Final Post

The most common question people asked me for the last ten or so days was: “How do you feel to finally be leaving Korea?”

My answer was always a mixture of things, a joke, maybe some generic bullshit along the lines of: “I’m sad but excited for blah, blah, blah,” or a pre-rehearsed line about being ready for the next step.

There was just no time to articulate my thoughts. It seemed that all of a sudden everyone was talking about the end and there was camping and cigars and whiskey and rooftop barbecues and hugging and retrospection and Gwangju and “peace out, homie” and gifts and kisses and fried chicken and all sorts of madness.

It wasn’t until I boarded the plane that I finally understood. The six hours prior had been a chaotic swirl of sanitizing and packing, two activities I possessed neither the skill set nor patience for. I closed down every account in either the name “Daniel” or “Lorenzo” and sent all of my remaining money. This brilliant action left me won-less for a cab or an airport bus, forcing me to make it to the subway along with everything I had acquired over the last three years. This had been packed into two suitcases, a backpack, and a travel bag, weighing a grand total of one hundred and fifty pounds (or sixty-eight kilograms for you metric cats). During this ordeal, one moment permanently etched itself into my mind. I found myself sprinting up a hill, an hour behind schedule, dragging the cumbersome lot of my things through the streets of Itaewon on a day where the temperature and humidity were both well into the eighties. Comparing myself to Jesus lugging the cross up Calvary Hill would be both inaccurate and blasphemous, though to say the image didn’t run through my head would make me a filthy liar. Along the way, two random Korean men and a Korean woman offered to assist me in carting my bulbous load to the airport. I don’t know if I would had been able to survive without them.

Once I had finally made it on the subway, I was bombarded with texts and calls. Desperately, I tried to think of something to say that was poignant and significant, but after a week of ritualistic binge drinking and watching the sun rise, I found myself emotionally and physically depleted. I was but a pathetic, white, sweaty shell awaiting transport with nothing at all to say back.

The revelation struck aboard the plane. My Korean brother had called me right before take off. Like with everyone else, I had no idea what to say to him. As it turned out, neither did he. All he could really say was: “My feeling is confused.”

And he nailed it. That is exactly what I had been feeling.

For the last three years, my identity had been the title of this blog: “Foley in Korea.” A lot of people gave me credit for giving up my established life in the States and living halfway across the world, but here’s the dirty, little secret: moving to Korea is probably the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You know why? Because, no matter what I did, it sounded impressive because it was “in Korea.” This novelty became a source of confidence and pride to me, and quickly became a major aspect of who I was.

Along the way, it became more than that. I found meaning in teaching, fell in love with beautiful women, studied Korean traditional sword fighting, spoke the language, found a family, and partied like I’ve never partied before. Still though, no matter what I did, the “in Korea” distinction lingered and propelled me to continue my wild lifestyle abroad.

And now, after three years, I have decided to strip myself of that distinction, as I no longer wish to rely on it. I am no longer “Foley in Korea.” I am just “Foley.” And, as my brother so eloquently put it, I find this fact very confusing. Though I will surely see everyone whom I loved in Korea again (seriously, count on it), I now face the challenge of re-establishing my identity in my birth country.

However, I don’t come back empty handed. No, I’m not talking about the twenty kilograms of kimchi in my suitcase. I’m talking more about the memories, experience, and choices that have made me the man I am today. Though I am no longer “Foley in Korea,” I am “Foley who once was in Korea,” and I believe there is something to that.

To my loyal readers, or first timers, I want to thank you immensely for choking down this narcissistic rant and any and all of my blog posts before this one. Your support made living in this land possible. And to the Korean Peninsula, and all the ride-or-die people I met in my days here, an even greater thank you to you. I dearly miss you all.

I’m going to leave you with this, a photo I can’t take credit for. This is my favorite non-female sight in Korea, a view from my rooftop, a collection of my friends and Namsan Tower, taken by my former roommate, one Terrence Kim. 

Why this photograph? For me, when I think of the glorious nation of South Korea, my rooftop view of Namsan is that which comes to mind, as if the soul of the country spouted out from atop the mountains, silently observing all those who had found their way within its boarders.

Much love everyone,

Dan Foley

July 2^nd, 2013

Greenfield, Massachusetts

Mimes, Makeup, and Mastication

Hello Lovers of Phallic Food,

Welcome to Foley in Korea. There's little time, so let's just jump right it.

What’s news in Korea? Well, the other day, I went out for a gaebul feast. Gaebul is a choice Korean seafood, better known by its scientific name Urechis unicinctus. They are a breed of long, pulsating, pink and brown colored cylinders with strange openings on the top. In English, they are known as Penis Fish.

No really, here’s the Wikipedia page, according to which they are also known as the “Fat Innkeeper Worm.” If that’s not innuendo, it should be.

Before sampling this phallic beast, I was told they tasted like “condoms soaked in fish brine.” Now, while that description surely got my appetite kick-started, your might need a little more, so here goes: they’re served raw, and continue to pulsate, almost as if they’re breathing, for as long as an hour after they are dead. But Dan Foley is nothing if he is not fearless, and so he prepared himself, downing a couple of bottles of maehwaju and go to the fish market (Maehwaju is what’s known as “flower wine,” but despite the soft name, I promise, it gets you tanked).

So, after swallowing a few Penis Fish, I finally can dispel all the rumors and tell you the truth about their exotic and long sought-after flavor: they taste like condoms soaked in fish brine.

…not that I know what condoms soaked in fish brine taste like.

Here’s a video:

Now, I’m sure a lot of you came across the article on the Miss Korea Pageant Contestants of 2013 and the controversy surrounding it. For those of you who didn’t, this picture should more or less paint you a picture.

(Note, these are twenty different women. Oh, now I get it).

Here’s the thing: I, more than many, have been public about my issues regarding the prolific plastic surgery levels in this country, and how they’re all trying to attain the same look and how beauty shouldn’t be a homogenous idea sculpted by a surgeon and blah blah blah, but guess what? These girls don’t look the same. Not even a little bit. This isn’t, believe it or not, a case of too much plastic. This is a case of way too much makeup.

Holy shit, right? For a full listing of these girls without the power of makeup, see here: 

For my next piece, I have to reminisce about my old Alma Mater, Boston College. Yes, back in my glory days, I remember, after a grueling winter, the happiness we would feel on that first day of spring. The sun would be up in the sky, while down below, birds would chirp and woodland creatures would play. But most importantly, the guys would pull out sunglasses and lawn chairs, because it was the day women would strip from their restrictive snow pants and don their skirts of liberation. We called this day “Skirt Day,” and it was good.

I told you this story so you understand why I love Korea. In Korea, every day is Skirt Day. Even when the weather is frigid and the streets are icy, women still refuse to wear anything but heels and skirts. This fashion decision is responsible for most of my happiness in day-to-day life, and now the fascist government of Korea, who clearly hates fun, is trying to take this away from me. They recently passed the "Over-exposure Act," stating that women who show will be slapped with a fifty dollar fine. At first, I was devastated. How dare they try to inhibit the rights of these women? Travesty! Travesty, I say!

But then everything was okay. Korean women simply ignored the newly passed law, and police officers just really don’t seem to care that much. The system works. 

Restrictions are not always a bad thing, though. Take Korean Air, for instance. These days, it is known as one of the world’s premier airlines, a monument of what the flying experience should be (read: hot stewardesses and good food). A decade ago, they did not always have such a pristine reputation. Back then, they had the nasty habit of crashing. A lot. The reason for this remained a mystery for the longest time, as the Korean pilots were as, if not more, qualified than other pilots around the world and the planes met rigid safety requirements. Then finally, the truth came to light, and it all made sense. The massive problem in the cockpit turned out to be that Korean pilots spoke Korean.  

One more time, the problem was that Korean pilots spoke Korean.

What the hell? Allow Lorenzo to explain. Korean is a complicated language and not just for grammatical structure and syntax. Confucianism enters all aspects of life, especially language. The result is a complicated system of respect built on a hierarchy of age and position. What that means is you can’t tell someone older than you that they’re wrong, which is kind of a big deal if you’re the co-pilot and responsible for hundreds of lives. You see, the co-pilot is always younger. So, when communicating a problem like “hey, you know we haven’t deployed the landing gear and are all about to die in a fiery death, right?” you can’t really just come right out and say it. Instead, you have to tip-toe around it, saying something like, “would you mind if we ran one more check of the–” Oops. Everyone’s dead.

The solution: They made all their pilots speak English in the cockpit. Problem solved. I’m just glad the stewardesses are safe.

While Korean is a beautiful language, this isn’t the only instance of the system of respect being wildly impractical. In fact, a friend of a friend exploited the hell out of this when he worked for Samsung America. He was a few years out of college and had a reasonably good job, one where he often had to travel to Seoul for business. He was Kyopo, that is, Korean-American, and spoke fluent Korean. But when he arrived in Korea to meet the business executives, he gave them the impression he only spoke English. Why?

Every one of his Kyopo co-workers who had done work in the past were immediately ranked in terms of age and status when they met with the higher-ups at Samsung due to the implications of language. But with English, he was suddenly a foreigner and on equal footing with them. What did this get him? Respect. Better treatment, better food, and 5-star accommodations in the Hyatt. Interesting…

In complete other news, I recently went to Chuncheon, an area of Korea known for its mouth watering dalkgalbi, boneless chicken grilled in a stew of spicy sauce and vegetables.

It ranks among my all time favorite entries in Korean cuisine, but that wasn’t the real reason for my excursion. I went down to Chuncheon for their annual mime festival, the largest in the world. And it was awesome, particularly for the utter lack of mimes.

Why is it called a mime festival? I don’t know. Instead, it was a giant water festival, complete with fire hoses blasting spectators and militant youths armed with squirt guns and buckets and the sole mission to make sure that nothing, I mean nothing, stayed dry. It is hard to sum up into words how truly amazing this very esoteric experience was. The best my words can do is surmount is this one snapshot memory I possess, where my entire world was this chaos of water, while hundreds of people were lost in a massive artificial downpour on an immaculate sunny day while an intoxicating mix of bizarre dubstep blasted from the back of passing trucks. Also, I was in a monkey costume.

The whole event makes the news every year, and I ended up getting interviewed. You can see it here. You just have to download the client to watch it (I promise to harm will come to your computer).

On a final note, I am a bit disappointed with the recent turn of events. I was hoping to spend my last two months in this great land being an unemployed scumbag finishing my book and growing a beard. But, knowing my terrible luck, I got offered a new job the week after I finished my contract. So, for the last few weeks, I’ve been working as a writer/marketer/consultant for this startup. It’s basically a restaurant app that finds your “food personality” and recommends restaurants to you based off that personality. It’s called MangoPlate, and it’s still beta, but available for download. Currently, it only covers restaurants in Seoul, but we hope to expand to other cities in the future. Download the app or like the Facebook page if you get the chance. It would make this writer a very happy boy.

Much, much more to report, but there is so little time. Get back at you, soon.

Much love everybody.

Food Guy

Should We Fear North Korea's Pudgy Dictator?

Hello Fearful Friends!

So, a lot of people have been messaging me these days, talking about how our gnarly neighbors to the North are gearing up to reign some sort of nuclear apocalypse down on our side of the DMZ and that I should probably get the hell out of South Korea before I’m vaporized.

Heavy stuff.

And while we all know there’s nothing I love more than attention, let me assure you, oh concerned friends and family, there is nothing to worry about. Now, I’m not a soothsayer (although I do like dressing up like one), it’s just I’ve got a good feeling about this one. How could I possibly be so confident in these tumultuous times? I’m glad you asked.

This is Kim Jong-un, the “Supreme Leader” of North Korea.

Handsome dude, right? He got his looks from Dad, a guy you might remember. He answered to Kim Jong-il.

If you don’t remember him, the late Kim Jong-il is famous for having overly eccentric and expensive tastes in alcohol, owning a video taped recording of every Michael Jordan game ever played, letting his people starve to death while he ate extravagant meals, and quitting golf because he got a hole in one on every single hole in the same game. Oh, and he’s part god, which helps explain the last part.

But now we’ve got Kim Jong-un, and he’s a bit of a wild card, right? I’m not so sure. I think, like his father and his grandfather before him, he’s going to carry on that family legacy of being that weird, short, pudgy kid you didn’t like in your homeroom class. You know the guy I’m talking about. When he wasn’t falling and “accidentally” touching that girl’s boobs on the way down, he was sitting alone in the back of the class muttering to himself under his breath. You knew he never had the balls to get into a fight, but that didn’t stop him from shoulder-checking you in the hallways. The nerve. Especially after you were nice and lent him that pencil in geometry that he never gave it back (not that you wanted it after he was done with it). No, you didn’t like this dude one bit. No one did. But no one messed with him either, because honestly, it wasn’t worth it. Sure, you could kick his ass. Your little sister could probably kick his ass. But you couldn’t do it, because partially you felt bad for him and partially because you knew he was going to fight dirty. Filthy, even. You’d win, but it was best to just leave him alone in the back of the class, muttering to himself about stabbing you with that pencil you lent him. Creepy ass dude.

You see where I’m going with this? Or did you read the first couple sentences and be like, “Foley. We get it. You’re making an analogy” and skip down to this part? Either way, my point stands. North Korea isn’t going to do anything. How am I so sure? Two reasons: history and logic.

History: North Korea and South Korea haven’t not been at war ever. Seriously. Even after the Korean Armistice Agreement in 1953, they never declared peace, only the lines that divide the South and the North. They’ve technically been at war for the last sixty years.

In this technical war-time period, there has been only one consistency. Kim Jong-un, his father Kim Jong-il, and his father Kim Il-sung, have all made the exact same statement over and over and over again.

“We are going to make Seoul burn to the ground.”

They have yet to set a date for this burning.

Now, I could bore you with all the political back-and-forth from the time of the Armistice Agreement OR I could tell you the shit that’s gone down in the last three or so years. I’m going to go with the latter, as otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll stop reading. Plus, chances are, if you’re reading this, you were either alive for these ones…or a really, really smart baby.

March 26^th, 2010: North Korea allegedly fires a torpedo, sinking the Cheonan, a South Korean navy corvette. Forty-six men die. This goes down right around the time I was thinking about moving to Korea to teach English.

November 10^th, 2010: North Korea fires 170 artillery shells on Yeonpyeong Island, killing four South Koreans (two soldiers and two citizens) and injuring nineteen others. South Korea returns fire dealing unknown damage. I have been in Korea just over two months at this juncture in time.  

April 15^th, 2012: North Korea tests a long range missile. People seem nervous until it totally breaks apart and crashes into the sea. Score!

February 12^th, 2013: North Korea conducts an underground nuclear test, the third in the last decade. We could detect the tremors in Seoul.

You see where I’m going with this? I’m not a political analyst, but I think this is where you have turn to logic. Everyone’s on edge right now. Why? Has anything even nearly as bad as some of the aforementioned happened? No. We’re trying to slap some sanctions on North Korea and they’re having a hissy fit. Basically, all that’s happening is that they’re flexing right now, and we’re flexing back, because half of politics is flexing, and that’s why it infuriates me so.

So if it’s not a big deal, why is everyone freaking out? I am going to place the blame solely on our friends, Big News Media. News media is a bigger attention whore than me, which is saying quite a lot. There have been no mass shootings in America lately (thank God), so people forgot all about the gun control hot button and are now shifting their concern to the North Korea hot button. After all, nothing gets ratings more than either making people scared or angry, and if you really want those big numbers, both. If you don't believe me, take a look at this.

Yes, there are whispers about North Korea pulling some shady missile stuff this Wednesday. If I had to guess, I’d say, yeah, Kim Jong-un might do something. But, while we’re playing the guessing game, I’m also going to guess he’s hesitant to do anything significant. That’s not to play down these small tragedies of Cheonan and Yeonpyeong, as they are tragedies, but they are not acts of war. And so far, nothing Kim Jong-un and his silly regime have done are either. Not yet. And the smart money says, he won’t make a real move for a long, long time, if ever. The reason being, if he does, he will lose the support of China, the only real ally North Korea has, and will be subsequently decimated by the United States and South Korea for his shenanigans.

But hell, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re planning something big and Wednesday morning, Seoul will be blasted to smithereens and go up in a cloud of dust. Hey, I’ve lived a fulfilling in awesome life. My only regret will be all the lovely ladies of the world that will never get to meet Lorenzo Van Foleyhorn.

But I don’t think that’ll be the case. I think everything’s gonna be juuuuusssssstttt fine.

Much love everybody,

Confident Guy

Happy Unbelievably Freezing Weather,

And welcome to another Foley in Korea. It’s winter time, boys and girls, but for all you lovers out there, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Soon, everyone will be rushing around to get that amazing present for that special someone. Well, party people, look no further. I’ve got you the ultimate present, for a man or a woman, straight out of Korea, high-quality, built to last, and best of all, everyone can use it.

Here’s one more angle.

Now if it’s not totally obvious what this sleek, silver invention is, you’ve clearly never seen a ReFa wrinkle-reducer. My co-worker ordered this the other day and swears by it. She uses it every day. How does it work, you ask? Well, you simply grab the silver handle and slowly rub the balls all over your face…

Seriously, I can’t even write this. It totally looks like Silver Surfer’s penis and no one in Korea seems to make that connection. The Americans in my office were the only ones who fathomed a sliver of perversion from this. The moment she took it out of the box, we lost it laughing no one knew what the hell was going on. 

How’s that for a cultural difference?

But that’s Korea for you. Even after so long in this country, cultural norms still surprise the hell out of me. Like Christmas, for instance. In Korea, Christmas is actually a couple’s holiday, something along the lines of Valentine’s Days in the States. Now, while it’s not any more devoid of the birth of Jesus than American Christmas, our preconceived notions of what our version of Christmas will make what I’m about to tell you sound very strange. But, as it turns out, Christmas Eve is literally the best day of the year to pick up chicks.

No joke. Think about it. In Korea, it’s got the same basis of Valentine’s Day, a day for couples, but it’s a higher profile holiday. Not to mention, it’s right at the end of the year, and for all the the hyper-desperate women who need to start the New Year with someone special, this is their last real chance to hunt. Combined with the long, cold nights, it creates the perfect storm for irrational romantic decisions. I have friends who tell stories of going to the clubs and literally having to pry girls off of them. Hyperbole, maybe, but it does make a man think.

Speaking of cold nights, Seoul got pounded with snow not too long ago. While it turned the industrial megacity into a winter wonderland, it made me aware of the unhealthy Korean obsession with umbrellas. Koreans use umbrellas in every type of weather. They use it in the rain to protect against water, in the sun to protect against tanning and wrinkles, and in the snow to…what? Protect against the snow? Seriously, what the hell is that? Forgive this writer for his ignorant culture viewpoints, but there is something about snow umbrellas that is unholy and wrong. There, I said it. I’m not taking it back.

On the other side of the coin, I found myself pleasantly disgusted with the Korean foreigner population just recently as well. You see, on the whole, Korean people are quite fit. While obesity is on the rise do to the influx of American fast food, the percentage of overweight people in this nation is but a fraction what it is in the States. This translates to clothes being built with a thin, lanky body-type in mind. As you can imagine, I have no problem with this condition, but if I did end up putting on a few pounds and finding myself on the girthier end of the spectrum, I would have no idea where to go clothes shopping. Sizes in Korea run small, and the biggest thing I’ve found for T-shirts is an XL, which is the equivalent of a large in the States. That is…until I went Christmas Shopping. I came across the one and only Harley Davidson Dealership in Korea. This is the only place in Korea I’ve ever found that features the rare XXL and unheard of XXXL sizes. Now, one can only draw two conclusions from this. Either the Harley Store is catered to foreigners, or Harley Davidson’s somehow just seem to attract morbidly obese people in general. Either way, I find it quite funny.

And while we’re speaking of things that are funny because they’re massive, I recently went to a Noryangjin, the largest Korean fish market. For any of you looking to come to Korea, you have to come here. Even if you don’t like seafood, the experience alone is completely worth it. It is, in essence, a fish market—as in people selling fish. While that probably doesn’t exactly grab your interest cord and shake it for all that its worth, when you start to see what qualifies as “fish,” it becomes a lot more fun. Sea cucumbers, live octopus, and sea slugs are just some of the tasty treats you can purchase at this candy shop of underwater eatables, but the truly impressive thing is how stupidly big everything is here. King grabs that are the size of a three-year-old boy. You can see mussels as big as my head and shrimp the length of a billy club. Some of the tentacles are well over five feet in length. People, welcome to flavor country.

The best part is that there are restaurants connected right to the market, which means food never tasted so fresh…although the killing method isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. The sellers have these tools, something like a half club, half pick axe. The former they use first to stun the fish and the latter is for the deathblow through the eye. You’d think, after years of working there, they’d be better about their second hit placement, but sometimes it takes a little while, and it’s a bit gruesome as the fish flops around on the floor while the old dude with the axe tries to puncture its brain. Again, though, the taste is out of this world.

The last few months have been exciting in Korean news, as well. North Korea test launched a missile that made it further than Japan. The resulting implications of this are that they have the capability of sending a nuke a considerable distance with considerable accuracy. From what I heard when I was back in the States, the American news was very vocal about this…but that’s because American news loves sensationalizing stories. This was, for all intents and purposes, a pissing contest, and North Korea was simply trying to show that they could pee much farther than we thought they could pee. So no worries, my friends and family.

Likewise, Korea recently elected its first female president. Now, I’m all for women kickin ass and taking names in the political world, but Park Geun-hye, the newly elected leader, is a bit errrrrr…sketchy. To understand, let’s look back at the 1970’s and 80’s in Korea.

Following the years after the Korean War, Korean politics got pretty dark. The “democratic” government was really just wave after wave of military dictators, and they hated freedom with every fiber of their being. Gwangju, my former home, was the biggest opponent to this movement, protesting and fighting for freedom. Many died during the May 18^th, 1980 uprising in Gwangju, though this existed as a catalyst for change and ultimately led to free elections in Korea.

Fast forwarding a bit, Park Geun-hye is the daughter of one of those dictators. While I am not saying that this means she will be the violent dictator her father was, Koreans are awful quick to forget. At least, most of Korea. Gwangju and the Jeollado Province (the liberal part of Korea) are all horseshit over the results. Also, Park Geun-hye’s got a bit of George W. Bush syndrome, she got the job because of her daddy and doesn’t her qualification don’t really stack up. Perhaps strangest of all, in a country that is largely sexist, Park hasn’t really made any significant push for women’s rights. But hey, that’s probably why she got elected.

If it helps, men in Korea are getting far more in touch with their feminine side. BB Cream, a cosmetic I had been ignorant of prior to my arrival in Seoul, is totally man-friendly these days. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s cover-up, but now, it’s cool for men to do it. Kinda. On YouTube today, while in between video compilations of people falling down escalators, I saw an advertisement by Korea’s favorite celebrity, Psy, advertising BB Cream. Judge where you made judge, but in the end, it’s a total power move. Psy and BB Cream are now Korea’s two top exports, and this year, Korea is set to shatter its record breaking $4.3 billion dollar export record in 2011. This doesn’t really affect me on a day-to-day basis, except when I’m at the gym. Dudes wear BB cream there. It’s like, come on, bro, it’s the gym.

But, I shouldn’t judge things of such little significance. Shallow judgments lead to segregation, and segregation is bad. Korea, like everywhere else in this world, already has enough segregation. Racism, sexism, occupationalism, etc.  are all rampant in this nation, but Korea takes it all a step further as they segregate in…different ways. Three in particular come to mind:

1.)    American Military—There’s not a whole lot of love for American soldiers in Korea. While the vast majority of the soldiers here are just normal guys (and some girls) who just want to kick it on the weekends and stay out of trouble, the others ruin it for the lot. The term douchebag gets tossed around a lot these days, but these soldiers really epitomize what it means to douche it up hard. That’s not to say the Americans working in schools and businesses don’t start a fight now and then, but chances are, they’re not a massive, Kansas farm boy who has been trained to kill by the U.S. government. Seriously, some of these guys look like they eat rocks for breakfast, and when they get out of control, it’s akin to the Incredible Hulk. It’s no surprise that bars and clubs all over Seoul have signs that read “Military Personnel Not Admitted.”

2.)    Koreans—This one’s just weird. There are seven casinos in Korea. Koreans can go to one of them. I’m gonna let that one swim around in your head for a minute. Of the seven casinos in Korea, Koreans can go to only one. There are numerous theories as to why this is the case, all of which border on racism. This author endorses none of these theories, but will present them to you because he finds the reasoning awesome. 

·         Korean casinos were open in the past and it caused what was deemed as “social problems.” No further explanation was given.

·         Korean casinos are corrupt and want to steal money from Americans, Chinese, Japanese, because they hate anyone who is not Korean.

·         Casinos are irrational, wild, flashy, and risky. As this goes against the Korean ideals of rationality, stoicism, humility, and good-decision making, Korean people lose their damn minds in the casinos…along with all of their money.

Whatever the case may be, it’s bizarre.

3.) Hookers—One thing “Oppa Gangnam Style” fails to mention is the multitude of prostitution in Korea. A lot of dudes go to prostitutes in this country. I couldn’t find the exact statistic, but ballpark? It’s a lot. Businessmen go in droves after company parties, and it’s not hard to find one if you’re looking for it. The reason for this is a combination of the dated values of a patriarchal system of oppression and the fact that Korean prostitutes look good. They are not your run-of-the-mill toothless corner wenches who haven’t showered in weeks. They are more of your high-end-call-girl-variety who have been surged-out to perfection. Not that, you know, I’ve actually done anything with them...really I haven’t. I promise. WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?

The fact of the matter is, while most women work for an organization, others are freelance, trying to land a rich dude to pay them a stupid amount of money in return for some hanky-panky. In my last post, I mentioned how the online dating community is saturated with such freelancers. But it’s not just the internet community. Last weekend, though, I was in a tight-ass, upscale bar, where I noticed a hilarious sign. They’re so common in this joint called Glam, there’s actually a sign that reads “No Prostitutes.”

I say, where’s the love?

I apologize for not keeping up on my blog game, but it’s because of the sheer business of my life. I have been doing a freelance gig for CultureM Magazine, reviewing restaurants through writing and video. You can read my articles/watch my videos here and here. You can also view the model after party video I attended (yes, that’s right) through CultureM by clicking here. If you watch closely, you can see a half-second close-up of Fan Doley dancing with a model at 42 seconds in. Yes, I’m a very, very lucky boy.

I’ve also been editing my book, a long and infuriating process that involves more Scotch drinking than I care to admit. I’m about a quarter of the way done, so hopefully soon, I’ll have something I can start harassing publishing companies with. And, you know, if you guys want to read it, you’ll be able to.

Much love everyone. Know that I miss you all, and hope you’re all killin’ it, in any and all areas of life.

-42 Second Guy

Hello My Loving Family,

If you couldn’t tell by now, I kinda enjoy my life in this Land of Kimchi. However, it’s easy to love this place as a foreigner. We get to circumvent a lot of the pressure that comes with being an actual Korean person. The pressures of school, work, relationships—it seems like everything here is designed to crush your soul into a convenient little cube. Perhaps the greatest of these pressures, however, is that of Korean parents. Pressure in what, you ask? In everything.

Let’s start with marriage. In Korea, people rarely get married early or late in life, almost everyone gets hitched right around thirty years old, plus or minus two years. You know how American women talk about how “their biological clock is ticking” and it sends them into a hormonal tailspin where they become so man hungry and vulnerable that they almost can’t function? In Korea, it’s even worse.

I’ll tell you a quirky little anecdote from my own life to accentuate this point. When I was a fresh-faced college grad who had just moved to Korea, I was out at a karaoke on a Wednesday night. I had just finished belting out the greatest version of “Living on a Prayer” Korea ever heard, when a cute Korean girl approached me from across the room. Let’s call her Julie. After I brief conversation, I deciphered two essential details:

1.)    She had a boyfriend

2.)    She had cute friends she could introduce me to

Clearly, the second point appealed to me more. A week later, I ended up going out for drinks with Julie’s friend, a girl we’ll call Sally. Sally was shy and had received a fair amount of plastic surgery, but was cute and spoke decent English, so I gave her a shot. The problem was, whenever I asked her how old she was, she would always answer “age is not important.” Coming from a society where age determines respect, I found this answer to be suspect. But, she didn’t look like she could be much older than me, so I didn’t let it bother me.

Ultimately, the relationship fizzled out. I got over it, but the question of Sally’s age lingered in my mind. Then, almost eight months from the time we stopped dating, I was out with my kumdo brothers eating spicy octopus when I ran into Julie, the girl who had originally set up Sally and I. We got to talking, and the conversation went something like this:

Julie: Hey, Dan. Wow, you look really handsome.

Me: Yeah, I get that a lot. Hey, I never got a chance to thank you for setting me up with Sally. Sorry things didn’t work out.

Julie: Oh that’s okay, it happens. I’m sure you have no problem meeting girls with those muscles.

Me: Thanks, but you should probably calm down. You have a boyfriend.

Julie: Sorry, it’s just tough.

Me: I get that a lot. Hey, there was something I always wanted to ask you.

Julie: Anything for you, Dan.

Me: So, Sally would never tell me how old she was. She would always dodge the question.

Julie: Really? Do you want to know how old she is?

Me: Absolutely.

Julie: She’s thirty.

Me: Daaaammmnnn. Didn’t see that one coming.

Julie: Yeah, she looks a lot younger.

Me: What’s she up to these days?

Julie: Oh, she’s married.

Boom.

When I discovered this, my wheels started turning. If we assume she met the guy the day after we stopped dating AND we assume was married the day before I met Julie, their relationship, from inception to marriage was slightly less than eight months, and most likely way shorter than that. Or maybe she was two-timing me. The point is, when I tell this story to Korean people, though, they’re not surprised. Spending the rest of your life with someone becomes more and more spontaneous the closer you get to thirty.

I think the cause of this phenomenon that many unmarried men and women still live with their parents. Hell, most Korean girls have curfews well into their late-twenties. This is the reason why every girl I’ve dated in this country is fantastic at lying to their parents. Still though, this explains how marriage is, ironically, a kind of independence.

Even if you find the love of your life, it’s not that easy. They don’t only need to be good enough for you, they need to be good enough for Mom and Dad. Marrying someone your parents don’t approve of doesn’t really fly out here. Sometimes, parents veto the marriage for perfectly valid reasons. Sometimes, though, marriages get the thumbs-down for…psychic reasons.

Koreans are superstitious by nature. When big decisions arise, it’s off to the fortune teller. Using the art of shamanism, they can tell anything about you, from how many kids you’ll have to what your job will be in ten years. This isn’t just some random palm reading—there are entire schools of shamanism unique to Korea. Kwan-sang fortune tellers, for example, specialize in reading facial features. They determine future actions based on factors like how close you eyes are together or how high your forehead is. The logic is that the decisions you make help sculpt your face, so therefore your face is a guide to your future actions. Interestingly enough, some people opt to get plastic surgery, not to make themselves prettier per say, but rather to enhance their Kwan-sang appearance. Plastic surgery, in essence, to change their destiny. Weird, wild stuff.

This is not to be taken lightly. Recently, I knew a man who asked his girlfriend to marry him. His parents, in Korean tradition, went to a psychic after learning this. The psychic predicted their son would be divorced within three years if he married the woman. The parents immediately tried to veto the marriage, leading shit-storm of massive proportions within the family.

Yes, this is the fourteenth most powerful economic country in the world, but old habits die hard. Not that this author is trying to discredit the validity of psychics. Who’s to say they can’t really tell the future? Koreans even acknowledge there are a lot of fakes, but some truly have the ability to see into the future. Still, though. Calling off your son’s wedding because of something a stranger on the street told you? That’s cold, baby. Ice cold.

Now let’s go to my favorite topic, women. As we all know, Korea is the plastic surgery capital of the world, but why? What is it about this region of the globe that instills this need to go under that beautifying knife? While doing some research on that very topic, I came across this little gem: “Twenty-five percent of Korean mothers who have daughters between the ages of twelve and sixteen suggested plastic surgery to their daughter.” Wow. Thanks, Mom. Sadly, this doesn’t surprise me, nor does this statistic: “81.5 percent of women between twenty-five and twenty-nine felt the need for cosmetic surgery.”

Numbers don’t lie, baby. Approximately half the adult females of Korea have received plastic surgery, many of them unnecessarily. The root cause is this omnipotent social pressure. And if you can’t buy into these bogus statistics, check this. I’ve dated my fair share of Korean hotties and all of them have considered plastic surgery at one point or another. A couple even admitted to getting it. One of the girls who hadn’t was constantly berated by her aunt to get her eyes and nose done, despite the fact she was perfectly lovely. As sick as it is, though, it comes from a place of love. They want their daughters to be successful, and in Korea, just like most of the world, pretty people just get farther in life.

It’s not just with looks. Pressure extends into the realm of education too. Korean parents spend an average of one thousand dollars per child per month on private academies from the time they’re six years old. What makes this even more impressive is that the average salary in Korea is less than two thousand dollars per month. You can imagine why little Billy Lee isn’t so much encouraged to “find his passion” as get perfect scores on every single test he takes. And if he falls short, well, that’s why God invented corporal punishment.

But it’s not all psychics, savage beatings and bank-breaking debt. Korean company life has taught me the joys of 회식 (pronounced “hway-shik”). This is the the pressure of the forced-drinking variety. 회식 translates to something like “company food,” the idea being that workers and bosses go out together to eat. In reality, everyone just ends up getting sloppy drunk. Or, at least, I do. The older company men at work have really taken a shining to me, especially the one we call “Soju Guy.” I have yet to go out for a 회식where my memory stays intact. The Koreans actually have a term for this, called “필름이 끊겼다” which translates to “My film got cut.”

In addition to the pressures of family and work, there’s the societal pressure to speak English. Koreans spend an unnatural amount of time studying English. A common ground for such practice “language exchanges.” These are weekly coffee shop events, where foreigners and Koreans go to chill out, sip on lattes and practice various languages. Every time I go, I encounter so many Korean college students, trying like hell to master the English language, and I applaud their efforts. Likewise, I encounter so many foreigner dudes there with the sole purpose of picking up a Korean college girl. Scummy, yes, but also highly effective.

Societal pressure extends even further, out to the dating world. Korea is a country built for couples, and having a boyfriend or girlfriend is kind of a status symbol. Innovations have been made to make this process easier, including a slew of mobile application helping people to meet up and go on dates together. I recently downloaded one called “Badoo” just for the hell of it. While browsing through the list of girls, I found one who was actually pretty cute. Now, despite the fact that this author believes online dating is totally lame, he was a little curious that night and decided to message said cutie in Korean. The following is the translated exchange:

Me: Hey

Badoo Girl: Where are you?

Me: I’m in Itaewon. You?

Badoo Girl: Itaewon’s kinda far, but I can go. Do you want a paid meeting?

Me (trying to understand what a paid meeting is): How much is a paid meeting?

Badoo Girl: Eighty dollars for the short meeting, Sixteen for the long.

Me: So you don’t just want to get drinks?

In case if you missed it, she was a hooker. I tried it out with another few girls, same result. First question is always: “Where are you?” As it turns out, Badoo is essentially an extensive online network of prostitution, and it’s not the only one. Sure, there are real girls there too, but a lot of them (especially the knockouts) are just trying to make a little scratch. Lesson learned: smoking hot girls don’t need a dating service, but some of them do need money.

However, I’m going to take a wild guess and say she didn’t really look like this…

We foreigners are sometimes victim to this Korean pressure as well, even when we’re not aware of it. English academies, where most foreigners work, often put teachers through hell. A year ago, when my replacement teacher came in from America, they constantly criticized his teaching and fired him several times in the first week. In reality, it wasn’t because his teaching was bad, but rather because his hair was too long, which made them fear he was a homosexual. Another dude I met (the only dude in Seoul I’ve met from Boston) likewise got fired from his English Academy after one week of work. The fake reason? His manager “didn’t like his style.” The real reason? He couldn’t speak Korean. His manager believed this might cause a rift in their communication, seeing as he, the manager of an English academy, couldn’t speak English.

I talk a lot about Korea, but it’s always good to know that the rest of East Asia is just as wacky. Some of you may have seen the news about the Chinese man sued his wife for being ugly. Yes, this really happened. 

Here’s how it went down:

A man marries a woman who he finds stunning. Life is good. Then she gets pregnant, and life couldn’t be better. Then the baby comes out and everything goes to hell. Why? Because the baby is really, really ugly. Like, circus ugly. So ugly, in fact, that the man had this to say:

“Our daughter was incredibly ugly, to the point it horrified me.”

Being a good-looking man, he naturally assumed her of cheating on him. After all, it was the only possible way such a disturbingly ugly child could be born to his wife. If only that were the case. In a classic 21^st-century twist, it turns out his wife had once been quite ugly herself. However, after undergoing over one hundred thousand dollars in plastic surgery, she turned into a beauty queen. With the truth discovered, the man rescinded his accusation, and then sued her for “marriage under false pretenses.” He ultimately won, and was awarded the equivalent of her plastic surgery costs. That poor kid.

Shown here, the wife, before and after.

And if that story doesn’t warm your soul, here’s a treat from the Land of the Rising Sun:

To say the Japanese are a bunch of insatiable sex-perverts would be a horribly racist thing to say, and this author would never be caught dead pushing such smut. Switching topics for a minute, Japan recently hosted its annual Charity Breast Squeeze Event for the prevention of AIDS. Really, here's the link. As part of the “Erotica will Save the World” campaign, ten adult film actresses volunteered to allow their sweater cows to be squeezed for donations to charity. The event was wildly successful this year. Many participants, after donating and squeezing, got right back in line to donate and squeeze again. Disgusting or genius? You be the judge.

Side note: there was another booth at this charity function known as the “Masturbation Marathon.” No further description was provided.

And as long as we’re off topic, let’s talk about food. As you know, I am always in search for bizarre fare from far off lands. But, in my heart of hearts, I’m really just a freedom-loving American boy who loves a good burger. Finding American food in Korea isn’t hard. Finding good American food in Korea is almost impossible. Most places are just filled with noobs peddling flavorless, bastardized mini-burgers or salads covered in corn and sauerkraut for some terrible reason. Such places leave me feeling cheated and used, like a rebound girl who thought she found the one. There is, however, one place in Seoul that is the exception to this rule.

Located on Apgu Rodeo, just above the NBA store is a gem known as Salt n’ Butter. I mean, sure, it’s got a friendly staff, open kitchen, good music, all the elements of good atmosphere, but if you’re anything like me, for you, it all boils down to taste. So, what about the food?

What would say to peach salads with goat cheese that eat like a meal, spicy buffalo wings served with French fries dripping in home made chili, and the only authentic pesto pasta in all of Seoul? Yes, it has all of these, but where Salt n’ Butter really shines is the burgers. Before Salt n’ Butter, I never thought I would find a burger that would rival an all-American patty, let alone transcend it. The true testament to this is in the care that goes into every burger. The owner built a smokehouse and personally smokes all the bacon himself. If that’s not commitment, I know not the definition of this word.

My latest addiction at Salt n’ Butter is the spicy chicken sandwich, which, I kid you not, is the fattest chicken sandwich I have ever eaten. Seriously, it looks like they stuffed an entire chicken in between two toasted buns, dripping in hot sauce and slaw.

Dear God, it’s beautiful. Ever since I left America, there’s a hole inside me I’ve been trying to fill, and I’m pretty sure this burger is the answer.

You know people, life out here is truly a roller coaster ride. There are highs and lows, adventure and longing, decision and indecision. It’s not all delicious burgers and breast squeezing. Sometimes, I am riddled with doubt. It’s not hard, being away for this long from the people I love to not sometimes wonder if I had made a mistake coming out here. Not that it hasn’t been amazing. Surely, it has. But with every decision we make, we embrace one world and destroy another. My mind sometimes thinks about those worlds that never existed, had I spent the last two years in Boston, or gone to grad school, or joined the Peace Core.

But then, something usually comes along and reminds me that I’m on the right path, at least for the time being. The topic of this blog was Korean pressure, especially that of parents. But it’s true around the world, parents put pressure on their children, whether they want to or not. When you become a parent, you go a little insane. There’s no avoiding it. You have to be crazy to devote your life to completely taking care of another. That’s the beautiful part about it.

That’s why I’m happy to announce that my Korean brother Alex and his lovely wife Helena have just given birth to a very healthy and very awesome baby boy. I never imagined be an uncle, especially the uncle to a Korean baby, but like I said, life has a way of coming along and showing us whether or not we’re on the right path.

So, to my nephew, Dan Yu Kim (김단유), thank you, and welcome to the world, little man.

-Uncle Dan

Foley Gangnam Style

Hello Lovers of Gangnam,

There is a matter of grave importance that must be addressed before we begin. It is a topic that is neither pleasant, nor happy. I fought this with every morsel of power in my being, but sometimes, one must know when to relinquish one’s stubbornness and embrace the inevitable. I’m referring, of course, to Psy and his megaton-bomb of a hit, “Oppa Gangnam Style.”

For those of you that have been living under a rock, here is the video:

 And it’s sweeping the world like some sort of Ebola Dance Virus. The other night in Seoul an impromptu Gangnam-style concert brought in a crowd of 50,000 onlookers. I saw the Today Show coverage with an endless mob of New Yorkers all dancing in unison to Psy’s siren tune. I mean, the man just got signed by Justin Bieber’s manager. I can’t go a day on Facebook without seeing a mention of it. People…I just don’t get it. I’m not saying it’s a bad song. The first time I heard it, I was like, “Yeah, that’s kinda fun.” But…how is it blowing up like this?

As a side note, the meaning behind “Oppa Gangnam Style” is in reference to the place, known as “Gangnam,” the upscale, hyper-snobby shopping/eating/partying area located centrally in Seoul. It’s a mockery of the shallow, materialistic mindset of both the mega-rich and those who pretend to be so strutting around Gangnam. It really is quite clever. But still…I…I just don’t get it.

And apparently, neither do the Japanese, who are boycotting the release of his song. As it turns out, while the Japanese normally love Kpop, they can’t stand Psy. The explanation? The Japanese only dig Kpop because the singers are so pretty…and Psy just doesn’t cut it for them. I expect that out of a horny teenage boy, but an entire country? For shame, Japan.

But enough of my hating. Welcome back to the infamous Foley in Korea blog. Between the last post and this one, my two year anniversary in this lovely country came and passed, and now I am on year three. Crazy, yes?

Sometimes I fear that this country has started to lose some of its mojo for me, that the novelty has worn off and there is nothing to awe me anymore. Whenever such a feeling comes over me, I always take a walk at night, and my love for this land is always refreshed by this beautiful sight.

No, this is not some homeless guy. This is a man who most likely has a wife and kids, a fairly good paying job, and maybe even a vacation house in Jeju. But yes, he is sleeping on the street, above one of the subway street vents. For the record, this is on the main road of Itaewon, one of the biggest districts in Seoul. I snapped this on my way home, at about four in the morning. This is not a rare sight. Korean men, after consuming large quantities of adult beverages, often find themselves a cozy little street corner to pass out in. Why? Because taxis are too expensive and the streets are just so damn comfortable. The astonishing thing is that nothing ever happens to these people.

In America, Thailand, France, any other country, if you pass out in the street, you’ve already given up on your wallet and your shoes. You just have to pray no one is going to snag your organs while they’re at it. In Korea, the drunken street-sleeper only fear upon waking is that his wife is going to castrate him. Here’s a few more candids of said phenomenon.

 For these and more beautiful shots, check out the website devoted to Korean dudes sleeping on the side of the street at http://blackoutkorea.blogspot.kr/

 This level of cushiness isn’t just confined to narcoleptic partiers, though. The other day, I lost my wallet. Now, normally this would be upsetting, as it was made of alligator skin and a gift from my lovely Korean sugar mama…but then I remembered, “Oh wait. I’m in Korea.” It was waiting for me at the store I had left it at, money and cards intact. Now, it’s true that not everyone outside of Korea is a soulless wallet ganker. Hell, you might have encountered the same thing in America, finding your wallet safe and sound in the store clerk’s hands. Here’s the difference: in America, you assume it’s gone. You drive to the store in a pissed-off fear that someone is using your credit cards to buy a new diamond tiara. In Korea, you strut with pride, knowing that alligator skin is just chilling in that store, waiting for daddy. Hell, I’ve dated girls who have lost wallets in taxis, and then the next day, the taxi will drive to their house to deliver it.

Ah, Korean girls. Can I go one blog post without mentioning them? Of course not. But they are a dangerous creature—the black hair, the long legs, the seductive eyes—all combine to form a man-slaughtering she-beast that shows no mercy. Perhaps the most deadly weapon this she-beast has is the destructive force known as “aegyo” (애교). Aegyo, in a nutshell, is the Korean word for women acting cute in order to attain things from men. It walks a fine line between being adorable and annoying as hell, but the women who can successfully wield this weapon are like sexy cyanide. The most common practice of this is with the word “oppa” (오빠), And yes, to answer your next question, the very same meaning as “Oppa Gangnam Style”.) Oppa directly translates to “older brother,” but is in reality closer to something like “baby” or “honey.” Usually it’s used in the context of “buy me that” or “do this for me.” But it is more than just a word. It is also a complicated manipulation of speech, to sound overly bubbly and helpless, and, if executed properly, melts me like a stick of butter thrown into the sun. For a cartoonish and goofy depiction of this culturally acceptable seduction, refer to the video below.

(It's way hotter in real life. I promise.) 

Women are not the only dictators men in Korea have to deal with, however. Every single Korean man must devote at least two years of his life to the military. That’s the rule. There are no exceptions…unless, of course, they have some sort of serious medical condition that prohibits them from service…or something that fits under the umbrella of “serious medical condition.” You see where I’m going with this. There is a group of Korean men who are the modern equivalent of those American dudes in the sixties who were chopping of their pinky toes to get out of going to Vietnam. The only difference is the Koreans have got it down to a science. There are actual online guides for dodging military service using the least painful methods possible. One guy developed a system where, every day when leaving his apartment, he would jump down each and every step of his apartment building. He did this every day for three years. The result somehow altered the bone structure of his knees to the point he was no longer “a viable applicant” for the Korean Army, despite the fact he could walk run just fine. Or, as another of my friends is doing, you can just leave the country every two months, thus avoiding your call to boot camp for the viable excuse of “being out of the country.”

Totally unrelated, but the other day, at the office, I received an interesting comment from a coworker. After I got a hair cut and a shave, a guy in my office said to me:

“Hey man, you look shiny today.”

And it was true…I did look shiny. It got me thinking about language, though, and how differently we understand the world around based off words.

Also unrelated, the other day I discovered that one of the best known red light districts in Seoul is literally a stone’s throw away from my apartment. It is the infamous region of Itaewon known as “Hooker Hill.” Here, a man can be propositioned for sex at 9:30AM on a Sunday morning. Wow, the service!

(It's about as swanky as it gets.)

One more element of randomness before I get to the point of this blog. Far be it for me to call myself a man of culture, but I recently bore witness to one of the best films I have ever seen. Dark, hilarious, mind-bending, action packed, disturbing, and beautiful are just some of the words to describe the Award-Winning Korean film “Oldboy” – a story of vengeance. I highly recommend watching it, especially as the American remake, directed by Spike Lee and starring Josh Brolin, is set to come out next year. That way, you can be one of those people who think they’re better than everyone else because they’ve already seen the original. Fair warning, though, it’s for the faint of heart.

(Classic scene from Oldboy)

The real reason I wanted to bring all you here is for a discussion on North Korea. In a worldwide poll, North Korean citizens score lowest in terms of personal freedom. This means that that Cubans, the Sudanese, and Iraqis are all way freer than North Korea. That’s really saying something. Will this ever change? I don’t know. Last year, such talk would seem insane, with Kim Jong-Il in power. This is a man whose people were starving to death while he was invented his own version of basketball. Like…really. The man created a version of basketball which is, by all measures, insane. It completely revises the point system into something far more swag. Here’s the breakdown:

Dunk: 3 points

Three pointer nothing-but-net: 4 points

Missing a free throw: Negative 1 point

Any shot in the last three seconds: 8 points

…I actually kinda like it.

But now he’s dead. And with him out, his son, the very young Kim Jong-Un, is stepping into power, and there are some changes being made. For instance, he recently built a water amusement park for his people. Unlike the creepy, unnaturally happy people you usually see on the news, these people actually looked happy. He is also allowing women to wear pants, because evidently they were not allowed to do so before. And, finally, pizza is now allowed in North Korea. Thank God.

They’re also finally accepting South Korean Aid again. What this means, I know not. But I’ve been learning more and more about it with time, as I recently began tutoring North Korean defectors. The process is very surprising. I was warned, prior to this tutoring, that it would take place in a police station, and I was not allowed to ask them questions about life in North Korea. Taking pictures of them was forbidden, as any photographic evidence of their existence in South Korea could spell death or jail time for their families still living in North Korea.

As expected, I was slightly nervous stepping into that police station. After all, there was some inevitable heavy shit ahead of me.

Then I got there and they were so normal. I was talking with one high school girl who kept bitching about having too much homework. Another girl was telling me how she had just started dating this guy and couldn’t tell if he was a playboy or not. It was shocking how benign their lives were. The icing on this uber-normal cake was the conversation I overheard between a North Korean dude and his English Tutor:

English Tutor: What kind of movies do you like?

North Korean Dude: War movies are my favorite.

English Tutor: You ever see “Pearl Harbor?”

North Korean Dude: Hey man, I’m not gay.

It’s like I’m just taking a walk in Southie. The sheer normalness of these people who once lived in North Korea is so refreshing and happy. I guess it proves that, if the human person is anything, he is an adaptable beast.

Last thing, people, and that is mission accomplished. From January of this year, until now, I’ve been working on a novel about a young man living in Korea; his experiences with food and culture and girls and life. I know, it’s a pretty far out idea. But just last week I finished the first draft. It’s 120,000 words. For reference, that’s slightly longer than the third Harry Potter book. But, it’s rough, a lot of it is crap, and it needs some revising for sure. But, in a few months, after I wax-on, wax-off it into something prettier, I’m going to need some poor souls to suffer through it as editors. Please, let me know if any of you are the slightest bit interested.

But that’s all for now. Much love, party people. I miss you all very much.

-North Korean Pizza Delivery Guy