Post #18

You May Say I'm a Dreamer...

But Koreans say I'm freakishly lucky. Why's that? Well, the other night, I had a dream that I was hit by a barrage of Hyundai cars. Now, it's not surprising that I had this dream, seeing as though Korea is rumored to have more pedestrian car accidents than any other country (I can't actually back that up with statistics, but it's gotta be true). But, what is surprising about this dream is that, according to Korean folklore, if you have a dream in which you spill your blood and guts everywhere, it's good luck. Does it make any sense? Not to me, but I've never been one to question a good omen. Another great tip I got is that buying a Korean girl shoes is a huge mistake, as doing so will make them run away from you. Clever and, by many personal accounts, true.

Which just goes to show what a truly different set of traditions and cultural norms exist here. Like, Koreans don't "hang out." There is no such notion of that. No matter what your age, the translation isn't "let's go chill" or "let's spend time together." The direct translation (and what many Koreans say in English) is "let's play together." I've adopted this in my own speech, because, let's be honest with ourselves, who doesn't love to play? It's somehow more innocent and more fun to "play" than "hang out."

But the one cultural norm I find particularly interesting is that of meeting a girl's parents out here. This is a HUGE deal. I don't believe I can overstate that. Meeting parents means marriage. Well, at least to the potential bride. But before she can But at that point, the man is put to the test by the parents. And failing said test means no marriage. No, this isn't America. You can't just give the middle finger to your parents and ride off into the sunset with your lover blasting Jay Z. If the Korean parents forbid the marriage, end of the line. I have heard countless stories out here of happy relationships that parents put the kim-chi kibosh on. And even if the kids think it's unfair, it don't matter. They oblige. But the test is multifaceted, with one very interesting twist.

Aside from the normal "is this guy a scumbag/deadbeat/fool" kind of tests that parents universally submit their potential son-in-laws to, Korea has one unique one. Your girl's papa is supposed to take you out and get you ape-dookie drunk. I'm talking three-sheets to the wind, annihilated, pissing in the middle of a street with heavy traffic sloshed. The way it goes down is this: You go out. He buys a bottle of soju. He offers you a shot of the noxious beverage. You say something along the lines of "I couldn't," but only you'd say it in super-formal Korean. But then you do it anyway, because, well, you have to. And then you do it again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Always repeat. For about five to seven bottles. You know you're done when the two of you are either hugging and talking about how beautiful Kim Hye Soo is, or holding back each others hair while you ralph up bibimbap.

Now, the question remains: why would pops take you out and get you plastered? Because he likes you and wants to welcome you to the family? Heeellllllllll no. He's testing you. He wants to see how hir little girl's prince behaves after he's crushed enough alcohol to kill a Shetland Pony. If he's pouring his heart out about what an amazing girl this man produced, he's in. If he's trying to talk dad into going to a "fun" massage parlor, maybe he's not the right dude for his daughter.

But at worst, at least you get to eat bibimbap. What is bibimbap you ask? Well, according to my Korean lessons, "bap" means rice, and I'm pretty sure "bibim" means something like "sloppy mushy mess of stuff." Perhaps this video will help.

Confused? Yeah me too. But basically bibimbap is all that stuff you saw in the video (except for the people) thrown into a bowl with rice, and then mushed up with a spoon. Describing the taste would be as complicated as describing the undertones of James Joyce's Ulysses. However, it is akin to something you probably are familiar with:

You know how, the day after thanksgiving, you've got all that delicious turkey and gravy and stuffing and cranberry sauce and garlic smashed potatoes (yes, smashed) and corn and squash and anything else you can think of, and you get that crazy idea that we all have where we're like - "I'm gonna throw this all into the microwave and put it between two pieces of bread and just make a kickin' sandwich out of these leftovers." It's basically the Korean version of that. Except Korean are nuts about side dishes and spicy sauce, so it's pretty much a hodgepodge of all that, and instead of bread, since it's Asia, they use rice. But wow, it's damn good.

And often times, it's served out of a big bowl. Koreans love community food, with everyone using their chopsticks all together and contaminating the hell out of everything they touch. That's why everyone has cold sores here (at least, I hope that's why...). So they don't care if they catch diseases from the people they share food with, but strangers - forget that noise. A shockingly high number of Korean people, especially old people, wear masks. Not the Halloween variety, the ones that go over just your mouth and nose so you don't have to share air with the swarming bacteria pool we call society. Perhaps it comes from sheer racism...no, I take that it back, it definitely comes out of sheer racism, but the masks make everyone look like they have the potential to be a ninja.

Like I mean, am I crazy, or is he about to pull out a katana and dice us all into little pieces? And sometimes, they don't even need the mask...

Don't trust her smile. Look what she's already done to those fish.

And speaking of ninja training, mine is sword art is improving. Sure, my biggest accomplishment is beating a fifteen year old kid half my size, but hey, you gotta look at the small victories. But, at least now, everyone treats me like an equal. Which means no one goes easy on me, except the super experienced guys. Everyone else, especially the guys fresh out of the military my age, wants a piece of the gangly white dude. And I love battling 'em. It kind of reminds me of playing one-on-one basketball. It's a game of subtly, finesse, and speed, three things I don't possess but I'm trying like hell to attain. Hitting the areas where you score points (the head, neck, wrist, and chest) is extremely challenging and I have had some epic duals, even at my low level.

My one complaint is the old men. Because they are no longer fast or graceful, they just decide to wail on you. That means all power attacks, all the time. And they got that old man strength. Sure they're not scoring points, but if they bruise up a young guys shins enough, they walk away happy. And a bamboo sword really leaves a mark, especially the other day when I took one to the family jewels. Let's just say I could taste bibimbap for the rest of the night.  

On a totally unrelated note, Happy Lent to all you poor Catholics out there. My Ash Wednesday (the start of Lent, a day of fasting and abstinence to all you heathens out there who don't know) was abysmal. Why, you ask?  Well, the Tuesday night before (read: Mardi Gras) I swung by the church to talk the priest into giving me a quick confession. But then he asked me to go out for sushi. Of course I said yes. I learned a few things that night. In many ways, a man of the cloth lives a very different life than me. Other ways, like wanting to get hammered on Mardi Gras, him and I see more eye-to-eye on. So began an interesting journey.

At this sushi place, they were bringing out all sorts of things I had never seen before. Things with odd numbers of legs and colors and shapes and textures that just baffled me. Now, after a glass or two of hot sake (with fish gills floating in it for some delicious reason) I stopped caring and liberally devoured every raw sea faring creature placed before me. While we ate, he continuously referenced his phone to point out that this here fish is "tuna" or this is "white fish." While sampling one I really liked that kinda tasted like chicken, he pulled out his phone and said this was "puk-oh" fish. Having no idea what that was, he tried to pronounce it. I didn't understand. Looking at the phone made it oh, so clear.

Blowfish.

Dear God.

(If you are unaware, blowfish, improperly served, is poison, and potentially deadly to humans). So of course, I said to him. "Isn't blowfish poisonous?"

To which the smiling priest responded. "Sometimes."

This country is full of surprises. Long story short, waking up on a day of fasting (and teaching) hung-over off your gourd is an exercise is patience and self-loathing.

The last cultural treat I will let you good folks in on is "Carpe Diem," Korea premiere rock n' roll band. Don't bother looking them up. They're twelve years old, and they're my students.

When they first told me about going to what's called a "music academy," my knee jerk reaction was my Dad's voice in my head going "boooOOOOORRRRRRRIIINNNNGGGG." Because, let's be honest, that sounds as square as it gets. But when they told me it was basically band practice, the coolness factor became more evident in my mind. And, attending their rock concert in the park last Saturday, let me just say, I dig.

They showed up with instruments that were as big as they were, and they rocked the house. Jamming out to a bunch of Korean kids playing Muse's "Time is Running Out" and some Korean songs I'd never heard of before is one of the better things I've done out here. What I love most about their band, though, is that it makes perfect sense, who plays what instrument.

You've got Austin, the methodical and super precise drummer, who refuses to make the smallest mistake.

Then there's Tom, the reserved and intelligent one, whose coolness is revealed in just a few finger plucks of his bass.

Harry's Tom's little brother, the aggressive, fearless, athletic lead electric guitarist who, for eleven, just oozes badassery when he jams on his axe. 'Nuff said.   

And of course Lisa, the girl in the band, who right now they all think is "okay" and "just one of the guys," but I guarantee in about four years they're all going to totally fall in love with her.

Yeah, I know. These kids are absurdly cute. And I dig that. I got to see my students jam out, they were actually excited to see me there. Plus, afterwards, their parents took us all out for noodles and meat. I'm glad they feel comfortable enough to see me on the weekend, and show me their sound (which, no lie, was really good).

But that's all for today, rock gods and goddesses. As always, I miss and love you all. Keep rocking.

-Guitar Hero Foley

Post #17

Hello Fellow Nudists,

That's right, Foley in Korea #17 is the Naked Blog. Why the Naked Blog? We'll get to that later. First, some business.

Some would find calling an entire nation of people "thieves" to be a brash and borderline racist statement. Clearly, I am not one of these people. But don't get me wrong. That's what I love about this country. The stealing. What kind of larceny is this? Are the Koreans robbing precious jewels? Are they embezzling mass quantities of drug money? No. The only thing they steal here (other than my heart), is about every movie, document, song, video game, and online thing you can possibly think of.

I know what you're thinking, "Dan, we live in America. We know all about stealing music. Remember Napster? You're just telling us information we already know. This blog sucks." You just calm down for a minute. Yes, people in America steal music and movies at a reasonable pace. At the same time, there are plenty of people who pay for such things (which, at the risk of getting on my high-horse, I am a huge supporter of). But these kind of people just don't exist in Korea. When I mention things like "paying for music on iTunes" or "legally purchasing DVD's," Koreans look at me like I have a nail in my head. So what's the cause of the ransacking of copyrighted information?

BitTorrent. The program BitTorrent is nothing short of prolific in Korea. For those of you who don't know, BitTorrent allows users to download ENORMOUS files that have been compressed, so you can do it in a shorter time. We're talking about downloading HD full length feature films and entire series of televisions shows.

What sweetens the pot is the Korean internet service. It pummels America in terms of internet. Not only do they rank above America in the list of "Countries with Highest Internet Penetration," (The Falkland Islands were #1, who knew?) but Korean internet is faster on average than American. How much faster? America ranks twelve in the world with an average connection speed of 4.60 Mbits/second. Meanwhile, Korea is the gold medal winner with an absurd average connection speed of 16.63 Mbits/second. That's four times faster than America's AND twice as fast as Hong Kong's, which ranks number two on the list of fastest internet connections. Couple that with the fact that most Koreans have external hard drives with a terabyte (read: crapload) of space , they can have every episode of everything ever played on "Nick at Nite" in about five minutes without breaking a sweat. So why the hell would they pay? Plus the copyright laws here mean about as much as the "no smoking in the bathroom" signs, so there's no fear of Big Brother breathing down their neck. Ethics be damned!

And if you're still sitting there, saying "Listen Foley, I got so many illegal movies on my computer and a great connection speed. Korea is just like America. You're wasting my time." To you, my arrogant friend, I ask this: Have you ever downloaded an Xbox 360 game to your computer?

Didn't think so.

Computers and thievery are so important that no one really buys Xbox 360's and PlayStation 3's out here. Instead of spending four hundred dollars for three games, two controllers and a system, they can just download it for free. The only thing people really buy in Korea are Nintendo Wii's, and that's because they're just so damn fun.

While we're on the subject: if there's one thing I love, it's video games. Oh do I ever. But not as much as Korea. How much do Koreans love video games? The 1998 computer game Starcraft is Korea's national sport. Yup. Forget baseball, out here video games=sport. They take gaming seriously. But I don't think you understand how seriously. I stole some of the next pieces of information from this Cracked article, so if you want to read it yourself, you can get the full story. But between my own experience and a little research, here's the good stuff learned.

There is a television channel almost exclusively devoted to Starcraft games. Every day is footage of the 1998 game being played by Starcraft pros. That's right, Starcraft gaming is a profession out here. People get money to play video games. To be fair, this game requires a great amount of strategy and practice. But, what is truly bizarre is that people pay money to watch. The true testament to the immensity of this game can be seen in Starcraft tournaments. The finals of their 2005 tournament (the equivalent in their sports world to the World Series or Superbowl) had 120,000 people live in attendance. Holy crap. For comparison, Fenway park has a seating capacity of about 37,000.

The pros train like wild, too. Six days a week, at least ten hours a day. Their goal? Try to make as many moves as possible per minute. The best pros can pull off about 300 moves per minute. What does that look like? I'm glad you asked. Check out the video below. About nine seconds in, you'll see what I'm talking about.

 
And these dudes get chicks too. Super hot chicks. Super hot chicks who watch them play Starcraft all day long. It probably doesn't hurt that some of these dudes make about three hundred grand a year. It's no Tom Brady-esk salary, but still, it ain't bad.

And speaking of Tom Brady comparisons, my ego is out of control here with celebrity comparisons. You're probably aware I've been told out here that I look like Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, and Johnny Depp (just to name a few) but the other day, out with some of my Korean friends, I received a comparison that even my massive ego couldn't support. Who could be so monumental, who could be so incredible that even I don't think I should be mentioned among the likes of?

Jesus Christ.

Well, Jesus Christ from Passion of the Christ. They said I looked like the dude who played Jesus in that movie. I decided that they think all white people look the same. And, quite frankly, they might be right. But damn I'm handsome.

Now, while I should not be compared to the King of Kings, there is a true saint in the Gwangju community. I am referring, of course, to the beloved Chicken Lady. This gorgeous fifty-odd year old woman is the leading supplier of drunk food in downtown Gwang-ju. Loved far more by foreigners than Koreans for one simple reason - the Hamcheese Toast-ee. American (kind of) style. Legend has it, the Chicken Lady came up with this recipe on a serious bender when she was super hungry, but was low on supplies in her fridge. Somehow, perhaps with the help of an angelic presence, she created the Hamcheese Toast-ee, the perfect balance of flavor. What is it? Essentially, it's an egg (mixed with some kinda of sprout and seasoning), a slab of ham, and melted cheese sandwich with pickles, mayonnaise, ketchup, and the secret ingredient that pulls it all together: kiwi sauce. Sounds nasty, and it is. But also very delicious. For a buck fifty, when you can't walk straight, there's no better food.

Except for maybe Chicken Lady's deep fried, crabbed stuffed jalapeno peppers. Yes, they're as good as they sound, and not at all spicy until the next morning, if you catch my drift. Ironically, Chicken Lady's chicken on a stick - not that good. No one really gets it.

Bur I know what you all came here for, and that's hard core male nudity. Well, my perverted friends, I have a story that should satisfy your strange urges. This takes place at the Korean institution known as the "Gimgilbong."

The Koreans call it a "bathroom" but that's like calling Chicago a town. It's kinda like a public spa, but with strange and quirky features. My Korean buddy Alex took me there early Saturday evening. We checked our shoes in and got the spa clothes (baggy shorts and a t-shirt) and proceeded to the men's side. Having never been to a spa before, I didn't know what to expect. What did I see? A lot of naked dudes. Like, a lot. Not locker room style, where people are changing and minding their own business. I'm talking full out naked Korean men, hanging all over the place, having intense conversations with each other like they were wearing clothes. I knew what I was up for when I saw this one old guy was bouncing around in a massage chair, buck naked save for the small towel resting on his chest. I felt really bad for that chair.

After showers, we threw on the spa clothes and proceeded to the co-ed sauna area. It was two stories of stuff ranging from a restaurant, to arcade games, to PC rooms, to ice cream vendors, to bedrooms. It was warm, but nothing serious. What was truly impressive was the legitimate sauna rooms. Various rooms, each built from a unique material like brick, coal, or stone, each with different temperatures. There was the frigid ice room (complete with real ice!). Then there were the normal sauna rooms at about 120F. There was the big boy sauna room that boasted 159F. But all of those paled in comparison to what I refer to as "The Oven."


The Oven was a room shaped like a cone, made of stone with wooden planks lining the walls. The only way to access it was through a glass crawl space. In this room, they don't tell you the temperature. To give you an idea of how hot it was, it was impossible to breathe in there without a towel wrapped around your face. The heat tore your lungs apart. In minutes, beads of sweat formed on my skin the size of beans. I would wager if a person stayed in there for six to eight hours, they would become something like the consistency of pulled pork. They would probably taste pretty good too.

They had massage chairs in the co-ed (clothed) area, which I took full advantage of. I was tempted to get a actual Korean massage, but I was nervous. A few weeks ago, a lady friend of mine received a special Korean massage designed to promote bodily health. I asked her out for drinks that night, but she declined, saying, "When you see me, you'll know why." The next day I saw her. She showed me her back. It resembled something I saw in an episode of Law and Order: SVU. No kidding, it looked like someone had mercilessly wailed on her back, switching between a tire iron and a billy club. And it wasn't just her back. Her arms, legs, and even under her chin were straight black a blue. I offered to fight this masseuse for her, but she assured me this was how it was supposed to look. Not unsurprisingly, I didn't get a massage on Saturday.    

The highlight of the Gimgilbong was, without doubt, the Korean scrub down. Korean tradition is, at the end of a trip to a Gimgilbong, you are given something that resembles a loofah. With it, among other naked men, you sit in these strange dentist-waiting-room seats, and scrub. Hard. The goal is to rid yourself of dead skin particles. Yes, I know how attractive that sounds. But oh wait, it gets better.

You know how, when you're at the beach, there's always one area of your body you have trouble reaching? Bingo: the back. So, Gimgilbong tradition is, you and the...uh...other naked guy, take turns...uh...vigorously scrubbing down the other one's back to remove dead skin. Now, I didn't mind chilling with all the naked dudes or the little kids staring at my American package, but this was a little bit more of a stretch for me. But honestly, it wasn't all that bad. At first, it was a little awkward, but after a few seconds, wasn't weird at all. And even though I was naked behind another naked man, rubbing down his back with a bristled cloth, it was totally not gay.

Except for maybe when he told me to go "harder."   

But truly, an excellent experience. Good chilling with my man Alex, afterwards I felt like I had been cleansed, both body and mind. I felt a peace. I could close my eyes, and question the mysteries of the universe, like why are we here? And why are Korean guys naturally hairless?

But that's all for today, lovers of Korea. I miss and love you all, and I truly mean that.

-Naked Dan