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
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