Post #14

Hello Lovers of Chaos,

Yes, it's Foley in Korea Blog 14. The theme this week is - there is no theme. Just sheer randomness. Chaos. Disorder. Why, Dan? I'm glad you asked.

When experiencing a brand new world, you encounter obscure tidbits of culture and life that just really don't fit in anywhere else. But they beg to be discussed. So, I thought I'd just have a little fun with this one, and in no particular order, here's just some stuff that I couldn't really fit anywhere else. But in so many ways, these things are Korea. 

Milk Soda. Yes, that's right, my friends. Koreans are officially insane.

 
I know what you're thinking. "Combining milk and soda? Why, that's absurd. What are they going to come up with next, Cheese Beer?" But Milk Soda (called Milkis) is actually a stroke of genius, a gem, a, shall I say, masterpiece of the Coca-Cola Company. It totally catches your taste buds off guard, but in a good way, like falling in love with a perfect stranger and forgetting who you are. All right, maybe it's not that good, but I still dig it. And it's truly not that weird. Think about things like cream soda, or a root beer float - which are essentially the same idea - combining a carbonated beverage with a dairy product. Just saying, it's not as weird as "Cheese Beer," though maybe that's not such a bad idea.

Districts. Wow. I know. You hear districts, and you're already bored. Me too. But bare with me. In Korea, they don't have street signs, which, yes, I agree is stupid. But, what they do have is districts, which almost makes up for it. Whatever you need, there's a district for it. You want to buy a wedding dress? Well, they've got a street where you can't do much else. It's just bridal shop after bridal shop after bridal shop. You want to buy a new toy for your kid? Go to the toy district, home of the most fake guns I've ever seen in one place. You looking to go to a really shady bar and chill with the disgusting underbelly of Korean society? They got a place for that, too. The whole city is comprised of districts. Hell, even my neighborhood is called 먹자골목 (moke-ja-gul-mok), which literally translates to "Let's Eat Alleyway." It's kind of like the North End of Boston, but it's all Korean food and bars and drunken businessmen who like to hold hands while they puke outside my apartment. But speaking of shady bars, there's also the...

Norebong. A Norebong is essentially a room that you rent out with your friends. You can eat, you can drink, but most you can sing karaoke ("nore" means "song," and "bong" means "bong"-errrrr...that is, I mean, "bong" means "room"). It's a blast, a great way to spend a fun, wholesome, intoxicated night with friends. Except, not all norebongs are as wholesome as the rest. Most of them are just what I described above. BUT, some norebongs also feature a bonus, if you want to call it that. They have beautiful girls that you pay to hang out with you. That's right, you can rent babes. But, before you jump to conclusions, from all the knowledge I can surmount, these girls are not prostitutes. They're just so gorgeous that dudes, who otherwise couldn't get these kind of girls to come within thirty feet of them, will pay good money for their time. I don't really know how to feel about this one.

But, speaking of bongs...

DVD Bong. Using the Korean language skills you acquired in the last paragraph, you can take a guess what a DVD Bong is. It's essentially a room, about the size of a big bathroom. It's got a love-seat (super comfortable), a projector, surround sound, and a screen. It's basically a two person mini-movie theater. It's excellent. You pick the movie out of their massive library, and for ten bucks, you and a date can watch a movie, chill out, or even take a nap, if you so desired. It is totally acceptable to bring in beer and food, their American movie section is notably large, and these DVD Bongs are everywhere. I know what you're thinking, though. "Why don't people just go hang out at their apartments, rent a movie and chill out there? You'd save money and be right in your own home." Well my friend, the necessity for DVD Bongs stems from a profound culture difference between Koreans and Americans which I hate so much it brings me to tears.   

Living With Your Parents. In America, most kids after high school/college yearn to escape their parent's house and begin their own lives. We can dissect why this is for various reasons, ranging from social pressures to the fact that living with parents can be really lame sometimes. But that's not the case here. Over in Koreaville, it's a whole different ballpark. Living with friends after college is rare. Living by yourself in general is considered strange. With most Koreans, you live with your parents until you're married, and then you live with your spouse.

Why do I care about this? Because Korean parents aren't cool. Well, maybe that's not fair. I wouldn't say that I was an American girl trying to date a Korean guy. Because Korean guys who live with their parents do whatever the hell they want. They want to disappear for three days with no explanation? Fine. They want to bring random girls home? That's cool. But that doesn't fly if you're a Korean daughter living with your parents. Dating girls here is like high school all over again. Let me paint a picture for you. I'm out with a lovely twenty three year old girl on a Saturday night enjoying an Irish Car Bomb, when she says, "I have to go home."

I think to myself, was it something I said? "Why?" I ask. "Why in God's name why?"

She responds, one word. "Curfew."

She has a curfew. And she's on vacation. Really Korea? Really? And this was after she finished telling me her dad begs her brother to go out and have fun with girls before he's married. Where's the equality? Classic sexism. 

However, this parental tyranny creates the need for DVD Bongs, as most Koreans, men and women, live with their parents, and sometimes need to "get away for a little while" with their dating partner. With such knowledge, it does sour the experience a bit of the DVD Bong, because, even if you go with wholesome intentions, it always does feel a little grimy, sitting there, in the dark, on that tiny leather love-seat, wondering of what came before.

This is also the reason for the so called "Love Motels" which I think you can probably wrap your head around without much provoking.

Car Phone Numbers. Finally, something positive. After scoring a hundred dollar parking ticket during my brief stint in America, (damn you "bus parking only"), I finally found something that Korea does right when it comes to driving. And that is, parking. Sure, there are no parking places, which means people park like jackasses. Here's the plus side. No parking meters. But what if you're a fool like me, and you park somewhere you're not supposed to park? Do they tow you, and make your life a living hell? No. They came up with a ingenious, humane approach. You write down your phone number on a little card on your windshield. That way, if you're parked somewhere you can't park, the angry person who you blocked in can call you, like a civilized human being, and ask you kindly to please move your automobile. America, take notes.

Neon Crosses. There are a lot of churches in Korea. They opt for smaller churches, but more of them. Now, there's nothing wrong with that except they designate their churches (mostly Protestant I think) with neon red crosses high in the air. There's something extremely disturbing about a neon red cross. It reminds me of the Simon and Garfunkel song "The Sound of Silence," which, while an excellent song, I am very unnerved when I see these supposed houses of holiness.

 

Pretty creepy, huh?

Bow Tie Guy. I've discussed Stink Eye Guy at length, but I have failed to mention the one and only Bow Tie Guy. Who is this strange gentleman? He is a man that I would gauge is somewhere between the ages of 72 and 136. He resides at the hybrid Korean-foreign bars (on any given day, it's about 50/50 Koreans and foreigners) or the Korean night clubs. Either way, he is an easy spot because he's always hitting on girls young enough to be his great granddaughter, and he's always rocking the same tux with the same red bow tie and the same look of sheer drunken senility in his eyes. I always shake this man's hand when we cross paths, which is far more frequent than I would like.    

My Apartment. Two things of note. As a personal victory, I finally figured out my electronic Korean heating/water heating unit. Only took me til the end of December. It was an icy nightmare before that.

The other thing is my toilet seat is perpetually broken. The landlord had "fixed" it, but it broke after one sit. The seat itself is intact, but it can't stay latched onto the toilet bowl in the back. Now, for me, that's fine, I've learned how to play defense with my toilet seat. I forget it's broken half the time. But when (drunken) guests in my apartment, I usually hear them scream and fall into the toilet when they turn on the seat of doom. It pleases me to no end.
 
Funny Korean Words. Three excellent Korean English things.

1. Telling time. "Two o'clock" is one of my favorite phrases. "Dul" is "two" and "shi" is "hour." Put them together, the time "two o'clock" translates to "du-shi." Go ahead, say it. (If you're over 40, you might be too old to get this one). I think it's great. So, my friends and I have adopted the saying, that when you encounter someone who is a real jackass, they are referred to, as a "two o'clocker," for obvious reasons.  

2. Shut up. The direct translation for the way Koreans say "shut up" is "Chicken Mouth Punch." I have no idea why but it's clearly awesome.

3. Sandwiches. For all of you who know of my profound love of sandwiches, the word for sandwich in Korean is "Sandwichee." It is my new favorite word.

So there you have it, my friends. 10 random things that just really couldn't go anywhere else in my growing blog. But to step away from the chaos for a bit, there's a very ordered thought I had, talking with my Korean friend, who made me realize something fascinating.

Obama, in his education speech, made the case that the American education system should mirror the Korean. Bear in mind I am mostly apolitical, but that statement was purely ignorant. Koreans don't even think Korean education should mirror itself. The high school students go to school here from 7:30 in the morning til 11:30 at night. And the kids know it sucks and shouldn't be this way. Most of the parents and teachers feel this way too, but it is so hyper-competitive, they have no choice. Average students in high school are doing "multivariable calculus." If you have taken this course in America, most likely you are currently an engineer or a scientist.

For example, my friend told me of her cousin, who was considered "dumb" in math in Korea. Then, in high school, he did a semester in New Zealand to study English. There, he won a math award for being the best in his school. But does the average person really need to be that proficient in multivariable calc?

For the Korean SAT, you need to memorize so many dates, so much information about Korean history, so many vocabulary words from two different languages, just such an absurd amount of information, it makes me sick to my stomach. And they do it so well. And they're trained to do it from an early age. I have students that memorize passages of the books and repeat them back in class when they give me answers. It's truly remarkable watching them do it.

BUT for a lot of them, if I ask them to describe to me what they just said in their own words, they hit a brick wall. So I make the case, what's the point?

Korean students, up til graduating high school, are treated like memorization machines. Questions like "why" are strongly discouraged. My friend explained to me her high school teachers hated her because she was always asking "why?" So many students, when asked what they want to do with their lives, will usually say they want the same job as their father. I wonder why.

Americans are completely the opposite. We have a reason for everything we do. Hell, we have an excuse for everything that we do. But we're also expected to explore, figure out answers, find motivation, purpose, discover our own path, blaze our individuality, insert American cliche here. This is fantastic, it really is, but the flip side of it is that we live in a country with a lot of lazy people who always have a reason to not do stuff. And I'm not dogging you America. I often join the ranks of the lazy myself.

On the plus side, Koreans are always doing stuff. Even after high school, they never have time to stop. They're always living with family, and family functions happen all the time out here. Kids are always playing with each other. The country is so small and affordable everyone travels around everywhere. You're expected to go drinking with every group you're a part of. Hell between church, kumdo, and work friends, I could be constantly intoxicated. Koreans never stop, which is great, but they also never stop to ask why.

So to sum up - we live in two countries, one of no why, one of no do. I see no reason to memorize two thousand years of Korean history when I can pop open a history book and point to a date, but I do think they're on to something with the constant moving. No, it shouldn't be this Obama-endorsed torturous school schedule they subject their kids to, but it's nice to see a group of people that watch less than 4 hours of TV a day, which is what we average in American. Everyone's too damn busy to.

(And if you're interested, all you math people, 4 hours a day of television watching translates to 28 hours a week. Going at that rate, the average 65 year old American has spent 9 years of their life watching the boob tube. I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.)

Again, both countries are messed up. But, hey, there's good stuff too. There's nothing wrong with cracking open a milk soda and watching a little TV at the end of the day. Just make sure you actually did something during the day. Something to earn that milk soda.

I miss and love you all,
Lazy Bones Foley

Post #13

Hello Unlucky Souls,

That's right, it's Blog Thirteen. But, fortunately for you all, thirteen is not an unlucky number out here. Their unlucky number is incidentally four. Why four? It's because the number "four" in Korean (pronounced "set") is the same as their word for "death." How does that translate into the everyday? They skip the fourth floor on elevators like we skip the thirteenth. They'll mark it as an "F" or sometimes just go right to five. But I like how they have a reason for their unlucky number. Has anyone ever wondered why thirteen is unlucky in western countries? The best answer I could find was that Jesus plus his twelve apostles made thirteen, and Judas was counted as lucky number thirteen. But perhaps there's another explanation. If you come across it, let me know, party people. I love that stuff.

Much to discuss. Like for starters, did you know I live down the street from the National Wonder Bread Convention Center?  

Actually to tell you the truth, I have no idea what they do at this place. Still, it pleases me to no end every time I walk by it..

But useless observations aside, my recent stint in America has got me with all sorts of mixed up on the inside. Yes, my blood is American. And yes, I live in Korea. But my major problem is that I love both places so much, so sometimes I have to look at things objectively to decide which I like better. After all, people, comparison is the hallmark of understanding. So, the remainder of this blog will be devoted to me making sense of these two great (and sometimes foolish) nations in a little segment I will call:

AMERICA VERSUS KOREA

(DING! DING! DING!)

Spicy Food - Anyone who knows me knows that I can handle spicy food. No, I do not possess some godly Man Versus Food kind of dominance over spice, but compared to the average American, I have a damn good track record battling super spicy food.

Now before I continue, if any of my former roommates reading this, I am excluding the Talati Salsa from my otherwise flawless track record. We all know where I wind up after eating it (passed out on the toilet), but I believe it is the exception that proves the rule. Because there's nothing I love more than a good spice challenge. In America.

Korea is a different story altogether and their utter dominance in the spice game was proven to me at the 쭈꾸미, the spicy octopus restaurant. I told my friend Jasmine I wanted to go. She warned me it was quite good, but really spicy and I probably wouldn't be able to handle it. I scoffed at her disbelief. Most foreigners in this country can't handle the spice of kim-chi, and I eat that stuff by the barrel full. I wasn't scared. So we went and got some spicy octopus at the  쭈꾸미, pronounced "choo-koo-me." Was the octopus spicy, you ask? Let me put it this way. They don't have an "F" sound in Korea, but if they did, I'm pretty sure they would have named the restaurant the "foo-koo-me."

We ordered the weakest thing on the menu, much to my prideful disdain. But thank God we did. Take a look at the "mild"  쭈꾸미 "choo-koo-me."

You can't really tell by the picture, but it looks like they went down to hell and slaughtered one of the devil's minions, drained his blood into this bowl, and then added octopus and chili sauce. One bite of it and I was humbled. It's not like American spice where your tongue catches on fire. It's like a body-draining, soul-sucking, spice that leaves you with a red face and the ability to see through time. We loaded it with bean sprouts to kill the spice a bit but it didn't do a damn thing. I must have killed a beer for every bite of octopus tentacle I took. I was pathetic. And very drunk. The only silver lining was I did out-eat my Korean lady friend, so I escaped with some pride. Also, my face stayed less red than the Korean guy across the way from me, who resembled the guy from the first Indian Jones movie who gets his face melted by the flying spirits of the Arc.

Spicy Food Winner: Korea

Pizza - Take a guess who's gonna win this one. Not much to say. Koreans just haven't figured out cheese. Certain places, like the chain Mr. Pizza, aren't bad, but even the American imports like Pizza Hut are all Koreanized. What does that mean? Basically that they have to throw on all these weird sauces and toppings because God forbid you just put sausage and peppers on a pizza. Nah, you need some weird mayonnaise sauce drizzled on top of pizza loaded with seafood and corn. I'm sorry, I try not to take an objective stance on things as subjective as food, but putting corn in pizza is sacrilegious and should be a crime punishable by torture.

The funny thing is, even if you don't get corn in your pizza, they always give you a "side" of creamed corn with your pizza.

Pizza Winner: America
 
Girl Power - America is an complicated place to talk about woman's rights. So I'm just going to skip it and start talking about the other side of the equation.

Korea is often seen as a male dominated country. All but one of the major political leaders are men, business is dominated by the Y-chromosome, and if you are a constant reader of my blog, you know that women are sometimes mocked publicly because the dudes here can be total jackasses.

Still, I think women run this country. How can this be, given everything I just said? Two reasons:

The hotties and the ajumas.

The hotties I've discussed before. Korean women, aged (without being creepy) 16-40 are hot. And they don't show their age. No way to know if the girl staring at you from across the room is jail bait or old enough to be your mother. They're infused with plastic surgery (fifty percent of girls aged 20-27 have it right now and most of the rest think they need it). Every girl is in fantastic shape. And historically, they're the best looking of the three major Asian powers. There's a saying in Asia, that the ideal woman "Cooks like a Chinese woman, looks like a Korean woman, and obeys like a Japanese woman." And while that's horrible and misogynistic and hilarious, it gives you a great idea for the sheer hotness of these girls.

Korea is the Asian country where men do the dishes, the nation where men beg their women for things. Girls twelve to forty five just have to so much as look at a guy on the bus and he'll give up his seat for them. I've seen men stuck for hours carrying their girlfriend's purse while the girl goes out to the clubs and dances. And they do it all without complaint. Why? Yes, hotness is probably the biggest factor, but I think I've discovered their secret. They invented their own language, known as "Cute Korean." They basically changed around a bunch of words to make them sound cuter and say everything in this sing-songy voice that is completely irresistible. Don't be fooled, it's a siren song and they're all pure evil.    

But that's just the young half. What about the grandmas? What power to they have? Ajuma is a word for "old or distinguished woman" in Korea, and they are feared far and wide. These are the tiny old women who are shaped like upside-down L's. These are either the war widows or the women who were little girls during the war. So either way, they're tough as nails, and thanks to the war, they outnumber the men. And they make their own rules. These ajumas stop for nobody. I've seen them walk out of their way to plow right into someone walking on the street. For no reason. They don't falter. No apology. They just blast right through. They get respect for doing this. And if they're selling stuff at the market, they'll yell at you til' you buy something. Also, like the hotties, ajumas have their own language, but it ain't pretty. It's the same as regular Korean, except for emphasis, they make a sound like they're trying to hock up a serious loogie. And when an ajuma speaks, everyone listens.

I'm gonna give it to Korea. Girl power!

Girl Power Winner: Korea

Drugs - Does Korea have a drug problem? No, because even possession of a "soft drug" like marijuana is punishable by a minimum of three years in jail. No lie. Check for yourself. A little strict, but keep in mind, they've also avoided things like crack and heroin with such policies, so no one's killing each other over here because they haven't gotten their fix.

Does that mean Korea has eliminated the existence of drugs within the confines of the peninsula? Of course not. I happen to know a pothead in Korea. But such people are rarities out here. And not just because of the three year minimum. It's expensive. Usually, you only find it in the inner circles of rich kids out here. However, if you're willing to pay, you can get it. What's the going rate compared to America? A eighth of an ounce of weed in America is about fifty dollars, depending on quality (not that I've ever touched the stuff myself). The same amount will go for upwards of five hundred and twenty dollars here in Korea. Steep price to pay to get high.

I'm going to give the win to Korea, because even with some ridiculous drug policies, abolishing the serious drugs I think is for the greater good.

Drugs Winner: Korea 

Revealing Clothing - Say what? That's right. This is a category. This one is just so insane it needs to be discussed. Cleavage is seen as pure evil in Korea. Allow me to explain. Women, on the whole, do not wear low cut shirts out here. My white friends who have done such things are usually referred by offensive names by Koreans. One woman I know was yelled at on the beach for wearing a low cut top. This is not a joke.

However, Koreans have absolutely no problem wearing the shortest short short shorty short skirts I have ever seen in my entire life. This is not seen as risque in any way. No skirt is too short. Even in church. Now, I'm not complaining about this phenomenon (trust me) but I do think this is an example of Korea being xenophobic.

You see, Korean women are known for having amazing legs. So the mentality is, why not show them off? However, they are also known for being, shall we say, less voluptuous than western women. And therefore, low cut shirts aren't as much fun out here. So I think this is just a case of Korea needing to grow up a little bit and see outside the box. I say bring on the revealing clothing! Tops and bottoms!

Revealing Clothing Winner: America

Image - Alright folks, this is the interesting one, so pay attention. Image is something so important in Korea. Part of this comes from an obsession with status, part of it comes from being a country who just recently inherited a great deal of wealth, part of it comes from the fact that image is important in almost all Asian countries. But what does that mean, image? Let's see.

For starters, you can't find a car more than five years old on the streets, unless if it's a classic or a Benz or something that I couldn't afford with a year's salary. People are always dressed up, never will you come across someone not looking their best, even if they're just going to the supermarket. There's none of this People of Wal-Mart nonsense (http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?page_id=9804). Everybody's looking sharp all the time. And not just clothing wise. I'm talking hair, jewelry, and most importantly, everyone here is thin. Fat is evil here, and that's not me being cute.

My friend Rick told me that, upon asking his students what was the worst thing you could be, whether it be a liar or a thief or whatever, many of his students responded "fat." Two of the girls I've dated out here have thought of themselves as needing to lose weight. Both of these girls were gorgeous and had fantastic bodies. One was skinny. Not thin. Skinny. And still she thought she needed to lose weight. The second was thin, borderline skinny. Her mother and all her friends always tell her what a great body she had before she got all fat. Keep in mind this girl has a body many girls in the United States would kill for. Whatever happened to inner beauty?

And yeah, that's really messed up. The judgment factor in Korea is through the roof. Perfection is demanded in all facets of life. It's not surprising Korea has the second highest rate of suicide of any country in the world (Belarus is number one). Image is so important that it becomes all encompassing, obsessive, frightening.

But before we condemn Korea as a bunch of superficial fools, let's talk about America for a bit .We're a country that celebrates inner beauty, has the "don't judge me mentality," and is responsible for great shows like "The Biggest Loser," that promote people to lose weight and be healthy.  I dig it. Problem is, in Korea, they would never need a show like "The Biggest Loser," because people take care of their bodies there. They don't let each other get fat, because they are obsessed about appearance and judge each other like crazy. And while that sounds bad, the opposite is our country, where 74.1% of people are overweight or obese.

Really? Really?

That means if you're not overweight, the three people you're chilling with probably are. And my friends, I'm not saying fat is evil, because it's not. But there's something to be said for being healthy and looking fit. Maybe there's something to be said about judging each other, too. This whole "don't judge me" mentality I think can be a bad thing sometimes. Maybe Americans should judge each other more. Not in a condescending and asshole kind of way, but in a way where we strive to make each other better people, inside and out. That's why I've always loved my family and friends (most of the people reading this), for calling me out if I'm acting a fool, or getting unhealthy, or treating people like crap, I know I've got people watching my every step and ready to call me a jackass. That's the good kind of judging.

But let's not go crazy. We don't need to become anorexic or so concerned about image we become suicidal. Just like Koreans shouldn't become so lax on their view of image that they all get fat and wear sweatpants everywhere. I'm just saying maybe we could both learn something from the other country.


Image Winner: Tie. Both countries are dumb when it comes to image.

But all that aside, I think people, despite all these silly cultural differences, are pretty much the same everywhere. The things I see over here, the way kids play, the couples in love, and the people yelling at each other in the streets, all I can think is how much this place really is like anywhere else, as seen below, with my buddy Young, a girl from the orphanage, and a picture of me downtown.

 

 

Yes, people truly are the same everywhere. But giant scary puppets are not. The picture was merely a rouge. Moments after the above picture was taken, I did terrible, unspeakable things to that demonic stuffed man. The world is now a better place.

As a brief side note, to my Americans on my trip home from Christmas to New Years. This is an apology. To those of you I didn't see, my sincerest regrets. I miss the hell out of you, and I wish I could have seen you.

And to all those I did see, whether it be once, twice or five times, I promise you it wasn't enough and it killed me to leave. If I acted aloof, or like I didn't care, don't buy into it. Coming home made me happy beyond words, even if I didn't always show it. Thank you, to all my family and friends. It was truly a (and I know this is going to sound super lame, but it really is the right word for it) MAGICAL trip home. Uh, I feel dirty saying that for some reason.

Much love all. I miss you crazy Americans.

- Overly Sentimental Dude

Post #12

Hello Fellow English Speakers,

Believe it or not, my inability to speak Korean has certain downfalls in this country.

For instance, it is not uncommon for a knockout girl to come up to me and say I look like Brad Pitt (mostly because all white people look the same). I'll say to her a few key lines in Korean, she'll giggle, and then five seconds later, we'll run out of things to talk about, because my Korean sucks and she "no speaka Englishee."

Or when my Korean neighbor who owns the sam-bop (pork and rice) restaurant on my block tells me she wants me to come over for dinner. Sure dinner's delicious, but the conversation trickles to nothing after I tell her she's a great cook. We just trade smiles and uncomfortable laughs. It's especially a bummer in this case because she wants me to marry her daughter. Her daughter is a ballerina.


But you know what the worst part about not being able to speak Korean is?

People in this country think I'm retarded.

There. I said it.

It doesn't matter whether or not they think I'm Johnny Depp. On the inside, they think I'm a moron. Allow me to explain.

It's the little things. Like when I bought some beer the other day at the Mini-Stop (the Korean version of CVS) for 7,000 won (about 7 bucks). So I throw the guy 12,000 won (one 10,000 won bill and two 1,000 won bills) because I want to get a 5,000 won bill in return (12 - 7 = 5). The guy looks at the money, shakes his head, hands me back the two 1,000 won bills I handed him, and then takes three more out of the register and tries to give them to me. I shake my head and keep saying "five" in Korean. He doesn't understand. I persist, through pointing and speaking broken Korean, but it's pointless. He just looked at me like I had just run over his dog with my car.

Or the cafeteria I go to on weekdays. It's buffet-style, kickass authentic Korean food. And of course, buffet style means all you can eat, which is music to my hungry ears. The food changes every day. It's always good, but my favorite day is sweet and sour pork day. I like to do it China Gourmet style, and throw my pork over my rice, then cover it in sweet and sour sauce. So that's what I proceeded to do. But, as soon as I started loading pork on my rice, one of the cafeteria workers ran up. She started scolding me in Korean, and using tongs to take my pork off of my rice and put it onto an empty section of my tray. I tried to explain to her that I liked my pork on my rice, but she was not having it. So I waited til I got back to my seat, and then moved the pork back onto my rice, the whole time looking over my shoulder to see if she was watching. It made me feel like a five year old taking extra cookies when mom wasn't looking.

But enough about my inability to go to another country and speak their language. Let's talk culture.

You guys remember the SAT's right? Oh man. That test got no love. Well, high school seniors in Korea need to take a similar test they refer to as "the Korean SAT." But I feel like that is slightly misleading. Misleading how, you ask? Let me draw you an analogy. The American SAT's are to the Korean SAT's as BB guns are to rocket launchers. I know some kids in America "study" for the SAT, but not like this. Students graduate high school and then study FOR A YEAR for this test. And if they don't do well, they will just STUDY FOR ANOTHER YEAR AND THEN TAKE IT AGAIN. That's right, no school. Just studying. For one test. For one year. Holy crap.

What's on this test? Well, you pretty much need to have to have memorized all of Korean history, and there's a lot of it. Also, you have to be skilled in university level mathematics. Stuff like multi-variable calculus. Are you getting scared yet? Then there's a death defying Korean language section. And of course, the foreign language section, the two major choices being English and Chinese. More on that in a bit. But this test works in the same way as our SAT's. You want to go to Seoul National University (Korea's Harvard), well then you best get above the top 99.7 percentile. And if your brother went there and your father went there, you best go there too. If you don't, it can be very shameful. Saying the pressure's on would be an understatement.

However, there is an upside. No matter how you do on the test, you get a certificate saying you took it. This certificate is good for 50% off any plastic surgery procedure you want, anywhere in Korea.

Let me state for all of you who think I'm being cute, that the preceding statement was completely true.

And as for the language test, I don't know too much about the Chinese, but the English section is horribly flawed. Not to say our SAT's don't have some (countless) problems, but let me break it down for you. I tutor a fifteen year old girl. Her English is great, dancing somewhere between advanced and fluent. Sure she messes up here and there, but I've talked with a fair amount of fifteen year olds in Gwang-ju and their English isn't even in the same ballpark as her's.

So why bring her up? Well, in her "English" classes at public school, they are just drilled on vocabulary and grammar. There is no speaking, no sort of comprehension, no understanding. What does this translate to? Well, she's an "average" student in her class. But I guarantee 95% of the kids in her class couldn't read or discuss the books she does with me, let alone have the conversations we have. However, these kids know words the vast majority of native English speakers do not. Like the word "apotheosis." No, don't feel bad. Go ahead. Look it up. The blog will be here when you get back.

But I love having class with her. She's a typical (maniacal) fifteen year old girl: she can't trust any of her friends and all she cares about is being super pretty. One day, we were having a conversation about a book we were reading. One of the messages was "you should try to see the good in everything and everyone." I asked her if she always saw the good in everyone, if she liked everyone.

She responded. "Yes, I like everyone." Then paused, thought about it for a second, and said. "Except the fat one."

And we're back to the superficiality. Thank God. 

But let's stop focusing on the bad. Let's talk about Korean weddings. That's right, I went to a Korean wedding. I was invited by Alex Kim, my Kumdo brother, to watch his cousin tie the knot. Never before have I been so entertained and confused at a wedding ceremony. Much to tell. Allow me to break it up.

Pre-wedding: So, Korean weddings are quick and dirty jobs. Everyone gets married on days considered to be lucky, and many couples flock to the same marriage halls. While waiting for each wedding to start, it is a little chaotic. Lots of people in the waiting area, moving around, taking pictures. There are only about three things you can really do in the pre-wedding: talk to people, take pictures of the bride, or look at the viewbook. Since I don't speak Korean well and didn't know anyone really, number one was out. As for the bride, she was mobbed. Everyone was snapping photos of her. She was lovely, posing on this white thrown in a white wedding dress, in this plush pink room. But there were too many relatives around to snap pictures, so I took a gander at the viewbook. Now, in America, we know most people have wedding photo albums. But they get those after the wedding. Forget that. This is Korea. They do their albums before.

To fully describe their albums, or viewbooks, is an exercise in futility. There is just too much to say. I guess the best way to describe them is to say they look like a montage from a romantic comedy. In all the pictures, the couple is laughing or dancing or pointing at each other from opposite sides of a park bench or sitting in a computer chair together, half-falling and not caring, with her in her wedding dress and him in his suit. Sounds corny right? Now usually, I would agree. I don't normally dig such cutesy things, but for some reason, I got a kick out of the Korean viewbook. It was kinda nice, kinda funny. Maybe it was because they looked really in love. Maybe it's because he's a doctor and she's a nurse and it painted a good story of that. I don't know. But either way, when I met the groom, Alex's cousin, I had to tell him I liked the viewbook. "Thank you, but it's not real," he responded.

I was confused. He went onto explain that all the pictures are digitally enhanced. Not just blemishes removed, but people are actually made taller, slimmer, curvier, stronger, better teeth, etc.than they are in real life. And for whatever reason, that made me a little sad. Until the wedding started.

The Wedding: The wedding was just like an American one, except totally different (and in some ways, better). First of all, the whole ceremony is in Korean (surprise!) and because of that I have no idea what was said. But here's what I could gather.

Before the groom walks up to the altar/marriage stage, he yells something at the top of his lungs. It's on a case by case basis what he actually says. Something like "I LOVE THIS WOMAN AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!" or "SHE IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD!" or "SHE IS MY KIM-CHI!" or pretty much whatever they want to say really. Either way, I thought that was very cool and should be adopted by all cultures.

Sure, there were a few too many pictures taken during the ceremony, but I could get over that because of the singing and the feats of strength. Singing and feats of strength? Yes, both are as cool as they sound. In Korean weddings, it's customary for the bride, groom, and any friends and family of their choosing, to serenade the couple with a song. The best part is, it's not about singing ability. I know this because, when the groom sang to his new wife, he really belted it out, and not in the good way. His high notes sounded like a pre-pubescent boy screeching. But you could tell it came from the heart, and it almost made it better that he was kind of a crappy singer.

And as for the feats of strength, there is a tradition where the groom has to essentially do squats with the bride on his back while he counts out loud and, after each number, she says "tonight, we just go to bed." Draw your own conclusions. I found it hilarious.

Then at the end, they take a whole bunch more pictures (I was in one!) and the bride and groom get shot with a confetti cannon the size of a bazooka. I am very sorry I missed a photo opportunity of that one.

The Second Wedding?: But that's not where the fun ends, sportsfans. Afterwards, there's a traditional ceremony where the bride, groom, and their parents, dress up in Hanboks (the traditional Korean clothing). There, in front of family, they act as god and goddess in a scene that can only be described as looking like a Eastern Style painting. Truly beautiful, beautiful stuff.

Then the parents throw fruit for the children to catch in a blanket, thus giving hope for a fruitful marriage. A very unique tradition for sure, and one I am a very big fan of. A good meshing of past and present.

The Buffet: Of course, no wedding would be complete without an enormous buffet and afternoon beers. So - Korean weddings, not really that different after all.

Otherwise, that is all I got for you beautiful people today.

Oh, except I fractured my foot. Sword fighting. I know, I know. But, no one said the life of a ninja was easy. I'll be rocking a neon green cast for the next four weeks. So, when you see my smiling face back in mi-guk (America) in 12 days, I'll have a little extra swagger in my step. Some might call it a limp. Either way, ladies, I promise, you'll love it.

I miss and love you all and will see you all very, very, VERY soon.

-The Hobbling Ninja

Post #11

Hello Hopeless Romantics,


People, people. Quiet down, take your seats. I have an announcement to make:

I'M IN LOVE!

That's right party people, Kim Hye-Soo, Korean movie star, has officially captured my heart. And do you  blame me?

Despite the fact that she's 43 and far out of my league, I am absolutely committed to making her my wife. Where did this love affair start? Watching the movie "Tazza: The High Rollers." It's a film centered around the game of Korean Poker, where cheating is not only a temptation, but a requirement to winning--so long as you don't get caught. It's honestly one of the best films I've ever seen. Featuring an all-star cast I've never heard of before, Tazza is a mix of drama, romance, comedy, and of course, plenty of ass-kicking. It's one helluva ride, as long as you don't mind subtitles.

But this isn't a movie review site, so let's move on to more important (but less sexy) matters. As you have probably heard, North Korea and South Korea shelled a disputed territory near the DMZ on Tuesday. I want to let you all know, the situation here is not a state of war. This is not 9/11 for South Koreans. Most Koreans I talked to actually laughed about the matter. It wasn't out of a lack of respect for the two dead soldiers. It was more laughter at the absurdity of North Korea. They compare Kim Jung-Il to a child throwing a temper-tantrum. No one here is worried. So long as relations with the good ole U S of A stay firm, there is not a thing to worry about. Kim Jung-Il is crazy, but not crazy enough to mess with America. And I would like to applaud the maturity of the South Korean government throughout this ordeal, although the long term ramifications have yet to be seen..

And for those of you out there who care about me (and really, why wouldn't you if you were reading this blog?), if things go to hell here, I swear to you all, I will get out. I love teaching here, but not if North Korea figures out how to have nuclear weapons.

But enough with the war talk. How bout some updates?

Kumdo: I now officially know how to slice off a man's wrist, and then decapitate him before you can say "kim-chi." And I look damn good doing it, too. I have four strikes at my disposal to put a blade through a man's skull, two ways to dice off his wrist, and if I'm feeling frisky, I can even cut him in half long ways, in a classic "hur-i" strike. Am I a ninja? Do you really have to ask?

And while all the above are true, it's not quite as impressive as you would think. There is a thirty-year-old couple in my Kumdo gym, who have two daughters, ages five and seven, that also sometimes practice with us. It was just in the last few weeks I surpassed these grade school girls in ability. Yeah, that's right. I am now better at Kumdo than a second grader. I feel like Kramer in that Seinfeld episode where he's throwing around all the little kids in karate.

However, for my dedication, I will soon earn my "Hogu," or Kumdo armor, and then I truly become part of the gym. I have to get it specialty made in China and pay extra because it turns out I'm freakishly tall for Asia. Who knew?

Also, if I ever had a fear of full-frontal male nudity, it has now been dispelled. Why, you ask, oh blog reader? Well, it's Kumdo custom is to bow to everyone in your gym when you see them for the first time, a sign of respect. Well, the gym includes the locker room, too. That translates to naked dudes pouring out of the shower, wearing nothing but a smile and bowing to me, saying "Anya-shim-nika!"

There are truly no words to describe how inadequate I felt to handle that situation.

But that was the first time. Now it doesn't bother me at all. Hell, I do it. And as a tip to all you ladies (and a few of you gents out there), turns out Korean men are naturally hairless, if you're into that sort of thing.

And while we're talking about naked men, one of my Kumdo buddies asked me out for a beer the other day. We showered together, he bought me drinks all night, and then walked me home. But again, people, it's Korea, so it's not gay. He's just an older brother (Hyung) taking care of a younger brother (Dongseng).

Actually, he's become a good friend of mine. The coolest thing happened that night. We were discussing everything under the sun, and I found out he was Catholic. He told me the only man he ever sponsored for Confirmation ended up becoming a priest. Fairly impressive, I thought. But then we get talking about Confirmation names, and he tells me he's never had an English name before. So he asks me to give him one.

A thirty-two-year-old sword-fighting married-man asked me to name him. How does one come up with a name for such a man? I just thought of who he reminded me of. Older brother? Confirmation sponsor? Paying for drinks all night? The choice was obvious: I'd name him after Alex Schmidt.

So, in the eyes of all the stupid Americans who cannot pronounce Korean names, Alex Kim was born anew.

But all jokes aside it was a huge honor to name him, and he is a true friend. He even hit on all the girls in the bar for me. All I had to do was sit around and look pretty.

Food: I always think it's better to give bad news before good news. Maybe it's the optimist in me, or the desire to end on a good note. Either way, here goes.

The Bad News--I mentioned before there existed the persimmon, a fruit that looked like a tomato, was hard as a potato, tasted like apple cinnamon, and made me wonder why fruit in America didn't make me as happy. The bad news is, I found something better--and most Americans don't have access to it. The original fruit I had described to you was the hard persimmon. Just the other day, I discovered the soft persimmon. And unless you can find it in your town, people, you are missing out on something truly special. It is soft, looks like a tomato, but tastes like a combination mango, apple, banana, tomato. Sounds strange, but I swear to you it's the pinnacle of fruits. I just ate one. No fruit compares, I don't care how good you think pineapple is. The soft persimmon can make you fall in love again.

The Good News--You don't have to eat the crap food in this country. And if you think of me as imperialistic or elitist for thinking I somehow know better than Koreans, you're simply wrong. My argument is valid and logical and it is the Koreans who are wrong. What am I talking about? Korean pig part street food. They decided, instead of putting all the crappy parts of the pig into making something useful, like a hot dog, they grill it and sell it on the street. What's parts, you ask? Are you sure you want to know? Super sure?

Pig lungs, heart, and intestines. Yeah. Some teacher friends and myself were challenged by a group of Korean bartenders. We could not turn down such a challenge. How were the lungs, heart, and intestines? One was okay, one was awful, and one...well let's just say if I could go back and time and change anything, it wouldn't be the Lincoln assassination. It would be eating this. Take a guess, which one was the worst. Really, think about it. While you're thinking, look at the beauty of this soft persimmon, photographed by yours truly. It should clear your mind. 

Yum yum.

Now on to business. So which of the three made me hate the world?
 
Was it the intestines? Good try but sorry. Those actually didn't taste bad, kind of like Oscar Mayer Bologna, but with a weird slimy consistency. 

Was it the lungs? No. They tasted like...well you know those old vacuum cleaners, the ones that didn't have bags, they just kind of collected dirt on a grated thing in the middle? Eating the lungs was like eating some of that, only meatier. But still, that was not the worst. 

Was it the heart? Of course it was. People, I'm not picky. I had fried cuttle fish that night, which most find disgusting. But the heart, I couldn't handle it. You ever hear the saying: "The heart is the strongest muscle in the body?" That ain't no lie. This pig's heart was tough, rubbery, with the stale taste of blood mixed in with a sickening sweetness that makes your stomach do barrel rolls. But none of that was what really messed you up. What really gets you are the ventricles. You're chewing your way through, trying not to vomit, and then crunch. The ventricles, the giant veins going through the heart, are crunchy. There is no way to prepare yourself for such a terrible revelation, but dear God, it really does rock you.


Cell phones: So, I got a cell phone. Turns out, Korea is the most mobile place on earth. The whole country has excellent service, probably because it's so small. Elevators? No problem. Subways? Sure! North Korea? Probably not. But still, it's very impressive. I got the cheapest phone I could, and it takes great quality photos and videos. The call quality is clear. And it's even kind of a cool looking phone. Called the "Ice Cream." Here's a random K-pop boy band shamelessly peddling  the ice cream (click here). It's proof that if you think commercials in America have become undignified and soulless, we've still got a long way to go.

But the truth is, I hate my phone for two excellent reasons. The first is that the last four digits are 1230. Sounds awesome right? Well, the person who had this number before me evidently thought so too. And she neglected to tell all her friends that she either died or got a new number. Now, every few days I get a random call and text from her friends and family, who yell at me angrily in Korean because I'm not who they wanted. I thought about learning how to say "wrong number" in Korean, but it's funny. I really just don't care. Plus I get some damn pretty picture messages of family reunions on lakes.

I also hate my phone because it has an English setting that is almost completely useless. Sure, it switches some of the Korean into English on the menus, but when it comes to texting and settings, it's all straight Ko-re-an. It make it impossible to do simple things like attach a picture or understand who the hell is calling me.

The only cool thing is I get free cable TV on my phone, just like everyone else in Korea. Crystal clear and smooth. Which reminds me...

Taxis: Korea is more technically advanced when it comes to mobile technology. Every cab driver has a kick-ass GPS system that makes a virtual 3D map of his surroundings, and doubles as a cable TV.

This is yet another reason why I sometimes truly hate this country. The cab drivers in this country rip around, going 60 kilometers/hour over the speed limit (however fast that is), weaving in and out of traffic, all the while watching Korean soap operas. I fear for my life every time I go downtown in a cab. But you're probably saying, "Dan, I've lived in (insert big city name here) and the drivers there drive like (insert swear word here), Korea can't be that much worse." And all that would be fine and true if it weren't for these two facts.

1. Seat belts in Korean taxis are as rare as white people in this country.

2. Korea has the second most car accidents per person per year of any country.

I know. I'm sure you're shocked by the second fact. I couldn't believe it either. I'm sure you'll be even more surprised when I tell you China is number one for car accidents. I'll leave you to draw your own stereotypical conclusions.

Church: My friends, I've been going to an all Korean Church. I don't really understand what they're saying, but I get the general gist. So one day, after Mass, the priest asked me to stop by and chat. Father Andrew is his name, or in Korean (son shin-bo-nim). Awesome guy, really funny and down to Earth. Speaks pretty good English. We hang out and talk for a good hour about life and faith and Korea and America. On my way out, he asks me if I want to meet the youth group at the church. My knee jerk reaction is "Hell no," but I said "Yes" because I wanted to be polite. You see, I find many youth groups in the States to be, well, Jesus Freaks. I'm all about being Catholic, but sometimes these youth groups get to be a little nutty and make me uncomfortable. So I said yes and tentatively went to Mass that next Sunday night, waiting for Mass to end to meet this group and get it over with.

So imagine the look on my face when Father Andrew called out "Dan! Dan!" at the end of Mass. That's right, party people, he dragged me up in front of the entire congregation and made me introduce myself. Handed me a microphone. There, in broken Korean and little kid English, I talked to a room full of over one hundred Koreans. Afterwards, they applauded me and welcomed me into their church. It was one of the most humbling things to happen to this Greenfield boy in his twenty-two years of life.

And as for the youth group? Turns out all they do is get bombed after church together. The sickest I've been in Korea was the night I pounded so-ju with my church youth group. Awesome. But, I was not nearly as hungover as I was after Father Andrew and I went out one night for ma-ka-lee, the traditional Korean wine. The two of us stayed out til two in the morning, drinking ma-ka-lee and talking life and religion. 

And that's where I want to take you, a moment in history that truly touched him, and is worth knowing about Korea, and specifically, Gwang-ju. I want to take you back to May 18th, 1980, Gwang-ju. The site of the May 18th massacre.

Politics are, of course, always a changing front. In Korea, the opposition between the people of Gwang-ju seeking a democratic government and Chun Doo-hwan's military dictatorship. A ten day uprising, beginning on May 18th, led to a crushing defeat of the people by the South Korean military.  One could draw many parallels to the events at Tienanmen Square. People were mowed down by machine gun fire. Horrible things happened, to protesters, soldiers, children, animals. I will not mention the things I have heard because they are not fit to write or say. And while this stands as a black mark in Korea's history, it is also a point of change, to a more free South Korea, a shift towards a democratic state. This dichotomy, this turning point, is tattooed in the brains of those who lived to witness it. Men like Father Andrew, who lost his best friend and decided to enter the priesthood because of what he saw those ten days.

In a way though, I applaud Korea for not doing what China did and covering the whole thing up, as the Chinese did with Tienanmen Square. I've been Tienanmen Square. There is no memorial, no sign, no knowledge that anything ever happened. It was erased, a la Big Brother in "1984." Such things terrify me. But South Korea, with great wisdom, embraced the horror of this day and remembered it. It is now a national holiday.

This country is so fascinating, there is so much to learn and see and do. I've almost been here three months, and yet I learn something new every day. I wish I could share with you everything, but there is only so much time, and there is so much to write.

And my God, would you look at Kim Hye-Soo? She makes me hate and love my eyes at the same time.

So to summarize, people. War is bad, love is good, and Kim Hye-Soo will be my wife someday soon. You can all come to the wedding. But that's all for me today. Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy that dark meat turkey and that gravy and stuffing and pumpkin pie. Some of us will be eating rotten cabbage on this day. And as I said, love is good. I love you all very much. And miss you, too.

-Peacedan

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

Post #9

ConFoley say


Hello my drunken Confucianism students! That's right kids, today we'll be talking about perhaps the two most significant parts of Korean culture, Confucianism (with all it's intonations and cultural ramifications) and beer. But don't worry, this isn't going to be a boring analysis of Confucianism. We're talking about the real world applications of this philosophy, how it plays out and what it means to the people here. Plus, if you get bored, there's always the beer part.

But before we get to going, let me hit with a few Korea tidbits to jump start this party.

Me and a few of the teachers were out at a club the other night, sitting at a table, having some drinks. My friend and I were sitting at a table with what I thought to be a cute Korean girl.  My friend seems to be digging her. He's charming her left and right, and then, the next thing I know, he's kissing her. But after a little bit of that, he abruptly stops. He pulls away, leans back, and has this look on his face that something is horribly, horribly wrong. She sticks around for a few more minutes, then leaves. Afterwards, he turns to me and says:

"Foley, did you notice anything weird about her?"


I shake my head no.

He looks at me, disturbed. I press him to tell what happened, and like a scared child, he tells me. "Well, we kissed, and uh, there was something off."

"What?" I asked.

"She didn't have any front teeth," he said flatly. "Like most of the top row was missing."

Now, I'm not one of these guys who needs a girl with perfect teeth but, just saying, that strikes me as a turn off.

And while we're on the subject of physicality, let's talk about losing weight. People, if you're trying to shed some excess poundage, come to Korea. I've lost a cool five or ten pounds out here and put on a little bit of muscle (that's right, ladies). But, if you can't visit this excellent nation, and you're trying to cut those pounds, I recommend eating like the Koreans do. What does that mean? Three things: cutting out the red meat (Korea's all mountains, no grazing room = no cows), switching from bread to rice (trust me, I love sandwiches, but not eating them has made me a healthier boy), and eating ridiculously spicy food. Why spicy food, you ask? It makes you feel fuller than you actually are. Give it a try. You'll see what I mean.

And speaking of food, they have this thing out here called ho-duck. Despite the name, it's neither an insult to women nor is it made out of meat. Ho-duck basically a deep fried pancake dusted with sugar and loaded with a butter cinnamon sauce. It's dirt cheap street food and readily available. Did I mention I love this country?



But I'm trying to keep the theme going, so let's get back to the Confucianism. It has a lot of elements, but the one that stands out the most is the concept of Filial piety, or the respect of the Five Bonds:

• Ruler to Ruled
• Father to Son
• Husband to Wife
• Elder Brother to Younger Brother
• Friend to Friend

Only the last one is an equal bond. The rest, hierarchy. What this means in the real world is that women are below men and age is extremely important in Korea. Ladies, they will ask your age here. It's not considered rude. It's about where you stand with them. It really matters. You have to pay homage to those older than you. In what way, you ask? 

Little things, like the youngest person at the table has to pour the beer from the pitcher in everyone's glasses. Or the oldest brother can boss around his little brothers and sisters and they have to do what he says, just because he's older. And this doesn't just apply to children or drinking. My boss's younger brother (who is in his thirties) isn't allowed to marry anyone until she say's it's cool. She has to approve, or no wedding. That's what's up.


I have a single story that perfectly encompasses this phenomenon. It starts, as all good things dude, after beating on my new friends with a bamboo sword.

My kumdo (Korean sword fighting class) brothers seem to get a kick out of me. They're all older than me, so it means I have to pay them respect. I'm required to call them hyung-nim, which means older brother. And they call me "stupid" because I can't pronounce any of their names. However, they offered, one night, to take me out for mek-ju (beer) and sushi. I graciously accepted with a single thought in mind--these Koreans aren't gonna know what hit them.

Hell, I'm a young America guy, fresh out of college. A group of short, old Korean men can't keep up with the liver of a 22-year-old white giant. How wrong I was.

Learned a lot that night. Learned that so-mek (or the combination of mek-ju (beer) and so-ju (rice liquor) in the same glass) gets you really, really tanked, really, really fast. I heard legends that Koreans, as a country, drink more per person than any other country in the entire world (except for Russia). I don't know whether or not that's true, but my God, they can put them away. I've been sick only once so far in Korea, and it was after that night. On the plus side, raw fish tastes about the same on way up as it does on the way down.


But the social dynamic of sitting at a table with a whole bunch of Koreans, ranging in age from 26 to 53, all friends, taught me a lot about how age and gender matters in the everyday drinking culture of Korea. For instance, women can be openly mocked. And it's perfectly fine. I found this out while some of the kumdo guys were asking me if I liked Korean girls. I asked them, "Is the Pope Catholic?" and we all had a laugh. But this led to what was, for me, a very difficult and awkward position for sure.

One of the fellow kumdo ninjas at the table was nice girl named Heri probably in her mid-twenties. She was a little wider of a girl, but still cute, definitely had a pretty face. The guys decided to pose an interesting question. 

"What do you think of Heri?"

Keep in mind she's sitting right across from me. So I tell the truth. "She's pretty."

My kumdo brothers exploded, yelling out "No! No! No! No pretty! No pretty! Too big! Too big!... etc. etc." She took it in jest (and thanked me) but all I could think was how that would never, ever fly in the States. American girls would go on a shooting spree put in that situation. But this totally flies in Korea. Hell, that's probably why half of the girls out here get plastic surgery, and most of the other half think they need it.

Same deal with another female in my kumdo glass. She's lovely, in great shape, and a nurse. But because she's 31 and unmarried, they call her "old maid." No lie.


Age means everything out here. After crushing the so-mek all night and eating plate after plate of something that resembled General Tso's chicken, we were ready to call it a night. So I reach for my wallet and everyone starts to walk out, and I'm thinking, "No way can I afford this." What I then see is our elder kumdo brother, Gyum-Gi Hyung-nim, walk out from the kitchen after covering the whole tab. Because he's the oldest. There was ten of us out that night. It's just what's expected. He didn't mind, nor did anyone else offer.

And it's not enough that age is super important out here. Just to complicate things, Korean age is different than American age. In America, you start at zero and gain a year at each birthday. It's, you know, based off of logic. In Korea, when you're born, you're one. Then for every year you're alive, you get an extra year. But not year as in the amount of years you have under your belt (i.e. I was born on January 9th, so every January 9th I am one year older), every year you're alive you gain a year. So, if I was born in 1955, and now it's 1956, I've been alive for two years as of January 1st, 1956. So I'm two. I think.

By my math my Korean age is somewhere between twenty-four and sixty-three. I'm still trying to figure it out. So I just tell people I'm 22. That way, I'm the youngest I can be and I dodge covering the tab. I don't mind pouring the beer.

And speaking of beer, if you don't believe the Koreans are serious about their alcoholism, check this out. They decided that American 40's (that's right, I'm talking about the 40oz. beers that are only drunk by homeless men and college students) were just not enough beer. So they have 2 liters of beer here. Or for you non-metric people, 66oz. of liquid. They call it a pitcher. But it's in a bottle. Fantastic.


But if you'll indulge me, I want to end this blog entry on a serious note. Confucianism breeds some very, very good things: respect for the elders, importance of families, and free drinks to us young folk. But they are so unbelievably focused on this idea of the Confucian understanding of social connections that sometimes, things get really messed up.


My example is the Sung Bin Orphanage. I started volunteering there. And before you start patting me on the back for my great deed for humanity, just know it's a two hour a week commitment and I only do it as a feeble attempt to counterbalance all the bad stuff I've done in my life. Sung Bin Orphanage is here in Gwang-ju. I heard they're always looking for volunteers, so I decided to check it out one Saturday. I've been going the last three weeks.

It's a girl's orphanage, with about eighty of the cutest Korean girls you've ever seen, ranging in age from one to eighteen. We don't do a whole lot, just little things like take them to the park on sunny days, or do art projects with them. We just finished a Dr. Seuss mural of "Oh The Places You'll Go." My biggest contribution is my drawings of Simpsons and Garfield style characters that I give to the girls. I'll do a quick sketch and they'll color it in. My only qualm with it is that they color-in Homer's shirt in all hot pink and sky blue and florescent green and it just makes him look like a hippie golfer, which he's never been (although he's been both separately). But they seem happy, so I guess I can let it go. Plus there's this one little girl who played soccer with me for twenty minutes the other day and she can color Homer any way she wants.

But there's a fair amount of western volunteers (all teachers) and high school and college aged Korean girls who help out, try to set a positive role model for the girls. The guy who heads it is this college professor here in Korea, a guy in his fifties who goes by 'Al.' If any of you have ever read my book, he's almost exactly what I picture Jazz to look, sound, and act like. But he warns me, on my first day, how rough things are for these girls. I mean, they have resources and food and so many good people taking care of them. But there's this one little girl, can't be much older than three, that calls him oh-pa (father) and here's her story.

In America, to go to an orphanage, your parents need to be either dead, in prison, or insane. Here, that's not the case. This little girl was born to a married couple. Things didn't work out between Mom and Dad, and so they split. Mom got custody. Picks up the pieces, moves on, and meets another guy. Falls in love. The guy wants to marry her. Things are great. Except, he's not about to raise some other guy's kid. Not his bloodline, he's not interested. And so Mom makes a choice, chooses the man, and now her daughter lives at the orphanage.


That's right, sports fans, in Korea, if you don't want your kid, you can give them up to an orphanage, no questions asked. And this is where Confucianism hits a snag. Bloodline trumps all. Not a lot of stuff gets through to me, but that did.

Say what you will about Americans and about Catholicism and all the imperialism done by both (and trust me, there's plenty of fault to find in both), but those are the two biggest reasons orphanages exist in Korea in the first place. Makes me proud to be both.

And man, you gotta wonder when you see these girls how someone could say no.




But this is not an attack on Korea or Confucianism, two things that, most of the time, I'm really down with. It's just tough, because when you experience things that shake you down to the core of your being, it's tough to remember the good. But there is so much of that too. And when I realize that, I find my peace.


I will leave you with this, a picture of me meditating after kumdo, and a quote from the man himself, Confucius.

  
"I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand."

As always, miss you cats, love you cats. Go do something. Orders from Dr. Confucius. 

-Kumdo Guy