Friday 14 December 2007

Thursday 13 December 2007

And so to my last day in Seoul, which was sunny and bright like the day I arrived. I got up early, breakfasted in a leisurely manner, waited for Seoncheol Kim to turn up (he was late), accepted the various gifts he brought, notably large wads of cash and CDs of the prerelease version of the Sejong Corpora, was photographed with him and a lady in traditional dress thoughtfully provided by the hotel apparently solely for this purpose, bade him a fond farewell and got on the bus to the airport. Where I went through the usual boring procedures to get myself eventually on to an aeroplane pointed in the general direction of Europe, being plied with food and drink again, but this time by nice Korean ladies in tasteful turquoise uniforms. And that, dear reader, is really the end of this particular adventure, since the rest is all about airports. I arrived back in Oxford at about 1020 pm: since I took the 1020 bus from outside the Hotel, and Korea is 9 hours ahead, I make that a door-to-door time of 21 hours. More than enough to justify going to bed immediately.

Wednesday 12 December 2007





My third full day in Seoul was the best. For one thing, I had a leisurely breakfast featuring real fried eggs. I had to get a talk ready, but that's nothing new (and neither was the talk, ha ha). I ventured out of the hotel in search of coffee about 1130, past a shop offering "Sweet Buns" and into the maze of little streets which fill the gaps behind the huge sky scrapers and office blocks in the business centre. I got my coffee in a little corner shop: cappucino is served in a plastic cup with a flattened straw so you can drink it even when its hot. Outside, someone was making a very loud political broadcast from a van, bizarrely of himself. Suddenly, the streets filled with office workers in search of lunch: I was swept along by a tidal wave of smartly dressed people desperate for kimchi and soup: eventually I settled for a lunch which looked soup-free inside something called a "bier hall", though no-one was drinking or being offered beer, where I had the full monty option -- two pieces fried meat and one of fried fish, together with the usual assorted vegetables and sauce for a mere 5500 wong.

The stream with amazing lights that I saw on day one is probably the most interesting thing in this bit of town, even when the lights are off. Cheonggyecheon Stream was more of a covered over sewer for most of the 20th century, but in 2005 it seems the mayor of Seoul organized a major environmental clean-up which involved uncovering it, giving it a nice new bottom, and surrounding it with tasteful stonework, so that it became a long park running through the city, a little oasis for pedestrians. Most of it is about ten metres below street level, with a tastefully variegated stone walkways on either side of the stream, also featuring occasional stepping stones, wooden bridges, and a few grasses and reeds. No visible fish, and the water is only about six inches deep, but it looks clean and makes a pleasant sploshing noise which drowns out most of the traffic noise above, for once. There is some tasteful Korean art underneath one of the bridges, and a rather nice long mural showing King Jeongio's Royal Parade but not much else to look at.

After a while the huge office blocks above the stream give way to the usual kind of Asian shopping cityscape of hundreds of little specialist shops with wares spilling out onto the pavement, and extending down tempting little chaotic alleyways. The area I walked through when I surfaced from the stream seemed to be devoted to ironmongery so there were shops selling every imaginable kind of lightbulb, or every kind of copper tube, or great snaking heaps of plastic piping, or dozens of differently sized electrical generators. and every possible variant on the humble waterpump. It reminded me of my grandpa's shop a bit.

Resisting the temptation to explore further, I then rushed back to the hotel to meet up with my hosts from Korean Uni for the afternoon. Instead of Beom Mo Chang, I found I was being waited for by two charming young graduate students of his, who giggled rather a lot, bundled me into a taxi, and off we drove to Korea University, through lots of much more interesting looking bits of town. Their brief was to give me a tour of the University campus, but I managed to prevail on them instead to sit and drink tea and natter, which was very nice. Then they delivered me to Professor Kim's office, by means of campus shuttle bus, where I was given books, and thanked, and rushed off to give my standard TEI P5 talk, to an audience of about 20 students and staff, some of whom seemed to enjoy it. And we then went to dinner in a Chinese Restaurant, or what passes for same in Korea. Maybe it was just having more manageable Chinese-style chopsticks, maybe it was being plied with soju, maybe it was being surrounded by anglophones, but this dinner was much more relaxed and enjoyable than yesterday's. Come to think of it, it's probably because the other guests were all academics rather than civil servants. Then Professor Chang took me back to my hotel by subway, a rare treat, and I caught up on my email, packed, and went to bed early.

Tuesday 11 December 2007

Day 3 begins with my mental clock repeatedly kicking me into action a little prematurely, i.e. at 4 am, 5.30, and 7.30, when I reluctantly rise and shower, and discover, oh horror, that although my suit is quite presentable I have forgotten to pack a tie. To appear before the Minister of Culture without a tie would be unthinkable. Fortunately, however, this is the Hotel Posh, and they have a shop offering a wide choice of overpriced and horrible neck wear even before breakfast. The nice lady recommends me a blue one "to match my eyes" and I proceed triumphantly to breakfast. This time I am not quite so late, and therefore there is bacon to go with the scrambled eggs, and the room is full of busy business people, even some exotic looking westerners.

I rush downstairs just a few minutes before my minder arrives at 0900, a taxi is hailed, and off we go to the Korean National Museum for the "21 Year Sejong Corpus" Launch.




This is a major media event, featuring TV cameras, lots of men in suits, girls handing out bouquets of flowers (yes I got one) etc. There is an interesting exhibition with little booths displaying Korean NLP software of various flavours, complemented by a lady making souvenir printouts using rather older technology. The morning consisted of a very loud and incomprehensible video about the project, followed by incomprehensible speeches in Korean from the Ministry and the top boffins behind this 21 year old national corpus project, followed by a very bizarre concert, featuring traditional instruments, drums, bowed fiddles, harpsichords, etc. together with an electric piano, and a conductor in a frock coat. Energetic but weird. Oh, and then I gave my talk, very slowly and clearly, only getting a bit lost in the middle on account of forgetting whether I was supposed to finish at noon or 1230. In the event I stopped at 1220 and no-one complained, to me at least.

Then I was rushed off for lunch in the Museum resto, which turned out to be kimchi and bone soup, with rice and noodles, quelle surprise. Kiyong Lee then bought me a decent cup of coffee in the museum coffee shop, and we had a chat about TEI/ISO work till he returned for the afternoon session. Being officially excused attendance from this since it consisted of real work reports in Korean, I then spent a couple of hours pottering around the museum, mostly enjoying the displays of buddhist paintings and calligraphy, since I still don't see what all the fuss about porcelain is for, and learning a bit about Korean history which I will probably forget quite soon. It's an impressive building with lots of space and many dramatic vistas.

I returned to the conference proper a decent interval before it finished; had my photo taken numerous times and exchanged a few business cards (It's what we honky celebs do, you know) and then we all trooped out to get the bus to the posh restaurant for dinner. Good thing about dinner: we didn't sit on the floor. Not so good: I was mostly surrounded by people who didn't speak English and I didn't discover till very late that at least one of them spoke quite good French. Korean banquets in my experience follow much the same pattern as Japanese ones, though never say that to a Korean; they have slightly different weird ingredients (kimchi, for example) but the procedure is the same: harassed ladies bring lots of little dishes of strange things to eat and plonk them down in front of you. Some of the strange things are accompanied by strange sauces to dunk them in; others are not. Some of them are meant to be assembled into little parcels before dunking (not so easy with fiendishly difficult Korean chopsticks); others you can just eat. There is a sweetish rice-wine or beer or tea, but you are not allowed to pour your own drink. There is soup, usually a bit fishy and spicy. The strange things today included delicious raw fish, boiled beef ribs, and really quite nasty rotted fish. And just when you think everything's over, they bring on the so called main course which is... ta daa, rice, kimchi, and assorted pickles. A few slices of snow pear and some rather nice fruit juice, some closing words from the chief boffin, and we're out of there.

Monday 10 December 2007

If you finally get to bed at 11 pm local time, having stayed up with only intermittent naps for about 24 hours, chances are you'll oversleep, but wake up feeling wonderfully refreshed or at least fully conscious for the first time in a long time. And so indeed it was, with me too dear readers, as I strolled eventually into the breakfast room at the Hotel Posh, about five minutes before closing time. A thorough survey revealed: interesting slices of fresh fruit, lots of ornamental salad, and the usual assortment of buffet type materials, both oriental and western. There is the option of freshly made omelettes which I mentally reserve for a later date. There is fairly dire coffee. There is an industrial scale toaster. I consume as much breakfast as I can in the short time available while waiters hover anxiously clearing tables away all around me, and then return to my room to consider my options. I could go out now or wait for the weather to improve (it's gray); I could worry about my talk; I could check my email. No prizes for guessing which I do first; I am touched by the number of happy birthdays I received on facebook while I was asleep. Then I try to find the most recent version of my talk on some available computer (no of course I didn't look in the right place) and worry a bit about that till hunger forces me out to lunch about 2 pm.

After some wandering about (the Hotel Posh is next door to the Town hall in Seoul's business centre, so mostly surrounded with skyscrapers), I plunge into an establishment offering grilled meat, but not (it transpires) at lunchtime. So it's another bowl of boiling Korean soup with cold rice noodles and kimchi, this time served in a stone pot and accompanied by purple rice. The soup contains something white and fluffy which I hope is tofu; it also contains several
mollusc like things fortunately still in their shells, and a few shrimps which I try to ignore. The rice is steeped in weak tea. Ah well, it's filling and warming on a cold day. A touch of shopping (dried persimmons from a street vendor, a gadget to upload photos and some neat pens from a gadget shop, a nice cake for dinner) and then it's time to return for my appointment with my minder Seoncheol at 4 pm. He's already at the hotel waiting.

Off we go in his car again, to the Ministry of Culture just down the road, where he parks, and then heads off purposefully in the direction of the street thoughtfully set aside for the benefit of tourists, he explains, which turns out to be full of interesting little shops selling Korean schmuck (paper, glittery things, brassware, ceramics...) arty shops, and coffee bars. It also has specially appointed places where you can pose for photographs, which I duly do, once in front of a photo of a glamorous newscaster and once with a large wooden hammer, supplied by an amused vendor of traditional rice-based produce.

Then Seoncheol announces that it's time we headed for his home which, it transpires, is an hour's drive through the same motorway madness that I experienced yesterday. But this is compensated for by the opportunity to meet his charming wife and two small children (10 and 8), who are gratifyingly excited by the sight of Father Christnmas bearing cake. Dinner is eaten seated on the floor, of course: Mrs Kim (her English name is Shannon it seems) converses in English much better than her husband, and has made shabu shabu in my honour; her daughter is a Harry Potter fan. Her son, a stickler for protocol like his father, insists that we put candles on the cake, and sing happy birthday to me in Korean. Which is all very nice. Then I discover that Seoncheol has actually already translated the correct version of my talk into Korean so I dont need to worry about it after all, hoorah. Instead, I show off photos of my lovely family via the internet. In fact the evening is a great success, spoiled only for me by the fact that the return drive runs into a massive traffic jam on the five lane highway, apparently caused by the police slowing the traffic down sufficiently for them to check each car for some recent criminal as it crawls by. Anyway, I am back in bed by 11 pm again.

9 December 2007

The sun was shining brightly at Incheon airport, as we came into land even though it was about 4 am UK time, which being nine hours behind Korean time, it's hardly surprising. The airport is infeasibly spacious and clean and modern. No-one is there to meet me when I emerge from Arrivals Gate E, which is a tad depressing, but not surprising since (as an expensive phone call subsequently reveals) my host Seoncheol Kim from the NIKL is waiting for me at Arrivals Gate B. He seems a bit flustered, which is also unsurprising. And off we go in his car through the sunshine, over the long bridge, round the miles and miles and miles of super highway madness that surrounds Seoul, and eventually into the Hotel Extremely Posh, where he hands over wads of cash for my spending money, tells me exactly where I have to be and when for the next three days and then disappears, allowing me to shower and collapse into this very large and comfortable bed for an hour or two. When night falls, I get up again and go for a walk outside where it's bitterly cold but there is amazing spectacle of lights across the road where couples and families with small cute children wearing funny hats are walking around taking photos of each other. So I do same. Street vendors are selling octopus-related stuff on sticks, and what look like large fat brown grubs, as well as more conventional fare such as soup and noodles and chestnuts. After wandering about an hour or so, I dive into a nice small noodle bar and contend with the joy of kimchi and the headache of korean chopsticks for a bit. By now it's getting late and I am fading fast so stagger back to hotel to write up my birthday adventures so far.

Saturday 8 December 2007


It was raining when I left Oxford and probably still is, even though it's my birthday or so they tell me. I took photos of puddles in Walton Street [1], and through the windows of the Heathrow bus [2] as it splashed its way out of Gloucester Green, full of would-be Oxford students returning home after their admissions week interviews, and not knowing whether they would ever be coming back. I at least intend to return, and very shortly.

At Terminal 4 an officious person officiously pushed buttons
on my behalf and checked me in all the way to Seoul. I had coffee in daylight, through the not-so-fast track gate, and on to the amusingly named Holideck lounge to gorge on free cakes and coffee and (when I'd figured out how to do it) free internet too.

On the way to Amsterdam I enjoyed a rather fine lunch and also wrote an XSL script to convert the Sejong corpus to a format which Xaira should be able to hand. Then I had a momentary panic trying to get to my gate in time: they had inconsiderately changed it, and Schiphol has more miles and miles of indistinguishable walkways than is quite decent even for an airport. The tv monitors that used to say "See other screens" now say "Consult Other Displays" which I still find amusing. At gate B22, finally, I sat and waited along with a crowd of happy Korean athletes returning from some youth competition in Spain, several of them clutching shiny metal trophies.

I turned left on entering the plane and proceeded to the sharp end, where the seats are personalised islands each with their own tables and tv screens ingeniously folded away. Nice Dutch ladies plied me with food and drink and safety instructions, as they usually do in such places. What's to remember? The food and drink was mostly delicious and served on real china and glass (I know the glass was real because I broke one). I watched two movies: an Indian remake of "Le diner des cons" which was quite good, and a strange Japanese comedy loosely based on "Back to the Future" in which a teenager journeys back in time to the 1990s by means of a time machine her mum has made out of a washing machine (no, really) in order to save Japan from economic collapse. I think. My eyes were hurting by then so I tried to contort my mechanically contortable chair into a comfortable shape, not so easy, and tried to snooze a bit, ditto.