Post #10

Welcome to the DECABLOG!

That's right people, it's been ten official blog entries since I've been here. What does that mean? Absolutely nothing. But still, we're all ten entries deep, so it's time to sit back, reflect, and hear more about the wonderful chaos that is Korea.

Speaking of which:

AH!

Holy crap! Korea's being attacked by skeleton fish!

Not really, but that would be kind of cool. What you're actually seeing is the Korea outdoor fish tanks. You know how in America you can go into your local supermarket and pick your own lobster out of the tank? Same deal in Korea. Except these tanks are everywhere and always outdoors. And forget the lobster, we're rocking mackerel, prawn, and eel. All just chilling outside of shops. As seen below.

They don't mess around with freshness here. It's a treat that nothing out here is processed and loaded with preservatives. That being said, finding some of my American food commodities, such as bread, BBQ sauce, cheese, and all sorts of other western staples dishes has been a bit of a struggle. But in the face of adversity, we all must rise to the challenge. And rise I did. I went grocery shopping with my boss the other night, which was huge. I was no longer terrified of the Korean woman holding up fish jerky and shouting slogans at me. Plus, my boss found me some salsa. It wasn't that I didn't know how to ask for it, I do. The problem is, for those of you who remember, sal-sa is the Korean word for explosive diarrhea. Thanks to my boss, I acquired Mexican salsa and made my patented kick-ass Foley Quesadillas.

Also, thank God for the Underground Market. Yes, such a place exists, but to find it, you have to navigate the downtown. Downtown Gwang-ju is the closest thing in the urban world to the legendary Greek labyrinth. But instead of the Minotaur chasing you, it's an overly-made up Korean girl trying to peddle cheap plastic surgery. And everywhere you turn, there's a slew of giant mascots of reject cartoon characters paid to dance all day with the singular hope of giving me horrible nightmares. Not funny, it really scares the hell out of me. Stink-eye guy is still there, too, to you loyal blog followers. Everything looks the same (their versions of 7-11, the Mini Stop and the Family Mart are literally at every street corner) and if you stray off the main path to try to explore, may God have mercy on your soul. I defy you to find your way back. But if you can finagle your way through this concrete maze, you will come to the Underground Market. These, well, the only word that comes to mind is "Patriots," are selling everything from 32oz blocks of Monterrey Jack Cheese to Dr. Pepper to taco seasoning. They make me a very happy boy.

Speaking of shopping, every Friday, in my district, they have an outdoor market. Here they peddle knockoff Nike apparel and delicious fruit. I just recently bought a pair of boxers that I couldn't resist. Most of you are aware of my natural aversion to pants, and with that, I take my underpants very seriously. So, when I found a pair of boxers, featuring Snoopy and some mouse character dressed like government agents, with Korean symbols dancing in the back like the code bars on the Matrix and a big old Chinese symbol for good luck dead smack in the middle of them, I knew I had found my newest undies.

As for teaching, it's going great. I think I'm really connecting with my students. Tragically, we lost three students last week. One family moved, taking two of my students with them, and another lost all their money in the stock market. I was truly upset. One of the students, Robin, was one of my best and had some truly good insights. Said some stuff about ants that really made me think. Plus, I felt like I was bringing out the best in his language and analytical skills and it sucked to see him go. Also, I had to say goodbye to his little brother Timothy, a boy too smart for his own good, and the infamous Lala, who could be a pain in the ass but was damn cute and really got excited over doing presentations. Robin's Mom came in the other day. She told me Robin really missed having my class. That made me both very happy and very sad.

But not all is dead. We got two new students in recent days. One of these students I teach online, because he lives in Seoul, using Skype and a webcam. Welcome to the twenty-first century people. He's a truly awesome kid, twelve-years-old, well behaved, smart, good sense of humor, and willing to admit when he's wrong. I plan on taking him back to the States and raising him as my son upon my return. It's a cool class, I have it at nights from eight to eight-thirty. The most beautiful thing about it is Skype gives me a chance to mess with him. For instance, after Halloween, we had a class. Someone had left behind a pretty good skeleton mask. As soon as I came on his screen, I was wearing it. He screamed bloody murder. Great way to start class.

And their papers are the best. When I ask them how what they would do if they were the main character, the students come up with all sorts of ideas. Some are brilliant, involving elaborate plans of deception. Some are just excellent accounts of going on a shooting spree and icing all the bad guys. All good answers.

However, I asked one student to talk about what he was passionate about. He gave perhaps the best answer ever, the one that might trump them all, but for neither creativity nor intelligence. It's great for his misunderstanding of English connotation. I have here a direct quote from one of my students' papers. A small part of me thinks it violates my contract to post a student's work online, but I think I'll just bite the bullet. It's worth it. Here goes, my student's exact words:

"First of all, I like to play game with the balls anyway. Particular, all of my friends like to play game with the balls...And it aroused my feelings about the game." 

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

But teaching English to Koreans isn't all ball jokes. Sometimes it's difficult. Korean is an unvoiced language. What does this mean? Well, in English, we make our mouths dance all over the place when we speak, open our mouths wide, and really work our vocal chords. The Koreans, on the other hand, just kinda chill out, don't move their tongue or mouth too much, and don't conjure too much voice. This changes the way their language works.

But I know you, my loyal blog reader, you don't want a linguistics lesson. You want a real world application of this nonsense. Here's a good one.

So the Koreans have this annoying but catchy habit of never ending on a consonant sound, unless if it's "n" or "ng" as in Dan or Dong. They have to do this Korean throaty sound after all other consonant ending words. The sound doesn't really exist in English afterwards but sounds like an "uh." There is another variation where they throw an "ee" sound on at the end just for kicks.

Why do I tell you this? So you can understand my frustration. My school's name is Two Months Academy. "Two" and "Academy" end with vowel sounds, but because "Months" ends with "s," it's pronounced "Two Months-uh Academy." Why? Because otherwise Koreans don't understand what it is you're saying. Yes, the difference between "Two Months Academy" and "Two Months-uh Academy" is paramount to the Korean ear. You want proof?

I live near a place called Lotte Mart. This is a brick monstrosity that makes Wall-Mart look like a corner store. It's a four story behemoth that combines a full scale supermarket, a Best Buy, a J. C. Penny, and like eight other stores. Pretty much it has everything you'd ever need and plenty of it. But it's the biggest landmark around, and I tell taxi drivers to go there after a night of causing problems downtown. Why don't I just say my street name? Because they don't have street signs in Korea. Yup, they never saw the point. Let that sink in for a minute before I get back to my point. No street signs. Anywhere.

But forget street signs, I've got Lotte Mart that I can tell my cabby. So of course, I say my area "Sang-mu" then my location "Lotte Mart." He shakes his head at me. So I say to him again "Sang-mu Lotte Mart." He looks at me like I'm crazy. I repeat "Sang-mu Lotte Mart." Again, "Sang-mu Lotte Mart." Still nothing. Then I remember I'm in Korea.


"Sang-mu Lotte Mart-UH," I say.

"OOOhhhhhhh. Sang-mu Lotte Mart-uh. Okay, okay," he says.

This is not a joke people. It's been put to the test everywhere from Burger King to electronics shopping. For some reason, the "uh" makes it clear.

As for the "ee" ending, it's just fun. I dig saying words like "sausage-ee and hot dog-ee." I'm sure you can figure out what those words are in English.

I always like to end on a high note. My Uncle Bishy once gave me a piece of wisdom when I ran hurdles in track back in high school. It stuck with me. "Always save a little bit for the end," he said. That's always been some of the most sound advice I've ever gotten, in track and in life. So, I decided to end this blog entry with a discussion of Korean bathrooms.

Oh God are they disgusting. It's not like the floors are covered in excrement or they smell terrible or anything like that. It's the bathroom habits of the Korean men (of course, I can only speak for the men, I hope the women are a little less gross). First of all, there are never any towels stocked in the the dispenser in the bathrooms. But that doesn't really matter because I think nine out of ten Korean businessmen don't bother washing their hands. And I don't blame them. Korea's not a "soap dispenser" kind of place. They've got one of these bars of soap on a metal stick that, despite the fact that it's soap doesn't even look in the ballpark of sanitary. Not to mention Korean businessmen have a nasty habit of smoking butts while sitting on the john. And making strange, inhuman sounds. Between the intense consumption of tobacco and the heroic intake of kim-chi (rotten cabbage), it's just not pleasant to go to the bathroom here.

Though, the urinals may be the funniest thing. Ladies, bear with me here. Men, you know the appropriate distance you should stand away from a urinal. You're not five feet away, but you're not right up against it either. You stand back a bit, not too far, but enough to avoid any contact with said urinal. I'd say you stand relatively close. Koreans don't do relative. They get up against the urinal like they're Velcroed to it.

One time, at an extremely upscale bar that I felt extremely out of place at called Skyy Lounge, it was four AM and I was about to call it a night. I went into the bathroom on my way out and found a dude dressed up real nice, passed out standing up, looking like he was superglued to the urinal. I started to do my business in the urinal next. But I was actually worried about him. He didn't look good. So I built up the courage to ask him in Korean if he was alright. He perked up, turned his head, and still peeing, said, "Oh! You very handsome."

I told him thank you, though the whole situation felt strange. It got way stranger. His friend came in, took one look at me and said, "Ah! Tom Cruise! Tom Cruise! Very handsome." Then he stuck out his hand for me to shake. His right hand. Keep in mind what my hand is holding.

I gave him a puzzled look. "Shake?" I asked.

He nodded. What choice did I have? I shook his hand. Then I brought it back, zipped up, and got the hell out of there. Ran into him again on the elevator on the way. Turned out he was the manger there. He invited me and my party to go out for fish and so-ju with him across town. I stayed out til eight in the morning even though neither of us spoke the other one's language. Classic Korea.

But that's enough of Korea for today. An emotional roller coaster for sure. Every day brings new adventures and oddities, and I dig it, though it's a little exhausting.

And to you cats from home, know how important you are to me. The strangest things make me nostalgic and miss the hell out of home. Skyping with my old roommates from Bigallo Street while they're watching a football game, hearing neighborhood status updates from the Mackinites through email, seeing my little cousins go nuts when I moved my Curious George across the screen on my webcam, a rubber band penguin bracelet, Pez, eating cheese, using the word "rando," watching Paul Pierce hit 20,000 career points through Dave Raymond's laptop in Baltimore, and of course, all the letters, emails, messages, conversations, and insights into my foolishness that you all give me everyday.  People, you know me better than I know myself sometimes. Thank you for all the support. On my worst days, I'm okay being out here because of you.

To all of you, my tenth blog is dedicated to all of you awesome people. Thank you, I mean it when I say I miss and love you all. And if any of you make it out here to visit me, you've been warned. Stay the hell away from the bathrooms.

Peace out,
The Wandering Dan