The History of Making and Eating Kimchi in South Korea

by Lindsay Shapka in ,

It was fall in South Korea, which meant kimchi-making time, and for a full week, I walked by a group of focused women, perched on small red stools in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling apart and washing hundreds of bright green heads of cabbage.

They wore long powder blue plastic gloves and were surrounded by large, chocolate brown, glazed clay pots that would hold the finished kimchi until it fermented and was ready to eat.

The concrete sidewalk under them was soaked with water running from a nearby hose and they wore plastic slippers and rolled up pant legs to keep from getting wet.

Their bodies were covered in shapeless rubber aprons and their hair was pulled back and tucked under handkerchiefs. Serious and focused, they worked non-stop, oblivious to the world around them.

If Norman Rockwell had done a South Korean version of ‘fall’, I am sure that they would be it.

If I asked any of the people that I met in South Korea what their favorite breakfast food was, they would answer, “Kimchi!”. The same question regarding lunch and dinner would garner the same response. 

What is Kimchi?

South Koreans learned a long time ago that vegetables were easier to grow, and less of a strain on dwindling resources, than filling their land with domesticated animals. Until recently, the majority of South Koreans ate like vegetarians, getting all of their nutrition from the way they prepared their vegetables, tofu, rice and soup.

Kimchi has few calories and low levels of sugar but is extremely high in fiber, vitamins A & C, calcium and iron. The fermentation process also creates high levels of lactic acid bacteria and acetic acid that protect the body against getting cancer, and other germs, and because it is so nutritious, storable, and long-lasting, it became a staple in the country and the basis of the majority of traditional dishes.

The kimchi that is served with almost every meal, and the kind that the women in the street were making, is tonbaechu kimchi, made from Chinese cabbage that is aged and fermented in spicy, red peppers, anywhere from a few hours to years. Though the most common, according to the Korean Food Academy, it is only one of hundreds of different kinds of kimchi, as any vegetable can be preserved using the same process. 

I pity the foreigner who can’t stomach it because if you don’t like kimchi, you don’t like Korean food. It is a part of almost 90% of traditional dishes. 

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​Exploring The Great Mosque in Xi’an, China

by Lindsay Shapka in , ,

The market was a tempting, chaotic maze of hanging lanterns, silk robes, and kitschy Mao paraphernalia. Glimpses of blue sky were visible through gaps between colorful tarps stretched over my head, as I wove through the crowd that was browsing the over-stuffed stalls.

It was taking all of my willpower to stop myself from pausing to get a closer look, but shopping could come later. I had a destination to get to.

The enormous wooden door was only part way open when I finally arrived at the entrance of the Great Mosque. The doorway was protected by a blue tarp, tied overhead, that was shared with a stall selling small copies of religious texts and colorful silk pencil cases.

I handed 12 yuan (approximately $2) to a bored looking woman sitting on a wooden stool (the Mosque is free for Muslims to enter) and stepped through the half-open door into an unexpectedly magical place.

The Great Mosque in Xi’an is one of the largest mosques in China and, from the outside, is disguised to look like a typical Chinese temple.

Other than four palm trees located just inside the entrance, the gardens leading to the temple are decorated with rocks and archways that look typically Chinese. Even the enormous, turquoise roofed prayer hall, located deep inside the complex (and not open to visitors), is designed to look like a large pagoda from the outside, hiding its telltale dome.

The mosque is said to have been founded sometime in the 8th century, and I assume its survival can, in large part, be attributed to this clever disguise.

High, thick stone walls shut out the craziness of the market that I had left behind and I took a deep breath as I started to walk through the garden — it had been too long since I had heard birds and smelled fresh air. 

There were very few people in the large complex and none of them looked like tourists.

It struck me all of a sudden that my status as an "outsider" might be a problem, but none of the men dressed in black robes and white caps seemed to care about my presence. 

This left me free to wander in and out of pagodas, small rooms with latticed doors and under blue tiled archways in quiet seclusion.  

Without warning, my solitude was broken suddenly by chanting being broadcasted loudly through a hidden speaker. Curiosity drew me towards the source of the hypnotic sound, and I soon found myself at the entrance of the Great Mosque itself.

A row of square doorways across the front of it — with shoes neatly lined up outside — were open to the garden.

I didn’t dare get too close but peeking into one of the dark doors from a distance, I could see a cavernous room filled with men kneeling on an elaborately tiled floor. Their white-capped heads were lowered towards a figure, who had his back to me, at the far end of the room. I sat beside one of the doors, alone and out of sight, to listen to the chanting echoing inside the hidden dome.

Not wanting to get in the way I left the mosque before the chanting stopped.

I meandered back under the blue archways, past the four palm trees and finally, with one last deep breath of fresh air, stepped through the half-open door and back into the chaos of China.

Planning your visit

Open: Daily 8:00 am to 7:00 pm

Admission: March to November: CNY 25 (Approx. $4) December to February: CNY 15 (Approx. $2.50)
* Muslims can enter for free

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The Swastika Was a Symbol of Peace Before it Became Associated With Evil

by Lindsay Shapka in , ,

Even though it was located in the middle of a huge city, behind the stone walls that surrounded the ancient Buddhist complex, all was quiet.

After walking under a red pillared passageway, grey, weathered stone steps led me up to the main temple.

A 3-tiered grey stone pagoda sat in the middle of the dusty square in front of the temple, white pillar candles, and incense burning on a raised platform in front of it. Whoever had lit the flames was nowhere to be seen.

The temple itself, the center of all religious activity, was brown with elaborately painted vines and flowers covering the doors and window frames.

Not wanting to interrupt any ceremonies being performed inside, I sat on its steps carved with stone dragons, listening to the slow, strong chanting coming through the cracks in the huge wooden lattice doors.

It was a beautiful building — the sides were painted with intricate murals showing parts of the Buddha’s life and carved stone lotus flowers embellished the eaves and pillars. Abandoning my spot on the stairs for a closer look at the murals, I was shocked to see a huge swastika, painted in yellow, on the side of the temple.

My shock continued to grow as I walked throughout the rest of the complex and noticed swastikas on other buildings, and on statues of the Buddha as well.

The swastika as a religious symbol

It wasn’t until I got home and had the Internet at my fingertips that I learned that the swastika had been a symbol of Buddhism for thousands of years before the Nazi party of Germany adopted it as their own.

Representing good luck and well-being, the symbol is most commonly used in India but is also found in both the ancient and modern art of Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Celts, Native Americans, Persians, Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists.

In Buddhism, it also represents auspiciousness, the Buddha’s footprints, and the Buddha’s heart. Often used to mark the beginning of Buddhist texts, it is usually only found on buildings in South Korea.

The corruption of the symbol

In the twentieth century, the swastika was corrupted by the Nazi party (much like the Ku Klux Klan did to the Christian Cross, but with a lesser impact).

Despite the fact that the Nazi version of the symbol is drawn at an angle, with the crisscrossing lines running diagonally while the Buddhist version lies flat, most people in the Western World now look at any version of it as a symbol of evil and see nothing more.

Ironic, considering its original representation of peace, life, and joy.

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Hunting Down The Origin of The Triangle Shaped Hat

by Lindsay Shapka in , ,

Have you ever wondered why we associate certain items with certain cultures? Where do these items come from?

Why does a floral lei make us think about Hawaii? Why does a double-decker red bus bring up images of London, and why does a triangle shaped hat make us think of the rice fields of Vietnam?

I couldn’t help but ask these questions while walking down a quiet street in Hoi An, Vietnam while watching a woman, wearing a stereotypical triangle shaped hat, as she pushed her bike, laden with pineapples, slowly down the street. Determined to discover the story behind the hat, I started asking around about its origin.

I didn’t have much luck.

When I asked a man selling these hats on a street corner, he looked at me like I was nuts and told me that he made them, while the women at the front desk of my hotel said that the goddess made them through her people’s hands. I even asked a bartender later that night, but his response was that he would tell me only if I came home with him — I passed.   

Realizing that I was getting nowhere, I decided it was time to do some research of my own.

This is what I’ve discovered. 

The history of the palm-leaf hat

The triangle shaped hat of Vietnam also called the Non la, or palm-leaf conical hat, made its first appearance over 3,000 years ago. Its origin comes from a legend related to the history of growing rice in the country:

There had been non-stop, monsoon rains and the countryside was being washed away when suddenly a giant woman came down from the sky. She wore a hat made of four, huge, round shaped leaves that were stitched together with bamboo sticks to guard her from the rain.

She stood tall, twirled the hat back and forth and dispersed the clouds and rain.

She then taught the people how to grow rice in their rain-soaked fields before disappearing back into the sky. 

The people built a temple to her, The Rain-Shielding Goddess, and tried to mimic her hat by stitching together palm leaves in order to honour her. 

How these traditional hats are made

Today, the conical hat is made out of palm leaves, bamboo, or bark from a Moc tree and was once different shapes depending on a person’s sex and ranking.

Now, it is mostly worn by farmers, boating people or tourists and is mainly made in the standard shape seen in most tourist photos.

In some rural areas like Sapa, north of Hanoi, locals still make high-quality hats with designs and poems sunk into them that are only visible under direct sunlight. 

Why do people wear them? 

Not only great sun protection, these hats can be used as baskets, fans, and are great shields to hide kisses behind.

They are not as easy to find in the big cities anymore, because they can’t be worn on motorcycles, the main mode of transport in the country, but you should have no problem finding hundreds of them for sale at one of the many smaller towns and villages throughout the country — just remember that they are a difficult souvenir to take on a plane!  

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Did You Know That Only Metal Chopsticks Are Used in South Korea?

by Lindsay Shapka in , ,

Imagine being in a foreign country and ordering what you think, from the photo in the menu, is chicken in marinara sauce, only to have a plate of cold, raw octopus tentacles in spicy fish sauce set in front of you.

Because you can’t speak the language, and all eyes are already on you because you are the only foreigner in the room, you have no choice but to attempt a few bites of your exotic dish.

Reaching for your utensils, you register that the chopsticks that you are about to use don’t have the familiar round, wooden feel — like the ones that come with Chinese take-out at home — but are flat, cold, made of metal and seem to slip with every attempt to pick up your food. 

Crap.

Why are chopsticks metal in Korea?

Out of all the Asian countries, only South Korea uses metal rather than wood, bamboo, or plastic as the material for their chopsticks.

This practice started centuries ago in the time of the Joseon Dynasty when one of the Joseon kings, paranoid about an attempt being made on his life, started using chopsticks made of solid silver thinking that the silver would tarnish if there was any poison in his food. His higher officials followed suit and over time, the use of metal filtered down to the rest of the population.

Though difficult to use for those of us familiar with the cheap, wooden take-out version, these stainless steel utensils are not only easier to clean than their wooden counterparts but are reusable and so better for the environment.

They do take a while to get the hang of, however.

My first attempt, involving red saucy tentacles, resulted in a large red stain in the middle of my lap that matched the color of my (embarrassed) face.  

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Why You Should Never Give Money to Children When Travelling In Developing Countries

by Lindsay Shapka in , , ,

When traveling outside of the developed world, whether you are pulling a Louis V. suitcase behind you or carrying an overstuffed pack on your back, you will most likely have more money in your pocket than what the average person in the country you are visiting will make in a year. 

Because of this, you will likely spend the majority of your trip looking into the big, innocent eyes of precious children with dirty cheeks, bare feet, and empty palms stretched out towards you.

It will be very easy to reach into your pocket and pull out a few coins to drop into their palms, an amount that is really pennies to you in the grand scheme of things. By doing this, however, you are not helping them, but condemning these children to a life of dependence and poverty. 

Why you shouldn't give money to children 

In most of the countries where you see kids begging in the street, there are few government social programs or education regulations in place to ensure that children and their families are being properly taken care of.

To supplement this, NGOs (Non-Government Organizations) have set up shop to offer schooling and housing free of charge.

You would think that parents would jump at the chance to have their children receive an education from these NGOs but this is often not the case.

Because they pull at the heartstrings and open the wallets of tourists, children make more money begging than their parents make at legitimate jobs. Even though sending their children to school is free, to many parents (who are, sadly, usually uneducated themselves) the lure of quick cash is more enticing.

Begging is a big industry, and kids are the victims of it

Begging has become a big industry and there are men and women who scour the countryside, looking for young, cute kids to come work for them as beggars in the city. They take these children from their families, promising to send back money that the child earns. They essentially act as their ‘pimp’. 

What this means is that the money you put in a child’s outstretched hand is usually going to the adult that is standing off in the shadows nearby and only a fraction of it will go towards the child and his or her family. 

What can you do?

The best way to avoid perpetuating this cycle of poverty is to say no to that outstretched hand and instead donate directly to one of the hundreds of NGOs.

If you just can’t bear to walk away from the tear-stained cheeks looking up at you, try giving them something of no value that cannot be taken away from them.

I carry balloons to give to the little boys and bobby pins to give to the girls. Both cost next to nothing, take up little space in a bag and (in my experience) make the child you give them to smile more than a dollar would.

After all, they are just kids.

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