How are you?

So let's imagine you're walking past a work-related acquaintaince in the hallway of your office. What do you say? Probably some variant of "Hey, how are you?" right? Depending on your level of intimacy with this person, he or she could either say "Fine. How about you?" or proceed to tell you all about that awesome fishing trip last weekend, the recent divorce, and/or what he or she had for breakfast.

So recently, I asked my Korean language exchange parnter how to say, "How are you?" in Korean. He looked at me for a second with a furrowed brow. "You know, 'how are you?'" I repeated. "What you say to a casual acquaintaince just to make conversation or add a little more than just 'hello' to your interaction."

He thought for a good long while and concluded that there was no Korean equivalent to "How are you?" a ubiquitous question in Western social interaction. In fact, it's so important that there are multiple variants of how to say it, some of which I will here repeat for the sake of color.

How are you?
How's it going?
What's happening?
What's kicking?
What's shaking?
What's up?
How's it hanging?
Who's your daddy?

(Okay that last one wasn't real.) But you get my point. Shin Woo told me that the closest Korean equivalent would be "What did you do yesterday?" but this, to me, is a very different sort of question. It asks for a particular response and specific information. I have no particular desire to know what my coworkers did yesterday. "How are you?" on the other hand, is a very open question. Depending on your level of intimacy with your conversant, your amount of free time, and your desire to share information, your reply could be quite comprehensive or a single word. And everything in between is okay.

Differences in a language almost always reflect differences in a culture. So what does this phenomenon signify? It could grow out of the more socially stratified nature of traditional Korean society, as contrasted to American society. "How are you?" is an open and flexible question, and Koreans are traditionally anything but open or flexible. Either you're intimate with someone or not. No grey space, and no room for inviting intimacy where it does not already exist. But if anyone else has theories, I would love to hear them.

So you caught me at a critical moment...

So sometimes I get a little discouraged. I think about how I can't tell a good wine from a great wine, or about how little appreciation I have for culinary delights compared to some people I know. Every man wants to have a good "nose" for whiskey, but to me they all sort of taste... well, whiskey-like. Far from being the responsive, sensitive tuning fork of pleasure I would like it to be, my palate sometimes feels like an all-too blunt instrument. So I get a little bit sad.

But for the rest of my life, I will be able to console myself, knowing that an entire country of people lacks even the fundamentals of what, in the West, we would call "good taste." I will now treat three aspects of the Korean culinary experience that have left me wanting.

Let's start with the bread. I think every bread-product in Korea must be made from rice and sugar instead of wheat. Their bread lacks texture. It lacks character. It lacks flavor. Really, the BEST bread you will find in Korea is comparable to Wonderbread. And yet, today I dared to hope... I went to the supermarket looking for pita bread, knowing full well what a desperate, hopeless quest I was on. As I sauntered over to where the bread-lady was displaying her wares, I had a moment of optimism! That bread-like thing, there! It looks flat, and almost resembles pita! Luckily, the bread-lady was there to offer me a sample, otherwise my hopes would have been mercilessly extended until I got home and tasted it for myself. It was sweet. Sugary sweet. Brutally sweet. Probably made from rice. And soft as a marshmallow.

The word "crusty," as in "crusty bread," is not in the Korea culinary vocabulary. In fact, "baking" at all here is an unknown art. It is extremely rare for a domicile to be furnished with an oven, and so a whole slew of Western-favored foodstuffs are unavailable here. Cookies and cakes? Rare. And of such a low quality when you happen across them that you are best to stick with things the Koreans do better.

Let's move on to the wine, which I may have mentioned in an earlier post on alcohol in Korea, but it deserves to be recapitulated here. Wine in Korea tastes like grape juice. It tastes like if you took 2 parts Welch's Grape Juice (wait, not Welch's... too high quality. Substitute CVS-Brand instead of Welch's) and added one part cheap White Zinfandel. That is what passes for wine in Korea, and it's available for two dollars a bottle (made by Lotte, of course). Thankfully, there are easily available imports from Italy, Chile, Spain, Argentina, France, etc. In fact, you can buy imported wine at any of the million corner stores.

Lastly, let's talk coffee. Now, it's no secret that Americans love coffee. For many of us, the first thing we do in the morning is start a pot of coffee, letting that wonderful aroma permeate the home as we gird ourselves for another workday. Some people prefer to stop at Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, or their favorite coffee shop on the way to work. Some people (as is the custom in my family) brew a pot of coffee (decaf!) immediately after dinner. What do all these coffees have in common? The key word is BREW. I just returned from the supermarket, so the horrifying image is still burned into my mind: an ENTIRE WALL of... INSTANT COFFEE! It's available in many flavors. At many different strengths. With sugar. With no sugar. Creamer. No creamer. Decaf. Super Caf. But it's all INSTANT! I think on the entire wall of shelves there were three or four REAL coffee products. Korean instant coffee is almost always packaged in these single-serving sleeves, the horror of which is enhanced instead of mitigated by their cuteness.

All of this having been said, Koreans do seem to enjoy brewed coffee... judging by the supermarket aisle, they just never make it themselves. There are an abundance of Starbucks and other more Korean coffee shops where, for the prohibitively expensive price of $4-$6, you too can enjoy a cup of kah-pee! (Konglish for "coffee")

So how do I conclude this scathing missive? Perhaps with some palliative words. Korean food is not all bad. In fact, some of it is really really good. I love bibimbap (a mix of fresh vegetables with egg and fried rice) and dak-galbi (a kind of stir-fried chicken?) as well as many other things here. But stuff just ain't like it is back home!

Mountain God

I made another pilgrimage into the mountains North-ish of Busan yesterday for a stellar hike with my colleagues and friends. We had a great time. I have no idea how far we hiked (it was at least a few miles), but as you can see from the pictures, the trail stretches along the ridge of mountains. I guess these ridges were used to defend against the Japanese, back in the day. (As any Korean will tell you, the Japanese have been a persistent problem throughout Korea's history, mostly because Korea is a peninsula that provides very convenient passage to the mainland. If, you know, it weren't for all the Koreans in the way.)



There were many, many Koreans hiking the trail along with us. I've noticed that Koreans take their sportswear VERY seriously. People buy these special hiking jackets, pants, shoes, and backpacks. And those ski-pole-type-things that I guess help you hike on difficult terrain. But I honestly find that whole practice pretty silly. When I showed up in some durable denim pants and a short-sleeve shirt, my Korean colleague commented that "I didn't look like I was ready for hiking." Jeez, sorry I didn't drop a few hundred thousand won on the "appropriate" gear!



In other news, the end of the session is approaching, which means that in two short weeks I'll be getting an entirely new group of children. And believe me, there are some kids that I will be all-too-happy to have out of my classroom. However, I might have to teach some classes that I've never done before, which is always a little uncomfortable at first. And it also means that I have to submit reports on every student I have right now (probably a little less than one hundred). Which I'm officially late on! Back to work on those...

A Sunday Korean: "Breaking the Lules"

So I decided what I am yesterday. I am a Sunday Korean. You all know the phrase "Sunday Christian," right? Someone who goes to church and takes religion seriously one day of the week, but sins like CRAZY for the other six days (especially Saturday night, I bet)? Well that has become, unfortunately, my attitude about learning Korean.

I have a new language exchange partner who takes our work together VERY seriously, which is great. He simultaneously wants to PERFECT his English while helping me to accomplish my goals with Korean (which, by the way, are quite modest). So we spend two hours every Sunday engaged in fairly intensive language study, the likes of which I haven't known since Mr. Chandler's B-period AP French 4 class.

The problem is that for the other six days of the week, part of my job is to actively police my classroom, reprimanding any student who speaks Korean, or "Konglish," or really even speaks with a heavy Korean accent. For example:

Student: Teach-uh? Can I please-uh go to bathroom?
Teacher Chris: *with mock incomprehension* Teach-UH? What is teach-UH?
Student: TeachER, please-uh!
Teacher Chris: Please-UH?? What is please-UHH??

So I spend 6 hours every day, and three hours on Saturdays, enforcing a strict-English only policy. It makes me feel like an evil colonial governor, but that's what I get for reading all those books in post-colonial literature for Lit Crit class.

Meanwhile, I would really like to cultivate my skill at speaking the language my children would like to desperately to use during class time. I'm sure I could learn quite a bit if I didn't have to be such a Nazi about enforcing English only. Every now and then I've let a word or two in Korean slip out, and this actually completely disrupts the classroom atmosphere. Students immediately stand up and point to me, with glee on their faces. "TEACH-UH YOU SPEAKED KOREAN! TEACH-UH YOU BROKE THE LULES!" It's a sight to see.

Mentioning Christianity brings something else to mind. The churches here in Korea all have their steeples decorated with bright red/pink neon crosses. That's right; you can identify a place of holy refuge from quite far away, even in the darkest of sinful nights, by the neon pink cross, shining like a very flamboyant beacon from heaven above.

Please Don't Hit Us

And speaking of domestic abuse! Today in one of my elementary school classes, my students had to get into groups and brainstorm things that they liked and did not like about their parents. Then they had to think of what kind of parents they wanted to be, and finally, they had to write a song about parenting.

A group of five elementary school girls produced this gem. It's called, "Please Don't Hit Us."

PLEASE DON'T HIT US

Listen to my opinion
Listen to my opinion
We hope that you don't hit us.
(Because we can get hurt
Because we can get hurt)

And we can get many stress
We always try hard for
Be a good daughter to you.

Heartbreaking, isn't it? In a funny, ESL-kind-of-way. The boys, on the other hand, did not focus on the same emotionally intense issues as the girls. Instead, they wrote about a much more straightforward concept, one that is near and dear to the hearts of children from developed countries all over the world. And in the true spirit of rock and roll, it's called, "Give Me."

GIVE ME

Give me money
Give me money
Give me money

And we want.

Give me free
Give me free
Give me free

Now we have.

Everything
Everything
Everything

And we have
All the thing.


UPDATE:

So I gave the same exercise to a different class today and got surprisingly similar results. A group of boys wrote from the standpoint of a consumer in an acquisitional materialist culture, while the girls' song reflected their desire to escape from the critical judgements of their elders. Amazingly, the boys even chose the exact same title for their song.

WHEN I GROW UP

When I grow up,
I want to be a nice parent.
I don't say so many scolding,
Because...

The scolding makes them
A sense of inferiority,
The scolding makes
Children have a bad mind.


GIVE ME

Give them
Give them
Give them
A free time.

Give them
Give them
Give them
Many money.

Don't give them
Don't give them
Don't give them
A study time.

Don't give them
Don't give them
Don't give them
Many books.

PIFF and a long commentary on domestic abuse...

So this week is the Pusan International Film Festival, which is, in the words of everyone's favorite Anchorman, "kind of a big deal." The city is flooded with even more twenty-something American "waegu" than are normally here, although the really cool thing is that I know more about Korea than all of them put together!

I saw the only movie I could get a ticket to today, a Canadian film called "Twice a Woman," about a woman who attempts to reinvent herself and recover from the trauma of an abusive husband. It was actually not bad, although I'm sure I'm far from the target demographic and there's a reason why it's the only one that didn't sell out completely.

The one thing that I wished this movie gave me (and I've noticed this from other movies about abusive men) is more of an insight into the mind of the abuser. In popular culture, the narrative of an abusive relationship seems to invariably center itself on the victim, her helplessness, her recovery, her growing confidence, etc. But that's really only half the story, isn't it? I mean, does a guy just wake up one morning and declare, "Today, I'm going to send my wife to the hospital!" I mean, what's going on inside his head? I'm genuinely curious, because there must be some sort of internal progression from "I'm a guy" to "I'm a guy who abuses his wife/girlfriend." What factors turn a person into an abuser? Can ANYONE be transformed into one, given the right circumstances? (Probably more people than you'd think, anyway.) Who, or what, CREATES an abuser? And, if I may ask a more dangerous question: What narratives do abusers craft to justify their behavior?
And to become still more dangerous: Do these narratives have any legitimacy?

Also, I read a study that actually claimed that women are actually MORE LIKELY to abuse their domestic partners than men are. Obviously, less men are going to report it when their wife beats them up, because of the shame involved. Also, consider how little social support there is for abused men? For men, few people will even admit it's a problem. When I was at Sarah Lawrence, a couple of women came from an organization to talk to the RA Staff (including me) about services for abused women, and how to deal with situations where we suspected abuse, etc. When I questioned their insistence on using the female pronoun for the abused and the male pronoun for the abuser, they dismissed my objections on the basis that the "overwhelming majority of abusers were men." EVEN IF this is true, wouldn't insitence on those gender-based pronouns only serve to reinforce the social frameworks that prevent abused men from seeking help? Just sayin'...

Speaking of ABUSE, someone stole my bicycle. It wasn't a super-expensive bike, but come on. It was locked up right outside of my academy and when I got out of work at 10pm, it was gone. And it was raining. Hard. So I had a long and angry walk home to my apartment, where I promptly mixed myself a drink and fantasized about what I wanted to do to the person who so flagrantly violated my property right.

Another Month

Has it really been a month since the last time I posted in this blog?

A lot has happened here. What can I say; a lot happens in a month.

The past week has been super-awesome. Even though she is totally lame and doesn't even read this blog, a very very special person visited me here in Korea and we had a great time together. This also gave me the chance to do some sightseeing that I otherwise would have missed out on.



I went back to Beomosa Temple, which was even more awesome than before because halfway up the mountain we discovered ANOTHER temple inset from the trail. This satellite mini-temple was anything but mini, but because of its remote location it was infinitely more awesome than the temple proper. I think it was called Gymeosa or something. Definitely started with a "G" anyway.

Also, there was the Busan Bienalle, which is an art festival that happens here every other year. We saw some pretty sweet sculptures in the APEC Naru Park (including a bizarre piece called "Improbable Tree" that involved an anatomically correct rabbit mounting a porcupine in coitus among the foliage of a tree), as well as a huge exhibit at the Busan Modern Art Museum.



It was Chuseok on Wednesday, which is the most important holiday of the Korean calendar. It's a harvest festival that could probably be best compared to Thanksgiving in the states. I didn't have to work on Chuseok or the day after it, although I'm paying for it now... our Wednesday classes were moved to Saturday and our Thursday classes were moved to Sunday. So I taught for nine hours today, and six of those hours were my LEAST FAVORITE of my week... but that's the law of equivalent exchange for you.

But all in all, the past week has been a very sweet time and I'm sorry that things are back to normal now.

A Very Classy Weekend

This weekend I was intent on having as much fun as possible to make up for last weekend's distinct lack of fun. So Friday night I went out with all my coworkers for a belated "Welcome Chris and Courtney Dinner" (Courtney is a new teacher at the branch who arrived maybe two weeks ago). I always feel privileged to raise a glass with my Korean branch manager. At the office the guy is friendly enough in an awkward, standoffish kind of way, but put some Soju in his hands and it's a whole different story! There are a few social rules here regarding drinking: A) It's impolite to fill your own glass. B) It's impolite NOT to fill the glass of somebody else if it's empty. And most Koreans are pretty vigilant about keeping the glasses full. There are also many drinking games that involve drinking your whole glass at once (they call this "one shottuh" because they can't quite say "one shot"), and then your glass gets immediately refilled. Basically, the only way to avoid getting hammered is to sip your drink slowly but keep your glass full.

Saturday morning I left on a sweet rafting trip that went until Sunday afternoon. The Korean rafting is more relaxing than exciting, but this is okay. I was actually on what they called a kayak, but is really more of a two-person raft. Kind of an inflatable kayak of sorts? Once again, I was impressed by the prodigious amount of drinking that accompanied this venture. I could relate the amount of alcohol my group of twenty twenty-something English teachers consumed over the course of the evening, but that would take too much space. We all slept on the hardwood floor with only a few blankets and pillows for comfort, so it's a good thing we prepared ourselves with a few nightcaps.

On the way back to Busan from the rafting trip, we made a stop at Jinju castle, an important historic site outside of Busan. They had a decent museum and the grounds were pretty enough, but overall I was underwhelmed. It didn't have the kind of impressive architecture I've come to expect from these Korean historical sites. In fact, there wasn't much of a "castle" there at all! Still, I felt culturally enriched.

Sunday, I went with my coworkers to see the Lotte Giants play a baseball game! (Remember how in an earlier post I talked about how Lotte is a huge conglomerate here? Well the Giants are one of the TWO baseball teams Lotte owns. To me, this would be kind of like imagining the "Coca-Cola Red Socks" or the "Philip Morris Mariners." Just doesn't feel right.) The game was entertaining enough--Koreans love to get really, really excited at these events. Give me a sunny day at the stadium with some beautiful mountains in the background, throw in some home runs, some dancing cheerleader girls, and strange orange trash bags that everyone wears on their heads, and I'll be happy. And all of these factors were present. Also, the stadium was naught but a short bike ride from my apartment, so that was also advantageous.

Another complaint I meant to mention in my last post: At night time, it's pretty common to see drivers riding around with no headlights on. The streets are so well lit in most parts of Busan, it's probably pretty easy to see where you're going even at midnight. But it does make it dangerous for everyone else! My guess is that most of those lightless-drivers are, themselves, lit. They say that the number one mistake intoxicated drivers make is failing to turn on their headlights! (Thanks, Chevrolet, for giving me running lights so I NEVER have to worry about this.)

Miscellaneous Praise, Criticism, and Judgement

In this post, I'm going to do a little bit of complaining. Maybe do a little bit of unfair generalizing about Korea and people who live there. Maybe even make some judgmental, biased comments. But that's not all I'm going to do. Oh no. I'm also going to make some very POSITIVE generalizations. I might dispense praise effusively. I might even dispense it RECKLESSLY.

Maybe it's because it's a crowded country. Maybe it's because, as a people, they've developed a passive-aggressive response to unfavorable situations (such as long lines). I'm willing to give them all these excuses, and more. But the fact remains that Koreans will habitually and unabashedly cut you in line. Young and old, big and small, male and female. They'll just kind of sneak in there, avoid eye contact (just like the Dane Cook sketch) and then before you know it, BINGO. You've been CUT. And what can you say? NOTHING. They would probably pretend not to understand you anyway.

If I was in America, I would have options. I could make a scene and almost assuredly get my way (not to mention make an ass out of myself!). I could choose a similarly passive-aggressive response, and do that thing where you shuffle forward a little bit at a time until the CUT has been RETURNED. I could make those little frustrated exhalations and exchange indignant looks with my fellow queue-rs. I could assume a Buddhist magnanimity and choose to not care about who gets to check out first.

It's a good thing that I generally go with that last option in the USA because right now, it's the only option I feel comfortable with here.

Moving on, I'd like you step into the Twilight Zone with me for a moment. Imagine a world where Dunkin' Donuts and Starbucks--all those places where we love to stop and get coffee first thing in the morning--DIDN'T OPEN UNTIL TEN AM. Wouldn't this be simply, unimaginably, INCONCEIVABLE!?

Well start conceiving, my stateside compadres, because "Angel-In-Us Coffee," probably the largest coffee shop chain in the country, doesn't open its doors until 10am, long after the average worker needs his or her commute-coffee (at least, this goes for the one near my apartment). Welcome to the middle ground between light and shadow, science and superstition. Welcome... to the Twilight Zone!

Alright, time for the effusive praise. In America, what is the GENERAL sentiment about people who live there, but don't speak English? Pretty negative. (Most people never mind the fact that almost everyone in the US who doesn't speak English DESPERATELY would like to but lacks the resources for doing so, but that's another story.) On the other hand, many Koreans are extremely impressed that I even know ten words of Korean, and will never ever be difficult or impolite (at least not my face) if I DON'T know how to say something. A flawlessly well-mannered people, even if they are spitting poison about us "waegu" behind our backs--and even blaming some of their national problems on us!

Doctor, Doctor, Can't You See I'm Burning, Burning.

On Thursday evening I had a sore throat rapidly manifest itself. Just like the kids at Becket, the Korean students I teach are walking little petri dishes. I hoped it would go away soon.

Friday night: fever. Damn. And my throat is starting to get REALLY REALLY uncomfortable. Like, it hurts to drink water or even open my mouth. Eating is basically out of the question.

So it gets bad enough that I want to go to the hospital, since I'm pretty sure I have strep throat (bacterial infection), and trying to "wait it out" will just prolong my suffering needlessly.

So I go the Emergency Room (there's one a short walk from my house). I'm anticipating having to drop a couple hundred USD on this trip, but that's still nothing compared to an E-Room trip in the States.

A guy who can speak a little English comes and asks me what's wrong. I tell him my symptoms, and he takes my temperature and looks down my throat. (39.6 Celsius, I learned later, converts to 103F. Whoah, Mama!) I tell him I want an antibiotic, and he agrees. He wants to hook me up to an IV and give me a shot in the butt (they are really passionate about the shot in the butt here--seriously, no matter what you go to the ER for they try to give you one. And he really tried to sell it too!), but I just want to grab my meds and GET OUT.

As I'm leaving, I pay the bill. Not even thirty USD, and that's INCLUDING the medicine. Go Korea.

The Photojournalism Continues

This picture was on a canvas bag. If you have any ideas as to what it could possibly mean, I'd love to hear them.







You have two choices... barely.







Buy any Kid's Meal at the Lotteria and receive a Milk-Squirting Spring-Mounted Box-Shaped Farm Friend!








Club Womb... a warm, safe place.









This place was only SLIGHTLY less questionable than "Dogs' Nuts Coffee" next door.








Anatomy of a Cartoon Construction Worker! (Have I mentioned that everything here is a cartoon? Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in Roger Rabbit's Toontown.) 1) Silly Helmet. 2) Absurd smile I have never seen on ANY Korean laborer. 3) Batman-grade utility belt. 4) Mickey Mouse gloves. 5) Clown-like shoes.







And this one goes out to all the Olympians in the audience tonight: I photographed these hair-care bottles in one of Korea's famous "Love Motels." Because if you don't already smell like sex after spending time there, you can wash your hair in the liquefied essence of the Sex God himself!



I don't know what C.V.S. stands for here, but I'm sure it ISN'T "Consumer Value Store" or "Convenience, Value, and Service." Nevertheless, a moment of knee-jerk panic overcame me momentarily when I saw this sign.


Also, I can't help but share a short conversation I had with one of my elementary school students earlier today right before class. (Note One: Dog is sometimes eaten here, but mostly only by older, more "traditional" Koreans at special restaurants. Note Two: "Gresh" is the "English name" that this boy chose for himself, which all of his peers think is VERY STRANGE.)

Teacher Chris: Have you ever eaten dog?
Gresh: No, not dog... dog is dirty.
Teacher Chris: Haha, okay.
Gresh: I eat my sister's skin.
Teacher Chris: Ewwwww...
Gresh: No, it's delicious. Like a potato.

Martial Arts Purgatory

Hapkido: Way of Power, Inner Harmony, and Totally Not Being At Your Studio When You Say You Will Be

I just got back from a fruitless trip across town to a Hapkido school that was CLOSED. There was a sign hanging on the door saying that they were closed for three days for a "Summer break" or something like that. And this wouldn't have irked me so much if this wasn't the SECOND time I showed up to this school and gone back home lesson-less. (Incidentally, I would have been somewhat mollified if there was notice of the cancellation on their website or Facebook page, but there WASN'T.) The first time was the day after "Mud Fest." And I was the only person to show up to class first thing on a Monday morning, so the instructor basically just sent me home. So seeing as how I've made two trips there for a SCHEDULED lesson and haven't received ONE yet, I'm thinking maybe another martial arts school might be worth trying first.

So there are three martial arts schools here in Busan that advertise classes in English. There's the one above. There's the one that only has classes scheduled when I can't make it to them. And there's the Korean Kartel.

Even the name is slightly scary, right? Add to this the fact that their training sessions last three times longer than the other two school (three hours vs. one hour) and their website contains the following:

No Pussies
No Excuses
Your Workout is Our Warm-Up
Go Hard or Go Home
Fit Like F**k

Oh, and their Facebook page claims: "The safest training program is also the most inefficient one." Can you see why I'm a little hesitant to go to this school? I could die during my first class, and they would just tell me to get up and stop being a pussy!

So maybe I will try yoga instead of martial arts? Or just join a normal gym? (There's one called "Tomato" not far from where I live, which is a strange name for a gym... maybe because by the end of your workout you are as red and swollen as a Jersey Beefsteak?)

You're So "Wise," Please Enlighten Us: What is the Socratic Method Anyway?

Yesterday I attended Busan's "Socrates Cafe." Every Sunday, amateur philosophers gather to discuss a question that the group votes on for that day. Yesterday, our question was "Are all things quantifiable?" The leader-slash-moderator of the group had brought that question to the table, which to me betrayed, right off the bat, his shamefully materialist prejudices. This guy was an economist, and it SHOWED in what I thought was an MOST UNSEEMLY FASHION. The IMPULSE to quantify everything derives from some sort of neurosis of the soul, probably obsessive-compulsive in nature. His most telling quote: "I want everything to be numbers so that I can understand everything." This is an offense not only to the complexity of number-systems, but to MY TASTE as well.

The other big speaker of the group was the guy who I think actually founded it three years ago, Kim. Apart from referencing "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Repair" a little TOO much, his contributions to the discussion helped balance Mr. Materialism. Also, he was possibly the only person in the group who wasn't a twenty-something, which also added value to his words.

There were maybe fifteen attendees. The "conversation" was largely between maybe five people, with another five chiming in with their two cents every now and again and the last five TOTALLY SILENT for the duration of the two-hour meeting, which I thought was strange. But since a good portion of the participants weren't native English speakers, perhaps they weren't 100% comfortable expressing their thoughts en anglais.

Saturday night I toured some of the fashionable nightlife destinations of the Seomyeon area. It was a going-away party for one of the teachers at my branch. I had the rare opportunity to drink with the branch manager. I guess it's true what they say about Korean businessmen: they certainly have an intimidating seriousness about them, but that seriousness is very soluble in alcohol. We had a great time, but I hate that the subway in Busan stops running between about midnight and 6am. Because I was ready to go home at about 3, maybe, but not yet ready to pay for a cab ride across town. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, or, if I may: between a bar and club-place? Certainly not the WORST place to be stuck. It was a minor miracle that I managed to wake up for the Socrates Cafe on Sunday morning: a sort of secular penance for my very un-philosophical night out.

Also, I had a dream that Connecticut (specifically, Canterbury school) was actually technically inside Busan city limits, and was really right outside of the downtown area by maybe half and hour drive. Mostly, no one seemed to know about this. When I mentioned to my mother that Canterbury should make periodic field trips into Busan for the benefit of the Korean students, she was like, "Yeah, we can't really do that... I mean, traffic is really bad downtown, and those Korean bus drivers are CRAZY. Plus, it would run counter to the school's whole policy of cultural immersion for the Korean students, and might actually make their homesickness worse."

I've definitely had stranger dreams, but due to the subject matter I thought this one might be worth sharing with y'all. It does relate to a recurring theme I've had in my dreams ever since I got here. I will frequently dream that I've gone back home to the States, but I will be hyper-conscious that I'll only be in the States for a brief amount of time (a week, or only one night) before I have to go back to Korea. Even stranger, sometimes this knowledge will be accompanied by the feeling that for some reason it's WRONG for me to be at home... I should be in Korea.

Go ahead, my friendly Freuds, and psychoanalyze me! Submit your interpretations via comment!

A Reflection in Poesy

Entitled, "by now you know I'm not really talking about breakfast cereal OR hermit crabs"

i just finished my second box of breakfast cereal in this strange new place
and that means i've moved in.
when the hermit crab swaps shells,
he isn't the type to get sentimental about it,
but hermit crabs have no taste for their situation's symbolism;
they shift and shuck shells through samsara, rinsing and repeating,
unwitting victims of their symbol.
cereal is expensive where i live now.
like peanut butter and guinness, it's mostly imported.
i buy it anyway.
it costs to hold onto breakfast cereal.
it would cost more not to.
if hermit crabs were the sentimental sort,
they might get cold claws about moving out, moving on, moving up.
no doubt, it would cost them.
but it would cost them more not to.

Hop-a-Bus to Hongbeopsa

Last Sunday I visited another major Buddhist temple in Busan, called Hongbeopsa Temple (pronounced sort of like hong-bop-sa). It was very very different from Beomosa. First of all, it is a community based on farming, which differentiates it from the traditional (and more famous) "mountain temples" of Buddhism. Secondly, it had a decidedly more MODERN feel. From the outside, it looks more like a sports complex than a place of worship, and on the inside it looks more a psychedelic Buddhism-themed club than a sanctuary of quiet reflection. Obviously, I liked it immensely. Witness the gigantic internally illuminated Buddhas below, which occupy the same focal space in the temple that the crucifix would in a Catholic church.



Behold, as well, the half-completed Buddha statue which adorns the roof of the temple. It adds a post-modern (if I may be so bold-slash-pretentious) aesthetic to the temple, and certainly doesn't detract from the psychedelic theme of the interior. Buddha's dismembered, yet precisely posed hands, seem engaged in some sign language of enlightenment. It's a visual Koan. Some entity is meditating, but Who? We cannot know, since it's face is invisible. We can only see the hands. Eventually, the practitioner realizes, "I---I am Him. And He is me. And we are both Mu." And as soon as the statue is completed that interpretation will fall away, just another impermanent shadow. Like Shelley's Ozymandias , TIME will alter the meaning of the symbol. Unlike Ozymandias, it shall be the statue's completion, and not it's destruction, that supplies the irony.

But enough of this pseudo-philosophy! A famous man whose name escapes me delivered a poorly-organized but richly meaningful "Dharma Talk" on the nature of religious art, specifically Buddhist art (although he failed to make any mention on the statue sitting on the temple roof!). His talk was followed by a demonstration of traditional Korean tea ceremony, which was long and largely (I hate to say it) uninteresting. After the demonstration, we foreigners (ten total) were pressured by the host to "participate" in a tea ceremony. This consisted of me basically having a stereotypically overbearing, exacting, and unforgiving Korean mother for half an hour. She sat next to me and corrected EVERYTHING that I did, giving me instructions in terse Korean that I (obviously) couldn't understand, so mostly she just grabbed my hands and made me do things the "right" way. It was so hard not to laugh. Definitely my most intense "Lost in Translation" moment yet, although this "moment" lasted a full half hour! (Many thanks to Alex for the picture below, and you can check out her take on the temple here at "AAA"). I do want to point out that I am the only person in this image, apart from my Korean mentor, with my hands correctly positioned.



The temple was also tricked out with technology that many schools would love to be able to afford. Although only about fifty people were in attendance, the speaker's face was captured with live video and projected onto two HUGE pull-down white screens.

Strangest of all, the people of the temple offered us lunch, welcomed us sincerely, gave us tea and rice cakes, invited us to participate in some of the most sacred aspects of their culture, and DIDN'T ASK US FOR A PENNY IN RETURN. Whoa, is this Buddhism thing government subsidized or something? (Actually, I think it is... by the Ministry of Culture or something like that. Interestingly, some of the earliest Korean government support for Buddhist temples came when the generals realized how easily defensible and militarily strategic some of those mountain temples really were during Korea's skirmishes with Japanese invaders.)

And that's all for now!

Phoracter-y

"Actually, I prefer my food more on the DEAD side of life..." This picture is particularly salient because it's not uncommon here to actually eat LIVE octopus. That's right, you put the whole thing into your mouth and swallow. I understand that it's sort of a battle, because if you don't swallow aggressively enough the octopus can choke you to death in any effort to, you know, NOT be swallowed.


I guess Koreans really love neologisms made from bizarre combinations of English words. For instance, there's a restaurant near me called "Food+Feeling=Fooding." I didn't take me long to observe that another viable solution to this lexical equation (lexiquation?) would yield "Fooling." Below, you can see another example of this linguistic inanity (linguinanity?).


I found this poster in a pharmacy window. I have no idea what it's advertising. Something for prostrate trouble?


I get a "Lost in Translation" moment whenever I see a sign like this. Which happens frequently. New York is so far away it just feels ABSURD for people here to fetishize "authentic" New York culture. Especially when it's anything but authentic.


This is a clothing store at Gangnam Station, which is sort of like the Grand Central Station of Seoul. If you can't read the name of the store, it's "my freetimes change my life. sometimes luxurious. sometimes pretty and sexual."


Would you care for the Crunch Shrimp or the Squid Ring? Both of these items can be found at Lotteria, a Korean fast-food chain (read my earlier post on the Lotte brand name). For an entertaining (and very cute) Lotteria commercial featuring penguins, click here.


I found this sign attached to a big electric truck. Because I guess they had a problem with people urinating on it? But if you gotta go...

Kitty, kitty. Meow.

Just to clarify, since a few people have asked: I did not bring the cat back to my apartment (which is far too small anyway), nor will I be bringing it back to the States. I left it at the temple, since I saw other cats wandering around the temple grounds and figured the cat would be taken care of there (Buddhist respect for all living things and all that?).

As we parted ways, I tenderly whispered, "We'll always have Beomosa." She promised to write. I bet she won't. They're all the same.

Be-a-Buddhist at Beomosa

Yesterday I traveled to Beomosa Temple, located on the outskirts of Busan. One takes a long subway ride all the way out the perimeter of the city, and then takes a fifteen minute bus ride up the mountain to the temple. This was probably the best "attraction" I've visited so far in Korea, not just because of the temple or the natural beauty surrounding it, but the sincere spirituality I encountered there.

The East is spiritual, right? WRONG. So far the Korea that I've encountered is about as un-spiritual as it gets. Anti-spiritual, if you will. Children here go to school for many more hours than American children do, and don't have time for T.V. or just plain playing outside. According to the Organization for Economic Growth and Development, the average American works 1777 hours in a year, while the average Korean works 2390 hours! This leaves little time for hobbies and leisure, and the South Korean focus on material prosperity leaves little room for more "idealistic" concerns. Like religion.

Aside from some token nods to Jesus, the Buddha, and ancestral spirits, basically Koreans don't have their eyes on the "beyond" in any meaningful sense of the word. Of course, neither do most Americans, but I still had this subterranean sense that the "East" would be different. (I should have read my Said's Orientalism before I left...)

On an unrelated note, a Korean girl who I VERY BRIEFLY talked to in a convenience store at the base of the mountain actually followed me up to the temple and tracked me down. After about five minutes of conversation, she asked me if I wanted a Korean girlfriend. My first proposition from a Korean girl! I declined as politely as I could, but this is one in a series of what I call "Lost in Translation" moments. That is, moments when I am so overcome with the weirdness of a situation that I want to laugh, but I can't because no one else would realize why it's so funny.

Behind the temple, there's a trail leading even farther up the mountain. There's a dense canopy of trees overhead, but the forest floor is covered in boulders. That's right, gigantic rocks, with water flowing underneath them, and this goes on up the mountain for four kilometers or so. I got about halfway up but couldn't go on. Exhaustion? No. Dehydration? No. Frustration? Again, no.

I found a KITTEN on the trail who was very very skinny. I had seen cats wandering around the temple and decided that the kitten had probably strayed too far up the mountain. I was determined to SAVE HER. So I carried her down the mountain, even though she cried the whole way. I guess she couldn't understand me when I told her that I knew what was best. Maybe she only understood Korean. Anyway, I felt like it was the appropriately Buddhist/compassionate thing to do. And who could just leave a little kitty there, anyway?

Perhaps when I saved the kitty I actually saved the reincarnated spirit of a Bodhisattva, and I will be rewarded in the next life by being reborn as a RHINOCEROS.

Spas: Not Just For the Ladies

I just got back from a very famous spa here in Korea: Heosimcheong Spa (it's pronounced sort of like hoe-sim-chong). Actually, I learned that it's the largest natural hot spring in ALL OF ASIA. Don't believe me? Read the wiki! It's really quite something, as long as you're comfortable with public nudity. That's essential, because everyone is NAKED, including YOU. Naturally, the baths are gender segregated to, you know, keep everyone honest. I was the ONLY westerner there, so I'm not sure if everyone was looking at me because of that or because of my admirable physique.

Perhaps they were looking at me because of my tattoo. There were signs posted in Korean and English with rules, just like you might find at a swimming pool. Conspicuously prohibited from bathing were people with TATTOOS. Generally, I'm a believer in following the cultural rules and norms of any place where I'm a guest. "When in Rome," and all that. But in this case...

It is true that not many Koreans seem to have tattoos, even the younger generation. Do they really think that having a tattoo makes me somehow unfit for public bathing? Anyway, I crossed the thresh hold and bathed right along with all the non-tattooed Koreans, and no one said anything to me about it. Although maybe this is because the spa staff didn't know how to say "You have to leave now," in English. Incidentally, the spa's website states that people with OFFENSIVE tattoos cannot bathe, so maybe they were really trying to eliminate the neo-Nazi swastika-sporting demographic (although a swastika is a good luck symbol here, so I maybe even neo-nazis can bathe freely).

The bathing area was composed of a large central pool, beautifully ornamented (I would have taken pictures, but there was that whole "nudity" thing going on), and many surrounding features. I spent some time in their sauna (while watching a show about sharks on the Korean Discovery Channel) and relaxed in the "Philospher's Bath," which was, for some reason, a disconcerting green color. I doused myself with the "waterfall bath," which pours water on you VERY VERY HARD. Almost as good as a massage. Many Korean men were laying or sitting down under the waterfall and letting it pour on their most sensitive areas. Which looked painful. Not to mention AWKWARD.

Unrelated to the spa-related activities, I'm about to finish my first week teaching here. So far, so good. I teach one (three-hour long) class on Mondays and Fridays, and two on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. So the week has a nice bell-curvy trajectory to it.

My Tuesday and Thursday classes left me utterly DRAINED because on those days I teach very very basic English to a very very large and excitable class of elementary school kids, then I teach very very basic English to a class of Middle School kids who seem to be linguistically disabled. And it's not necessarily their fault. The class is called English Chip Level 4, and it's literally the LOWEST level that the school puts Middle School students into. In other words, some (all?) of the students in my Middle School EC4 class tested LOWER than EC4 (significantly lower?), but they end up in EC4 anyway. As you can imagine, this makes it very difficult for me to teach them. I have to speak SOOOOO SLOWLY and repeat myself frequently, and it's soooo frustrating when they give me this completely blank look and can't answer even the most basic "yes or no" questions. What am I supposed to do when I literally don't know how to make the questions any easier?

My elementary school students didn't like it when I insisted that they speak ONLY ENGLISH in class (which is a school-wide policy). One very precocious (not to mention obnoxious) girl asked me in this very challenging tone why they had to speak English but no one in the United States had to learn Korean. I could have gotten defensive, or pointed out the many reasons why that argument was absurd (I mean, no one is forcing them to learn English, except maybe their parents). But I DIDN'T. Instead, I pretended like she said something really insightful. "Wow, guys, did you hear what Amy just said? Does anyone have any ideas why that might be the case?" No one had any ideas. So we moved on. In English. It was wonderful.

The "C" Word

Consumption. It's what drives the American way of life. It is any wonder that, in my first weeks here, I should reflect on being a consumer in Korea?

1.) First, let's talk about alcohol. The beer. Disappointing. It's made from rice, and most Korean beers contain 0% barley. Even the American beer Budweiser is made from only 30% rice. As a result, every Korean beer is a pale-golden lager with a taste that is mediocre at best. Not once have I tasted a beer here and went, "HEY, that's pretty good!" Maybe that day will come. Foreign beers are expensive, as a result of HEAVY taxation on imports.

2.) The wine. It inexplicably tastes like GRAPE JUICE. Which makes me sad. No further comments on that.

3.) There is a silver lining to this alcoholic cloud, however. Soju. It's cheap, and doesn't taste terrible. Like Korean beers, it's made from rice. It contains approximately 25% alcohol, and tastes like weak vodka. People here drink it straight, evidently, but I've been experimenting and discovered that it mixes fairly well with, well, anything with which vodka would mix well. Fanta Pineapple soda is my favorite so far. An approximately 12 oz. bottle of Soju costs between $1 and $3. I don't think any spirit in the US is THAT CHEAP.

4.) Either the Korean labeling system is different from the American system, or half of the food I've been buying here is already expired. I have to guess that the date on the package indicates that the item was PACKAGED on that day, not EXPIRING on that day. Otherwise I've been eating BAD FOOD. You see, there's no Food and Drug Administration in Korea. Although there's probably some sort of equivalent, I simply don't feel the familiar comfort of a Federal regulating body dedicated to protecting consumers. So even IF a store is selling TONS of expired food, I have no idea what kind of repercussions there would be.

5.) Really strange things are expensive, and really strange things are cheap. Allow me to give some examples. (For the convenience of my American readership, all prices are in US dollars.) Anything imported is going to be expensive; that's a given. Especially alcohol. A can or bottle of Guinness (NEVER on draft) at a bar will set you back probably $10, if not more. Even buying a can of it from a corner store will cost at least $5. Pringles costs about $4 a can. Peanut butter and jelly are about $5 each. Cereal, being a Western thing, is expensive, even if it's not imported. Bread and bread goods are CHEAP. A loaf of bread will cost a dollar, max. Similarly low prices for sweet breakfast/desert breads, muffins, etc. Meat is very expensive, with a few exceptions: Squid. Octopus. Fish. All of the above are purchased INTACT, with freaky unblinking eyes staring you down, row after row after row. Absolutely NOTHING I would ever buy at a supermarket.

6.) I have been very impressed with the quality and diversity of the "cup-noodle" style products here. You can get many many flavors, and they are all delicious and cheap! I would only add about half of the spice packet, however. Unless you want your pansy American mouth ON FIRE. Unlike other Asian countries, Koreans use metal chopsticks (I have no idea why), but I've found these very difficult to use with slippery slippery ramen noodles. For the ramen, I "stick" with wood. Get it??

7.) Know how in the US we have laws to prevent corporations from completely DOMINATING their market (although sometimes they do anyway)? Like, anti-trust laws, anti-monopoly laws, that sort of thing? Well I guess they don't have them in South Korea, or they work very differently. A couple words on "Lotte." It's one of the biggest conglomerates here in Korea (and Japan, I've learned). Allow me to list a few of the things under the Lotte umbrella. They are a huge department store chain, like Macy's or JP Penny. They are a huge fast food chain (called Lotteria), kind of like McDonald's. They are the largest chewing gum and beverage distributor in the country, like Wrigley or Pepsi. There's an amusement park, called Lotte World. They own hotels, oil companies, and housing complexes. You can buy Lotte insurance, or other financial services (Lotte Card, Lotte Credit). They own SEVERAL Korean baseball teams. And the really amazing thing is that this company was founded by one guy in 1940's post-war Japan and is still run by his family. Hear that? All of these things are run by a FAMILY. Isn't one family controlling this much of the market, like, illegal or something? NOT IN KOREA.

8.) Finally, not only am I a consumer of goods, but I am a consumer of information. South Korea is one of the Most Wired Countries in the World, and the internet is cheap and ubiquitous here. SO WHY CAN'T I ACCESS HULU, OR ADULTSWIM.COM? Like most people, there are a few T.V. shows I enjoy watching; like many (younger) people, I don't like to watch them on T.V. Instead, I have taken to using a far more convenient medium: the internet, which hosts a greater variety of content that I can watch literally anytime I get the itch. But because of international legal issues, Hulu and Adultswim.com just aren't available in most countries abroad, including South Korea. The internet is all about the free and open sharing of information, right? SO WHY THIS DRACONIAN LEGISLATION? WHAT ARE THEY AFRAID OF, ANYWAY?? God forbid some poor ex-pat should watch his Family Guy reruns.

Busan: City of Seafood Dreams

So here I am, living in Busan, having passed training (which only 60% of my training group accomplished). Not only that, but they gave me a cute little certificate "Most Likely to Become Head Instructor." Yikes, I hate those high expectations!

Yesterday I did some exploring in Busan. Although it's larger than any city in the US (except LA and NYC), there're surprisingly few "tourist-y" attractions here. July and August are beach season in Busan, however, so I visited the famous Haeundae Beach (at nighttime, naturally, although the beach is still overrun with people getting drunk and setting off fireworks). The picture above gives you a pretty good idea of the environment, I hope.

I met some fellow Americans randomly on the subway and they invited me to go with them and their friends to a German beer place. After, we went to a bar called Thursday Party, which is part of a chain here. By this time, I was quite ready for bed. But oh no. The ex-patriots I've met here so far (American and Canadian) LOVE to party, so at 4am we headed next door to a Nori Bong, which is kind of like Karaoke except that you and your friends rent your own room--the nice ones come with comfortable couches, tambourines, and even bongo drums, so that everyone can get involves. They are VERY popular here. By the time we were done there, the subways had started to run again, so I didn't even have to pay for a cab ride home. One very bizarre thing about the Nori Bong is that every song is accompanied by a sort of "music video" with edited footage from, I don't know... Korean movies? Some of the videos looked very soap-opera-esque, but others were more action style.

Needless to say, I slept late today, but after my slumber I met up with Alex, a friend from Sarah Lawrence who is also teaching here in Busan (she's in her second year here, if I'm not mistaken). We toured the Busan Museum of Modern Art and I really, really wish I had brought my camera! But here is an article with one of the works I saw. Made me think of Magrite, if he was a photo-realist (photo-SURrealist?).

http://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/news/art/2010/06/148_58671.html

Tomorrow, I teach my first class!

Also, I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Independence Day! And I'd like to note that I was celebrating the 4th of July a full thirteen hours before ANYONE in the United States was even ABLE to do so. HOW'S THAT FOR PATRIOTISM?

Honeymoon=Over

So yesterday I got sick. Quite sick. Something started in my stomach and within a few hours I had a fever going. It was pretty miserable to sit through hours of training feeling like CRAP, and it was even worse riding the subway back to the hotel (a 45 minute door-to-door trip) feeling like crap. Yesterday I ate nothing all day and just the thought of Korean food was enough to make me feel even more sick to my stomach. I went to a Korean pharmacy with one of the recruiting officers as translator to try to find some Pepto-Bismol or something. This old man who was there rambled at me in Korean for a minute or two, even though it was clear I couldn't understand him. I'm guessing he was making jokes about how Westerners couldn't handle squid or kimchi or whatever, more for the entertainment of the other Koreans present then for my benefit. Finally, I got my hands on some Gaviscon (which I knew they had here because of these funny commercials involving firefighters in your belly spraying Gaviscon all over your insides to put out the "fires" of heartburn.)

(Here's another very entertaining example of Korean advertising culture: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6eNqwaL1h8 )

The training is pretty rigorous--they expect us to internalize and memorize a lot of information, because at this point I'll be hitting the classroom in only five days.

I slept for about twelve hours after getting out of training yesterday (no easy feat, considering my roommate has had this terrible cough for the past three days). It's a good thing I'm feeling better today, because missing a day of training would probably be bad; it might mean I would have to go through the whole week of training again--so much is contained in a day.

By the way, the picture above depicts some traditional Korean folk music being played. I had the privilege to see a performance the other day at the palace--my favorite instrument was the "gayageum," which is the one you see in the foreground. That particular one is a "bass gayageum," which is played with the use of a popsicle-stick shaped plectrum, but I also saw some young ladies in traditional garb playing the regular kind, which one picks with the fingers of the right hands, while using the left hand to fret the strings. Some of the rhythms and hand motions reminded me of playing the banjo: before I leave, I definitely want to give the gayageum a try! One doesn't simply fret the strings with the left hand--since there's so much space between the frets and the board, you can create these interesting "shaky" sounds by pressing down with a vacillating amount of pressure.

Interestingly enough, most Koreans are totally uninterested in and disconnected from their folk history. This is a country that is drunk with the present technological boom... I tried asking some of my Korean native trainers at CDI about the gayageum and traditional Korean folk music and dance, and they really knew NOTHING about what I was interested in. Very strange, but I suppose it's consistent with what I've experienced as the "corporate culture" at CDI. Chungdahm Institute is definitely an education BUSINESS, and corporate ladder climbing is a part of the culture. My trainers keep telling us about all the opportunities for advancement if you're a successful teacher, which titillates many of my fellow trainees but leaves me a little cold. It's just very different from Canterbury, where the faculty is a tight-knit community of interlocked families, or the typical University, where the faculty is (ostensibly, at least) part of a community of knowledge. CDI is a community of business.

Seoul: Don't Squid Around

Today, I visited Changdeokgung Palace. You can read the nitty-gritty historical details here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Changdeokgung

But for your convenience, I will summarize the main things I took from this little expedition, historically speaking:

TIME is the third-largest threat to Korea's palaces. These things are over four hundred years old and that just plain takes a toll on the infrastructure, which is mostly wood and paint (not like those ugly stone constructions of the European Middle Ages). Luckily, there is extensive government funding that has restored, repainted, and revivified the palaces.

Fires are the second-largest threat to Korea's palaces. Fire destroyed parts of the palace many, many times, prompting the wise rulers of Korea to install huge pots of water at strategic locations. "Of course," you are no doubt thinking, "Keeping water around is a great way to put out fires!" INCORRECT. The wise rulers of Korea kept huge pots of water around as a PREVENTATIVE measure. Because everyone knows that fires are caused by fire demons. And when a fire demon sees his own reflection (say, in a huge pot of water), he will get scared and run away. And not burn the palace down.

And the first-largest threat to Korea's palaces is... (drum roll please) the Japanese! They've invaded Korea. More than once. And every time they do, they seem to cause NO SMALL MEASURE OF PAIN upon the Korean people. Colonialism... Imperialism, Racism... the Koreans have been hit by many spiky -isms. And at the other end of that -ism is an oppressive Japanese person.

Later, I will tell you about how NICE and CIVILIZED the Seoul subway system is compared to other cities. Like New York, for instance. And Boston (Ash knows what I mean).

Arrival

At 3:40am this morning Asiana Flight 221 landed in Incheon International airport outside of Seoul, bringing several hundred Asians. And me.

This is a strange country. I knew it as soon as the airline offered me the following breakfast foods: croissant, yogurt, melon, and lasagna. I knew it when I saw dried octopus sold in every convenience store in downtown Seoul (for a very reasonable price... only about 75 cents for dried octopus jerky! Only it's not cut up like beef jerky is... it's just an octopus. Dried and seasoned. All of the little tentacles, mutely arranged in vaccuum packaging, signaling some unknown portent... perhaps it's Korean sign language for World Cut Victory? Apparently Octopi have the powers of supernatural prescience: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/world/europe/10420131.stm )

After that long parenthetical remark on cephalopods, let me treat the World Cup. Seoul is World Cup Crazy. Infected with World Cup Fever. (Its cephalopods have World Cup encephalitis.) Tonight is the semi-final game, between S. Korea and Uruguay. If South Korea wins, I fully expect to be awake all night with drunken rioting in the streets. If South Korea loses.... well, I fully expect to be awake all night with drunken rioting in the streets. Or maybe the streets will be dead silent, as every good Korean searches for an Uruguayan to beat up? Either way, I have obtained a jersey for Korea, and will wear it tonight as a I try to participate in the revelry the only way a complete cultural outsider can... with cheers and boos at the appropriate moments (i.e. do what everyone else seems to be doing).

More to come! Much more! I'll be in Seoul for the next week for my training with the company, and then (provided everything goes well), I will be off to Busan!