After the Fairy Tale Bike Trip

It occurs to me that I didn't exactly explain why, on that fateful Wednesday a few weeks back when my coworkers stayed home and watched movies and played video games and went out for rice wine and pancakes, that I chose to punish myself by biking for what I thought would be about 110k.

Reason 1) Finding the "real" Korea. One of the great things about biking around is that you notice a bunch of stuff you wouldn't otherwise see or pay attention to. This is true even in your hometown, but truer the farther you go. And exponentially true when you get lost.

Here, for example, is a gem: the bus stop near Cheongdo where I took my first fruit-n-nut break about 45k from my home. Pretty hard not to note the giant plastic persimmon on top, eh?

More than I remember back home, cities here tend to advertise themselves through identification with certain foods, generally fruits*. You see these ads on TV, on the subway, on fliers, and even within the cities themselves. I guess every city, wanting a slice of the famous pie, has to find a way to make itself special. Apparently this works very well - when I tell someone I went to Mungyeong, they say "Wow, did you bring back any apples?" And when I say I went down to Miryang, they ask about peaches and persimmons. I hope you didn't miss the bibimbap in Jeonju.

I don't remember this being so true in the US. The only example I can think of, where we associate a place with a food, is Georgia peaches. But, even then, Georgia is probably twice the size of Korea, and I don't recall seeing billboards and ads for peaches while passing through.

Of course, it's not all golden persimmons. Often, what backpacker-types (myself included) mean when they say the want to see the "real" __________ (insert place name here) is that they want to get away from the factories and malls and modernity (and hostels and bars and all the stuff that backpacking itself has brought about**) and see what the place was like back when it was different from the rest of the globalized world. But there are other things, less pretty things, that are perhaps less elusive and yet are equally "real" - actually, in my view, more real, if you consider that they constitute the essence of our society and indicate the direction it's moving in.

Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures. But what I'm referring to is all the factories, warehouses, animal feedlots (actually not so bad here compared to US CAFO's), regional distribution centers, junkyards, and dried-out rivers that lie just outside the peripheral vision of most city-dwellers. We all know, subconsciously, that these dirty, noisy, polluted, polluting, despondent places exist, but the people who sell you the end product, be it a fruit or a shirt or a PDA or a Kia, have an interest in helping us to forget. I say "helping" because I believe we too are complicit in wanting to forget, in not wanting to realize what the things we want require, whether in terms of infrastructure, destruction, human life and labor, inputs, byproducts, or anything else. If we knew - if it were even possible to know - our consciences might pressure us into becoming informed (and thus, ideally, considerate and compassionate) consumers.

Of course, I didn't enter any factories, talk to any workers or anything like that. I just passed by. But you don't have to interview a dog on a dog farm, chained to its mini-house, eating a shitting and sleeping within about a 5 foot radius for most of its life, to know that it's miserable. When the factory is several hundred meters from the road and the smell and smog hit you anyway, you know it must not be pleasant to work inside***. When a new building goes up in the city, usually it's replacing an old building, or maybe it's being built on an empty lot, itself surrounded by other buildings. This makes it easy to ignore the environmental toll - the unavoidable fact that huge buildings and deep foundations require us to chop down trees and then often flatten the mountain they were growing on. There's no way to ignore this when you see the HomePlus/TESCO/Samsung distribution sitting in an empty space where the mountain used to be. The dirt that used to be mountain, and which is now, I guess, just in the way, is piled in cones all around, nowhere to go, noway to be used. I doubt anyone wants to live near or work in these places. Certainly, nobody wants to spend their vacation there, basking in the "reality." I hardly even want to admit they exist, and that in many ways, I need them.

End of analysis / diatribe. Enjoy a few more photos!

Having a rest at the border with the next province. 65k or so.

Substantiating at least one of my claims.

The figs that were waiting for me.

And a few more of the many reasons why I love Honorable Older Brother and Honorable Older Sister's house:

And perhaps the coolest flower photo I've ever taken:
(No special effects, unless you count the use of the digital camera itself, which I suppose would be fair enough.)

*Many cities do the same with inedible products and services - Seoul advertises itself as a business and cultural hub, Daegu as a textile giant, Pohang for steel, etc, none of which comes off as quite so quaint or cheesy or charming.

** See this post of yesteryear for a great David Foster Wallace quotation to this effect.

*** Or, if it does happen to be pleasant inside, that means they must be pumping all the nasty stuff out. Not exactly a great alternative.

Wisdom #9

I have a boatload of photos to upload and a few posts I've been meaning to do for months but...it's easier just to transcribe a little Chomsky.

"Modern industrial civilization has developed within a certain system of convenient myths. The driving force of modern industrial civilization has been individual material gain, which is accepted as legitimate, even praiseworthy, on the grounds that "private vices yield public benefits," in the classic formulation. Now it's long been understood--very well--that a society that is based on this principle will destroy itself in time. It can only persist--with whatever suffering and injustice it entails--as long as it's possible to pretend that the destructive forces that humans create are limited, that the world is an infinite resource, and that the world is an infinite garbage can. At this stage of history, either the general population will take control of its own destiny and will concern itself with community interests guided by values of solidarity and sympathy and concern for others or--alternatively--there will be no destiny for anyone to control."

From the documentary, "Manufacturing Consent."

Wisdom #8

"I have finished this book in April 1962, in the tenth month of my sabbatical year. The earth looks good from my window: the last protective brown leaves are falling from the oak and little yellow-green ones start from the twigs and branches of the willow; the Japanese quince is fully of tiny leaves, and the tinier buds of the quince blossoms are already pink among them. The peach tree that my wife planted from a pit is ten feet high this spring, and the dogweed is grey with a foam of new buds. It seems scarcely possible that the world should be in the state I describe in this book."

Jules Henry, Culture Against Man, Preface

A Truely Gruling Day; A Truely Splended Eve

Arrive at 6 on the dot to Honorable Elder Brother on the phone in the workshop talking about tractors and Honorable Elder Sister cooking dinner and ushering me in to a hot bath. Oh yes. There are two large bowls (I'm talking 1-foot diameter) of figs, just picked off the tree in the front yard. They are waiting for me to be clean.

Dinner is on the table when I get out of the bath. A hefty serving of rice along with sweet potato noodles (seasoned with sesame oil topped with seaweed) and some old, sour, rinsed, fantastic kimchi on the side. Also, bowls of Sesame Leaf Kimchi and another watery kimchi made of onions and some other leafy green. Also, a humble offering of candied peanuts, which I bought from the organic shop, de-shelled, and then made myself. Two bowls of Farmer's rice wine, which tastes all the better after 7.5 hours on a bicycle. We have a nice chat over dinner about this and that - their gardens, the seeds I gave them, the chicken coop I helped H.E.B. work on, my garden, Basil. H.E.S. says "Wow, it's been such a long time since we ate with Mike, I kind of want to get drunk." For dessert, fresh figs galore. For immediately post-dessert dessert, some sweet roasted sweet potatoes.

Then H.E.S., who is a nurse during the day, prepares some boiling hot water, soaks some towels, rubs some mint jelly stuff on my legs, and gives me a thigh massage. She tells me that 141km is probably too far to ride my bicycle in a day and that maybe tomorrow I should consider just lazing around the house all day. I may just take her up on that. She shows me how to control the electric blanket on the bed and turns it up to 5 out of 7. She sends me to bed. I tell her to wake me up in the morning, that I feel like I should at least say goodbye after receiving such excellent hospitality. She tells me not to be ridiculous, that I can say goodbye next time I come.

_____________________________
Events leading up to the above:

7:00 Wake up, pack, eat a monster breakfast consisting of all the leftovers in my fridge. Potatoes, "deo-deok" roots, hot peppers, dipping paste, lotus roots.
8:35 Depart.
9:35 First 20k done. Good pace.
10:35 2nd 20k done. Good pace.

(Somewhere in between 9:35 and 10:35 I notice that there are persimmon trees all around and that some of the branches are hanging over the road. It occurs to me that I could nab one without even stopping. I grab one off a tree, separate it from the branch and leaves that came with it, and start to much, all while zipping along. Unfortunately, it's rather astringent [a trendy nickname for Persimmons these days is "astringency"] and I wonder whether it's just not quite ripe or whether it's got pesticide all over it. I get all worked up and have to stop, not sure whether or not I'll vomit. Punishment 1. Later, I'm looking at the Persimmon, thinking about the Golden Rule, and wondering if, if I had a farm, I'd be upset if a biker grabbed one of my fruits for sustenance on his trip. I fail to notice a speedbump and almost wipe out. Punishment 2. Then, When I'm done, I chuck the inedible part off to the side of the road. The motion dislodges but doesn't quite knock off my left pannier bag; had it fallen off, I might have gone down with it. Punishment 3.)

10:44 First rest stop at a little bus stand. It's got a large plastic persimmon on top. Snack on some tangerines and almonds.
11:45 60 Km down. Pace is still god - looks like it'll be a short trip. Entering the next province. Have a lie-down on the side of the road under some flags and chestnut trees. Snack a little more, then move on.
12:00 All of a sudden, town with some restaurants. Settle on spicy tofu soup. Rice, soup, 6 side dishes, water bottle refill: less than 5 bucks. Also, 20 minute nap on the grass in the restaurant's front yard.
1:00 Recommence.
3:00 100 kilos. Speed is a little lower. The whole trip is supposed to be 107 or 114, but according to the signs I'm still 30-odd kilos out. A little nervous. But only a little.
Until 6:00 3 hours to finish the last 40 kilos. I stop about 10 times to ask directions, and stop several more to push my bike up hills. Rule of thumb: Walking speed is 5.5 km/h. If the terrain is steep enough that you can't ride at twice that speed, it's not worth it. Consider giving up and asking the farmer to come pick me up somewhere, but I eventually find some flat ground and my 2nd (or 10th) wind. I can see their house from across the river...just gotta find the bridge. Hark!

R(eally) I(ncr(edibly)) C(lean and) E(asy)

That's right, that monstrosity up there is an acronym. AAFR. An Acronym for Rice.

I have been here for four years, and, as far as I can remember (a blog search confirms this), have not written a post about rice. Over the years I have shared my experiences with Kimchi and Bulgogi, lotus and pheasant, pancakes and octopodes. And yet not once have I devoted a post explicitly to the little grainy guy that that makes a meal a meal and not just some random collection of sides with nothing to tie them together.

There are reasons for said dearth. First of all, white rice is boring. Not particularly tasty, not particularly beautiful, not particularly healthy. Second, it's everywhere. The only way to avoid it at a restaurant is to eat noodles, which may or may not be made of rice powder. Third, because of reasons 1 and 2, I don't usually cook it at home. Fourth, I was never very good at cooking it.

[There is a good reason for said inability to cook. When I first arrived, one of my coworkers gave me a rice-cooker that had been sitting around her house for years. It was a fairly low-quality device, with a burnt-out light and leaky steam catcher. It always burned rice to the bottom of the pan and dribble sludge onto the counter. Even though I kept spreadsheets detailing the ratios of rice to water and the cooking duration and all that, I could never quite get it right; matter over mind, I suppose. But, already possessing a (somewhat) (dys)functional rice cooker, I couldn't convince myself to buy another. This left me to choose between cooking rice and burning a third of it, cooking it in a pot when I already had a cooker, or just not bothering.]

That is, until now! In addition to teaching me how to use chopsticks, speak Korean, and deny myself pleasures in the name of the greater good*,**, I can now say that my time in the East has granted me some substantial rice-cooking skills.

I hereby impart them to you.

What to cook:

1) Mixed-grain rice (the more mixed, the better. I've seen 5, 7, 11, 14, 17, 25, and maybe 29-grain varieties. The 14-grain I used today includes sorghum, glutinous brown rice, barley, glutinous millet, corn, glutinous rice, brown rice, black rice, millet, split green peas and black beans, and 3 other legumes I can't translate ). Add about 1.5 times as much water by volume. Salt a little, if you like.

{{PARDON THE INTERRUPTION BUT: MY INDIAN NEIGHBOR JUST CAME OVER UNANNOUNCED (BUT NOT UNWELCOMED) WITH A DISH OF TAMIL-STYLE CHICKPEAS COOKED WITH CURRY LEAVES AND CUMIN AND COCONUT AND IS IN FACT ONE HECK OF AN UPSTANDING GENT. THIS IS WHY IT PAYS TO LEAVE YOUR FRONT DOOR OPEN.}}

2) Get crazy! Chop up a little sweet potato or sweet pumpkin and toss it in! Unapologetically strew about some pea- or chest-nuts. Even some (shelled) sunflower or pumpkin seeds. Add a little more water if you dump in a lot of extras.

How not to cook it:

3) Many people go for what I like to call the "rice and water in a pot over heat" method. While time-tested and fairly simple, this method generally requires a fair amount of caution and attention, and even so, is likely to result in some inedible rice and unpleasant cleaning experiences. The more varieties of rice and beans you're cooking, the truer this is.

4) You may be tempted to use a pressure cooker to cook the rice faster. Good idea. Also, good luck. It's very hard not to scorch the bottom layer of rice. Furthermore, the steam often pulls off bean skins and rice hulls, lifting them straight up into the vent that you're supposed to use to release the steam. This screws with the pressure regulation and makes the process less predictable.

How to cook it:

5) Thus, after some advice from a NASA PhD acquaintance of mine*** and some experimentation on my own, I developed my own method. Put the rice concoction and concomitant water into a metal or ceramic bowl with tight-fitting lid. Put the lidded bowl (yes, the whole thing, not just the contents) on a steamer tray. Set the steamer tray inside a pressure-cooker with about an inch of water - just enough to get close to the steamer tray.

6) Boil for 15 or 20 or 25 minutes, depending on how much rice and what kinds. Turn off the heat and wait 5 or 10 more minutes. The temperature will drop and the pressure will decrease, so that when you finally knock the valve open,

Benefits of aforeimparted method:

- Because the transfer of heat from fire to rice is so mediated, there's no chance of burning anything. The method is therefore anticarcinogenic.

- Thus, no need for stirring or pacing. You can go watch a 20-minute TED talk while the rice is on. Worry about the state of the world, not about the state of your grub.

- No burning means no soaking scrubbing and scraping and scratching of pots.

- Also, the mediated heat transfer reduces the havoc of flying bean and rice skins. Plus, everything that does go a-flying is stopped by the lid of the cooking bowl, which, lacking slats and vents and all, is much easier to clean than the lid of the prsesure cooker.

- Because you're using a pressure cooker, it's quick. I suppose this saves on gas, too.

- And perhaps my favorite part: when you transfer the rice from the cooking bowl to your serving bowls, there may be a little bit of scuzz left over. If you wait to clean it, it may dry on and become a slight nuisance. HOWEVER, why don't you just pour the remaining, nearly-scalding-hot water from the bottom of the pressure cooker into the cooking bowl?! It will melt away the scuzz and cool off by the time you're ready to do the dishes. This is really great because you don't need to use as much new water to rinse the dishes, nor do you have to throw away all that precious gas-turned-heat energy that's stored in the water. THREE CHEERS FOR THE EFFICIENT USE OF RESOURCES.

Results:

_____________________________________
*I think I was naturally good at this, though. Korea can't take all the credit.
**There may be (OK, there most certainly are) other contributing psychological issues as well. I know all about 'em, believe you me.
*** AKA Jeffrey A. "If there's anyone in the world who can subsist on only rice cakes and cheddar cheese spread, it's probably this guy" Hinkley.