The ferry between Jeju Island and Wando cannot be booked less than 24 hours in advance. This, at least, is what I learnt when I presented myself at the ticket desk at the ferry terminal in Jeju-si and asked to buy a ticket.
It was fully booked, I was told. There was nothing that could be done. I asked whether I could take a ferry to nearby Mokpo as an alternative option. "Go to office 103" was the curt response from the young girl at the desk. Office 103 was closed. When I walked back to the ticket desk, it had also closed.
I returned to the market area of Dongmun in Jeju-si's downtown area and went into the market to buy some bananas. The elderly lady (or ajumma in local parlance) looked at me and then ignored me as I stood by the fruit. I decided to go straight to the bus terminal instead. This required taking a city bus across town first. I was the only person at the bus stop. The bus came around the corner, the driver spotted me, the bus drove straight past. I went back to the market, to a different fruit stall, where I was again ignored while some Korean customers were offered free samples of the fruit.
Korean culture has deep roots in Confucianism, a doctrine more than it is a religion, which sets out appropriate relationships in society. Whether between children and parents, brothers and sisters, masters and pupils, or employees and bosses, every one has a prescribed place in the hierarchy that must be respected. This comes naturally to those brought up in the culture - everyone knows, for example, who to bow to, when to bow and how low to bow.
Confucianism does not only have a bearing on everyday manners though. The amount of respect to be shown to strangers is also a key aspect. If you want to better yourself, you'd better treat your betters in the right way, so that you can one day move up a step in the hierarchy too.
This hierarchy is something that foreigners do not figure anywhere on, and when Confucianism is interpreted in a conservative manner it can lead to the brusque treatment I was able to observe one day on Jeju Island - otherwise known for its holiday atmosphere, sandy beaches, unique geology and, not least, friendly people.
I had spent my first day on Jeju on a rented bicycle, covering 40 kilometres along the north coast, black rock coastline and harbours on one side, misty hills leading towards the 1,950-metre peak of Jeju's dormant volcano Hallasan on the other. On the roadside, reeds and fish dried out in the sun. I arrived at a beach, where a young girl said "welcome" and asked where I was from as I chained up the bicycle. Being the rude foreigner I am, I didn't respond, not realising what she had said until it was too late.
I dived into the sea to wash off the sweat and dirt from the bike ride. As I did, it began to rain, which was wonderfully reminiscent of many a childhood family holiday in southwestern England. There was an unexpected sense of familiarity as I cycled back into town along a dual carriageway while evening traffic eased past in the refreshing drizzle.
After my second snub at the fruit market at Dongmun, I skulked, exasperated, back to my hostel, where the helpful receptionist knew my plans and was able to book my ferry ticket online. There was availability for tomorrow after all.
It was fully booked, I was told. There was nothing that could be done. I asked whether I could take a ferry to nearby Mokpo as an alternative option. "Go to office 103" was the curt response from the young girl at the desk. Office 103 was closed. When I walked back to the ticket desk, it had also closed.
I returned to the market area of Dongmun in Jeju-si's downtown area and went into the market to buy some bananas. The elderly lady (or ajumma in local parlance) looked at me and then ignored me as I stood by the fruit. I decided to go straight to the bus terminal instead. This required taking a city bus across town first. I was the only person at the bus stop. The bus came around the corner, the driver spotted me, the bus drove straight past. I went back to the market, to a different fruit stall, where I was again ignored while some Korean customers were offered free samples of the fruit.
Korean culture has deep roots in Confucianism, a doctrine more than it is a religion, which sets out appropriate relationships in society. Whether between children and parents, brothers and sisters, masters and pupils, or employees and bosses, every one has a prescribed place in the hierarchy that must be respected. This comes naturally to those brought up in the culture - everyone knows, for example, who to bow to, when to bow and how low to bow.
Confucianism does not only have a bearing on everyday manners though. The amount of respect to be shown to strangers is also a key aspect. If you want to better yourself, you'd better treat your betters in the right way, so that you can one day move up a step in the hierarchy too.
This hierarchy is something that foreigners do not figure anywhere on, and when Confucianism is interpreted in a conservative manner it can lead to the brusque treatment I was able to observe one day on Jeju Island - otherwise known for its holiday atmosphere, sandy beaches, unique geology and, not least, friendly people.
I had spent my first day on Jeju on a rented bicycle, covering 40 kilometres along the north coast, black rock coastline and harbours on one side, misty hills leading towards the 1,950-metre peak of Jeju's dormant volcano Hallasan on the other. On the roadside, reeds and fish dried out in the sun. I arrived at a beach, where a young girl said "welcome" and asked where I was from as I chained up the bicycle. Being the rude foreigner I am, I didn't respond, not realising what she had said until it was too late.
I dived into the sea to wash off the sweat and dirt from the bike ride. As I did, it began to rain, which was wonderfully reminiscent of many a childhood family holiday in southwestern England. There was an unexpected sense of familiarity as I cycled back into town along a dual carriageway while evening traffic eased past in the refreshing drizzle.
After my second snub at the fruit market at Dongmun, I skulked, exasperated, back to my hostel, where the helpful receptionist knew my plans and was able to book my ferry ticket online. There was availability for tomorrow after all.
