We're out of quarantine, and the less said of that experience, the better. It is the closest thing to jail that I ever want to experience. Necessary, and I am glad the government here takes the pandemic seriously, but not for the faint of heart.
We're in Cheonan now, ensconced in our upscale hotel. Our room is something like 450 ft², so quite large, indeed apartment-sized, though it lacks some of what you'd expect from an apartment, chiefly a kitchenette and additional closet space. Not much to be done about the lack of cooking capabilities, though we have a very small mini-fridge and can use the similarly undersized 800-watt microwave in the lobby downstairs. But we have been able to address the lack of storage, with various storage boxes and folding cubes and trays obtained from the Lotte mall around the corner, so everything has its own place.
Our hotel, despite being very nice, is suspiciously inexpensive, and now we know why: it's in the older part of town, surrounded by love hotels. If you're not aware of the phenomenon, these are short-stay (three to six hours) hotels where Korean couples go to get away from relations and have relations of their own. (These exist in Japan, too, as rabu hoteru.) Because of the Confucian culture and the high price of real estate, people live with their families until they marry, often into their 30s. The love hotel is how young people manage to get away and satisfy an adult need. Some of these hotels have off-street entrances, and automated check-in, to minimize the risk of being observed. Unfortunately it's all a little seedy, though by no means is the neighborhood dangerous. South Korea has very little street crime, probably due to the Confucian shame-based culture and stiff sentences handed out by the vaguely authoritarian regime here.
Speaking of authoritarianism, I generally lean anarchist, but I am grateful for the strong response to the pandemic here. Everyone wears a medical-grade mask at all times except in their own homes or when eating, enforceable by the police. The government keeps everyone apprised of nearby cases by use of Amber Alert-type mobile alerts, and it seems like testing and isolation are not optional in case of exposure. Social distancing isn't really a thing, but the ≈600 cases a day in a nation of 50,000,000 people would indicate that social distancing is a poor substitute for good masks and rigorous contact tracing and testing. This means one can dine out with relative ease of mind.
What do we eat? Well, we do have a box of snacks here in the room, and if we keep up with shopping, I can avoid going to look for food midday. If we do get hungry and don't want to venture very far, we can go to any number of the convenience stores ubiquitous here. There is a 7-Eleven or similar on every block, sometimes opposite each other. These are better than convenience stores in the U.S., and one can get a fairly generous bento for $4.50 or so. But we've had a few very good meals out, including a Korean soup restaurant, an American-style sandwich shop, a Vietnamese restaurant, and Korean-style fried chicken sandwich concession. If you don't recall from our 2014 trip, the Koreans have taken our fried chicken and topped us by a mile. Some things on our list we haven't yet managed is pizza and Korean barbecue. Typically, you walk into a restaurant and point at a picture, as staff speak little or no English. Translation apps can help decipher menus, and you can go back and forth with waiters on your respective phones as necessary. You sign in on a contact tracing sheet, wait for the food to be served, unmask, eat perhaps a little more quickly than you otherwise might, and mask up again after your last bite. If take-out is an obvious option, you might take your meal to go.
We have made some forays into the wider city, and learned to summon cabs with an app. (Our 2014 trip would have been made vastly easier with smartphones; it's amazing what a difference they make. Our 2017 stay in Taiwan was greatly enhanced by this capability.) On Saturday, we went to an English-language used bookstore, and I found a 1902 copy of Samuel Pepys' diary and a novel by Umberto Eco, and Laura found a small stack of Terry Pratchett books she hadn't already read. There is an Australian bar next door that we understand serves a very creditable Western-style pizza, but unfortunately they weren't open until after we were ready to head home. We also visited Shinsegae, a six-level luxury mall with public art on the grounds, though the rumored Gudetama store wasn't to be found. (I understand there is another luxury mall in town, and perhaps that's where Gudetama may be found.)
Sunday we went to a mountain park, the weather being vernal (a few days before it was 19 F, so highly variable), with winding, very muddy trails up to the top and along a ridge. At the top was a pagoda-like gazebo and various outside public exercise machines, all of which were in use by a surprising number of people. The "mountain" itself is no taller than Pine Hill in Alfred, and much less steep, and probably only exists as a park because it couldn't be built upon, as it is surrounded on all sides by development. (South Korea is a continuous sprawl of concrete and neon, large hills being the sole exception.) Along the ridge were several Buddhist-type tombs near but off the path, and it was unclear to us how old they were or how they ended up in a park. Coming off the hill, we encountered a small temple that seemed to be run as an advice and counseling center, if Google translated the sign correctly. We then walked a couple kilometres, stopping along the way for a bite at the Tous les Jours French-esque bakery, before catching another cell-conjured cab back to the hotel.
That's about it for now. I spend my days reading, mostly, or watching Marc Maron's daily coffee casts and his attempts at intervention with his nip-addicted cat. I have projects I could be working on, but my usual routine has been interrupted and hasn't quite sorted itself out, and I lack the right work surface—the "desk" in the room being more of a vanity, without a chair. With the 14-hour time difference, our days are bookended by messages from folks back home, and in the middle of the day, we can watch the hamster on a webcam Rachel has graciously allowed us to set up in her home, as his primetime is now our daytime. A deserved shout-out to her for watching our precious fuzz bijou while we're away.
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