Foreigner Foodies - Day 4: Ganwon-do-deo!

I feared that on the morning of day 4, after the first night I had spent away with the film crew, there would be some attempt at rushing us into getting up and started with the day. I was relieved to find that we were allowed to wake under our own power, and were gently reminded of breakfast. Breakfast was nice and relaxed, as everyone woke up into the new day.

And what a day it was...

         Our only filming for the morning was a brief scene wherein we said goodbye to our friendly hosts (now outfitted in their own white hoodies), and we took a group picture under Leigh’s direction.

The foodies

Foodies plus crew

         It had been a slow morning, and it continued similarly as we rode the bus for 2 hours to our next destination which, we were informed, would be a famous 감자 (potato) restaurant. We filmed another rear-seat discussion of our destination and opinions, and then got some footage of us looking at the pretty scenery rolling past. That done, we separated along the bus to relax and look at the pretty scenery rolling past.

         It really was beautiful as we wound down sinuous roads bounded by snow-clad hills and tiny villages sprouting therefrom.

         Before the restaurant we stopped over at another of Gangwon-do’s famous tourist attractions – a meeting of two rivers, where locals build a bridge out of fresh pine every year, and a professionally-built metal foot bridge is adorned by an immense grey-steel crescent. The bridge seemed but a hammer away from a communist symbol, or a star away from being an Islamic one.

It's pretty though, right?

It looks one snapped cable away from rolling rightward and scything someone's house in two.

We were filmed making cairns and walking across the bridge (overactingly), but to a large degree the cast and crew alike seemed content to just take in the scenery. There was very little pressure or direction, and the setting was truly beautiful. Something about the quality of the air, I think, leant the whole panorama a very stark quality. This may have been a result of the temperature” One of the crew read the temperature at -15C. Wind chill was also brutal, and removing gloves so as to take pictures proved painful.

My and my cairn. With Nobuko!

Fleeing the ice dragon about to emerge from that portal in the ice.

Did I post a picture of our bus? We had a special bus with out own banner sticky-taped to the side of it!

We were glad to reboard the bus, especially as a number of Korean tour busses pulled in, threatening to swamp the popular site with scores of curious onlookers. It turned out we had been lucky to find it so empty, even with such inhospitable weather.

Time was running on, however, and I was eager to be home. This being Christmas Day, I had hoped to be home at the latest in the early evening so as to Skype home, unwrap presents, and chat with different people around the world. Yet the day rolled on, and that started to become more and more unlikely. Among the foreigners there was a slight undercurrent of tension, a barely perceptible frustration with the slow pace of the filming.

This became especially apparent when we finally arrived at what was originally intended as our luncheon spot, the potato restaurant. It was never explained why we sat in the bus outside the restaurant for so long, although after some time the camera crew did set up and film our final interviews early.

As the day darkened we were finally filming the approach to restaurant, and our reception and greeting.

The woman running the place was superbly friendly and, as if to make up for earlier delays, everything started to pick up the pace. The food was filmed quickly and it wasn’t long before we were sitting down to eat. A genuine piece of humour arose during the meal when we started to jokingly say 감자합니다 instead of 감사합니다.

         The meal itself was, well, very potato heavy. My favourite was definitely the 감자전 (potato pancake), with which I was already pleasantly familiar. Other than that there was a dish that looked and tasted a lot like 떡 (rice cakes), though it was made with potato starch rather than rice, and stuffed with sweet potato (or sugared potato – it was sweet and potato, anyway) rather than red bean or sweetened rice. The third potato dish was best described by Leigh (I think) as being the second dish, only exploded. In their interviews others leapt to defend it as being like mashed potato – I thought it was more like potato salad, but not as tasty as either.

         The producer was far quicker than usual to call a wrap, and the cast was quickly seated around another table having a dinner of their own (with far fewer potato dishes). It wasn’t long before we were saying our goodbyes, looking at our hosts remarkable rock collection, saying goodbye again, grabbing coffee, climbing onto the bus and then heading back to Seoul. We made a brief stop to drop Leigh at a local bus station, as he lived nearby, but finally were on the long, long, four-hour road to Seoul. Before leaving Leigh had revealed that he wouldn’t be joining us for the final two days shooting, on account of heading back to Canada for a delayed Christmas, and the producer revealed that on Tuesday morning we should arrive at the production offices by 3am.

         By the time I got home it was past 10:30, I was physically exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, and still had hours of Christmas Day Skypeing to do before teaching the next day. I was far too tired to recognize it, but I was dreading having to return to the filming in 29 hours. 

Foreigner Foodies - Day 3: Gangwon-do!

It’s 3:30AM, and I’m in a taxi riding to the offices of a media production company in Dongsan-gu. I have with me an overnight bag, computer, electronic accessories and a sense of mild unease. During the week I received a string of texts, emails, and phone calls from Ginny, our translator on the show. At first these were to resolve questions of translation but then, as those started to become more frequent, a phone call on Friday to say that the producer wanted us to speak more Korean, and so would I mind doing some studying for the show? This was followed by a text asking us to meet at 3:30 in the morning, and to bring anything we needed to sing a song from our country.

         These developments significantly dented my enthusiasm for the experience of travelling and appreciating Korean food, but I filed them away under my prior resolution not to be concerned, and simply to act as I felt comfortable. Under which mandate I decided that I would under no circumstances be induced to sing on camera for a potential audience of 50 million. I have my Korean books in the front pocket of my bag for reference, but there has not been time in the last 10 hours to do any studying.

         A light snowfall had slicked the streets during my brief sleep, making walking the pavement treacherous, and taxis scarce. As a result of which I arrived slightly late to the production office, but was warmly welcomed, and given my new team hoodie, that we would all wear for the rest of the weekend. Presumably these hoodies – in a crisp, stainable white – had either been a weekday innovation on the part of the production team, or else had simply not been available the previous weekend. Either way, I suspect our uniformity of dress will promote a very Korean-style team unity, which may actually be successful in drawing from us the kind of overblown drama the producer is always encouraging. Never mind, they’re warm.

Eating eggs at the back of the bus.

         After briefly filming us “arriving” and getting onto the bus, we spent 30 minutes conversing at the back of the bus, stretching our Korean as far as possible. On my part at least, and I suspect on several others, there was a lot of nodding and laughing at comments and jokes we didn’t fully understand. Nobuko led the discussion as by far the most proficient Korean speaker among us. Personally I used Korean when I could, but didn’t feel at all bad about supplementing it with English. As I would later remark, I’m nervous enough about elocuting in English on national television, my Korean is nowhere near broadcastable. I worried slightly about how our (my) Korea mistakes would be represented on television. This tied into the general concern I had about the tension between sincerity and entertainment that arose the previous weekend.

         We managed to get an hour or so of uncomfortable sleep before arriving at our first destination for the day: Pyeongchang in Gangwon-do.

황태구이 Grilled Hwangtae

Grilling some hwangtae.

The spread,

Falling from a helicopter

         In Pyeongchang we were investigating 황태: A type of fish that has been hung outside for four months in order to allow it to freeze and defrost over and over. This procedure give the meat a chewy texture not dissimilar to a soft jerky. In South Africa we might call it fish biltong, but this fish is used in a broad range of meals: soups, stews, fried with spicy sauce, added in to 불고기… essentially, the technique arose from the need to preserve food over winter, essential for food security in rural parts of Korea until very recently, and the local cuisine hasn’t developed very far beyond it. This combined with Korea’s intense nationalism, which causes it to resist a lot of the cultural changes that open relations with the western world could bring mean that these foods remain immensely popular.

         That said, the process of preparing this fish is culturally and gastronomically fascinating. There is a different name for the fish at every stage of preparation: The live fish is called 명태, the fresh version 생태, frozen 북어, and the cured final product 황태. It of course is also very revealing of what must be millennia old Korean practices of food preparation and production, which speaks to the great influence that food played in Korean, as any agrarian, society.

         After doing our eat and interview routine in the 황태 restaurant, we went to the great fields where the fish is hung out to freeze and defrost. The local farmer was friendly, though toward the end was getting frustrated at the sheer number of pictures and walking shots the producer asked us to do. We estimated that the temperature, after wind chill, was below -10C, and great stinging sprays of snow would be periodically driven through the shooting, causing everyone to turn their backs in unison.

Cold? Yes, damnably freezing.

The confection in question.

Interviewing Nobuko.

Hanging some fish.

The rank and file of fishy kind.

         Our interview at the end of hanging fish and chatting with the local fish “farmer” was awkward. The question asked of each of us was, “Do you think this food could be popular with foreigners overseas?” and we were left with the task of having to prevaricate around the answer “No, definitely not.” The follow-up question: “In that case, what can we do to make it popular?” left me, at least, with a few seconds of gaping helplessness. The obvious answer was, “make it out of something that’s not freeze-dried fish.” I suspect this would not have gone down well. My personal opinion of 황태 is that, while it is edible, and can even be cajoled into being tasty, I would never choose to eat it over the range of foods available in any modern society. Also, it has fish bones, which are for me a major turn-off. I suggested in the interview that the food might be more successful somewhere like Norway or Iceland, but the truth is that those countries probably have a well-saturated market for local seafood products.

         Our final destination for the day was genuinely exciting. We drove for another two hours to reach a spot high in the mountains where sat a traditional Korean hamlet, roofed with wooden shingles. We explored the hamlet, investigated the mill, all the while doing the usual camera shuffle, and then got to try our hand at making some shingles. This was done with a hammer and set of iron wedges. In the bitter cold swinging a heavy mallet at a piece of wood was good warming exercise. It was really fascinating to see how Koreans used to roof their houses back in the day, and the elders who showed us were really friendly, happy old folk.

Nobuko investigating the shingling.

Splittin' wood like it aint no thang,

         The meal we cooked that night under the tutelage of the 하모니 was made largely from vegetables and roots that had been harvested wild from the mountain, combined with potato. We cooked over fires in a traditional old house, in massive ancient iron pots sunk into the kitchen fireplaces. Smoke filled the large building, forcing the camera crew to open the windows so they could see, which loosed in the building a biting breeze that penetrated every layer of clothing. We thoroughly looked forward to getting to sit down and eat the hot meal over which we had labored. Yet by the time the camera crew had finished taking super-closeups of the various foods, they were fairly stone cold. We oo’ed and aah’ed over them appreciatively through chattering teeth anyway, and were thoroughly relieved when we were told we could go to our pension.

That's a lot of tofu.

Enjoying some facsimile of heating.

David and Cynthia stoke the fires and stir the cauldron.

Twice the brinded cat hath mewed...

Steamy goodness.

The final result.

         The day was far from over, however. We had been given some hint of nighttime activities and games to be played for the camera, to which I had been looking forward, and then we were given some sets of acrylic paint, some oddly shaped pieces of bark, and told to do a painting. Of anything. I knew then how my students feel when I place a task in front of them without any warning or direction and say: “go!”

         It was good fun, although the producer was disappointed at how little talking we were all doing while focusing on our paintings. My piece of bark was shaped something like a fish, and so I painted it into a fish. Then we got to be interviewed on why we had chosen to paint what we had, and I had to waffle a metaphorical meaning into the fish (penguin?) I had chosen almost at random.

         That done and the filming finished for the day: Party in the Pension! It was the Producer’s birthday, and so we all sat around, eating snacks drinking beer and soju, and playing drinking games. There was also a 노래방 machine in the room, which got some use later on.

         The next morning I woke up with a hangover, the first time I’ve even done so on Christmas Day. I largely blame the dryness of any room with 온돌 heating, but I probably should have drunk some water before going to sleep the previous night.. 

Foreigner Foodies - Day 2 - Royal Court foods

On Sunday the skies blew clear and the air was crisp. Armed with the previous night’s resolution and a good long sleep I arrived at the production offices (ever our starting point), spot on 12:30, with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. My optimism was charged with the knowledge that today all the filming would take place inside a single location.

         We vanned across Seoul for half an hour before arriving at a very impressive apartment complex and parking in the basement lot. The home we would be visiting belonged to an elderly woman who, if I remember, was on a council for traditional court foods. At any rate she owned and ran a very successful restaurant serving those same foods that would have been eaten by kings and emperors. The dish we were going to be making is called 탕평채 (Tangpyeongchae).

         While in the basement waiting for other cast and crew members to arrive (Nobuko arrived separately, and the crew members seem perpetually engaged elsewhere), the producer gathered us around and told us that we needed to do more “overacting”.

         We were filmed approaching the apartment complex (walking very slowly) and conversing unnaturally, all five abreast walking toward a double door: A sudden crush of bodies; we’ll fix it in post.

         After being introduced to our host, we were filmed being introduced to our host. Nabuko gave some greeting and words appropriate to the occasion, and we all genuinely appreciated the superb view south out of their window. This was by far the nicest apartment in Korea I have ever been in – it was massive, the kitchen was large enough to have an island in the middle, and the view over the mountains was amazing.

Leigh models his puffy coat between two puffy cameramen.

         Some concern between our host and production crew meant some minutes of conversation before it was decided that we would move to the restaurant to film. We packed up some food, shucked our coats back on, and loaded into the vans. The drive to the restaurant was short, but the subsequent wait to go in was long. After half an hour the camera crew emerged to declare that the restaurant kitchen was not the right place for filming, and so we were off back to the apartment.

         Cooking the meal was good fun. The kitchen was cramped with more than 10 people in it, but there was lots of chopping and stirring and straining to be done, and plenty of opportunities to “sneak” a taste of little bits of food – in front of the camera.

Slicing and dicing.

David showing off his knife skills.

Cindy julienning the shitaki mushrooms.

I take instruction on even segmenting.

David receives a mouthful he cannot refuse.

잡체 Jabche

In Korean, 선맛 (hand flavour), doesn't sound as gross as in the English. 

        Our host was delightful, and full of praise. She enjoyed force feeding us from her chopsticks, and showing us the different techniques for slicing mushrooms and cucumber extra thin.

         I found that in not seeking attention or overblown statements, I enjoyed myself far more, and it became a lot easier to loosen up and relax. Toward the end of cooking I was feeling genuinely comradely toward my fellow cast-members, a feeling missing the day before, which sensation only grew as we ate and chatted after the meal.

         The food was superb: In hindsight the best food we ate on the show. In addition to tangpyeongchae we also made japchae, which was already a long-time favorite of mine. The side-dishes (방찬) were likewise of the highest quality and I ate myself absolutely silly.

Taepyeongche (태평체), royal cuisine.

Jabche, just as delicious.

Kkakdugi, my favourite "kimchi"

Kimchi kimchi.

Mung bean porridge. A cleansing starter.

The table grows heavy.

This kitchen isn't quite as well equipped. (Though it does have an oven, making it rare in Korea)

         This whole day was far simpler and less involved than the previous one, and I felt entirely different on the way home from it than I had the previous night. Despite the waiting, and the back and forthness, it was very enjoyable, we got to eat good food, and generally explore a new side of Korea.

         Now I had only to get some sleep before going to work the next day…

Foreigner Foodies - Day 1 - Seoul food

Saturday morning. 8am. I had less than 4 hours sleep, and was taking an elevator to the third floor of an unremarkable building in Dobong-gu. I could have climbed the stairs but my head was fuzzy and my legs unresponsive. I felt a desperate need for coffee. I was looking for the offices of a production company working with Arirang TV, a local English-language TV station.

           Three days before, Wednesday, one of my co-teachers, on the way to class, had made me a proposition. His brother, he had said, is a producer for Arirang TV, who was going to be making a food and travel TV show featuring foreigners travelling around Korea and traditional foods from each area, and they’re looking for one more foreigner, would I like to be on it?

           I needed some more details: when would it be? How long would it take? Would the school be ok with me (possibly in their eyes) taking another job? Most importantly, would it be like those Korean reality shows all over TV with overblown comedians made to perform ridiculous tasks so their inane reactions could be caricatured and replayed with sound effects and dramatic subtitling? I was assured that it was not, that I could speak English, that it would take 6 days, two of which during the first week of school vacation. To these terms I agreed, so long as my school was in agreement. My coteacher spoke to my VP, who readily agreed; I received a phone call from a lovely woman, 성진이, on the production staff, who confirmed my participation, and then sent me an email with all the details: meeting times, shooting schedules, etc.

           I was also told that I should bring my computer to blog, or a diary to fill in, as this would be part of the show. I worked out also that the show was not for Arirang, a minor cable network, but KBS, one of the three major Korean broadcasting stations, with a potential viewership of everyone. Still, that made it more exciting.

           My attitude as I arrived at the office on the first day was one of anticipation and nervousness. I didn’t know what to expect, but my resolution had been to merely roll with whatever happened. I was fairly confident of my ability to elocute and convey an opinion, I was extremely comfortable talking about food, and I’d done a lot of travelling in Korea, so I knew I could draw on that experience.

           When I reached the office there was no activity. Lights were on inside (I could see through the glass door) but there was no movement. The door slid open at the push of a button, and I spotted some legs beneath a desk. 안영하세요? The legs began to move, and a half-asleep Korean woman raised her head from the desk on which she had clearly spent the night. Confused, I didn’t know what to ask, and it quickly became clear she didn’t know why I was there. Leaving, I called 진이. It turned out there had been a message, I had not received it, and as a result I was two hours early. In the office, at every desk, people were beginning to manifest from the bundles of clothing lying across every chair. The room slowly came alive, like a kicked bee-hive, moving through gelatin.

           I went to sit in a coffee shop over the road, downed several average-but-cheap coffees, and read my book – a meditation in itself. About an hour later 진이 joined me, having rushed in to work to keep me company. A lovely lady, she used to be a flight attendant for Emirates airlines, but now works both at a university and for various production companies as a translator.

           When we went back across the road to the office everything was a lot more lively. Three of the four other foreigners had already arrived, and the fourth followed soon after me. Already waiting were David, Cynthia (Cindy), and Leigh, the last being Nobuko. All told we made two Americans (David and Cynthia), a Canadian (Leigh), a Japanese woman (Nobuko), and one South African (yours truly). Besides Cindy and myself, all the others seemed to have some television experience. David had been on a previous episode of this same series, in which he participated in a cooking competition; Leigh is a photographer who has written an article for the Korea Herald and subsequently been inundated with requests for TV appearances; Nobuko is a freelance reporter/announcer who has reported news, sports, etc on Japanese network TV.

           The news that we would be appearing on the far more mainstream KBS rather than Arirang TV raised an important question: was this an English-language show? The answer was no, which was concerning to me, though I was assured that I should just speak as much Korean as I was comfortable with.

           The style of the show would be faux-documentary; a weird subgenre that seems to exist (so far as I know) only on Korean television. Basically, every day or place would have a pre-scripted scenario that we would act through. The overarching idea was that we were five good friend getting together to explore Korea and find the traditional foods of each area. On that first day we were looking for the traditional food of Seoul – we started out by sitting around a conference table in the production offices discussing where we’re from, our favorite Korean foods and what we thought might be the local foods of Seoul.

           We were actually instructed to bring out our computers and smartphones and do some research to that end, though with the ultimate goal of deciding to go to 인사동 (Insadong), a heavily touristed street in 서울, to ask the locals and passers-by their opinion on the matter. This led to some fairly long intervals in which we sat around in silence, cameras rolling, browsing the Internet. I can only imagine that this section will be vastly edited when it comes to the final TV show. The cameras did get some super-close-ups of smartphone and laptop screens displaying various websites.

           Our instruction was then to take public transport to Insadong, with the cameras chasing us, so more research had to be done to find the best route, though I cut that rather shorter by simply knowing the subway route, having been to Insadong on several occasions. Then came the big, dramatic, 갑시다! (Let’s go!) moment, which required several takes to reach the level of enthusiasm the producer was looking for (a level distinguished by cheers, fistpumps, and rapidly drawn-back chairs).

           I should comment that I am not particularly opposed to this style of television-making, in which there is no drama but melodrama, and every emotion is almost painfully overwrought, though I certainly don’t enjoy it myself. I was happy to go along with it, and I found it enjoyable to engage in this type of overemphasis in an ironic manner. It was from this first 갑시다! that an escalating process of overdramatic gestures and expressions was born on that first day, fed no doubt by our collective nervousness at a new situation and environment.

We prepare to head out. From left to right: Me, 진이, Nobuko, David, and Cindy. Leigh behind the camera

           Getting to Insadong was a simple matter, though the subway was crowded and we with our camera crew attracted a lot of attention and took up a lot of space in the car. Some other poor foreigners, by sheer bad luck, found themselves trapped next to us in the train car for several stations and, in our need to fill the stretching void between points of conversation, were subjected to our prying, awkward questions. If they end up on TV it will be without their consent, and they left in something of a discomfited hurry.

Dashing through the subway.

           It had been determined that everyone needed a… hobby, I guess, or some distinguishing feature. I was given a camcorder that would ostensibly be my toy for the purposes of the show. When we arrived in Insadong we set up at the entrance with me being filmed filming the other foreigners’ reactions and Nobuko “reporting” where we were and how we felt. Then we had a brief discussion with the pre-determined outcome that we would split up, Nobuko and myself interviewing the local restaurant owners, and the other three asking people on the street. The goal was to get someone to give the answer 솔능탕 (solleungtang) to the question “what is the traditional food of Seoul?”

           The reason I was paired with Nobuko is that her Korean is excellent, to the point of fluency, while mine was nowhere near up to the task of interviewing curmudgeonly old restaurant owners. Most of them, upon discovering that we didn’t intend to patronize their establishments, were very reluctant to talk to us. When we did manage to find someone to interview, I found myself listening very closely to the rapid Korean conversation, anticipating the appropriate place to nod and smile appreciatively. I became very good at that.

           It turned out solleungtang was not so common in Insadong as perhaps the production team thought. We finally found a restaurant that served it, and I got to point at the menu item and ask 이고 뭐요? (What is this?). It should be noted that it was bitterly cold, somewhere around -5, but with an incessant wind that crept its way into my clothes and swelled my fingers to sausages. We were in that weather for well over an hour, and by the time we were interviewing a woman from the tourist information booth, who found the whole situation very amusing, I was very keen to be inside somewhere warm.

The other group interviewing a local couple, as the producer looks on from behind cameramen.

An elderly gentleman wondering what all the fuss is about.

There were plenty of foreigners in Insadong too. This one seems nervous.

           We were an hour late for our reservation at the solleungtang restaurant. It was at least warm inside. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to go back into the kitchen and watch the chef slice up the meat and demonstrate the cooking. Solleungtang is a traditional soup made from all the leftover pieces of an ox or cow. Back in the day cows and oxen were so valuable that they were only slaughtered on particularly special occasions. Whenever that occurred the locals ensured that no part of the beast was wasted, and so solleungtang is traditionally made from boiled ox bones, with various cuts of meat – cheek, tongue, brain, flank – cooked into it in thin slivers.

We got to watch him slice it all up. He put on that hat especially for us, I think.

Those squishy banana-shaped bits on the piece he's holding with his left hand? Tonsils, apparently.

           Setting up cameras for the meal took a long time, and when it finally arrived we were famished. Every dish was meticulously photographed and recorded steaming and bubbling away. We were all to eat together and converse among ourselves, and give little soundbites about the food. A lot of emphasis was placed on our “reaction shots”, the look that passes across your face, accompanied by a salivatory gesture and murmur, indicating just how delicious the food was. After the meal we each took turns to look directly into the camera and give our personal opinions of the food.

The final meal. Clockwise from the white soup: Solleungtang; Various extra meat cuts; Savoury tiny fish oil (?); 깍두기 (radish kimchi); 김지 (Kimchi); More fishy oil sauce. The white broth is made more spicy and flavourful with the addition of green onions (파), pepper powder (고추가루), and occasionally kimchi.

           It was at sometime during this meal that I started to feel the pressure. Pressure to compete, pressure to come up with the next clever superlative, and pressure to be entertaining on camera. I haven’t discussed it with other of the cast, but I suspect that at least one or two of them were feeling similarly. Throughout the meal, and cresting at the final interview this sensation set me more and more on edge; a hard current of tension that left me, when the day was finally done, emotionally worn and strongly disconcerted. I felt a strong tension between my own sincerity and the desire to be entertaining. The melodramatic actions, faked greetings, and transparently scripted scenarios disturbed me not at all, as I was able to engage with these in an ironic manner. Yet, in the competitive urge to throw out progressively more gushing descriptions of a food that, while good, certainly wasn’t deserving of the kind of praise we heaped upon it (like the salt it badly needed), I recognized a quality I deplore in myself and others, and which was deeply unsettling.

Being interviewed.

           It took me most of the hour-long trip home to work through these emotions, but as I approached home I found myself coming to a resolution: That I would not allow myself to engage in any way competitively with my fellow cast members, that I would remain emotionally withdrawn from the process of creating the show, and that I would not allow myself to be drawn into anything that could threaten my composure. With this resolution in mind I arrived at home in a far more content state of mind. The following day we had to meet only at 12:30, and so I settled in for a long sleep: it was late and I was emotionally and physically worn.