Ocean World: Because, Sixty Minutes from the Beach, You Need a Wave Pool

But really, you do.

The beach is dirty, far away, scant on food, and cold.

The theme-park has beer about every fifty meters, a way-cool slide (actually, several), and best of all ... gratuitous Egyptian themeism everywhere you look!

"Whoa." (Keanu Reeves, The Matrix. Totally.)

When we arrived, I could not believe my eyes. I was about to spend my Saturday at one of those cheesy theme parks that I openly mock. Not only that, I had paid near $50 to get in and put another $50 more down in "Ocean World Coin" to buy things on the inside.

This is where being a cynical American is proven wrong, but I'll get to that later.

We took off our shoes just past the entrance and put them in shoe lockers. We were given rubber adjustable wrist-bands that looked like watches to wave by and open our lockers, and we were given UPC-like scannable wrist bands with our dear "Ocean World Coin." We undressed and locked up separately, and met at the threshold of a world of concrete, cash, and current.

Park, showing no signs of slowing down since the ATV excursion, led us at high foot-speed (on wet concrete) to a variety of locales before she sadly informed us (Caroline and I) that there were no beach chairs to be had (rented) and we would have to lie on the shaded concrete. We spread out our Snoopy, Hello Kitty, and sadly blank towels, put on our life jackets (required), and headed for the wave pool.

Before, I had been to wave pools. And the ocean.

This was bigger than wave pools, and, usually, the ocean.

This was less salty than the ocean.

This was more crowded than most subways.

But once I got used to bumping into someone wherever I turned, it was fun.

We swam, hand in hand, for the birthplace of the waves, near the wall, the speakers playing "dun-DUNNNH" (a minor third, I think) every time a wave was to come and the dog-headed god. Past the many fake stone cobras and palm trees we went, ignoring signs of "podu cotu" (food court) and the beach cabanas that destroyed the theme! We were swept up in waves bigger than us, catapulted into strangers as if in a mosh pit, and emerged, nasally clorinated, in time to laugh, rinse (okay maybe not rinse), and repeat.

Then it was snack time. The stands at Ocean World have the usual hot-dog fare, the usual (Korean) ddukbokki fair, and ... churros. Yes, churros. I don't know if I can call it "Konglish" as it is "Kospish" (or Spanglean?) but there were churros. Coincidentally, "cheoreoseu" is also singular, as the Koreans opted to adapt the plural, rather than the single "churro." Funny, considering that the "churros" were sold in packs of ... one. But we had beer (about $3 a pop domestic, $6 for heineken, not bad for a theme park) and churros and went to experience what every theme park promises:

Lines.

Long f*ing lines.

We took our full beer cans to the line for the tube slide, which was over 90 minutes long. Along the way we watched people try to tactfully remove wedgies as they exited a high-speed slide, and we watched luge-like races on a hill.

It was a long 90 minutes, no doubt, and I had to pee by the top.

And then they put us in an inner tube with handles, two or three stories up, and pushed us down a curvy-bumpy slide.

And it was so totally worth it. Why did I skip Oceans of Fun when I was a child living near Kansas City? How could I doubt that those lines were for majestic pleasures? How wrong could I have been?

But I was.

Anyhoo, we had lunch, and a dip in the hot tub, and then got in line for the BIG slide. The 200 minute line. Two snack-bar trips and restroom trips later (done tag-team in line, of course), and we were sitting with a huge crowd, moving slowly toward an amorphous destination of adrenaline, looking at the 30 minute mark.

Then we got our two-person raft.

Looking at a five-story slide is one thing. Preparing to go down it, as you look out on the tiny people, is another. My companion is plagued with vertigo, and I merely anxiety, so I had to go first. I had the front seat to face the drop that we would be forced down to begin our ride.

Our Korean lifeguards were very polite, making sure we were in proper position and ready before we went. And then we went ... every up-swing, we caught air. We nearly turned around, but the (well-designed) corners narrowed and straightened us out. A few minutes (maybe twenty seconds?) later we were at the bottom.

Seven p.m., time to leave. Sorry for making you wait three hours, Park, but we did too. And coming here was your idea.

There were numerous other notables, too. Coin lockers? No, those are "self-control boxes," which, at about 10 cents, you should get several of. Nevermind they're right next to the smoking area. (Cough, irony, cough, pun, cough, hack, wheeze, done.) Stage shows? We've got 'em, nearly all day, in some of the "most interesting" costumes you'll ever see. http://www.flickr.com/photos/badukkong/sets/72157621992467965/ doesn't do justice; there were flamingo-like rags and puffy balls fit for Vegas glam and burlesque ... indescribable.

But the best part? Ocean World coin is refundable. They scan your bracelet on the way out and give you your money back. It's just an easier way of paying, not a way of predating on your laziness.

And that, my friends, is Korean hospitality. In a theme park. About water. And Egyptians. In the wooded forest.

Enjoy.

***Do check out the video at http://www.flickr.com/photos/badukkong/sets/72157621992467965/. Audio's bad but you'll get the idea. Photos, too.

[Photo: Entrance with models/dancers. Russian, we think, by overhearing.]

Herb Country ... Because You Need a Theme-Park Tourist Trap ... for Herbs

Mmm hmm.

Well it was fun. Well, not so much fun as tasty. But it was tasty.

Herb Nara (Herb Country) is, as the title implies, a themed-up K-tourist-trap somewhere in the depths of Gangwon-do. How I got there remains a mystery, as I was merely a passenger, but I don't remember the drive taking too long from the ATV place by P'yongchang.

There were herbs.

Lots of herbs.

Herb jam, herb tea, herb bread.

All pleasing to the palate. So much so that I took some home despite the exorbitant prices. (Okay, not that exorbitant for organic produce in Korea, but still.)

And then there were more herbs.

And some stupid photo-ops.

Enjoy

Four Wheeling With A Trainer Can Be Scary

Credit my laziness and a touch of business, I didn't manage to get this update in last weekend when it happened. (Last weekend--both a potato festival and four wheeling? I must be mad!) But anyway, here's the scoop:

Four-wheeling (ATV riding) near P'yongchang (still in Gangwon-do, Korea's most rural province, but near Seoul). Great fun. For about $25 per person we got a brief introductory lesson and an hour of guided on- and off- road adventure. The trail started paved and straight, and gradually got more difficult as we progressed. There were beautiful views to be had off the side of the mountain, but they were not as captivating as the task of staying on the path (and thus on the mountain), and so my memory is fuzzy and pictures are not to be had.

A couple in our group wanted to go quite slow, so we did, but eventually, when we were about to turn around, the group split. My Korean friend, Park Gun-yeong, who is a bit of an adventure nut and trainer, basically demanded that we go further, and faster, and then come back to get the rest. Before I knew it (I just reacted to "Darren, come on"), we were going full throttle.

At first, I was glad. It's easier to go fast--you have momentum and not every rut in the trail is a major obstacle. But it's not easier to turn fast, and when you're on a path about twice as wide as your ATV with one side being a guardrail-free drop down a mountain, you really don't want to skid out. Or at least I didn't want to. Park, on the other hand, was no longer to be seen.

Eventually I caught up with her and the disenfranchised guide who did not understand why I had parted ways with the pokees, and we headed back down. Next stop: Herb Nara

Jjimjilbang (traditional Korean spa)

"Let's go into a dark hot cave, and sit until it's uncomfortable."

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea. I'll bring snacks."

"Jjim" as a syllable is also used in "jjim hada," "to smother." "Jil" can mean "the act of doing." ("Jjimjil" also means "compress," as in, "We put a cold 'compress' on his sprained ankle.") "Bang" is used to mean room in many contexts, such as the ubiquitous PC Bangs or PC rooms where many a Korean teenager (or young adult) avoids sunshine and masterfully plays away the day in a Starcraft, WoW, or Batoo-induced haze.

So, as some of you knew, and some have guessed, Jjimjilbang are spas.

Modernly, men and women have separate rooms where they, au natural, enjoy the hot steam, typically after a massage. For rather cheap one can sleep the night in a bunkbed (or so I've read, I haven't been).

Traditional Jjimjilbang, like the one I had the pleasure of visiting last night, are quite different. Stone and mud caves are sealed with wood burning in them. Once the cave is hot enough, the entrance is broken open. Over the course of the next four days the "room" is gradually downgraded from "very hot" to "low heat" as it naturally cools. A wooden platform is placed on the floor allowing you to sit comfortably (well ... more comfortably) and sometimes people will also sit atop blankets to keep their "eongdongi" (buttocks) from becoming too uncomfortable as they pour sweat out of themselves.

Men and women both wear a sort of light terrycloth outfit and share whatever room suits their momentary fancy. Outside the rooms, there are small wooden seating areas where you can lie down and cool off in the open air, and have snacks and beverages as you wish.

At the jjimjilbang I went to last night, there were four rooms (one "very hot," one "hot," one "medium heat," and one "low heat") and a new room (presumably "OH MY THAT'S HOT") being broken into.

"Very hot" means VERY HOT. And scary. A blanket covers the entrance to the cave to keep the heat in, so you are basically blindly stumbling into smoldering heat. The floor is so hot that your buttocks (or at least mine) become uncomfortable even if you are in a swimsuit covered by a jjimjilbok (I'm guessing that's what they call the outfit as "bok" means outfit) and put a blanket down. A "very hot" traditional jjimjilbang would be a great way of disabusing any knight of the notion that he should enter the dragon's cave and attempt to slay it.

"Hot," on the other hand. is bearable and rather enjoyable, if for a short time.

Most people I saw, including myself and those in my group, stayed in the "medium" room, which is hot enough to leave you pouring in sweat but mild enough that you can sit and wait for the sweat to pour, like a "just-right" jacuzzi.

The five of us--myself, Caroline, Park Geun-Yeong (our workout instructor and one of the kindest people I know), her friend and her friend's daughter spent several hours cave-hopping. We'd generally sit in the medium cave, drip in sweat (us westerners more then the Koreans), then have a snack or two, try the "very hot," realize it was a bad idea, and go back to the medium cave.

The uncomfortable heat gives a sense of euphoria and cleanliness, and creates and instant bond between you and whomever you're with. I feel as though my friendship with Park was greatly accelerated by the jjimjilbang, and the usual awkwardness of a new introduction faded between myself and the two other women rather quickly. We also had brief chats with a group from Suwon (outside of Seoul) who joined us in the medium room and then we saw waiting outside a cave as the entry was broken open. (Good luck to them.)

We left in a heat-induced stupor and slept well (admittedly after a bit more wine at Park's house).

Pictures will follow.

(Picture: Left to right: Me, Caroline, Park Geun Yeong)