Sometimes I struggle to describe Korea when people from The States ask me. "What's Korea like?!?" is harder to answer than you think. I prefer the standard response of general exclamatory praise or overused and underspecified words like, "Crazy". I think the most appropriate recently has dubbed Korea as "The Land of Dualities" (L. McCarthy, 2007), but I've decided that this article sums up the entire Korean people, country, and culture.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fan_death

The amount of lies I will believe... it's not quite like the ignorance of the American people, but it's a little more than gullible. It might just be denial. I mean, why would my girlfriend lie to me. Why would she create lie after lie of absurdities. Why would her first lie be in regards to a family emergency? I received a frantic phone call at 1am asking for my support immediately after Lauryn would make a phone home about her mother's failing health. I could not fall asleep. I just lay there with anxiety for over an hour. Then the next day when I arrived at the coffee shop for comfort during the phone call about to take place I was told yet another lie. Her father had phoned to inform her that calling would only upset her mother and she really just needed some rest. As I sat down and ordered a cup of coffee, I noticed the extremely large bag that Lauryn carried down from The Si (read: she). I proceeded to believe yet another lie. Oh I get it, that's some teaching materials from the foreign foods mart, she's also doing the sensory lesson? That's really cool. Jalapenos? Wow, those kids are gonna be madder than mine that ate 99% cacao. Well, I was then asked if I wanted to go on an adventure. I asked no questions but refused the damn blindfold informing her that I already look like a goon and a blindfold will just make me a spectacle. I mean, c'mon, like I wouldn't feel you guiding me onto a bus? And anyway, I know this city so well that I could (did) call out landmarks as we passed them on the bus. On the bus I insisted that she not be mad about the blindfold and promised to keep my eyes closed. An hour and a half later we arrived at what the driver informed my blind self was "ilchulbong". Well, I know where we're going now, so tell me, why am I closing my eyes? We get off the bus, still promising not to look because of "this thing I found out about on Tues that I thought you'd love." I get blindfolded at this point and am asked to walk. Now it's not that I don't trust Lauryn, it's just that I don't trust her to guide a blind person. Once the scarf was wrapped around my skull, she said, "let's go." Unfortunately, she didn't understand the concept and left me there tapping my foot in hopes that she'd grab my arm and lead the way in which we'd go. Within seconds of her returning to guide me, she ran me into a pole. Finally, we get on a ferry and head to Udo. She didn't have to lie about that; I know a boat when I'm on it... oh, and also when it blares it's air horn. The lies only proceeded to grow as I exited the ferry though, this time with minor injury from the low doorways that somebody failed to mention. As we disembarked I kept asking when I could take off the scarf. Then I heard it. I heard the most awful noise to grace my ears in Korea:

"What the hell is that noise?!? Is that a person?"
"Yes."
"Is that what we came to see?"
"Maybe."

I was parked on a bench only to have the harbor of Udo revealed to my sore eyes. Why is it that closing your eyes hurts more than having them open? Anyway, the sound that pained me came from an elderly woman who sat across the road on a bench. The lies continued:

"Is that seriously what we came to see?"
"Yeah, that's the whimpering woman of Udo."
"What?"
"You haven't heard about this?"
"Why would I have heard about this?"
"Oh my god, this woman is incredible. She walks around the island singing and moaning like she is now, and is supposedly a good luck charm that Jeju people search out when they visit Udo. She just whimpers/sings like that, and if you ask her the history of Jeju she'll tell you the story of the Hallabong and ancient folklore like that."
"So you're telling me that you blindfolded me, dragged me out an hour and a half by bus to a place I knew I was going this entire time, in order for me to see an old whimpering woman?"
"Yes, well no. We are a little early, but I learned about the Udo Pride Parade that happens every Friday. They have a cow and horse parade every Friday."
"Every Friday?"
"Yeah."

About this time, some profanity and annoyance started emerging from my mouth. But I was quickly quieted with accusations that I was being insensitive to the dying Udo culture. I was pissed, though I felt sorry for not appreciating a nice gesture from someone who's mother might be dying as we speak. I called it lame and said I was going to buy a soda. As I'm paying for my Pepsi, the guy points out the window to what I assumed was the beginning of the parade. I turn around to see in the doorway 5 of my friends running in singing Happy Birthday video taping my surprise. Needless to say, it was worth the lies, worth the bus ride, and worth the piss-poor trust walking skills of someone that I used to have complete faith in.

Now I don't know what's worse: The fact that I believed such absurd lies or that in Korea these things probably exist and therefore believing that I was going to see a cow parade did not seem out of the ordinary for my life in Korea. I mean, I've seen everything else, why not a Cow Parade?

The Sunny Heater (SH-1101GR) is a cohabitant of my office. Actually, I am merely a tenant in his 4th floor domain. He owns my office like any landlord. In his case, he would more appropriately be considered a renegade turf combatant, willing to kill, maim or poison for respect. I refer to the Sunny Heater as a 'he' because only a man could be so sadistic, cruel, and dangerous. I prefer not to taint the beautiful image of women and reserve the gender qualities of man for this sonofabitch that tried to kill me for good this morning.

Normally when I feel cold I tough it out in my office and pray that my body heat will overcome the generous amount of cold airspace in the room. I have taken to this practice more often than not because of the Sunny Heater. You see, when I turn him on, he likes to idle, click, then spit gas for a lengthy period of time. I have to open my window and door to create a wind-tunnel in order to send the visible miasma of flammable gas outside the window. This tactic has never been sound, but it allows me enough oxygen to breathe for the rest of the morning. I also can never leave the Sunny Heater on for more than an hour or else he attempts the 'slow poison death' method on me. Many other foreign teachers claim their space heater gives them headaches, foolishness. You must run people, run.

I arrived this morning and went about my rituals as usual. I turned on my computer, plugged in the water-maker, and changed into my slippers. I needed to add some water to the electric boiler, so I grabbed a water bottle and headed for the door. But I decided it was too cold this morning and I opened the window, clicked the switch on my nemesis and headed out into the hall. I returned from the water cooler to find the Sunny Heater spewing out gas and refusing to ignite. The room smelled terrible, and I figured that today was his retirement, so I went to go turn him off. I reached down to stop the ignition clicking when BOOM! The area surrounding that evil machine burst into a fireball. I checked my eyebrows, counted my toes, and watched as the fireball slowly simmered into the flame that "heats" this office on occasion.

I tamed the beast of a machine eventually and have retired him to the corner for good. I will suffer the pain of harsh winters to save myself from this murderous mechanized malefactor. No matter how safe I find Korea to be, it always seems that the most dangerous place lies within these walls of academic pursuit.

I hate you Sunny Heater. I hate you.

This weekend my host-mother made me breakfast like always. I arrived at the table groggy and hungry only to find the usual. Now, most of us in Korea would be ecstatic to eat peanut butter and jelly every morning instead of the dreaded fish stew. Well, let me tell you folks, and I never thought I'd say this, but I am sick and tired of PB&J. Anyway, I sat down at the table to see the same set up every morning that's ingrained in my memory. A plate of lightly toasted bread, faintly smelling of cuddle fish, the two jars of 'yin and yang' to the left with a spoon next to them, and a glass of milk towering above it all. Well, as I sat there stuffing large amounts of bread and peanut butter down my throat my host-mother just stared at me with a solemn expression and scouring eyes at the table. Reminiscent of the Aaron Burr Got Milk commercial, I thought I'd said something intelligent, maybe even arrogantly witty, but since my Korean is barely decipherable without a chunk of esophagus clogging goo, I doubt she understood my query of "what?". Instead she left the room only to return 5 minutes later with my host-sister who said, "Alexuh, don't eat peanut buttah. Food. Food po--" As she attempted to pronounce the last word she showed me her electronic dictionary which said, "Food Poisoning". All the while my host-mom had left the room, I had scarfed down the rest of my all-American breakfast, including the milk to wash it down. I sat there scared and shocked. Then I was angry, for why... WHY?!?! Why would my host-mother watch me eat the rest of that sandwich, but wait... WHY?!?! Why would she even put it out on the table with a spoon next to it inviting me to indulge in a little recalled peanut butter from America. As my sister and I stared at each other wondering when I would croak and die, my host-mother casually grabbed the jar, opened it up, and sniffed it. She said something to me, but I understood only a little. I gathered that on the news last night had been a warning about all peanut butter products imported from the U.S., and that I should not eat it anymore. Thanks, lady. Thanks for rushing to my aid by putting it on the table and allowing me to serve up a healthy serving of a George Washington Carver orgasm.

Let me ask you something. If you knew a food product had been recalled for possible contamination, would you put the jar back into the fridge? Because I just looked in there and it's on the second shelf, waiting for my memory lapse to arrive so she can poison me.

Jeju United is our local soccer team and they suck. I've yet to pay for a ticket to their games because if people had to pay, they would lose fans. This is especially sad when it costs 10 (or less) to see them play. Yesterday was the season opener for the team and the stadium was half full at best. The final score for their loss was 2-1, but really it should have been a tie. The first goal was scored about 60 minutes into the game when a Jeju United defender attempted to head a lofted centering kick out of bounds, but misdirected it into the goal. I don't understand why the other team celebrated someone else's goal, but I guess it takes skill to make some moron header an 'own goal'.

All the home games are played in the Seogwipo World Cup Stadium. I found out yesterday that it used to have an upper-deck during the 2002 World Cup, but since then, they have removed the extra seating (probably in hopes to make it look more full). What's even more sad about the history of the stadium is that all the matches scheduled for the only stadium on Jeju island were not even local teams that Koreans or Japanese wanted to see. The result was a half full stadium for games like Slovenia vs Paraguay. If having the World Cup spread out among 2 countries wasn't enough, they sent teams down to an island where fans who already spent thousands of dollars getting to the far east wouldn't want to chuck up another 180 dollars to see preliminary rounds.

The only redeeming qualities of the World Cup stadium in Seogwipo are the movie theater and saunas. I wish I could say the ballpark food makes up for the pathetic sports team (even more agonizing to watch than the Golden State Warriors), but it seems they even lack the funds to have warm hot dogs.

I was corrected by the worst-spelling teacher I've ever met, but to stick it to them, I'm still gonna say what I originally said and stand by my redundant statement: 'We have regressed back to winter.' Now I know it doesn't look good for an English Teacher to make such an error. OF COURSE we are going back when we regress, but then again why do we say 'write down'? Can you ever write up? No. Gravity is our limitation to writing, therefore we must always be writing down, or maybe sideways. But don't bust out your space camp NASA wannabe crap by informing me about zero-gravity pens. I've heard of them nerd-linger so save your smart-ass comments for your part-time tech support job. Anyway, do you see my point? I am simply stating that we 'regressed back to winter' in the same way one says 'write down on paper'.

Regardless of semantics, it's cold. Jeju (and all of Korea... and China) bore the brunt of a huge cold front that hit China with the biggest snow storm in 50 years, and rescinded the offer of spring for Korea, forcing me specifically to apologize to the weather gods for teaching my kids about Groundhog Day in America. The temperature here dropped from an average of 65 during the day to 40, that's just a cold trick to play on us. That lonesome groundhog Phil predicted an early spring, but I guess he can't predict the erratic nature of Mother Earth's vicious attacks upon Al Gore fans. I still can't believe a PowerPoint presentation received an Oscar.

stupid groundhog.

Just when you think Korea couldn't top it's own ludicrousness, it just does one better. I refer to the first weekend of March 2007 as evidence for such claims: I attended the mother of all festivals, state fairs, and insane demonstrations. The Fire Festival in Jeju is like none other. The festival lasts three days and culminates in the most awesome spectacle of environmental destruction that would give Smokey The Bear a simultaneous stroke, heart attack, and aneurysm. The Jeongwol Daeboreum Fire Festival is a celebration that originated in 1997 and is meant to reproduce the symbolic act of village farmers burning the grasses containing harmful insects to their crops. Yet, one would have no clue that is the reasoning behind the destruction of an entire "oreum", a small mountain in Jeju dialect, and that's exactly what happens.

Rafiq, Gretchen, Lauryn and I went to the festival on Friday to scope things out, play around, and hopefully see some destruction. Unfortunately, a mere attempt at merriment contained an ambulance intermission. The injury occurred at the dry-sledding ride where all the kids seemed to be having fun. But the seemingly safe amusement turned deadly for the left ankle of Gretchen. A bit of confusion and long waiting later, I rode with her back to Seogwipo to get her foot X-rayed. (Pro: Ambulance rides are free. Con: X-rays are upwards of 200 dollars.) I returned with the Paramedics in the back of the truck and remembered my only previous ambulance ride when I was 8 years old. At the festival we once again made an appearance on TV, there's something so appealing about the foreigner's perspective in Korea. It's like everyone is looking for validation from the only white people there, as if our thumbs up or "Chu wa hae yo" places significant approval from the western world on their culture. I'm sorry Korea, but I just like quirky and different things, you might have trouble gaining acceptance from the other 299,999 million people I represent. Nonetheless, you guys know how to party, because nothing says, "we kick ass" like a mountain high bonfire with fireworks propelling from the top.

Anyway, the next day was the finale in which the fire I have mentioned was lit by a group of slow marching people that from my distance resembled either a satanic cult or an angry lynch mob. Before the symbolic act, which was accompanied by the pumping sounds of Enya, was preceded by thousands of people shooting Roman candles into the air.

The torch carrying members of the mob began the intense forest fire by lighting the wood structures that people had built over the previous two days along the base of the mountain. I tell you people, if you've ever witnessed an uncontrolled burn of dry brush in the wild, it's awesome! We watched a mountain burn within minutes. The inferno ripped through the hillside sucking out all the oxygen and fueling itself with the rush of wind it drew upon itself. As the fire began spreading the fireworks began soaring.

Like I said before, just when you think Korea couldn't become any more out-of-control, you're proven wrong. I never thought I'd get to see a wildfire... thanks Korea...