So I got down and dirty today and made my first batch of Kimchi. Now I really had no idea what went into the process of making that rotten dish, but when you read the ingredients you'll just be perplexed that it could make anything at all. In fact, when looking at everything on the table and on the stove, I seriously thought we were missing a couple of things: "Um, where's the eye of newt, toe of frog, and can that stove hold a cauldron?"
Anyway, here's The Oh Family Kimchi recipe:
1 flat of cabbage
1/2 large radish
2 gallons of red pepper powder
1-2 cups of salted shrimp sauce
1 handful of chives (or chive like herb)
1 handful of cilantro-esque herb (only visually. it tasted nothing like cilantro)
1 hefty pour of salted lancefish sauce
2 cups of water boiled with onions, mushrooms, and fish heads
1/2 cup raw rice powder (that's what the dictionary said...?)
and finally, a few pinches of lightly toasted sesame seeds.
1. So begin by boiling those fishheads, onions and mushrooms. Make sure that it really smells. I mean, close all the windows, and let it boil for a long time, so long that your homestay comes home and immediately suppresses his gag reflux.
2. While waiting, chop up the herbs and radishes, and mince the garlic. Also, wash and quarter the cabbage and let it drip dry.
3. Pour the boiling water into the raw rice powder or whatever the hell it is, it looks pasty. Is it paste? Can a reach in and dip my finger before she pours the water? No, just assume it's powder... but it really looks like a paste.
4. A few splashes at a time, make that demonic looking bucket of fiery red hell for your tastebuds into a paste.
5. It's time to mix in your veggies. (Note: All those vegetarians who thought kimchi was safe to eat, I just want to say... HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! There's so much fish product in this recipe!!! This is almost better than the time that I made a veggie stir-fry in bacon grease because I ran out of olive oil!!! HAHAHAHAHHA!!!!)
6. Toast those seeds. Throw 'em in the bucket. Never attempt to learn the word for seeds without consulting a dictionary; acting out "seed" is next to impossible.
7. Did you add the salted shrimp sauce? NO!?!? Oh Jesus!!! Well, do it now, I hope you didn't screw up this whole batch. God, stupid American!
8. Add a hefty pour of the salted lancefish sauce, but make sure you take a big whiff of it first. Does it smell bad? Does you brain feel like it's licking a nail polish lollipop? Does your host mother think you need to sit down and rest? Yes?
Good. That means it's still fresh.
9. Mix it up real nice, yeah, use that beefy arm.
10. I suggest sitting at a table, but you may attempt to break your back on the floor like me. Sit there and just smother every inch of the cabbage with the blood red vomit-paste.
11. Try it. Can you feel immortality settling inside your sinus cavity? Excellent.
Kimchi is purportedly one of the 5 healthiest foods in the world. I heard this from my friend Julienne. I didn't bother to ask her sources or what the other 4 foods were, but she was Miss Pennsylvania Teen in 2002, so I trust her.
The part that I'm unsure about is the preparation of the cabbage. I think you soak it in a brine, and not wash it. All I know is that extensive salt is used somewhere in the process. And the part afterwards is unclear, but I'll update this when we put the final touches on it.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Though I'm told by many that I have good Nunchi (what we might call a cross between "wit", "common sense", and "gut feeling"), I seem to have only recently realized after 2 months of eating in the cafeteria that the men and women are separated. Now, I have a female co-teacher, two in fact, and each time they are first through the serving line, they sit with the women. But since I am expected to sit with them since I have come down to their office to get them for lunch, I sit with the women. However, when I am first, I usually sit, but not always, near some of the male teachers that I like in hopes that I might actually make some friends or atleast get a pity party started through the Japanese teacher and get them to invite me out one night.
Today, my new female co-teacher told me at lunch that she felt uncomfortable sitting where she was because it was the men's table. I told her, having realized the segregation last week, "I feel uncomfortable sitting at the women's table". Our anatomical differences seem to be making it toilsome for me to interact with the people I want to befriend. It's not that I don't mind being friends with women. In fact, many of my friends ARE women, but the trouble with Korea is that I have yet to meet a woman at my school who does anything besides watch movies with her husband, go to church and read. The men are the ones who are always joking and having a grand ol' time, but I think they assume I don't like that since I sit with the women most the time.
To add on to the cultural difference brought to my attention, I was also informed that the seats I usually choose when I sit at the men's table are reserved for the more deserved teachers, like the school chiefs or senior staff. So I seem to have been cycling myself through this catch-22 of tries towards friendship. When I sit at the women's table, I either join the men and alienate my co-teachers who are my translation tools, or I sit with the women and imply to the men that I don't want to be friendly and practice Korean with them. But when I do sit with them, I violate a custom that says, "hey, I'm a hotshot American teacher and can hang with the big dogs who have taken 30 years to prove themselves".
Today, my new female co-teacher told me at lunch that she felt uncomfortable sitting where she was because it was the men's table. I told her, having realized the segregation last week, "I feel uncomfortable sitting at the women's table". Our anatomical differences seem to be making it toilsome for me to interact with the people I want to befriend. It's not that I don't mind being friends with women. In fact, many of my friends ARE women, but the trouble with Korea is that I have yet to meet a woman at my school who does anything besides watch movies with her husband, go to church and read. The men are the ones who are always joking and having a grand ol' time, but I think they assume I don't like that since I sit with the women most the time.
To add on to the cultural difference brought to my attention, I was also informed that the seats I usually choose when I sit at the men's table are reserved for the more deserved teachers, like the school chiefs or senior staff. So I seem to have been cycling myself through this catch-22 of tries towards friendship. When I sit at the women's table, I either join the men and alienate my co-teachers who are my translation tools, or I sit with the women and imply to the men that I don't want to be friendly and practice Korean with them. But when I do sit with them, I violate a custom that says, "hey, I'm a hotshot American teacher and can hang with the big dogs who have taken 30 years to prove themselves".
Sunday, October 29, 2006
On my walk home after another bizarre, but sublime weekend in Korea, I made note of two things that you'll experience in daily Korean life.
1) Mormons. Though they are our friends and inherently know not to try and convert me(maybe they smell the primitive earthly stains of debauchery on me), I still can't help but swearing a little under my breath as I stand on the other side of the crosswalk from them.
2) Unsafe Motorcycle Practices. I have seen countless instances of passenger riding on mopeds or motorcycles where a crash at any speed would kill someone on that bike. I hate to sound like an old fuddy duddy, but it is not responsible parenting to have your daughter side saddle on the back, while your prepubescent son nuzzles you from the front, between your legs, standing up on the platform area of the moped. Nor is it safe grandpa to ride your Hog with your three grandchildren clinging for dear life on the back. Did I mention that NONE of these Knievels wear helmets?
Anyway, so up the stairs thinking about these two occurrences I smelled garlic bread. The sweet salivating salvation of Italian food. This couldn't be? Is my host mom, the Queen of Instant Curry Tuesdays, making garlic bread? Oh my god!! Well, she wasn't, and I wonder now if I had just manufactured that olfactory sensation.
Disregarding imagined garlic bread, I must describe yet another weekend of absurdity:
I woke up on Saturday with the normal routine. I awoke to the vibrating of my cell phone and the cheery voice of one such Georgian, who will go by Kate, telling me it was morning; nearly the afternoon. My previous antics from the night before, which had left me too incapacitated to type or read, much less play guitar, rose inside from the depths of the dungeon and forced me to be curt on the phone with Kate. "What time is it? When should I meet you?" "10:45... 11:15" "ok. bye" Makeoli is yet another manifestation of the devil. We were being taken out to lunch by her host-sister and classmates. I refused the crustless egg and spam sandwich my mom had made nearly 4 hours before (I don't know why she cuts off the crust on these sandwiches), and I made my walk to the corner. "You're a champ, Alex."
Awkward, but endearing the lunch was and also the round of Patpingsu. Patpingsu is an amazing idea that needs to catch on back home. A bowl of shaved ice, topped with fruit, red-bean paste, rice-cake thingies, and frozen yogurt. But I have yet to find an establishment as delicious and mind-blowingly perfect as IceCool. I have found CoolHof! But they cater to an older crowd, those above the legal age.
The afternoon was spent with Gretchen, Lauryn and Sarah O. We attempted to finalize our pension plans for the 27 people that have summoned up the courage to fly down to Jeju for the weekend and have a costume party on the beach. Finding the pension was a little harder than we thought, but I tell you, Koreans are probably the nicest people I've ever met. I just walked into a restaurant leaving the girls to ask someone at the gas station across the street for directions. I ask in my best Korean if they know this place. They don't so I whip out the phone number for the place and they call. One minute later the old Agumma behind the counter is getting her husband (who is working in the restaurant) to take us in his car. Now, I want to say I learned my lesson about getting in cars with strangers through my experiences with Jehovah's Witnesses, but i just trotted out that door and said "Let's go!!"(in Korean of course). But as I yell to the girls at the gas station, they're yelling at me to get over there because the attendant called for a shuttle to pick us up for free and take us to the place. Well, I'll be damned, it seems you can just get any ride from any stranger in the country. I think I might try hitchhiking soon, I could save shitloads on taxis and buses.
I had no idea negotiating a two night stay at a pension in Korea would be so hard... but it was. Unfortunately, it wasn't really that hard, it was just frustrating to have to repeat what we all understood already over, and over, and over again. In fact, my neurotic and paranoid behavior came to a boil and I had to disengage for a moment as I was worried that all this talking would reverse the course of things and leave us homeless and hungry for the following weekend. Whatever. We got the rooms, and I call a bed as payment for my dutiful task.
Dinner was with the Jeong family, aka Rafiq's homestay. there was a guest though and who was it? My lusting lover. We don't communicate very well, but she just enjoys my voice. After dinner we broke into the Chinese gardens that overlook the waterfall near my house, sang some Korean songs that I only know about 1/5 of the words to and then bounced to an undisclosed location.
We wound up at our guest's studio. She's a drum teacher and has a large studio filled with traditional korean drums and gongs. I couldn't help but think of Turzo and how he would no doubt occupy himself for days in her place. After some Hanyeo lessons, drum patterns that were too complicated and advanced for me, some hulahooping, and some more Korean songs, we left to Rafiq's for a sleepover.
We all slept there as a means to make the morning commute to the Marathon easier---Oh! I guess I didn't mention that huh? Yeah, so Rafiq signed us up for a marathon. Turns out actually, that they call all running races in Korea "marathon". Either way, we ran a 10K in support for the Jeju firefighters. So, we all slept at his host-family's to get to the race on-time. But I seriously thought we were going to miss the start of it. First of all the only people at the apartment when we woke up were 4 and 6 years old and honestly the only thing they were concerned about were my "panties" and how they could pull them down and stick their finger up my butt. What a nice way to start the morning! When our ride finally showed up, and were off on the road, she asked if we had brought the map. I don't know what this lady is thinking, but why in holy hell would WE have the map?!?! To make us even more late we had to make a stop. This may be the most stereotypical thing that's happened to me in Korea, but we were late to the race because we had to drop off some Kimchi. I guess you have to know that one eats Kimchi with every meal, including breakfast, and you should realize that Koreans have their own sense of time too. What most people would consider late, is right on-time. I don't mean Spanish Time, or Stoner Time, or Josh Lipkowitz Time, or even Italian Time, but to many Koreans, if you say 9am... well of course you mean 9:30am. That just goes without saying.
We made it to the race in time. Actually, we had plenty of time. I suppose because the race was running late due to the dance team performance, drum line, a half cast of enlarged mascots representing The Village People and dancing to the YMCA, a starting line-up announcement of men in suits, an aerobics workout that was too jammin' and advanced for anyone who is not a masochistic Tae Bo enthusiast, and an oath taken by a couple of people, who on behalf of all contestants, swore to obey the rules.
The start of the race was marked by fireworks and cannons; Korea can be a little over-the-top sometimes. Anyway, the race was beautiful and I learned that I can not run continuously for 10K. In fact, I took almost twice as long as my dad runs a 10K. That's all I'll say about that, but do keep in mind that the "Orum Marathon" as it was called means "small mountain marathon". It was definitely a mountain that we ran up, and a single-track nonetheless. Whatever, you're thinking it and you're right, so I'll stop making excuses for being out of shape.
On the ride home, we stopped at a photo gallery. I really just wanted to go home and put my feet up, but for some reason, we just pulled off and checked it out. Whatever it's Korea, but do we need to drink coffee at every place we visit. I don't know what my fellow ETAs think about this, but I think if I accepted all the coffee that was offered to me each day, I might die of diabetic shock. It's not real coffee. It's basically a combination of Folgers and white sugar at something like a 1:4 ratio, respectively. Anyway, that coffee must have fried a couple of circuits in our driver's brain because she felt it was safe to take off her glasses and tell the passenger in the front to be her eyes. She said, "I can see cars, but not people or animals". When a plastic bag floated across the road she dropped a gear and asked what it was...
It's just Korean.
1) Mormons. Though they are our friends and inherently know not to try and convert me(maybe they smell the primitive earthly stains of debauchery on me), I still can't help but swearing a little under my breath as I stand on the other side of the crosswalk from them.
2) Unsafe Motorcycle Practices. I have seen countless instances of passenger riding on mopeds or motorcycles where a crash at any speed would kill someone on that bike. I hate to sound like an old fuddy duddy, but it is not responsible parenting to have your daughter side saddle on the back, while your prepubescent son nuzzles you from the front, between your legs, standing up on the platform area of the moped. Nor is it safe grandpa to ride your Hog with your three grandchildren clinging for dear life on the back. Did I mention that NONE of these Knievels wear helmets?
Anyway, so up the stairs thinking about these two occurrences I smelled garlic bread. The sweet salivating salvation of Italian food. This couldn't be? Is my host mom, the Queen of Instant Curry Tuesdays, making garlic bread? Oh my god!! Well, she wasn't, and I wonder now if I had just manufactured that olfactory sensation.
Disregarding imagined garlic bread, I must describe yet another weekend of absurdity:
I woke up on Saturday with the normal routine. I awoke to the vibrating of my cell phone and the cheery voice of one such Georgian, who will go by Kate, telling me it was morning; nearly the afternoon. My previous antics from the night before, which had left me too incapacitated to type or read, much less play guitar, rose inside from the depths of the dungeon and forced me to be curt on the phone with Kate. "What time is it? When should I meet you?" "10:45... 11:15" "ok. bye" Makeoli is yet another manifestation of the devil. We were being taken out to lunch by her host-sister and classmates. I refused the crustless egg and spam sandwich my mom had made nearly 4 hours before (I don't know why she cuts off the crust on these sandwiches), and I made my walk to the corner. "You're a champ, Alex."
Awkward, but endearing the lunch was and also the round of Patpingsu. Patpingsu is an amazing idea that needs to catch on back home. A bowl of shaved ice, topped with fruit, red-bean paste, rice-cake thingies, and frozen yogurt. But I have yet to find an establishment as delicious and mind-blowingly perfect as IceCool. I have found CoolHof! But they cater to an older crowd, those above the legal age.
The afternoon was spent with Gretchen, Lauryn and Sarah O. We attempted to finalize our pension plans for the 27 people that have summoned up the courage to fly down to Jeju for the weekend and have a costume party on the beach. Finding the pension was a little harder than we thought, but I tell you, Koreans are probably the nicest people I've ever met. I just walked into a restaurant leaving the girls to ask someone at the gas station across the street for directions. I ask in my best Korean if they know this place. They don't so I whip out the phone number for the place and they call. One minute later the old Agumma behind the counter is getting her husband (who is working in the restaurant) to take us in his car. Now, I want to say I learned my lesson about getting in cars with strangers through my experiences with Jehovah's Witnesses, but i just trotted out that door and said "Let's go!!"(in Korean of course). But as I yell to the girls at the gas station, they're yelling at me to get over there because the attendant called for a shuttle to pick us up for free and take us to the place. Well, I'll be damned, it seems you can just get any ride from any stranger in the country. I think I might try hitchhiking soon, I could save shitloads on taxis and buses.
I had no idea negotiating a two night stay at a pension in Korea would be so hard... but it was. Unfortunately, it wasn't really that hard, it was just frustrating to have to repeat what we all understood already over, and over, and over again. In fact, my neurotic and paranoid behavior came to a boil and I had to disengage for a moment as I was worried that all this talking would reverse the course of things and leave us homeless and hungry for the following weekend. Whatever. We got the rooms, and I call a bed as payment for my dutiful task.
Dinner was with the Jeong family, aka Rafiq's homestay. there was a guest though and who was it? My lusting lover. We don't communicate very well, but she just enjoys my voice. After dinner we broke into the Chinese gardens that overlook the waterfall near my house, sang some Korean songs that I only know about 1/5 of the words to and then bounced to an undisclosed location.
We wound up at our guest's studio. She's a drum teacher and has a large studio filled with traditional korean drums and gongs. I couldn't help but think of Turzo and how he would no doubt occupy himself for days in her place. After some Hanyeo lessons, drum patterns that were too complicated and advanced for me, some hulahooping, and some more Korean songs, we left to Rafiq's for a sleepover. We all slept there as a means to make the morning commute to the Marathon easier---Oh! I guess I didn't mention that huh? Yeah, so Rafiq signed us up for a marathon. Turns out actually, that they call all running races in Korea "marathon". Either way, we ran a 10K in support for the Jeju firefighters. So, we all slept at his host-family's to get to the race on-time. But I seriously thought we were going to miss the start of it. First of all the only people at the apartment when we woke up were 4 and 6 years old and honestly the only thing they were concerned about were my "panties" and how they could pull them down and stick their finger up my butt. What a nice way to start the morning! When our ride finally showed up, and were off on the road, she asked if we had brought the map. I don't know what this lady is thinking, but why in holy hell would WE have the map?!?! To make us even more late we had to make a stop. This may be the most stereotypical thing that's happened to me in Korea, but we were late to the race because we had to drop off some Kimchi. I guess you have to know that one eats Kimchi with every meal, including breakfast, and you should realize that Koreans have their own sense of time too. What most people would consider late, is right on-time. I don't mean Spanish Time, or Stoner Time, or Josh Lipkowitz Time, or even Italian Time, but to many Koreans, if you say 9am... well of course you mean 9:30am. That just goes without saying.
We made it to the race in time. Actually, we had plenty of time. I suppose because the race was running late due to the dance team performance, drum line, a half cast of enlarged mascots representing The Village People and dancing to the YMCA, a starting line-up announcement of men in suits, an aerobics workout that was too jammin' and advanced for anyone who is not a masochistic Tae Bo enthusiast, and an oath taken by a couple of people, who on behalf of all contestants, swore to obey the rules.
The start of the race was marked by fireworks and cannons; Korea can be a little over-the-top sometimes. Anyway, the race was beautiful and I learned that I can not run continuously for 10K. In fact, I took almost twice as long as my dad runs a 10K. That's all I'll say about that, but do keep in mind that the "Orum Marathon" as it was called means "small mountain marathon". It was definitely a mountain that we ran up, and a single-track nonetheless. Whatever, you're thinking it and you're right, so I'll stop making excuses for being out of shape.
On the ride home, we stopped at a photo gallery. I really just wanted to go home and put my feet up, but for some reason, we just pulled off and checked it out. Whatever it's Korea, but do we need to drink coffee at every place we visit. I don't know what my fellow ETAs think about this, but I think if I accepted all the coffee that was offered to me each day, I might die of diabetic shock. It's not real coffee. It's basically a combination of Folgers and white sugar at something like a 1:4 ratio, respectively. Anyway, that coffee must have fried a couple of circuits in our driver's brain because she felt it was safe to take off her glasses and tell the passenger in the front to be her eyes. She said, "I can see cars, but not people or animals". When a plastic bag floated across the road she dropped a gear and asked what it was...
It's just Korean.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
I need to get the grievances out of the way first:
1) Korea is supposedly the most wired country in the world. It's electronics are far superior and more accesible to the people, but apparently they lack a decent web-designer. If you're looking for a job in web-design, I suggest contacting the Pusan International Film Festival or Korean Airlines and create a webpage that functions, period.
2) Buses. Why are they so goddam on-time. Too on-time. In fact, sometimes I get to the bus-stop 5 minutes early and I am watching it cruise down the road, left there waiting for another 15 minutes when it'll be 3 minutes earlier than schedule. I guess my only other experience with buses was in Italy, and that's a whole new can of worms.
********************************************************************************
So it turns out that I CAN'T make it the entire year without paying my phone bill. Although we set it up for a monthly withdrawal from my bank account, somewhere the bureaucracy tripped up(wow. imagine that.) and they are threatening to shut off my service. They sent me a text message telling me to pay my bill, but I specifically gave them my bank account number(and opted to not receive bills) for the purpose of NOT paying and just playing the part of the victim when my money starts disappearing. I just think it's funny that they want me to pay a bill that never even came to me in the first place.
I've been busy trying to establish some travel plans for the winter. I'm basically spending Christmas with one of the greatest people on earth. She slids up into the Top 5 among greats like Rupert Murdoch, Adolf Hitler, Art Garfunkel, Ronald Reagan and Walt Disney... woops, sorry wrong list. Here ya go: Greats like John Cusack, George Washington Carver, Jon Stewart, Martin Luther King, and Matt Groening. That's right kiddos, I'm off to see Kate Sherwood. Plans aren't final yet, but looks like a meandering through Thailand/Malaysia with a half-man, half-salmon cohort... aka Dylan. After we part, I'm headed to Bali(this is an affirmative already) where I'll be swimming in the luxury I'm sure to never have if I keep spending money like this. Word. It feels so good to get plans in the finalizing stages.
Today one of my girls brought in a beat-up guitar and set it at the front of the class. I immediately knew what she was up to, but I'm not a mouse and I don't just grab the cheese and start nibbling. Anyway, I called the class to order and was hounded to play the guitar and sing to them. So I did. I am officially on my way to being a Rock Star in Korea. I know they are already spreading the word. And by my previous encounters with mild fame already on this island, I think I might qualify next month for the Megastar 'Way-Gook' Finals. *Way-Gook=Foreigner
*********************************************************************************
To Do List:
-Compile a complete list of Jehovah's Witness' numbers. They are too clever, but obviously can't take a hint.
-Buy a winter coat. Californians are unfamiliar with the term layering outside of the cake-making world.
-Make Halloween Costume. I shall be Sojuman. I can't tell you the details, it would seem culturally insensitive to someone outside the situation.
-Find out where that smell is coming from. The roof? The alley? The park?
-Buy a camera. It seems like everywhere I go these days, nature and chance are conspiring for great photos just to tease me.
-Steal that Huskie puppy down the street. **Shameless Plug: www.BreederRetreiver.com
-Make bumper sticker that reads: "Obama's Great in '08, but Obama's The Bomb in '12"
-Wash my feet.
1) Korea is supposedly the most wired country in the world. It's electronics are far superior and more accesible to the people, but apparently they lack a decent web-designer. If you're looking for a job in web-design, I suggest contacting the Pusan International Film Festival or Korean Airlines and create a webpage that functions, period.
2) Buses. Why are they so goddam on-time. Too on-time. In fact, sometimes I get to the bus-stop 5 minutes early and I am watching it cruise down the road, left there waiting for another 15 minutes when it'll be 3 minutes earlier than schedule. I guess my only other experience with buses was in Italy, and that's a whole new can of worms.
********************************************************************************
So it turns out that I CAN'T make it the entire year without paying my phone bill. Although we set it up for a monthly withdrawal from my bank account, somewhere the bureaucracy tripped up(wow. imagine that.) and they are threatening to shut off my service. They sent me a text message telling me to pay my bill, but I specifically gave them my bank account number(and opted to not receive bills) for the purpose of NOT paying and just playing the part of the victim when my money starts disappearing. I just think it's funny that they want me to pay a bill that never even came to me in the first place.
I've been busy trying to establish some travel plans for the winter. I'm basically spending Christmas with one of the greatest people on earth. She slids up into the Top 5 among greats like Rupert Murdoch, Adolf Hitler, Art Garfunkel, Ronald Reagan and Walt Disney... woops, sorry wrong list. Here ya go: Greats like John Cusack, George Washington Carver, Jon Stewart, Martin Luther King, and Matt Groening. That's right kiddos, I'm off to see Kate Sherwood. Plans aren't final yet, but looks like a meandering through Thailand/Malaysia with a half-man, half-salmon cohort... aka Dylan. After we part, I'm headed to Bali(this is an affirmative already) where I'll be swimming in the luxury I'm sure to never have if I keep spending money like this. Word. It feels so good to get plans in the finalizing stages.
Today one of my girls brought in a beat-up guitar and set it at the front of the class. I immediately knew what she was up to, but I'm not a mouse and I don't just grab the cheese and start nibbling. Anyway, I called the class to order and was hounded to play the guitar and sing to them. So I did. I am officially on my way to being a Rock Star in Korea. I know they are already spreading the word. And by my previous encounters with mild fame already on this island, I think I might qualify next month for the Megastar 'Way-Gook' Finals. *Way-Gook=Foreigner
*********************************************************************************
To Do List:
-Compile a complete list of Jehovah's Witness' numbers. They are too clever, but obviously can't take a hint.
-Buy a winter coat. Californians are unfamiliar with the term layering outside of the cake-making world.
-Make Halloween Costume. I shall be Sojuman. I can't tell you the details, it would seem culturally insensitive to someone outside the situation.
-Find out where that smell is coming from. The roof? The alley? The park?
-Buy a camera. It seems like everywhere I go these days, nature and chance are conspiring for great photos just to tease me.
-Steal that Huskie puppy down the street. **Shameless Plug: www.BreederRetreiver.com
-Make bumper sticker that reads: "Obama's Great in '08, but Obama's The Bomb in '12"
-Wash my feet.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
[I have been doing a lesson on superheroes. I begin by having them name all the superheroes they know. I get a good mix of Korean, Japanese and American cartoons, so I tend to ask about the heroes I don't know and what they can do]
"Ok girls, so tell me, what kind of power does this superhero have"
"Many, many power!!"
"Ok, like what?"
"Uh, marge, choopaytah, and... and... PENIS!"
[Translation: Mars, Jupiter, and Venus. I'm not sure how those qualify as superpowers]
"Ok girls, so tell me, what kind of power does this superhero have"
"Many, many power!!"
"Ok, like what?"
"Uh, marge, choopaytah, and... and... PENIS!"
[Translation: Mars, Jupiter, and Venus. I'm not sure how those qualify as superpowers]
Monday, October 16, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The problem I have with volunteers is that they have pure good intentions, but when it comes to getting things done, they would probably have trouble tying their shoes. Yes, the Busan Film Festival was great. We saw some fantastic films, but it was a day that began at 5-something A.M. and didn't end until 24 hours later.
I woke up Saturday morning on a Ferry that I had been pretty convinced was going to capsize in the middle of the night. Not only that, but I thought I had dreamt the fact that we took an 11 hour ride through the East Sea to Busan. The only proper thing to do was to have a crazy dance party to wake ourselves up while we distracted ourselves from the sound of Kate gagging in the bathroom from the ungodly smell that was the toilet.
On the whole, Korea is up much earlier than America, yet whatever they get up for they apparently don't need coffee or baked goods. I'll never understand why coffee shops and bakeries aren't open in the mornings here. I guess kimchi is all the kick these people need to start the day off right. Not me, I prefer a chocolate croissant and coffee imported from exploited Columbian peasants... it's so much better when you can smell the injustice.
The films we saw were: Dasepo Naughty Girl, Holly, Elementary Particles, and The Optimists.
I highly suggest checking all of them out. Each film was good, though Naughty Girl had to be appreciated as a self-mocking comic-based attempt at too much within too little time. Hands down, my favorite was Elementary Particles. It's a German film about two half-brothers and their love lives that direct outwards in completely different paths. It's really good. Find it and rent it.
After the our last movie, The Optimists(which was extremely funny and dark, so dark in fact that the Serbian director found subtle humor in the defrauding of dying people to cure their illnesses. All to sad to find funny, but I still laughed), we felt like checking into a motel and passing out, but our friends convinced Kate, Lauryn and I to drop our packs at their motel and go to a Rave on the beach.
The rave cost 25 bucks, but they served 2 dollar Guiness, had a couple of amazing DJs, and enough laser lighting to be a Star Wars set. I elbowed a midget in the head while dancing, but she ran away before I could apologize. I'd say it was a pretty cool scene, but I'm not sure it's appropriate to call it a "Rave". I'll have to check with the Oxford English Dictionary, but I'm almost positive a Rave is defined by "excessive lasers lights, rhythms, drugs and glowsticks."
This is the bus outside the entrance.
The inside scene.
I woke up Saturday morning on a Ferry that I had been pretty convinced was going to capsize in the middle of the night. Not only that, but I thought I had dreamt the fact that we took an 11 hour ride through the East Sea to Busan. The only proper thing to do was to have a crazy dance party to wake ourselves up while we distracted ourselves from the sound of Kate gagging in the bathroom from the ungodly smell that was the toilet.
On the whole, Korea is up much earlier than America, yet whatever they get up for they apparently don't need coffee or baked goods. I'll never understand why coffee shops and bakeries aren't open in the mornings here. I guess kimchi is all the kick these people need to start the day off right. Not me, I prefer a chocolate croissant and coffee imported from exploited Columbian peasants... it's so much better when you can smell the injustice.
The films we saw were: Dasepo Naughty Girl, Holly, Elementary Particles, and The Optimists.
I highly suggest checking all of them out. Each film was good, though Naughty Girl had to be appreciated as a self-mocking comic-based attempt at too much within too little time. Hands down, my favorite was Elementary Particles. It's a German film about two half-brothers and their love lives that direct outwards in completely different paths. It's really good. Find it and rent it.
After the our last movie, The Optimists(which was extremely funny and dark, so dark in fact that the Serbian director found subtle humor in the defrauding of dying people to cure their illnesses. All to sad to find funny, but I still laughed), we felt like checking into a motel and passing out, but our friends convinced Kate, Lauryn and I to drop our packs at their motel and go to a Rave on the beach.
The rave cost 25 bucks, but they served 2 dollar Guiness, had a couple of amazing DJs, and enough laser lighting to be a Star Wars set. I elbowed a midget in the head while dancing, but she ran away before I could apologize. I'd say it was a pretty cool scene, but I'm not sure it's appropriate to call it a "Rave". I'll have to check with the Oxford English Dictionary, but I'm almost positive a Rave is defined by "excessive lasers lights, rhythms, drugs and glowsticks."
This is the bus outside the entrance.
The inside scene.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
If the New York Times is any indicator of what is mainstream news in America, which I sure as hell hope so, then you are well aware that North Korea tested a nuclear bomb. There is still debate about this I understand, and determining the type of test takes percise seismic evaluation and time, I suppose. But the facts I see are this:
1)No person/country in their right mind would fake a nuclear test with 6 tons of chemical explosives when the obvious result would be hard-lined response from 5 countries.
2)North Korea (NPRK) has been working on a nuclear program for over 30 years, and it's about time they produce something (I mean, what else do they do there? They sure as hell aren't occupied with keeping their Per Capita Income competitive in the world).
3)When you're a country like NPRK and you test a nuclear bomb, you're pretty much asking for a fight. It's like the delinquent runt of an outcast from elementary school who decides one day to whip a kickball near the heads of the bullies at recess. You know he's just trying to show that he's tough. Yet despite however many bruises he leaves with the first throws, he knows he'll be beaten like a rug by 3:20pm.
Well, as I write this, North Korea has said that "if the U.S. keeps pestering us and increases the pressure, we will regard it as a declaration of war and will take a series of physical corresponding measures."
So, now my mood has changed from curious to worried. I'm headed to Busan this weekend for the annual Busan International Film Festival. I hope that the long ass ferry ride and four film agenda on Saturday can rest my mind. Until the seemingly inevitible demise of this world, I have picnics and films and classes to teach. I was reading the final chapter in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs and Klosterberg referenced a book called The Bible Code, which describes how the Torah can be analyzed like "a three dimensional crossword puzzle"(?) and that among many things, computer specialists have predicted with that the coming nuclear war will occur in 2006. I checked this morning... it's 2006. Not that I believe a guy who read a book whose author claims the Torah can be analyzed by computer specialists in 3D models to predict the future, but that's one fucking frightening coincidence for someone currently residing in Korea.
1)No person/country in their right mind would fake a nuclear test with 6 tons of chemical explosives when the obvious result would be hard-lined response from 5 countries.
2)North Korea (NPRK) has been working on a nuclear program for over 30 years, and it's about time they produce something (I mean, what else do they do there? They sure as hell aren't occupied with keeping their Per Capita Income competitive in the world).
3)When you're a country like NPRK and you test a nuclear bomb, you're pretty much asking for a fight. It's like the delinquent runt of an outcast from elementary school who decides one day to whip a kickball near the heads of the bullies at recess. You know he's just trying to show that he's tough. Yet despite however many bruises he leaves with the first throws, he knows he'll be beaten like a rug by 3:20pm.
Well, as I write this, North Korea has said that "if the U.S. keeps pestering us and increases the pressure, we will regard it as a declaration of war and will take a series of physical corresponding measures."
So, now my mood has changed from curious to worried. I'm headed to Busan this weekend for the annual Busan International Film Festival. I hope that the long ass ferry ride and four film agenda on Saturday can rest my mind. Until the seemingly inevitible demise of this world, I have picnics and films and classes to teach. I was reading the final chapter in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs and Klosterberg referenced a book called The Bible Code, which describes how the Torah can be analyzed like "a three dimensional crossword puzzle"(?) and that among many things, computer specialists have predicted with that the coming nuclear war will occur in 2006. I checked this morning... it's 2006. Not that I believe a guy who read a book whose author claims the Torah can be analyzed by computer specialists in 3D models to predict the future, but that's one fucking frightening coincidence for someone currently residing in Korea.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
The trouble I see with Korea is the fact that every trusts one another.
Or maybe that's the trouble they see with foreigners. Whatever, my point is this: Here I am, I compassionate College graduate, with a 3.6 gpa, Fulbright Fellow, respected teacher, no prior criminal record, steady job holder since I was 14, raised in a loving environment, etc... and it seems like Korea was created to test my morality.
I'm serious. Why does anyone think that it's safe to leave their car or moped running double-parked on a crowded downtown street for MANY minutes?!!? If some moron did that in America, that fool would be minus four wheels, leather interior, and their collection of Judas Priest tapes. Could you imagine going into the local NYPD presinct and filling out the police report? The cops would tear it up, look the guy straight in the face, and tell him in all honesty that he deserved what he cooked on 2nd Ave.
My biggest conscience crises come from the delivery men who leave their open bed trucks unattended for long periods of time. It doesn't take a genius to learn the habits of these numbskulls and acquire yourself a weekly supply of beer and soju(cola if you desire as well). The inherent trust Koreans have for one another is amazing. If I were in the U.S. and I saw a Budweiser driver do that with an open air vehicle, I'd take what I could carry and justify my acquisitions by the circumstantial stupidity of both Anheiser-Busch and their lowly peon.
Now, what boggles my mind is the DISTRUST store owners have for people when they enter a store. I realize that this scenario may be that Korean owners are attempting great customer service, but when they become a physical nuissance to my browsing, I must conclude that they are watching over my shoulder. Example: I walked into Hi Mart yesterday to look at cameras since mine just broke. As soon as I walk through the doorway, I am awarded a puppy-like shadow. He follows me through the aisles until I find the Cameras. I then look at the cameras for a good ten minutes hoping that maybe he'll open up the cases for me, but no. I then turn to him and ask if they have the Olympus Stylus 1000, but he responds with a curt, "Anniyo". I continue to walk through the store just to browse and this guy is watching me closer than Death. I dodge right, left, right, and he's on me like white on rice. Fortunately, the phone rang at the desk and I was able to stuff my pockets with dvd players, laptops, and rice cookers and jet out of there. I don't think my shadow was keen to my tactics, until I laughed mockingly in the phone as I ran down the street.
Or maybe that's the trouble they see with foreigners. Whatever, my point is this: Here I am, I compassionate College graduate, with a 3.6 gpa, Fulbright Fellow, respected teacher, no prior criminal record, steady job holder since I was 14, raised in a loving environment, etc... and it seems like Korea was created to test my morality.
I'm serious. Why does anyone think that it's safe to leave their car or moped running double-parked on a crowded downtown street for MANY minutes?!!? If some moron did that in America, that fool would be minus four wheels, leather interior, and their collection of Judas Priest tapes. Could you imagine going into the local NYPD presinct and filling out the police report? The cops would tear it up, look the guy straight in the face, and tell him in all honesty that he deserved what he cooked on 2nd Ave.
My biggest conscience crises come from the delivery men who leave their open bed trucks unattended for long periods of time. It doesn't take a genius to learn the habits of these numbskulls and acquire yourself a weekly supply of beer and soju(cola if you desire as well). The inherent trust Koreans have for one another is amazing. If I were in the U.S. and I saw a Budweiser driver do that with an open air vehicle, I'd take what I could carry and justify my acquisitions by the circumstantial stupidity of both Anheiser-Busch and their lowly peon.
Now, what boggles my mind is the DISTRUST store owners have for people when they enter a store. I realize that this scenario may be that Korean owners are attempting great customer service, but when they become a physical nuissance to my browsing, I must conclude that they are watching over my shoulder. Example: I walked into Hi Mart yesterday to look at cameras since mine just broke. As soon as I walk through the doorway, I am awarded a puppy-like shadow. He follows me through the aisles until I find the Cameras. I then look at the cameras for a good ten minutes hoping that maybe he'll open up the cases for me, but no. I then turn to him and ask if they have the Olympus Stylus 1000, but he responds with a curt, "Anniyo". I continue to walk through the store just to browse and this guy is watching me closer than Death. I dodge right, left, right, and he's on me like white on rice. Fortunately, the phone rang at the desk and I was able to stuff my pockets with dvd players, laptops, and rice cookers and jet out of there. I don't think my shadow was keen to my tactics, until I laughed mockingly in the phone as I ran down the street.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Since some of you are probably wondering, I like the Type RISK drivers best. Yes, they have performed amazing feats on the road, and though I have soiled several pairs of shorts in taxi cabs, I am always prefer to be panic-stricken rather than pissed off and frustrated with nancy-drivers. Bus drivers are Type RISK as well.
So I'm also glad there isn't malaria in this country, because if there were, I'd be dead. I've either been bitten all over my body by mosquitoes or I am breaking out in a rash. The little mosquito repeller my host mom gave me is about as useful as a 'coke and mentos' experiment (youtube.com) is to NASA trouble-shooting. All it did was spill chemicals on my floor and give me a migraine. In fact, the mosquito problem has only worsened since that day I plugged it in the wall.
I tried to find a pottery studio today, but somehow all my communication of saying that "I do pottery" and "I want to learn more" and "where can I do pottery?" and "look at these pictures of my pottery" did not get across to my host mom. Instead she took me to a traditional ceramics yard and I got roped into correcting the English on their brochure. But my mom bought me some pieces and I met my first real friend. I say real because to date all my friends have either been a)forced relationships with boring koreans b)white mormons from the states or c) Jehovah's witnesses who want to spill my blood.
Speaking of which, they came by my residence the other day while I was flying back from Gyeongju. I had to tell my family that if they ever come by again to tell them that I am not here. I then had to explain that I have moral qualms with their lifestyle and therefore can not be friends with them. It was awkward being told by my host mother, "Do not give your number to anybody, especially koreans." But I broke that rule today with my new friend. His name is Mr. Chong. He's a retired professor of English Language at a small University in Seoul. He likes hiking, biking, and sucking out the marrow of life(I assume).
Damn, this entry got long. It was supposed to be an addendum to the last one, and a statement about how my mosquito killing cunning is adapting to my new environment and prey.
So I'm also glad there isn't malaria in this country, because if there were, I'd be dead. I've either been bitten all over my body by mosquitoes or I am breaking out in a rash. The little mosquito repeller my host mom gave me is about as useful as a 'coke and mentos' experiment (youtube.com) is to NASA trouble-shooting. All it did was spill chemicals on my floor and give me a migraine. In fact, the mosquito problem has only worsened since that day I plugged it in the wall.
I tried to find a pottery studio today, but somehow all my communication of saying that "I do pottery" and "I want to learn more" and "where can I do pottery?" and "look at these pictures of my pottery" did not get across to my host mom. Instead she took me to a traditional ceramics yard and I got roped into correcting the English on their brochure. But my mom bought me some pieces and I met my first real friend. I say real because to date all my friends have either been a)forced relationships with boring koreans b)white mormons from the states or c) Jehovah's witnesses who want to spill my blood.
Speaking of which, they came by my residence the other day while I was flying back from Gyeongju. I had to tell my family that if they ever come by again to tell them that I am not here. I then had to explain that I have moral qualms with their lifestyle and therefore can not be friends with them. It was awkward being told by my host mother, "Do not give your number to anybody, especially koreans." But I broke that rule today with my new friend. His name is Mr. Chong. He's a retired professor of English Language at a small University in Seoul. He likes hiking, biking, and sucking out the marrow of life(I assume).
Damn, this entry got long. It was supposed to be an addendum to the last one, and a statement about how my mosquito killing cunning is adapting to my new environment and prey.
After 3 months of research, I have decided to publish my findings... right here on the 'Information Superhighway' (I hope someone has punched Al Gore in the face for coining such a stupid phrase).
I decided to go public with the research the night I was hit by a car. See I was standing on the sidewalk, at the crosswalk, looking at the oncoming traffic to my left, when a car that was idling in the crosswalk and halfway on the sidewalk backed into me from the opposite direction I was looking. After I beat that car senseless and left the driver wondering if I was belligerently drunk(I was not at all), it dawned on me that the driver represented the 3rd type of drivers in the ROK. Here are the results of my research:
There are three types of drivers in South Korea.
Type RISK are drivers that do not follow the rules of the road, nor proper etiquette. They are largely represented by taxi drivers, but also include those who think it's better to be on the offensive(like my dad). A typical RISK driver will run red lights, cut off buses, and narrowly hit pedestrians.
Type FRET are drivers that worry about RISK drivers. They drive extra cautiously to a point where they also endanger lives like RISK drivers. I prefer to call these drivers sissies or nancies. They are the ones that will brake sporadically because they are going to fast(in their mind), but really they are being passed by and honked at by cars from all sides. Their characteristics often include obliviousness to signs, right-of-ways, and Newton's Laws of Motion.
Type DUMB are the by-products of one of these two drivers, it depends on personal history. These drivers are essentially deaf, dumb, and blind. They are the ones that stop in the middle of the street with a bus barreling down at them from behind. They are prone to driving habits like asking for directions at greenlights, driving on the sidewalk, and nearly all habits characteristic of both RISK and FRET drivers. DUMB drivers are probably the worst kind, and they have now made my shit list by busting me from behind in the knees.
I decided to go public with the research the night I was hit by a car. See I was standing on the sidewalk, at the crosswalk, looking at the oncoming traffic to my left, when a car that was idling in the crosswalk and halfway on the sidewalk backed into me from the opposite direction I was looking. After I beat that car senseless and left the driver wondering if I was belligerently drunk(I was not at all), it dawned on me that the driver represented the 3rd type of drivers in the ROK. Here are the results of my research:
There are three types of drivers in South Korea.
Type RISK are drivers that do not follow the rules of the road, nor proper etiquette. They are largely represented by taxi drivers, but also include those who think it's better to be on the offensive(like my dad). A typical RISK driver will run red lights, cut off buses, and narrowly hit pedestrians.
Type FRET are drivers that worry about RISK drivers. They drive extra cautiously to a point where they also endanger lives like RISK drivers. I prefer to call these drivers sissies or nancies. They are the ones that will brake sporadically because they are going to fast(in their mind), but really they are being passed by and honked at by cars from all sides. Their characteristics often include obliviousness to signs, right-of-ways, and Newton's Laws of Motion.
Type DUMB are the by-products of one of these two drivers, it depends on personal history. These drivers are essentially deaf, dumb, and blind. They are the ones that stop in the middle of the street with a bus barreling down at them from behind. They are prone to driving habits like asking for directions at greenlights, driving on the sidewalk, and nearly all habits characteristic of both RISK and FRET drivers. DUMB drivers are probably the worst kind, and they have now made my shit list by busting me from behind in the knees.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Happy 추 석.
I got back from the Fulbright teaching conference this weekend in 경 주 and I must say that it was the exact opposite from what I expected. In fact, I will go that extra mile and say that, yes, I learned something in those workshops. The two most important things I learned? 1)What I've been doing wrong. 2)Most others in Fulbright have it so much worse. I mean if they could see my school, they'd kick me square in the nuts for even looking frustrated. Cara Chebuske, you might be the strongest and most patient person I know.
The other half of the conference went as suspected, though there were some events thrown into the mix that were not on the pre-departure agenda for fun: I had no idea that I'd watch Lauryn try and use the emergency repelling device installed in the 6th floor of the hotel, or ride circus-size clown motorcycles that went at ungodly speeds(especially when attempting to do stunt riding). I also did not envision following a traveling Phillipino Lounge Duo to their next gig which had only two people awaiting them. Nor did I imagine that I'd be riding my first tandem bicycle the next morning. I missed the CSI marathon though and that hurts a little, but I filled the void with Pizza tonight.
This is where I start getting serious folks. I don't think I've ever been as ashamed to be associated with my race as I have been tonight. While walking down the street this evening, we were crept upon by an older white man. He startled us from behind by saying, "I bet you didn't know other people here spoke you language." It was especially weird since we were having a rather personal conversation. But despite those initial awkward words that ignite the flames of 'who-says-I-want-to-speak-english-to-you-buddy-I-might-have-come-to-Korea-to-leave-that-scene' connotations, I engaged in conversation as we walked toward the HomePlus Mart. Within 30 seconds we had learned that he had retired to Seogwipo, was British, and thinks that Koreans, "have bad manners, etiquette, and are brainless."
When I heard these words, my blood curdled. I was shocked, to say the least. I felt I had to defend Korea, Koreans and the culture that has been so inviting and generous to me. He began to tell us how, "once the children turn 15 they become brainless." What does one say to this? We told him politely and calmly that this may seem that way due to their long history and different education system. But he continued and asked us if we were teachers. Yes, we were the authority on this subject, and you sir, are a hate-mongering, abominable, self-righteous, bigoted asshole. We reached our destination and as we tried to depart he then continued his embarrassment by adding: "Even the markets are a joke. You can't even buy a real sausage or bacon." He was not fazed by the simple answer that some cultures eat different things. We turned our backs to him and left. As I entered the supermarket, I felt like crying. I felt as though I'd just met the worst person alive. I felt ashamed to know that he walks about this island spreading the word through his actions that white people are intolerant of Koreans.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dear Sir British John Doe of Seogwipo,
Your views on this culture are uneducated, loathing, and reak of arrogance. You chose to live a life of retirement pleasure in Seogwipo, South Korea. Therefore, you are the brainless one. Did you think that customs would be the same here? You're a fool if you say yes. Does it not strike you that maybe Koreans think YOU have bad etiquette? Well, it should because it is 100% true. Have you taken a poll about the taste of Korean food versus British? No, because no one likes crumpets and black-pudding! I'm glad my ancestors told your wig-toting government to fuck-off. I'd rather see Cheney as our next president for the next four years than spend another 5 minutes with you. I hope your testicles are eaten alive by maggots and your heart implodes from the pressure of the forth-coming egalitarian global world. Eat shit and die, you old-world piece of white-trash. I hope your penis falls off and is made into kimchi, because that's what you are: A rotten dick.
Sincerely,
James Alexander Page of Seogwipo
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I'm sorry for the vulgarity, Grandma. I really am. I was having such a wonderful day until I met that man. I had to vent.
While having a debriefing session about this guy on the way back from HomePlus, we ran into some nice Dutch tourists, a couple who began our interaction by asking, "Excuse me, are you familiar with the neighborhood?" It reminded me that goodness is found in the language of kindness. The words you use, the smiles you wear, and the quaintness of questions you ask; I was more than happy to help those two find a USB cable for his camera. I hope they love Seogwipo and share their wonderful tales with all their friends.
Then I was hit by a car on my walk home. No, seriously, I was hit by a car while standing on the sidewalk.
I got back from the Fulbright teaching conference this weekend in 경 주 and I must say that it was the exact opposite from what I expected. In fact, I will go that extra mile and say that, yes, I learned something in those workshops. The two most important things I learned? 1)What I've been doing wrong. 2)Most others in Fulbright have it so much worse. I mean if they could see my school, they'd kick me square in the nuts for even looking frustrated. Cara Chebuske, you might be the strongest and most patient person I know.
The other half of the conference went as suspected, though there were some events thrown into the mix that were not on the pre-departure agenda for fun: I had no idea that I'd watch Lauryn try and use the emergency repelling device installed in the 6th floor of the hotel, or ride circus-size clown motorcycles that went at ungodly speeds(especially when attempting to do stunt riding). I also did not envision following a traveling Phillipino Lounge Duo to their next gig which had only two people awaiting them. Nor did I imagine that I'd be riding my first tandem bicycle the next morning. I missed the CSI marathon though and that hurts a little, but I filled the void with Pizza tonight.
This is where I start getting serious folks. I don't think I've ever been as ashamed to be associated with my race as I have been tonight. While walking down the street this evening, we were crept upon by an older white man. He startled us from behind by saying, "I bet you didn't know other people here spoke you language." It was especially weird since we were having a rather personal conversation. But despite those initial awkward words that ignite the flames of 'who-says-I-want-to-speak-english-to-you-buddy-I-might-have-come-to-Korea-to-leave-that-scene' connotations, I engaged in conversation as we walked toward the HomePlus Mart. Within 30 seconds we had learned that he had retired to Seogwipo, was British, and thinks that Koreans, "have bad manners, etiquette, and are brainless."
When I heard these words, my blood curdled. I was shocked, to say the least. I felt I had to defend Korea, Koreans and the culture that has been so inviting and generous to me. He began to tell us how, "once the children turn 15 they become brainless." What does one say to this? We told him politely and calmly that this may seem that way due to their long history and different education system. But he continued and asked us if we were teachers. Yes, we were the authority on this subject, and you sir, are a hate-mongering, abominable, self-righteous, bigoted asshole. We reached our destination and as we tried to depart he then continued his embarrassment by adding: "Even the markets are a joke. You can't even buy a real sausage or bacon." He was not fazed by the simple answer that some cultures eat different things. We turned our backs to him and left. As I entered the supermarket, I felt like crying. I felt as though I'd just met the worst person alive. I felt ashamed to know that he walks about this island spreading the word through his actions that white people are intolerant of Koreans.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dear Sir British John Doe of Seogwipo,
Your views on this culture are uneducated, loathing, and reak of arrogance. You chose to live a life of retirement pleasure in Seogwipo, South Korea. Therefore, you are the brainless one. Did you think that customs would be the same here? You're a fool if you say yes. Does it not strike you that maybe Koreans think YOU have bad etiquette? Well, it should because it is 100% true. Have you taken a poll about the taste of Korean food versus British? No, because no one likes crumpets and black-pudding! I'm glad my ancestors told your wig-toting government to fuck-off. I'd rather see Cheney as our next president for the next four years than spend another 5 minutes with you. I hope your testicles are eaten alive by maggots and your heart implodes from the pressure of the forth-coming egalitarian global world. Eat shit and die, you old-world piece of white-trash. I hope your penis falls off and is made into kimchi, because that's what you are: A rotten dick.
Sincerely,
James Alexander Page of Seogwipo
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I'm sorry for the vulgarity, Grandma. I really am. I was having such a wonderful day until I met that man. I had to vent.
While having a debriefing session about this guy on the way back from HomePlus, we ran into some nice Dutch tourists, a couple who began our interaction by asking, "Excuse me, are you familiar with the neighborhood?" It reminded me that goodness is found in the language of kindness. The words you use, the smiles you wear, and the quaintness of questions you ask; I was more than happy to help those two find a USB cable for his camera. I hope they love Seogwipo and share their wonderful tales with all their friends.
Then I was hit by a car on my walk home. No, seriously, I was hit by a car while standing on the sidewalk.
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