|
June 1999
Oba the Questioner
Let's start with the ubiquitous rolls of toilet paper that adorn the colorful walls of most every modern Pusan eatery. We all know by now that the functioning toilet is actually located elsewhere on the premises, and that the true use of this roll is for much, much more tasteful purposes. Or perhaps not at one unique fried chicken establishment called Dong Dong Cheekeen, located on the main noisy thoroughfare at Pomosa subway station. This establishment has taken honesty in advertising to spectacular new levels: they are offering on their menu: one feces for 2000, two feces for 3000, three feces for 4000 . . . And what's with those absurdly long pointy burnished street shoes that seem to be the rage in Pusan these days? Who hasn't seriously commiserated on this sweeping wave of podiatric peculiarism? Is this fashion statement appearing elsewhere? (On the planet, that is?) I haven't witnessed this sort of footwear before, and I think it makes mirthful fun of all those stuffy business types with extremely cramped feet in overly tight shoes. My biggest beef about Pusan right now is with the city planners and designers, especially the transportation authorities who are expanding the subway line. I'm a huge, huge fan of Vancouver's Skytrain, a state of the art, above-ground monorail conveyance that does everything a subway would do, and then some. It also provides the riding public with all the spectacular scenery of Vancouver, including its rain. I have often ridden the Skytrain line from downtown to the Surrey terminus just to enjoy the views. Here in Pusan, we are blessed with an equally spectacular natural setting, a natural heritage that easily rivals that of Vancouver or San Francisco, with steep and very weird mountains and the ocean in close proximity. Yet it seems to me that the authorities are doing all they can to ignore it. I really think that there's a lack of tourist consciousness in the decision-making processes of most public agencies. Tourist revenues are regarded as accidental, something that occurs outside the scope of normal urban planning. It doesn't have to be that way. As for the public's enjoyment of their own urban utilities, the engineers who design subways apparently think that the public prefers to ride very long distances in dark gloomy tunnels every day, with very little to see and enjoy except the faces of other gloomy passengers. They certainly haven't given thought to the provable and documented benefits of natural light. People just perk up, very noticeably in fact, when the Pusan subway enters the open stretch between Tongnae and Tushil stations. It is quite obvious. I wonder why the public doesn't demand better value for their tax dollars. They should demand the best, yet they often seem to passively adjust to whatever scraps are thrown their way by the authorities. This is their city, their home, and they should really demand better than what they're getting. Some of my former conversation students, a group of married ladies, often reminded me that graft and corruption are widespread at virtually all government levels. They seemed somewhat resigned about it, yet sort of simmering inside was a glowing anger that told me they really hungered for a cleaner and more honest society in which to spend their only lives Onto the bus system. I think it's time that someone printed up a handy little bus route map. It really wouldn't be too difficult; you could simply superimpose all the bus routes and numbers on top of a good existing map. It sure would be a handy dandy little blessing for thousands of simple yokums like me. And how about the lack of transfers? Why do we just pay a fare for every ride we take? Transfers would be very simple, I guess, but then so would a decent cup of coffee. That's what I'd really like to know -- when will the first Starbucks outlet appear here like a rainbow from heaven. I want to know because I want to have an option on the real estate next door. With the line-ups there'll be, I want some of the spillover action. I could sell some fancy o-dangs there next door, or heck, maybe even some boiled eggs for 300 won, or maybe, just maybe, SOMETHING ORIGINAL. Or maybe I'd open up another store selling those wicked burnished pointy shoes . . . There really is a gulf in the coffee service here, from those corner 300 won machines to the swank and plush coffee and cocktail shops that charge 2000 and up (and that's sometimes instant they serve you). There's very little in between: really good quality at a fair price. And no one seems to care a quantum-particle-sized WHIT about the taste of REAL cream in their java. (A whit, by the way, is the quantitative unit of measurement, internationally recognized by the society for measures and standards that denotes one unit of common-sense concern and practical logic.) This white powder is a major, major spiritual aberration, and I think the people of Pusan will have to look very, very deeply within themselves to understand the genuine origin and source of this apathy toward even a modicum of quality and value in their coffee break experience. Here's another question. Where do all those little old herb-selling ladies come from, and where do they all go at night? What sort of coin do they make, if any? Where do all these little old women procure all these herbs anyway? Is there some gigantic collective farm somewhere? Hidden away in the mountains? Or does this fine greenery all come from small household plots? How many different sorts of herbs are there, and what are they all used for? Heck, why not ask the really important question: does all this herb and vegetable selling qualify them eventually for any sort of pension benefits, or any annuity of any sort on the sad but inevitable day that all their herbs finally dry up ? So many questions, and so little real coffee. |
|
|
|
|
|