed that despite our year lease agreement, the unit was being sold as soon as possible. Our contract had been with the "owner of the unit", thus if he sold said unit, he was no longer a party in the contract. Or some such bullshit. So, we could be kicked out as soon as someone bought it.

So, we moved. We were fortunate enough to have hit the prime season for moving in Jeju, and by "prime season", I mean, "superstitious annual wave of relocation to escape from ghosts". I'm not kidding. This is not a few people moving, it is a huge number of people who feel the need every February to uproot themselves and their loved ones, and move to a new location. Whether or not they all subscribe to the superstition behind the idea of "moving season" here, I can't be sure. But it is fairly prolific, I understand, to find a new house in order to escape from evil spirits that have taken up residency in one's old place. I've heard of such extremes as individuals not giving anyone their new address until some time has passed and they are sure the ghosts have lost their trail.

Thus, by the grace of this mass exodus, we were able to find a unit in Jina Tower Officetel, and on February 1st we packed the surprising amount of crap we've accumulated and hauled it down to the new place, with our new bed and couch delivered later that afternoon. We finally got out of the damp, cramped cage we had so long been living in.

Where We Lived: Ido One-Room Officetel
The first two were taken from the same spot, with a slight angle of pivot.




Why We Moved
An example of the state of the wallpaper.


Our New Apartment
Complete with actual rooms (though in the middle of being unpacked)




We have to shower over the sink now, though.




And as a final aside, I met a guy on the island who had some photos from the wrestling competition, taken with a better camera.. Photo credits to Brian Miller.