I got my first haircut in Seoul last weekend (just a cut, I'll have to save the man-perm for next year), and I got it at a jjimjilbang. I've mentioned these before, and perhaps I'll do a jjimjilbang exposé someday, but for now just think "Korean sauna".

We went back to Spa Land, the jjimjilbang inside the World Cup Stadium. In addition to a jacuzzi that is scented (flavoured?) tropical fruit one day, cherry the next, Spa Land also has a barber shop. I got my trim for 10,000KW.

No shoes, no shirt? No problem. The barbershop is in the men's only section. One can get a hair cut naked. The barber is clothed though. I wasn't sure at first and kept my jjimjilbang outfit on this time around, but when I saw a Korean business man settle his bare behind into the towel-covered chair next to me, I resolved to live as freely as he in the future. Can you picture me getting a perm naked? You're welcome.

The back of the head is an important aspect of a 'do. Yes, one wants to impress from the front, but it's equally important to be sexy from the back. You never know who will be staring at the back of your head. We're all familiar with hairdressers taking a mirror and swivelling it around behind your head so you can catch a glimpse. No such primitive rituals here -- a camera is dedicated to every seat, and perfectly aimed over the barber's shoulder to broadcast the progress. Is he butchering your mullet? Ruining your rat-tail? Bungling your fade? Just watch the TV in front of you. I wonder if I can get it burned on DVD.

My barber worked with sure hands, moving fast. In the final lap, he took a powder puff and deftly coated the lower perimeter of my hair with a single stroke. I felt like a French pastry. He then took scissors and worked his way around my head, evening out imperfections magically revealed by the powder. Finally, he smeared cold shaving-cream around the edges and cleaned them up with a straight-razor. Finito!

I look more Korean now.

My Korean is coming along very slowly.

The other day I spent almost an hour deciphering the entries on a menu I took a picture of. This consists of painstakingly entering the Korean characters into a free online translator, which is mostly trial and error as I don't fully remember the keyboard layout yet (it's roughly vowels on the right, and consonants on the left).

After finally assembling the name of an item and hitting the "translate" button, I am given phrases like: macro kim bap (kim bap are rice and seaweed rolls, not unlike sushi. Maybe macro means big?), nude kim bap (maybe nude means plain?), and sixth chapter (huh?).

Only sometimes do I get a result that I can trust is accurate (Unglazed earthenware bowl thin sliced barbecued beef).

Maybe I'll put together a Korean food dictionary. (Oh, found one).

Here's a tip for travelling: if you're only allowed in Korea for 180 days, don't book your return flight for longer than 180 days. I knew this, but I did not do this. Luckily, the nice folk at the travel agency set it right with amazing Korean efficiency while I panicked at the check-in counter.

Yes, I am here now. Jetlagged and blogging at 7AM. Hello Korea! Nice to finally meet you.