felloutofthenest

A topnotch WordPress.com site

Tag: yangju

RE: Visiting The Doghouse & Island Hopping

10 points to anyone who gets the RE: pun.

From left: Aaron (mid-grunt), Lori, Hailey & Meg

So, consistency isn’t going to be the word of the year. As a wholly self-motivated project, this blog will suffer greatly at the hands of procrastination and distraction until somebody pays me for it and, as I have yet to wake up as Stephen Fry, I suspect this is a vain hope.

By golly, winter comes with gusto in Namyangju. While we’ve yet to see any snow per se, I have had my inaugural public appearance in the RAF coat this week, and am now the proud owner of yet another pair of murderer’s leather gloves. Until I see Winter with a capital W (ie. with more white stuff blocking the way anywhere), I remain under the conviction that I am meteorologically cursed to never see snow, regardless of my location. For the time being, nadger-shrinking temperatures will suffice.

The Koreans gave us a wide berth.

Last weekend (he said, realising the heinous delay in his autobiographing) was a cultural and environmental Experience in many ways, both Korean and American; along with fellow foreigners Lori, Hailey and Aaron, we embarked on an adventure to Namiseom (Nami Island), an inland island of spectacular autumnal foliage and antisocial ostriches. More on that later.

Firstly, a revelation: when you’re on the other side of Those Loud Bloody Americans, ie. in their company, it’s actually very, very fun. That is to say, it’s fun to act like a twat with absolutely no social inhibitions. Aaron, stationed in a US Air Force base on the North/South Korea DMZ line, is a veritable artist of explosive noises, and both Meg and I found ourselves grunting along with Aaron and the girls before we’d reached Nami’s shore. The ferry took approximately five minutes.

Lori WAS going to eat that chestnut.

Nami is a paradise arboretum and cultural heritage and, as such, is clogged with the inescapable crowd found anywhere in the country. Of particular interest were the ostrich pens, whereupon one could watch well-meaning individuals trying to feed them skittles and crisp wrappers. The birds, it appeared, were keener on savaging any reachable leather items.

Aaron helped me when in need.

I can’t explain this statue, and won’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love the Korean Beatles.

Regardless of the disgusting amount of soju imbibed that evening, we kept our promise for the following day by returning to the Yangju dog shelter, despite the perpetual rain throughout the day. Major karma points, we felt. The main result of the Sunday? We now have up to three dogs we want to foster.

Happy the Parkour Dog greets us with enthusiasm

This week has brought little in the way of experiences, other than I’ve sent my beloved camera off to the shop for a spring clean (the rubber is all but gone from the grips, and I needed some lens focus tweaking); as a result, I am bereft of imagination and inconsolable at best. Cactus juice helps.

Advertisements

Living & Leaving Sheltered Lives

When moving to another culture, a foreigner’s first impulse is to nest in his or her habitat; that is to say, one surrounds themselves with as many familiar things as possible. While the point of the experience is to experience something unfamiliar and exotic, there are days where you just want to slob around and watch The Lion King without requiring English subtitles.

For both of us, ‘familiar’ consists of the following: tomato soup (exists here but very rare), marmite (even if we found someone who’d heard of it, it’s nowhere to be found) and the presence of a dog on a day-to-day basis. We know that our situation prevents us from actually owning a pet with any kind of permanence, but have nonetheless found ourselves in contact with a local(ish) canine shelter on our days off.

Two of our closest friends in England are in the volunteer business of fostering dogs from shelters in their area, in order to find loving families for them elsewhere. To clarify:

Adoption = have a pet to own forever and ever, not just for Christmas etc.

Fostering = relieve a potentially overstocked animal shelter of adoptable dogs, cats etc. with the intention of independently finding homes for them.

You wouldn’t think he actually loved being picked up, would you?

Fostering is not so much a ‘responsibility-free’ adoption scheme (unless you’re a particularly lazy/awful human being) as a rewarding process of integrating unloved and/or potentially traumatised pets back into a ‘home’ environment. After being informed of the predominance of ‘Kill Shelters’ (the dogs have 20 days to be adopted before being euthanized, regardless of health or age), there was no way we couldn’t try to help.

After getting massively lost and flustered, we found our way to the Yangju Animal Shelter a little way north of Namyangju (our hometown, for the amnesiacs/English-speakers out there). In contrast to previous rants regarding my intolerance of the crowds thus far, we met nothing but wonderful people on our journey (with the exception of an especially intolerable girl who decided that shoving me into an elderly dear getting on the train was highly preferable to waiting 1.5 seconds); such wonderful people including a petrol-station attendant who took time off his shift to call a taxi for us when we got off the bus too early, and an employee of the Yangju Culture Centre who actually drove us down the road himself.

He seemed to like me. I now love him.

A kilometre or so down the road, there was no confusion as to where the animal shelter was; the open fields of the countryside seemed to carry the enthusiastic barking and yapping of over two hundred dogs. We immediately met up with Ula, our English-speaking contact and volunteer at the sanctuary, and the tour began.

Angel, another cyclops pup, also adorable beyond measure.

Firstly, despite the unbelievable efforts of the staff and volunteers there, it is a sadly underfunded and overstocked shelter; it spans roughly two acres, divided between the main house (for smaller dogs, eg. puppies and ‘toy dogs’ who would suffer from actual exposure to any kind of elements) and two separate areas for larger canines. Each pen usually holds two or three dogs chosen for their ability to get along, often consisting of one terrified animal and one ‘protector’ who seems to address the humans while the other hides in their kennel.

Within moments, our trousers were stained and paw-printed with enthusiastic greetings by the dogs – every time we left one pen, the neighbouring dogs went berserk with optimism because it was their turn with the humans oh boy oh boy. We met some familiar faces from the website, including adorable yet sad-eyed Lennon, Kang (one of the many apparently obliviously cycloptic dogs we met) and Floyd – who we will admit we do have our hearts set on, provided we are deemed suitable temporary owners.

Ball ball ball ball ball ball ball

Although requiring extensive paperwork and permits by the sanctuary board, it’s encouraging that they’re so particular with the prospective owners of their dogs. It would be far more convenient for them to throw care and caution to the wind – the shelter grows exponentially, as it takes in far more dogs than it gives away to families – but they actually care about the animals, a trait not necessarily consistent with many such facilities in the country. The ‘Kill Shelters’ have a death row of 20 days, whereas the Yangju Shelter has five-year-old dogs who were born there.

The toy dogs unite forces against Meg.

It looks sad, but Lennon just wanted a go with the humans.

Although we can’t spare much time to volunteer – the journey alone will prevent us from going up on a hugely regular basis – Meg and I are set on helping publicise and foster the dogs there. Expect considerable gushing over ad-aaaawable dogs over the next year or so.

Apologies for the unusual seriousness of this particular blog, not to mention the length. If it provides any remote comic relief, we properly stank of poo the entire journey home.