You know, after so many near-death experiences (being electrocuted, kidney surgery, falling from varying heights) few things surprise or scare me anymore. But, upon arriving to school the other day on a gray and drizzly afternoon, one of my students asked me a devastating question:
"Where's your umbrella?"
A pit grew in my stomach. Why, gentle reader? Because that's when I remembered the warning issued the previous day:
"Nuclear Rain Expected Thursday." Holy crap on a stick.
So, it turns out, with all the problems Japan has been having lately, some of the radiation drifted its way out west, to my neck of the woods. Now, because of the language barrier and the fact that I live alone, I was oblivious to the panic that had set off in all over Korea. And on this fateful day, I had forgotten my radiated rain shield (i.e. my umbrella). Some of you may be thinking, "Isn't it just natural to bring an umbrella when it's raining outside?" To you I say, you clearly don't know me. I have a hard enough time remembering to wear pants when I leave the house so I know I'm bound to lose an umbrella. Luckily, though, it turns out no health risk was posed by the acid rain. However, that didn't stop several elite and freakishly overprotective Korean academies from closing. Mine was not in the aforementioned.
Despite the fact that I don't know enough Korean to have a conversation about radioactive rain (and its potential to turn me into a superhero), my Korean has dramatically improved. Is it good? Hell no. But I know enough to describe my weekend adventures now, and if I don't know how to say something, I can usually fake my way through it. I owe all of this to my Korean lessons, which I'm taking twice a week. And even though I'm studying like mad, for the first time in my life, I'm the dumbest kid in my class. Which, I've gotta say, is quite a rush.
And where do I most commonly use my new found Korean knowledge? Drunken conversations with cabbies. Man, I dig the taxi drivers out here. Just smooth, easy conversations talking about Korea, America, family, girls, food, traveling, etc. And to all of you who remember taking Spanish (or French) I and II, you'll remember that this is the stuff you learn - it's easy but you use it more than anything else. And I love being able to carry on a conversation. However, it has led me to an interesting revelation..
You see, when surrounded by people who speak in a different tongue and signs that look like squiggles, there is something very romantic and mystical about it. You wonder what lies behind closed doors. You are perplexed by the strange food and drink you have ordered. You ponder at what wisdom is encrypted in stone inscriptions. But once you start to learn the language, the magic fades a bit. You learn that behind those closed doors are "sleazy bars" and "massage parlors" the strange food is "pork" and the strange drink is "milk" and the sagacious signs read "This is a park."
Same goes with the people. You may imagine the Koreans before you are discussing the nature of being, or the origins of the universe. But, it turns out, Koreans are just like everyone else. Especially the cab drivers. There are some normal dudes, and then, there are the scumbags. I met a old man in a cab that could only be described as "filthy." Sure, the conversation was entertaining, but hearing his laundry list of the women of the world he has...been acquainted with, makes me wonder if learning a language was really such a good idea.
But teaching a language sure was. Being a teacher is awesome, but problematic because sometimes my maturity level is that of a five year old. So I'm struggling to not succumb to the maturity level of my students, but as I said, it's a struggle.
Like when my student David, is asked to describe Laurie, a homemaker in a book, David says "She doesn't have a job."
To which, another one of my students responds, "You mean like your Mom?"
These are the times I have to fight the urge to high-five him for such a worthy burn. But instead I have to punish him for his clever quip. It goes against everything I believe.
But one thing I haven't given up belief in is trying new foods. And this week's featured item is (that's right, you guessed it) spicy chicken feet.
Spiciest thing I've had out here? Oh yeah. One of my kumdo buddies hooked me up with a free meal at his Korean BBQ restaurant, in which he specializes at making boneless deep fried chicken feet known as 닭발 (dulk-bal). Not only are these bad boys a delicious crunchy treat that taste like something out of New Orleans, but they're saturated with insanely hot peppers that can only be found deep in the jungles of a Vietnamese Leper Colony. I highly recommend them to the fearless and foolish.
But not all the restaurant owners out here are so good-natured. Some border on the brink of stalker. There is a pizza guy, he sells five dollar pizzas in my neighborhood. Calling him creepy would be a profound understatement. I spoke of him in a long ago blog post, talked about how he has the tenancy to pause for seconds at a time and then explode into freakish, hyena laughter for no reason. Regardless, every time I see him, he harasses me. His beef is that me and my friend Andrew (who is now in America) have not been going to his restaurant. When I try to explain to him that I am busy, he starts using this one Korean word that I don't understand. He says it over and over and I still wasn't getting it. He starts stamping his feet and saying it. I'm at a loss. He takes out his pocket dictionary. There, on the page, is one word.
"Betrayal."
And if you think he was being funny, you should have seen the expression on his face. It looked as cold as Siberia. I think I'm getting a restraining order.
But as the scene in Gwang-ju sometimes gets a little played out (and I sometimes fear for my life from evil pizzamen), last weekend I decided to spread my wings and take a trip to Seoul. For those of you who don't remember, Seoul is the mega-city capital of Korea, boasting 24 million people in the greater Seoul area. I ventured off at six in the morning, hung over on two hours of sleep, to this bustling metropolis, with four mission objectives in mind.
The first was to see my old friend Rachel, from middle school. Having not seen her in over four years, it brought me back. Talking with another Greenfield native halfway around the world was definitely worth the uncomfortable three hour trip on the much overrated KTX train (I mean, sure it's fast, but where's the leg room?).
We met for breakfast in Itaewon. Itaewon is Seoul's American equivalent to New York's Chinatown. You want some Taco Bell (Taco-Beezy)? Oh, they've got it. You want to go to a make-your-own-T-shirt store? Go for it. Or how about do what I did, and get an authentic America style breakfast of pancakes, syrup, bacon, eggs, well made, no weird Korean twists. That sat real nice. And it was great to catch up with an old friend.
Second objective was to meet with my Eunice, who was such a big help getting me this gig. There, I saw the G20 Summit Ball. Never heard of it before? Me neither. But this one Korean gentleman had no problem posing for me in front of it.
Third was the Korean Palaces. Absolutely beautiful, from way back when Korea was all about the kings and queens. After going to the museum and seeing the palace, with my "tour-guide" Jasmine, I got a good taste of Korean history. Long story short - I understand why there are so many dramas about the Korean kings and queens. Because you can't make up the kind of stuff that happened to them. We're talking stories of betrayal, seduction, assassination, revolution. I believe a good chunk of my next blog will be devoted to such stories, so please, stay tuned.
Fourth and final was a trip to Dos Tacos, the hailed "best Mexican food in Korea." My verdict: 6 out of 10. Decent chimichangas, and the tacos had some good seasoning, but the quesadillas and nachos left a lot to be desired. My theory - Koreans just don't get cheese. They don't understand it. Maybe someday, they will. So people, if you're out there in America, and you can swing by Anna's or Chipolte or any solid Mexican style establishment, do it. For those of us who can't enjoy.
But, on a closing note, learning Korean has opened all sorts of doors for me. Plus, it's taught all sorts of strange, beautiful thing things. Like the other day, one of my Korean lady friends was touching my arm hair and saying "Gay, gay, gay!"
This evoked my immature seventh grade boy defense tactic of responding with "You're gay!" in a very confused voice.
Turns out, 'gay' is the Korean word for dog. I feel it's a fairly accurate description for both my personality and furriness. And hey, I love dogs (enough to not eat one out here.......yet.)
But that's it for me. Hope all is well my family and friends. I miss and love you all.
Gay Dan
